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mia-maybank · 23 hours ago

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

George Clarke x Fem!reader ( 2.2k words)

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

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

series | masterlist

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

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

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

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

2 Months Ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

George doesn't move.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, here goes nothing.

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

Tags:

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

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

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emmylksblog · 3 days ago

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MY WARRIOR // PAU CUBARSÍ

summary: after pau gets injured during a match, you do everything you can to support, even if he gave you the scare of your life

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: none, just mentions of blood and the injury not too descriptive

a/n: been in my drafts since it happened, now it's proofread i guess. am i wrong if i say he's hot in that pic? like i know he's injured but who gave him the right to look this good with smeared blood all over his face omg

You already had a feeling today wasn’t going to go well. You’d woken up late, barely made it to your exam, and it went terribly despite all the nights you spent studying. To make things worse, your week was just starting and you still had another exam on Thursday. Frustrated, you left university early to rest a bit before continuing to study… only to find out the buses were on strike. Your phone was at 5%, and it felt like the universe was laughing in your face. Desperate, you called a friend, and thankfully, they picked up and offered to take you home. Once there, you showered, ate, and passed out on your bed for what you thought would be a short nap…

3 hours later…

You woke up groggy, the kind of nap that feels more like getting hit by a truck. Your phone, now charging, buzzed nonstop. You grabbed it, heart racing when you saw it was Fermín calling, as it was very unusual for him to call instead of texting. You answered immediately, still disoriented, and waited in silence for him to speak. A chill ran down your spine.

“Hey, just calling to let you know Pau had to get stitches on his face. He tried calling you before going in, but you didn’t answer, so I thought I should try.”

Your brain froze. What?

“What happened to him?!” you asked, voice rising in panic as you rushed to get dressed, putting him on speaker. Fermín explained that during the match against Estrella Roja, a player went straight for Pau’s face instead of the ball, cutting him along the jaw with his boots. By the time he finished talking, you were already in a taxi headed to the hospital he mentioned.

Your heart was pounding. You kept picturing Pau, your strong boyfriend who always smiled, covered in blood and scared. The thought of him being alone in that room made you feel sick. If only you hadn’t fallen asleep… maybe you could’ve been there to calm him down. According to Fermín, only the team’s staff had been able to go with him; his parents were still in Girona and wouldn´t make it on time till tomorrow.

Your footsteps echoed down the sterile hospital hallway until you reached the room. The moment you stepped in, your whole body tensed. Pau was lying in bed, half his face bandaged, the other still stained with blood. Your heart dropped. And yet, he smiled at you.

You couldn’t believe it. He was smiling.

In two quick steps, you were at his side, pulling him into a tight hug as tears streamed down your face.

“Stop smiling, idiot… it’s only gonna hurt more,” you sobbed, running your hand down his back. You could feel his jersey under your touch and were relieved that he came straight from the game.

“I’m fine, love… it’s just a scratch. Comes with the job, you know that,” he whispered into your ear, struggling to speak but still trying to comfort you.

“Pau, don’t try to calm me down when you’re the one looking like this,” you said, pulling back to meet his eyes, barely holding back your tears. Pau didn’t respond, maybe because he agreed, maybe because his jaw hurt too much.

The team staff member came in with the doctor’s update: Pau needed rest and shouldn’t chew anything hard for a while to avoid reopening the stitches. You paid close attention, determined to follow every instruction once you got him home.

You ended up going to Pau’s place, you already had clothes and essentials there from the nights you stayed over. While he took a shower, you got to work making soup so he wouldn’t have to chew.

You expected to feel his arms wrap around you from behind like he always did, but that hug never came. When you turned around, drying your hands, you saw him sitting on the couch, head down, hands fidgeting.

The energy in the room had sunk into the floor. You’d never seen Pau this sad. Always smiling, always keeping it together. But you knew the real him, the one who carried more than he ever let on. And you knew he struggled to show vulnerability, even with you.

You walked over quietly, knelt in front of him, and gently took his hands to stop their anxious movements.

“Pau… look at me,” you said softly.

He winced at your voice, shutting his eyes tightly, like he was bracing for impact. But you just watched him with your heart aching, seeing him fight back the tears like always. You’d told him before that it was okay to be vulnerable with you, that you’d carry each other’s burdens. But he never wanted to be a weight on anyone.

“You can cry, Pau,” you whispered, your brow furrowed as your own tears welled up.

He gripped your hands tightly, then slowly slid off the couch and into your arms, burying his face in your neck. You froze for a moment, not expecting him to let go so quickly. Then you wrapped him tightly in your arms, brushing his hair gently and whispering how brave he was, how proud you were of him.

“You’re a warrior, Pau. Barça wouldn’t be what it is without players like you. I know you live for the colors, and I admire that, but I hope this helps you see it’s okay to be careful too. Think of yourself, just a little.”

You pulled back gently, cupped his face carefully, and looked into his teary eyes to make sure he heard you loud and clear. My poor baby.

“Don’t say anything, okay? Your jaw must be swollen. I’ll get you some ice later,” you said when he tried to respond. “Tonight, your only job is to say yes or no to my excellent nursing services 'kay?”

He almost smiled, but winced at the pain. You chuckled.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop being funny for your sake,” you teased, giving him a kiss on the nose, then one on his uninjured cheek. You leaned in slowly and kissed the stitched side too, praying it didn’t hurt. Pau exhaled deeply, like he’d needed that more than anything.

He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and looked at you with so much love, then pointed at himself, then you, and made a heart with his hands.

“I love you.” You understood instantly and melted right there.

“I love you too, idiot. Even if your way of playing scares the hell out of me.”

You kissed him gently on the lips, careful not to hurt him, but when he kissed back, you leaned in with more confidence, your hands on his chest and his on your waist. When you pulled away, you rested your forehead against his and stroked his neck, listening to his calm breathing. His grip on your waist tightened with affection, and you wiped the rest of his tears away.

Remembering the doctor’s instructions, you took his hands and guided him to let go.

“I know it’s hard to let go of me,” you joked, smiling when he resisted. “But I’ve gotta check the soup. I’ll be fast.”

Pau nodded, already missing your warmth. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you. You reminded him of who he was, something easy to forget in moments like this. He thought you were perfect for him.

He smiled softly at the thought, interrupted when you returned with a tray: a bowl of soup, a glass of water, and his meds.

“Alright, pretty boy, I hope you finish this as fast as you throw yourself into tackles on the field,” you joked, sitting down next to him on the carpet.

“Thank you,” he whispered, trying not to move his jaw too much.

“De nada, amor. Want me to help?”

He shook his head, took the spoon from your hand, and kissed it as if saying 'don't-worry-i-got-it'.

After a quiet, comforting dinner, you both headed upstairs to sleep. You changed into your usual “pajamas”, a pair of shorts and one of Pau’s black Nike shirts. You breathed in his scent like it was medicine.

In the bathroom, you found him wincing every time his toothbrush brushed the left side of his mouth. He turned and winked at you when he noticed you watching.

“I can’t imagine how much that hurts, and you’re still brushing your teeth? You know I’ll love you even if your breath stinks, right?” you teased, grabbing your pink toothbrush and gently nudging him with your hip.

Pau chuckled lowly at your antics, turning his head with a small, pained smile.

After doing your little silly dances in front of the mirror, you both rinsed and headed to bed, Pau wrapping his arms around you from behind on the way.

“You look gorgeous,” he whispered in your ear. He loved how his t-shirts looked on you, it drove him crazy. He would’ve shown you just how much he would love to see you without it, but with how exhausted he was, he settled for soft kisses that didn’t hurt too much.

Snuggled up in bed, with him still holding you from behind, you both warmed up instantly under the covers. Taking advantage of the position, Pau gently moved your hair aside and placed little kisses on the back of your neck. It tickled, but you tried not to move too much, though you couldn't hold in the giggle. He loved that sound when it came from you.

“I love you,” he said after pressing his lips to your neck a little longer. It sounded so genuine it made your chest tighten with emotion. You turned around to face him and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I love you too, mi guerrero,” you murmured, resting your head on his chest, enjoying the way his hands instinctively wrapped around you. He turned off the light and tucked you in better, caressing your back in the process. (my warrior)

Pau knew that with you by his side, he could throw himself a thousand more times on the field without fear, because no matter what, you’d be there, supporting him. And you were just as sure that you would do it again and again, even if it meant worrying about him.

#fc barcelona x reader #fcb x reader #footballer x reader #pau cubarsi x reader #pau cubarsi #pau cubarsí x you #footballer x y/n #fc barcelona #barça #fluff

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smilingformoney · 3 days ago

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Champagne Problems ~ Lionel/Reader

Chapter 3. Paris

Summary: In 1989, Sinclair reunites with an old friend; in 1971, Lionel has a romantic surprise for you.

Word count: 10.9k

AN: shout out to @evans23 for helping me with the French!

Read on Ao3 or below the cut:

1989

“Hello? Earth to Lionel?”

Sinclair waved his hand in front of his cousin’s face.

“Hm?”

“What’s got into you? You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said all evening.”

“No, of course I have,” Lionel lied.

“Then what was I just talking about?”

“Erm… wedding plans?”

“…Lucky guess,” Sinclair muttered before taking a sip of his beer. “Look, I know you don’t like Natalie very much, but can you at least pretend to be happy for me? I’m finally getting married!”

“Of course I’m happy for you, Sinclair. I’m just preoccupied, that’s all. You’ll never guess who I found selling picture frames on Cornelia Street.”

Sinclair shrugged. “Dunno. James Callaghan?”

“[Y/n] [L/n].”

“…Wait, like your ex [Y/n] [L/n]?” Sinclair gasped. “Oh my god! I had no idea she was in London. What do you mean, she was selling picture frames?”

“Exactly that. She owns a shop that sells picture frames. I hired a PI to find her, it took him over a month, and she was down the road the whole bloody time.”

Sinclair stammered, overwhelmed by questions to ask. “Why did you hire a PI to find her? Did you speak to her? What did she say? Is she —”

Lionel held up a hand to cut Sinclair off before he asked any more questions.

“I wanted to find her because… well, it doesn’t matter now. It was completely foolish. She wasn’t happy to see me.”

“Well… are you surprised? Things didn’t exactly end well, Li.”

“And whose fault is that?” Lionel snapped.

Sinclair frowned and titled his head slightly. “Do you really not know?”

Lionel crossed his arms and sat back in his seat, sulking.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. She kicked me out. I thought that’d be the end of it, but… god, I forgot how invasive she is. Like a weed. Takes root in your mind and stays there. It was the same when we met, do you remember? I knew nothing about her and yet I couldn’t stop thinking about her for weeks.”

Sinclair smiled, a cheeky, knowing smile, and Lionel knew exactly what that look meant.

“No,” he said firmly.

“You’re still in love with her! Oh, Lionel, that is adorable!”

“Fucking pathetic is what it is. I’m a mighty lion, and what is she? A weed. A stubborn bloody weed that won’t leave my head.” He tapped the side of his head to demonstrate the point, as if he could push you out. “Maybe I just need to get laid, put her out of my mind.”

“Absolutely not!” Sinclair said firmly. “You listen to me, Lionel Shabandar. I have never, in all my life, seen you as happy as you were with her, or as miserable as you were when it ended. You were both kids, and you fucked up. But that was almost twenty years ago! You’re different people now! You should try to reconnect with her. At least… at least hash things out. You clearly still have feelings for her, and she must do too if she was so upset at seeing you again. If you got back together, that would be amazing, but at the very least you can talk and get some closure.”

Lionel hesitated, thinking, then shook his head.

“No. No, it’s no use. It’s over.”

- - -

“We’re closed,” you said, not looking up from your stock report as you heard the bell ring. “Sorry, I forgot to lock the door. Come back tomorrow.”

“You know, you’d get more business if you stayed open an hour longer, then you’d get customers coming by after work.”

You looked up, frowning, wondering where the hell the unsolicited business advice was coming from.

Your frown deepened for a moment, then was completely erased and replaced with a joyous grin.

“Oh my god, Sinclair! Hi!”

You tossed your report aside and jumped up from behind the counter, practically running around it to meet him on the shop floor and give him a massive hug.

He laughed and hugged you back, rocking you from side to side slightly in excitement.

“Well, that’s a greeting! I wish everyone was always so happy to see me!”

You pulled back and looked at him. He was older, of course, but he still had a sort of youthful exuberance to him. His smile lit up his face, and he was quite possibly the very antithesis of his cousin.

“Oh, look at you! I missed that smile. How are you?”

“I’m great! I’m working as a business analyst now, which basically means I get to tell people what I think’s going to happen, and they pay me loads for it. And — the best news — I’m getting married soon!”

“Oh wow, that’s amazing! I’m surprised you’re not married already, you’re such a catch. Did things not work out with Emily? You were so enamoured with her!”

“Emily, wow, I haven’t thought about her in ages. No, we broke up during third year. She didn’t like how much time I was spending preparing for my exams instead of with her. Anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about Emily.”

You looked at him suspiciously.

“If Lionel sent you…”

“No, no! I mean, he told me you were here, but he didn’t send me. I sent myself. When he told me he’d found you, I simply had to come and see you! I really missed hanging out with you, you know. I understand why you didn’t want to see me after what happened with Lionel but… it really sucked that I lost a friend.”

You smiled. You’d forgotten just how genuinely endearing Sinclair was.

“Sinclair, you are such a cutie. We should absolutely hang out again.”

“Yes!” Sinclair agreed, bouncing on his feet with excitement. “I’m glad you said that, because I wanted to invite you to a picnic this weekend! I have my own place out in Windsor. It’s got these really big open gardens, and I love hosting picnics. You should come! We can catch up, and you can meet Natalie! Are you with anyone? You can bring a plus one, if you like.”

“No, I’ll come on my own,” you said quickly. “Um — will Lionel be there?”

“Oh — oh, no, Lionel won’t be there. Sorry, I should have mentioned that. No, he’s busy this weekend, so he can’t make it. So you’ll come then?”

“Yes! Yes, of course. Just give me the time and place, and I’ll be there.”

Sinclair grinned. “Great! This is gonna be so fun!”

- - -

Sinclair’s house was absolutely beautiful. It wasn’t quite as massive as his childhood home, but it was still huge, and you could see what he meant about the gardens. He clearly felt safe there, because when you approached the door it was wide open — something that nobody of sound mind would ever do in London.

You followed the sound of voices through the house and found yourself stepping through a very leafy conservatory and emerging in the open garden, which led down to a riverbank.

Sinclair was easy to find. His voice was the loudest, the most animated, and his boisterous laugh was like a homing signal, letting everyone in a two-mile radius know where he was and that he found something very funny.

He was standing with two women and a man, and he jumped slightly when you tapped him on the shoulder, but he grinned when he realised it was you.

“[Y/n], at last!”

He put an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into the little circle.

“Everyone, this is [Y/n]! She and I go way back. [Y/n], this is David and Laura. David works with me, in the finance department. And this lovely lady is my fiancee, Natalie!”

The first thing you noticed about Natalie was that she was very pretty. The second thing you noticed was that she was very clearly nothing like Sinclair. She held herself almost timidly, like she was afraid to take up space; unlike Sinclair, whose energy naturally filled any room he was in.

“Hello,” Natalie said with a polite smile, although you saw her eyes flicker to the arm that Sinclair had flung over your shoulder.

Bless him, he hadn’t changed much. He was still loud, still full of energy, and still totally oblivious. He didn’t think anything of putting his arm around another woman, because the other woman was you, and the possibility of there being anything between you was hardly even an idea in his mind. Even though you were long broken up, you’d always be Lionel’s girlfriend to him, and as far as he was concerned, you were like a sister.

“I was just telling the story of how Natalie and I met! I’ll start again for your sake, [Y/n]. So it was last winter, we were interviewing for new secretaries…”

Eventually, David and Laura managed to extract themselves from the conversation, and Sinclair turned his attention to you.

“Right, [Y/n], now I have you trapped at my home. Ha ha! All part of my evil plot to know every single thing that’s happened in your life in the last seventeen years. Come on, sit down!”

He led you over to the riverbank, and along the way he grabbed a picnic basket to share with you. You weren’t sure he’d even noticed Natalie had wandered off several minutes ago.

“You sit,” he instructed, indicating the edge of the river. “I’ll pour.”

You sat cross-legged by the river, and Sinclair sat with his feet dangling over the edge, the picnic basket between you. He pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses, and you held the glasses up for him as he poured the wine and rambled on about the vintage.

“Here we are! Cheers!”

“Cheers.”

You clinked glasses and took a sip; Sinclair took a generous gulp.

“Help yourself to some snacks! You can have anything that’s in there. So, come on, tell me! What’s your life been like? How did you end up selling picture frames?”

You looked at him with curiosity. “You know, Lionel asked me the same thing.”

“Well, it’s an interesting question!”

“He made it sound like an insult.”

Sinclair grimaced. “Yeah, I suppose he would… well, I’m just curious, I promise. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with selling picture frames at all. Without people like you, what would he put his art collection in?”

“I suppose that’s true,” you said with a laugh. “Art’s actually how I got into it. My — someone I know is an artist, and we discovered frames are usually just one section of a bigger shop, so the options on display were limited. You could look in a catalogue for more, but you really need to see it in person to get the sense if it’s right or not. Dad’s cafe’s doing really well — he has four branches now — so he was able to give me a business loan to open my own place. I saw frames as a gap in the market, so… here I am.”

“That’s amazing! You always did have a good business sense. And, hey, if you ever need anyone to have a look at the picture frame market and make some predictions, I’m your man!” Sinclair decreed, pointing to himself for emphasis.

“Thanks, Sinclair, I’ll bear that in mind. And, hey, if I’m feeling generous, I might give you some free frames for your wedding photos.”

“Oh, that’d be amazing! But you should offer a discount to friends, not freebies, because then you still get to at least get the base costs back, and they still feel like you’ve done them a favour. So anything else? Like… a boyfriend? Husband? Kids? This is me asking, by the way, not Lionel. He doesn’t even know you’re here.”

You laughed. “No, I’m not married. Turns out I have trust issues, who’d have thought?” You shrugged. “I’m in no rush. I believe in the right thing happening at the right time.”

“Like when Lionel went for a smoke outside the art block at the right time! Or when Mum and I decided to try that cafe in Basingstoke at the right time. ‘Cus then I met you!”

“Oh, how is your mum, by the way?”

“She’s great! She lives in London now. She remarried! Her husband’s great, he’s filthy rich too so we know he’s not using her for her money. They’re always going on cruises. Lionel has the country house, the one you came to, he uses it for his art collection and to host galas and stuff.”

“And Georgina?”

“She’s… okay,” Sinclair said with much less certainty. “She’s in a care home now. Mentally she’s fine, sharp as ever, but she got MS a few years ago so she doesn’t walk anymore. But Lionel and I put her in the best place, she’s basically living in a luxury spa resort. Says she likes it better ‘cus she gets waited on hand and foot, and she doesn’t have to deal with us anymore.”

You reached over and took your hand in his. “I’m sorry, Clair. Even if she’s in a good place, it’s hard to watch someone you love get sick like that.”

Sinclair nodded and gave your hand a grateful squeeze. “Thanks, [Y/n]. You know, I… I really have missed you. I didn’t even realise I did. Does that make sense? It’s like, I got used to you not being there, and you just became an old memory, but as soon as I saw you again it was like no time had passed at all, and I remembered why you were so important to me. That time we spent together, the three of us — it was amazing. I think it really helped shape who I am.”

He sighed and shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry it all got so messy in the end.”

“Nothing that happened was your fault, Sinclair,” you said softly. “It was mine and Lionel’s mess. You just… got caught up in it.”

“But I should’ve —”

“Oh, would’ve, could’ve, should’ve, Clair,” you said dismissively, pulling your hand away from his to open up the picnic basket and root around for a snack. “What’s done is done. Have you got any cheese in here?”

- - -

1971

You’d spent the first few weeks of summer wondering if you’d ever see Lionel again — and now, you were spending every day with him.

You went into London together often, or you’d go to his place, where you were able to spend more time with Sinclair too. Their mums were busy working so you didn’t see them as much, but whenever either of them would come home and find you were there again, they were always glad to see you.

As it turned out, rich people have a lot of parties, and they didn’t mind extra guests coming along. You found yourself at parties every week, sometimes multiple times, hosted by people Lionel hardly even knew, let alone you.

In the middle of August, Lionel called you while you were at home for once on a Thursday and told you to pack a bag for the weekend, and to bring your passport.

“…Why do I need my passport?”

You could practically hear the smug smile he was sporting on the other end of the phone.

“Well, they won’t let you into France without it.”

You couldn’t believe it. He’d actually arranged for you to go to Paris. When you phoned your dad to tell him you couldn’t visit that weekend, he was disappointed, but he was happy for you.

On Friday morning, Lionel met you at your house. You’d agreed to be ready to go at 8 o’clock — but you had no idea he was picking you up himself. He usually sent cars to pick you up, but this time, he knocked on the door at 8 o’clock sharp.

Realising he was actually here himself, you ran down the stairs with your suitcase to try to get to the door yourself, but your mum had already beaten you to it.

“Good morning. I’m here to pick up [Y/n].” Lionel spotted you at the foot of the stairs and his eyes lit up. “Hi, [Y/n].”

“Hi. Mum, you’re in the way.”

“So this is the boyfriend?” your mum said curiously, completely ignoring your attempts to get around her with your bag as she looked Lionel up and down. “You’ve done quite well for yourself there, [Y/n].”

“Mum! That’s so weird! Just — let me through, please.”

She finally backed off, and you practically jumped at the chance to get past her and join Lionel on the doorstep.

“Back on Monday, bye,” you said quickly.

“Be safe!” your mum called after you as you followed Lionel back to the car.

You gave your bag to the waiting driver to put in the boot, then climbed into the back with Lionel.

“Sorry, she is so embarrassing,” you cringed, but Lionel just laughed as he took your hand in his.

“Are you ready for Paris?”

“Oh, I am so ready. Are we still going to the Orsay?”

“Of course. That’s tomorrow’s agenda. I’ve booked us a hotel, so we’ll check in after we land, then we’ll go out for some food and drinks. Tomorrow the Orsay, that’ll take most of the day, I imagine — then we’ll have all of Sunday to ourselves.”

“Have you been to Paris before?”

“Yes, quite a few times, though I’m yet to go to the Orsay. I’ve been wanting to go for a while. I was planning to go by myself this summer, but… I’m happy I get to go with you by my side.”

You smiled and kissed his shoulder. “I’ll be by your side for everything, Li.”

- - -

Your hotel room wasn’t so much a hotel room as an entire apartment. There was a bedroom, a separate living area, a kitchenette, and the bathroom even had a jacuzzi in it.

“Lionel, this is too much!” you gasped as you looked around the apartment. “We don’t need all this for just us.”

“Nonsense. Nothing’s too much for you, and it has a stunning view. Take a look.”

Lionel took your hand and led you to the balcony, which overlooked Paris, and he placed a hand on your waist as he pointed out various landmarks by the Seine.

“It’s a beautiful view,” you agreed.

“It’s even more beautiful from my perspective, because my view has you in it,” Lionel said flirtatiously. He gently pushed your hair away from your neck so he could kiss the bare skin.

“You are such a smooth talker,” you laughed. “You don’t have to seduce me, you know. I’m already — I already like you.”

“I’m just stating facts.”

He kissed further down your shoulder, and you relaxed into his touch.

“When are we having dinner?” you asked.

“Whenever you like. Are you hungry now?”

“Not quite. I’d actually like to try that jacuzzi.”

Lionel grinned. “You read my mind, love. I’ll warn you, though, I haven’t brought any trunks… and I may have omitted to ask you to bring a bikini.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Cheeky. Well, then, I guess we’ll have to go without them, won’t we?”

Lionel growled in excitement, and eagerly led you back into the apartment, already unbuttoning his shirt. He went into the bathroom to fill the jacuzzi up, then came back into the room as he pulled his shirt off.

As he carefully folded it up, you leant against the wall and watched him. He was so gorgeous. He had no hair on his chest, and though the first time you’d seen him shirtless he’d expressed some self-consciousness about it, you assured him that you’d never liked hairy chests, anyway.

“You’re not going into the jacuzzi fully clothed, I hope,” Lionel said with a smirk when he glanced up at you and saw you watching him.

“No, of course not. I just wanted to enjoy the view first.”

“Well, I’d like a view to enjoy in return, please.”

You smiled coyly. You pulled your t-shirt over your head and discarded it; knowing Lionel was always eager to see you get your boobs out, you decided to tease him a little, and left your bra on while you unbuttoned your trousers instead.

“I’ll meet you in there,” you said with a wink, then disappeared into the bathroom before taking your underwear off. The tub was still filling, but you climbed in anyway, letting the hot water climb up your legs as it got higher and higher.

Lionel followed you soon after, lowering himself into the tub with you. He draped an arm over your shoulder and leant down to nuzzle your neck.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he murmured. “I know I say it all the time, but it’s true.”

His other hand slid down your thigh, his fingers teasing your skin as the water lapped higher. You giggled and squirmed a little at the tickling sensation.

“Li, that tickles!”

“Good. I like it when you squirm.”

You felt your heartbeat quicken. His hand was dangerously close now… you placed your hand over his and guided it back towards your knee.

“You know, you didn’t have to do all this, Lionel. I would have been happy with a simple room.”

“You might be, but I’m not. I can afford the best, so why shouldn’t I have it? Besides…” He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I’m not bringing you to Paris to sit in some box of a room with no view. You’ll have the best view, the most comfortable bed, and the most luxurious jacuzzi jets. Speaking of which… I think it’s time we turn them on, don’t you?”

Lionel leaned over to turn the tap off and the jets on. You squealed a little in surprise as the jets of water shot out of the side of the tub, massaging your calves and your back with the water.

“Mhm, that’s better,” Lionel groaned with relief as he sat back on the seat, either arm draped over the edge of the tub. You came closer and cuddled up to him, your head resting on his chest. He smiled and stroked your hair.

“This is nice,” you murmured quietly, your eyes closed as you relaxed. The water was warm, the jets were soothing, and your boyfriend was holding you — you wondered if this was what Heaven felt like.

You sat there in a comfortable silence for a while. Lionel traced lazy shapes on your shoulder, his fingertips absentmindedly exploring your wet skin.

“You’re quiet,” he said softly after a while.

“Just relaxing,” you murmured in reply. “I’m so comfortable with you.”

Lionel smiled and kissed the top of your head.

“Good. I’m comfortable with you, too. Believe me, being with you is exciting in so many ways, but at the same time… you’re the one source of calmness in my life.”

You smiled and looked up at him.

“Have I tamed you?” you teased.

“Oh, nothing will tame this lion, I can assure you,” Lionel said confidently. “I’m a wild beast at heart.”

“Mmm, I bet you are. And I can tell this wild beast is excited about something…”

Lionel opened his mouth to question what you meant, but all he let out was a moan when you dipped your hand into the water and wrapped it around the evidence of his excitement.

Even though Lionel was a virgin, he was still a teenage boy, and he had one thing very prominently on his mind at all times. You knew he wanted to have sex with you. You wanted it too, but your mum’s warning rang in your mind, and you didn’t want to rush into anything and do something stupid.

Lionel respected your boundaries, but you could tell he was struggling. Whenever you made out, when you shared a bed, when he saw you getting dressed — his dick made it very clear what it wanted.

You weren’t being completely prudish. You touched each other sometimes. You were both still learning about your own bodies as well as each other’s, so you could both be clumsy, and sometimes your awkwardness and embarrassment got the best of you. But you were so comfortable together that any embarrassment didn’t last long, and you laughed together at the awkward moments and learnt from one another’s mistakes.

Maybe a romantic trip to Paris was part of Lionel’s plan to get you to put out — and if it was, you weren’t entirely against it working. But most importantly, you were just happy to be alone with him, in an exciting new place, experiencing new things together.

“Does it feel good in the water?” you asked.

Lionel’s reply was just a groan, his head lolling back, his eyes closed as he tried not to cum straight away.

Your wrist couldn’t move as fast as you’d have liked it to in the water, but perhaps that was a good thing. You could see by the strain on his face that Lionel was holding back.

The fact that he was holding back just made you more daring. You moved in the water so that instead of sitting next to him, you were in front of him, floating in the water between his legs as you tugged on him, remembering what he’d told you about focusing on the tip.

“I think — I think you want me to cum in the water,” Lionel panted, finally managing to get some words out.

You pushed yourself up and out of the water slightly so you were level with him. You took his head in your free hand and pulled him closer to allow you to kiss him.

You could feel the water moving around where you were tugging his cock. Your hand movements were still frustratingly slow.

“God, fuck… I can’t…”

Lionel’s cock slipped out of your hand as he pushed himself up and out of the water, and sat himself on the corner of the jacuzzi, his feet resting on the underwater seats, leaving his cock free of the restrictions of the water.

His cock was still standing to attention, and it was directly at eye-level.

You had an idea. It was something Lionel had never asked for, but you knew it was something people did, and you wanted to try it.

You settled yourself between his legs and held the base of his shaft in your hand. Lionel’s grip on the edge of the jacuzzi tightened as he prepared himself for you to start jerking him off faster — what he didn’t expect was for you to open your mouth and to slowly, cautiously, wrap your lips around the tip of his cock.

“Fucking hell, [Y/n],” he hissed.

You knew his cock was big. You knew it was wide. You didn’t think you’d ever get his full length in your mouth — but you didn’t expect to struggle with the width.

You tried to breathe through your nose. Slowly, carefully, bit by bit, you took him further in your mouth. You weren’t making a whole lot of progress, and you knew it would take some practice before you could really take him in your mouth. But you managed to gain enough ground to allow you to bob your head back and forth a little, and the noises Lionel was making made it all worth it.

Lionel placed his hand over yours, the one that was holding him at the base, and gently encouraged you to move it back and forth, allowing you to stimulate his entire length without having to worry about choking yourself.

“Fuck, I… I didn’t think you could get more beautiful, but you’re fucking stunning like this,” Lionel growled through gritted teeth.

You looked up at him, and it took all of his strength not to cum right then. He loved your lips, they were so pretty, so perfectly soft and fun to kiss. They looked even better wrapped around his cock.

Not just that, but he could see your breasts too, nipples just about poking over the water. They were moving slightly with each bob of your head, the water sloshing over them, leaving trails of water that he desperately wanted to lick up.

“Touch yourself,” Lionel ordered between pants. “In the water, touch yourself… I want to see you enjoying this…”

You obeyed, your fingers rubbing at your clit under the water. You knew you wouldn’t cum this way, but just that bit of stimulation gave you at least some relief.

This was what life was about, Lionel thought. People sought joys in all sorts of things — drugs, art, you name it — but sitting here in a jacuzzi in France, jets massaging his legs, and you, the love of his life, touching yourself while you sucked him off… Lionel couldn’t think of anything better — except maybe fucking you. That was a joy he was yet to experience, but he knew it was going to be incredible.

His gaze drifted back to your lips. He wanted to paint them, to cover you with his cum. He grabbed you by the hair and pulled your head back. You came unstuck with a pop, and you gasped for air.

“Touch your tits for me,” Lionel growled as he took his cock in his hand and began pumping it. “But keep your eyes on me.”

You obeyed. You were good like that. You had your boundaries, and he knew you’d say no if something made you uncomfortable. But if you were willing, you always did as he asked.

You massaged your breast with one hand while the other kept rubbing your clit in the water. Your nipples were erect with arousal, and sensitive too. You could feel every squeeze, every pinch, every drop of water. You looked up at Lionel, watching as he jerked himself off in front of you, and when your eyes met, you knew he was moments away.

“I want to cum on you,” Lionel said, his voice high pitched and desperate, nothing like the growling lion he liked to present himself as. “On your face or — or on your tits.”

“On my face,” you replied quickly, not even thinking about it.

“Fuck, yes. Yes, you’ll take my cum on your face. Mmm, good girl… shit… fuck — [Y/n]!”

He let out a loud moan that echoed in the bathroom, and when you saw the sticky, white cum erupting out of his cockhead, you instinctively opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue to catch it.

“Fuck! Fuck, take it… ohh… mhm, [Y/n]…”

He leant his head against the wall, panting for breath, his cock softening in his stilled hand.

You, meanwhile, were still desperately horny.

Lionel didn’t seem to be moving any time soon — but something else was.

You moved over to one of the jets, which were still shooting out water. You positioned yourself in front of it, resting your feet on the seat as you found just the right position… and the hot, hard jet started massaging against your clit.

When Lionel had recovered somewhat and he opened his eyes, he didn’t expect to see you getting yourself off with one of the water jets.

“Enjoying the jacuzzi?”

“I’m so close,” you moaned.

Lionel sunk himself back into the water and wrapped his arms around you. One hand grabbed at your breast while the other found its way between your legs and started rubbing at your clit.

“I believe this is my job,” he purred in your ear. “But I’ll allow some assistance if my girl enjoys it.”

“Oh my god… it feels so good…” you moaned. The combined sensation of Lionel’s fingers and the water jet rubbing at your clit were bringing you closer and closer to orgasm. You needed something more, just a little bit, just to push you over the edge…

As if he could sense your needs, Lionel took your nipple between his fingers and pinched. He rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, and your legs began to shake as your orgasm began to climb.

“Lionel, I’m — I’m gonna…”

“Cum for me, love,” he growled. “Be a good girl and cum for me.”

“Lionel… oh, god, Lionel… Lionel!”

There was absolutely no dignity in it. Your legs shook, your grip on the edge of the tub slipped, and it was only Lionel’s arms around you that stopped you from slipping into the water as your orgasm shook right through you.

It was the most mindblowing orgasm you’d ever had in your life. As the aftershocks wore off, you gave up on attempting to lean on the tub, and you let yourself relax into Lionel’s arms.

He held you close, his torso pressed against your back, one hand still on your breast as he kissed you all over your neck and jawline, as if he needed to consume you.

“[Y/n]… I am going to fuck you.”

You were too blissed-out to say anything, but his words sent a heat blooming in your core.

“I’ll wait until you’re ready, but it’s going to happen. You can’t make noises like that and not expect me to fuck you. I want to make you cum like that around my cock. I want to feel you trembling beneath me as I bring you that pleasure. I want… fuck, [Y/n]. I want you. All of you.”

You smiled and turned around in the water to face him. You kissed him, and it was wet, and you wondered if he could taste his own seed on your tongue. If he did, it didn’t stop him from kissing you back, slowly but passionately, your limbs entwined under the water.

“I want it,” you whispered as you pulled away. “I want to experience everything with you, Lionel. I want to give you everything. All of me… everything I have to give… I’m yours.”

There were three things Lionel wanted to do on this trip, two of which were certain. The first, the museum, that was certain — tomorrow. The second, that was not so certain — to make love to his girlfriend — but it was looking more and more likely. And the third… the third was certain, but he wanted to do it somewhere romantic. And of all the places in Paris, the jacuzzi wasn’t so romantic, so he held off for now, but he was tempted. He was sorely tempted.

Instead, he placed a soft kiss on the end of your nose.

“I think it’s time for dinner, don’t you?”

- - -

You were very rudely awakened by Lionel pulling the curtains open, causing the early morning Parisian sun to hit you in the face.

“Time to get up, love. The gallery opens at nine.”

“Whassa time?”

“Seven.”

You moaned and pulled the duvet over your head.

“We don’t need to wake up two hours before, it’s right there!” you moaned. “C’mon, come back to bed, babe.”

“We need time for a romantic Parisian breakfast, don’t we?” Lionel said as he pulled the duvet back down. Even sleepy, dishevelled and hungover, he thought you looked beautiful in the morning light.

“How are you so awake? I swear you drank as much as me.”

“Lions don’t get hungover. Come on, if you’re so hungover, you need coffee. A good, strong shot of espresso will have you on your feet in no time. Come on, I’ll get your clothes out your bag, you go to the bathroom and freshen up.”

Reluctantly, and with a yawn, you sat up in the bed.

“You know, sometimes I think you and Sinclair are complete opposites,” you grumbled as you pushed yourself out of the bed while Lionel opened up your suitcase. “And sometimes I think you might as well be twins.”

“I don’t know if I should be offended by that. Why have you packed so many clothes? We’re only here for a few days.”

“I like to have options. It’s hot, I should have a summer dress in there somewhere.”

You trudged into the bathroom to sort yourself out. A quick shower had you feeling a little fresher, but your head was still pounding.

You emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Lionel was nowhere to be seen, but he’d left an outfit on the bed, a floral dress with short sleeves and a flowing skirt. You put it on, along with some clean underwear, and you had just finished drying your hair when Lionel returned with two takeaway coffee cups in his hands.

“Here you are. The hotel restaurant does some incredible coffee.”

“Ooh, that is exactly what I need right now, thank you,” you said with a groan of relief. You took the cup gratefully, and smiled when Lionel kissed the top of your head.

“Anything for my girl.”

You smiled coyly. “You like saying that, don’t you? Calling me yours.”

“Well, you are.” Lionel put his coffee cup down and placed his hands on your shoulders as he kissed the top of your head. “Mine, mine, mine,” he growled, punctuating each claim with a kiss. “Tell me now if I’m wrong.”

“Oh, you’re not wrong. I am yours, Li.” You placed your hand over his and leaned into his touch with a smile. “And I am also… very hungover.” You rubbed your temple. “I can’t believe you convinced me to do shots in that bar last night.”

“You’re cute when you’re drunk. Especially when you’re dancing all over me in a nightclub. Come on, are you ready yet? I want to take you to a lovely cafe nearby for breakfast. Food will definitely help your hangover.”

He wasn’t wrong, so you finished getting ready, and just before you took one last drink of your coffee, Lionel handed you some pills.

“For your headache,” he said.

“You think of everything,” you replied. You took the pills, washed them down with the coffee, then held your hand out to Lionel.

“Come on, then. Show me Parisian breakfast.”

Lionel insisted that you get to the Orsay at exactly opening time, but to his annoyance, there was already a queue of people outside.

“Ugh, I hate tourists,” he grumbled as you took your place at the back of the line.

“Hey, we’re tourists.”

“One day, I’ll be so rich, I’ll be able to hire out whole museums so we can visit them in peace. Just you and me, and as much time alone with Monet as we like. We could walk around naked if we wanted.”

You laughed, though you weren’t entirely sure he was joking.

“You’re not rich enough to do that now? Man, you should have said, I wouldn’t have bothered dating you.”

“Watch it, you,” Lionel teased, and you giggled as he tickled your sides. “I only have what Mum gives me.”

“Ohh, poor baby, does Mummy not give you enough money to hire out an entire museum? What a tragedy.”

“I don’t have unlimited access to her bank account, you know. I had to ask her for the money to pay for this trip.”

“Ah, so it’s really Georgina that’s taken me on this romantic trip to Paris. Noted.”

Lionel tried to tickle you again, but you dodged out of the way.

“I told you, I’m going to learn all I can about business at uni, then I’m going to make my own success. I’ll be rich enough to hire this place out, you’ll see.”

“I’m sure I will. Have you any idea what is going to make you so much money? You know, you have to actually do something. You can’t just walk around in a suit and tie pointing at pie charts all day.”

“Dammit, that’s all I thought I had to do. That, and shout at juniors for not getting reports to me in time.”

You laughed. The line began moving steadily as the doors opened and visitors began filing in.

“I’m sure you’ll figure out your path at uni, Li,” you said as you slipped your hand into his. “Maybe you and Sinclair could start your own company together.”

“Mmm, maybe,” Lionel replied noncommittally. “I love him and I’d do anything for him… but I’m not sure I’d trust him with anything financial. Money has a way of slipping through his fingers. I’m not even sure what he spends it on.”

“He probably eats it.”

Lionel guffawed. “You know what, [Y/n], you’re probably right. I’d wager it does all go on food.”

“Where do you guys do your food shopping?”

“How should I know? The staff do the food shopping.”

You had to laugh then.

“Oh my god, Lionel. Do you hear yourself sometimes?” You put on your best imitation of an overly-posh accent. “What do you mean, ‘buy’ food? Does it not simply appear on the table? Mummy told me that if I’m a very good boy this year then Father Christmas might bring me some new Gucci shoes. My driver got sick last week and I had to drive myself around everywhere, it was simply terrible!”

“[Y/n], stop it!” Lionel protested, but he was laughing. “I do not sound like that.”

“You do a little bit.”

“Look, my mother does her best for me, as all mothers do. It’s not my fault she’s filthy rich and spoils me rotten.”

“Ah, so you admit you’re spoiled,” you teased. You were almost at the entrance now, and Lionel reached into his jacket pocket to pull out his wallet to pay your admission.

“Even your wallet’s posh. Is that real leather?”

“[Y/n], shush,” Lionel laughed. “Don’t go blurting it out to the whole world that I’m rich, what if someone tries to mug me?”

“Oh, Li, you don’t need me to do that. Your clothes do that for you.”

Lionel glanced down at his outfit with a frown. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“Trust me, Li. Just like you can probably tell that I wear cheap clothes, yours scream expensive.”

“I just have good taste,” Lionel said stubbornly.

He approached the counter with a confident, polite smile.

“Bonjour. Deux billets, s'il vous plaît.”

“Ce sera deux euros. Souhaitez-vous faire un don pour soutenir notre travail?”

Lionel opened his mouth to say something, but then he glanced at you, and apparently changed his mind.

“Oui, bien sûr. Voici dix euros en plus.”

“Merci pour votre générosité, monsieur. Voici un guide du musée.”

The man handed Lionel a leaflet. Lionel glanced at it, then said, “Vous l'auriez en anglais?”

The man glanced at you, apparently unimpressed.

“Oui, voici une version anglaise,” he said, and he handed Lionel another leaflet. “Bonne visite, profitez-en bien.”

“Nous le ferons, merci. Bonne journée.”

Lionel placed a hand on the small of your back and ushered you on into the museum as the man behind the counter beckoned over the next visitor.

“Lionel…”

“Mmm?” he responded absentmindedly as he opened one of the leaflets.

“You’re so hot when you speak French.”

He glanced up at you and smirked. “Oh, really? I’ll have to remember that. It’ll be a lot easier to seduce you if I don’t have to actually say anything sexy. I’ll just recite the recipe for a cake in French.”

“Oh, Lionel, don’t be silly. You don’t know the recipe for a cake. Have you ever even stepped foot in a kitchen?”

Lionel smacked you with the leaflet playfully.

“As a matter of fact, I have. I’ll have you know that a few years ago, Sinclair became obsessed with the idea of baking. After his third burnt cake, I had to step in and supervise. It was an awful experience, I hated every second, I have no idea why some people pursue it as a career. Now, do you want to see the Monets first, or save the best until last?”

“Hmm… let’s do them first. Then we won’t be rushing through everything else to get to them.”

“Excellent. Here’s your guide — no, that’s mine. Here’s yours.”

He handed you one of the leaflets, the second one he’d been handed.

“What’s the difference?”

“This one’s French. Come on, it’s this way.”

“Are you completely fluent in French?” you asked as Lionel took your hand and led you in the direction the guide had pointed him.

“I’m fluent in French, Spanish and Italian,” Lionel said as if it was no big deal. “I can speak Dutch and Norwegian too, though not as well. Sinclair, of course, is fluent in all of them. He’s like a human Rosetta Stone. What languages do you speak?”

“English.”

“And?”

“English.”

“Seriously? They don’t even teach French in state schools?”

“We did a bit but it was all, like, basic stuff. You know — Bonjour. Comment vas-tu? Comment t'appelles-tu? Je m'appelle [Y/n]. Je suis fille unique. J'habite à Winchester. Mon cours préféré est l'art. Où est la bibliothèque? That’s about the extent of my French. Oh, and the lyrics to Frère Jacques.”

Lionel chuckled. “They taught you the important things, then. Did they teach you how to say ‘My boyfriend is very handsome’?”

“No, why would I need to say that? Everyone can see how handsome you are.”

“But can they see that I’m your boyfriend?”

You glanced down at your joined hands.

“Point taken,” Lionel conceded. “Ah — there it is!”

He pointed to a door, which had Exposition Monet written at the top.

Although there’d been a queue to get in, the visitors had all headed in different directions depending on what they wanted to see, and the place was so huge that it was still fairly empty. When you stepped into the Monet Exhibition, you only saw two other people in there, and it was easy to ignore their presence.

There was something peaceful about viewing art with Lionel. He took his time with each piece, admiring it in detail. You’d gone to galleries together before, London had plenty, and every time, it was as if some other side of him came out.

It was easy to think of Lionel as a serious person. He was good at acting the part of the serious, well-educated posh boy you’d expected of him when you knew nothing about him but the college he went to. And next to Sinclair, full of energy and jokes, Lionel might seem, to an outsider, the most serious, unamused person in the world.

But you knew better. You saw him when you were alone, when his facade faded away and he felt comfortable enough to be himself around you. He was funny, he didn’t take himself too seriously, and sometimes he even let you see that he wasn’t always as pretentiously self-confident as he seemed.

But this Lionel, the Lionel even you rarely saw — it was like a third, hidden layer of his personality. He was quiet, but you could sense that internally, he was admiring every brushstroke, every choice of colour, every drop of paint that captured an artist’s vision.

It wouldn’t be until after you left a gallery and you were brought back into the real world that Lionel would say anything about the pieces you’d looked at. You would spend hours talking, discussing your favourite pieces, which ones had moved you, which had moved him, and swapping ideas and interpretations. Sometimes you disagreed, but you found that even more enthralling, because neither of you ever said the other was wrong, and you both loved to hear the other’s interpretation.

You turned into a separate room, and you saw a very familiar painting ahead of you.

“Look, it’s our old friend,” Lionel said, speaking for the first time since you’d entered the exhibition.

He led you by the hand up to Haystacks at Dawn, the very same painting he’d shown you the day you met. The plaque, written in both French and English, told you it was on loan from a private collection.

There was a kind of stillness in him when he was looking at art. But you could feel his thumb moving, gently stroking your hand, as if that one part of him that was connected to you stayed grounded while the rest of him was lost somewhere within the painting.

“Lionel?”

“Hmm?”

He turned his head towards you slightly, but his eyes remained fixed on the canvas.

“I love you.”

It took him a moment to tear his eyes away from the painting, but when he looked at you, it was as if you were the only work of art there.

He didn’t say anything at first. It wasn’t hesitation — more of a basking in the moment, letting the reality of what you’d said set in.

His smile lit up his face in a way you’d never seen before. It was a mixture of relief, of peace and comfort; as if your words had washed all his worries away.

He leant down and kissed you, his lips soft on yours. He usually kissed you so passionately, his tongue pressing into your lips; but now, his lips were softly ghosting yours, as if he were kissing the words that had just left them.

His amber eyes gazed into yours with ardent adoration.

“I love you, too,” Lionel said softly.

You felt a weight lift from your chest, one you hadn’t even known was there, and a feeling of serenity took its place, enclosing your heart in a soft, warm, protective embrace. Nothing could hurt you now.

You wrapped your arms around his torso and held him in an embrace. Lionel hugged you back, his lips ghosting kisses across your forehead. In front of you both, Haystacks at Dawn was still there, a silent observer; its paint had sat on its canvas for eighty years, waiting to connect this, the greatest moment of Lionel’s life, to that morning in Monet’s life all that time ago.

And Lionel knew that he would never look at that painting the same way again.

- - -

“Oh fuck, that feels so fucking good.”

Lionel smirked to himself as he heard your voice from the bathroom. He had every intention of making you repeat that phrase soon for a very different reason; but for now, you were saying it because your feet were on fire from walking around the museum all day, and you’d just lowered them into the scalding hot water of the jacuzzi.

His feet were fine, of course. He’d spent many hours exploring Paris in the past, and he’d invested in some very comfortable shoes for it. You, meanwhile, had worn sandals with your summer dress, and they were definitely not designed for walking around in all day.

After the museum - which had taken you most of the day - Lionel had taken you for an early dinner at a fancy restaurant. Usually, you insisted on ordering for yourself, but since you had no idea what the menu said or how to order it, Lionel had ordered for you. You didn’t complain; it meant you could listen to him speak more French.

Lionel wanted to go out for drinks afterwards, but you wanted to rest your feet, so you agreed to go back to the hotel room for a while first.

While bathing your feet, you came to a decision. You knew what you wanted; and you wanted it now.

You’d already told him you loved him. Now you wanted to show him.

When you emerged from the bathroom, Lionel was sat on the edge of the bed, casually reading the back of a champagne bottle as he sipped on a glass of its contents.

“This stuff’s excellent. Do you want to try some?” Lionel asked, holding up the glass to you.

Your response was to take the bottle from his hand, and the glass, and place them on a nearby cabinet. You turned back to Lionel, who was frowning at his drink being taken away, but his mood quickly changed when you straddled his lap and held his head in your hands to kiss him.

Any thoughts of champagne were suddenly forgotten. All Lionel wanted to taste was you. His arms snaked around your torso, holding you close against him as he kissed you back. Emboldened by the drinks he’d already had at dinner, Lionel let a hand wander down your back, and when it landed on your rear, you didn’t protest. He let his other hand follow the same path, and even when he squeezed both your cheeks, you didn’t stop him. In fact, your reaction was to thrust your hips forward, and Lionel could feel his trousers tightening.

“[Y/n]… I’ve warned you about wriggling on my lap,” Lionel said through gritted teeth as your kisses wandered down his jawline. “Are you trying to get me excited?”

You just kept kissing him until you reached his ear, then said softly, “Are there condoms in your bag?”

Lionel’s breath hitched.

“Why… why would I pack condoms?”

“Hmm, I don’t know… a romantic trip to Paris with your girlfriend… why wouldn’t you pack condoms?”

“I… yes, I brought some. Just — just in case.”

“Good.” You pressed a kiss to the end of his nose. “Better get them out, then.”

Lionel’s eyes went wide for a moment, then narrowed again as he remembered his confidence. You stood to let him up, and he tried to act cool as he went over to his suitcase to dig out the box of condoms he’d packed, hidden from view beneath his underwear.

“I’ve… had these for a few weeks,” he admitted as he turned back to you with the box in hand. You’d sat yourself on the bed and scooted up to sit against the headboard.

“It’s open,” you said curiously as Lionel placed the box on the bedside table and shrugged off his jacket.

“I practised putting it on,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to do it wrong when — when the time came.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand over yours.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want you to feel like you have to because I’ve brought you to Paris.”

You smiled sweetly. “Yes, I’m sure, Li. Anyway, I don’t have much choice after hearing you speak so much French today. Every time your accent changed, I had to resist the urge to drop my knickers right there and then.”

Lionel chuckled and pushed himself onto the bed to straddle your legs. “I didn’t know French had such an effect on you. I’d have started speaking French to you weeks ago if I’d known.”

“I didn’t know either until I heard it from you. You could say anything in French and it’d sound sexy.”

Lionel smirked mischievously. He leaned forward and brought his lips close to your ear, then whispered, “Omelette du fromage.”

You burst out laughing.

“Come on, I know that means cheese omelette!”

Lionel laughed as he pulled away and sat back. He placed his hands on your knees and gently moved them away from each other, smiling as he admired the view of your skirt riding up your thighs.

“I think I’ll start with taking your knickers off,” he said with a growl.

He placed his hands on your hips and pulled you down the bed until you were flat on your back. His thumbs slipped under the waistband of your knickers, and he gently pulled them down your legs and past your ankles, before discarding them on the floor somewhere.

You felt exposed like this, Lionel’s grip on your thighs keeping them firmly in place, so you couldn’t have closed your legs if you wanted to. He was looking between your legs hungrily, his pupils wide and dilated, as he considered his next move.

“Maybe you’re right about calling yourself a lion. You look like you’re about to pounce.”

Lionel’s eyes flickered up to yours, and he smirked.

“I am a lion, darling.” His eyes drifted down again. “I suppose that makes you my gazelle.”

He certainly moved with the swiftness of a pouncing lion going in for the kill, but instead of teeth sinking into the flesh of prey, he dipped his head between your legs and you felt his tongue delve beneath your folds.

You gasped, and that only spurred him on, his tongue exploring your folds as enthusiastically as it had explored your mouth on many occasions. He licked every inch of you he could find, and you were sure he was leaving your clit for last — you knew damn well he knew where it was, his fingers had proven that several times now.

When he finally deigned to show you some attention where it really mattered, he gave you the smallest, slightest lick under the hood, right on it, and you let out a whine.

You could feel him smirking. You could feel his fucking pride against your skin as he licked you again, and you let out another whine.

He was doing it on purpose, you realised as he did it a third time. He was giving you a small but perfect lick, just enough to make you whine, then pausing before doing it again.

“Stop teasing and do it properly, you arsehole,” you said through gritted teeth.

Lionel pulled his head back slightly to look up at you and laughed.

“Anything for you, mon chérie.”

He stopped teasing. He did it properly.

He was a quick learner. It was his first time eating you out, yet somehow he was able to stimulate you in ways you could never do with your own fingers, even though you’d been touching yourself since you were eleven years old.

Then again, a tongue was very different from a finger. It was wetter, softer, and able to change shape. Lionel could also, you discovered with a moan, close his lips around your clit and suck.

That was apparently the last straw. Lionel kept sucking and licking as you came, legs shaking and mouth crying out something that vaguely resembled his name. It was only when you asked him to stop that he stilled his movements and pulled his head back, and the sight of his lips and chin covered in your glistening cum was bested only when you saw him wipe his chin with his thumb, then lick the thumb clean.

“You’d better get those fucking clothes off,” you said as you reached over for the box of condoms.

“Since when does the gazelle give the lion orders?”

Even so, Lionel obeyed, fingers making quick work of his shirt. You pulled your dress over your head, then unclasped your bra and tossed it all aside.

Lionel groaned with relief when he was able to pull his trousers down and free his cock. He kicked away the remainder of his clothing, then took the condom from you. You watched as he rolled it down his shaft, then you wrapped your hand around him and gave it a few experimental tugs to see what it felt like.

“When you practised… did you cum in it?”

“Mmm. It feels different. Less sensitive, perhaps, but that may be a good thing — I might finish too soon otherwise.”

“Did you think about me?” you asked teasingly.

Lionel raised an eyebrow at you. “[Y/n], I have thought about you with every wank since the day we met. I’d hope you’ve been thinking about me too.”

“Oh, I have,” you promised. “Especially since I first touched your cock and realised how big you are… I’ve been wondering what it’ll feel like to have you inside me. If you’ll even fit.”

“Then wonder no more. Lie down, darling.”

You did, and as you adjusted the pillow to support your neck comfortably, Lionel kissed his way up your body, starting from your belly button, all the way up your chest until he was kissing your lips again.

His body was pressed against yours. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and you could definitely feel his cock pressing against you, just one swift movement away from pushing inside.

“You’re shivering,” Lionel said with a small frown when he pulled away from the kiss and noticed you were shaking slightly. “Are you cold?”

“I’m — I’m nervous,” you admitted shyly.

Lionel kissed your lips softly. “So am I,” he admitted.

“I thought lions didn’t get nervous?”

“Perhaps I’m more human than I thought.” He gently stroked a stray strand of hair away from your face. “Are you ready, love?”

You nodded. You’d never been more ready for anything in your life. You didn’t just want him; you needed him.

Lionel pushed his hips forward slightly… and missed, his cock sliding up against your skin instead.

You reached down and took his cock in your hand. You guided him towards your entrance, and when he slipped inside, he let out a low groan.

“Holy shit,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

You pulled your hand away, instead wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him close to you as his hips moved further forward.

“Oh my god, [Y/n]. You feel… fucking phenomenal. I had - Christ! - I had no idea it would feel like this. So — so wet and warm. Fuck. How does it feel?”

“I can — I can feel you stretching me out,” you gasped in response. “It’s good — a good stretch. Like my body’s… expanding to fit you.”

“Mmm, yes, you’ll take all of me. And you wondered how I’d fit… the answer is perfectly. You were meant to take me, don’t you think? The gazelle meant to be devoured by the lion.”

He let out a groan as he bottomed out, his hips pushing into your thighs. Lionel took the skin of your neck between his teeth and sucked, as if he really were trying to devour you.

“I’m not… I’m not a gazelle,” you breathed.

Lionel released your neck from his lips so he could look up at you with amusement.

“Oh? Then what are you?”

You kissed him, hard and firm, as if marking your territory, then raised your lips to his ear.

“I’m the fucking lioness.”

Lionel physically shuddered as a wave of arousal swept over him.

“Yes… yes, you fucking are. Of course you are. My lioness. Then I hope you’re ready, love. Because I’m going to fuck you like the mighty fucking lioness you are.”

“Then do it.”

Lionel grinned, and you really hoped the hotel walls were soundproof, because the noise you made when he began slamming his hips into you was ungodly. And he kept going, which only made your sinful moans longer.

“I’m not gonna fucking last long if you - hah - if you moan like that,” Lionel grunted. “Bloody hell, love, I can’t tell you how fucking good you feel. I’m afraid I won’t last a day without fucking you now, not now I know this is how it feels. Even better than I imagined, fuck… fucking hell, [Y/n]. I love you. I really fucking - Christ! - I really love you. Shit, I’m about to cum already…”

“Do it, I want you to,” you gasped. “I want you to cum with your cock inside me, Li…”

“Oh, I will, I promise you that. Fuck, I — [Y/n] — [Y/n]!”

His hips stilled as he came, and that beautiful look on his face of utter ecstasy as he lost control looked even more beautiful from this angle.

Your name melted into a groan, and then a grunt of exhaustion as Lionel’s entire body relaxed and he practically flopped onto you.

“Fucking hell, [Y/n],” he mumbled as he nuzzled your neck and planted soft kisses on your skin. “You’re amazing.”

You smiled and kissed his shoulder.

“I know.”

Lionel laughed breathily, then pulled out of you and managed to sit himself up to pull the condom off.

“Back in a sec.”

He pushed himself off the bed and took himself into the bathroom, where you heard him turn on the tap, no doubt to clean himself up.

You took the opportunity to sit up slightly and look between your legs. To your surprise, there was no blood, just the usual glistening of your own secretions.

When Lionel came out of the bathroom, you took your turn. You returned to him sitting up against the headboard, still stark naked, lighting a cigarette.

“Do you want one?” he asked, pointing to the packet of cigarettes that now sat next to the condoms on the bedside table.

You shook your head as you climbed back onto the bed with him, an arm snaking over his torso as you cuddled up to him. Lionel wrapped his arm around you and cuddled you back.

“You okay?” he murmured.

You nodded and smiled happily.

“I thought there’d be blood. My friends all told me you bleed the first time.”

“Only if your boyfriend doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Lionel said smugly. He took a long drag of his cigarette, then said, “I know that was quick. I knew it’d be good, but I didn’t think it’d be that good. I’ll be ready to go again soon, we can do it again if you want. Tomorrow too. In fact, forget seeing Paris, let’s just stay in here and shag all day.”

You laughed and looked up at him. “Think you’ve got the stamina for that? Lions aren’t known for their endurance.”

Lionel grinned.

“When they’re in heat, they shag about fifty times a day. Think we can match that?”

“I have a feeling you’re gonna try.”

Lionel reached over to stub his cigarette out in the ashtray, then wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you down onto the bed, kissing every inch of you he could find. He growled with arousal as your bodies pressed together, and you could feel him getting erect again.

“You’ve awoken the beast now, love. And I am going to fucking devour you.”

Paris could wait. Your boyfriend had only one thing on his mind, and so did you; you knew you weren’t leaving this hotel room for a long time.

#alan rickman #lionel shabandar #sinclair bryant #lionel x reader #gambit 2012 #close my eyes 1991 #champagne problems

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girlivealwaysbean · 6 months ago

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i think growing up is just life repeatedly sucker punching you and saying bitch you thought things were gonna better lmao no you're so naive and stupid for having hope in 20 years the world will be flaming bag of garbage and no matter how hard you work you'll get eliminated at some point

#and then you just have to get up and keep living anyway because what else is there to do?#but man my heart keeps feeling heavier with every blow #2024 has literally been the worst year ever god personally too #like everytime i think it can't possibly get worse than this it does #i remember literally 9th jan i had such a horrible breakdown in an auto because the first friend i ever made #after school was leaving my work and therefore my life #9 days into the year. seriously. and i was so happy on 8th because it was my birthday #i don't know im trying hard to think okay this doesn't even affect me it's fine im privileged enough that even my own countrys politics #barely affects me #but just. india is already so behind in everything. if developed nations are doing shit like this then well #it will never get better right like who do we even strive to be #i want to get more into indian politics but my god. it's so horrifying and depressing all the time #like i remember resolving to follow politics closely few years ago and the first news #i read was about some minister talking about how girls skirts lengths IN SCHOOL is the reason boys do sa and boys will be boys etc etc #i know i could just follow business news stuff like that god knows it'll help in my field but it just. doesn't resonate with me doesn't #make me feel anything at all. like i so desperately want to care about ooh stock markets and how to grow your money etc etc #but when i think about being rich enough to invest idle money all i can think is sitting in my own home peacefully #drinking a glass of cold coffee and just being able to breathe freely because me and my sister used to joke in childhood #when dad went thru a coffee v bad for health phase and he wouldn't let us drink it so we would drink it very sneakily #at night when he was asleep or went out for an hour and make absolutely no noise while mixing the sugar. we said that we know #we'll* know we have achieved true freedom and happiness in life when we can peacefully drink cold coffee in the hall and not secretly #in the dead of night in our room #i don't even know what im talking about and my period is late again and nothing is working and my lazer focus #that i had built in the past few weeks is gone because suddenly im like what is the point????#i just don't understand how the fuck humans can fight over stupid fucking things like who is kissing who and who is doing what with their #body instead of focusing on collective issues like our planet is dying so fucking fast and every summer is getting impossibler to survive #i hate that the united states control the UN fuck this world fr man i hate being born in such horrible helpless times #like call me a kid or dumb or whatever but i cannot understand how MILLIONS of people do not #have sympathy for ppl around them and who don't care about the planet at all like how????? how did you grow up????#not trying to boast but this is so natural to me!!! didn't you make save water save earth posters in school!!! didn't anyone

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tardis--dreams · 9 months ago

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Feeling homicidal at work today ♡

#there's been major issues with wordpress for Weeks now and my beloved colleague told IT about it and added me #to the 'task' explicitly writing 'please talk to [my name] if you have any further questions or want to discuss things as i am on vacation'#today i come back to this task reading a lovely comment by that dude who's responsible for solving the problem going #'i think it's best if we make an appointment to discuss this when you're back :)' bitch ill kill you #my boy doesn't even Use wordpress it's not even his fucking problem. he just was nice enough to summarize my complaints #so i added a comment too because i honestly can't work like this and want this to be Fixed asap #and if he wants to talk to [beloved colleague] first it's gonna take another 2 fucking weeks until anyone even considers the problem again #and i have no patience for this left at this point. so of course that bitch calls me when i was marked as 'absent' on teams #(did he fucking do that on purpose?? so he wouldn't actually have to talk to me? also. just Text me you fucking bitch)#and when i come back to it HE was absent so i couldn't call him back and also i won't wait for him to come back online so i can talk to him #because my work hours are Over for this week and he could very well just send me a message or add another comment if he has anything to say #but alas he didn't #i honestly am usually quite patient and understanding when it comes to fixing issues but this has been going on forever #and i wouldn't even say anything if it hadn't been for that stupid ass comment on how he wants to talk to [colleague] first. bitch!#(i just mentioned what the main issue was in my own comment btw. i didn't say anything about hurrying or any of the million #passive aggressive things i WANTED to say. very proud of myself for that ♡#had i been with that dude in person i would have killed him on sight)#god things are gonna be so insufferable when my beloved colleague is gone forever ㅠㅠ #he's the only good thing about this fucking company and I'm sure everything's gonna go down in flames #once he's gone #void screams #work stuff

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digi-diareis · 2 months ago

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"We need to talk" Prank

with the LaDS love interests, implied that the LI's are already in a relationship w you

Xavier

Oh he's pulling out the puppy dog eyes immediately, lower lip jutting out and ready to start crying.

"I'm sorry." "What? Do you even know what you're apologizing for? Also, why are you apologizing?"

This guy is ready to admit to any and all the faults he's made the past week, from cooking without permission, eating her secret stash of snacks, forgetting to feed the cat on time, etc.

"Please don't break up with me, please please please please-" "Xavi, baby, calm down, I'm not breaking up with you"

Anyways, the prank doesn't even last a minute because you break the moment he pulls out the kicked puppy look and he starts begging for you.

You guys end up cuddling the entire day because he won't stop sulking and being worried that you're tired of him so you can't really leave him alone because this is your fault.

We love a loser like Xavi <3

Rafayel

Dramatic ass man and pranks like these are like perfect tiktok material.

"Oh, you are NOT breaking up with me. I don't give you permission to." "I don't recall breaking up having to need permission from both parties." "Well, now you know."

Anyways, you're both just bickering over stupid shit now. You've strayed from the "we need to talk" to now pointing fingers at who's the bigger drama queen between the two of you.

Zayne

Oh sweet summer child, takes you very seriously.

"What is it, love? Did I do something to upset you?"

Oh, you just know how guilty you'll end up feeling when you keep up with the prank. You last a solid 3 sentences before you slowly turn quiet because he's listening so patiently and looks like he's truly reflecting on everything you've said.

"Okay, I'm sorry it was a stupid prank but I can't stand looking at you this guilty. You've been nothing but an absolute sweetheart, I could never ask for more."

Zayne sighs, relieved that it wasn't actually something major.

"Please, try not to do pranks like these again. I love you but the way my heart dropped when you said those words is not healthy."

You give him a big hug and lots of smooches to make it up to him, vowing never to do pranks like these on him again.

Sylus

Oh, you are looking forward to this. There's a power trip of sorts when you remember how much power you actually hold over this man. And this is perfect.

Some say this might be a red flag of yours but you're dating a wholeass criminal big boss so it's not really that big of a deal.

When you start the prank, he raises an eyebrow. Feeling like it might be a prank since he did spoil you and didn't do anything to piss you off recently.

"And what is it this time, sweetheart?"

Okay ngl, I think this prank goes way too far because he would correct / contradict / defend every single reason and excuse you come up with. That it just becomes a wholeass debate of whether you even have an actual reason to be unsatisfied with your relationship.

At the end of it all, you are breathless and out of excuses. So you just glare at him. Sylus simply smirks knowing he won this 'argument'.

"I'll get you someday, look forward to the day that you're begging for me on your knees." "Oh sweetheart, I'd get on my knees for you anytime, if you just asked."

Caleb

You feel like this might be the worst idea you've ever had, knowing full well how possessive Caleb can get but anything for the gram or whatever the kids say.

"Say that again, buttercup? I think I misheard you."

Oh, the way his voice dropped an entire octave got you both nervous and also maybe turned on?

You try to be strong and push through, repeating what you said.

"Sure, we can talk. Did I do something wrong? Did I upset you? Did you find out about the hidden cameras? Is it the new guy at work, did he give you any ideas? I knew I shouldn't have stopped at a few broken ribs-" "CALEB WHAT THE FUCK"

Prank is forgotten, you are now giving him an hour long sermon about hidden cameras and not beating up every man who has any interaction with you.

What you say is definitely passing through the other ear for him, he's just pleased he managed to distract you from the original topic. Its better that you feel responsible for correcting him and being stuck with him rather than you getting sick and tired of him.

Caleb - 1 : You - 0

(i tried my best but i feel like these are very ooc aaaaaaa)

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eraserbread · 2 months ago

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it's just one of those things... your husband, nanami, likes you close.

but, your husband is actually a very sane individual and decides its best not to keep you leashed down. however, it didn't make it easier when you brought up the idea of visiting your family during the spring.

nanami loves your family, but he loves them in his way. he loves them from far, far away—perhaps not even a phone call away, just a yearly birthday card kind of closeness. It's not an energy he wishes to be around.

but, he wants whatever makes you happy, so he lets you go for a week.

a grueling, seven-day week. one filled with work, overtime, stress and anger, all to an empty house to crawl back to. it's okay -- its all he can tell himself as he tucks into bed lonely as hell.

he wills himself to sleep, begging his mind to leave you alone. let you have your space without his voice in your ear. he thinks you want this -- this... disgusting silence.

little did he know, you were five cities away waiting by the phone.

just waiting. hoping at least a good night text would fall your way. you know he's up thinking about you. he has to be.

so, when you get home a week later. you're pissed and touch starved and nanami starved. you had a mind to let him have it, to spew everything you've been pining over while he's been too busy to text or call.

it also doesn't help that you got home four hours before him, having time to cool down and shower off. a part of you wants to call him -- perhaps he's getting drinks or dinner with a friend, but if he didn't contact you for a week, you'd be sure not to contact him. its the only way you know how to teach him.

he arrives home when you're wrapped in your pajamas, glass of wine in your hand, and waiting for this exact moment.

"welcome home, my beautiful wife."

he begins, and it brings a small smile to your face. it's already seeming like he's redeeming himself. "you know I love you."

"really? i don't know... just thought i'd see it more when we're apart," you mumble, chewing on your lip over the rim of your glass. you can't see nanami's expression, but you can feel the quirk in his brow - the tightness in the corner of his lips.

"well, don't be vague. you're mad at me." he knows, yet he's still so calm. you refuse to glance back at him, even when he's taking off his shoes and pulling off his tie. it's something you'd usually help him with. this time, you help yourself to your wine.

"look, a week apart did us both a world of good, I promise you."

"yeah? would your hand agree with you, there?"

he laughs. "not everything's about sex, dear. I'm capable of holding out for a week." another wordless sip of your wine, and he's approaching you. "but, just because I can, doesn't mean I want to go into day eight without it."

it takes every fiber of your soul to say, "'m sorry, nanami. i'm just not in the mood tonight."

if you didn't know him so well, you wouldn't have caught the slight twitch in his brow at the news. however, he takes it well with a small smile on his face. "of course. i'll be in my office."

you sip your wine, cursing him internally for his politeness. he could have anything he wanted from you if he just said it. but, he never will. if its your will to go to bed without giving yourself to him, then so be it. he won't beg at your feet like a child.

but... what if you wanted him to?

you're not keeping track of time anymore, but you feel renewed with a headful of wine and time spent with nothing but thoughts of him. it's genuinely unnerving to you just how in love you are. nanami is so gentle, strong, beautiful and polite. it fucking makes your head spin.

then, you feel like a monster..

the feeling wills one foot in front of the other, all the way to his office door. it's not closed, just cracked. golden desk lamp lighting spills out into the hall in rectangular designs. you find yourself fixating on it in your drunkenness.

the door squeaks as you push it open, and you peek inside to see where he was amongst the organized chaos of books and work papers.

"ken?"

surprisingly, he's not staring right back at you. he's face down over his desk, resting so that you can't see his face—only the back of his head and all his disheveled blonde hair.

when you approach, he stays completely still. worry begins brewing in your chest.

"you know you can come to bed..." you whisper, leaning against the side of his desk. his pretty eyes flutter open at the softness of your voice and touch, quirking a smile.

"didn't think i could lay next to you and keep my hands to myself." he sits up into your hand, shivering as you massage over his scalp. he's like a little orange kitten, nudging your hand with sleepy eyes.

"don't you dare go ghost on me for a week ever again. do you know how obsessed I am with you?"

"i can guess." he chuckles softly, swallowing something down as he looks up at you. "I'm so sorry. just figured you would want your time to yourself."

"that doesn't mean you can't text me."

"then, i'm throwing my hands up and taking my wrongs." there he goes again, not even so much as debating his reasoning; he just wants you. if being the bad guy means he can lay down his gorgeous, tipsy wife, he'll be the worst person in the world.

there's newfound speed behind his actions as he spins his chair around, reaching out to grab you by the hips. it's so fluid and familiar, but it gets your pulse racing, the beat between your thighs mimicking the rhythm of his heart. he's so close to everything -- to you, to all of it.

he kisses your tummy where the hem of your shirt kisses the waistband of your shorts. he's breathing you in, memorizing the sound of you, it seems. your hands find the back of his neck, thumbing circles into the fuzz, there. it's a moment he'd never speak about again, but the ones you cherish the most. he just holds you. like, it's been over five minutes now...

"i'm sorry. i love you so much."

he nods into your stomach, kissing the ticklish sliver of bare skin there. you're dewy with the after-breath of him, but you love the warmth. you want him back when he pulls away.

"i love you." he nods, giving you those eyes when he looks up at you. your heart fucking pummels and rushes through your body, nearly bringing tears to your eyes -- he's so beautiful. "and I love this fabric on you."

"please. please take it off, kento. i love you so fucking... so fucking much." you're breathless already, and all he's done is kiss you. it's a little embarrassing, but neither of you care. tomorrow morning when he kisses you awake, you'll shrug off your demeanor on the alcohol but you weren't that drunk. you just missed him.

"take it off, please. take it off..."

"huh?"

"please, don't fucking tease me i'm so horny right now. nanami kento, i love you so much, please."

"wow, girl." he trails his lips to your waistband, taking it between his teeth shortly. "are you begging for it?"

"fuck my pride, i don't have it with you anymore." you gasp, tightening your fist in his hair to lead him just... down. of course, he's too fucking strong. he doesn't budge. "kentooo-"

he stares up with wide eyes for just a second longer before giving in. he mumbles, "all right, all right." just before yanking your shorts and taking you apart. he drives his chair forward as he slides open your cunt on two fingers, showing you his tongue and diving in. he's done this hundreds of times, but you'll never be used to the feeling.

he knows every inch of your body - how you vibrate when he flicks your clit that one way or dips his tongue the other. he has your orgasm down to a science, but he still takes his time massaging around your labia, kissing the crook between your thighs.

you were already so close, you cuss. "fuck - what ar- what are you doing?!"

"if you would just have some patience," he responds vaguely, holding your thigh and kissing across the inside. with rushing breaths, you try to calm down, swallowing as you watch him. "you were about to finish, I could tell."

"so, you stopped?"

"i know you've been drinking... so you won't last past this round." of course, only he would know that and actually apply logic to it. it hits you dumbfounded. "I'm selfish. just wanted you to cum when I'm inside a'you."

there's absolutely nothing you can say to translate your thoughts, all you can do is breathe out a shaky moan. you were so fucked off of his tongue, right now.

"desk? bedroom? hm?"

you want me to fuck you on my desk or in our bed?

bed sounds better, that way you can pass out immediately afterwards. your mind swims thinking about being back in his arms tonight.

it seems you said that out loud, because he gives you a small smile, then carries you all the way to your bedroom.

he fucks you slow and deep tonight, letting you rest on your back as he held your legs over his waist. you're mewling in reaction, biting down on the inside of your wrist to keep the embarrassment at bay. nanami's being so devious, fucking you like this. he knows it'd take you longer to cum, but he wants that.

he wanted to savor this. you. all of it. all he can do as he stares down at you is admire. he loves the way your breasts rise and fall with each shaky breath. he loves the way your neck dips every time he hits that spot or touches you there.

inside of your warmth is home for him. he just loves you so fucking much that you're the only thing on his mind when he cums alongside you.

he even thinks his left eye drops a tear when he collapses in bed with you. though, he'd never, ever admit it.

then, he kisses the top of your head as you drift away into spinning dreams and whispers:

"god, what did i ever do before you?"

#i get so flustered writing him HELP #wanted to do something kind of fluffy???#.the wife guy!! <3 #.nanami <3 #nanami jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #nanami x you

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kilojulietsierra · 24 days ago

Text

"Oh Sweet Irony "- Dr Jack Abbot x Reader

Summary: You hate doctors, and will do just about anything to avoid seeing one even if you're sick. A fact that your boyfriend Dr. Jack Abbot sometimes finds very annoying. This time though, you're miserable and you cave to his request, "Let me take care of you."

TW: most of my content is considered 18+ content, sick fic, comfort fic, medical inaccuracies, fluff, inappropriate workplace behavior but the PG kind, I wrote this sick and I think Dr. Abbot would def make me feel better just saying...

(Special thank you to the gif creator for the above because DAMN)

~~~~~~

Jack maneuvered his way through the packed waiting room and had to fight to hear you over the phone, "Well, hon, if you feel as bad as you sound you need more than NyQuil." He sidestepped a stoller, "No, it's not helping. I can tell." He made the corner and hugged the wall on his way to the doors, "Just come in and we can get you something that will actually do some good." He waved to the girls behind the glass and mouthed a thanks as he heard the security doors buzz and the lock disengage, "I know… I know… No, I'm not going to let you sit in the waiting room." He gives Bridget and exapserated look as he approaches the hub, "Hon, please, just come down. I'll tell the girls up front you're coming and they'll let you right in." He dropped his bag in his chair and swiped his badge to clock in, "Ok, well… it's either that or stay home tomorrow and I'll come over when I get off work." He nods, "That's what I thought. I'll see you when you get here. Love you."

~~~~

You felt like shit. All week you had been fighting off some sort of bug, the worst of it Monday after you got home from work. You thought that would be the end of it. The stuffy nose, cough, sore throat was really no big deal. NyQuil and DayQuil became your best friends. A week later and that cough just wouldn't quit, your stomach hurt from the constant coughing and chest spasms, you could hardly breathe, barely sleep more than a couple hours now without waking up to a coughing fit so violent you thought you might throw up.

Jack had been busy all week, his schedule and yours just couldn't line up and he'd been stuck late most mornings. You had told him, vaguely, that you didn't feel great but didn't want him to worry. Then he had called you on his way home, and you had not been able to hold back the coughing fit.

So, he had told you to call him after work and let him know how you were feeling, because he knew you wouldn't skip work. Now, here you were sneaking your away around the edge or the PTMC Emergency waiting room fighting back your anxiety and another coughing fit.

You hesitated a little the closer you got to the doors but one of the women at the admissions desk behind the glass saw you and waved. You chewed your lip and stepped a little closer with a careful smile. She waved you on through and you heard the buzz and clunk of the security doors. You can feel the burn of the glares and the muttering behind you as you pulled the heavy door open and stepped through.

Bridget saw you almost immediately and meets you halfway for a hug, "Hey sweetie."

You gave her a smile and a half step back, "Oh, don't hug me, I'm gross."

"Oh please, come here." She gave you a hug and then looked you over, "We just got a call for a code coming in, so he might be a minute okay."

"You guys are busy, I should just go."

"Not a chance." She tugged you towards the hub, "You just sit right here and I'll get you some water."

You sit in one of the office chairs and slouch back into it trying to take up as little space as possible. Bridget came backi a moment later with a bottle of water and a North Face jacket you recognized as one of Jacks. The ED was always chilly and you were grateful for the warmth and familiar scent as you shrugged into the slightly too big jacket.

Outside you hear the sirens as the ambulance arrives and Jack appears out of nowhere in full work mode.

You hated doctors, but this one you think, this one you certainly didn't mind.

From your chair behind the counter you watched as he quick stepped down the hall and as terrible as felt and as much as you didn't want to be here, it was kind of fun to see that side of him. The confident, collected and in charge Dr. Jack Abbot was the exception.

Jack sees you on his way by and even in the midst of chaos while calling our orders he takes half a second to catch your eye and give you just a hint of a smile without missing a beat.

~~~~~~

"Hey sweetheart," Jack says softly as he approaches and squats down in front of you, "C'mere." He pulls the chair closer so he can take a good look at you. He hasn't seen you all week and he feels like shit because you look miserable. He gives your leg a squeeze as he stands, ignoring the way his knees catch and pop, "Bridget, can you get a,"

"Six is all set up for you."

Jack gives her smile and a nod as he takes your elbow to help you stand up. While one hand never leaves your elbow he grabs a tablet with the other and guides you into the room.

"Don't forget to leave that door open Dr. Abbot!" Bridget teases from behin.

You turn to give her a look and then Jack, "Is there an HR complaint or something I should know about?"

Bridget snorts behind you as Jack just gives you both a side eye. He pinches your side and nudges you to keep walking, "Policy. No male doctors alone in rooms with female patients."

"Lame, next you're going to tell me we're not allowed to sneak off to have a quickie int the on call room like on Greys Anatomy."

Bridget laughs louder behind you and Jack just gives you a look.

You give him a wink and a little smile but the urge to laugh triggers another coughing fit and reminds you that you're not just here to say hi.

~~~~~~

In the exam room he helps you out of your jacket and up to sit on the bed. "I didn't check in or anything."

Abbot leaned against the counter, "Had Bridget sign you in." He gave you a soft smile as he watched you try not to fidget. He pulled up your patient file and had to bite the inside of his cheek because there was something about putting his own name in as your emergency contact that still got him. More and more he also found himself thinking about seeing his last name there instead of yours. He also couldn't wait to get you on his TRICARE because your employers health insurance fucking sucks. "You okay if I do everything myself?"

When you nod he can see that you're still anxious.

He puts in your info. He knows your personal information, height and weight, your medical history, he knows your anxiety meds dosage and all. "Your period started last Sunday right?" He smirks at you when you still blush but nod. He checks the box next to sexually active, he entertained the thought of asking you just to see you blush a little more, then types in 'partner vasectomy' in the line by birth control method.

Once everything was filled in he set the tablet down and washes his hands in the sink. He forgoes the gloves because it's you. Part of him wants to be able to feel you, part of him knows his touch will feel better for you than the latex.

He feels a little weird taking your temperature and bp because holy shit it has been a long time since he hasn't had a nurse to do the initial work up. Jack rests the back of his fingers against your forehead while he waits for a temp. "Little high." He says softly, long before the thermometer gave him a read out and showed he was correct. Your temperature is a little high. "Okay so far?" He asks as he puts the machine away and catches your eye. His fingers stroking up and down your forearm.

You nod, "You'd make a good nurse." You tease and then cover your mouth as another chest racking cough takes over.

The quip makes him crack a grin as he rubs your back through the coughing fit. "I'm going to listen to your lungs okay?" He waits for your nod before he pulls his stethoscope down and catches the way your eyes track the routine action and the way his forearms flex with the movement. "Ok, sit up straight for me and take a couple deep breaths." He goes through the motions, front and back, listening to your lungs and frowing. He rubs your back while he's still standing close and whispers, "Good girl." He drapes his stethoscope around his neck again as you cough and fight through a shuddery breath. "You take anything in the last few hours?"

"No," You shake your head, "Had a feeling you were going to make me come in."

"I won't make you do anything hon, you know that."

"You know what I mean." You're so tired that the urge to lean into him.

He sees it and nods, give you another smile, "I'm going to take a look at your throat okay?" When he grabs the scope and a tongue depressor he steps up in front of you and pauses. The two of you lock eyes for a second and he shakes his head, "Don't make me say it."

You bite your lip and try not to laugh because you know it'll just make you cough. "Make you say what Dr. Abbot?" You know Jack is unflappable, often stoic wilth a killer poker face, and your dislike for doctors aside, you enjoy that you can make this one blush just that little bit.

Jack never does say it, but the look he gives you says plenty. So does the way he smooths the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip when he's done. He sets the tools down on the tray, "Head up for me, just going to feel right here." The way he holds your neck, feels for swelling, is so clinical and second nature that he wouldn't think anything of it if he hadn't seen the way your eyes flickered. So, sue him if his touch lingered a little, or if he traced the line of your throat with his thumb just to see those pretty eyes flutter one more time.

He know he shouldn't be standing between your legs like he is, and he sure as hell shouldn't set his hand on your thigh when he says, "I'm going to call for a chest x-ray."

"What? Why?" Your panic rises, the anxiety back in full force.

The hand on your leg squeezes and then he slowly begins to stroke his knuckles over the top of your thigh in a soothing, repetitive motion. "You're okay, just want to be safe. Your lungs sound like trash and I just want to rule out pneumonia." He appreciates the ability to be straighforward and say things more bluntly than normal. He also appreciates that you trust him enough to calm down quickly. "I'll set you up with a nebulizer while you wait, going to help you breathe a little easier. I'm going to pull some labs too." He reiterates, "Just to be safe."

You try not to fidget while he preps the needle and the blood tubes.

"You're okay hon, it's just one poke. I'm good at this promise." He gives you and wink. "You want me to hold your hand?"

You scoff which turns into a cough, "Don't you need both hands?"

Jack shrugs, looks you in the eye, "I can do it with one."

"Please don't."

With another wink he sets your arm where he needs it, "Quick and easy I promise." Each touch is long and slow, smooth and lingering. He uses every ounce of practice and skill he possesses to make it as painless as possible for you. "There you go." He strokes the sting of the needle away with his thumb until you finally look his way again.

Brdget knocks and pokes her head in, "Respiratory is here."

Jack nods and looks back to you, "Big, deep breaths on that until radiology comes down with the portable, okay?" He tips your chin up for a kiss, but you hesitated.

"I'm gross."

"Don't give a shit." He gives you a quick kiss and strokes his thumb over your brow. "I'll be back to check on you soon as I can." One more kiss, to your forehead this time and then he's on his way out of the room. As he passes he gives Bridget a look.

"What?" She plays along, tries not to smirk, "I didn't see anything."

Once Jack is out of the room Bridget helped you get comfy on the bed with a blanket fresh out of the warmer.

"You know, I don't understand why the patient satisfaction is so low around here."

"Sweetie, the only satisfaction that man gives two shits about, is yours."

After a beat you both break into a laugh which triggers another coughing fit. Taking that as their cue RT came in to set you up on the nebulizer. Then all you could do was wait.

After that Jack got busy again and you tried to tamp down the anxiety as the minutes dragged on,as you finished the nebulizer treatment, as radiology came and went. There was little worse in your opinion than laying alone in a hospital bed, but Jack had been right the nebulizer had helped your breathing and you were coughing less.

The longer you were in there the more you actually began to wonder about those terrible patient satisfaction scores everyone was always complaining about because every single person you had come into contact with that night had seemed to go above and beyond. The rad tech, the respiratory tech, every single nurse that stopped in to check on you. You were beginning to wonder if there wasn't some sort of big, red alert by your name that said; "ABBOT"S GIRLFRIEND DON'T FUCK IT UP".

A soft knock at the door startled you out of your thoughts and you sit up a little more as Jack comes in.

"How ya feelin'?"

"Ready to go home."

"I know hon." He props a him on the edge of your bed and rubs your leg through the blanket, "Rads and your bloodwork came back. Bronchitis. Just a little infection in your bronchial tubes, right here," He gestures to the general area on his own chest, "Usually takes care of itself if you take it easy."

You nod, "Which… I did not do."

He gives your calf a squeeze and his lips tick up in a smirk, "No, you did not. Which is why I'm sending you home with a goodie bag full of meds which you will take until they're gone. And, when I say home, I mean my house. Ellis is writing you up a doctors order right now to send to your boss."

"Jack…"

Completely unphased he continues, "While you're at my place for the next few days you will do as little as possible. Am I clear?"

You looked up at him, "Is this the part where I'm supposed to say yes sir and salute?"

Jack relaxes as soon as the words are out of your mouth. He shakes his head slightly and smooths his hand over your leg again, "Sorry." He meets your gaze and softens his expression, "Just promise me you'll take it easy. Let me take care of you."

With a slight cough you reached out for his hand, and smiled as he took it, stroked his thumb over the back of your knuckles. "I'm willing to bet you're not the greatest patient either, so you can't give me that much shit."

That gets him to smile, "Ready to go home?"

"Yes please."

Jack helps you sit up and slide out of the hospital bed, then helps you back into his jacket. "Ok, go home, my place," he emphasizes, "Take a good hot shower, take your meds and go to bed." He goes to guide you out of the room, but you tug him to a stop. "What's wrong?"

You bit your lip, "Thank you." Your voice was soft and a little apologetic.

For just a minute there was no hint of Dr. Abbot, he was just your boyfriend Jack. "C'mere." He pulled you in close and wrapped you in a hug, pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He chuckled, pressed another kiss to your temple and whispered, "See, coming to the doctor isn't so bad is it?"

You smile besides yourself and lean into him, "Depends on the doctor."

He walked you out to the hub and one of the nurses caught him right away, "We have a shooting victim eight minutes out."

Just like that Dr Abbot was back. "Ok set up trauma one, someone call OR give them a heads up." He turned back to you and softened, "I'll see you at home." Even in the middle of his ED, trauma en route, Jack gave you a smile and a quick kiss. "Go get some rest."

You nodded and watched as he turned to get back to work. Then with a smile of your own you turned to Bridget, "So, when do I get to fill out that patient satisfaction survey?"

~~~~

#the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt fanfic #dr jack abbot #dr jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x you #dr jack abbott #dr jack abbott x reader

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pretentious-blonde · 3 months ago

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jealous much?

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: steve may not be the jealous type, but when he sees someone else eyeing his girl, he’s more than happy to remind you exactly who takes care of you the best

warnings: 18+ this is smut, filth with feelings, depictions of sex, p in v, fingering, manhandling, steve being a cocky little shit, lots and lots of aftercare because how could i not???

a/n: to the anon(s) that told me they wanted steve to be a bit harsher, i gotchu <3 pt. 6 but can be read as a standalone!!

series masterlist

Steve’s bedroom was always comfortably cluttered—movie tickets scattered on the nightstand, a lone shirt draped over the desk chair, and a rumpled blanket that smelled faintly of his cologne. You loved it here. Loved being with him here. The two of you were sprawled across his bed, legs tangled, currently discussing the goings-on with the people in Hawkins.

He always had a soft spot for scandal, unable to shake his love for idle gossip. He kept up with every whisper in the school hallways—a habit that only worsened once he gained access to the town’s personal archive of movie choices.

Dangerous information for him to have, truly.

“You should’ve seen what Keith has been checking out lately,” he said, propping himself up on his elbow, eyes bright. “Nothing but straight rom-coms. He thinks we don’t notice—‘cause, y’know, he does it on his own time—but Rob went snooping through the store’s computer system.”

“No way. Keith?” You snorted. “I thought he was into those art-house horror flicks or those silent German ones.”

“Right?” Steve agreed with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “We’re putting money on him having a girlfriend. That would explain why he’s been giving us both more hours lately—guy’s gotta prioritise his love-life, you know?”

“Huh,” you mused, nudging his knee with yours. “So he finally snagged a girl?”

“That’s the theory,” he affirmed, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Now we just gotta figure out who it is. Or corner him into telling us.”

You giggled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Well, I’m sure that won’t take long. Keith has never been good at subtlety.”

“Kinda jealous he’s the one who arranges the schedule, though.” He hummed, shifting closer until you could feel the warmth of his breath on your hair. “Means I gotta argue with him if I want a full weekend off.”

“You poor thing,” you teased, tapping his chest. “I can always come hang out if you get stuck working. Keep you company.”

He brightened. “Yeah?”

“Totally,” you said smiling. “I don’t mind. I'm very entertaining.”

“Well, does that mean when I get a weekday off, I can come crash your work?” he asked, waggling his brows. “I look great in a tie.”

You eyed him skeptically, but there was no denying he’d look downright mouthwatering in a suit. All done up, weaving through your office like he owned the place—it made your insides curl.

He’d probably climb the ladder faster than you, effortlessly charming his way to the top. It was unfair how charismatic he could be, even without trying.

“I wish you could.” You groan, getting your mind out of the gutter. “It’d make the day go so much faster.”

"I’d be the perfect intern," he agreed, "I could grab the coffee for a change—plus,” a playful smile tugs at his lips as he gazes down at you, “I already know exactly how you like it."

You laughed, then shrugged. “Actually, you wouldn’t have to run for coffee now. We got a new hire last week—Ryan, I think his name is? He’s younger, maybe by a year or so, but super eager. I’ve been showing him around, finally getting some of the stress off my plate.”

His expression changed with a touch of curiosity or perhaps just a pang of protectiveness—but it settled quickly into genuine affection. He reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face.

“You looking out for him, angel?”

“Yeah—well, I mean—” A flush crept up your cheeks. “I would’ve liked if someone had done that for me when I started, you know? Don’t want him to feel overwhelmed by everything.”

He almost melted as those words left your lips, loving the flustered look on your face when he praised you.

God, you’re too sweet for your own good sometimes.

You snuggled closer and let out a yawn, feeling his arm tighten around you in a gentle hug as you hid your face in his chest.

“Alright,” he said, clearing his throat as he glanced at the clock on his desk. “Come on sleepyhead. You’ve got an early morning, gotta get some rest."

You groaned dramatically. “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“Hey,” he offered with a warm smile, “want me to drive you? I’ve got tomorrow off so it’s really no trouble.”

“Honestly, it’s fine.” You shook your head tiredly. “Have a lie-in for once, you deserve it. Besides, you’re picking me up after work anyway, right?”

A lazy, content grin spread across his face.

“Yeah, yeah. Alright,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you—slow and sweet. “Come on, sweetheart. Bedtime.”

Steve insisted on seeing you off that morning, even when you tried to do the nice thing and let him sleep in.

He woke up with you anyway. It baffled you how he could sleep through his own alarm but miraculously rise at the first buzz of yours. Even when you tried to turn it off and sneakily creep around his room without rousing him, your efforts were futile.

He followed you downstairs and sipped the coffee he brewed for you both at the kitchen counter, watching while you tugged on your office blazer, making sure your hair was just right in the reflection of the hall mirror.

It made him grin stupidly, watching you hustle around in your formal attire—his career girl.

He couldn��t help himself. He’d pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead at his doorstep before you left, telling you to “knock ‘em dead.” Which earned him a huff from you.

He was far too corny in the morning for your liking.

Only when your car was out of sight did he head back inside, now all glum that he had to entertain himself for the rest of the day.

He spent his time alone doing errands—laundry, a quick trip to the grocery store, all while counting down the hours till he could swing by your office.

It wasn’t pathetic, but he’d be the first to admit he was maybe a little too eager. Then again, he’d found his person, and he figured it wasn’t a crime to want every spare minute with you.

When the time finally came, he pulled up outside the Hawkins Post, scanning the pavement for your familiar silhouette.

He spotted you laughing with someone—the new hire, must be, he deduced as he took in the guy’s slightly younger appearance and the way he stood just a bit too close to you for his liking. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as he examined him further.

Great. Of course he’s hot.

You glanced up just then, beaming at the sight of the familiar BMW. After a quick word to your coworker—who, he noted—looked decidedly unhappy as he caught Steve’s eye.

You bounded over to the passenger seat as he gave the guy a little wave, more smug than polite, and felt a twist of satisfaction when the guy’s scowl deepened.

You slid into the seat, barely getting the door shut before he leaned in over the console to kiss you—deep and warm, with a hint of urgency that made your pulse skip. You let out a surprised hum but quickly relaxed into it, hand coming up to rest on his cheek.

“What was that for?” You pulled back, blinking at him.

He shrugged, eyes flicking past you to the figure still hovering on the pavement.

“Nothing,” he said, casual as can be. “Just missed you, that’s all.”

He caught your colleague staring and resisted the urge to smirk openly.

Gotcha.

You huffed a playful laugh, still a little breathless. “Well, I’m not complaining.”

“Ready to go?” Steve asked, turning the key in the ignition. You nodded, and he eased the car into the street. “Oh—there are M&Ms in the glove box. Grabbed 'em for you.” He added, remembering picking them up at the store earlier. Knowing you’d appreciate it.

“Ugh, you’re the best, you know that?” you said, popping open the compartment and grabbing the bag, eagerly tearing through the plastic.

He glanced sideways, a small, satisfied grin tugging at his lips. Holding out his hand, he waited as you handed him a few—only fair, after all.

Because, yeah, he is the best.

Damn right.

And he’s glad you think so too.

Dinner had wrapped up at your flat, the remnants of takeaway containers still on the coffee table, but neither of you paid them much mind. You were curled up with him on the couch, your legs draped over his lap as you recounted every last detail of your day—he hung onto each word like it was the most important news in the world.

Well, more important to him than the news you printed, anyway.

“And,” you said, voice cracking with excitement, “they’re finally letting me write my own story! The whole thing, just me.”

His grin was instant, radiant enough to outshine the lamp in the corner. Pure happiness poured from him as he watched you speak, your joy lighting up the room.

There wasn’t a trace of resentment—just pride, just excitement, just you.

He was every bit as thrilled as you were, because he knew how hard you’d worked to get here. And now, seeing it all finally pay off, he couldn’t have been prouder of you.

“That’s incredible, honey,” he said truthfully. “Seriously, can’t wait to read it. What’s it gonna be about?”

You shrugged, flustered and thrilled all at once. “I have so many ideas—I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well, whatever you choose, I’m first in line for a sneak peek.” He draped an arm behind you on the couch, giving you a playful nudge. “You gonna let me see the first draft?”

“Nope.” You snorted. “You have to wait until it’s printed, just like everyone else. No boyfriend privileges here.”

“What?” He let out a mock-offended huff. “I’m supposed to wait for the issue like the rest of town? Come on you gotta give me, like, a preview or something.”

“Alright, alright,” you conceded, stifling a laugh at his dramatic pout. “Let me get changed first, and then maybe we can brainstorm together, okay?”

He leaned back, playful grin returning. “But I like the corporate look.”

“Yeah, well, now you get the pajama look,” you countered, sticking your tongue out as you got up.

He watched you walk off, fondness swelling in his chest. He’d never get tired of that view—hair done up from a day at the office, blouse slightly rumpled from a long day’s work.

You disappeared into your bedroom, leaving him alone on the couch. He let out a contented sigh, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

With a lazy flick of the remote, he turned up the volume on the TV, barely sparing it a glance. What you wore didn’t matter to him—truth be told, he loved you just as much in cosy attire as in your best dressed-up look.

Comfort suited you, and therefore suited him just fine.

Not even a minute after your departure, the phone rang—a jarring, tinny sound that made him glance over his shoulder. It only rang twice before he heard your cheerful voice answer in the bedroom.

His ears perked up. He couldn’t help it—he was nosey.

Sue him.

Muting the TV, he angled his head to listen, as your muffled giggle drifted through the space.

“No, seriously, don’t worry about it,” you said. “He doesn’t need it until Monday—promise.”

He rose from the couch, moving quietly toward your slightly ajar door. He caught a glimpse of you standing by your chest of drawers, one hand on your hip, the other clutching the receiver. He couldn’t quite make out every expression with your back turned, but your tone was friendly, warm, comfortable.

An unwelcome pang of jealousy flared in his chest, though he quickly reminded himself that you love him, you’ve talked about this, he trusts you.

Still, he couldn’t resist sidling closer.

“Yeah, don’t listen to what he said,” you continued, your tone soothing. “He’s all talk, trust me.”

He inched into the room, sliding his arms around your waist from behind and nuzzling his face against your neck. Your skin was still warm and you let out a tiny squeak of surprise, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into him.

He inched down to whisper in your free ear, low and soft.

“Who is it?”

Turning to him, you quickly covered the receiver with your palm. “Ryan,” you mouthed.

Ryan. Right. Great.

He rolled his eyes a little, then brushed a slow kiss on the side of your neck.

“Call him tomorrow, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice playful but filled with an undercurrent of impatience.

You already spent the whole day with the guy, and now he's calling you? Even when he saw him pick you up? It didn’t take a genius to figure out you had other plans, and the thought nudged at him uncomfortably.

You shook your head in exasperation, though you were smiling. He continued to nuzzle you, pressing you gently forward until your back arched at the contact.

“Leave work at the door,” he teased, fingers pressing slightly into your waist.

You exhaled a soft laugh and brought the phone back to your ear. “Hey, Ryan? I’ll, uh, I’ll just swing by the office a bit earlier tomorrow if you need anything else, okay? … Yeah, no worries, meet you outside. Bye.”

You placed the handset back in the cradle and turned fully to face your boyfriend, still in your work clothes, not yet changed.

Crossing your arms, you fixed him with a look, and he couldn’t help but smirk, already anticipating the playful scolding coming his way. But all he could focus on was you—standing there in your blouse and slacks, looking far too damn sweet for him to take even the slightest bit seriously.

“Feeling needy, huh?” you asked, tilting your head.

He let out an incredulous huff, the corner of his mouth tugging upward.

“What? Couldn’t he have waited till tomorrow? I mean… come on. He could have talked to you anytime today.”

You shrugged. “I did tell him he could call if he had any questions.”

He snorted, stepping closer, fingers trailing gently along your waist.

“Questions, huh?”

“Questions,” you confirmed, heart skipping a beat at the intent look in his eyes.

His touch lingered, a tiny spark of possessiveness flickering behind his eyes. Then the realisation seemed to strike. You saw it—the slight tightening of his jaw, the faint furrow between his brows. It made you bite your cheek to stop from letting a giggle slip.

“Wait a second,” you said, holding back a smile. “Steve, are you… are you jealous?”

“What? No.” He shifted, clearing his throat. “Absolutely not.”

“You so are,” you pressed, delighting in the way his nose scrunched ever so slightly.

“Sweetheart,” he warned, voice dipping lower, “I’m not.”

You only giggled, emboldened by the rosy flush creeping into his cheeks, wanting to push his buttons just a little.

“Aw, you think I’d ever pick him over you?”

Something sparked in his eyes, a confident glint that made your stomach flutter.

“Oh, honey,” he purred, “I know you wouldn’t pick him over me.”

You couldn’t resist teasing him one step further.

“Oh, well…” you sighed, letting the words trail with a mischievous lilt, “I’m not quite sure. I mean, he knows my coffee order too, you know.”

The air shifted—his hand slid up your torso in one smooth motion, fingertips barely brushing the exposed skin of your collarbone before settling at the base of your throat.

His palm rested there, thumb gently grazing your quickening heartbeat as he angled your chin up to face him.

“You wanna finish that thought, sweetheart?” he murmured, voice low enough to send a tremor through you.

You swallowed, a sudden dryness in your throat. He smirked, clearly relishing your hesitation.

“Didn’t think so,” he whispered, brushing his lips fleetingly against the corner of your mouth before pulling back.

Your heart pounded, body already hyper-aware of each place he touched you. You wondered if he could feel the way your pulse had sped up beneath his hand—because from the triumphant gleam in his eye, it was clear he knew precisely what kind of effect he had on you.

When his fingers trailed beneath your collar again, you shivered, and the reaction only seemed to spur him on.

“Think I’m jealous, baby?” His mouth hovered just above yours, teasing, refusing to close the distance.

When you leaned in, he pushed back just enough to make you wait, to make you listen.

"Need me to show you how well I take care of you?” His other palm slid against your lower back, holding you flush against him. “Can’t have you forgetting, can we?"

The way he was looking at you, like he dared you to argue.

His eyes were locked on yours, hungry and unapologetically smug, as he backed you against the counter. Waiting for the subtle nod of your head to tell him to continue.

His fingers fiddled with the button of your trousers, and you could practically feel his heart racing in sync with your own.

“H-haven’t forgotten,” you managed to stutter out, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

He cocked a brow as he paused his motions, leaning in until his breath fanned over your lips.

“You sure? The way you were talking—almost like you need a reminder.” A slow, dangerous smile tugged at his mouth. “And you know how much I love proving my point.”

You swallowed hard. You did know—Steve was stubborn as hell, and once he made up his mind, there was no talking him down.

You’d learned that the very first time you hung out with him—he spent a whole hour building you that damned bookshelf that was wedged in the corner of your living room, refusing to even let you help him carry it up the stairs. All in an effort to prove himself to you.

And by the way he was acting, he was determined to prove himself again.

“Say the word, baby, and I’ll stop.” He tells you earnestly, as his brown eyes search your face.

He would stop in an instant if you told him to, but the way you're looking at him tells him you won’t. Something tells him that you want him to show you how good he can make you feel.

And Steve?

Well, Steve never backed down from a challenge.

You let out a shaky exhale, no response forming except the pleading expression you're giving him. A small, triumphant noise rumbled in his throat. Your slacks and underwear hit the floor, and in one swift motion, he coaxed you against the side of the counter, broad hands splaying over your hips.

He brushed his hand against you slowly, cautiously, fingers gliding against your core and making your knees threaten to buckle.

“Already?” His tone was low, teasing, right at your ear as his fingers entered you with a lewd, wet sound. “You’re shaking, baby. Maybe I have been neglecting you.”

“Please,” you whimpered after a moment, overwhelmed by how slow and teasing he was moving—he wasn’t normally quite so unhurried with the foreplay.

Steve usually never made you beg for anything.

He let out a soft chuckle, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to the side of your neck. Clearly, he was enjoying this—relishing the way your hands pawed at his shoulders, desperate, pleading for more. For him to stop playing and just give in.

“Shhh, I’ll take care of you, alright?” His fingers moved with agonising precision. “So sensitive—so sweet for me”

Your breathing stuttered; the sensations bloomed hot and electric with every brush of his fingers. But his mouth kept going, sliding into that cocky territory he owned so well.

“Bet he wouldn’t even know where to start with you,” he murmured, voice laced with pride. "Wouldn’t even know how fucking beautiful you sound when you—" his thumb pressed hard against your clit, dragging a desperate, wrecked moan from your lips, “—fuck yourself on my fingers.”

You could tell he was on a roll, completely caught up in the moment, but you mustered the courage to speak anyway.

Feeling bold, you forced a small smirk, even as your body threatened to betray you. You’d never seen him this pent up before—this utterly consumed—and the sheer thrill of it sent a sharp, electric spark through you.

Curiosity burned—just how far could you push him?

“O-oh, I don’t know—” you managed to choke out, stepping on dangerous territory. “He’s a keen learner…”

So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?

Everything stopped—his fingers, his breath, the push of his body against yours. He stilled, letting a harsh exhale flare his nostrils.

Then a dark, knowing laugh bubbled out of him as he lifted his head to look at you—really look at you. You caught a glimpse of his determined face, before all composure snapped.

Now he really had something to prove.

“Fuck, angel,” he groaned, voice taking on a frustrated edge. “You just don’t know when to stop—do you?”

Before you could react, he flipped you around and pushed your hips down against the dresser with a firm grip. The wood pressed into your stomach, your palms splayed on either side as he molded himself to your back.

He cupped your jaw from behind and you gasped at the harshness of his grip, every nerve alive. His teeth found your shoulder, biting just enough to blur the line between pleasure and pain.

You let out a sharp cry, and he swallowed it with a low groan. Running his tongue against the dull ache as a gentle apology.

“One of these days," he muttered, "that smart mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble—” you could feel his breath, hot and ragged, “—lucky for you, I’m the one who gets to teach it a lesson.”

His words send shivers across your skin and you tried to twist in his grip.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he chided as you tried to squirm, pressing against you back as he stilled your movements. “Stay.”

He placed one strong palm between your shoulder blades, guiding you lower, til your chest made contact with the wooden surface. Keeping you where he wanted you.

He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t forcing—just holding you there, making sure you felt him, making sure you knew exactly how this was going to go.

Your legs stumbled as you adjusted to the position, and he just laughed, sliding his fingers inside you once more, coaxing the most desperate little noises from your lips.

“Say my name, angel,” he demanded, that infuriating confidence dripping from every syllable.

“S-Steve,” you whimpered, voice barely recognisable to your own ears.

“Good,” he praised, dipping his head to kiss along your shoulder, fingers hitting that sweet spot inside that he knew drives you wild. “Want it to be the only thing in your head, okay?”

You moaned out his name once more, and he hummed with approval.

“That’s right." He cooed. "You're a fast learner, baby.”

He pulled away momentarily and you whined at the loss of contact, until you heard the metallic rasp of his zipper. He was right back against you, pressing his length along you with a low moan.

"You feel that?" he murmured, voice thick with need as he pressed against you, rolling his hips in a slow, deliberate grind. The friction sent sparks through your core, pulling a soft gasp from your lips. His grip tightened, fingers digging in just enough to make you shiver. "You're soaked, sweetheart."

He didn’t want to wait—couldn’t wait. He needed to prove it to you, needed you to understand just how much he could give you. Just how much he deserved you.

You tried to speak, but your voice came out ragged. Then, mercifully, he pushed inside—slow enough to let you feel every inch. The stretch pulled a drawn-out, trembling whine from your chest.

“Ah, fuck—.” His own voice cracked, hips snapping forward as though he couldn’t possibly wait another second. “That’s it—see how good that feels?—pussy was made for me. Ain't that right, angel?”

You only mewled in response as he settled into a driving rhythm, each thrust pushing you into the surface, bullying his cock deeper and deeper inside.

He wrapped a hand against the back of your neck, keeping you pinned where he could use you, pressing hot kisses along your shoulders when you cried out. It was music to his ears as he continued his relentless pace.

Normally he was gentler, but now, he was done holding back. The litany pouring from his mouth was shameless, full of desire and unfiltered possessiveness.

“Should’ve kept him on that damn phone—” he rasped against your neck, each word punctuated by a thrust. “Should’ve made him listen to how you sound—‘cause that’s the closest he’s ever gonna get to having you like this—”

Your walls tightened around him as his words poured over you, and he noticed—of course he noticed. He drank in every tremor, every flutter of your pussy, letting out a breathless laugh tinged with disbelief as he felt you squeeze him deeper at his teasing remarks.

"You like that?—really?" He let out an amused chuckle at the new information. “Shit—never knew how filthy you were, baby.”

The way you gripped his length, pulling him deeper, the sinful sounds spilling from your lips—he knew he was giving you both. Worship and destruction.

And fuck, you loved it.

You dragged your nails across the dresser’s surface, searching for an anchor in the storm of sensation. His hand slid over yours, fingers lacing as he drove into you, relentless.

“Too fucking bad he’s never gonna see how pretty you look when you're fucked dumb,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss the side of your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "That's just for me."

You felt your composure slipping, your body teetering on the edge. Your head rolled to the side, a broken string of words escaping.

“Steve, please—” spilled from your lips, but you weren’t even sure what you were begging for at this point.

He tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling you upright just enough so he could whisper directly into your ear. The pain was delicious as you arched against him, lungs gasping for air as he continued to spill every dirty thought he had.

"It's alright sweetheart—I’ll give you what you need. Just look at you—can’t even think straight." A soft, desperate moan tore from your throat as his mouth continued to run. "Just falling apart on my cock, letting me fuck every last thought out of that pretty head of yours."

His pace quickened, your body overwhelmed with the slide of him inside your walls, the heat of his skin, the possessive timbre in every word he rasped into your ear.

"But you know what you will remember?" he purred, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. "Every time you see him, you’ll remember how I had you bent in half, screaming my name—not his." He let you fall back onto the dresser, firm grip returning to your shoulder. "I want this burned into you, baby. So every fucking time you even look at him, all you can think about is me stretching you open—ruining you for anyone else."

Fuck, you knew Steve was loose-lipped in bed, but this was something else entirely.

He wasn’t making love to you—he was fucking you. Hard. Rough. Saying whatever filthy thing came to mind without a second thought.

You wished you could throw back a sly quip, but at this pace? You could barely breathe, let alone speak.

Not that it would matter—he wouldn’t give you the chance.

Your moans rose in pitch, matching the mounting tension in your core, and he groaned, voice unraveling into something so heady it almost vibrated through you.

"I—fuck—I want you feeling me tomorrow, sweetheart—want every step you take to remind you exactly what’s waiting for you when you come home." He thrust sharply, greeted with the cry that tore from your lips. "‘Cause, baby, I’ve got no problem bending you over like this again and again—’til the lesson sticks—"

That final promise was all you needed—you came hard, a wave of ecstasy rolling through you as your body clenched around him. Your cry echoed in the small space, and you felt his grip falter as he groaned your name, riding the crest of your climax.

“Fuck, baby—that’s it,” he choked out, thrusts turning erratic. “So good for me, taking me so—”

Then he followed you over the edge, hips snapping one last time before his body seized. You felt his breath come in ragged pants against your neck, his chest pressed to your back. Every muscle in him went taut, then slack, as he let out a deep, guttural moan of satisfaction.

Your name fell from his lips in a trembling exhale, and for a moment, neither of you moved—both lost in the aftermath, hearts hammering in sync.

He held you for a beat longer, both of you still catching your breath. Your body trembled against the wood, and as he finally pulled out, he stayed close—almost reluctant to let you go.

But as he pulled away brushing a knuckle over your spine, guilt crept into his eyes the moment he took in your shaky form.

“Ah—shit” he murmured, voice low. “Hey, sweetheart, you with me?”

You nodded weakly, turning your head and giving him the smallest smile of reassurance, but he still frowned in concern. Maybe he'd gone overboard.

“Yeah… all right. Can you stand?”

“I—I think so,” you managed breathily.

“Okay,” he whispered, guiding you upright with one gentle arm around your waist. Once he was sure you weren’t going to topple over, he bent down to scoop up your trousers and set them aside. You’d probably complain if they got creased—more creased than they were. Though, that wasn’t his number one priority right now.

You noticed the way his forehead furrowed in worry as he led you to the bed, helping you settle against the duvet. He slid in behind you, propping himself against the headboard so you could rest in his lap.

Your hands trembled a bit from aftershocks—adrenaline still coursing through your veins. He felt it, too, and his anxious expression only deepened.

He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

“Hey, angel?” His voice was gentle, coaxing, as he sought your eyes. “Can you look at me for a sec?”

You tilted your head back to meet his worried gaze, your cheeks still flushed and eyes glazed with the rush of it all. His own eyes flickered over your messy hair, the light smudges of your makeup, and your rumpled work shirt. Guilt pinched at his features.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” His words tumbled out in a rush. “I’m sorry if I got carried away. I just—just got caught up in everything, and you—”

You let out a soft chuckle, lifting a hand to cover his mouth gently.

God, he’s adorable when he’s fussing over you.

“Steve,” you said softly, watching him go silent. “You didn’t hurt me. I promise.”

He still looked unconvinced. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I'm not,” you replied, smoothing your thumb over the swell of his bottom lip. “I’m really, really good. Better than good.”

He cupped your face gently, thumb brushing soft circles into your cheek, eyes flicking between yours as if searching for any sign of discomfort.

“Didn’t mean to be so rough,” he murmured, voice laced with concern. "Should've been more gentle with you, angel."

You were still quivering in his lap, body still sensitive. He was torn between holding you tighter against him, or letting you breathe.

You leaned forward after sensing his hesitation, brushing a soft kiss to his jaw, you make the decision for him.

“I loved it." You tell him truthfully. "I love you.”

He exhaled a shaky breath, hands finding your hips and holding you there. His warmth seeped into you through the fabric of your rumpled work shirt.

You loved him.

No matter how many times the words left your lips, it still made his chest ache.

"Love you too," he murmurs, eyes avoiding yours as they dart to his lap. "Just... don't want you thinking I, like, lost control or something." He looks up at you sheepishly. "Never want to hurt you."

“I know that.” You rested your palm against his jaw, the intimacy of the moment made your heart flutter. “I trust you. And if it was too much, I’d tell you.”

He stared at you for a moment, brow furrowed in uncertainty. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

A long exhale left him, relief slumping his shoulders.

“Thank God.” He leaned forward to rest his forehead gently against yours.

“But… you’re probably right.” You managed a playful smile as his eyes snapped to yours. “I’m definitely going to feel it tomorrow.”

A rosy flush bloomed across his face, and he buried it against your neck with a half-embarrassed groan. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You gave a teasing shrug, ignoring the dull ache that made itself known the second you moved your hips. “You might’ve had a point, too.”

“Yeah?” he asked, lifting his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

A teasing grin curled your lips. “You are kinda hot when you’re jealous.”

“Oh, God, don’t say that.” He winced exaggeratedly, making you laugh. “You’ll give me a complex or something.”

You laughed again, and he couldn’t help smiling back, brushing his nose against your cheek in a moment of affection.

“But, I mean, are you feeling jealous?” You asked him with full seriousness. “Because if you are, you can talk to me about it.”

He swallowed, his grip loosening slightly as his eyes softened, realisation settling deep in his chest.

You cared. So much. He thought about it for a brief moment—was he really jealous?

But then he looked at you, all concerned in his arms. The way you gazed at him, unwavering and sure, the way you had trusted him completely not five minutes ago, letting him take control, letting him have you.

It was all the answer he needed.

There was no room for doubt, no reason for insecurity. You were his—entirely his—and he knew it.

“No,” he finally said, voice gentle. “’M not jealous. Not really. I just—I don't know—wanted to make my girl feel good.” His lips quirked up in a small, sheepish grin. “And I guess I wanted to remind you who you’ve got waiting when you clock out.”

You leaned up to plant a reassuring kiss on his jaw. “Well, message received,” you teased, drawing a chuckle from him.

Steve glanced down at your blouse, still haphazardly half-done-up, and your bare legs still shaking.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? I kinda distracted you from changing.”

“You definitely did.” You smile softly as he gets up, offering you his hand to stand.

“C’mon, let’s get a bath running.” He tells you as he cocks his head towards the door.

He guides you to the bathroom, flicking on the light and starting the taps. As water rushed into the tub, he helped you out of your disheveled work shirt, eyes flicking appreciatively across your skin. Gently, he traced a thumb over a reddening mark on your neck where he’d bitten down. A pang of guilt made his eyes tighten.

“Sorry about that,” he whispered, pressing a featherlight kiss over the mark. “Got carried away.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting a grin. “Hey, you got what you wanted, didn’t you? Everyone to know I’m yours?”

“Yeah,” a bashful smile tugged at his lips. “I did.”

Once the bath was ready, you both climbed in. The warm water soothed the lingering tension in your muscles, and you leaned back against his chest with a contented sigh. His arms draped loosely around your middle, fingers stroking lazy shapes over your skin.

“So,” he spoke up after a moment, lips brushing your ear. “you wanna brainstorm those ideas for your article now, Miss Journalist?”

You chuckled, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. “Oh, now you’re interested in my writing process?”

“Course I am.” He gave a soft laugh, tightening his hold on you. “I’m always interested in whatever you’ve got going on. You know that.”

“Alright,” you teased, “I have a few pitches… maybe a feature on that new charity coffee place that’s opening up on Maple Street? Or this local teacher doing after-school science programs? I’m torn—so many good leads.”

Steve made an encouraging noise. “I like the teacher one,” he mused, brow furrowing in real consideration. “I mean, c’mon, that sounds like it’d be really feel-good for the paper. Everyone loves seeing that kinda community stuff.”

“You think so?” You felt a wave of affection swell through you at how genuine he was.

“Yeah. It’s definitely the kind of story that’ll get people talking in a good way.” He paused, a grin curling his lips. “But I gotta say… I also love coffee.”

“We’ll see which one the editor likes.” You giggle.

He helped you out of the tub once the water began to cool, wrapping a towel around his waist before carefully bundling you in another. He pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, then led you back to the bedroom, flicking off the overhead light so you were left in a peaceful glow from the bedside lamp.

You slipped into a soft tee and lounge shorts as he grabbed his own pyjamas from your chest of drawers, blushing at what transpired on it previously. He would never look at it the same way again.

You curled up against him in the bed—his arms around you made everything feel warm and safe.

“What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?” you mumbled against his chest.

“Not ’til afternoon,” he said, carding his fingers through your hair.

A content sigh escaped you, eyes fluttering shut. “Nice for some, I guess.”

“But,” he continued, clearing his throat pointedly, “I’m definitely dropping you off tomorrow.”

Your brow creased, and you glanced up at him with a sleepy frown.

“Why?”

He smirked, his hand coming to rest gently on your hip. “Because… you said you were meeting him earlier, right? The new guy?” He leaned in, voice dropping playfully. “I wanna see the look on your face when you see him—see if you remember exactly what we did tonight.”

Heat flooded your cheeks, and you smacked his chest lightly. “Steve!”

“What?” He chuckled, utterly delighted, pressing a mischievous kiss to your forehead. “I’m curious.”

You huffed in mock-annoyance but couldn’t hide your smile. “You’re incorrigible.”

His chest rumbled with laughter, and he buried his nose in your hair. “That’s me,” he murmured, voice going soft again as he held you closer.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #stranger things fic

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bwabys-scenarios · 1 year ago

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CAN YOU PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO PERV ILLUMI i do not think there is enough perv illumi content on this app

He’s a perv

Perv!Illumi x Fem!Reader

A/N: sorry this is short and may resemble my other perv writings… but I hope y’all like it! Join my server

warnings: pervy Illumi, yandere behavior, masturbation, panty stealing, he’s kind of yucky, breeding, pregnancy

NSFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @pannacottababy @aliceattheart @atransmuter

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!‼️

Illumi had never experienced sexual attraction before. Had he gotten some morning wood once or twice? Yes, but he rarely felt the urge to jack off.

That was… until he met you.

He wasn’t quite sure what made you so appealing. You looked ordinary, at least… you should have. Illumi had been surrounded by the worlds most beautiful women since he was but a boy… yet here he was, getting hard over a girl he had barely met.

Maybe it was your soft curves, or the ways your hips swayed when you walked… it could have even been your sweet voice, and those pretty, glossy lips that made him want to pull you in and taste the shiny lipgloss you were wearing…

Whatever it was, ever since he first laid eyes on you, Illumi’s body had been acting strangely. Even a whiff of your perfume could have his cock twitching, standing at attention and ready for you… it was quite embarrassing, or it would have been if Illumi had any shame.

No, the only reason Illumi his his overwhelming desire for you was because he wanted these feelings to go away as quickly as possible. He couldn’t fall for some nobody Hunter with nen weaker than all the other applicants that had passed with you. No, Illumi was supposed to marry the best of the best, a woman whose womb could bear a strong heir.

But… that didn’t stop him from acting on some of his urges…

Unfortunately, Illumi couldn’t seem to let you out of his sight. It was annoying, following you around as you did your little daily chores in town. He could hardly get any work done when you looked so cute. You didn’t even realize your panties were showing when you bent over to pick up a coin…

When he couldn’t be constantly watching over you, Illumi would steal little trinkets from your home to… keep him satiated. Used panties, your lipgloss, and clothing items that smelled like your perfume.

He’d wrap your panties around his cock as he jerked off, your cardigan pressed against his face. If he really focused, he could imagine your pussy tightening around him, your plump thighs pressing against him as he bounced you on his cock…

He’d cum buckets into your panties, then break into your apartment and drop them off on your floor, like a cat leaving a dead mouse as a gift.

After a while, his urges grew and grew, until your panties just weren’t enough for him anymore.

Wooing you wasn’t too hard, and getting into your pants was easier than he would have though. The fact you were a virgin was very surprising… but welcomed. After all, he was a virgin as well.

The second his cock sunk into you, he immediately knew that he could never let you go. To hell with a strong heir, he wanted you, and only you. You were the only one that could make him feel this way… soft, vulnerable, and so goddamn horny.

Poor, poor you, having Illumi fuck into you for hours on end, unable to pull out of your pretty, warm cunt. He fucked so much cum into you that you felt so swollen and full…

Even after he was done, he didn’t pull out. Instead, he held you close, kissing the top of your head. “You’re all mine, darling. I’ll have wedding preparations ready within a week.”

You were much too exhausted to argue… and you weren’t sure you could say no to Illumi Zoldyck… so you just slept, accepting your fate. You’d be taken care of, and would never have to worry about anything ever again.

Shortly, Illumi would have his now pregnant wife in his home, where she would be safe, and where he could ravish her whenever he felt like it.

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buckyalpine · 7 months ago

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18+ Minors dni Enemies to lovers with some massage therapist Bucky. Breeding kinnk, aftercare, Bucky is a secret softie, all that.

Imagine Rival Biker Bucky x f reader. A smutty, slutty little concept while I add the finishing touches to another fic, just getting this out of my system first. I just love the idea of a sexy, bad boy Bucky getting his hands on the one girl who won't give him a second glance because she's too good for him and they're from opposite worlds. Since childhood. Now he's a biker. Covered in black ink. He works in an auto shop. Owns the bar that brings in chaos. He's smoke, whiskey and leather.

She, however, is soft, pretty, smart and does not have the time to entertain someone like him. She has her degree. Working on a second. She has a career. She does not associate with the likes of him, not as the police chiefs daughter. She'll be damned if she has to even breathe the same air, especially when his gang is the cause for half the problems in the town that her father has been trying to get rid of.

Now, imagine that hours of working on her notes and papers leave her with unbearable knots and kninks in her back. She doesn't want to take a break but the pain only gets worse as the week goes by. It doesn't take long for her to shoot her regular massage therapist a message to book the very first available appointment.

You unclasped your bra, folding and setting it off to the side while waiting for Wanda in the warmly lit room. You could have sworn she was a witch with the way she made pain disappear; she’d also become a good friend after your many visits.

The knock at the door interrupted you as you slid your shorts off, leaving you in your panties, not rushing to jump onto the table considering it was just Wanda anyway.

“Come in!” You smiled, making your way to the massage bed as the door clicked open- “Oh my God!!” You nearly shrieked seeing Bucky walk in, a shit eating from spreading across his face as you scrambled to grab the tiny towel to cover yourself though it was a futile attempt. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

"You have an appointment, don't you?" He quirked an eyebrow as if it was clear as day why he was there.

"Yeah, with Wanda, why are you here, did you get lost on the way to jail?" Your face scrunched in a mix of confusion and disgust ignoring the roll of his eyes while you snatched your shirt to better cover up.

"Well Wanda couldn't make it in but she sent me" He said with a shrug, sighing when he saw your less than impressed face, "Don't flatter yourself, I'm just training under her as part of my physiotherapy internship"

"I'm sorry, you're trying to tell me you of all people are learning how to give massages? Please"

"Physiotherapy" Bucky corrected, "You're not the only one who has a degree, princess" Bucky watched as you groaned realizing you hadn't put your bra on, opting to stuff it in your bag instead of putting it back on in front of him.

"You are NOT laying a finger on me-ow!" You hissed, feeling the knot in your back tug at the rest of your muscles.

"You're not gonna be able to do a whole lot with that much pain" Bucky smirked, only half joking. He wasn't wrong. The pain was worse than before and you needed this an you really didn't have the time to reschedule.

"Fine" You mumbled, turning away from him so you could take your shirt off again, glaring at him when you noticed he hadn't turned away. "Could you at least give me some privacy instead of lurking in the corner like a pervert"

"Whatever you want, princess" He bit his lip as he faced the wall, hearing your feet pad across the tile to lay down on the massage table.

"Alright" You huffed after covering your lower body with the towel, now laying face down, immediately second guessing yourself as he walked over.

"Let me know if anything's uncomfortable or if you want me to stop" His voice was no longer snarky; in fact he sounded professional. "Where do you feel the most tension?"

"Um-shoulders and-lower back" You mumbled out the last bit, he was going to massage you there anyway so there so no pointed hiding it. You tensed at the feeling of his oiled fingers starting to work at your muscles, he had no right to be that good. At all.

“Shit” you hissed trying to keep your voice down, ignoring the clench of your stomach feeling his rough fingers press down on the areas that were tight. Little did you know Bucky was struggling far more than you were.

It went against every bit of professionalism he had. Every moan you tried to silence went right to his cock, his hands making their way lower before trailing up again. Fuck, you sounded so pretty...

"Better stop making those sounds"

"Or what" You challenged back before you could even stop yourself.

"Princess..."

"Your attitude is what needs fixing" Bucky growled, professionalism be damned, "fuck this"

You have no idea how you ended up here. It didn't matter though, not when there wasn't a single cohesive thought in your brain as you wailed letting Bucky absolutely rail you. Your back didn't feel an ounce of pain as he took you on all fours, pulling your hips to slam back against him, gripping your ass with enough strength to leave you sore.

"Feel better now huh baby, not trying to stay quiet anymore, are ya" He let out a low chuckle which melted into a groan feeling you tighten on his dick, "Such a good little princess like you letting me put my dick in you, dirty girl"

You hate to admit it but the clench of your cunt betrays how much you love this. It was so wrong. You had no business fucking someone like him and yet where you were letting his precum paint all over the inside of your walls.

"What would your daddy say princess, if he knew where you were right now, what you were doin'? Thinking you're studying when you're actually all pretty and naked, letting me rub that gorgeous body up and down, bet you'd let me put my cum in you too, huh? Bet your dad would love that, his perfect little girl all knocked up with some bikers baby"

You could have said no, stayed silence, just about anything but nope. You screamed feeling his fingers reach around the massage your clit, your orgasm wasting no time hurling towards you.

"Ja-Ja-JAMESSS"

"MMMPHH I love the sound of that baby, could get used to hearing you sayin' my name, say it again princess, say my name with my cock in you, c'mon, that's it"

"Fuck-James-I-James" You were a mess and loving every bit of it, tears starting to flow down your cheeks, all the pent up stress you were feeling finally releasing. You felt your throat tighten, a sob escaping your lips as you let go, your arousal making a creamy mess on the dark curly hair on the base of his cock.

"God, you're milkin me, you want my cum that bad huh baby, want a little biker baby in that tummy of yours, I'll give it to you, give you so much I might even put twins in there-FUCKK"

"Shhhh" Bucky cooed, wrapping you up in a fluffy towel while cuddling up your limp body, wiping away any remnants of tears while you stayed floating in a subby, post sex haze. "I got you, you did so good princess" You only manage to let out a weak whimper, giving into his warm, thick arms that rock you.

"You alright angel?"

"Mph" you mumble against his chest and he reaches over for a glass of water that's nearby, bringing it up for you to take a sip. You're surprised at how sweet he's being, drinking up before snuggling into him again. Damn him for being so warm and comfy.

"Y'know, there might be a little Bucky in there" He whispers with a playful smirk in his voice, fingers tickling your lower belly, chuckling when you narrow your eyes at him.

"You wish" You sass back, ignoring the butterflies you feel.

"I do" He admits, biting his lip, his previous cocky demeanor replaced with a shy one, though he tries to mask it. Poorly. His cheeks are pinker than the time you threw paint on him for pulling your pigtails. When you were both 4. "I'd want Bucky jr. to have your brains though"

Imagine that incident sets off a very interesting chain of events. A confession of feelings. You both couldn't be happier, meanwhile your father is grumbling about how he knew this fuckin' day would come, God damn it.

"I never liked that boy" He struggles to keep a scowl on his face watching you giggle like you were 4 again, running to the door as soon as you hear the rumble of his bike.

"Shut up, you love him" Your mom chides, watching Bucky swoop you up for a loving kiss, heading you a bouquet of yellow flowers as he always does.

"I still don't like 'em" Your dad says while you roll your eyes, your arm linked with his as he walks you down the aisle.

"Is that why all the files you had to build a case against him all suddenly went missing?" You tease and your dad shugs.

"Wasn't me"

just an idea.

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augustjoy · 8 months ago

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That’ll Show Them.

Based on the following ask: 🥰 yay!! Okay. (Deep breath), so the idea was basically either preschool or elementary school setting. Hotch being a sexy single dad has most of the single (and not!) Moms drooling over him. Y/N or Reader is a single mom, not one of those drooling but definitely sees that he's attractive. But her kid (girl or boy) happens to quickly become Jack's BFF and this causes natural interactions and conversations between her and Hotch over the next few weeks which makes the other moms salty and jealous, and she overhears them at one point speculating that she probably told her kid to befriend Jack just so she could get closer to Hotch. I didn't really think of an ending for it but just had an idea of a scene where she's trying to remain calm and unaffected while overhearing them talking about her and giving side eye. Maybe Hotch hears it too and comes to her defense? Or makes them even saltier by asking her out in front of them? 😈 @nyxwolph thank you for requesting this! I did adjust a little bit, so I hope you like it!!

Aaron Hotchner x Single Mom! Reader

Angst/Fluff

Word count: 3569

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, some explicit language, reader is a single mom, mention of divorce, school moms being shitty, mention of Hotch’s ex father-in-law being ill, no use of y/n, Fem reader, reader has no physical description other than being shorter than hotch, reader is mentioned/implied to own a shop (no details), gay best friend, Hotch starts work at 8am (idk what the BAU hours are lmao) let me know if I missed any!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

The moms were ruthless. You were barely three months into the school year and already you had been completely ostracized from the “mom group.” Part of you had assumed it was because the majority of these moms had all caught wind of your very public, messy divorce. The other part of you, however, knew that the main reason you’d been exiled was him.

Aaron HOTTIE Hotchner, as the other moms called him, had taken Ms. Jenson’s third grade class by storm. Meet the teacher night had been a frenzy of horny moms all praying their child ended up in the same class as Aaron’s son. There were hushed conversations and giggles, and hair flips all night long, you had felt bad for the teachers since their presentations had fallen second to the gossip travelling through the halls about the hot single dad.

“I heard he works for the FBI!”

“I heard he’s a widower. Could you even imagine?”

“Wow. He must be pretty amazing, a single dad and working for the FBI!”

“Can we be real for a moment and just admire how hot he is?”

“Did you see his hands?”

“Yes! Did you see his suit? I love a well-dressed man.”

They were vultures, every single one of them, and Aaron was their newest victim. He, of course, had been completely oblivious to the blatant flirting – he returned every advance they made with a kind smile or polite nod. And listen, you weren’t going to deny that Aaron was hot…you just weren’t trying to be like those other moms and gush about it at meet the teacher night.

Your being excluded by the class moms had only gotten worse since Jack and Millie had become friends. Millie had told you on the first day of school, that a boy had pushed her down on the playground, and before you could panic, she told you that a different boy…one named Jack…had helped her up. She said after that, they sat together at lunch and read aloud.

You could barely contain you excitement. Since the divorce, Millie had been having a tough time making friends – mainly because the moms told their kids to stay away. Your ex had been quite cozy with some of the moms at Millie’s last school and you had eventually found out he was sleeping with one of them. Once the divorce was finalized and you had full custody, you’d moved and that meant a new school for Millie.

Realistically that should’ve been the end of the drama, but it just so happens that the girl who your husband slept with…well her sister’s child was in the same class as Millie. He of course was the kid that pushed Millie down on the first day of school.

It shouldn’t have bothered you, their constant whispers…but it had you seething. This was an everyday occurrence now that you drove Jack home. The moms all waiting for dismissal engaging in hushed conversations about how desperate you must be.

“I bet she told her daughter to befriend his son.”

“What a sad way to get his attention.”

“Well, I mean, her ex did cheat…so she’s probably desperate.”

“She’s ridiculous if you ask me.”

This new development has begun exactly two weeks ago. Jack and Millie had been on their sixth playdate – this had been the first one Aaron had been able to host (due to work obvi) which had led to you staying and the two of you talking about how demanding his work schedule must be. He had told you it kept him pretty busy and that his sister-in-law had been extremely helpful, but with her father falling ill, she was growing increasingly busy.

“You know, I could drive Jack. If you’re comfortable with it.” You offered.

“I couldn’t possibly ask that of you!” Aaron panicked.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t ask…I’m offering. I already have to drive to the school to get Millie, I could grab Jack and the two of them could hang out until you are off work. And if your sister-in-law ever can’t watch him while you’re away, know that I am more than willing.” You punctuated with a kind smile.

“What if I take them to school, I don’t need to be at work until eight, and then you could pick them up? That way it is even. Obviously when I’m out of town, which wouldn’t necessarily be possible, but I could coordinate with Jess and…” Aaron was spiraling.

“Aaron. If you want to take them to school when you’re in town, that would be great. That would allow me the time I need in the shop before opening. When you are out of town, if Jack is staying with me, I will take them to and from school – if he’s with Jess, she doesn’t have to worry about Millie okay?” You suggested.

“You’re a godsend. You know that?” Aaron said, a smile growing on his face.

“Yeah well, Jack has been an incredible friend to Millie, and I would love for them to spend more time together. Plus, the house has been so quiet and, I don’t know. It would be nice to have the kids there.” There was a slight cringe that was brought with the insinuation of your divorce.

“I appreciate it either way.” Aaron gently nudged your shoulder.

So, for the last two weeks, Aaron had been driving the kids to school and you had been picking them up. He shockingly had yet to be called on a case…but you knew it was only a matter of time.

Aaron was called away a few days later, he had let you know that Jess would be watching Jack. That had sent a tinge of pain right to your heart. In truth, you were attracted to Aaron, and the more time you spent with him, you were starting to fall for him. You tried not to focus too much on the fact that he’d sent Jack to stay with Jess…chalking up to the fact that Aaron probably didn’t want to burden you – even though he could never.

You didn’t hear from Aaron until nearly two weeks later.

A: Hey, we just got back from this case. I’ll pick Millie up in the morning for school. Are you good to pick up Jack after?

Y: Hey! Yeah I can pick them up tomorrow. I have to take Millie to get her cleats and shin guards for soccer, is it okay if Jack tags along?

A: I totally forgot soccer starts next weekend. If I sent some money in Jack’s backpack could you pick up his stuff too?

Y: Of course! Will you be late tomorrow?

A: Probably, after a case like this, there’s a lot of paperwork to be done. I will try to be there by 7pm if that’s okay.

Y: 7 is fine, we will get homework done and I will feed them and have Jack all ready for you!

A: Thank you. Seriously I don’t know what I’d do without you.

The next day you arrived at the school at 2:45 pm to pick up the kids. You parked your car like always and stood in wait with the other parents. You were checking your phone to see where the nearest sporting goods store was when one of the dads approached you.

“Hey, is Millie ready for soccer to start?”

“Oh, hey Scott! Yeah she is so excited! What about Macy?” You questioned.

“She’s nervous, but she told me she was glad Millie and Jack were playing too. Michael was really bummed that the girls weren’t in a class together this year.” Scott explained.

“I was too! How is Michael? We should all have dinner some time!” You suggested.

“He’s good, and I am sure he would love to have you and your new beau over for a meal – I will talk to him when we get home!” Scott beamed.

“New beau…what are you talking about? Do you mean Aaron? He and I, we’re not…” You stuttered.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay! You should be bragging to all those bitches that you bagged the hot DILF! Don’t let them spoil something good for you hon.” Scott gently squeezed your arm.

Just as you opened your mouth to reply, the kids came running out. Macy ran to hug her dad while Jack and Millie made their way to you. Both kids hugged you and then said their goodbyes to Macy. You moved to grab their hands and guide them to the car, but not without catching the glares from all the moms. They must’ve heard Scott and you talking…and while you and Aaron weren’t dating, it didn’t hurt to let them believe it for a bit.

After getting the kids soccer gear, you took them home and got them started on their homework and gave them some apple slices. You checked a few emails, changed the washer and dryer, and wrote up your grocery list in the meantime.

When they were done with their homework, you checked their work and then quizzed them on their spelling words. By then it was nearly 5:30 pm, you set the two of them up in the living room with a coloring book and some Legos while you got dinner started. You made some grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans – for the kids, you added some cheese to the potatoes and cut up the chicken – setting that on the table for them alongside a glass of chocolate milk.

“Kids, time for dinner!” You hollered.

“Coming mom!” Millie called.

You were about 10 minutes into dinner when a knock sounded from the front door. You excused yourself and walked over to let Aaron in.

“Hey, we were just having dinner, can I get you a plate?” You offered.

“Oh, as long as it’s not an imposition!” Aaron replied.

“Aaron, how many times do I have to tell you that it’s not an imposition. I like having you around.” You stopped abruptly, embarrassed that you’d let that slip. “I mean, you know, it’s nice that Millie and Jack are friends…I uh. I…”

“I know what you mean. And I like having you around too.” He said, finally stepping fully into the house.

Aaron placed a gentle hand on the small of your back to guide you toward the kitchen. You plated him up some food and he joined you at the table, sitting right beside you. You couldn’t help the growing heat that bloomed on your cheeks as his arm brushed against your own. The room was filled with the playful chatter of the eight-year-olds that sat across from you, giggles escaping them as they recounted the events of their day at school.

Glancing over, you noticed the joy radiating from Aaron’s expression. You hadn’t seen him this genuinely happy in all the time you’ve known him, and you wonder if it is because he doesn’t get to relax like this often. The thought allows your mind to drift even further – splaying images of cooking for the four of you all the time, of late nights cuddled with Aaron and even further into the future, welcoming a new child to the family you’ve curated…only it's all in your head.

“You alright?” Aaron whispers. His warm breath against your ear causes a chill to cascade across your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry, just lost in thought.”

“Hey mom, is Jack’s dad going to be my new dad?” Millie posed, causing you to choke on the bite of chicken you’d just taken.

“Woah, sweetheart you’re okay, just breathe!” Aaron patted your back gently. “Here, take a sip of water.”

Taking a swig, the chicken makes its way down. “Mills…baby where did you get that idea?”

“Well Rain said that his mom said that you were moving in on Jack’s dad, and I thought that if we were moving in, then that would make him my new dad!” Millie smiled.

It was Aaron who choked this time, only it was on his water, causing some of it to certainly escape through his nose. He pulled his napkin to his face as he coughed in an attempt to clear his airway.

“Aar…breathe.” You returned the favor of patting him gently on the back. “Are you okay?”

He answered with a nod and allowed a chuckle to escape his mouth before looking up to meet your gaze. Aaron wasn’t ignorant of the fact that the other moms had been eyeing him since the beginning of the year, he just hadn’t realized that they’d gone after you due to your budding closeness.

“Millie, Rain’s mom is just kidding. Jack’s dad and I are becoming good friends, like you and Jack, and they don’t like that, so they’re saying some not so nice things.” You explained.

“Oh…okay.” Millie said, a small pout gracing her features.

A pout that pulled on not only yours, but also Aaron’s heartstrings. He allowed himself a glance in your direction and took careful note of the hurt and disappointment that flashed across your own features briefly. Was it possible you felt more than you were letting on?

Six days later you received a call at four in the morning. It hadn’t been the thing to wake you up, but it came as a surprise, nonetheless.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I just got a call about a time sensitive case and Jess is dealing with her dad. Would you mind taking Jack while I am away?”

“Aaron, of course! Do you need me to come and get him?”

“No, I will get a bag together for him and drop him off on my way to the office. I am going to leave you with a key to my place just in case Jack needs anything. Thank you for doing this, seriously it means a lot.”

“It’s really not a problem, I will have a bed made up for him by the time you get here.”

“Thanks sweetheart, see you soon.”

With that, Aaron hung up, and for the second time you were taken by surprise at the pet name he so casually referred to you by. You had to remind yourself not to swoon. It wouldn’t do you any good to get into your thoughts about the meaning behind his slip of the tongue.

Jack Hotchner was the most wonderful child you have the privilege of knowing – aside from Millie of course. He was polite and he listened with no pushback. He helped Millie with her chores (cleaning up her toys and putting her clothes in the laundry basket), he didn’t complain, and he just exuded this kindness and joy that brought an extra bit of warmth to your home.

You could see Millie becoming attached and you feared her heart would break once Jack had to go back home. You only hoped that she’d understand that although Jack’s presence isn’t currently permanent, they’d still get to see each other all the time.

Jack stayed with you for five nights, Aaron surprised you all by showing up with a pizza on Saturday evening.

The three of you had been cuddled up on the couch watching Inside Out 2 when the doorbell rang. You shuffled over to the door in your sweats and fuzzy socks to see Aaron standing there in a quarter zip and jeans. Good God, he’s never looked so good.

“Aaron!” You couldn’t hide your excitement.

“Surprise! I brought pizza, I hope cheese is okay.” He inquired.

“Cheese is perfect.” You confirmed. “Kids, dinner is here!”

“Dad!”

Jack ran to embrace his father. Millie, however, stormed off to her room. You were quick to throw Aaron an apologetic glance, before following her down the hall.

“Mills…what’s wrong honey?”

Millie replied with a grumble in her pillow and a shake of her head.

“Baby, I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”

“It’s not fair. Jack doesn’t have a mom, and I don’t have a dad. But when you and Mr. Aaron are together it feels like a normal family. How come you guys can’t just be together?” Millie cried.

“Oh, honey. It’s not that simple bug. Mr. Aaron, well he’s a busy man and I just…” You trailed off.

“Don’t you like him?”

“Mills, yeah I like him, but like I said, it’s not that simple. Even if he liked me back, that wouldn’t just make us a family, it would take some time for us to get serious and then we’d have to decide if that was the right step for us.”

“It is the right step! You guys like each other, and Jack and I get along…mommy it’s perfect! You could be Jack’s mom and Mr. Aaron could be my new dad.” Millie said matter-of-factly.

“Oh honey, is this about your dad?” You pulled Millie into a hug.

“No! He wasn’t nice to me like Mr. Aaron is. Mom I want Mr. Aaron to be my dad.” She whispered as tears stained her cheeks.

“I know honey, me too…me too.” You pressed a kiss to her head. “Baby lets go have some pizza and enjoy our time with Jack and Mr. Aaron, yeah?”

“Okay.”

That night, something shifted. Aaron and you had begun spending more time together, going to soccer practices and games together, taking the kids to the park, the movies, pottery painting places, dinner at your house, game night at his. Aaron had also exclusively been asking you to take Jack while he was away on cases – claiming Jess’ father was getting worse.

Two months passed like this, and things had started to feel very domestic. Millie was asking more and more about Jack being her brother and Aaron her father and you had to explain that even though they weren’t related, even by marriage, that friends could be considered family too.

Once again you were taking care of Jack while Aaron was out of town on a case, only this time it was a little different. Your car was in the shop, so Aaron had let you borrow his car, and today was the last day of school before winter break. The schoolyard was buzzing with anticipation of the final bell, parents were discussing their vacation plans with one another while waiting.

You has been talking to Scott and Michael when Becca approached you.

“You know, I think it’s a sick thing you’ve done, using your daughter to help you prey on a vulnerable man.” She hissed.

“Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about?” You shot back.

“Aaron. You had Millie befriend Jack and for what so you could trick Aaron into going out with you? It’s truly despicable behavior. He’s a good man and he deserves someone who is genuine.” Becca spewed.

“I don’t know where you get off, talking to me like that, but I can assure you – ”

“Becca, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t speak to my girlfriend that way. She is the kindest most genuine person I have ever met, and every day she shows me how much she cares for and loves Jack and me. So back off, and maybe don’t speak on things you don’t know anything about.” Aaron bit as his arm snuck its way around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“I KNEW IT!” Scott shouted.

Becca stormed off with a huff and you turned around to see Aaron wearing a shit eating grin. You couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with disbelief at the fact that Aaron was here right now, he’d stuck up for you, and he’d called you his girlfriend. Yeah, you were fairly sure your brain had short circuited.

“Girlfriend?” Your gaze lifted to meet his.

“You know, I’d been meaning to ask.” He grinned down at you. “What do you say?”

“Yes! Of course!”

Aaron closed the gap between you and captured your lips in a kiss. All the while the moms scoffed and huffed in disbelief that you truly had taken Aaron HOTTIE Hotchner off the market. And before you had a chance to pull away, Jack and Millie came bounding over just in time to catch the last bit of your kiss.

“Does this mean Mr. Aaron can finally be my dad?” Millie asked.

Aaron leaned down to Millie’s level “Mills, I would love nothing more than to be your dad, but we have to take things slow okay? Your mom and I have a lot of grown-up decisions to make before that can happen, so I need you to be patient. Can you do that for me?”

“I can do that!”

You leaned down in front of Jack, wanting to ensure he’s included in all this. “What do you think Jack? Would you be okay with me and your dad being together? It means you and Millie will be together a lot more often.”

“Will you eventually be my mom then?”

“If your dad and I choose to get married eventually, then yeah, I’d be your stepmom.” You explained.

“I think you’d be a really good mom.” Jack wrapped his arms around you.

Aaron and you may have only just made things official, but in the last five or so months, you’d both fallen for each other. Sometimes, things are just right, and all the pieces fall into place naturally. And for the first time in a long time, you couldn’t wait to see where this leads.

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aninipanin1 · 2 months ago

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Hihi, here is some food for thought, albeit rather niche!

Ex-Professional Footballer Young Manager who agrees to play as a substitute player in a match in exchange for a major business sponsor for Blue Lock, and suddenly was absent from the Blue Lock Facility for a week because of it. The Blue lock boys (who didn't know about her football background bc she didn't think it was anything impressive compared to their achievements in Blue lock) panicking thinking Ego locked her off, only to end up learning the truth and watching (fanboying over) her match.

STRIKER OF THE HEART AND GAME

Notes: Yall never fail to give me the most, diabetic and tooth-decaying ideas to write. Theyre all so sweet, and I love reading ALL your asks.

"Good luck, Y/n-chan! You can do it!" Anri cheered beside you, watching you put on your cleats and gloves inside the sports bag as you sat on the tiles ground of Ego's office.

Speaking of the man, he had his back on you, eyes focused on the CCTV cameras around the facility as he watched the players practice in their own respective stratums and places. He was the epitome of calm, cool, and collected, opposite of the pounding of your heart just thinking about playing the sport once again.

Well, its not like Ego is about to be subbed in a team as its center midfielder where he has no prior knowledge or experience playing with, and being expected to dominate nonetheless.

"Thank you, Anri-san! Um...I'll try my best."

"Why are you nervous, Y/n-chan?"

A squeak was heard from Ego's swivel chair, as the man turned around to face you, his eyes disapproving and empty as it always looked. He stood up before folding his upper half forward to meet your eyes.

"You are in Blue Lock. A team already passed the average-at-best standard and world of Japan. Even if you are a manager here, you know the key to awaken your true capability, you know your own ego and strengths. Use them, use them wisely. I chose you as the manager of this place for a reason."

You looked at the man, your main mentor ever since you have been in this place with a smile. One large enough to brighten up your whole face. You know that even if his words came out somewhat harsh, this is his way of caring. Having seen it time and time again with how he interacted with the Blue Lockers, it was his way of comforting and at the same time looking out for your pre-game morale.

"Of course, Ego-san! I'll win this game!"

And with that, you headed out of the facility, inside one of the buses provided by the higher-ups and started the journey to where the match will be held.

"Y/n-chan! Let's eat lunch togeth- Eh? Y/n-chan?"

Shidou burst through your office door, ready to jump and hug you, and hopefully, have you join him in the cafeteria to eat lunch. But to his surprise, you were not there.

You would always be there when it was lunchtime, writing down some things or eating away in the confines of the room. But today, you were nowhere to be seen.

Shrugging, the striker just hopped his way to the cafeteria, thinking that you may be there. But to his chagrin, you also were not there. Shidou started to get a bit upset and sad, after all, he has not seen you for hours! He needs his daily dose of Y/n.

"Hey, has any of you guys seen Y/n? I haven't seen her since breakfast. She told me she'd help me schedule my workouts." The blonde heard Karasu talking with the other PXG members in the cafeteria.

But much to their worries, everyone seemed to be experiencing the same thing. No one has seen you since you entered the cafeteria to eat breakfast, and that was very unlike you. You would usually be walking around the facility, helping with the players and staff or even accomplishing your never ending responsibilities and tasks.

"Hmm, maybe she is just busy in her office? Or with Ego-san? We know how her work piles up aomost every second. I feel bad for her." Nanase answered Karasu's inquiry. His theory was not that farfetched and could possibly be true if Shidou did not just went there a few minutes ago.

"She isn't in her office, headband. I tried to look for her everywhere, but she isnt here."

"Not even in a different stratum?" Karasu added.

"Dunno. Didn't check."

"Then don't assume, idiots. She's probably in the other stratums-" But Karasu was cut off when their door to the cafeteria opened to reveal Reo who looked a bit panicked.

"Has any of you guys seen Y/n-chan around in your stratum?"

"Er, no. Why?"

"Then she's really missing. I've been running around the other stratums to ask if they've seen her anywhere but she is nowhere! You guys are the last place I asked and...well you get the idea."

Now that made all of them panic, where were you?!

Looking around at each other, they nodded as if they thought the same thing at the same time. There was definitely only one person who knows where you are.

Welp, time to go to Ego's office.

"What?" The man said, annoyed and a bit angry at the accusatory questions. Well, it was not accusatory but the thought of doing what the players were saying made him feel like they think he was dumb.

"Was she kicked out and we'll get a new manager?!" Reo said, panicking.

"What?! No, Y/n-chan is the best. You can't do that!" Charles said, frowning heavily. His teeth bared as if he was ready to bite Ego if he did confirm he kicked you out.

"Oi, four eyes if you kicked her out, I will kick you literally." Shidou threatened.

"Did she leave us here?" Rin said. Even if his voice sounded neutral and cold, there was a slight crack that indicated he was absolutely heartbroken if that was the case.

"No, you idiots. She didn't leave, nor did I kick her out. I am not dumb and she pampers you all too much for her to just leave." Ego rolled his eyes at the overdramatic and outlandish thoughts they had. Instead, he turned his swivel chair to face the monitors that were mounted on the wall.

"She is out for the week. She has to play in some matches. Unfortunately, no is not an option since it was tue JFU's decision. Now leave and go back to training, or else someone will indeed be kicked out of this place, and it's not her. Now go."

This definitely made the PXG team's (and Reo's) ears perk up in interest. You? Playing in a match? In a football match?! Holy cow, why did they not know? Or better yet, why did you not tell them?

That afternoon, most of the PXG members huddled together as they searched your game in the tablet provided in Blue Lock. And to no one's surprise, it was currently live, and the game is just about to start.

Meanwhile, in the Manshine stratum, Reo dragged both Nagi and Chigiri in their rooms and prepared the tablet.

"What are we even watching, Reo? I wanna play." Nagi mumbled on the pillow, laying down on the purple-haired male's bed stomach down, Chigiri who sat down on his bed as well nodded.

"Yeah, I mean, I don't mind. But it's not that important, is it." Reo looked offended when Chigiri even tried to insinuate that the match was not important.

"What do you mean not important?! Y/n-chan is going to play as their midfielder! Its the most important thing ever! We're already lacking because we're not there at all to support her! So we have to support her from here."

Now that got Chigiri to straighten up, and Nagi awake, both their eyes wide. They thought it would just be a normal exhibition match. But Reo did not mention you would be playing! Then maybe they would have immediately paid attention.

"You mean Y/n-chan is playing?!" Chigiri said in shock.

"Y/n-chan...I want to watch...!" Nagi said, for the first time paying attention to something, his once half-lidded eyes wide awake and focused on the screen of the tablet.

"Yeah! I didn't tell you?" Reo asked to which he just got a pillow thrown on his face, courtesy of Chigiri.

"No, you dumbass! Just start playing the live, geez."

Needless to say, the two teams even forgot to eat their dinner just to see the end of your match was an understatement. The members were too focused on their screens.

Charles, Rin, Shidou, Chigiri, Reo, and even sometimes Nagi would be muttering curses and mean words towards your teammates who would fail to receive the ball that you so graciously give them from the midfield. There were even times when you would give it to them in a place optimal for a goal, with a pass that even an amateur can score a goal with but they would still miss.

"That number 9 is a fucking idiot." Rin rolled his eyes.

"Number 9? You mean number 21! She is the worst striker I have ever seen! Hmph! If I was (nickname) I would never pass to her!" Charles said throwing his fists up in the air.

"Why is she even the striker? Y/n-chan should have been the striker, and instead, she's stuck at the midfield." Karasu commented.

"Poor Y/n-chan. The enemy team is already ahead of 2 points, and they still have none." Tokimitsu said the moment he saw your face when the camera panned at you. You looked stressed and a bit annoyed at your incompetent teammates.

"If I was her, I would have probably punched that number 21 girl." Shidou said with the angriest face anyone has seen him. After all, they were strikers, and they know a good pass when they see one. Yours were absolutely perfect every time, and if they received a pass like that, they would never waste it away by being locked by the goalkeeper orget stolen by the other team.

The Manshine players were not fairing well either. Reo was clenching the poor blanket too harsh in anger at their strikers and even the defenders and midfielders for leaving you alone at times and not syncing with your smart plans.

"Absolutely horrendous!! Why didn't they go there?! Even an idiot would know that Y/n-chan lured the other team's players there for a reason!" Reo complained.

"They're absolutely brainless at the game." Chigiri rolled his eyes, although he did feel a little amused that someone like Reo, who is usually a gentleman to girls, throwing curse words at the players.

"Hmm...I would be so happy if Y/n-chan gave me a perfect pass like that. She would even clear up some of the defenders just so number 21 or nymber 10 can score a goal." Nagi commented, a frown on his face, not liking that your team was losing.

But of course, when you make a mistake, its forgivable. Like the one time you received the ball a bit sloppily, mainly because you were growing tired.

"Well duh, of course she would miss. She's tired of carrying the whole team on her shoulders." Reo said.

In the dying minutes of the game, with only less than 10 minutes left, with the score being 2-0 in favour of the opposing team, you seemed to have had enough. You became a ballhog, dribbling like a pro against the defenders and midfielders, using your teammates as shields just for you to score a goal.

And let's just say that if Ego was not watching the match as well, he would have scolded the two teams for screaming like wild animals when you scored.

"Now that's a goal you fucking idiots!" Shidou laughed and jumped like a monkey along with Charles.

"She's the only decent player, which sucks." Rin rolled his eyes.

Some of the members of your team ran to congratulate with you, but instead of celebrating, you turned to the striker who looked a bit annoyed that you did not pass to her and scored yourself.

"If you can't do your work as a striker. Then I will do it and score. Do me a favour and get out of my way, that's the least you can do to help this team win."

Everyone was silent after you said it with a straight and emotionless face, just watching you walk away to your place in the court. To say that the striker was pissed was an understatement. She was the striker of this team for more than three years now! She was also older than you, meaning she deserved respect, and you had the audacity? You were just an intern, a replacement of their midfielder.

The other team members were split into two. Some who are close to the striker immediately sided with her and started to glare at you, while some who really wanted to win were more on your side, but they decided to just stay neutral and continue playing.

Until the end of the game, you were a ballhog, passing scarcely to avoid it being stolen by the enemies.

'Tsk, at least some of the defenders in this team are decent.'

Doing a quick roulette on the defender in front of you and immediately holding the shoulder of the one to your left. You squinted your eyes and shot another goal, this time it had a bit of curve to it that the goalkeeper did not read so it resulted into another miracle goal, or atleast thats what they called it because there was only 2 minutes left in the game.

Everyone in the stadium were on their feet, even the commentators stood up shouting in their mic in amazement.

"What...WHAT A GOAL!! THE INFAMOUS MANAGER OF BLUE LOCK HERSELF, Y/N L/N, SCORED A MIRACLE GOAL! A GOAL THAT EQUALIZES HER TEAM!"

In the end, there came an additional time but unfortunately, no goal came. After all, you were tired beyond belief as stamina had always been your problem and hence why you do not play much anymore.

So, it came to penalties. You managed to score your own penalty, but to say that your other teammates flopped was an understatement. The other team, however, managed to score 2 penalty goals, hailing them the winner of the match.

The boys, who watched in the Blue Lock facility, were more than pissed of course. You lost because of those stupid teammates of yours that dragged you down. The worst part is that they know you can produce better plays if only your teammates can catch up to it.

Ego, who waa watching remained neutral as ever, while Anri was gripping her hair in annoyance.

"It can't be helped. This is why we are striving to change Japanese football, Anri-chan." Ego said.

In the locker room, you remained quiet and neutral as always as you took a shower and changed into your normal clothes. But as you did, the striker of the team came out, her face contorted in annoyance.

"We lost because you were a fucking ballhog. Why couldn't you just pass the ball to me or Hana over here? Heck even to Aiyo-"

"Not really. We lost because none of you scored your penalties. Even if not all of you did, if only some of you did, we could have won. My ballhog move was for the best, after all, it was the one that scored us two points and equalized us. It was even the reason we got to play longer." You said with a straight face, just saying facts. But to the others, especially to the striker, you were bragging about being the best in the team and dissing their skills which pissed her off more.

If it was not for the manager walking in, the situation would have gotten worse. Thankfully, the manager was not any of the players as he congratulated and thanked you for your hat trick. And said, it was very much impressive seeing as the opposing team was one of the strongest in Japan.

"It's nothing, sir. I still had fun playing. Thank you."

With one last bow you left them to themselves.

"Why did you not tell us about this?!" Isagi said, mad and horrified. The other two teams did not tell them that you were playing matches and that you did one yesterday and he did not get to watch it?!

"Yeah! Chigiri, you're so mean!" Bachira said with a pout, while Niko just agreed.

"I'll tell Ubers about this. They have another one tomorrow right?"

"Yeah. At 7:30 pm. We wanted to support Y/n-chan even if we're stuck here. But be aware, her team is so shit it gets annoying and that Y/n is the only carrying that team. So yeah..." Chigiri said to which Isagi just shrugged.

"Oh, it can't be that bad, right?"

Oh, how wrong he was. Wednesday came, and all the teams all camped in a meeting room (inside the Bastard Munchen stratum) and set up the live (they managed to convince Ego, which was surprising but knowing his favouritism towards you, it was not that surprising).

At first, it was just the Blue Lockers, but when Kaiser, along with Ness, entered the meeting room, they were a little curious.

"Leave, Kaiser." Isagi rolled his eyes, to which the German just smirked.

"Oh, but I heared little Y/n will be playing a game. I want to watch how she does, of course."

Now, the meeting room was crowded as hell. Even some of the masters went to watch, for God's sake. The moment the match started, the whole pace was quiet down, and everyone's attention was on the screen of the large tv.

You got the ball early in the game as you dribbled past the midfielders and decided to give the strikers one chance to prove if they'll be worth passing to in this match.

You decided to give a curved pass accurate to where number 21 was, till now you did not really have any care to know what her name was. It was a pass that was easy to score a goal with. You put a good spin to it, and it was optimal for any type of straight shot.

Even the Blue Lockers rolled their eyes at this, not liking that you're going easy on your team, especially after what happened last game.

"If she doesn't score that, I don't have any hope for any of them at all, except Y/n-chan." Chigiri commented, remembering how pissed he was when he watched the previous game.

They all watched the striker, receiving the ball with the side of her right foot and kicked to the net only for it to hit the goalpost, bouncing on it to end outside.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Isagi let out, everyone started to curse as well as the others.

"I mean, I would make a comment about how they're a Division 3 team. But anyone could have scored that goal..." Yukimiya said, shaking his head. This was a professional team? He thinks not.

"I think I know that striker girl. I have heard of her before... yeah. She was supposedly good, guess fame got to her head and she didn't improve anymore." Niko said, thinking back to some articles he has read about her. If that was the case, it would be rather sad that she wasted her talents and skills to remain in that same level forever instead of bettering herself.

After that fluke of a goal, you ended up just passing the ball to some of the defenders and midfielders who are much more efficient in protecting the ball or even scoring. After all, you were not used to being a ballhog, and the last game was just a desperate measure. But now, you had time to flesh out the game and your strategies instead of going all instinct.

Passing to one of the midfielders whom you knew named Yuko, you let her weave her way through the enemies before using her being stuck in the middle of two of them as a way for her to have no choice but pass it to you, which she did. You received it through the small opening before running through the field, dribbling the ball as fast as you can (you weren't a natural like Bachira or even Lavinho, but you weren't bad at it) before you were stopped by the opponent's defenders, who were lured by the aspect that you were not the best dribbler they have seen and to hopefully steal the ball.

Instead of fighting or dribbling past them, you kicked the ball high. It was high enough to seem like it was a pass, only it was to get past the defenders. It curved downwards as the goalkeeper tried to catch it, to no avail.

You scored your first goal of the night. And by God, was it magical to see. You were like a magical siren, elegantly swimming past the defenders, luring them using your elegant plays and seemingly understandable and naive plays so they can try and intercept you, only for you to turn around and be the one to make use of their belief that you were an easy. Just like the old sailors who thought that the beautiful girl in the middle of the ocean was an innocent woman, lured in by her beauty and hypnotizing voice, only to be dragged down the sea in despair.

You were that. Beautiful yet deadly. This was something none of the players or even masters have seen.

You looked ahead at the goal, not even celebrating as you just wiped the sweat on your forehead. As if you did not just plunge the opposing defenders into your sea, drowning them in despair.

"Damn...I've never seen her play...I kinda wish I did before..." Oliver said, breathless. The rest seemed like it as well, as if they were the players on the field, affected by your siren song.

"Now I get why Ego called her play...hypnotizing once...this is what he meant..." Kunigami added.

"Heh, a play that is so beautiful yet naive looking to lure in those around her, only to turn around and show her hidden monstrous side the moment she's in her golden zone for a goal. A killer playstyle that kid got." Lavinho said as he rested his back on the walls. You looked like you were dancing on the field so beautifully and elegantly. He would know since he was a dancer. And now he wonders if you had any backgrounds in dancing. The way you position your foot, your posture, the way you moved, and your isolation, it all reminded him of a dancer. He'll have to ask you.

"See! I told you guys. Y/n-chan is absolutely breathtaking when she plays." Bachira said excitedly. He had you play with him before, and he had a taste of your true ego before. Needless to say, it was one of the reasons why he had a crush on you somewhat. Your posture and the way you moved with a ball at the time to him was the perfect form for dribbling. And so, he would ask you for help in training and well, it was brutal but fun.

"Hmm, now I know your hidden side, Y/n. That crazy four-eyes definitely picked the right person to be the manager of these losers." Kaiser whispered under his breath.

ADDITIONAL TIME:

After the game:

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

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