#but it's not looking good for the home team

[vxnuslogy]

━━━━━━ truth, dare, spin bottle.  ̊ ̟ ꒷꒦

☆    |     or in which you fall in love with the stereotypical school athlete, council secretary, and your class president on campus⠀    …

꒰ including ꒱ ⠀! ⠀phainon, anaxagora & mydei.          ୨୧          ꒰ warnings ꒱ ⠀! ⠀modern!au, school!au, ooc, just very stereotypical school tropes, highschool awkwardness.

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✶ : PHAINON 

 jersey no. 7 of amphoreus' football and basketball team—you'd be living under a rock if you don't know his name and the reputation that follows him. his matches are a sight for sore eyes. when he’s on the field, amphoreus is automatically getting that gold medal regardless of the opponent. you manage to watch one of his basketball matches during prep season for the school festival. it’s a friendly rematch against an old rival school and to no one’s surprise, phainon emerged as the mvp. in that match alone, you see why everyone is endeared by him—he reeks of sportsmanship that no student athlete in this school could ever dream of. he approaches every opponent with determination but never underestimates them, he always wants to play a fair game and even voluntarily forfeits if the game shows signs of rigging.

you don’t deny your fellow classmates who ask you if you think he’s cute because he is. he reminds you of an excited puppy during games and a loyal guard dog when it comes to his studies. he’s rather tall for his age–just a year below you but he’s far surpassed your height–and he has a good build, befitting for someone as sports orientated as him. phainon also has this magnetic pull to him that makes everyone want to befriend him, and you don’t mean it in a bad way. 

after classes, you usually go home without a fail, but this time around, you make a beeline towards the gym to watch another one of phainon’s matches. when your friends catch sight of you, they all give you playful looks that scream “you’re here for phainon right?” and you can only roll your eyes at them. but before you can take a seat at the spot they reserved for you, something collided with your head and your world is suddenly spinning.

“oh god, are you alright?!” 

someone shouts as you groan in pain. your vision spotting as you try to make out the messy blob of white and blue in front of you. someone takes your hand and you’re forcefully yanked up to your feet, making your headache worse with how quickly you stood up.

“i’m so, so, so, sorry. this is my fault i wasn’t paying attention. does your head hurt badly? do you want to go to the infirmary? someone get me ice packs—”

“will you calm down? you’re making my headache worse!” you don’t mean for your voice to sound so cold but it was nothing but the truth. you appreciate this mystery person’s concern, but god does he talk too much.

“right… right! sorry.”

you sigh and massage your temple. when your vision starts to clear up again, your mouth is left hanging as you realize who’s in front of you. that signature white hair and blue eyes combo is practically thrown at your face as phainon tilts his head in mild curiosity at your expression.

“i… need to go. sorry.” you quickly say, gathering your things from the floor and speed walking to the exit. you faintly hear the athlete heartthrob call out to you but you don’t pay him any mind. you were not getting into a cat fight with his fans with that cliche encounter.

that following night, your friends betray you by leaking your phone number to phainon. after a few heated and teasing messages in the group chat, you steady your breathing as you open his messages. you didn’t necessarily know what to expect on how phainon messages his friends or acquaintances, but you certainly find some childish endearment.

he sent a lot of messages—broken up into multiple sections explaining his worry and regret of hitting you instead of one single text box. phainon also used excessive amounts of exclamation marks, a lot of misspelled words, uppercases, and surprisingly enough, kaomojis. you let out an exasperated smile as you finally come to understand how cute this kid was.

you only planned to reply with a single message explaining your condition but that quickly spiralled into him chatting up a storm—a never ending stream of topics. you indulge him, using this as an excuse to find out even more on why so many people are so gravitated towards him. you surmise it’s because of his easy-going nature; he never leaves you hanging with his replies and speaking of replies, he sends messages at an ungodly quick speed. one thing turned to another before he ended the conversation with a message that read: “would you like to get a cup of coffee as an apology? it’ll be my treat ofc!!!!”

✶ : ANAXA (GORAS)

you see, if there was one person that made your blood boil like lava, it would be the student council secretary, anaxa. always so curt, blunt, and rude, he makes all of your accomplishments seem small when put side by side with his. it infuriates you to no end when the test scores for each year is posted on the bulletin and you spot him dead center of the crowd. you already feel a scowl forming on your face as you pass the bodies of other students and mentally prepare yourself for his berating voice.

you frown in dismay when you see his name on the number one spot with you a few spaces below him. your lip sews themselves shut when you hear him cough into his fist, quiet enough to not disturb the other students' excitement but loud enough for you to hear. as if wanting to rub more salt onto a fresh wound, anaxa peers into your line of vision with a smug smirk on his lips. with your pride hurt, you quickly turn away from him and begin walking away to save face. you didn’t need him to rub it in your face that he was leagues better than you.

anaxa won’t admit the swirling in his gut when he sees your figure get smaller and smaller. the oddest thing of it all, you don’t show your face to him at all since the test scores has been posted. he’d rather die than admit he missed your presence to anyone—your banters, nudging each other in quiet retaliation, and the time spent on the rooftop trying to study. anaxa would rather swallow a thousand needles than openly admit he felt jealous of his junior–the school athlete–and how you always seem to get coffee with him every morning. wasn’t that your thing with him?

 

“pray tell,” you flinch at the voice–failing to pack up your things quick enough to avoid anaxa who frequented the small cafe near campus. “why is it that you find the time to pick up coffee with our junior, but not me?”

if you were any other student, you’d think he sounds jealous—but that was a ridiculous thing to think. anaxa, jealous? you’re very sure the only emotion he’s ever felt in his life were spite and pride. as if to insinuate that you’ve actually replaced him with your usual routine, you ignore him. fight the twitch of your lips when anaxa visibly frowns at your silence. though a part of you—a tiny, tiny part—does feel a bit guilty. you weren’t one for the silent treatment, but anaxa deserved it. (you try to convince yourself at least).

“look if this is about the test scores, i’m…”

you walk past him but before you can fully exit the establishment, anaxa is running after you and catching your wrist with a firm grip. you turn to glare but the initial pettiness that fueled your heart quickly evaporates into thin air when you see his expression. lips pursed into a thin line, eye darting here and there–avoiding yours at all cost–and posture rigid but not in his usual secretary way; he looked almost vulnerable.

“i… apologize, for always belittling you whenever exam seasons are over. believe me, my intentions weren’t to bring you down. i just…” he trails off. a heavy frustrated sigh leaving his lips as his other hand comes to cover half of his face in shame. “wanted you to continue competing with me.”

by the following day, it was anaxa avoiding you like a plague. you still get coffee with phainon every morning, but today, you bought an extra cup—medium, iced, with only two teaspoons of sugar. the snowy-haired boy questioned you but you only replied with a cryptic “it’s a sorry gift.” he dropped the topic with a hum. you have a faint idea that phainon already knew who you were talking about.

the two of you separate on the second floor of campus—phainon heads straight to his classroom while you make a beeline to the council office. you rise up to the stairs in quiet contemplation on how to give anaxa his usual cup of coffee. with you being so lost in thought, you don’t realize that you’re now standing face to face with the classroom door. if you take a quick peek at the crack, you’d see anaxa with his head leaning back the chair he sat on with a book covering his face. you chuckle in amusement and as quietly as you could, tip-toe your way around the desk and place the coffee cup right by his notes. you graciously pull off a piece of sticky note and wrote down a short message before sticking it on the book on his face before leaving.

when the door finally closes shut, anaxa carefully removes the book obscuring his vision and takes the note you had written. ‘sorry for avoiding you! no matter what, you’re still my rival. remember to always take care of yourself, okay?’ anaxa snorts in amusement as he takes the cup of coffee in his hand, swirling the liquid before taking a sip. you still remember how he likes his coffee.

✶ : MYDEIMOS

if phainon was the cute junior that reminded you of a puppy and anaxa was the annoying bird that’s always perched on your shoulder, then mydei is that intimidating class president who quietly cares for his class. admittedly, you, among many others, had the wrong impression of him on your first meeting. initially, you assumed mydei was the type of student who always picked fights with other students and got into trouble with the student body. he does do those things—you see him butt heads with phainon during pe class and see aglaea scolding him during meetings every now and then. but nothing can prepare you when you first ask him for notes.

to say it’s a nerve wrecking situation would be an understatement—you were shaking in your shoes as your classmates cheered you on. with one final sigh, you find his contacts on your phone and repeatedly draft a message, delete it, then start over again and again until you grow frustrated and give up for the time being. you throw a defeated expression at your classmates and promise them to ask mydei for the notes later today. the school festival has been taking up so much of everyone’s time that you can’t find enough time to actually pay attention and write down notes in class. everyone was either sleeping or dozing off with exhaustion and you were no exception. you were sleeping during the first two periods of class and they each had their respective quiz some time this week.

you massage your temple in stress as you mumble about how you can ask mydei about his notes.

“what about my notes?”

you freeze on your spot. the hand massaging your temple rigidly drops back to your side as you awkwardly smile at the only person who can help your entire class pass manifests into thin air. 

“uh… well, you see…” you fumble with the words on your tongue and curse yourself inside your mind for appearing nervous. you just want to ask if he had taken notes during the first and second period, simple right? wrong!

you shift in your spot uncomfortably, eyes falling to the floor and to your shoes to avoid his burning gaze while your hand rubs at your arm—a nervous tick you developed over the years. you open your mouth to finally reply but the feeling of something soft hitting you in the head has you looking up and meeting his gaze by accident. you don’t miss the quiet amusement that courses through him as you stumble to grab the stack of papers he graciously put on your head.

“if you wanted to borrow notes, you could have just said so. it’s not like i’m going to bite your head off.” his voice is stern but if you listen closely, you’ll realize there’s an undercut of playfulness in them as you beam at him.

“thank you so much, mydei!” you express your gratitude as he shakes his head in disbelief.

“go share them with the class, i still need to catch up with the council on something.”

mydei turns to leave but you call out to him. he slightly turns his head to look at your almost flustered smile, “what is it?”

you hold his notes close to your chest as you grin at him, “thank you, really! you don’t understand how much everyone needs these right now.”

he huffs in response and waves you goodbye and you turn to run back to your classroom to spread the good news that no one will be failing this year.

when mydei enters the council meeting with the other class representatives, castorice greets with a curious tilt of his head—she questions the smile on his face as he sits down at his usual spot but he only shrugs it off. mydei plays it off as finding something funny on the internet, which was strange. mydei rarely finds anything funny, let alone if they came from the internet.

he takes tentative sips from the coffee agalaea had generously provided for everyone, and he doesn’t miss the way a pair of eyes follow his every movement. he catches phainon from one corner staring at him with furrowed brows as he twirls the pen in his fingers while the council secretary at the front scowls at him. you may not remember, but back in middle school, when no one wanted to share a table with the delinquent, you sat next to him without question and offered him a spare pen when you realized he didn’t have one. to this day, mydei still use that pen even if the ink had long run out—he just wants to show off the item with your name on it.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[alotofpockets]

I don't need you to fix me | Alexia Putellas x Reader

5k celebration prompt: "I don’t need you to fix me, I just need you to hold me."

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.3k

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Alexia was behind the wheel humming to the song that was playing in the car. Her eyes focussed on the road, as she was driving you both to the stadium. You on the other hand were quietly staring out the window, not looking forward to going whatsoever.

You had been out with an injury for the past month, and to say it had been a struggle was an understatement. The recovery time wasn’t supposed to be this long, but you had some setbacks. 

When Alexia noticed, she put her hand on your leg and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay to not feel fine all the time. You know you can talk to me right? I know what you’re going through.” You turn to her and give her a quick tight lipped smile before staring out of the window again.

You knew that Alexia was just trying to help, but while she had been injured not too long ago herself, she didn’t know what you were feeling. She didn’t know because you had not told her about what was going on inside your head every time that you would head to training together, and she would get to go onto the pitch and train with the team, while you felt left behind in the gym on your own with the trainers.

The way they would get back inside laughing together, and having big smiles upon their faces from having a fun session together. While you were inside, working your ass off to get back out there, but setback after setback kept you inside and away from the game that you loved.

You tried putting on a brave face every time your teammates were around, but with Alexia it was different. You lived together, you slept in the same bed, sometimes there was no hiding your feelings from her, no matter how hard you tried. 

She had seen you cry more than once, always offering words of comfort. Speeches about how recovery is a tricky process, but how it would pay off in the end. Reminding you of her own recovery time, and the steps she had to take. She was always trying to fix the situation and you let her go on with it even though it was not helping you. You understood Alexia’s need to want to fix things, she loved you and her words came from love. Just sometimes you wish that she would ask what you needed instead of giving you what she had needed herself.

Alexia parked the car once you got to the stadium where the girls would play in a few hours. It was a home game, so you’d be in the stands with a couple of the other girls that weren’t playing tonight. 

Your girlfriend put her arm around your shoulder after she grabbed her bags, “This should be a good game, no?” You smiled, it would be and you were glad Alexia was looking forward to it, you just really wish you could have been on the pitch with her to enjoy it. “Yeah for sure.” You tried to push away the disappointment.

“If I score tonight I will dedicate it to you.” Alexia said proudly, knowing she would give her all to get you that goal tonight. You appreciated the gesture, but in your mind all you thought was I want to be the one to score a goal. Instead of voicing that thought, you say, “That would be sweet.” Another smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes added with it.

True to her word, Alexia found you in the crowd after she scored and blew a kiss your way. It really was a cute gesture and for a moment you let yourself forget that you wanted to be on that pitch yourself, and be happy for the girls and Alexia for getting another goal, but as you sit down again and watch the girls in their celebratory huddle, the negative thoughts creep back in.

While the energy at the stadium had been high, Alexia happy and jumping around with the team after the win, the car ride back was quiet. Alexia seemingly understood that you were not in the mood for a cheery car ride. 

The second you get home, you kick your shoes off to be dealt with later. “I’m gonna head to bed.” Alexia nods, “I will join you soon.” Alexia wanted to join you, because she felt like you needed someone around, but she still had to take a shower. 

You quickly get changed, and lay down under the covers, hoping for them to give you some comfort. All you wanted was to fall asleep, so your mind could turn off for a bit. Sleep wasn’t coming for you though, no matter how tired you were.

When you heard Alexia come to the room, you quickly turned to your side and pretended like you were asleep. You loved her so much, but you could not handle another one of her speeches right now.

Alexia walked in quietly, careful to not wake you. She slid into the bed beside you, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, “Goodnight cariño.” She whispered. The softness in her tone almost made you want to turn around, but you knew that if she tried making your injury feel less tonight that you would break down right then and there. 

She fell asleep quickly, but an hour later, you were still staring at the ceiling, wide awake. Finally you had enough, and carefully moved out of the bed, not wanting to wake your girlfriend. 

You don’t know how much time you spend sitting on the couch in the dimly lit room, but eventually you hear footsteps nearing. Alexia walks in and looks you over for a moment. The light from the lamp post outside shining in, casting a soft glow over your face. She can see the tiredness on your face and her heart falls seeing you like this.

“You know what helped me sleep when I was-

“I don’t need you to fix me.” You say in frustration, and Alexia’s eyes widen slightly, not having expected you to talk to her that sharply. You hadn’t meant to snap at her, but it was exactly what you knew would happen if she would try to fix it again. You continue softer this time. “I just need you to hold me.”

Alexia stood there a moment before her expression softened. Without another word, she moved towards you and sat down beside you. She gently wrapped her arms around you and pulled you into her. 

The moment your head laid against her, the tears started rolling down your cheeks. For the first time since you got injured, she didn’t try to tell you it would get better. She didn’t remind you that you were strong and would be back on the pitch in no time. No, she just held you, and let you get your feelings out, while she was rubbing her hand in a soothing motion onto your back.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered after a while. You sat up and let her wipe away your tears. “Don’t be. I know you meant every word in a good way, but it just wasn’t what I needed. But I should’ve told you that earlier.” 

Alexia shook her head, “You’re right to feel however you need to feel. But now I know what you need, and I will always be here to hold you. I promise.” With that you lean back into her side. The negative thoughts might still be running through your head, but at least they were a little more bearable with Alexia’s arms around you.

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[pythonmoth]

cw: FLUFF. social anxiety. self-imposed exposure therapy (pls never do that!). cute and then not so cute, but cute again! panic attack. dissociation. reader is traumatized and inconsistent. implied sexual activity, nothing explicit. simon is a whiny little bitch. slightly styled text.

primary simon x f!reader. poly tf141.

word count: 4k

First | Last | Next

Having breakfast with Johnny, with the team, wasn’t something you realized you’ve been missing.

It fits right in your heart, filling a hole you didn’t know has been empty.

So many years have gone by and little things like this usually go ignored until you’re forced to be aware of them and their absence. Maybe it’s therapy; maybe it’s that you’ve gotten used to being alone after nine months, only relying on your brother for a few months and then being on your own, but breakfast with the people you’ve called your family for nearly ten years now, it’s something your body accepted as necessary once you got it back, only then understanding how much you’ve been missing it.

Once everybody’s tummy is filled with tea, coffee and good food, they take turns to shower, one by one leaving to get ready until it’s only Simon and you. He looks far more relaxed than the day before, his eyes warm as he nods when you talk, telling him about how you’ve been planning to remodel a little, maybe change the paint of the exterior or even add some flowers to your backyard. Now that you’re forced to stay home, there are things that you want to change so it looks prettier when you come back. 

You don’t miss the way his right cheek jumps, as if he’s trying not to grimace; you know it isn’t a happy memory for anybody, but you’re glad he isn’t trying to shut it down, and merely accepting it as it is. Same as you are.

“Do you know if Tommy is available? I might have to call him up, since I can’t reach everything on my own. He’s the closest one to a professional I know, anyway” you hum, your fingers entertained as they rip apart a sugar packet, your eyes not leaving it for a moment.

“My brother? I think so. I can ask him to contact you” Simon mumbles. You look up when you notice how unhappy he sounds. He’s… pouting.

“What?”

Simon frowns, seemingly unsure if he should speak up or not. In the end, just when you’re starting to overthink and overanalyze everything you’ve said and done to get him to look like his, he finally looks up.

“I’m… I am available. I could help you” he grunts. “I’ve helped him at work before and I can get it done as quickly as he can” Simon rushes, as if he couldn’t help it. “With the right tools, perhaps even faster”.

When you go quiet, he shuts up. You’re hyper aware of his eyes on you as you look down at the ruined sugar packet in your fingers, biting down on your lip. It’s not that you don’t know he helps Tommy sometimes, it just felt like a safer question.

In the back of your mind, you think back to something your therapist mentioned as a possibility, something that could help you with the PTSD, though she said it wasn’t time nor a good idea for you yet. That was five months ago and, really, neither of you mentioned it again. Maybe…

Exposure therapy. It should be okay.

After all, what’s the worst that can happen? It’s just Simon.

“Wait, I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. I can just call him and—”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay” you interrupt him, your eyes twinkling a little. “If you’re free… we could start today, buy a few things. Please?”

And so, when the morning comes to an end, Price, Gaz and Johnny say their goodbyes, only Gaz and Price coming over to kiss your cheek and pat your head. Johnny gives you a bright smile and a promise to come over later. Price makes sure you remember his number, just in case. Gaz cups your cheeks, kissing your forehead loudly before he walks out the door with Price.

Johnny kisses Simon briefly before they leave, Gaz playfully gagging behind them. You see him, however, getting nudged by Price, both of them looking quite content; surely, there was a conversation you weren’t part of. The sun is high up as the car disappears from sight, some part of your heart wishing they could stay longer, but this will be good.

You hope so, at least.

Then, it’s only Simon and you.

It takes you fifteen minutes to get ready, and another ten minutes for you to stop looking in the mirror, reminding yourself that you’re not going alone. You don’t have to double check behind you, you’ve nothing to fear. But, the reminder that is Simon who’s coming with you, brings an unwelcome feeling at the base of your spine.

It’s somewhat irrational, you’re aware. But it’s still scary, and it doesn’t make it less real.

Taking a deep breath, you nod to yourself in the mirror, and step back, hastily putting away your makeup and promising yourself you’re going to clean the few-weeks-old dust from it when you’re back.

Your guts flip when you realize the sun’s already coming down, and it makes you feel insane that you can’t even focus on things like that; why would you be unsure of how long you’ve spent spacing out? That’s something else to mention the therapist, maybe.

Simon’s waiting in the living room when you come down, his face relaxed and his eyes fixed on his phone. His leg betrays him, however, because you can tell he’s been waiting, anxious. When he hears you, Simon gets up, checking his pockets to make sure he has everything and gives you a thumbs up, gingerly walking towards you.

“You ready?” he asks, his expression inviting, as if giving you an out. He looks just as anxious as you feel, and that makes you feel a little better.

Reaching into your bag, you make sure you have your knife and the spare knife, before nodding at him. As you both make your way out and into the car, you also pat the left pocket of your jeans. 

Pocket knife is a must, sometimes.

Buying the paint isn’t nearly as boring as you thought it would be. 

Simon makes it his mission to keep you entertained, easily reading the anxiety in your body language; he talks.

He talks a lot. And quite easily, much to your surprise.

Simon tells you why the lighter painting is better, and why you shouldn’t go for the darker one in certain places of the house, and why grey is a hard no if you want your house to look good. The black surgical mask is almost funny with how much it moves over his mouth, but you focus on him, and soon enough, you’re less worried, talking more, smiling and laughing at his awful jokes.

Eventually, in the middle of one of Simon’s morbid comments —"Look, that ashtray would be a funny gift for Johnny, if you ask me. We could make him fit in there later. Do you think it would be cheaper if we tell them why we want it?"—, you find the perfect shade for the exterior of your house. Simon isn’t convinced, you can see it, but he doesn’t complain, only crossing his arms and tilting his head, as if calculating in his brain how much you’ll need. He’s been at your house many times, and knows it as well as you do.

Simon’s the one who asks for the paint and a few other tools, since you’re already aware he won’t let you carry it anyway. You hand Simon your credit card, and turn away, distracted with little light bulbs of soft white light that would look pretty good in your bedroom, so you don’t notice he doesn’t use your card to pay for it, but his instead. He doesn’t tell you either as he hands the plastic back to you and carries the bucket and the rest of the big tools to the car.

Just like a few days ago, you find yourself checking your surroundings, especially now that it’s dark. You keep the car locked as you check the back seats with your phone, making Simon wait a moment. After making sure it’s safe, you pat your left pocket to feel the knife there and quickly get inside, finally allowing him in as well. Maybe your therapist is right and you’re still jumpy, but it is dangerous out there anyway, and there’s nothing wrong with being paranoid careful.

The drive back home is pretty calm, your shoulders finally relaxing after nearly two hours of being on edge. Simon’s music blasts on the speakers, a little too loud to be safe, but you need the distraction, and the streets are pretty lonely at night so you only focus on it, mumbling the lyrics to yourself.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re home and carrying the little bag with tools, which is the only thing Simon will let you grab, and get inside. Not even bothering to turn back, you lock the door behind you and take your shoes off, letting Simon take the plastic bag from your hands so he can set everything by the back door.

“I’ll be up early. If you wanna help, make sure you’re up by 7am” Simon grumbles, yawning as he takes the mask off.

“I haven’t woken up at 7am in like… nine months. That’s too early”.

“Tough shit”.

With a happy feeling in your chest, you say goodnight and go up to your room, leaving Simon to get comfortable in the guest room. Neither of you mention it, but it’s implicit he won’t be staying in your room like he would if this were before. The stairs creak slightly when you pause, your hand over the handrail, looking down as he seems to hesitate before waving at you, making his way to the room.

Out of habit, and maybe feeling a little anxious, you lock the door before taking your heavy jacket off. Getting ready to sleep alone feels a bit odd now that Gaz isn’t laying in your bed, but soon enough, you’re fresh and clean, and ready to sleep.

A loud crashing sound makes you jump up, face wrinkled from the pillow and heart pounding in your chest. You make your way downstairs, nearly tripping over your bare feet, one of the long knives in your hand as you try to focus on whatever is happening. The sun hits your face from the back door, watching as Simon hisses and holds the bucket of paint up, a big splash of colour all over your wooden floor.

“What the hell are you doing?” you grunt, using the knife to scratch your forehead.

Simon looks up, his eyes widening as he takes in your appearance. He didn’t think he’d ever be given the opportunity to see you so messy in the morning, but here you are. He clears his throat and starts scraping up the paint before it dries. “I didn’t seal it and I kinda dropped it. It’s fine, I’ll clean it quickly”. He falters a little when he sees the knife in your hand, a little amused. “Are you gonna stab me for messing with your floors?”

“Maybe. Don’t tempt me” you huff, your shoulders relaxing. “Be back in ten. Don’t you dare use the skyscraper ladder without me”.

“Mhm”.

“You’re gonna break your neck if you do”.

“Heard ya” Simon grumbles, his lips curling up. “I’ll wait for you”.

The tone in his words makes your heart tremble, but your face betrays nothing. Excited to work on your house, and hoping the little challenge you're putting yourself through doesn’t end badly, you rush to get ready.

The toughest part of painting with Simon is getting the job done.

Simon doesn’t move until the edges are perfectly done. He accidentally touched something he shouldn’t have? He’s gonna spend as long as necessary to get the paint off. You’re doing it gently, slowly, so he doesn’t take the brush from you? You’re taking too long! And if you let him do it himself, then why are you sitting there all pretty while he does it all? In the end, you give him an annoyed look and he calms down.

But then, when the edges are done, and you have to use the roller? Now that’s fun.

Since it’s easier, he lets you do it yourself, one of his hands on your lower back so you don’t trip —if your heart is trembling a little, that’s none of his business. Though you’re not entirely sure if it's anxiety, or excitement—. Simon’s smiling now, guiding you with a lot more patience, chuckling next to your ear when you accidentally get paint over your hands, and some tiny, little drops on his hair.

“I’ll make something to eat after we finish the first layer” Simon promises, guiding your arm with his warm hand; a simple caress from your elbow to your wrist as he points to the little places that are missing some love, as he calls it.

It doesn’t take you both long to finish the first layer, though it is more than you expected, since Simon kept coming back to perfect the edges and some little mistakes you couldn’t even notice, but you appreciate his enthusiasm, so even if it can be a little annoying, you don’t really complain.

Simon cooks something “simple” that allows you both to take two hours off, letting the paint dry properly. With both of you working together, his movements less sudden than they were the last morning —especially with the knife, which you can appreciate—, you end up just eating on your feet, both of you in the kitchen, not even using the plates and eating straight from the pot. 

Feeling lazy to clean up after this, you reach out for a single glass, lifting your eyebrow at him. Simon nods, taking it from you to pour some cold water for the two of you.

You can tell his eyes are fixed on the little mark your lip balm leaves on the glass and the way he drinks from the exact same place, but you’re easily distracted by food, so it doesn’t cross your mind to call him out for it. It’s something he used to do a lot back then, so you’re not surprised, but… it’s a little funny, honestly.

A few hours later, Simon’s on your ass again. The stupid edges are making both of your eyes twitch and your annoyance grows with each comment about how you’re doing it wrong. He isn’t even mean, but it’s so fucking annoying it makes your blood boil, your guts churning with murderous intent.

When he fucking whines that you’re not doing it as straight as it should be, you just can’t do it anymore. Your hand reaches down to the painting tray and, when your palm is dripping, you don’t give him a moment to understand what you’re doing before you place your hand right across his face, paint getting to his hair, his forehead, his nose and temples.

“Whom do you serve?”

Simon stares at you in shock.

You have exactly two seconds to run away when you see him reaching down for one of the brushes. 

He catches up to you in just a moment, the cold brush getting paint all over your old shirt, as if he were slashing a sword across your back. You shriek, still trying to get away, but Simon’s determined now, an arm wrapping around your waist to hold you against him. “You little shit” he grunts, amusement dripping from his voice as clearly as the paint does from the brush.

“Wait!” you yelp, laughing when Simon runs the cold paint across your face, forcing your lips close for a moment as the coarse bristles run over your cheeks.

“See? Better” he laughs, his hand splaying on your stomach before he finally lets go. Your skin tingles when his warmth slips away, but then you turn around to huff at him, and notice the bright, rare smile splitting Simon’s face in two, so you end up tackling him to the ground instead.

You’re rewarded with his flushing face, a loud bark of laughter coming from deep in his belly as he doesn’t even try to stop you. You scoop the dripping paint from your cheeks with your fingers and wipe your hands clean on his hair, his shirt. The paint seems to glow over his flushed cheeks.

A loud yelp of surprise echoes in your backyard when Simon easily flips you around, one of his hands pinning your wrists to the soft grass as he uses the brush to paint ridiculously big dots all over your shirt and arms. Your entire body shakes with amusement, laughing with no inhibitions, until you try to free your wrists from his grip.

And you c a n ’t mo ve.

Your mind fills with awful memories, with pain, fea r, salt wa ter, and pain. 

Pain. Pa in. One finger nail. Five fi ngerna ils.

Th r ee toe na il s.

You suddenly freeze, zoning out. You don’t even notice Simon’s holding you up, carrying you back inside as he mumbles, whispering soft promises. His hands are gentle and warm as he wipes the paint off your face, doing his best not to get much water on your skin, but you aren’t listening, your body is rock solid and your jaw is so tight he can’t even make sure you’re not biting down on your tongue.

When you wake up, you’re in your bed.

Your skin is clean, and there’s a soft towel under you that’s now a little dirty with paint; you’re still wearing the same clothes from this morning. It takes you a little moment to remember why you’re here, and look down at your wrists. 

Right.

The sound of water running from downstairs makes you get up, taking the towel off your bed. You set it over your chair by the desk and walk downstairs, your cheeks warm with embarrassment when you see him in the kitchen. The lights are low so you can’t really see his face, but you can see his slumping shoulders, the tension on his nape and the twitching of his mouth.

“Simon?”

He nearly drops the glass when he hears your voice, but he manages to catch it just in time, freezing as he stares up at you.

He’s still covered in paint, including the mark of your hand across his face. The sight of him looking so worried and still giving you those big puppy eyes behind all that completely dry paint…

“I’m sorry”.

Simon’s lips part, the words heavy on his tongue. His eyebrows seem unsure if they should be surprised or angry, because they jump and pinch together at the same time. He lets the glass aside and walks over to you, stopping just a few steps from you, his shoulders trembling.

“Sorry? You’re— sorry? What the hell are you even apologizing for? That was my fault. I scared you, again” he mumbles, tears welling up in his eyes, even if he desperately tries to stop it, swallowing thickly and shaking his head. “I am sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It slipped my mind and I fucked up”.

You reach up to touch his shoulder, but Simon steps back, flinching away from you. Your heart breaks, your lips parting in surprise, but Simon’s too gone with guilt that he doesn’t realize it. Distantly, you wonder if this is what he’s felt this whole time. You wonder how many times you’ve broken his heart by now.

“I’ll just— I’ll call Tommy tomorrow. I’ll tell him to help you with the rest, so you don’t have to be around me for now. That will be easier” Simon mumbles, mostly to himself, his eyes darting from one place to another, avoiding your eyes. “Just let me grab my stuff. I can leave in ten minutes. I won’t bother you, I promise, I—”

Taking a quick step forward, your arms wrap around his middle, closing your eyes as you navigate through the complicated feelings growing in your chest. A little bit of fear as you feel him so close again, the panic still not gone from your system, but the love makes you weak on the knees; even like that, you don’t let go of him, your arms tightening around him when you hear him breathe shakily.

“I’m alright” you whisper, your fingers curling on his shirt, almost pleading. “Don’t leave”.

Simon’s heartbeat pounds against your ear, his arms still hovering over you, hesitant. And scared.

“Please”.

That’s all it takes for Simon to sink to his knees, gently bringing you down with him, his arms never restraining you, merely holding you close. His hands splay across your back, your sides. You grip onto him harder when you feel his tears running down your shoulders, shifting until you’re straddling his lap, his face buried in your chest as he cries in complete silence, your fingers lost in his hair.

“I love you. I’m sorry” he whispers, his voice muffled with your skin. You think he’s going to pull back, but his hands only curl slightly on your arms, your sides, one of your thighs, as if he were grounding himself.

As if he couldn’t believe you were holding him again.

The ball of feelings in your chest unravels until you’re able to slowly identify them as you both hold each other right there in the middle of the kitchen. His hands brush over your back, fingernails scratching softly over your skin, and you’re reminded of good memories, of better times; of the moment you realize you were in love with him, of the ridiculous moment he asked you to be together. Of the night Johnny joined you for the first time, of the instant you understood your own feelings, Johnny's, and Simon’s. 

You’re reminded of the night you saw Price and Simon share a fervent kiss before disappearing into the Captain’s room, more than once. And then when you saw Gaz and Price do the same over the years, even if they never freely spoke of it. 

The memories of that experimental kiss with Price, back in your first year with the team haunts your memory for a moment; both of you had paused after a while and grimaced. In the end, Price had given you his chocolate and you gave him your tea flavored mochi, the kiss forgotten and never spoken of again. 

At some point, your arms relax around Simon, but he doesn’t seem in the mood to pull away, even if his grip isn’t even too tight. It takes a little bit of nudging, a few whispered words, but he finally pulls back, his face puffy and slightly wet with tears, staring at you.

“Sleep with me?”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, it seems; his hesitation appears to be long gone as his arms easily hold you up, calmly throwing you over his shoulder. That would’ve broken the tender moment, if it weren’t for the warm hand over your back holding you still, and the shaky fingers gripping onto your thigh again as he walks up to your room.

Simon hesitates, but you kick back on your door, hurrying him up. Once inside, he sets you down, waiting by the door.

“Are you... expecting me to kick you out?”

“Yes”.

Your lips curl up, forever glad he never holds back with you, and motion him to get in. 

The anxiety doesn’t magically leave your body, and you’re still awfully terrified of him being able to just restrain you so easily again, but… progress.

It’s progress when he curses and rushes down to grab his clean clothes and a towel, asking you to let him take a shower after you’re done.

It’s progress when Simon lays in your bed, body stiff and hands shaky as he waits for you to turn the lights off.

It’s progress when you both awkwardly find a good position to sleep.

It’s progress when you wake up in the morning with his arms wrapped around you, your legs tangled, and one of your hands under his tshirt, warm against the bare skin of his back.

And it’s progress when you’re greeted with a small, sleepy smile from him before his eyes even focus properly on you.

henlo. how are we feeling? progress!!! progress!!! PROGRESS!!!

› buy me a coffee ♡

anyway, simon's autistic bc i am autistic and he's a whiny little bitch perfectionist!

if things go well, we have 8 chapters left :)

+18 people read here: yes, price and simon still fuck nasty from time to time. nobody gasped, nobody surprised.

taglist I: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic @silas-fanfic-favs @nina-from-317 @an-ever-angry-bi @kittygonap @adventurerabby @defronix @sheepispink @iambuttwodaysold @blackhawkfanatic @malevolentghoul @thriving-n-jiving @literallegendicon @echo9821 @angel-bugz @ssc7514 @clickbait-official @hades--baby @blackhawkfanatic @sirbonesly @saki---chan @skeletonsucker @nnsissys @kukavittu @tessakate @honestlymassivetrash @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @rayrayyio @diseasedclitoris @alex1011sdzfgh @thebumbqueen @hyunjaebaby @jillvalentinesrealwife @sodavrr @kneelforloki @vioxsoo @l4vstrr @leon-thot-kennedy @t3a-bag @dotmistbird @littlezarp @eclipsedcherry @codeseven @babydoll-143 @viennakarma @exitingmusic @lockofspades

[leah-lover]

A lap for love. Leah williamsonx F1!reader.

Part 1 part 2

Summary: when F1, football, money, parties, long distances, and relationships collide. Misery occurs.

    Monaco, money, speed, and danger are words synonymous with F1. Everybody talks about courage, competitions, cutthroat dynamics and the luxury of the game and how lucky we are to be a part of it. For the most part they are faithful to reality. F1 is an incredibly  exclusive luxurious adrenaline inducing game that revolves around being perfect all the time or else you get hated on for every breath you tackle.F1 fans are brutal. Unless you are on the podium or winning every race, you will be burnt at the stake. Especially if  you are a part of a team as successful as mercedes. Being a woman doesn't help either. You have the weight of an entire gender resting on your shoulders. If you fail it will be another 4 or 5 years before they let another woman compete again. So losing isn't an option at all. 

Having that kind of pressure takes a toll on one’s mental health. This case sucks even more because of all the traveling you do and the fact that your girlfriend is a very busy English footballer. With time zones always being against you, you started to drift from your girlfriend and the distance between you two grew with each race. You missed her presence, laughter, banter,and weird diet. You longed for her kisses,  the way she made your body feel, the way she made all your worries disappear with a single look from her eyes. no body from the team noticed your light dim because you were good at hiding it. What they didn't miss was the parties you started to frequently host and attend. If you were not at training or the gym, you were in a club surrounded by sweaty bodies trying to feel something remotely close to what leah made you feel. You didn't drink much if at all you were just filling your life up with people so that you wouldn't feel the void of Leah not being there with you. 

Leah noticed this sudden change in your demeanor and she didn't know where it came from. She first became suspicious of all the stories clubs and party goers would post of you hanging  out with them. When she asked you about it you brushed it off as necessities of the job but she wasn't convinced. The partying kept going on and Leah became more and more suspicious as the distance between you grew bigger. You wished you could tell her how much you needed her but that wouldn't change anything. You were still travelling, racing around the world and putting on stellar performances, winning your team an impressive amount of points while she was playing football in London. Each point you gained shipped away at your soul and at your relationship. 

With you becoming more famous, the public began paying more attention to your private life. Suddenly, everybody was sure you were dating your photographer. People talked about you two all the time. Photographed you together and asked you about each other. You didn't confirm the rumors but you didn't deny them either. You knew that being a lesbian would only hinder your progress in F1 and further strain your relationship with leah. 

Amidst all this drama your home race came at a much needed time. You were tired, homesick, and you needed to talk to your girlfriend. 

You didn't tell Leah you were coming, you lied to her in order to surprise her at the Emirates for the second leg of the champion’s league semi final. As always the atmosphere was electric but it wasn't enough for the team to win against the giant of french football.  Sadly, they lost after an impressive battle. The look of sadness on Leah's face broke you, you two were very tired and needed each other at that moment. You asked your contacts at the Emirates for a favour to be able to go to the locker room since nobody except a few teammates knew you were dating leah. 

The silence in the locker rooms was heard from afar in the hallway. You haven't seen your girlfriend in so long you were nervous but you knew you had to be there for her. The look of shock  on the girl’s faces when they saw you enter the locker room was something you didn't expect. But it was understandable since you were famous in Britain  and they didn't know the reason why you were there. But the look on Leah's face shipped away at your heart a little. She wasn't happy, she was disappointed. You brushed it off, said hello to the girls and told them how proud you are of them and of their performances. You then went to sit next to Leah's locker. Without a word she got up to the showers; the situation was awkward, but the girls didn't say anything. They kept on doing their thing and each one of them got out of the locker room leaving you and Leah as she got out of the showers last. She made an appearance that you had the locker room all to yourselves. 

“ Why  are you still here?” she said emotionlessly. 

“ where would i be if not here. I wanted to be there for you. This loss is brutal.” you replied. You didn't get up to her and she didn't come to you. 

“ Thank you for coming. But I can't do this today. I don't have it in me.” she replied. 

“ What do you mean?” you asked confused the two of you still not moving an inch. 

“ I don't wanna fight with you, I don't want to put on an act that I am happy you are here. I just want to go home and sleep.” 

“ Are you not happy to see me? Leah, we literally haven't seen each other in months.” 

“ and what have you been doing all these months?” 

“ traveling the world working, representing England the entirety oàf women’s sport. What are you getting at?” 

“ Funny, I don't think getting drunk at clubs, dancing with women and models, avoiding your girlfriend and hurting her feelings is a part of your representation of women’s sports but if that’s what helps you sleep at night then go for it.”  She was gathering her things as was talking, then she headed straight to the door without looking at you. You ran after her but she wouldn't stop walking, you kept calling her name and begging her to stop but she wouldn't. She left you standing at the gate of the emirates and drove away. You saw the thread that connected your hearts stretch further. 

It only took you a few seconds to head to your car and follow her. Driving was your fortait so you arrived at her house before she did. When she was you another look of disappointment flashed across her face but she let you in and headed to her couch. 

“ I can't do this anymore. “ she said emotionlessly. 

“ no leah please we can work through this.” you begged as you kneeled in front of her. 

“ I can't keep doing this long distance thing. Our lives are so different. Our backgrounds are so different. You live in Monaco even if the season is over. I can't leave London. My whole life here is my job. I share my family with her. It will never work between us because the distance is too big. I feel more pain than I feel love from you.” 

“ That's not true. I can relocate from Monaco. I can come back and live here with you and support you. You can come to me in  your off season and we can find a way.” you say desperately and panicked. 

“ you can't live in london baby. This lifestyle of  yours is so different from mine we can't ever find something that would satisfy us bith. This relationship is not worth losing the thing you have worked your whole life for.” 

That last sentence broke something in you. Leah was convinced of her argument and you didn't have a rebuttal that would convince her. You two were tired and overstimulated and sad. You chose to do the right thing and leave before hurtful things  could be said. 

“ Silverstone, the great race of britain. The British driver’s most important race this time around with Lewis Hamelton in pole position lets see who will win.” said the commentator as the lights turned green. You were in the fifth position and determined to win this race no matter what. Shortly after the lights went green y-ou gave it your all and pushed so hard you were now toe to toe with levee fighting for the podium. The race was sure to go to a British driver but you wanted it to go to you so that you could justify your decision and the risks you had taken that japratised your relationship. You kept pushing and pushing until the finish line was up ahead and Lewis was sure to take it all but she didn't as you crossed first with him talking behind. And that was it you won silverstone. 

After you parked your car you didn't leave. You stayed there for a minute contemplating everything that has led you to this pOINT; cheers were heard from all around and you knew people were happy with you which made the decision you choose to break your heart further. 

You got out of the car, celebrated with your team and sang the national anthem. However something looks off. You weren't happy. Your fake smile was easily detectable by Leajh who was watching the race with her parents at home. Her mom looked at her worrily and she looked at you the same through the tv. Your demeanor continued throughout the press conferences. Which made l:eah feel more guilty. For the first time, ahs wo,n the british grand prix but she couldn't celebrate it because her girlfriend broke up with her shortly before. Leah continued to stalk you through instagram but you weren't anywhere. No story, no party. She called your manager to ask about your whereabouts. 1 hour later she found herself in front of a mansion in the countryside of london. 

The place was grand, luxurious. It screamed wealth relaxation and domesticity. Leah didn't know what she was walking into. She knocked on the door and a few moments later you emerged in an arsenal hoodie and great sweatpants. 

“ you won silverstone congratulation.” she said.

“ Thank you.” you replied. It was evident from our face that you were crying. 

 “ Can I come in?” she asked and you let her in. 

Leah kept walking until she found the living room. “ You seemed off today.” she stated. 

“ gee i wonder why?” you joked." Do you like this house?” you added. “ yeah i do.” 

“ I bought it for us. I finalized the offer before I came to london. That day i came to the stadium, i was gonna bring you here and show you what i did and ask for you forgiveness for being an asshole lately. But you jumped the gun and broke up with me.” you sat down looking at the floor. “ Our relationship is hard, you are right but I can't live without you. I won't live without you. You are the reason I am who I am. I survived the crash last year for you. I need you, Leah. I don't just want you. You are the only family I care about.” tears were streaming down your face which leah thumbs wiped as he sat down next to you. 

“ This will be our home. It's a little more than an hour from your training grounds. It's big enough for us to host your family and friends. We can have kids here and we can grow together comfortably. Leah, I will be happy to be your housewife, and your WAG . I will be happy to leave Formula 1 to save our relationship. “ You hold Leah's hands, assert her, and sturdy her face and she panics. 

Will this be the end of your legendary formula one journey. 

[paucubarsisimp]

Reader finding out that Pedri sprays her perfume on his pillowcase and bed shirt before away games because he misses her and the smell reminds him of her 🥺

spray of love

pairing: pedri x reader

summary: basically the request

warnings: none!

tagged: @barcapix, @universefcb, @joaosnovia, @nngkay, lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

it was a busy day at the stadium. the game had just finished, and the team was making their way to the locker room. you had stayed behind a bit to talk to a few of pedri’s teammates, including ferran and gavi, who always found a way to keep things light.

you were chatting with them, laughing about a ridiculous play from the match, when ferran, with that signature mischievous grin, decided to drop a bomb.

“so… have you noticed anything strange about pedri’s clothes when he comes back from away games?” ferran asked, leaning casually against the wall.

you raised an eyebrow, curious. “what do you mean?”

gavi snickered, leaning in to add, “you know how he always smells like you when he gets back? like, every time. his shirt, his pillow… it all smells like your perfume.”

you blinked, a little confused. “wait, really?”

“oh yeah,” ferran said, practically grinning from ear to ear. “the guy sprays your perfume on his pillowcase and shirts before every trip. says it helps him feel like you’re there with him when he’s away.”

your heart did a little flip at the thought, and you stared at the two of them. “are you serious?”

“completely,” gavi replied, now fully laughing. “we noticed it when we went on a trip last month. he kept talking about how your scent was the only thing that made him feel better when he was away. he’s basically obsessed.”

ferran shrugged. “i think it’s sweet, honestly. he’s a little too shy to tell you, but we all know about it.”

you were a little speechless, your mind racing. pedri had been carrying a piece of you with him all this time without you knowing. you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. it was honestly one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for you.

“you’re telling me… my perfume is his good luck charm?” you asked, half-laughing, half-melting inside.

gavi nodded, grinning. “he said it makes him feel like you’re there, even if you’re miles away. it’s adorable.”

ferran teased, “you should definitely give him a little surprise next time. maybe spray extra perfume on his pillow before his next game.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “i think i will. i think i’ll just spray it on everything.”

as you turned to walk toward the locker room to find pedri, gavi called after you. “he’s totally going to get embarrassed when you find out, just so you know.”

“don’t worry, i’ll make sure to make him extra embarrassed,” you replied with a sly smile.

a little while later, you found pedri in the locker room, looking tired but happy after the match. as soon as he saw you, a soft smile spread across his face.

“hey, cariño,” he greeted, pulling you into a warm hug. you hugged him back, but you couldn’t resist the playful grin that tugged at your lips.

“hey, how was the game?” you asked, trying to sound casual, though your mind was still on what ferran and gavi had just shared with you.

“it went well,” he said, pulling back slightly to look at you. “glad to be back home, though.”

you nodded, but instead of answering right away, you stepped back, sniffing the air dramatically.

“hmm,” you said, tapping your chin, “i thought i smelled something familiar.”

pedri furrowed his brows, clearly puzzled. “what do you mean?”

“oh, i don’t know…” you leaned in closer to his shirt, taking a deep breath. “maybe my perfume? you’ve been wearing it a lot lately, haven’t you?”

he froze, his face turning an adorable shade of red. “uh… w-what? i—uh…”

you couldn’t hold it in any longer. you burst out laughing, both at the cute look of embarrassment on his face and the fact that he had been caught. “ferran and gavi told me everything, pedri. you’ve been spraying my perfume on your pillowcase and shirts so you can feel like i’m there with you.”

pedri’s face went even redder as he stammered. “i—I didn’t—gavi and ferran—”

you smiled playfully, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “it’s actually really sweet, you know? i didn’t think you were the type to do something like that.”

pedri’s eyes softened, his nervousness turning into a gentle smile. “only for you, cariño.”

you grinned, brushing your fingers against his chest. “well, next time, i’ll make sure to leave a little extra on your pillow for you.”

he smiled, still a little bashful but clearly touched. “i’d like that.”

and just like that, in the middle of the busy locker room, with the sounds of teammates laughing and celebrating in the background, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you—quiet, intimate, and a little sweeter than before.

don’t forget to leave a request!

[t1red-twilight]

masterlist s. r. masterlist blurbs

when you had left the scene you had thought you were okay, honestly. you hadn’t even noticed the stiffness in your leg until you were getting back into the suv. no one had noticed anything, and you figured that you were alright.

getting back on to the jet was a different story, however. the stairs proved to be very difficult with you stiff leg. spencer, who was behind you did take notice of your uneasy steps.

“are you okay?” he asked quietly, surely not to attract too much attention. you waved him off. “alright, if you say so.” his voice was assuring and non-accusatory.

you did, however, still feel the gentle caress of spencer’s hand on your lower back as he helped you up into the jet. you made sure to mumble a “thank you” to him as you sat down.

the relief you felt when you sat was immense and instantaneous. you tried to recall when you could’ve gotten injured, but the only thing you could think of was when you lost your balance and fell over. derek had pulled you up, only teasing a little.

the initial pain wasn’t that bad, so you thought that you’d be fine. maybe after the ride home you’d be good enough to walk to your car and get home.

the throb in your leg lulled long enough for you to get an hour or two of sure on the way back to quantico. by the time the jet landed, spencer was nudging you awake. you moved to grab your go bag and the rest of your things, but a pain shot up your leg.

your eyes closed in a wince and you stayed stationary for a few seconds. you felt spencer’s eyes linger on you for longer than you liked, so you grabbed your things and muscled through the pain. perhaps you had pulled a muscle or something?

you stood up and looked at spencer, forcing a smile. you motioned toward the exit and he raised a brow slightly. trying to make your gait as even as possible, you attempted to minimize any kind of limp that you might be showing.

spencer stood dangerously close to you. suddenly, you slipped a tad and another sharp sensation of pain flooded your nervous system. spencer caught you, his free hand grasped your forearm. you stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. “i thought you said you were okay?”

“i am,” you emphasized you clenched your eyes shut, waiting for the pain to subside. you took another deep breath.

“it sure doesn’t look like it,” spencer responded. despite his choice of words, he was far more sympathetic and not aggressive at all. luckily the rest of the team had left already, eager to get home and go to sleep.

you sighed, and shifted your weight to your good leg. “does it look bad?” you asked, only pouting a little.

spencer reached for your bag and chuckled at your sad expression. “no, just like you need to take an anti-inflammatory and lie down for a little.”

you reached for your things, but he pulled them out of your reach. “you don’t have to hold that,” you stated. he just shrugged.

spencer swung your bag over his shoulder, and placed his free arm around your waist to pull you up straight and help you walk. you put an ark around his shoulders to balance the weight. “i’ll take you to my place, if that’s okay. i’ll make you tea and get you some ibuprofen.”

[windixie]

the perfect pair ⟢ ch. 1 broken cd

satoru gojo x reader ꒰18+꒱ smut, angst, fluff

⟡ pairing . college au soccer player! gojo x alt! reader

› summary . in which opposites actually attract. you're not the kind of girl who seeks validation from anyone as your world is surrounded by indie films, music, and clothing. meanwhile, satoru lives in a completely different world from you. the campus soccer star who practically radiates confidence and popularity. but that doesn't stop satoru from attempting to throw himself at you, with his playful grins and teasing but loving comments. but before you can accept his advances, a certain party exposes who he truly is and now he is left determined to change himself for you.

› warnings ⓘ tags . 18+, fem! reader, smut, angst, fluff, college au (have syracuse university in mind), friends to lovers (reader hates him, he thinks otherwise), slow burn, jealousy, some suguru x reader because he doesn't respect bro code or wtv.

› wc . 1.1k

⟡ taglist . @unreleasedlana11

cd's are actually expensive.

well at least for you actually, only because you happen to listen to artists that are no longer active and have to buy discontinued cd's through sketchy websites that definitely overcharge. you couldn't judge though, easy money for the seller. your bank account disagrees.

you promise yourself that this will be the last cd you buy - till you're financially stable again. the disc nearly cost you 60 bucks plus taxes and shipping, 80.99. that greedy seller. regardless you were happy especially when you got the notification from the app telling you that your order has arrived.

at your college you had to walk all the way towards the front where the school mailboxes were located. the second you stepped foot outside your dorm, which, thankfully you had all to yourself because for some reason you weren't assigned a roommate, you are hit with the sound of cheering. the soccer team has just returned from a tournament.

including satoru gojo.

you knew of the boy. you knew he was the most known player in the school. and i'm not just talking about soccer. in each frat party he has to get in at least two bodies. he has a whole line of girls patiently waiting for their turn to warm up the white haired boys bed.

he's everything.. you hated in a guy.

how do girls go crazy over him? he's deadass the most basic boy you are sure each college in the state has. but you couldn't help but stay a bit to watch as all the boys make their way through the applauding crowd. a new face emerged from the bus, all looking proud. they must've won.

you were pulled away from your thoughts when his face appeared. suguru. he was best friends with gojo. you can't help but stare. his piercings, long hair, style that was different from the rest, just like you. it's hard to not notice him.

you almost don't realize who's looking at you instead. your eyes meet with satoru for a brief moment before you continue making your way to the central mail room, not allowing your brain to even process the eye contact.

as he made his way out the busy, satoru is met with a crowd of students cheering. he smirks as he kept the conversation going with his friends. he knows how attractive he is. not every one is 'blessed' to have a body count of half the schools girl population.

he knows how good he is. so why is it that when his eyes land on you, his heart skips a beat. he's never seen you before, why now? why does he like the way your hair frames your face so beautifully and the way your outfit compliments your body so well?

he felt his world stop for just a second when your eyes finally met his. a split second.

you unlocked your assigned mailbox after reaching the central. other students were there as well looking at letters from their family back at home or the same reason as you, a package. your eyes lit up as you took out the perfectly wrapped cd. .

not wasting one more second, you carefully unwrap it. here it is, finally in your hands after a month of waiting and two days worth of hard labor. the light reflected like heaven itself shining upon you from the glossy surface. you flipped it over, reading through the track list as you locked your mailbox once again not even bothering to check if there's any other letters in your box.

right as you turned, you bumped into something hard, causing your cd to slip from your hands, the sound of it hitting the floor haunting you.

it broke.

and so did your heart.

no. no way.

a month of waiting. money wasted. just for the cd to slip right out your hands.

okay you're being dramatic, it obviously didn't break. but the impact caused the case to open once it fell on the floor. the cd might just have a few scratches. one scratch is one scratch too many though.

"shit, sorry about that."

you lifted up your head to look at the one responsible for this.

satoru.

the satoru himself was in front of you giving you another reason to dislike him. he looked at you with his eyes widening a bit. its you. the girl he saw from earlier. he crouched down, placing his bag on the ground next to his feet to pick up your disc, carefully placing it back in the case. definitely not a band he was familiar with.

he handed it back to you, his hand touching yours slightly.

"here pretty, am sorry again."

your eyes narrowed. "It’s fine," you said, trying to keep your cool. "Not like you can fix it."

his eyes watched you push past him and they trailed past you until you were out of his view.

he finally got the chance to talk to you which he's been wanting to do since he's know you which was only like 20 minutes.

he couldn't help but smile to himself as he opened up his own mailbox, stuffed with fan mail.

a few scratches as you suspected. it shouldn't affect your listening experience.

you placed the now damaged disc in your cd player which was gifted to you by your parents on your sixteenth birthday. the music filled up your room in a nice and warm space.

you sank down on your mattress closing your eyes to enjoy the listening experience. no amount of scratched could ruin this.

they did.

your eyes shot open as the cd started to tweak out not even three minutes into the track list. guess the damage really was done. its all his fault. satoru gojo.

"no..please.." you begged taking out the cd to look at it again seeing that you missed a crack running right through it.

it was all his fault. you barely knew him but now that you had your first ever encounter you had all the reason to despise him. there's no way you will be able to listen to your 80.99 worth cd with there being glitching every other song.

you couldn’t shake the image of satoru standing there, his awkward attempt at helping, the way his gaze had softened for a brief moment. you'd make him buy you a new one, that being if the discontinued cd was even out there anymore.

what if you bought the last one ever?

you groaned into your pillow.

that's it you're throwing a bf.

a bitch fit.

[redcherrypies]

“if i go back nothing will be well, i won’t be well, i won’t be me” god i love lotties character so much, she would rather be alone in those woods than alone in that big luxorious house because at least she can be herself, she wont have to hide her medication anymore, she wont have to deal with her parents trying to “fix” her

“we’re safer here” and her looking upset when nat and some of the others don’t want to stay, the team that was her closest thing to family, sure she hid her struggles but they didn’t treat her differently like her family did, this is making me think they were much closer than what we see on screen because she acknowledges nats shitty home

of course it could just be an assumption because nat came to practice smelling like alcohol and everyone knew her as a burnout but i would like to think they confided in each other occasionally as someone who naturally is closer to people who have the same home life as me, good or bad

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

~*~

1. I’m going crazy looking for this fic! WWX, an OC, and a-Yuan time travel back to the CR era. Older WWX and the OC are romantically involved, but there’s implied Wangxian for the younger set. I think older WWX was trying to hide his identity. Anyone know it? 😭 @elegantgardencandy

FOUND? Through The Eyes of a Snake and a Crow by of_rivers_and_moons (T, 84k, WangXian, OC/WWX, JYL/JZX, WIP, Based off of a AngstyMDZSThoughts prompt, With A Twist, Time Travel, Arranged Marriage, Snakes, Canon Divergence, Jealousy)

~*~

2. There is a fic, (LWJ time travels I think, not sure) He subtlely manipulates WWX against the Jiangs. I forgot if he was older or same age as Wei Ying. There was a kiss scene in the cloud recesses Library, Jiang Yanli scolding him for spilling soup on Jin Zixuan and then apologising. It's not like stones on an unseen board. Jiang Yanli is not in Cloud Recesses in this fic. @sunshinesnow

FOUND? If only you knew (what goes on in my mind) by makexianxianhappytoday (G, 7k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Yunmeng Jiang Sect Bashing, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jiang Family Bashing, dark LWJ (but in a good way) <3, Protective LWJ, Oblivious WWX, Time Travel Fix-It, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, smug LWJ) For number 2 of the latest fic finder it sounds so familiar but it could also be a combination of the fic they said it wasn’t and this short fic. The soup spills on Wei Ying and Jiang Yanli ends up getting mad at him. But they’re all at Cloud Recess here. In their recollection was it at Lotus Pier or during war or where did Wei Ying spill the soup?

~*~

3. Hi team ! I have a request for the next fic finder. What I remember is that LW finds a little girl alone in a forest. He offers to take her home, and they find themselves in front of a barrier, which only those wearing a necklace can pass. The girl has one and she passes easily. LW can also pass because he shares the blood of the village chief, who is actually his maternal grandfather, of whom he knows nothing. LW thinks that the village is the ideal hiding place for the Wen and WY. Thank you ! @sweet-maemi

FOUND! Arbitrary by devinokaze (T, 137k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, but live somewhere else, hidden society, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, POV Multiple)

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4. Hello, I’m searching for a watching the movie type fic. What was special about this one was that this happened during the time Wei ying was dead. And then they did like all certain trials after they found out he was innocent to get him alive and they found out during this whole thing that Wei Ying was watching over then lan zhan and ayuan. @chloecov4506

FOUND? Misunderstood by Silver_Flame_2724 (M, 250k, WIP, WangXian, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Heavy Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Worth Issues)

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5. Hello! Thank you for your hard work!!!!

I'm looking for a fic where WY died and is thrusted back in time when he was a child. He decides to avoid the Jiang's and in the beginnings acts as a rogue cultivator I remember that he has a ghost lady companion and there was a Cultivation Conference where the rumors of a child (ghost/deity) is roaming about in the world and we could see a bit of Lan Queen perspective on the matter. I also remember that WY went to Carp Tower (but not the reason why) and JYL meet him there and felt that there was something missing in her family (I believe that she used the word glued, and that there was someone missing that glued them together).

I know that this is long, but I can't find it in AO3 and I'm searching all the pertinent tags and bookmarks.

FOUND? 🔒 Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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6. Hello can you help me find the fic where lan wangji made his heartbeat match wei wuxian’s own through meditation please…that’s all I can remember from it

FOUND? 💖🔒Silver & Gold by beeswaxing (E, 162k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Age Regression/De-Aging, Fix-It of Sorts, Post-Canon Fix-It, Family Bonding, Established Relationship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Literal Sleeping Together, Romance, BAMF WWX, Mutual Pining, Horny Teenagers, Underage Kissing, Protective WWX)

~*~

7. Hi! I am looking for a fic that I think was modern with magic. It was a soulmate au where, unbeknownst to WWX, Madame Yu had cursed him so that his soulmarks never appeared because she wanted WWX to feel unloved. I think it was a color soulmate au where people left colorful marks on their loved ones, but it also could have been something to do with constellations? I would love to read this again, thank you!

FOUND! leading tone by silencemostofall (G, 32k, WangXian, Modern AU, Soulmates, with a lil twist, Eventual Happy Ending, Music, Orchestra, [Podfic] Leading Tone by silencemostofall by Beria1021)

NOT FOUND! pastel by antebunny (G, 6k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Soulmates, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Self-Esteem Issues, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unrequited Love, but not actually, no courtesy names)

~*~

8. Hi! I'm looking for this a/b/o fic, honestly it might even have just been porn with no story. It was about wwx and lwj going to this clinic or something that matches up compatible alphas and omegas and they take a contraceptive before they have sex. But wangxian take one look at each other and both agree not to take anything. I just remember at the end they're telling an employee there and she's so confused why they didn't take it and tells wangxian that it's not the clinic's responsibility if wwx ends up pregnant

Thank you!

FOUND? Lucid by lazulink (E, 9k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Assigned Heat Partners, Strangers to Lovers Speedrun, Scenting, Nesting, Knotting, Mating Bites, Cunnilingus, Rimming, Humiliation, Blow Jobs, Breeding Kink, Spanking, Consensual Non-Consent, Consensual Somnophilia, Breathplay, Loss of Virginity, Light Dom/sub, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, PWP, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Intersex Omegas, Under-negotiated Kink, Implied Future Mpreg)

~*~

9. hi i know this is kinda insane but ive been searching for this fic since 2021 so all i remember is that wangxian are in university and they're roommates. so one morning wei ying woke up late to a class that require him some stationary or like he forgot it (cant remember the details) he doesnt have any so he decided to borrow from lan zhan who already gone to his own class, he was opening lan zhan's drawer on his desk to look for said stationary but found his journal/diary/notebook instead, he got curious i guess and decided to take a peek and realized soon enough that lan zhan was actually writing about him, and he read the page where basically lan zhan wrote how basically he wanted wei ying (cant remember if he wrote it in a diary kind of way or straight up writing smur fanfiction about them)

(also its not "sign me up for that full time, im yours" by elhana)

~*~

10. Hi! Can I please have some help looking for a fic I read ages ago, I'm 70% was wangxian. 😅

Canon Divergence before the Nightless city massacre; Wen Qing, Wen Ning, and Wei Ying go to the Unclean realm to ask Nie Mingjue to let them use the Nie medical room to heal Wen Ning and Wei Ying by getting rid of the resentful energy. Wei Ying plays to slowly remove the resentful energy while Wen Qing heals Wen Ning and he lives/comes back. Then Wei Ying has to stay awake and play to allow Wen Qing to heal his injuries from his fall into the Burial Grounds because the resentful energy was the only thing holding him together/keeping him alive. I remember Nie Mingjue and other Nie soldiers standing and watching horrified for both procedures, and that healing Wei Ying started from his legs up he had to pull the energy away from each limb while Wen Qing heals him.

I'm pretty sure it ended with the Wens moving into the Unclean realm and Lan Zhan finding out Wei Ying was there and insisted on staying to help him heal. @thequintessentialmuggle

FOUND? ❤️ three surgeries and a mercy kill by MarbleGlove (T, 11k, medical procedures, fix-it, Demonic Cultivation, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Self-Indulgent, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies)

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11. Hi I’m looking for a fic and can’t seem to find it anywhere, it was on ao3. It was set in the untamed universe, and started when Jin Ling stabbed wwx after him and lwj fled carp tower, and wwx got really sick bc it was raining and had an infection(?) the juniors were there as well and, and also a wangxian confession.

If you could find it then thankyou very much!!! @lan-xinyu-lan

~*~

12. Helloo, I can't seem to find this fic I've read a while back, it was wangixan, completed, set in university.

The plot was basically that wwx moved to a new uni and lwj is known for sleeping around there, but wwx doesnt know that and on his first night in the dorms they run into each other, wwx has alcohol which is forbidden so lwj tries to report him or something but they end up having a one night stand.

Lwj basically kicks wwx out in the morning, but they run into each other again at this martial arts? Class run by nmj and wwx tried very hard to befriend lwj again.

I don't remember any secondary ships aside from yanli and zixuan being married.

Yanli and lan huan are teachers at the uni in this fic and they end up having beef because their brothers keep hurting each others feelings

This is all i can remember, the rating was probably mature? But i am not certain.

Thank you sm @dcfangirl

FOUND! the earthquake in the room by phnelt (E, 39k, WangXian, College/University, Modern: No Powers, Canada, Getting Together, Mentions of lwj/others, background NieLan, background QingMian, inter-faculty romance, strangers to lovers to frenemies to lovers, mostly book characterisation, Background XuanLi)

~*~

13. Hello I'm looking for this one wangxian forbidden love fic I read a long time ago but the only thing I remember about it is that lwj is a pastor son and wwx is the local bad boy/troublemaker. It should be around 2020-2021-ish when I read it but I'm open if there is any different yet similar fic of the same nature/vibes. Thank you in advance!!!

FOUND? Mad about the Boy by TriviasFolly (M, 62k, WangXian, 1950s America, Greaser WWX, Historical Smoking, Historical Viewpoints, Angst, Internal Struggle, Pre-Relationship, Historical Homophobia, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, sexual awakenings, Sexual exploration, in which LWJ waxes poetically about dicks, small town gays, Self discovery journey, Self love journey, the excuse to have WWX smoke and wear a leather jacket, gay acadamia, teenage dramatics, smoll angst) I don't think this is the one they were looking for because it was published in 2023, but Mad about the Boy is set in 1950s America. Wei Ying is a greaser and Lan Qiren has Lan Zhan's life planned out for him to become a surgeon who will come home to a demure wife at the end of the day. The story is exceptionally written and depicts small town life, complete with small-minded, homophobic people and the difficult choices Wei Ying and Lan Zhan are forced to make. I highly recommend it.

~*~

14. I was wondering if you Help me find this fic about I think Wei ying agreed to come to lan zhan home but he could with the wen poeple if you agreed to get cleanse of all resentment, energy. he knew he was gonna die, but he still did it in like lan zhan it’s kind of mad about it.

FOUND? 🧡 decay by antebunny (G, 15k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, the fluffiest ending, Hurt/Comfort)

~*~

15. For the next fic finder, I've been looking for a fic that was a crossover with Firefly. LXC saved LWJ and WWX from a science facility, and tries to get a ride on a ship either owned by NMJ or JC, and LXC gets caught "smuggling" LWJ and WWX. Well it turns out that JC had started space traveling because he was looking for WWX. I thought that mondengel had written it, but I couldn't find it when I had gone through their works. If you can help locate it then that would be amazing! Thanks for the help!

Hi! I’m #15 on the recent Fic Finder. It’s not among the stars. WWX and LWJ weren’t courtesans. I’m pretty sure they were both science experiments, or something along those lines, and I think they were essentially abducted, so LXC went to rescue LWJ and had to take WWX as well since LWJ wouldn’t leave without him. It was also a one-shot. If it also helps, all the MDZS characters basically replaced all of the Firefly characters

NOT FOUND? among the stars by plonk (E, 61k, WangXian, Space, Science Fiction, Firefly Setting, Courtesan WWX, Courtesan LWJ)

FOUND? Sabre by mondengel (Not Rated, 1k, WangXian, Firefly AU)

For 15, check specifically chapter 4 of among the stars. The chapters are not connected to one another and are each a contained story. Chapter 4 has WY as the mechanic, LZ as the psychic girl in the box, yanli as the captain, jc as whatever jayne's job is... You should double check specifically that chapter!

~*~

16. Hello! I am looking for a specific fic, please. It was set in Cloud Recesses and I think WWX and LWJ were married. WWX was given a role within the clan as something like personnel manager, and he was tasked with speaking with every single disciple to see how they liked their work and then rearranging their schedules and getting them better pay and the like. For some reason the elders wanted to overthrow LXC but all of the disciples that WWX had helped rose up to fight back in gratitude for WWX’s help. Would love to read again, if anyone remembers what this fic might be! Thank you!

FOUND? Practical Considerations by teawater, the_anthropologist (E, 97k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Found Family, Spouses to Lovers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Politics, Scheming, Lán Elders are assholes, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, eventually BAMF LXC, learning to make decisions, Learning Self-worth, Self-Esteem Issues, Sweet Wangxian, Domestic Fluff, Fix-It, JC is a big asshole, he improves somewhat but it’s open-ended, POV wwx, POV LWJ, POV JC, Golden Core Reveal, Teacher wwx, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Past Suicidal Thoughts, Post-Sunshot Campaign, WWX Protection Squad, Feelings Realization, WWX protector of the twin jades, Protective LWJ, Protective WWX, Protective LQR, Demonic Cultivator WWX, Married WangXian, Genius WWX, Everybody Lives) Wei Wuxian was in an arranged marriage with Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen asked Wei Wuxian to take over the accounting for the sect. After Lan Wangji gets a beating from the Elders, Wei Wuxian researches how the Elders have more power than the Sect Leader and learns that they were meant to be advisors, leading to a reorganization within the sect. Lan Xichen asks Wei Wuxian to interview all the disciples to work out better positions for everyone and those disciples help prevented a later coup led by the Elders.

~*~

17. Hi! I’m looking for a fic where WWX, JC, Mianmian, and JZX are superheroes. LWJ was the bad guy. I think it was called Minx? I can’t seem to find it. I remember WWX felt like an outsider. JC resented him quite a bit. WWX ends up on LWJ’s side.

FOUND? 🔒 Minx by retired (misbehavingvigilante) (E, 66k, WangXian, Teen Titans (Animated Series) Setting, Age Difference, Corruption Arc, Daddy Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Dubious Consent, Manipulation, Seduction to the Dark Side, Sexual Harassment, Trans WWX, WWX Has a Rape/Non-Con Kink, YLLZ WWX, Dark LWJ, Dragon LWJ)

~*~

18. I remember this fic where wei wuxian is some sort of general maybe and he runs away from lan zhan and their kid/kids with the help of wen qing and wen ning. In the process of running away wei wuxian breaks down and wen qing finds out that he is pregnant and I think you ziyuan shows up?

I only remember reading till there and i can't find it please help @mysteriouslywangxian

~*~

19. Hello, can you please help mee.

I'm looking for a fic I read a while back, around 2021? Wangxian has s*x in the xuanwu cave but wy end up passing out due to fever and lwj is convinced that he has taken advantage of a sick wy. They meet again years later. It's also not jiang friendly and wy will live with the wens after being rescued from the cave @romyb28

FOUND? 🔒💙 Wish I could forget the taste of your skin and the feel of your hands pinning me down by KizuKatana (E, 63k, WangXian, WQ & WWX & WN, weapons-grade thirst, Getting Back Together, Trying REALLY hard to not still like your Ex, but failing, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Canon Divergence, Modern Cultivation, Case Fic, LWJ's canonically big dick, sort of a 'thirsting for your co-worker ex' vibe, it eventually gets worked out, Mutual Pining, Guest-starring LWJ’s canonically poor communication choices after romantic cave encounters, novel canon relationship dynamics, basically this fic is about escalating sexual tension)

~*~

20. I need help looking for a wangxian fic

The fic is in a modern setting mostly on the pov of the junior quartet.

They think that LWJ is cheating on WWX since they saw him leave a club/bar/restaurant with a beautiful "female". Turns out it is just WWX in a dress.

Involves misunderstandings, devastated LSZ, and the juniors ruining LWJ's surprise gift for WWX. @lanwuxian0725

FOUND! Junior.exe has stopped working by Luminos07 (T, 4k, WangXian, Crack Treated Seriously, Attempt at Humor, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Junior Trio Shenanigans, This fic is basically the juniors being dumb, Crack, Humor, Comedy, What’s the tag for the juniors going through LWJ's phone?, Protective JC, Modern, no actual infidelity, Established Relationship, LWJ's sugar daddy tendencies, WWX Protection Squad)

~*~

[funnyjb]

Our boy

————————————————

(2022)

“Welcome back, joe. Good to see you.”- Colin

“Thank you. Good to back here.”- Joe

“So, you just had a great win over the Jets. How are you feeling? How’s the team?”- Colin

“I’m feeling great. Definitely getting a good nights rest after that win.”- joe laughs

“But, the ping pong games are better in the locker room, film study is you know, what it is, but everyone is happy and we are ready to take on the next game.”- Joe

Colin laughs

“Love it. And when I watch the bengals, joe. I look at you guys a little like the rams. You’re what I would call your more of a let it rip and you guys have an aggressive culture. I like you guys aggressive. Does that make sense?”- Colin

“Yeah. Week 1 I was aggressive. Playing it safe and then end up losing. But found a balance. I took some chances but tried to throw a ball to the guys that needed it.”- Joe

“Yes. Exactly. I want to go back to what you said at the start of the interview. You said you’ve been having a god nights rest. I just want to say congratulations, because you just welcomed your first baby.”- Colin

Joe smiles

“Yes, he was born about a month ago.”- Joe

“Wow! I just wanted to say I’m happy you’re getting a good nights rest.”- Colin

“Yeah. Been a little tuff. But once I get home from a long game and I see my wife and my son, I know I will definitely have a good nights rest.”- Joe

“And how’s your wife? I mean I bet it’s a lot with football season.”- Colin

“Yeah. She’s honestly the strongest person I know. She can be up all night and still make it to a game. Or she’ll stay up way too late just to make sure I got home ok. Shes my everything. I wouldn’t be where I am today without her.”- Joe

“I really do love you guys. How long have you guys been together for now?”- Colin

“7 years since August.”- Joe

Oh, so since college? Wow. She’s really been with you from the start. My daughter was actually talking about your wife the other day. She was telling me y/n, is the only WAG she loves. Just the way you can tell she is sweet and how you can tell she really cares about you. Obviously being because she is your wife. Was there a point in your relationship before you got married where, joe, you were like “man, I’m going to marry this girl”.?”- Colin

Joe laughs

“Yeah. She’s probably one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met and known. I probably knew when we went out on our first date back at Ohio state. She’s a great listener and is even better at communicating. She always knows what to say and she has always gotten a laugh out of me even when I come home pissed from a loss or just a bad day at work. I knew when I was talking about football and I felt like I needed more. She knew what to say in that moment. She made feel like I was somebody. That’s when I knew I wanted to marry her.”- joe smiled

“Wow, just incredible. I’m smiling like a little girl right now. And now you guys have a little baby boy.”- Colin

Joe and Colin talked more. As the conversations kept flowing, joe kept thinking about you. You have been with him from the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. He just kept thinking how grateful he was to have you by his side.

[rwshfordgirl]

GOOD TO KNOW

all the images were taken from pinterest.

where thanks to a problem with her car, she finally meets the boy she exchanges smiles with in the elevator of the building where her grandmother lives.

paring; pedri x reader!

a/n: first time writing for pedri! i really like it. and this was a story that was in my head in portuguese and with central cee as the main character lol but i don't even write for him haha i hope you like it ;)

requests are open | check here my masterlist

Pedri rubbed his eyes as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing, he looked like someone in the desert seeing a mirage. However, you were real, you really were in his friend's mechanic's shop. And it was definitely the place you least wanted to be right now. However, you couldn't choose the day on which your car's engine would stop working.

But the Spanish player was relieved to see you. The voice in his head kept saying, "you're worried about her and you don't even know each other? you're crazy." Yet what could he do? He was used to meeting you at least once a week in the elevator of the building where he lives, but it's been weeks since he last met you.

Pedri has no idea why you disappeared, the college semester has been crazy and you no longer had time to take your grandmother's dog for a walk, as you had promised and had been doing for almost a year.

You remembered Pedri as soon as you saw him sitting with his head against the wall in front of you, "the cute boy from my grandma's building."

You never exchanged words but you did exchange many smiles, enough to make Pedri's heart almost jump out of his mouth every time. And you always enjoyed seeing him, especially when he was wearing Barcelona's tracksuits.

So, as always you smiled at him and he smiled back. But today you felt like talking, and besides, you wanted to try to forget that you would most likely be without a car for a few days.

Pedri saw you approaching attentively, his body was already starting to show signs of nervousness. Your smile was still on your face as you sat down on the empty bench next to him.

"Hi, long time no see."

Pedri heard your voice for the first time, he smiled when he concluded that it suited you perfectly.

"Hi." He looked into your eyes, "Really, and I was thinking you had moved away."

"Oh no, I don't live there, but my grandmother does and I promised to walk her dog once a week."

He nodded.

"You broke the promise."

Pedri's comment made you giggle and he mentally thanked you when he saw you turn your head forward. He admired you, something that only made him more nervous. His eyes helped his brain process every detail of your face, which made him come to the conclusion that he had never seen a woman like you.

"My degree isn't allowing me to go there. At least today I got some time off, and my car too."

You pointed to the car a few feet away.

"He's in good hands, Carlos is a good mechanic."

"I know, he always saves my car. But this is the first time I've seen you here, did your car have a problem too?"

Pedri shook his head, "I left training early today. I didn't feel like going home, so I decided to stop by and see him. He used to play with me in the youth teams."

You were surprised, "So you're actually a Barcelona player? I thought you were just a fanatical fan." You smiled "But now I'm remembering where I've seen you before, I've watched Barcelona games at Camp Nou."

"Barca fan then?" He asked curiously.

"I can say so."

"I need to let you know that the car will be ready today, but it will take about two hours. If you want to leave and come back for it when I call you."

Carlos, Pedri's mechanic friend, stopped in front of you. And the player saw you mutter, "Shit."

"Okay, I'll go to my grandmother's house then. "

You stood up and smiled awkwardly at Pedri and Carlos. The mechanic nodded and walked away while Pedri stood up and stood in front of you with his hands in his pockets.

"I can take you home if you want." He offered.

"No need, I live far away and my grandmother's house is very close. You can stay here with Carlos." You thanked him. "And by the way, my mother would kill me if I got into a stranger's car."

His joke made Pedri quickly lower his head and laugh.

"I swear I'm just a football player and not a psychopath. And I can come back later to talk to Carlos."

It's a half hour walk to your grandmother's house and only 10 hours by car. Pedri's ride isn't a bad idea for you, even if it makes you lay your head on the pillow and think about the dangers you could run into.

"Okay, but know that there are a lot of people who can come after you."

Pedri laughed at his comment once more before walking to his car. He politely opened the door for you to get in. "Thank you." You said before watching him walk towards the driver's seat.

"Do you live in another city but study in Barcelona?" He asked as he started the car. Eyes trained on the street.

"I live in Girona because of my mother and my maternal grandmother, both are not big fans of the hustle and bustle that Barcelona has."

"At least Girona isn't far away."

"Yes, it takes me practically the same distance by car or subway, but it's tiring to make that journey almost every day."

"I can't imagine what that must be like." He looked as he stopped the car at the red light. "But I know that all the effort will be rewarded."

"I hope.''

Seeing Pedrid driving has the same effect as seeing him wearing the tracksuit of the team he plays for. His hands on the steering wheel, the way he moves to look in the rearview mirror. It's a shame the journey is so short.

But Pedri was also bothered by this, he wanted to have more time to get to know you better today. An idea popped into his head as soon as he parked in the building's parking lot.

"Do you have any appointments right now?"

He looked at you hopefully.

"No. Why?"

Pedri bit his lip and looked out the window before answering.

"Want to eat something? There's a place nearby."

"There wasn't enough time for you to kidnap me, was there?" He laughed, "but I accept, I already know where you're going to take me."

"Do you like going there?"

"Love, even more so after a busy week."

And you can watch Pedri backing up and heading towards the café two blocks away. In the upper part of Barcelona.

"Nice view, isn't it?"

Barcelona seen from the top of the hill is something surreal. That's why it's one of your favorite places in the world, the most beautiful city in the world.

"It looks like you."

Flirtatious Pedri appeared. Taking you by surprise and leaving you embarrassed.

"Do you think so?"

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that ever since I first saw you in that elevator."

"And you never thought to tell me?"

"How would I tell you? Wouldn't it be nice to take you by the hand and tell you that you are beautiful."

You laughed at the way he said it.

"You should have, a compliment makes someone's day." He nodded. "But I'm not going to lie, I loved running into you in the elevator."

"And I definitely missed that."

He said as he scratched his chin. Pedri was embarrassed to say that but as he knew it wasn't worth hiding something like that from you.

"Good to know."

[billthedrake]

LINEAGE (PART TWELVE)

I had to work late one day, and I came home to find Braden playing video games with the older boys, while the twins were crawling around in the family room. Brade was hunky as hell in his favorite faded T-shirt from the local NFL team and his PT shorts, furry legs stretched out barefoot as he got into trying to beat Keith. What made him more alluring was his natural, easy fatherhood. He was SO good with the boys, nurturing and a masculine role model for them. I had to consider myself the luckiest father in the world and was thankful I was a family man.

My son-husband paused the game then looked up at me. His face silently communicating something was serious. "Hi Dad... You should go check on Bill."

"Oh," I said. I was going to ask if it was serious, but I realized Braden didn't want to bring it up around the boys.

I made my way through our mansion to where Junior's room was. A guess flashed through my mind. Since that first magical date night, I'd pulled back some from Junior. Not emotionally, but we'd had less one-on-one time the week and a half since. I thought Junior knew why: his Daddy and I was trying for another pregnancy, and I'd focused my sexual energy there. I'd given Junior a couple of quick blowjobs before he went off to school, and I'd rimmed him a couple of times while he jerked off. But that was it.

The door wasn't completely closed now, but it was mostly shut. I gave a knock. "Can I come in, buddy?"

"Yeah, Dad," came the defeated reply.

Junior was still in his knit shit and golf shorts from practice, his favorite cap pulled down where the brim rested above the eyes. He was a good way into his senior year, and Junior already was rocking an impressive college-jock build. In other circumstances I'd be joining him in bed, making out with my special dude. But something was wrong, I could see a lot of worry in his eyes.

Instinctively, I shut the door. "What's wrong, kiddo?" I asked.

"I fucked it up, Dad," Junior said. "Just as we were getting close, I fucked it up."

I came and sat on the bed, placing my hand on Junior's strong leg where the soft hairs were starting to come in. "Why don't we start at the beginning?" I asked.

He nodded, and I could tell he was holding back tears. Maybe he'd been crying all afternoon. "I've been using protection, honest. But I guess the condom broke..." He paused. "Well, I know the condom broke. I didn't think it would be a big deal. But Mr. Carson called today, and he's pregnant, and I don't what to fucking do..."

"Tim Carson?" I asked. "Alex's Dad?" Alex was Junior's teammate and good friend. I tried not to sound judgmental, but I was just genuinely surprised to the point I thought maybe there was another Mr. Carson.

Junior nodded, emotion heavy. "It's messed up. Alex is weirded out, and Mr. Carson's upset. You can ground me, Dad... I've just been worried you'll break up with me."

I patted his leg, and began caressing the short hairs more affectionately. "I'm not breaking up with you, Junior," I assured him. "But you gotta man up and be there for Mr. Carson. And your son. Doesn't matter how awkward things are."

"I know, Dad. And I will." His voice got quiet. "I've been dreaming of being a Dad, but fuck, I didn't expect it to be like this. So soon, you know."

"I know, kiddo," I said. I figured this was the good time to tell Junior. "You know... when I fathered your Daddy... that was an unplanned pregnancy."

"For real?" Junior asked. I was surprised he hadn't put two and two together, doing the math between my and Braden's age. But my husband and I made sure that our boys saw loving parents, so maybe it just didn't occur to him.

"I was even younger. 16 and a dumb teen dad," I said self-deprecatingly. "But Braden turned out to be the best thing in my life... even better because he gave me five amazing sons, who were planned."

"Dad..." Junior's voice was getting heavy.

"I won't lie, kiddo, raising a kid is hard work."

"I know, Dad. I'm ready."

I patted his leg again. "Attaboy." Everything about Junior then was making me fall for him, as completely as I had Braden at that age. "So," I winked, trying to provide some levity. "Just one broken condom and your swimmers got it done, huh?"

It was a relief to see Junior's smile. "Guess so."

"You know..." I continued, running my fingers up Junior's leg, beneath the hem of his shorts. "If you were a true Drake man, you'd get a boner just thinking about the fact you knocked a guy up."

I could see the gears turn in Junior's head. The realization and the surprise that I was giving him permission to feel sexual right now. Permission to embrace the turn on maybe he didn't know was there.

I watched Junior get stiff in his shorts. For our time exploring each other the last month, I'd only watched his hardon form once from start to full erection. I was watching it now and it was beautiful. Especially because Junior's eyes went from his crotch to my face and back.

"I guess I'm a Drake man, all right," he hissed in lust.

"Fuck yeah, you are buddy," I growled and leaned in to kiss him.

This felt different than before. Not only had Junior upped his kissing game, copying the technique I'd coached him on over date night, but we were peers in a strange way. Fellow dads.

His hands were on my feeling my dress shirt beneath my suit as we got into it.

"God I love you, Dad. So fucking much," Junior hissed as I removed my shoes and got up onto bed with him. "I've just been worried sick you'd break things off."

"I know, Junior," I said, running my hand along his built chest. "Listen, I gotta be the dad sometimes," I said. "But you're a man on your own right now. And I care for you like crazy."

He had an adorable checked smile on his face. "I just knew you'd be mad at me."

"You gonna give me a reason to be?" I arched my eyebrow.

"No, sir," Junior laughed.

I gave an appreciative nod. I leaned in and whispered into his ear. "Maybe I can taste that breeding cock of your son."

"God yes," he answered in a croak and was already fiddling with his shorts. Maybe one of these days we'd get a more equal dynamic for who would initiate sex and when, but for now Junior deferred to when and how I'd fit in our own private time within my marriage to Braden.

This was fun, and I realized how excited I was that Junior had knocked up a guy. Rationally I knew it wasn't the right thing. Or at least it had happened too soon. But as I got closer to my son's hard prick I gripped it in my fingers and said lewdly. "You got a hardon when you heard Tim Carson was pregnant, Son?"

He shook his head. "Was too freaked actually," he said.

I looked up at him. "I know how you felt, son," remembering that conversation. "But now... I get huge boners when I knock your Daddy up."

"Fuck," Junior hissed. He loved that idea.

I licked his balls, tickling the orbs with my tongue. "Got powerful sperm in here."

"I do, Dad," Junior finally getting on my wavelength. "I fucking put a kid into Mr. Carson." I could sense his eyes on me, reading me in case he went too far.

"A son," I added, then licked to where his balls met his shaft. "You're gonna give me a fucking great-grandson."

"OH FUUUCK!" he hissed. At the idea but also because my tongue was tracing up his hard shaft.

"Fucking teen dad," I grunted. "You gotta a lot more before you can catch up with me."

"Course, Dad. Six sons is a lot."

I looked him dead in the eye. Junior was so frickin' sexy just then. "Especially cause I'm not stopping anytime soon."

"OH FUCK!" I knew how turned on Junior was getting because he was at a loss for words.

I didn't need the sex talk anyway. I leaned forward and began taking my son's dick in my mouth. The dick that had fucked Tim Carson and made a kid. A new life. I didn't need Braden's oral technique then, Junior was ready to blast pretty quick. He gripped my head and pumped some into my mouth as his dick spurted its seed. Maybe it was all in my head, but I imagined that his cum tasted different, more manly.

"Thank you," he hissed. Then, "Can I...?"

I shook my head and swallowed the rest of his cum. "I'll let your Daddy take care of that," I said. I slid out of bed and stood up, arranging the hardon in my trousers. "You tell him the news?"

Junior nodded yes. I could tell he'd dreaded telling me in a way he hadn't with Braden.

"Well, tomorrow, or the next day, see if you can bring Tim around the house," I suggested. "I want you to take responsibility, Junior, but maybe your Daddy and I can clear the air some."

"Sure, Dad. And thanks for understanding."

I leaned in to give him a quick kiss. "It's gonna change your life, Junior, in some not good ways as well as the amazing ones. But you got this, kiddo... I know you do.... and well, me and your Daddy have your back, OK?"

We let Junior have his space that evening, the rest of the family having dinner without him. I thought of checking with him before bed, but I knew he was OK, he just needed time to think and reflect. I think he valued that alone time just as much as me.

Later, when Braden and I got ready for bed, we knew we were gonna fuck. A hard fuck, going at it verbally. Talking about Junior's cock and sperm. Talking about our son becoming a father. It was an intense, simultaneous orgasm, and afterward, Braden and I held each other's sweaty naked bodies and had a serious conversation about expectations and how we could help Junior out.

***

Tim Carson was cordial when he came over the next day. It was small talk and introduction. I mean I knew him some from the team fundraiser and from the times I'd dropped Junior off for sleepovers a couple of years ago. Maybe it was one of those times, I wondered when was Junior first...

Now wasn't the time for recriminations. Tim felt nervous as hell to be there, even after Braden went to look after the twins, leaving just him, me and Junior in my study.

"This is awkward," the man said at last. Junior had good taste, I'll give him that. Mr. Carson was well preserved for a man in his 50s, fit, what I'd call a DILF. Like Doug Newcomb, only more normal looking, less movie star handsome. The man was a corporate lawyer, married with two kids. And his life had been turned upside down.

"Don't feel so on my account," I said.

He nodded, grateful. He looked over at Junior then at me. "You guys are going to think I'm crazy, but I wanna have this kid."

"It's not crazy at all, Mr. Carson," Junior said with a strange self-confidence.

He gave a gentle shrug. "Knowing I have this life inside my body, growing inside of me... it just feels meant to be."

"How far are you along?" I asked.

"Over three months," Tim answered. "I didn't know what was going on at first."

I did the math. This was before Junior and I first had sex, probably before I grounded him, but not much more. "How are you holding up?"

"Health-wise? Emotionally?..."

"Either."

"Health is good. I'm just dealing with my family." His voice got quiet. "Kelly always wanted another kid. She's not forgiving me, but I guess taking this as that chance, you know...?"

"I want to speak for Bill Jr here... he's going to be there however you need."

I saw a flash of worry on his face and maybe some real emotional conflict. He looked over at Junior, then back to me. "I'm going to raise him... Kelly and I are going to raise the kid as a Carson, Bill. I don't expect anything from Bill Jr. But maybe he could be the godfather."

"I'd be honored, Mr. Carson," Junior piped in.

I finally let them have a private conversation, getting up to go join Braden and our other sons in the family den. But before I did, I held out my hand to shake Tim Carson's. "I know my great-grandson will be a Carson, but I just want to let you know, Tim, that I consider you family."

"Thanks for understanding, Bill," Tim said. Up close, I could see what Junior saw in the man. The not classically handsome face had a way of growing on you. "And thanks for not stringing my balls up," he laughed.

I turned to Junior. "I'll be in the den if you need me for anything, son, OK?"

Junior smiled. Relieved and maybe surprised this whole conversation had gone better than he expected.

***

I did go check on Junior before bedtime. He was doing homework but was shirtless and just in some gym shorts in his room. "I take it Tim left," I said, as I knocked on the door.

"Just about a half hour ago," Junior said with a proud smirk. Then, "Sorry... I guess we never clarified House Rule Number 7," he said, referencing the idea of exclusivity.

"There's no House Rule 7, Junior," I said. He was at his desk, and I sat down on his bed. God, Brade was right. The kid was so much like me. Led around by his dick, but maybe not wanting to be like that. "Celebration sex is pretty powerful, isn't it?" I said. Bonding with my boy experiencing his first time with fatherhood.

That made Junior smile big. "I'll say, Dad. I know we talked about this, but bareback fucking is pretty damn incredible."

I laughed. "First time, raw?" I confirmed, making sure Junior had been truthful to me before.

He nodded. "Oh yeah. Other than the broken rubber time, but that didn't really count."

It was time for me to switch from wingman/buddy mode to parent mode. "You know, Mr. Carson has a family. A wife and kids."

He got more serious. "I know, Dad. We talked a lot. But Mr. Carson wanted it. I did too. At least one last time."

I felt for him... I think he felt this strange emotional side of becoming a father. This need to bond with the man he'd impregnated. I got up and reached over to pat his shoulder. In other circumstance, and if Junior hadn't just gotten laid, I might have initiated something. He was just so handsome and youthful and... dad-like. My second son, now a father himself.

"Maybe next date night we can just have a nice long conversation about being a father."

Junior seemed to take that in. "Sounds great, Dad... only no sex?"

"Horndog," I teased.

"I'm a Drake," Junior teased back.

I ran my fingers down his arm. I was getting a little turned on. "That you are, buddy." I leaned in some. There was just this bond Junior and I had at this moment. Fellow breeders. Junior following in my footsteps. Maybe this isn't the way it should have happened, but with sex and pregnancy it doesn't always play out like you want or expect.

"So... kiddo..." I said with a naughty look on my face. "I'm gonna go fuck your Daddy. See if I can make a son, too."

Junior's eyes grew excited. He may have just gotten his rocks off but he was clearly showing some lust at the idea. "Yeah?"

"Fuck yeah, stud. Wanna come watch tonight?"

"God, Dad, I'd love that."

Junior had joined in my and Brade's marriage bed a few times, but the action had been all oral. He'd never seen his parents fuck.

"Give it a half hour," I said. "Then come join us."

Braden was already getting ready for bed, brushing his teeth in the master bathroom as I stepped in, a big smirk on my face.

"What?" Brade laughed, spitting out the toothpaste. Then rinsing it out, it occurred him. "Oh fuck... Junior's joining us tonight?"

"If you're up for it, Son," I said, stepping behind him and gently gripping his strong shoulders to massage them as I look into his eyes in the mirror. "I want Junior to watch me breed you," I said.

"God," Braden said. And now I was able to see him throw hard in his shorts. I leaned in and kiss the side of his neck.

"I can't believe our son's a father now," I said softly.

"I know, Dad," Braden replied. "I've been thinking about that all day."

"Does it turn you on?" I asked. So far, other than a bout of sex talk during fucking, me and Brade's conversation had been about the practicality of Junior's paternity news and how we should respond as parents.

"Like crazy, Dad. I tolda ya he's gonna be like you."

We took our time getting naked and into bed. My son-husband and I were slow making out at first, enjoying the physical connection and the conversation.

"I'm so glad you were open to incest, Dad... way back when."

"I'm glad you got me to listen to my cock. Best decision I ever made."

We kissed more deeply.

A gentle knock came, but Junior went ahead and opened the door to slip on. I could tell he was hard in his shorts, but those didn't stay on long anyway. As he slid them off to show his large teen boner, he said softly. "Hey Dads."

I hadn't told Braden about Junior fucking Tim Carson earlier, but it didn't really matter. I was just amused he was recharged again, already.

"Hey Bill," Braden said, scooting to the side to give our son some space in the king sized bed. "It might be less foreplay tonight," he added.

"I don't care, Daddy," Junior said as he climbed over the base of the bed and onto the mattress between us. "I'm just so glad to be with you guys."

Braden kissed him first, then I pulled Junior toward me. By now, we were all getting the threesome dynamic, enjoying the multiple incestuous connections and relishing the feel of our naked bodies and hard cocks in various combinations.

At one point, I was getting overheated. I pulled back from a kiss with Junior, feeling up his bare chest openly in front of Braden. "You ready to watch, kiddo?"

Junior just grinned and nodded excitedly.

I crawled over his naked body and over to meet Braden in a heated kiss. Making out with my husband with our son watching gave a new thrill to sex with him. My Brade was now almost 40 and muscular and thick. And I was going to impregnate him again.

"You take your pill today, Son?" I asked as I pulled back. My body on top of his, hard cock humping Brade's.

He nodded. "Yeah, Dad. I'll take another, too."

I shook my head. "Doc says one a day."

Braden wasn't listening to me. Already he was reaching over to the foil packet on the nightstand.

"Fuck," I hissed. My dad cock was thinking for me now.

"Are those the fertility pills?" Junior asked. Excited.

I nodded, looking at my boyfriend. "When men get a little older, nature can use a little boost."

"Hot," Junior said. Then feeling out the more open sex talk he and I had been working, son asked, "Are those gonna make Daddy's womb extra fertile."

"I sure hope so," Braden said, popping the pill in his mouth and taking a sip of water from the glass before setting it down on the night stand. "I wanna get totally fucking pregnant tonight."

I ran my hands along Braden's hard abs, feeling the fur and looking back and forth between his amazing body and Junior. "I can't wait to knock up your daddy again."

"Yes," Junior hissed. He got on his knees and came closer to watch.

"Want to see us make you another brother, Bill?" Braden asked.

"God, Daddy..." Junior was getting excited as hell. "I've imagined you doing this SO much."

"Get the lube, kiddo," I growled. "I want you to get my cock ready to impregnate your Daddy."

"Yessir!"

As he reached over to the night table, I kissed Braden deeply. I didn't have to ask. My husband was wildly turned on. In heat.

"That pill kicking in, babe?" I asked in a soft growl.

"Dropping that egg for you now, Dad. All for you."

I leaned up. "For this cock."

"Hot fucking Dad cock," Brade grunted, reaching up to lovingly hold and stroke it.

"Guys!" Junior hissed, his own prick jerking as he scooted back in the bed. "So fucking hot!"

I gestured down at my own dick. "Slick me up, buddy... not too much... there... Nice!"

I kissed Junior, hard. Braden watched us make out, watched Junior almost whimper he was so worked up.

It took willpower to pull back, but I needed inside Brade, bad. I kicked apart his legs. Partly for show, I guess, playing it up for Junior. Braden knew and he smiled as he watched me get into the saddle, pushing down my rigid cock into place.

There's nothing like that first time, of me taking Braden's cherry. Or the night we made Junior, our first impregnation. But this was pretty damn close. At least having our son's eyes on the connection point between my bare dick and his daddy's receptive hole made this fuck feel special and new.

Junior watched me penetrate his other parent.

His hands were on me, rubbing my back, wanting to get close to me and to Brade in this primal sexual act. I loved that, but I also directed my attention to Braden. Modeling how husbands mate, with love but also sexual intensity.

"I love you, Brade..." I hissed, loud enough where Junior could hear.

"Love you, too, Dad."

I pushed in deeper. My cock inside my first born. While my second born witnessed it.

"Aw, that's it, Dad. Fuck me." Brade was wrapping his legs around me.

I turned to Junior. "Junior... can you put a pillow under Daddy's hips? It'll be a better angle."

"Yeah, Dad."

Braden chuckled. Then I powered into his body fully.

"Oh fuck yes, Brade," I hissed. "I love fucking you."

Junior's hands were back on me, his close presence turning me on. And I could see Braden watch us both as I fucked a little faster.

"Ready for son number seven, Son?" I asked.

"God yeah... I need you to impregnate me again. Fill me up with your sperm."

I put more power to my thrusts. No longer exactly showing off for Junior, this was me just getting into the breed-mating with his Daddy. "You all fertile for me, stud?"

He nodded in deep lust. "SO fucking fertile, Dad. Ready for that son you're gonna plant in there. However many sons you want."

"Shit!" I gasped. Junior was witnessing and hearing me and Brade go deep, for sure. "Give Junior here another little brother, maybe two."

"Maybe three."

"Damn. Show my boyfriend how we made him."

"Shit, Dad!" That was Junior's exclamation.

I didn't take my eyes of Brade, but as I fucked harder I spoke to Junior. "Yeah, kiddo. This is how we made you. I fucked your daddy nonstop till it took."

"Then we fucked some more, Dad," Braden hissed. His dick was jerking on his abs in excitement, quivering with each jab to his prostate.

"To celebrate," I added.

"Fuck yeah," Junior said. "I wish I could have watched. Wish I could have watched you fuck me into existence, Dad."

I don't know why that was the trigger, but Junior's words brought on my orgasm quick. I pounded in and leaned forward to kiss Brade as I seeded him full. As I ejaculated good and hard inside my husband, Junior's hands were on my sweaty back, sensually caressing me.

I gave Brade a deep romantic kiss as I came down from the high. We didn't have to say anything. We both intuited that there was a good chance that I'd just conceived our next son.

I gingerly retreated and once I broke free of Braden's ass, I used my thumb to push the excess sperm back into his hole.

Still breathing heavy, I turned to Junior. "If you wanna get one of your condoms, kiddo..." I offered.

"For real?" he asked. His dick was hard and jerking and on his smoother body it seemed to stand out more than my similarly sized cock did from mine. He looked at Braden, who nodded.

"That'd be fucking hot, Bill," my husband said.

We laughed as we watched Junior bound out of bed and slip on his shorts before slipping back out of the room.

I lay next to Brade and ran my hand along his sweaty chest. "You OK with the idea, Son?"

Brade smiled and nodded. "Junior's a stud, Dad. I didn't think the night could get more special and yet..."

"It's like experiencing it through new eyes," I said.

"Yeah."

Junior came back with two foil packets. He set them down on the nightstand and shucked his shorts down again. "You sure, Dad? Daddy?"

"That's a beautiful piece of son cock, Bill," Braden said, scooting over to taking Junior into his mouth.

"OH FUCK" Junior hissed, eyes on his daddy then up at me. "I didn't think you guys would go for this."

"You might want to get in him before he changes his mind," I joked.

Junior laughed and pulled back, leaning in to kiss Braden before he picked up a condom and ripped the wrapper with his teeth.

"This one better not break," I admonished him.

"No sir," Junior said, rolling down the sheath over his hard teen jock dick.

Meanwhile, Braden was pumping some lube on his fingers then applying the extra lubrication to his seeded hole. It had been a long time since I'd warn a rubber, but when we played with the Newcombs or the Connors, then Brade would often be a bottom to one of the dads.

It was my turn to watch what skills my stud 18-year-old son had. He was nervous fucking his Daddy but it was also clear he'd topped men before. Maybe a lot.

He fingered Braden's hole, reading my husband's reactions before pushing his dick into place. He quickly realized Brade was all loosened up from my fuck, so he pushed in.

"Oh God!" Brade hissed.

"Feel good, Daddy?" Junior asked, sensually as his hips pushed in then slowly swiveled for a slow pump.

"God, yeah, Bill. My own fucking son."

Junior was getting REAL into this now. "Your own son's fucking you, Dad."

"Oh fuck yes."

I didn't feel jealous watching this. Just the opposite, I was thrilled to see Junior make Braden so happy, so turned on. My husband began jerking his dick in time with each of our son's thrusts.

I gathered Junior was feeling the internal clenching. "Your ass feels so fucking tight, Daddy.. even after Dad fucked you."

"Push his seed deeper into me, son. AW, that's it... A little faster... Not too hard...."

Junior was getting into this fuck and it was magnificent to watch. My two sons, having sex. Fucking. It was just beautiful and hot. My cock was fully hard again. I reached out to touch Junior's back like he had mine.

"Oh shit," he hissed, hips jerking faster. I could tell our son was getting close,

Still, Braden beat him to the finish line. Hot white cum spurted out onto his meaty chest and ripped abs.

Almost a second after that I saw Junior's head go back and his eyes shut and his face flush red. "YES!" He wasn't an overly loud cummer. I enjoyed watching his O face. Different than Braden's. All Junior.

He had a big smile on his face as he relished the postcoital glow. Brade had a pretty big one, too. Then reaching down to hold the base of the rubber, Junior slowly extracted himself. There was a huge wad of cum pooled in the tip.

"Can I taste that, Bill?"

Junior nodded. "Yeah, Dad. I'd love that." He peeled off the condom and carefully brought it up to Braden's lips, turning out the contents.

"Fuck!" he hissed as he watched Brade slurp it all into his mouth, then swallow.

We let Braden shower off first. Junior and I embraced in the now damp sheets. Kissing softly.

"Thanks, Dad. That was the hottest thing."

"Pretty hot for us, too, Junior." I patted his bare ass as I held him close. "It's nice that we can trust you with this." I paused.

"Absolutely, Dad."

We kissed again, then it was my turn. I didn't know if Junior would be sleeping in our bed that night. It felt appropriate, and yet it didn't.

Turns out he made that decision for us. I walked back in to see only Braden in the bed. "Bill went to sleep in his own room."

"Probably for the best," I said.

Braden nodded. But as I got into bed, my husband pulled me close. "Thank you for that, Dad. You know I've been wanting that to happen."

I did and yet maybe I didn't know how much Brade had wanted it until then. We kissed some more.

I was happy and very sexually satisfied. Still, something nagged at me.

"I remember when you told me that Junior was gonna be trouble," I said softly,

Braden leaned up on his arm, looking at me. "Yeah?"

"I'm starting to see it."

***

I was in Doctor Fiedler's waiting room with Brade, when I got a call. Normally I'd ignore it unless it was an urgent work call. But it had been a while since I'd talked to Doug Newcomb.

I excused myself and stepped out in the hall. "Hey Newcomb, what's up?"

"I got some news, buddy..." he beamed. "As you know, Eric's graduating in May, and we've been talking, and we'd love to move out to your neighborhood."

"For real?" The news made me happy, happier than I would have thought, because I never expected this to happen.

"For real, Drake. We can talk details later, if you got a spare lot in your little subdivision."

"Incest Acres," I said quietly in to the phone. "We got a lot of spare lots."

"Incest Acres, buddy. Here we come. "

"So... what made you guys decide on that?"

I could almost hear the beaming smile on the other end. "Eric... well, you Drake men are inspiration, cause he wants to start a family with me."

"Shit." I loved hearing about incest procreation, and hearing it from the Newcombs was extra special.

"Yeah, I know right?" he chuckled. "We might not have the brood you do, but Eric wants a son bad. Turns out, I want to have one with him, too."

"It's the best, Newcomb. You'll see."

"What about you and Braden. Any news?" Doug new that we were trying for another pregnancy.

"At the doctor's office now, buddy. Waiting for the results."

"Oh shit. I'll let you go, man. Keep me updated."

"Will do... And Doug.. I'm super thrilled for you guys."

"Thanks, we are too. Talk later..."

I stepped back into the waiting room just as they were calling out Braden's name. I walked back to Fiedler's office with him.

Todd was all smiles as he ushered us in and shut the door.

"Well, gentlemen," he said with a playful smile. "I hope you're ready for triplets."

[buckets-and-trees]

Red, White & True: Election Day in New York, Pt. 1 [15/16]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 7.2k Summary: Election Day is finally here, but the campaign certainly isn't over yet. The people need to get out and vote, and you and Steve put in more hard work to get them to the polls. But you can't ignore the new level you and Steve have stepped into for your relationship...

Content/Warnings: political/campaign discussions, marriage of political convenience, slow burn, really the slowest burn, strangers to lovers, EXPLICIT SMUT (oral - male and female receiving, vaginal intercourse, implied hand jobs, referenced shower sex)

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Previous Chapter | Series

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[NOVEMBER 3 - 8:32AM - TIMES SQUARE - MIDTOWN MANHATTAN]

“We all know it’s Election Day. Our team here at Good Morning America has been covering the developments you dedicated coverage for months, following the candidates, the debates, and the rogue run for the presidency by independent candidate and former Captain America Steven Grant Rogers, and in an unprecedented surprise development, we have the New York City native joining us here in studio right now,” Michael Strahan says, standing tall beside the news desk as the camera pans to reveal Steve sitting comfortably in one of the Good Morning America conversation chairs next to Robin Roberts and George Stephanopoulos.

"Good morning, America," Steve says with a small wave, his voice calm and steady despite the monumental day ahead. He looks impeccable in his navy suit, his signature red and blue campaign tie knotted perfectly at his throat. Your heart is racing and chest slightly heaving from the adrenaline of rushing across town and sprinting through the building to get Steve to the ABC studio in time for this last minute chance appearance, but Steve didn’t even break a sweat and looks cool as a cucumber on set. 

He is a super soldier, but he also didn’t have to do any of it in heels. 

"Captain Rogers, thank you both for being here on what must be an incredibly busy morning for you," George says, leaning forward slightly in his chair.

"I wouldn't miss it," you reply with a warm smile. "And please, call me Steve. New York is home, and I wanted to start this historic day right here."

“But we’re not your first stop, are we?” Robin jumps in. On the monitor next to you and Pepper, you can see them cutting to footage of you and Steve at your polling station to cast your ballots - which happened only just under an hour ago. “You’ve already been to Brooklyn to vote!”

Steve laughs, “Yes, we have! Voting is the most important thing every American can do today, so my wife and I made sure to take care of that the first chance we got!”

This stop hadn’t been on the itinerary, but your campaign press secretary had worked some sort of miracle and pulled many strings and announced as you got in a car to drive from The Plaza to your Brooklyn polling station that she’d managed to get Steve a five minute segment on the country’s most-watched morning show as long as you could make it into the studio by 8:30am. 

"Now, Steve, the polls are showing an incredibly tight race. Some are calling it the most unpredictable race in our nation’s history,” George says. “The most successful run a third party candidate made was Theodore Roosevelt in 1912. After serving two terms from 1901-1909, he said he was not interested in running for a third term, and the Republican nomination went to his Vice President William Howard Taft who went on to win and succeed Teddy Roosevelt as President, but he was unhappy with the direction Taft went, and sought the nomination again four years later. He didn’t get it, and so he ran as the candidate for the Progressive Party, and he actually earned 88 electoral votes.”

“That’s true, and I’m old, but this actually was still just before my time,” Steve confirms with a wink and a grin, effusing charm. “He won 27% of the popular vote, but Woodrow Wilson ended up taking in 435 votes in the electoral college.”

“Now there are two possibilities at the end of this election,” Robin takes the reins from her cohost for the next leg of the conversation. “The first and most straightforward is that one of the three candidates wins a simple majority, just 270 of the 538 electoral votes. But what happens if none of you reach that crucial 270 threshold?”

"If no candidate secures a majority,” Steve explains, “the House of Representatives holds a contingent election to choose the president, while the Senate does the same for the vice president. In the House, every state delegation has one vote, whereas in the Senate, each Senator votes individually." 

“That’s fascinating,” Robin replies.

"The Constitution's framers designed this process for exactly this kind of situation," Steve continues, his voice steady and clear. "It's happened before in our nation's history, though not since 1824." 

"And polls show this is a real possibility tonight," George adds, glancing at his notes. "How does that affect your strategy today?"

Steve leans forward slightly, his expression earnest. "Our strategy remains unchanged—connecting with voters until the last poll closes. Every state is a battleground state for us, not just the quote ‘traditional swing states.’ I think that’s one of the most dynamic parts of this election. But we would prefer if we could take a true 270-victory to keep it in the hands of every American voter. The people deserve to have their voices heard. That's what democracy is all about."

"Speaking of connecting with voters," Robin transitions smoothly, "your campaign has defied conventional wisdom at every turn. No party infrastructure, no traditional fundraising apparatus, yet here you are, competitive in nearly every battleground state. What do you attribute that success to?" 

You watch from just off-camera as Steve considers the question, his thoughtful pause not a hesitation but a careful, deliberate moment to find the words that matter.

"The American people are ready for something different," Steve says with quiet conviction. "They're tired of the political theater, the partisan gridlock. I was tired of it, too - that’s why I decided to do this, and what Charlie Young and I offer is simple: straight talk, clear vision, and a commitment to putting country above party." He smiles, that smile that has won over millions. "And I've been blessed not only with extraordinary supporters but a team of dedicated Americans who believed in this vision enough to work around the clock to make it possible."

George jumps in again and asks. "What's your message to voters who might still be undecided as they head to the polls today?"

Steve's expression grows more serious. "Vote your conscience. Not your fear, not your party loyalty, but your genuine belief in what America can and should be. This country has faced greater challenges than the ones before us now, and we've always emerged stronger when we've put our differences aside and focused on what unites us rather than what divides us. That's the America I believe in, and that's the America I hope to serve."

"And what about today's schedule?" Robin asks. "Where can voters expect to see you?"

"We'll be making stops in all five boroughs today," Steve replies. "We want to talk to as many people and thank as many people as we can. And then we'll be hosting a gathering in Central Park this evening as the results start coming in."

"And for those who haven't had a chance to meet you in person during the campaign," George says, "what would you like them to know about you as they head to the polls today?" 

Steve takes another brief moment, his expression thoughtful. "I'd want them to know that I've never stopped believing in what America can be. When I woke up in this century after being frozen for decades, I had to learn about a world that had changed dramatically. But the core of what makes this country special hasn't changed—it's still about people coming together, looking out for each other, and believing that tomorrow can be better than today if we're willing to work for it."

"And time for one last question," Robin says, glancing at the producer who's signaling from off-camera. "Win or lose, what happens tomorrow?" 

Steve smiles, a genuine warmth spreading across his features. "Tomorrow, the sun rises on America as it always has. And regardless of the outcome, I'll continue to serve this country in whatever capacity I can. That's been what I’ve done since 1943, and it hasn’t changed." 

"Captain Rogers—Steve—thank you for joining us this morning," George concludes, extending his hand. 

"Thank you for having me," Steve replies, shaking hands firmly with both hosts as the segment wraps. 

"And we're clear!" calls the floor director. The red lights dim, and the studio immediately buzzes with movement as crew members shift equipment for the next segment.

"That was great," Robin says warmly. "Good luck today, Steve."

"Thank you," he replies, his smile genuine but a touch weary around the edges in a way only you can detect.

"That was fantastic," Jake says, appearing at your side as Steve steps off the set. "You hit every key message point we wanted."

Steve's public face softens slightly as he turns to the two of you and Pepper, the practiced polish giving way to something more genuine. "Did it sound natural? That last answer felt a little rehearsed." 

"It was perfect," you assure him, straightening his already-perfect tie in a gesture that's become second nature. "Authentic but presidential." 

Lisa hurries over with a tablet displaying the updated schedule.

"That went incredibly well," Lisa says, swiping through her notes. "Social media engagement is already spiking. The clips will be running all morning."

"The quinjet is waiting," Pepper notes, checking her watch. "We need to be in Queens by nine-thirty."

Steve frowns. “The quinjet? Is that really necessary?”

Pepper smiles serenely. “We’re going to use all the resources at our disposal to get you where you need to be today. Quinjets are immune to traffic.”

[2:27PM - BROOKLYN]

Your body is humming with the adrenaline of five back-to-back events across New York City's five boroughs. After heading to Queens from the Good Morning America appearance, you’d then gone to the Bronx, back into Manhattan, ridden the Ferry to Staten Island to mingle with the crowd there before the actual Staten Island stop, and made the last stop in Brooklyn. 

You’re in a black SUV again now, and the motorcade weaves through the afternoon traffic, but instead of taking you back to Manhattan, every turn takes you deeper into Brooklyn. You exchange a puzzled glance with Steve as the familiar streets of your neighborhood come into view.

"Are we going where I think we're going?" you ask, leaning forward to catch Jake's eye in the front seat.

Jake turns, his expression a mixture of conspiracy and satisfaction. "Change of plans. We're taking you home."

"Home?" Steve repeats, his brow furrowing. "But the schedule had us back at the Plaza until the Central Park event."

"We only led you to believe that," Jake says, not quite meeting Steve's eyes. "Team decision. 

We don't trust either of you to actually rest if we take you back to campaign headquarters. You'll both be hovering over polling data and making calls until it's time for evening appearances."

"What?" you and Steve say in near unison, both of you immediately sitting up straighter. 

Jake's expression doesn't waver. "You heard me. You're going home to your actual home, and you're going to take a real break before tonight. The both of you are running on fumes." 

"Jake," Steve begins, his tone carrying that Captain America authority that usually brooks no argument.

"With all due respect," Jake interrupts, remarkably unfazed, "this isn't negotiable. You two need actual downtime before tonight. Sophia, Sam, Bucky, and I conferred with Pepper. It was unanimous, and Pepper pays my salary, not you."

Steve glances at you, a silent conversation passing between you. You can see the initial resistance in his eyes.

“We're confiscating your phones as well," Jake adds, putting his hand out expectantly. "If we need you, we'll communicate through the Secret Service agents."

You stare at Jake, mouth slightly agape, but realize you shouldn't be that surprised. The team has been protecting you both from burnout for months, orchestrating moments of respite amid the chaos whenever possible. Still, the boldness of this particular intervention catches you off guard, but you know he’s right. 

With a sigh of surrender, you hand over your phone. Steve hesitates a moment longer before reluctantly following suit. 

"Three hours," Jake says, pocketing both devices. "That's all we're asking. Eat something that isn't campaign trail food. Take a nap in your own bed. Change into fresh clothes. Just be normal people for a little while." 

The SUV pulls up to your brownstone, the one Steve purchased and that you haven’t spent more than a handful of days in since becoming his wife. It looks exactly as you remember—the freshly painted door, the window boxes that the property manager has maintained in your absence, the worn stone steps leading up to the entrance.

"We'll have agents downstairs," Jake continues as the Secret Service team conducts their standard perimeter check. "But inside, it's just the two of you."

"What about the press pool?" Steve asks, his sense of duty clearly warring with the temptation of a few hours of true privacy.

"Handled," Jake says firmly. "Why do you think we packed the news cycle for the first seven hours of your day?"

"And social media?" you ask, already anticipating that’s been covered, too.

“You surely noticed Peter Parker was your shadow across the five boroughs - he was gathering more than enough footage and photos to fuel the campaign until tonight.”

"You thought of everything," Steve observes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"That's my job," Jake responds with a smirk. "Now go. Rest. That's an order."

"Three hours," Steve agrees.

"Thank you," you add.

Jake smiles, genuine warmth replacing his earlier firmness. "See you at five-thirty. The car will be waiting."

As you step out of the SUV, the November air feels crisp against your skin. You and Steve walk briskly up to the front door, hand in hand, and a Secret Service agent opens it to let you inside. The brownstone welcomes you with familiar silence as the front door closes behind you. For a moment, you both stand in the foyer, as if reacquainting yourselves with the space that's meant to be yours but has seen so little of you.

"That was well-played by them," Steve finally says, his voice echoing slightly in the empty space.

"Very," you agree, taking off your coat and hanging it on the rack by the door. "But they're not wrong."

Steve follows suit, his jacket joining yours. "No, they're not," he admits, running a hand through his hair—a rare gesture of fatigue he allows himself only in private. "I haven't stopped moving since 5 AM."

You step closer to him, reaching up to loosen his tie. "And you were up at 4:30 checking polling data."

His hands settle on your waist, warm and steady. "You noticed that, huh?"

"Of course I did," you say softly, working the knot of his tie free and setting it on a small table near the front door. Then you tip your head up and kiss your husband. It’s sweet, soft, taking advantage of a moment you get to simply be together. He returns it in kind, and you feel the contentment bleeding from him into you. 

When you pull away, you rest your forehead against his chest and let out a contented sigh. "I'm starving," you admit, realizing you've barely eaten anything since the campaign breakfast at 6 AM. 

"Me too," Steve says, his stomach punctuating the statement with a rumble that makes you both laugh. "Let's see what we've got." 

You take his hand and lead him through the brownstone toward the kitchen. The house feels both familiar and strange—this space you've shared but never truly lived in together. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, highlighting dust motes dancing in the air and casting warm patterns across the hardwood floors. Your heels click against the wood, and you pause to slip them off, leaving them beside a decorative bench in the hallway.

"Much better," you sigh, wiggling your toes in relief. 

The kitchen is spotless and eerily untouched, yet somehow welcoming. Steve opens the refrigerator, his expression turning to surprise.

"It's fully stocked," he says, glancing back at you. "Someone thought of everything." 

You peek around his shoulder to see fresh produce, eggs, cheese, and various containers neatly arranged on the shelves. "Sophia," you guess. "She would remember we haven't actually lived here."

Steve pulls out ingredients—bread, cheese, deli meats, tomatoes, and lettuce. "Sandwiches?" he suggests, already moving with purpose around the kitchen. 

"Perfect," you agree, hoisting yourself onto one of the counter stools to watch him work. There's something mesmerizing about seeing Steve in such a domestic setting, his movements efficient yet relaxed as he assembles lunch. Your mind wanders back to the last time you were in this kitchen together, making chocolate chip cookies, and though things had been developing between the two of you, it was at that point when you started to feel the reality of your relationship and the roots of it being permanent, of going beyond a political arrangement, of genuine love and affection.

Steve must have been thinking along similar lines, because as he assembles sandwiches for you both, he says, “I never told you how nervous I was for you to come here for the Oprah interview.” 

"Nervous?" you ask, surprised. "Why? Because Oprah was coming?"

"No," he says with a small laugh, carefully slicing a tomato into perfect, even rounds. "Because you were. This was the first place that was really mine in this century. I'd had apartments, quarters at the Avengers compound, but this..." His knife pauses as he gestures around the kitchen. "I chose every detail. And I knew you’d been here before - for the nights around the wedding, but there weren’t emotional stakes back in June, and then suddenly I was seeing it all through your eyes."

You slide off the stool and move to stand beside him, picking up a knife to help with the sandwich preparations. 

"There was this moment after dinner," Steve says, glancing up with warmth in his eyes, "we had a few minutes before the team was going to prep for camera angles with us in the living room, and you ran your fingers slowly along the banister while we talked, then walked over and lingered by the windows. It was the first time I saw you truly relax around me."

"I didn't realize I was so transparent," you admit, watching as he layers turkey and cheese onto whole grain bread.

"Not transparent. Just... seen." He slides a completed sandwich toward you on a plate so you can cut it in half. "By me, anyway."

The simple statement carries weight that settles comfortably in your chest. 

You take a bite of your sandwich, the fresh ingredients a welcome change from campaign trail food. "You really see me, don't you?" you say after swallowing. "Even back then, when we barely knew each other." 

"I think I've always seen you," Steve replies, his voice soft as he leans against the counter opposite you. "Even when I was trying not to." 

You both eat in comfortable silence for a few moments, the simple pleasure of a homemade meal in your own kitchen feeling like an extraordinary luxury after months of catering and takeout in hotel dining rooms, busses, planes, and at campaign events. 

Steve finishes his sandwich in record time and makes himself another while you're still working on your first.

"Super soldier metabolism," you tease, watching him assemble a second sandwich with practiced efficiency.

"I've been running on fumes, remember?" he says in a pained voice. "Haven't had a real meal in years."

You study him as he eats, noticing the slight tension around his eyes, the way he occasionally rolls his shoulders to release stiffness. Steve Rogers, ever the soldier, pushing through every bit of fatigue he’s determined to ignore, and all without complaint.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, catching your contemplative gaze.

"Us," you answer honestly. "How strange it is that we've been married for months but this is the first time we’re getting to do this, be this.”

"Normal life," Steve says, nodding. "Just being together without a schedule, without cameras." His eyes hold yours, warm and thoughtful. "I want more of this. After today, regardless of the outcome." 

You set your sandwich down, suddenly emotional at the simple truth of his words. "Me too." 

Steve reaches across the counter, taking your hand in his. His thumb traces gentle circles on your skin, the gesture so familiar now it feels like a language all its own. 

"I keep thinking about what happens after," you admit. "If you win, if you don't, everything changes again."

"Some things change," Steve agrees, his voice steady. "But not us. Not this." He squeezes your hand gently. "I meant what I said last night." 

Heat rises to your cheeks at the memory of tangled sheets and whispered confessions. "I know you did. I did too.”

Steve finishes his second sandwich, takes a long drink of water, then wipes his mouth on his napkin and turns to face you. You look up at him and lick your lips, his eyes darting down to catch the movement.

"Come upstairs with me," he murmurs, his voice dropping to that low register that sends warmth spreading through your limbs. "We have two and a half hours left before we have to face the world again."

You step closer, your body fitting against his as naturally as breathing. "What did you have in mind, Captain Rogers?" you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice despite the way your heart quickens.

His eyes darken slightly as he looks down at you, his hand coming to rest on your waist. "A nap," he says with mock seriousness. "Jake's orders, remember?"

"Just a nap?" you challenge, raising an eyebrow. 

Steve's mouth curves into that half-smile that makes your stomach flip as his hand squeezes at your waist. "Just a nap," he confirms. "But I can't be held responsible for what happens before or after said nap."

You laugh softly, your hands sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders. "Then by all means, how can I refuse?"

Steve scoops you up in one fluid motion, drawing a surprised gasp from you as he carries you toward the stairs. Your arms loop around his neck, fingers threading through the short hair at his nape.

"Show-off," you murmur against his ear.

"Efficient," he corrects, navigating the stairs with ease despite your added weight. "We're on a schedule, remember?"

You’re up two flights of stairs in next to no time. 

The master bedroom is bathed in afternoon light, the cream curtains softening the November sun into a gentle glow. The bed is made with fresh linens—another thoughtful touch from whoever prepared the house for your brief visit. Steve closes the door behind you, though there's no one else in the house to hear or see.

Steve sets you down gently at the foot of the bed, his hands lingering at your waist as yours slide up his chest.

For a moment, you simply breathe together, the campaign, the election, the world outside all fading away until there's just this—you and Steve, husband and wife, in a quiet room on an extraordinary day.

His lips find yours with gentle precision, the kiss unhurried despite the ticking clock. Steve's fingers work at the buttons of your blouse while you loosen his belt, both of you unhurried yet deliberate. There's no need to rush—this stolen time is yours alone.

"I keep thinking about how surreal this is," you murmur as he trails kisses down your neck, your blouse now hanging open. "In a few hours, you could be the President-elect."

His hands pause their exploration, and he pulls back slightly to meet your gaze, his eyes serious despite the flush on his cheeks. "Or not," he says. “It’s always been a long shot.”

“But not an impossible shot,” you counter. 

He smiles, cupping your face in his hands. "No. Not impossible." The fire you see in Steve’s eyes is there - you know he’s not feeling defeated, just tempering expectations, optimistic but realistic. 

Your fingers trace the contours of his face, memorizing every line, every plane. The enormity of it all washes over you—not just the election, but this journey you've taken together, the unexpected path that led you here.

"Whatever happens tonight," you whisper, "this is what matters. Us."

Steve's hands thread through your hair, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. The intensity there makes your heart stutter. "Always," he agrees, voice low and certain.

You slide your hands down his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. A surge overtakes you—the need to show him with actions what words can't fully express. With deliberate slowness, you sink to your knees before him, maintaining eye contact as you undo his belt completely and lower his zipper with careful precision. His breath catches audibly, his hands moving to your shoulders as if to steady himself. You can feel the tension in his muscles, the way he holds himself with perfect control.

"You don't have to," he murmurs, though his dilated pupils tell a different story. 

"I want to," you reply, your voice soft but certain. 

His eyes darken further at your words, and he gives a small nod, surrendering to your touch. You ease his trousers down his hips, followed by his boxer briefs, revealing his already hard length. The afternoon light plays across his skin, highlighting the perfect planes of his muscled abdomen, the definition of his thighs. 

Your fingers trace up the inside of his leg, feeling the slight tremor that runs through him at your touch. You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his hip bone, feeling him inhale sharply at the contact. When you finally take him into your mouth, his strong but gentle hands come to cradle your head in his hands, not guiding, just connecting.

"God," he breathes, the single word heavy with desire. 

You take your time, savoring the weight of him on your tongue, the taste of his skin, the sound of his breath catching and releasing above you. The afternoon light streams through the curtains, casting a golden glow across his taut abdomen, highlighting the perfect definition of muscle beneath smooth skin. You watch his face as you move, captivated by the way his eyes darken and his lips part slightly with each slow stroke. 

Your hands slide up his thighs, feeling the powerful muscles flex beneath your touch. His fingers remain gentle in your hair, neither pushing nor pulling, just maintaining that intimate connection between you. You hollow your cheeks and take him deeper, drawing a low, rumbling groan from deep in his chest that sends a shiver of satisfaction through you. 

"You're incredible," he murmurs, his voice strained and husky.

You lose yourself in the rhythm, in his reactions, in the way his breathing grows more ragged with each passing moment. His thighs tense beneath your hands, and you glance up to see his head tilted back, eyes closed, lips parted. The sight of him—powerful, vulnerable, yours—sends heat pooling low in your abdomen. 

When his control finally breaks, it's with your name on his lips, his hands still cradling your face with impossible firmness that’s still gentle even as pleasure overtakes him and you eagerly swallow him down. 

After, he helps you to your feet, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and determination that makes your pulse quicken. His hands never seem to leave your body as he carefully removes each article of your clothing, scorching your skin, spiking the desire with each touch. He turns you both and presses your back up against the bedroom door. 

"My turn," he whispers against your mouth, the words a promise that sends even more anticipation coursing through you.

Steve is not slow in kneeling before you and hitching one of your legs up over his shoulder, burying his head into your wet cunt. His breath is hot against your most sensitive flesh, and you can't help the gasp that escapes your lips as his tongue makes first contact. 

Your back presses harder against the door as Steve's large hands grip your hips firmly, anchoring you in place. The contrast of the cool wood against your heated skin makes you shiver—or perhaps it's the intense way he's looking up at you, his blue eyes darkened with desire.

"Hold onto me," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that you feel more than hear.

You thread your fingers through his hair, the soft strands tickling your palms as he presses open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh. Each touch of his lips is deliberate as he works his way back to your core with agonizing slowness. His stubble creates a salacious friction against your sensitive skin, the slight sting only heightening your anticipation.

When he finally returns his attention to your center, you grip his hair tighter, your head falling back against the door with a soft thud. His tongue moves with purposeful precision, circling your clit before flattening against it, sending sparks of pleasure radiating outward. Your breathing grows ragged as he establishes a rhythm that has your knees weakening, grateful for his strong hands keeping you upright.

"Steve," you gasp, the single syllable carrying everything you can't articulate—need, love, desperation. 

He responds by doubling his efforts, sliding one hand from your hip to slip two fingers inside you. The dual sensation of his mouth and fingers working in tandem has you climbing rapidly toward release, your body tensing with each stroke. 

"That's it," he encourages against your flesh, the vibration of his voice adding another layer to the building pleasure. "Let go for me, sweetheart.”

The leg draped over his shoulder trembles as tension builds within you, coiling tighter with each expert movement of his mouth. Your fingers tighten in his hair, earning a low groan from him that vibrates against your sensitive flesh, the sensation pushing you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes through you in waves, your body arching against the door as Steve works you through it, his movements slowing but not stopping until you're gasping, oversensitive, and tugging gently at his hair to signal you need a reprieve.

He rises to his feet in one fluid motion, his hands steadying you as your knees threaten to buckle. His mouth finds yours in a deep, claiming kiss that has you tasting yourself on his lips. Despite having just found release, desire flares anew at the intimate gesture. 

"Bed," you manage between kisses, tugging him toward the mattress. "Now."

Steve follows willingly, his renewed arousal evident against your hip as you both stumble onto the freshly made bed. The sheets are cool beneath your hands and knees as you crawl up the mattress, Steve right behind you. He positions himself over you, his chest against your back, hips rutting against yours. 

His lips find the sensitive spot at the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine as his hardness presses insistently against you. You arch your back, pressing your hips back against him in silent invitation. His hand slides around to cup your breast, thumb circling your nipple as his other hand guides himself to your entrance. 

"Yes," you breathe, the word half-plea, half-permission. 

Steve enters you with one slow, deliberate thrust that has both of you gasping. He stills for a moment, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. The fullness, the connection—it's overwhelming in the best possible way. 

"I love you," he murmurs against your skin, the words reverent and raw. 

"I love you too," you reply, reaching back to touch his face, needing that additional point of contact. 

He begins to move, slow and measured at first, letting you both savor each sensation. His rhythm builds steadily, each thrust slightly deeper, slightly harder than the last. Your other hand clutches at the sheets, anchoring yourself as pleasure builds once more. The only sounds in the room are your mingled breaths, occasional whispered endearments, and the soft rustle of sheets beneath you.

"Faster," you plead, pushing back against him to emphasize your need.

Steve's restraint breaks at your words. His pace increases, each thrust more powerful than the last, the new angle hitting the intimate spot along your front wall that sends you to another level, and you moan. 

His hand slides from your breast down to where your bodies join, his fingers finding your sensitive bundle of nerves with unerring precision. The stimulation has you climbing rapidly toward another peak, your inner walls clenching around him as tension builds.

"Steve," you gasp, the word both warning and plea. 

"I've got you," he promises, his voice strained with his own building release. "Always." 

Your second orgasm crashes through you with surprising intensity, your body shuddering beneath his as waves of pleasure wash over you in relentless succession. Steve follows moments later, his rhythm faltering as he spills inside you with a deep groan that reverberates through your connected bodies.

For several heartbeats, you remain locked together, both catching your breath as the aftershocks of pleasure gradually subside. Steve presses tender kisses along your shoulder, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace that makes you feel cherished beyond words. 

When he finally eases out of you, you both collapse onto the mattress, limbs entangled, skin cooling in the quiet afternoon air. Steve gathers you into his chest, his arm draped protectively over your waist.

"That certainly not a nap," you murmur against his jaw, your voice languid with satisfaction, lips brushing against his beard.

Steve's chest rumbles with quiet laughter. "We still have time," he points out, but the way his hand roams your back and the push of his thigh between your legs suggests he’s not considering sleep just yet.

And you don’t sleep. 

You kiss, you grind and grope and pleasure each other some more. After what seems like far too soon but is an hour later, Steve coaxes you out of the bed, but into the shower where he fucks you again against the cool tiled wall. 

"It feels strange," you admit, wrapping a towel around your torso. "Being here when there's so much happening."

Steve nods. "Strange but good," he says, his shoulders squared but relaxed for the first time in weeks. "Jake was right."

"Don't tell him that," you say with a small laugh. 

Steve laughs, securing his own towel around his waist before stepping behind you to wrap his arms around your middle, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "Our secret, then." 

You lean back against him, savoring the solid warmth of his chest against your back, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. For a moment, you both stand there, reflected in the slightly fogged bathroom mirror—your skin flushed, hair damp, eyes bright. You look happy. Both of you. Despite the weight of expectation hanging over this day, despite the exhaustion of the campaign trail, despite the uncertainty that awaits.

You check the clock on the wall—nearly five o'clock. The bubble you've been living in for the last few hours is about to pop.

"We should get ready," you say reluctantly, running your fingers through your damp hair. "Car will be here in thirty minutes."

Steve nods, but instead of moving toward his clothes, he stays exactly where he is, arms around you, lips pressing warm kisses along your shoulder. "Five more minutes," he whispers against your skin, and you're tempted—so tempted—to give in, to stay locked in this private world where it's just the two of you, no campaign, no country watching, no history being made.

But duty calls, as it always does. 

"Five minutes," you agree, turning in his arms to face him. "But actual getting ready has to happen." 

Steve's eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles down at you. "Deal." His hands come up to frame your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones with such tenderness it makes your chest ache. "Whatever happens tonight," he says, his voice low and serious, "this has been the greatest adventure of my life." 

"Better than fighting aliens?" you tease, but your voice catches on the words. 

"Much better," he confirms without hesitation. "Fighting alongside the Avengers was about saving the world. This—" his hand gestures between you, encompassing everything unspoken, "—this has been about making it better."

The weight of his words settles over you, and you rise on your tiptoes to press your lips to his in a kiss that carries everything you can't articulate—gratitude, love, partnership, hope. 

When you pull away, Steve's eyes remain closed for a beat, as if he's committing the moment to memory. Then he inhales deeply, his shoulders squaring with familiar determination. 

"Time to get dressed," he says, dropping one final kiss to your forehead before stepping away. 

You both move with practiced efficiency, the routine of preparing for public appearances so ingrained now it requires little thought. Steve selects a fresh navy suit—the same color as this morning but a different cut. After taking care of your hair and makeup, you stand much longer flipping through the options in your closet, considering the wardrobe that has been expertly curated and tailored for you but that you’re largely unfamiliar with since these clothes have been here, not on the road with you. 

As you rifle through options, it doesn't help that your eyes keep being drawn to a very conspicuous piece at the very end. 

The conspicuous garment bag with your wedding dress. 

Your fingers brush against the protective plastic, memories of that day flooding back with unexpected intensity. The intricate lace, the delicate beading that caught the light as you walked down the aisle in that small Brooklyn church. It had been a practical choice at the time—a wedding arranged for political strategy, not romance.

"You were so beautiful that day," Steve's voice comes from behind you, startling you slightly as you hadn't heard him approach. His reflection appears in the mirror beside yours, his eyes soft with remembrance. "I could see that, and I knew you had to be great—Pepper had promised me she'd pick the partner I needed, but I never imagined I was meeting the love of my life." 

You chuckle, though your eyes glisten slightly with tears—partly because Steve's words move you, and partly because, in hindsight, you recognize that day was tougher than you ever initially allowed yourself to admit. 

"I didn't expect this, either," you admit, turning to face him properly. "Any of it. I thought I was making a political arrangement with a good man. I never imagined..." You gesture between you, at the intimacy that has grown between you, unexpected and profound. 

“You were beautiful that day, but you also looked so determined, so fearless, I was thrown for a loop.”

You laugh again. “Are you serious? I was walking down the aisle to marry Captain America, who was still technically a stranger to me since he’d ditched our first date to meet a former president instead, and I’d also had a rather tense conversation where I’d just revealed to my parents why I was really rushing in to a marriage that hadn’t been on their radar at all. I was all game face and determination because I was barely holding it together.”

Steve's expression softens, and he reaches out to cup your cheek. "I had no idea. Like I said, you seemed so composed."

"That's what you saw," you say, leaning into his touch. "Years of practice hiding nerves. But inside, I was a mess. There was no turning back. And I didn't want to, even though I knew it wouldn’t be easy. And then you took my hand and it felt..."

"Steadying," he finishes for you.

"Yes," you admit. 

"Even then, something about us just worked." His thumb traces your cheekbone. He sighs. “I wish we could do it all over again, do it right.”

You shake your head, responding immediately, “I don’t! There’s no way we’re here, like this, exactly this kind of in love if we’d done it any other way.” You take his other hand in both of yours as you continue, “This version of us is what I want for the rest of our lives.”

Steve kisses you fiercely, and when you break apart, he says, "You're right, I know you're right, but I didn't even propose to you."

You blink, surprised by the sudden intensity in his voice. "What?" 

"I never proposed," he repeats, taking both your hands in his. His eyes are bright with emotion. "You deserved that moment, at least. A real proposal, not a political arrangement hammered out over pitches and contracts."

A smile tugs at your lips. "Steve, we're married, that’s the important thing." 

"I know." His thumbs trace circles on your palms, a gesture so familiar now it feels like a language all your own. Then he reaches out to touch the garment bag, his fingers tracing the outline of the dress within. "We should renew our vows," he says. "After all this. A real ceremony, for us this time."

The suggestion catches you off guard, but warmth spreads through your chest at the thought. "I'd like that," you say softly.

A knock at the bedroom door - muffled as it’s filtered from the bedroom to the en suite bathroom - interrupts the moment. "Five minutes, sir, ma'am," comes the voice of one of the Secret Service agents.

"Thank you," Steve calls back, his eyes never leaving yours.

You turn back to your wardrobe. “You go, you’re distracting! I’ll be down in just a few minutes.”

“Alright,” he laughs. "I'll see you downstairs," he says, pressing one more quick kiss to your temple before moving to the door. He pauses with his hand on the knob, looking back at you with an expression that makes your heart skip. "Thank you. For everything."

Before you can respond, he's gone, leaving you with your thoughts and a closet full of clothes. You run your fingers over the options, finally selecting a dark green dress that complements Steve's navy suit. 

As you slip into the dress, your mind races with possibilities for the night ahead. The polls have been unpredictable, the race unlike any in modern history. By morning, your life could look dramatically different—or perhaps not. Either way, something fundamental has shifted during these months of the campaign, and there's no going back to who you were before. The woman who walked down the aisle in that wedding dress feels like a stranger now—someone who couldn't possibly have imagined where this path would lead.

You give yourself one final check in the mirror, smoothing your hands over the tailored dress that was built to fit your body like a glove, giving you confidence in your curves, and adjusting your hair. The face that looks back at you is tired but luminous, eyes bright with purpose and something else—a quiet confidence that wasn't there before. Whatever happens tonight, you're ready. 

next part: probably coming on April 4

Coming toward the end of the series, I'm back with a regular Friday update! Ta da! Are you proud of me? 🥹

Somehow I thought Election Day would be one chapter, but since it's such a big day, it was inevitable that it would need to be split in two - I just didn't know that until we got here hahaha! When I got to this point in the chapter, we should just be glad it leant itself to a natural enough breaking point. Story-wise there are just about as many scenes left for them for the second half of this very long and essential day.

But I'm also happy that we'll get to have one more chapter (and probably an epilogue...tbd on the election results).

(and tbh, I'm only 90% locked in on my decision for the election results...)

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[sowhatwereyousaying]

Prologue

summary: The calm before the storm...

warnings: age gap (reader is in their 20s and gong yoo is in his 40s); fake dating, pr

Her Perspective

I just wanted to go home.  

That was the only thing keeping me sane as I wrapped up one of the most stressful presentations of my career. Weeks of preparation, late nights, early mornings, and more caffeine than the human body should consume had all led to this moment.  

I should have felt proud. I should have wanted to celebrate.  

Instead, I was exhausted.  

As soon as the meeting ended, I barely held back a sigh. The moment I stepped out of the conference room, I knew exactly how I wanted to spend my night:  

Step 1: Get into the comfiest pajamas I owned.  

Step 2: Open a bottle of wine because, frankly, I had earned it.  

Step 3: Put on a feel-good rom-com to fill the gaping void of love in my life.

Step 4: Pass out halfway through and get the best sleep of my life.  

It was a perfect plan.  

Then Mia happened.

The second I pulled out my phone, her message popped up.  

📲 Mia: I JUST GOT A PROMOTION. WE’RE GOING OUT. NO EXCUSES.   📲 Me: CONGRATS!!! But also, no. Pajamas and wine are calling my name.   📲 Mia: Do you think I care??? You’re coming. I will drag you out of your apartment if I have to.   📲 Me: …I hate you.   📲 Mia: Love you too. Be at my place in an hour.  

I groaned, already knowing there was no escaping this. When Mia made up her mind, there was nothing in this world that could change it.  

So instead of heading home, I found myself begrudgingly making my way to Mia’s apartment, wondering how I had let myself get talked into this.  

By the time I got to Mia’s place, she was already in full celebration mode. Music blasted through the speakers, her vanity was covered in an explosion of makeup, and three different outfit choices were laid out on her bed.  

The second she saw me, she shoved a dress into my hands.  

"You’re wearing this."  

I held it up. It was short. It was tight. It was not what I had planned.  

I blinked. "This is a crime against comfort."  

"This is hot. And you will be HOT in it." Mia grinned. "Now go change before I do it for you."  

There was no winning.  

I sighed and changed, trying to ignore how much of my legs were on display.  

As I did my makeup, Mia absentmindedly flipped through TV channels before stopping on a celebrity talk show. 

I barely paid attention—until I heard his name.

Gong Yoo.  

I glanced at the screen. There he was, looking annoyingly good, lounging in his seat like he owned the world. His expression was somewhere between amused and exasperated as he stared at the talk show host.  

"You’ve had quite a reputation over the years," the host teased. "Lots of flings, lots of rumors. But no serious relationships."  

Gong Yoo smirked, lazy and completely unbothered. "I didn’t realize I was here for a life intervention."  

The audience laughed.  

"But seriously," the host continued, "are we ever going to see you settle down? Or is this playboy phase permanent?"  

Gong Yoo leaned back, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. "Tell you what—the next person I kiss? That’s it. I’ll marry them."  

The audience erupted.

Mia let out a dramatic gasp. "Oh my god. Whoever that is, Oh they will be lucky."  

I snorted. "Yeah, because look AT him"  

Little did I know, fate was planning a little something

His Perspective

I was supposed to be fishing right now.

That was the plan.  

I had just wrapped up my latest drama—a massive hit that had drained the life out of me—and was finally ready to disappear for a while.  

No cameras. No interviews. No scandals. Just me, a boat, and absolute peace.

Then the internet decided to ruin it.  

An old fling—someone I barely even remembered—decided to go viral.

💬 "I thought we had something special, but I never even got a callback." 💬 "Typical Gong Yoo, right? He’ll flirt, he’ll make you feel like the only girl in the world, and then—poof. Gone."

By the time my PR team got involved, the damage had already spiraled.

"You need to fix this," my manager said, pacing around my living room. "We need an interview. A statement. Something."  

I groaned. "I don’t care what some random woman says about me online."  

"Yeah, well, the public does."  

And that’s how I ended up on that stupid talk show.

The host wasted no time.

"You’re known for being a bit of a heartbreaker, aren’t you?"  

I forced a smile. "That’s what they say."  

"Do you ever plan to settle down? Or is this just who you are?"  

I clenched my jaw, already done with the conversation.  

If I denied it, they'd say I was lying. If I played along, they’d say I was an arrogant jerk.  

So I made a joke.  

"Tell you what—the next person I kiss? That’s it. I’ll marry them." 

The audience went wild.

I thought that was the end of it.  

I had no idea what I had just set into motion.

At The Club

I wasn’t supposed to be there.  

But my friends insisted. "One night out," they said. "Relax a little," they said.  

So I went.  

I stood in the corner, minding my own business, until—  

She crashed into me.

Soft lips. The scent of perfume and something sweet.

It was so fast, I barely had time to react.  

But then—then—I realized: she had no idea who I was, at least not right now  

And just like that, something in me clicked.  

So I kissed her back.  

And when she finally opened her eyes and realized her mistake—when she looked at me like she was about to have a full-on breakdown—I smirked.  

"Guess that means we’re getting married."

It was meant to be a joke.  

Then the flashes started. The whispers. The cameras.   And suddenly, it wasn’t a joke anymore

a/n: I knew I wanted to give a lil background of what happened before the lil club incident, and the trashy tv program viewer in me LOVES to build suspense hehehehehe. I hope yall enjoy this <3

taglist: @preppyfella @muchwita @shadow-tumbler @dyingswanpavlova @ririgy @lariem-blog2 @uurtekass @elliette-laine1 @breakmeoff @sarah-bear706318 @voxslays @celestialstar111

[sundarksposts]

'Closure'

Author's note:

hello! this is a part ii of 'what a fool'

i would like to clarify, i'm used to writing angst so probably most of my stories are gonna be angst and underlining that this is just a story! also, for a reference go watch Sidemen video 'Do all the Sidemen think the same' Heated edition.

content warnings: angst, swearing and fluff!

i'm sorry if there are some mistakes because English is not my first language. Please do not copy my story to other platform. I worked so hard on this.

btw, enjoy!

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

It’s been three months since the great tragedy in Greece, and Y/N was still having a hard time going to work. Seeing Harry at every shoot—and trying to avoid him—was pure hell for her.

James, your best friend and the only person who knew about what had happened, helped you during shoots. Well, at least for a month.

Josh had picked up on your behavior—going home quickly after shoots, avoiding being in the same room as the boys since Harry would be there, and skipping pub hangouts. Before Greece, you were always up for a night out with them.

Noticing the change, Josh asked Y/N for a one-on-one meeting. You finally told him what had happened in Greece. He understood and assured you that he wouldn’t tell anyone. Instead, he offered to personally organize your work schedule.

Overwhelmed with gratitude, you sobbed, thankful for him—because that meant you could still keep your job.

And of course, Tobi noticed your bloodshot eyes during one of the shoots and asked James about you. However, since James was terrible at lying—and because he trusted Tobi the most out of all the boys—he ended up telling him the truth.

Y/N was mad at James for a little while but eventually understood his reasoning. In the end, she decided to tell Tobi everything herself. He listened to her story and gave her some great advice.

Harry on the other hand was acting nonchalant whenever Y/N was on the set. He tried to talked to her once but when he had the time, she was already gone. Harry didn't want to approached James as he was scared James was gonna yelled at him.

Y/N trusted Tobi and Josh. They had made things easier for her—especially during the Cheap vs Expensive shoots. Josh arranged for her to be the camerawoman for the other team, keeping her away from Harry.

She was so grateful to them.

Well, until today.

Y/N was on set, prepping for the final MoreSidemen shoot. It had been a long day, especially since Simon had planned six videos to be filmed in one day. While the boys were in the break room, the production crew was busy setting up.

You, Kon, and James were discussing camera placement for the last video of the day and who would be operating which camera. In the end, you and James were assigned to the main camera.

You sighed as James gave you an apologetic look.

“You good?” he asked as you tied your hair into a messy bun. You nodded, trying not to let your emotions show. Operating the main camera meant you’d have to look at Harry.

“It’s just been a long day. I hope this last video runs smoothly,” you said, hoping for the best.

James studied your face. Ever since Greece, he could sense a change in you—like you were more guarded. He didn’t like it. He wished he could do something to help.

But he couldn’t.

“Are we ready to start?” Simon asked.

Both you and James nodded in response.

“Yes, boss. Everything is ready. We can start now,” you replied.

Simon went to gather the boys. As they passed by, you tried to look busy, helping James adjust the camera. But little did you know, a certain blonde boy had been stealing glances at you the whole time.

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

“Welcome back to Sidemen: Agree or Disagree!” Vik announced.

Harry and Ethan cheered, yelling, “Yay!” as the rest of the boys clapped.

“Alright, first question, please! Let’s get right to it,” Vik said, turning to Fin to read it out loud.

“People should be required to pass a parenting test before having kids,” Fin read aloud.

Immediately, the boys began discussing and arguing, splitting into agree and disagree sides.

You and James giggled quietly, amused that they were already so fired up over just the first statement.

Y/N noticed that Harry, JJ, Tobi, and Vik sided with agree, while Ethan, Josh, and Simon leaned toward disagree. You tried not to be judgmental, respecting both perspectives—though, deep down, you found yourself siding with Ethan, Josh, and Simon just a little bit.

After the boys settled their argument, Fin read the next statement.

“I could survive in the wild for a month,” he announced.

“Can we get, uh—can’t we get, uh—what’s… what’s the wild?” Simon asked.

You instinctively zoomed in on him with the camera.

Fin clarified, “A forest in the United Kingdom, with no civilization for about eight miles.”

With that, he began the countdown, and the boys scattered between Agree and Disagree.

Josh and Harry confidently stood in Agree, while JJ, Tobi, Simon, Ethan, and Vik went to Disagree.

The discussion quickly turned into a debate, with the usual back-and-forth. Then, out of nowhere, Vik switched to Agree.

“Absolutely not!” Simon exclaimed, pointing at Vik in disbelief.

Tobi and Ethan immediately chimed in, fueling the argument further.

Watching the chaos unfold, you and James couldn’t help but laugh. You remembered so clearly—the Sidemen Camping video. It was pure hell.

You also remembered how attractive Harry looked that day—the way he was completely unbothered by the rain, effortlessly chopping wood with an axe. And then, as if the universe was testing you, he suddenly took off his t-shirt, going completely topless because it was soaked through.

Oh, you had definitely rewatched the edits on TikTok more times than you’d admit—secretly agreeing with most of the fangirls.

As the boys argued, Harry kept stealing glances in your direction. James noticed but decided to brush it off—after all, both of you were operating the main camera. 'He’s probably just looking at the camera' James thought.

Meanwhile, Harry defended his stance, explaining exactly how he would survive in the wild. Midway through, he shifted from Slightly Agree to Agree, prompting the boys to reset their positions once again.

“It is acceptable to sleep with work colleagues,” Fin stated the next query, making your eyes go wide. Who the fuck came up with these questions? You hid your face behind the camera, feeling James beside you, just as shocked. Noticing your tension, James saw your jaw clench.

“What do you mean?” Josh asked Fin.

“Have sexual intercourse with people you work with,” he replied.

You glanced at Harry, who was looking down, avoiding your gaze, while Tobi crossed his arms, trying to hide his emotions. You hated being in this situation, yet you couldn’t run away—you had to remain professional.

The seven Sidemen began taking their positions between Agree and Disagree as your gaze followed Harry. He was still looking at the floor, trying to avoid everyone’s eyes—especially yours—until he finally glanced up and saw you across the room. After a brief hesitation, he walked over to Agree, joining Simon and Josh, who stood at 'Definitely Agree.' Meanwhile, Ethan, Vik, and JJ positioned themselves at Disagree, while Tobi slowly made his way toward Agree.

You and James glanced at each other, trying to act as if nothing had happened.

“I really want to stay in the middle, man,” Ethan said to Josh and Simon.

“What do you mean, disagree? I mean, if your work allows it,” Simon argued.“Actually, yeah…” JJ muttered, starting to walk over to Agree, while Ethan remained hesitant.

“If the work allows it,” Simon repeated, but Ethan still looked uncertain.

“You know what, actually—it depends on the company. If you’re working at a massive bank” Harry chimed in, glancing at you.

You caught his gaze but quickly looked away, trying to avoid his stare. As the boys’ debate grew more intense, you felt suffocated, struggling to hold back your tears.

“I’m going to the toilet,” you whispered to James, who only nodded, watching as you quietly slipped away, not wanting to make a scene.

While the boys were still arguing about the prompt, Harry noticed your figure slipping away. A wave of frustration hit him—frustration at himself. Why couldn’t he just tell you the truth? That he did remember that night in Greece. The talking, the holding hands, the dancing and the kiss.

It was the night he finally got the girl he had a crush on.

As they watched you leave, Josh and Tobi exchanged a knowing look. They both understood why you had left—after all, they had discussed the situation privately. Josh sighed, while Tobi shrugged sadly.

Harry, oblivious to their silent exchange, suddenly found the courage to go after you.

“C-Can we cut for a minute?” he asked Fin and the boys.

“Yeah.”

“Sure, mate,” they all responded, allowing him to leave.

Without hesitation, he took off after you.

Josh and Tobi were surprised by the youngest Sideman’s sudden action, yet they couldn’t help but feel proud. 'At least he’s finally going to talk to her' Josh thought.

James, also caught off guard, felt a sense of relief.

They needed closure.

Y/N leaned against the sink, trying to compose herself. You put your hands on your face and started to cry, feeling suffocated as your chest tightened—until you heard a knock on the bathroom door.

“Go away, James,” you sniffled, your hands still covering your face.

“Actually, it’s me,” Harry said softly. His presence surprised you, leaving you unsure whether to let him in or not.

“I’m not going anywhere until you open the door,” he added, as if reading your mind. You sighed.

Y/N opened the bathroom door, allowing Harry to step inside as you grabbed a tissue.

“What do you want, Harry?” you asked, avoiding his eyes. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him—not in this state.

Harry gazed at you, guilt written all over his face. He knew he was the reason you felt this way.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Great! Never felt better,” you replied, rolling your eyes before finally meeting his gaze.

His tired expression and the guilt in his eyes were undeniable. Yet, despite everything, you couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he looked.

‘Why does he have to be this beautiful?’ you thought, but you quickly shook your head, trying to push those thoughts away.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I do remember that night. B-but I—I was scared. I was scared of losing you as a friend, a-and I don’t know…” he trailed off as you waited for his next words.

“I feel like you’re this gorgeous girl, and I don’t deserve you. A-and I feel intimidated by your relationship with James as well. That night… I remember everything. I remember your laugh, your warm hugs, your smile, your touch, and your kiss. I’m just… a-a coward,” he admitted.

“I am so, so sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, reaching for your hands. You didn’t pull away, which, for Harry, was a small relief.

“Why didn’t you say anything before, Harry? Why now?” you asked quietly.

The blonde boy shrugged. “At first, I thought it would be weird because we work together… and I’m technically your boss,” he replied.

You let out a small chuckle at his statement.

“But after coming back to London, going back to work, and seeing you again… it just made it harder to ignore my feelings for you,” he admitted.

Your heart thumped. Did he just confess his feelings? you thought.

“Yes, I just confessed my feelings for you,” he said with a smile, stepping closer to you.

“Stop reading my mind, boss,” you giggled, not stopping him from closing the distance between you.

“I forgive you,” you continued, “but it’s going to take some time for me to fully let you in. And you have a lot of dates to convince me.”

Harry grinned. “Okay. Dinner tonight?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yes.” Then, without thinking, you pulled him into a hug.

“Lots of dinners,” you giggled against his chest as he wrapped his arms tightly around you.

"I’m sorry I was a jerk,” he murmured, resting his head on top of yours.

You nodded and looked up at him. “A cute jerk, though,” you teased.

He chuckled, his gaze soft as he wiped the lingering tears from your cheeks. Slowly, he leaned in.

Your heart raced as you closed the distance, pressing your lips against his—those soft lips you had missed so much.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you grinned.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. They’re probably looking for you, boss,” you said, pulling him along.

“Yeah, let’s go. By the way, it smells in here… did you poop before I came in?” he joked.

You gasped and slapped his arm. “I did not!” you exclaimed.

He laughed as the two of you walked out together, hand in hand.

As the two of you stepped out, you froze. Standing not too far from the exit were all the Sidemen boys, James, Kon, and John.

You and Harry exchanged a glance before looking back at them.

Suddenly, they all started clapping, while JJ stood there, completely confused.

“Finally!” Josh, Simon, Tobi, and Ethan exclaimed in unison.

“Did you guys make up?” James asked hopefully.

“Did I miss something?” JJ asked, still confused.

Both of you laughed at their reactions before nodding at James, who immediately pulled you both into a hug.

“Thank God!” he exclaimed before letting go.

“I couldn’t stand watching you two any longer,” Ethan chimed in. “One of you had the ‘I want to murder you’ look, and the other had the ‘I love you, please forgive me’ look.”

Everyone chuckled at his comment.

"We’re good now, guys. Josh, you don’t have to schedule me separately anymore,” you said.

Harry gasped. “Wait… is that why I never saw you on my team?”

You nodded, giggling, while Josh raised his hands in surrender. “I neither confirm nor deny,” he replied, not wanting to argue with the youngest Sideman.

“Oi! Who else knew?” Harry asked, turning to Josh, who was already walking back to the set to finish the video.

“I knew, Bog. She told me,” Tobi chuckled, grabbing Harry by the shoulder and ruffling his hair.

Simon and Ethan’s eyes went wide as they gasped in unison.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” they both exclaimed.

You shrugged. “Simon, because you weren’t observant enough. And Ethan, because you were too close to Harry.”

Both of them mumbled, “Fair.”

With that, all of you headed back to the set. As you walked, Harry grabbed your hand and smiled at you, and you smiled back.

“Let’s finish this video, okay? I’m starving,” he said.

You nodded as he let go and returned to his position, ready to wrap things up.

Okay, are we ready? Next statement,” Finn said as the boys took their positions.

Across the room, Harry looked at you and smiled. You smiled back, feeling a sense of relief—you finally had the closure you needed.

After all, that was all either of you ever needed.

-fin-

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Author's note:

Thank you so much for reading these fics guys! I would like to thanked @sdmnpact for encouraging me to write again and I did said it was going to be 3 parts but I thought, 2 parts are okay.

And I did gave you the happy ending and I think it is well deserve.

I will write more Harry fics and probably gonna start about George as well but stay tune!

[loveln4]

CHARLES LECLERC x OLD FRIEND!READER

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask you, neither should you

- Hozier, Like Real People Do

synopsis: Charles Leclerc bumps into an old acquaintance and spends the summer with her.

warnings: mentions of lestappen lmao

Italy was beautiful. It was her first time there and she was traveling alone.

She had visited the local gelato shops, grabbing the most unique of flavors. Rose, caramelized fig, and salted pistachio raspberry.

She was on her fourth cone when she spotted him. Y/n had to do a double take to make sure it really was him.

He was looking down a fruits, a bag of flowers in his hand. She poked his ribs, and he turned confused by this action. He didn’t know who she was until her perfume reached his nose.

“Ciao.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “How’ve you been?”

They hugged longer than they should’ve. Charles didn’t want to let go of her, aching to touch something so familiar. Something untouched by the somber years he had after she left. She was something happy.

Walking down the main street together, they didn’t say a word to each other, not until they sat down at a small family owned restaurant to eat lunch.

“How is your mother?” She said, gently picking up her ice cold beverage and drinking it. Her french was weak as she hadn’t lived in Monaco for long, leaving after six years.

Charles was so entranced by her face that he didn’t answer immediately. “She— she’s well.” Y/n looked different from when they had last seen each other, but she was the same girl he met in that art museum on a Saturday morning.

“That’s good.” They fell into silence, unsure of what to say next. “How’s racing?”

He lightly smiled and replied with a shrug, “It’s—It isn’t what i expected.”

“Why’s that?” She tilted her head. “From what i’ve seen you’ve been doing well.”

This gained Charles’ full attention. “You’ve been watching me race?”

“Here and there whenever i’m with my friend. He’d have it playing on the tv when i’m over.” The waiter had placed down their food, “Thank you.”

He? Charles was jealous, which was unusual. He hadn’t seen her for 9 years, and the old feelings he had for have rushed back. “He is a fan?” He said after taking a bite of his meal, “What team?”

“Ferrari, though you aren’t his favorite…”

“Huh.”

“What does ‘huh’ mean?” She giggled at this.

“Just that i’m more handsome than my teammate.” He cockily said, leaning back with his hands behind his head. “Don’t get me wrong, Carlos is attractive, but uh…have you seen me?” Charles wiggled his brows.

This made her burst out laughing. “Remember when I called you the prettiest boy i’ve ever seen? You still are.” Her laughter died down, “You look good, Charles.”

“You—you look heavenly.” He said, forearms resting on the table. He cleared his throat to clear the air forming between them, “What—uh, where are you staying?”

Y/n opened the door to her airbnb. It was an open house with large windows that were easy to open and close, a backyard that leads to the ocean, and a beautiful bedroom. The bed’s covers was embroidered with many colours, the pillows white with gold accents.

“This is very you.” He said as he looked around, “Very, very you.” He whispered as he touched a small canvas that she brought with her from back home.

“Good, because i wouldn’t have wanted to buy a house that didn’t represent me.”

“You bought this?” He asked stunned.

“Mhm,” She hummed in response. “I needed to move from home. I needed something different.” Y/n picked up a large canvas and hung it on a wall, “I couldn’t think of anything to paint, so i decided to move somewhere with unfamiliar surroundings.”

“Maybe you should move back to Monaco, couple of things have changed.” He suggested, leaning back against her kitchen counter, “Mum would be happy to see you again.”

“First of all, you just want me close. Secondly, i’d really like to see her again.”

As the night went on they laughed at their shared memories, “Remember when you kissed Max?” Y/n asked Charles, laughing in his face at the memory.

“I thought it was you!” He exclaimed as he stirred the sauce in the pot. “It was dark—like, really dark. And I could smell your fresh, clean perfume, and so when I saw a figure I—i just turned the person—who i thought was you! And just kissed them.”

She perched on her tippy toes and whispered near his ear, “With tongue, i heard.”

Charles groaned and covered his face but quickly recovered, “Well i do speak French after all.”

“You aren’t french though.”

He rolled his eyes and in french said, “You know what i mean.”

“Show me what you mean.” She muttered to herself in french while washing the dishes.

Little did she know; he heard that.

Charles’ pasta was good.

Not great, not scrumptious.

Just good.

“Lorenzo has always been a better cook than you.” Y/n said as she slurped up the last strands of spaghetti.

Charles scoffed at her insult, “Well, if you’re any better you could’ve helped.”

“Ha! But if I helped than i wouldn’t have been able to taste your horrible pasta.”

Charles has probably rolled his eyes more than ten times the entire night due to y/n’s stupid insults, but it made him happy.

It gave him joy that he was trying so hard to feel these past couple years.

Y/n and Charles washed dishes, cleaned the benches, and threw out the rest of the pasta because that wasn’t food that anybody could eat.

Charles began to grab his things, the flowers he carried were now wilted and somber. He was about to exit when something made him turn around to face y/n.

“You need me to stay over?” He asked her.

She started to nod, “Yes. I do need you to stay over.”

And so he did. They spent the rest of the night giggling, painting and eventually, when it came to resting; they slept in the same bed.

A/N: needed something fun and nice because i haven’t been in the best mood recently (as some could tell..). I hope you enjoyed this one and remember:

REQUESTS ARE OPEN