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mouthfulloftoothpasterry · 2 days ago

Text

Cracked

Summary: Now that Harry has time off from the fire station, him and Y/n spend (lots) some time doing what they've missed. Kind of a continuation of this! Firefighter!Harry x author!reader

Warnings: loooottsss of smut, some humiliation, all that jazz! Also, plz ignore typos lol

Wc: about 4k!

Now that Harry has hired on more guys at the fire station he and Y/n both have more time for each other and Harry has been loving every second of it.

He just got finished with hiring a new guy, who will be taking a big load off, he will be dealing with more of the little, less urgent calls that Harry has had to tend to during these low staffed months.

“Well, we hope you like it here Bryan. I know we're happy to have you on with us. You'll be saving us- specifically me, a lot of time.” He gives Bryan a polite smile, standing up from his desk to give his new hire a tour. He slips his phone out of his pants, opening iMessages and clicking on his wife's contact.

He walks out of his office, walking past the giant fire trucks and into one of the little rooms all the guys hang out in. “This is the room you'll be in the most, probably. Guys like Jim just hang out here, watching tv. You know, the guys who don't have a wife or anything.” He jokes, making Jim flip him off. He's one of the oldest firefighters, he and Harry have formed a tight bond throughout all the years they've worked together.

“You've got a wife?!” Harry nods, showing his lockscreen off to Bryan which is a photo of him and Y/n on their wedding day. “Yeah, married for eight years.” Bryan's eyes shoot wide, “How old are you?!” Harry laughs, “I'm almost twenty eight. I got married young.”

Harry closes the door, walking up into a fire truck. “Feel free to look around for a second then I'll show you everything.” Harry clicks back into him and his wife's messages, his thumbs covering over his keyboard as he plans out his messages.

Giving a tour to the new hire, I'll be off soon. Be ready for me, baby 😈

He chuckles at his own message before slipping his phone back into his pants, where it should probably stay until he gets home if he's going to continue to send texts like that.

“You know your way around a truck, right? You worked a county over for two years?” Bryan nods, finding everything himself. Harry knew he didn't have to give him much guidance since he's already worked in the field for a couple years.

After a couple more minutes of talking and finishing out the tour, he says his goodbyes, then heads back home.

He walks into their house, finding it silent with no traces of his wife. He creeps up the stairs, walking into his wife's office without any announcment. “Hi, baby.” He smiles, coming up behind her where she sits and writes. “Hi, H. I didn't know you'd be home so soon.” Harry frowns, kissing the side of her head. He slides his hands onto her shoulders, gently massaging at her muscles he knows are sore from sitting at her desk all day.

“I sent you a text. Hired on a new guy, now I'll have more time with my baby.” He smiles, sliding one of his hands into her tank top. His fingers instantly find her nipple, pinching at it. She squeaks, pushing his hand away. “H!” She grumbles, “I'm trying to write.” He shakes his head, yanking her up and into his arms.

She almost gets whiplash from the sudden movement. His arm is wrapped around her waist tight, pinning her to him. “I don't really care.” He admits, leaning down to kiss her. “Babe,” she whines, and Harry cuts her off again. His mouth hovers over her, teasing her as he bumps his nose against hers. “I really need to write, I have to finish this.” He playfully rolls his eyes, pressing a peck to her lips.

“I can just take you right back there really quickly.” He nods back to her reading chair. “Nothing with you is ever quick, and we both know that.” She pulls at his suspenders, pulling them down so she can kiss him before she turns to start writing again. “So you don't care about your husband?” He jokes, pushing her office chair back in for her despite him just asking for her to ignore her work.

“I care about him very much. You don't care about your wife's career?” Harry wraps his arms around her one last time, giving her a good squeeze and a loud kiss on her neck. “I care about it more than my own. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to start dinner for me and my beautiful wife.” He smiles, smoothing his mustache down, shooting her a wink and walking back out of her office.

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

“Good morning, my baby.” Harry mumbles, smiling and wrapping his arms around Y/n. He pulls her closer, kissing over her neck. She giggles sleepily, pushing him away. “Your mustache is tickling me, babe.” He rubs it into her skin, laughing with her.

He sits up, kneeing the mattress as he yanks her legs up. “already?!” She laughs, threading her fingers behind his neck. “I'm trying to make up for lost time! I'm still recovering from those almost two months we went without.” He slides his hand down, quickly sliding his hand up and down his cock to get nice and hard for her before he pushes her little sleep shorts to the side.

“Just be a little gentle, though. We've kinda been going at it.” She softly jokes, whispering as if the bubble around them would pop if she spoke too loud. They're both still enjoying the early morning glow. “Awe, baby.” He pouts, rubbing her cheek with one hand and expertly hovering over her with his other hand in the pillow next to her head. “I don't really care if you're sensitive.” He mumbles, kissing her jaw.

Her mouth opens to respond, but nothing comes out. “Don't open that pretty mouth of yours unless you want me to fill it.” She lets out a shaky breath, closing her eyes to try to calm herself before she cums from his words alone.

He slides in without warning, making her breath get stuck in her throat. “Oh my god!” She clings to him, her nails scratching at his shoulder.

Their headboard slams against the wall as he thrusts in and out of her. Harry grabs onto it, trying to silence it so the neighbors don't complain like they had the week before. That left Y/n embarrassed the rest of the day.

“You're already being so pathetic, baby. C’mon, have a little pride.” He softly laughs in her face, looking at how she's turning into putty beneath him. She turns her head the other way as if it would stop him from hearing her whines. She bites her lip, listening to him and trying to have some pride instead of falling apart the second her husband slides his cock inside of her.

Harry gives up on holding the headboard. He grabs her jaw instead, squishing her cheeks together. “Let me hear you. Haven't been shy for twelve years, baby. Don't start it now.” She lets out a cry, her hips rolling to meet his thrusts. He slips out of her, making her almost choke on air when his leaky tip hits her clit.

“Look what you did. I was fucking you so good until you got too greedy.” She pants, trying to think of any words to say but only gasps for air coming from her lips. “Apologize or I'm not letting you cum.” He slowly, painfully slaps his big, red tip against her clit, smiling as he covers it in precum.

“I'm sorry, H. Fuck, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry.” She repeats it over and over again, sliding her hand up and cupping his cheek. He gives her a big, beautiful smile. “Awe, it's okay, my baby. Just don't do it again or I'll have to cum in you and leave you needy.” She nods, pushing his hair back and keeping eye contact with him him while he speaks to her.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes” she whispers, frantically nodding her head.

“Then answer. With words.” He slides back into her, finding his rhythm again after she threw him off.

Harry pushes her sleep shirt up, revealing her perky breasts. He slides his hand across one, squeezing it before he slides his fingers over her nipples. He knows he's teasing her, but he takes his time feeling the silky skin, admiring them before he pulls her nipple into his mouth. He suckles at it, closing his eyes before he bites at the bud. She lets out a pained gasps, but obviously likes it because she clenches around him.

Harry's thrusts grow faster, and the headboard slamming against the wall only gets louder- the canopy style bed didn't help their issue either. Harry moans in her ear, groaning at her name.

“Almost there, baby?” He questions, now rubbing her clit. She nods her head frantically then wraps her legs around his waist and pulls him closer to her. “Just-” her voice breaks, clinging to him. Her back arches into him, her head digging into the pillow. “Fuck, just a little more, babe.”

His hips work overtime while he tries to get both of them to their highs, his arm sandwiched between their bodies while he continues to rub her clit.

“Can I cum in you?” He rushes out between breaths, asking her before he busts inside of her. “Yes, please, H. I need your cum in me. I want it leaking out of me for the rest of the day.” He cums the second that dirty talk falls out of his mouth. He doesn't get to hear her that often, the first time he read her dirty scenes in her book he was taken aback. From then on he's been trying to get her more comfortable using that nasty mouth he didn't know she had in the bedroom.

Y/n follows right after, cumming at the feeling of his hot load inside of her.

Harry collapses on top of her, laughing in the post-sex glow. He kisses the top of her head, almost tempted to go back to sleep. “Oh, my baby.” He groans, rolling over and taking her with him so she's now laying on top of him. “You were so good for me. You always are.” His thumb wipes a tear that is rolling down her cheeks.

“Are you okay? I didn't go too hard, did I? You know I get a little wrapped up sometimes.” She shakes her head then rests it onto his chest to relax. “No, it was just a lot… and you're still inside of me.” His chest rumbles with a laugh, choosing not to respond and instead rub her back as she listens to his heartbeat, falling back to sleep.

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

“I'm so happy we get a nice night together, babe. I'm not used to this.” Y/n smiles, walking over to the couch with a large bowl of popcorn in her hands. She sits down on Harry's thick thighs, making herself comfortable as he scrolls through a random streaming service to pick a movie. “I know. I'll take you out next weekend, for an actual date.” He kisses her shoulder, wrapping an arm around her hips and resting his hand onto her exposed thigh.

His fingers absentmindedly trace the lace lining on her shorts. “I don't care what we do. As long as we're together.” Y/n mumbles, holding a piece of buttery popcorn up to Harry's mouth. He grabs it with his tongue, pulling it into his mouth then sucking her finger. She gasps, pulling her finger away from him. “You're so weird! Get a life.” He laughs, wrapping both arms around her and shoving his face into her neck.

“What do you want to watch, baby?” Y/n shrugs, not too focused on finding a movie. She'd rather stay up and talk all night like they used to do when they first got together, and when they had time together more often. “How's work going? Are you relieved you don't have to be on their every beck and call?” Harry nods, pulling her even closer to himself so her back is right against his chest.

“I'm very relieved. How is writing going? Hopefully very well, now that you've found your cure.” He winks with a smile before he reaches into the popcorn bowl. She playfully rolls her eyes, cuddling into him and throwing a blanket across them. “Writing is going well.” She lets out a relaxed sigh, resting her head on top of his. “I'm a little over halfway done, so before I know it it will be out.” Harry smiles, giving her a big squeeze and a tiny shake of excitement.

“I'm so proud of you. I can't believe you've finally made your dreams come true. I remember talking about this when we were teenagers. I'm just so unbelievably proud of you, my baby.” She blushes, looking down. She's completely overwhelmed by his random outburst of pride. “Thank you so much, H. I couldn't have done it without all of your support throughout these past couple years.”

He gives her another squeeze. “Y’know, all of my coworkers' wives have read your book.” Y/n raises her eyebrows. “Good or bad news?” Harry chuckles, rubbing his knuckles against the silky skin of her thigh. “Good. I think it's sweet that the whole world knows our love story.” She lets out a sarcastic laughs. “I wouldn't say the whole wor-” he cuts her off, shaking his head. “No,no. Don't underestimate yourself, my little number one best selling author.”

Y/n blushes again, “thank you, Babe.”

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

Harry is busy getting ready for bed, standing up beside the bed where he lotions his worn hands. He's definitely had a few bad burns through his career, so he tries to take of them now that he's all healed.

Y/n walks out of their closet, tiptoeing over to Harry and standing in front of him, waiting for him to notice. It takes Harry almost a full minute to notice her. He looks her up and down, taking in the sight of his wife dressed in nothing but a light blue teddy. He reaches out, feeling the thin lace material.

He grows a big smirk on his face. “I thought you said you were ‘too sensitive’ because we were ‘going at it’ too often.” He doesn't make eye contact with her at all, just staring at her exposed skin. The lingering doesn't cover up a bit of her with the sheer fabric, especially since she opted out for the matching bra and thong.

Y/n ignores his words, lifting on her tiptoes to kiss him. Harry moans into the kiss, pulling her in and wrapping an arm around her waist. Her hands roam his bare chest before she slides them back, smoothing down his muscled back.

She takes a step away, her eyes rolling down Harry's body. His bulge is nearly busting out of his plaid sleep shorts.

Y/n crawls onto their bed, on her hands and knees as she lowers her chest to the bed and raises her ass into the air, spreading her legs apart for him. Harry smiles, his body buzzing with electricity. He's practically drooling as he reaches out, his hand coming to her ass.

Y/n looks back, “Are you going to take your sweet time?” Harry bites his lip, pinching his eyebrows together. “Speak to me like that again and I'll fuck your mouth till you cant speak.” She smiles, “Put it in, H. Come on.” She wiggles her hips, falling down to her forearms.

Harry slaps her ass, pushing his sleep shorts down so he's in nothing but socks. He knees the bed, yanking her hips and shoving her up the bed so he has more room. “Look at how ready I am for you.” She wiggles her hips yet again, pushing back to try to rub against him. After another beat of silence she huffs. “C’mon, I didn't dress up for you just for you to not fuck me.” He laughs, rolling his eyes.

She flips around, obviously frustrated. “C’mon, H. Don't you want me?” She pulls his hands into hers, placing them on her breasts. “Of course I do. I just want to see how pathetic you can get. You know I love to see my baby beg for me.” He smiles, pushing her back into the bed. He leans down, pulling her into a kiss. She smiles, wrapping her arms around his neck.

His hand snakes down between them, rubbing her pussy. She moans, softly biting at his lip. “You look so pretty, dressing up just for me.” He sits back up, his hands sliding down her body.

“Get back down.” He says, easily flipping her around onto her stomach, yanking her hips up. “Show off that pretty pussy, baby.” She returns to her previous position, back on her knees and forearms.

She wiggles her ass, softly laughing. “I love when you throw me around.” He smirks, kissing her lower back.

Harry savors the sight before he grasps his cock, lining it up with her hole and sliding it. His hand settles on her ass to keep himself somewhat stable. “M’” Harry groans, “I fucking love this pussy.” He slides his hand down her back, grabbing at her hair.

He softly yanks at her hair, making her smile. He pushes it away, giving her scalp a quick scratch with the pads of his fingers.

Her cheek is pressed into the mattress, moaning as he thrusts in and out of her. Harry pushes her hair back starting at her forehead. “My baby looks so pretty when she gets fucked.” She gives him a blissed out smile, fluttering her eyes back open to make eye contact with him.

Her face twists, her brows pulling together as she moans his name, gripping the sheets when he hits her g-spot.

Harry thrusts into her deeper, trying to pull the same noise out of her.

“I'll never get tired of this.” Harry gasps, letting out grunts every time he slams back inside of her that only makes Y/n clench tighter around him.

They hear faint cracking noises, but chose not to say anything as they chalk it up to house settling noises.

“Me either, H. Fuck- I love your cock so much. It feel so good-” she moans, her knuckles turning white as she squeezes onto the sheets. “Good inside of me.” She finally finished her sentence, letting out a big breath of air. Harry's head falls back, his mouth dropped open in pure pleasure.

He lifts a leg up, trying to get deeper inside of her. “Oh, that's good baby. Keep squeezing me.” She listens to him, trying her best to stay clenched around him even though her mind is blank and the only thing she can say is his name over and over again.

Harry pants, “Getting close?” Reaching his hand around to rub her clit.

They hear it before they feel it, a loud crack then they feel the bed completely bust beneath them.

Harry doesn't waste a second, continuing to thrust his hips as if he didn't just break their bed from endless nights of fucking his wife until they were both lulled to sleep.

“Har-” Harry shakes his head, “ignore it baby, I can tell you're almost there.” She obeys him, ignoring their broken bed- that continues to break as he finishes fucking her.

She cums quickly, gasping his name, and Harry soon follows- completely filling her up to the brim with his hot, sticky cum.

They take a second to catch their breath before coming back down to earth.

Harry carefully pulls out of her, placing a kiss on her hip. Y/n turns back, pushing her hair away from her face where stray strands stick to the half dried tears on her cheeks. “You okay?” Harry asks, helping her dry her cheeks.

She nods, letting out a yawn.

They both take in their surroundings, speechless at the state of their once neat bedroom. A lamp from Y/n’s nightstand is knocked over and laying on the floor, while their bed is basically in bits under them.

Harry sighs, sitting up. “Let me assess the damage. I'll see if I can fix it.” He steps down onto the floor, kneeling to see what they did. The slats under the mattress are completely busted and their wooden bed frame is cracked in half. He winces, looking back up at his wife. “Absolutely no saving this, baby. We're going to have to buy a new one.” She softly laughs, preparing to step off.

“No, the lightbulb broke and I don't want you to get splinters.” He pulls her into his arms bridal style. “Off to the guest bedroom.” Y/n laughs, throwing her arms around Harry's neck.

“Yeah, we'll deal with that tomorrow.”

📜⋆.ೃ🎞࿔*:･🕰-'♡'-

“I completely forgot about this.” Y/n sleepily chuckles while standing in the doorframe of her and Harry's bedroom. Harry looks back, holding a dustpan full of chipped wood. “Yeah, we definitely did a number on it.” He tosses the wood bits into a trash can, bending down to sweep the rest.

Y/n watches his back muscles contort while he pulls up the broken pieces of their headboard. She takes a step closer to him, her hand running over the skin. Harry glances up at her, ignoring it and returning to his work. He quickly does a double take. “You can't be serious?! We just broke our bed?!”

A/N: HIIIIII WOW THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF YOUR SUPPORT ON A CURE 🥹 I didn't expect this! Feeling so so thankful and excited everyone is still interested in my writing! Any words you have to say about my writing- big or small, funny or serious (specifically the horny ones are honestly hilarious- shout out to the person who was ovulating and "sliding down their couch") mean the WORLD to me ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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kaisentine · 3 days ago

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imagine rin snitching on you to sae about your little crush on him.

“…that was 11 years ago, sae.”

“you wanna watch big bro again?” the black-haired boy groans out in annoyance. “uh-huh!” you gleam out while smiling—flashing him with your braced teeth. you’ve been asking rin that question a lot recently and it’s starting to irk him a little bit. he isn’t stupid, he can put two and two together to compose a theory about you having something a little more than friendly feelings for his sibling. however, he can’t deny the fact that he does want to see his brother play too. that’s what brings you to the neighborhood’s field to watch the muddy-red-head kick around some stupid ball. it looks like sae didn’t seem to care about the two pairs of eyes watching him—it makes you question whether he even remembers rin shouting to him 30 minutes prior. “girl, you don’t even like soccer.” he deadpans next to you with this hands shoved into his jacket’s pockets—that is a very true statement—and the fact you don’t know anything about the sport other than playing against other people to shoot a ball into a goal. you stay silent to contemplate the answer (you’re lowkey just distracted by the way sae moves are so languid). “hey, i watch you play too!” you retort, suppressing the urge to punch his shoulder. “that’s because i ask you to,” so he’s doubling down and admitting he actually forces you to watch him play? “but last time i checked, i don’t see big bro asking you.” he finishes before sticking his popsicle back into his mouth. there’s no arguing with that so you don’t respond any further.

rin is very observant—he can tell your body stiffens whenever sae comes onto your radar even just for a second. the way you stop mid-conversation to hold your breath when he asks rin (and you but you do nawt speak) what you guys want for dinner when you stay over. rin can’t contain his laughter when his brother leaves the room. “what are you laughing about?” you sound annoyed and flattened after holding your breath—he has to hold his hand up to signal you to just wait until he’s done laughing. “what the heck was that?” he says in between chuckles. you catch onto what he means by that… you aren’t as sneaky as you think you are, are you? “it wasn’t that funny!” you finally get to punch his shoulder in embarrassment after he makes it very apparent that you are quite obvious. despite the fact you haven’t ever actually vocalized to him that you like sae yet, you basically already have. but he’s like an ongoing court case—everybody is innocent until proven guilty.

it’s the way you refuse to go anywhere in the itoshi house unless you’re with rin. he thinks you’re insufferable when you have to insist there’s a ghost who doesn’t allow you to go to the kitchen to get a glass of water—good thing rin is an exorcist! he begrudgingly leads you downstairs only to lean against the wall to wait for you to finish getting your water. oh but if sae is also there? you crawl your way back up the stairs with rin following close behind you, whispering displeased questions. “you just said you were dying of thirst!” he whisper-shouts the moment he closes his bedroom door—he’s getting real annoyed of your antics. “not anymore…” you’re pathetic, making him do a lot just to become a scaredy-cat? “i’d rather not drag a dead body out of my room.” he alludes as if you were actually going to die of dehydration.

you can’t just (basically) live at the itoshi household without interacting with sae at least once. panic begins to set in your stomach when you hear shuffling from behind rin’s bedroom door—is it a robber? is it a murderer? oh no, it is much worse—it’s sae! you hear the doorknob twist and it’s too late for you to hide under the bed or maybe the closet… aw shit—he’s already standing there in all his glory with rin’s training bag. “oh, it’s you.” he says in sight of seeing a familiar figure on his younger brother’s bed. “where’s rin?” he asks and cocks an eyebrow when you don’t respond immediately. why did he have to go looking for him at the worst time? (which is all the time) “h-he’s in the bathroom…” bruh wtf goes through your head which you mentally slap in absolute cringe at your stutter. “oh okay, i’ll leave his bag here. bye.” he drops the bag on the floor before taking his leave—without closing the door! you’re too flushed to care about the gesture. when rin eventually does return to his bedroom, he’s met with the sight of an open door and his friend looking traumatized on his bed.

or that one time where you accidentally clung onto sae after getting an adrenaline rush from a horror movie rin really wanted to watch. you didn’t understand why sae insisted on sitting next to you on the couch when there was a perfectly open spot beside rin. “…and i’ll blow your house in!” a crazed man wielding an axe says before hacking the white door in-front of him the scene was the equivalent to actually being chased and you subconsciously gripped anything beside you which turned into full on hugging. “uhm…” there’s a voice beside you that brings you back to reality. you look at the direction of the voice then hesitantly look up to whatever you’re hugging. oh. my. word. you are clinging onto sae’s arm. safe to say rin was in the middle for the rest of the movie viewings.

“can you just admit it?” rin grumbled after a match with another school. “no idea what y’er talkin’ ‘bout!” you sing-song happily while extending your hand to give him the water-bottle he asked for. his movements halted, the towel on top of his head being left there to rot. he looks at you like he hates you for saying that, he snatches his water-bottle like it’s a crime for you to even be holding it. the man in-front of you is absolutely tired of your bullshit that he has tolerated for at least 3 years. “admit it right now.” he’s a lot more serious and anticipating an answer—more than any other situation he’s asked you in. “legit, no idea what you’re talking about.” there’s a lot of things you do need to admit, like how you still need to admit that you’re the one who added the vinegar in his soy sauce… “you like big bro, don’t you?” he bluntly states. “w-what makes you think that?” you stutter like the one time sae directly spoke to you. “everything.” it’s disturbing how much rin means to you that you actually finally admit your feelings.

it’s like you’re the 3rd child of the itoshi family, being at the airport to watch (the love of your life) sae depart for another country. there were tearful goodbyes which you wanted to relate to but you couldn’t because then it would out you for liking him because you never really talked to him anyway. he was exchanging goodbyes with each of his family members—his dad, then his mom, lastly rin. okay… why’s he looking over to you… “it’s okay to cry over this, i know you’ll miss me.” he winks, his stupid bangs actually looking good for once—it feels like every blood cell in your body is rushing to your cheeks and ears. “why’d he say that…” you turn to rin who is beside you after sae turned his back towards everybody for who knows how long. “i told him.” he blurts out. “RIN!!!!”

your feelings were definitely not resolved that day. you still have silent beef with rin for him outing you, you didn’t even know he snitched until he told you! the last time sae was in the country other than for u-20, he had a really bad comeback with rin—making you ice over your affections (not an effective way for getting over somebody btw).

“so?” he’s condescending. the absence of his bangs make you realize how much more grown he looks now. however, the thing that you really take note of is his eyes. sure, he’s grown more into his face but the way his eyes are half-lidded and no longer the bright annoyed ones make you really question everything.

gosh—literally every time he speaks to you, you just can’t make up the words. that ‘that was 11 years ago, sae’ was probably all your confidence for the next 11 years to come. “a lot can happen during a decade.” you push through to retort, clutching the bag that hung lazily over your shoulder. out of anywhere, he chooses to confront you like this—after a game?

“i didn’t even say it myself, that was rin!” you defend yourself, not letting yourself give into his advancements. he steps forward and you know he’s shorter than rin but fucking hell… “i changed a lot, didn’t i?” it’s a rhetorical question—he knows you can tell. it’s like he was testing the waters because when you don’t respond but you don’t react violently either, he continues, “i’m not stupid either. you don’t think i couldn’t tell?”

which event was he referring to? what if he was referring to when… oh not now. “okay, so what if it was true? that doesn’t mean i like you anymore.” you scramble around your thoughts to find words. “too bad, i still like you.”

ugh, i waited this long.

ALSO I JUST WANNA THANK EVERYONE 🙁🙁🙁 thank you guys for 100 followers :)

#ᥫ᭡ love note #thought of this idea while doing and listening to something so unrelated #THIS WAS FUN TO WRITE #I DIDNT PROOFREAD #sae brainrot is actually getting to me #guys am i fopping😅#bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #blue lock x reader #sae x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #bllk imagines #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi

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auraisereigh · 2 days ago

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"For Her, Always"

oneshot

Garrick Tavis x Riorson reader Request: Garrick x riorson little sister (she is a 2 year with Bohdi they are bff) they fell in love when they were little and now she is a rider but they hide what they feel to not upset Xaden, but the some guy flirts with her and we get MAD JELOUS Garrick and he hurts the guy on challenges, Xaden notices and they have a talk so then reader and Garrick can be together (Love confession Bridgerton style) wc: 6.8 ☆ no specific spoilers. Uses pronouns: she/her.

Masterlist ☆ Dragon guide ☆ Star's story ☆ Empyrean guide ☆ Support me

If there was one thing about Garrick Travis then it was that he was attractive, always had been- even when he was younger. I would be lying if I said I didn't feel something for him. And maybe, just maybe, I would have said something by now if it wasn't for the fact that he's best friends with my brother.

Xaden.

He has enough on his mind. Adding to that is the last thing on my mind. Even if that means I'll have to keep my feelings to myself. Even if that means my heart will keep yearning for what I can't have. At least I can still stare at him. From a distance, in the practice room. It's better than nothing I suppose.

"You're staring." Bodhi muzes next to me. I shoot a small glare his way as I continue to wrap my hands for sparring. "Am not." I respond tense.

Second year is more difficult and stressfull than it seemed. RSC hanging over my head. Xaden has done his part in preparing me but that didn't make it less terrifying and seeing as it's unpredictable when leadership would come and get us, well, that just makes it worse.

Not that I have seen a lot of Xaden lately, he's been occupied with a certain Sorrengail.

That thought brings me back to where I am. Xaden is training the youngest Sorrengail on one of the mats in the corners, Garrick not far away from them as he practices with his sword.

And I'd hate to admit it but I am staring.

After I finish wrapping my hands I stand and pick up my daggers. They had always been my preferred weapon. Light but easy to use.

I go through my usual warm up routine. Swinging them around. It's all going smoothly until I hear a voice call out. "Looking good, beautiful."

I glance toward the voice, only to find Oren—the overconfident third-year with a cocky grin plastered on his face—walking toward me. He’s twirling his sword as if to show off, his steps relaxed.

“Your technique’s good, but I think you’re missing something,” he says, a smirk on his face.

I raise an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “And what would that be?” He shrugs, a look of mischief appears in his eyes. “A partner. You know, someone to make things more… interesting.” He takes a step closer, lowering his voice. “Maybe someone who can keep up with you.”

I roll my eyes and focus back on my daggers, spinning one lazily between my fingers. “I’m perfectly fine. Thanks though.” I reply sarcastic, focusing back on my daggers. In the corner of my eye i catch Garrick's gaze.

But Oren doesn’t back down. “Come on, beautiful. You’ve got moves, but I bet I could teach you a thing or two. Maybe over a Meal?” His grin widens. I shake off the shiver that runs through my spine. An uncomfortable look on my face.

"Back off Oren." Bodhi's voice cuts through the tension. "She's already got someone to spar with." Bodhi's voice is on the cold side, almost as sharp as my brother Xaden's.

I give Bodhi a grateful smile as Oren retreats a step, his hands up in surrender. The smirk on his face is still present and I can tell he's not finished. For now maybe. But not forever.

♤

I stand by the surrounding crowd. All our eyes are on the mat, at the fight that is happening. It's a good match-- the matches before this one were a little meh but this one is actually good, we might be onto something.

The match ends after the second year taps out. From the corner of my eye I can see Garrick talking to Emmeterio. Why would he talk to him?

"Next match. Seifert and Travis." Emmeterio announces and my heart jumpes in my throat. That can't be a coincidence can it? Garrick against Oren not even a day after the small incident in the sparring room.

I can feel Xaden's eyes on me but I don't turn to face him. My eyes are solely on Garrick as he takes his place on the mat. His face holds the sole emotion of anger.

Oren charges first but Garrick side steps him, around his attack. Oren tries again but Garrick takes a hold of his arm, twisting it and Oren let's out a groan.

I can see Garrick say something to Oren but it's too quiet for me to hear. Garrick starts twisting his arm at an unnatural angle. He puts his leg between Oren's and he falls backwards on the mat. I knew Garrick was a good fighter but he's really good.

Garrick easily straddles Oren, a dagger at his throat and I wouldn't wish the look upon Garricks face to anyone. Not even my worst enemy.

He moves his dagger slightly, enough to draw blood but not enough to seriously injure him. I hold my breath at the sight. There is no way Garrick would actually kill him right?

He presses the blad harder against Oren's neck. I hear the familiar tap against the mat, he taps out. I let out the breath I'd been holding, Garrick slowly gets off him. He takes a step backwards, his dagger still in his hand.

I also take a step back, most people in this room night not know what this means but some do. I can feel bodhi's and Xaden's eyes in my back, burning holes.

I can see Xaden follow Garrick out of the sparring room and I don't hesitate to follow. I follow them quietly until they stop in a dark alley.

"What was that supposed to mean?" Xaden snaps at Garrick. His voice full of authority. I stay hidden behind the wall.

"He was flirting with her last night." I hear Garrick argue, frustration laced in his tone. "I'm aware of that. I saw it to but she can defend herself." Xaden voice grows bored.

"You're telling me you don't care that an asshole was flirting with your sister?" The frustration in his voice grows harsher.

“Of course I care,” Xaden snaps. “But I trust her to handle it. You, however, handled it as though you were issuing a challenge. That’s not protecting her—it’s claiming her.”

Garrick falls silent for a moment, his heavy breathing the only sound in the alley. “Maybe I am,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a weight I’ve never heard before. My breath catches in my throat.

“You don’t get to do that unless you’re willing to back it up,” Xaden warns, his tone razor-sharp. “You don’t get to make her your responsibility unless she’s choosing you. So tell me, Garrick, what exactly are your intentions?”

There’s a long pause before Garrick speaks, but when he does, his voice is steady. “My intentions are to love her. To protect her. To be the one she can turn to for the rest of her life. If that’s claiming her, so be it. I’ve loved her for longer than I care to admit, and I’m done hiding it.”

I press my hand to my mouth, trying to contain the gasp that threatens to escape. Did he just say…?

“And what about her?” Xaden challenges. “Have you even thought about what she wants? Or is this just about you?”

“It’s about her,” Garrick snaps back. “It’s always been about her.” “Then maybe you should say something to her instead of throwing daggers at every man who looks her way,” Xaden retorts. “Because this whole display? It’s not going to win her over. Talk to her. And for both your sakes, stop making me the middleman.”

I hear footsteps retreating, the sound of Xaden walking away. My heart pounds as I realize I’m now alone with Garrick, hidden just around the corner.

I take a shaky breath, stepping out of the shadows. “You could’ve just asked me,” I say softly.

Garrick whirls around, his eyes wide with shock. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough,” I admit, stepping closer. “Is it true? What you said?”

He looks away, running a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter—” “It does matter,” I cut him off, my voice trembling. “Because I’ve spent so long trying to convince myself that what I feel for you is one-sided. That you could never see me as anything more than Xaden’s little sister. And now you’re telling me that you… that you’ve felt the same way?”

His gaze snaps to mine, his expression a mix of hope and disbelief. “You… you feel the same?”

I nod, my chest tightening as the words spill out. “I’ve been in love with you for years, Garrick. But I thought you’d never… I thought it wasn’t possible.”

He takes a step toward me, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek. “You have no idea how hard it’s been, keeping my distance. Watching you with Oren last night, I just… I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“And today?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “On the mat?” “I wanted him to know,” he admits, his thumb brushing against my skin. “That you’re not just some girl to flirt with. That you’re… everything to me.”

I can’t help the tears that well in my eyes as I lean into his touch. “Then stop keeping your distance,” I whisper. “I’m right here.”

He doesn’t hesitate. His lips find mine in a kiss that’s both fierce and tender, years of longing and unspoken words pouring into that one moment. His arms wrap around me, pulling me close, and for the first time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

When we finally pull apart, his forehead rests against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “You’re my everything,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

I smile, my heart lighter than it’s ever been. “You’ve already done enough,” I whisper. “But I wouldn’t mind seeing you try.”

♤

#garrick tavis x reader #garrick tavis #fourth wing #iron flame #onyx storm #the empyrean #xaden riorson #bodhi durran #xaden x reader #xaden riorson x reader

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angstywaifu · 1 day ago

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Everyone Has Secrets - Aaric Graycastle

Request: Aaric x reader where the reader is a rider but also a princess of another Provence, but she kept it a secret from everyone because she ran away to be a rider to fight venin because she didn’t want her people to suffer. A/N: This is my first time writing for Aaric so I hope you guys like it. I've seen a few requests come in for him now so I'll definitely be working on them and hope to improve my writing for him.

Warnings: The below contains spoilers for Onyx Storm. If you have not read Onyx Storm do not read the below!

Masterlist | Support Me

“What’s up with you and Aaric?” Sloane whispers to me as Devera asks Violet about her trip.

“Nothing. Why’s that?” I ask as I look up at her.

“Because he’s been staring at you since he sat down. It’s like he’s trying to read your mind.” She informs me.

I turn my head and meet Aaric’s piercing green eyes. And Sloane is right. The way he’s looking at me is like he’s trying to figure something out. And it’s like me looking at him confirms what ever it is he needs, quickly turning his attention back to the front of the room. What was that about?

“Maybe he was trying to see if we were ok? He’s been gone a while.” I whisper back with a shrug.

She shakes her head. “No. This is something else.”

Devera turns her attention back to the rest of us, putting an end to our conversation. It doesn’t take long for me to feel Aaric’s eyes on me, but I don’t turn to meet them this time.

Something had clearly happened while he was away with Violet and the squad she had put together. But I had no way of telling what it was.

Throughout the rest of our classes I feel Aaric’s eyes on me every now and then. But I couldn’t pin point why. And it honestly had me on edge. I’d never seen Aaric like that towards anyone since our time here. I had planned to ask him what his problem was, but his seat at our table remains empty during dinner.

“We’re going to go train, want to come with?” Sloane asks me as we stand up from our table.

I shake my head. “I’m going to have an early one tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I tell her as I back away towards the dorms.

She just nods and lets me go, knowing Aaric’s weird mood towards me had put me on edge. I was glad she’d opted for the let me be approach rather than distract me with training or plotting how we could find out what was going on.

As I push through the door to the dorms, someone grabs me from behind, causing me to yelp which echoes in the empty hall. I turn around to fight back, grasping a dagger in my hand which hangs in the air once I see the familiar green eyes I’d felt on me all day. Green eyes that feel like they’re staring into my soul.

I open my mouth to ask him what the hell is going on, but he just drags me up the stairs to the first year floor and down to his room. He shoves me inside before closing the door behind us, leaning back against it to block any attempt I might make to leave.

“What the hell is going on?” I demand, wanting to know why his behaviour towards me had changed so much since his trip.

“Seems you’ve been keeping secrets. Princess.”

My eyes go wide at his words, my dinner threatening to make an appearance. Shit. How the hell did he know? No one knew where I was from. Nowhere in Navarre knew who I was. Unless… shit.

“Everyone has secrets.” I say with a shrug, trying to play it off.

“Oh trust me, I know.” He replies cockily, causing me to narrow my eyes at him. What the hell did that mean. “And you probably would have gotten away with yours if I hadn’t gone with Violet.”

“What are you going on about?”

He pushes off the door and walks over to his desk. Going through the bag he was yet to unpack from his trip. He pulls out a frame, holding it out to me. I grasp it in my hands, turning it over as dread washes over me. Staring back at me is a painting of me with my parents done not long before I’d left. The family Id left behind to come and do something. To protect them from a war that would more than likely come our way one day. There was no way I could deny what Aaric had figured out.

“I always thought your eye colour was unique. Such an interesting shade of blue. Sometimes looking purple when the light hit it them right.” He tells me as he leans up against the desk, watching me take in the photo. “So you can probably guess the shock I got when we land in Hedotis, and we’re greeted by people with the same coloured eyes. The same ones I’ve been looking at since July. And then when I go looking around, I find this sitting on a desk.”

I look up at him, not sure what to say or do. I had thought my secret would be safe forever. No one here had ever been to Hedotis, and I honestly thought no one would ever go there. But now Aaric stood in front of me, waiting for answers.

“What are you going to do? Force me to go back? Go get whatever reward they want for my return?” I snap at him, shoving the painting back at him.

He shakes his head as he places the painting next to him on the desk. “Fuck no. I want to know why though. I have my reasons, but what are yours? Why make that big of a journey to come here of all places?”

His reasons? What the hell did that mean? Pretty sure it was going to be my turn to interrogate him after this at this rate.

“Because I didn’t want to sit back and do nothing.” I tell him as I walk over to his window, looking out over the forest below. “I was sick of us turning a blind eye to what could potentially come our way. Pretending that everything was fine and blissful. When over the ocean, people were dying. I needed to make a difference, even if my parents wouldn’t. All they cared about was marrying me off to make alliances. Give another province an heir that would make them allied to us. Even though we would never back them up if they needed help. I needed to do something.”

Aaric doesn’t say a word. Silence falling over us. I turn around to see him looking at me, a smile pulling at the edges of his mouth.

“Good. Because honestly your people are kinda shit.” He jokes as he steps away from the desk to walk over to the door.

“Not so fast Aaric.” I say, causing him to turn and look at me with a cocked eyebrow. “Now it’s your turn. Why do you have your reasons?”

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #the fourth wing #the empyrean #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x reader #aaric fourth wing #aaric graycastle #aaric graycastle x reader #aaric x reader #onyx storm #iron flame #onyx storm spoilers #onyx storm fanfic #rebecca yarros #empyrean series

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laora-ryn · 1 day ago

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Just in case anyone was wondering, I am in fact a federal employee and I am in fact having A Fucking Time Of It

In roughly chronological order, here's all the things that have fucked us over the last two weeks:

Hiring freeze effective immediately, which involved rescinding final offers to people who were about to start their job. A final offer is something you can get a mortgage with btw. It's what you get after months of paperwork. It's something you move cross country for. Eighteen people just at our hospital had a final offer rescinded

A demand for a return to in person work, with no explanation given for why they want this so badly. No explanation on people who have teleworking written into their contracts, or people who have teleworking as a reasonable accommodation

Related to the hiring freeze: no creation of any new jobs in even a preliminary way, even to prep to fill existing vacancies after the 90 days are over

Closing of all DEIA teams groups, webinar series, webpages, department gatherings... Anything you can think of. This included the queer teams based communities that were just a place for people to chat

Related to this: our acting secretary sending out an email that sounds straight out of the fucking Gestapo, where "we are aware of efforts by some in government to deliberately redefine DEIA positions in an attempt to keep their jobs. If you know of this happening, here's an email line we've set up for tips. There won't be adverse consequences for reporting, however, failure to report may have adverse consequences"

What appears to have been trying to be a total freeze on federal spending, which threw literally everything into chaos, I was not able to follow it at all, but the hospital is still running so I'm assuming money is happening somewhere

Two strange emails from OPM.gov, marked EXTERNAL, saying they're testing a new distribution list and to please reply yes. These were considered so universally sus by employees that they had to come down from central office and confirm that yes, these are legit, please reply

A day later, an email from that same external address offering voluntary resignation, which I'm pretty sure is the bit that's been all over the news for (checks notes) being word for word the same email musk sent to Twitter before proceeding to Not Pay Them

A restriction on communication and travel. "No speaking engagements or attendance at public facing events, seminars, or conferences (unless approved by chief of staff) for 6 months. VA only events are excluded." Which was later clarified to mean "well if you're going for continuing Ed, as long as you aren't presenting, it's ok" but then backtracked to "it's probably ok but you still need approval which can take upwards of a month." Why are they restricting speaking at conferences? It's not a money thing because traveling for VA events still costs money. It's like they're looking to prevent staff from interacting with anyone external, for some reason

And today, an email this morning that "leadership has received guidance from the office of personnel management [regarding the EO about "gender ideology extremism and restoring biological truth"] and is working to execute the EO fully, faithfully, and thoughtfully."

This afternoon at 4:30, this began with an all employee email saying that all personal pronouns are being removed from Outlook display names by IT, which was a system implemented several years ago and broadly popular! But nope, we'll need to go back to guessing what genders new coworkers named Quinn, Alex, Morgan, and Taylor are.

(oh I forgot! I can't use the word gender at work anymore. Using Proper Terminology (as interpreted by our ~~~Illustrious President~~~) in all communications at work is now required)

It's been a fucking week and a half and I am so goddamn tired guys. Sorry I haven't been on again but I'm spending most of my energy on Not McFucking Losing It rn

#mine #politics #send me strength guys everyone i know is ready to snap #i probably forgot some stuff in the insanity. this is just me going down the new email folder i have labeled 'fuckery'#im taking monday off for a mental health day. who knows what ill come vack to on thursday!

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yessirplease69 · 7 hours ago

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❝Above The Clouds & Among The Stars❞

Synopsis: Moments belonging to the relationship between you and your childhood friend, which has evolved over time. Caleb still believes that hiding his feelings from you is the most suitable choice.

✈ Content: caleb x fem reader, caleb headcanons, nsfw, explict sexual content, suggestive (mature content), drama, angst, fluff, reader being slow for not realizing how caleb is in love with her, caleb being so loving, caleb being possessive, reader is a virgin, the final part maybe happens just before the explosion?, there are many references that are found in the history of the game.

✈ Word Count: 4K

♫ Caleb playlist on Spotify: here.

a\n: ✎─ It's been so long since I posted here, finally college gave me a break. I wrote this while listening to ♫ Tinashe - Cold Sweat ♫ 50 Cent - Just a Lil Bit ♫, so you guys could say these songs were playing on the radio in the garage (spoiler lol). I feel like he would listen to songs like 50 Cent's, it really fits his style... Hope u enjoy it!

Caleb, during his high school years, is part of one of the senior classes and he has been assigned the role of class monitor for Physical Education. Although he is not in the same section as you, his role is incorporated into your core subjects, which means you encounter him more frequently in the gymnasium or in other sports areas. Occasionally, you bump into each other in the hallways, despite both of your schedules being different.

Caleb, who is always looking after you, ensures that you have all the necessary items for school, helping you choose the appropriate gym clothes for physical exercises and new supplies. This includes preparing breakfast for you and his Gran, washing an apple, and packaging it perfectly for you to take for a snack. He always wears a radiant smile on his face as he takes the strap of your bag to secure it on his left shoulder, since his right shoulder is occupied by his backpack. Caleb never allows you to take it back, as it is difficult to go against the strength of this man, who stands at 6 feet 3 inches tall, and you simply have to accept this, even if you grumble from the passenger seat of his car all the way to the school entrance.

Caleb, who has always been so affectionate only with you, is constantly touching your arms, back, cheeks, waist, and tenderly kissing your hands, even making random drawings on their palms while he is captivated by you as you excitedly share about your day. He is the type who loves physical touch and believes it creates a connection between souls because he loves you so deeply that it hurts, and this man feels that pain when he touches you. Most of the time, it is an innocent affection, and he just wants to have you close, as it is not possible to have more than that.

Caleb, who sees you growing physically and mentally with each passing day, becomes possessive and jealous of anyone who looks at you in a way that only he is allowed to. Every night before going to bed, you have conversations about boys, hoping to hear the same response come from his lips: "Don't trust those guys, pip-squeak. You still don't get how they can be mean and shady." However, with all the strength he has left, he tries to ignore it all and pretend that it does not affect him, especially since it should not interfere with your romantic or sexual life... Oh, in a rather convenient way, he will interfere with that.

Caleb, who has a toned and defined body since he exercises a lot to maintain it and prepare for when he becomes a fighter pilot in Deepspace Aviation. This boy is huge (in every sense), looks like a fridge with a chest and back as solid as iron, and he always fears breaking you when you are in his arms of pure muscle. And of course, it is inevitable not to notice teenage girls from different grades drooling when he is exposing his defined torso while walking out of the boy's locker room with the other guys. Your friends often ask you for his number, and you do not understand why you are making a sour face at them while a strange feeling hits you.

Caleb, who is naturally very skilled at winning plush toys from the claw machine. He has left his entire collection for you, however, it is still likely to find a single cute and fuzzy stuffed animal in his room, comfortably sitting on the dresser next to his bed. He always thinks of you whenever he looks at it.

Caleb, who is fucking other girls while thinking of you. It is obvious, he is an 18-year-old teenager in the process of development, and it is not possible to confront testosterone because he needs to satisfy the urges that puberty presented to him. However, he cannot remove you, your scent, or your beautiful body from his mind, and even less can he touch you as he desires because he is afraid of breaking the bond you both formed in childhood. Thus, releasing this carnal desire while he is burying his cock in some pussy out there is all he can do or imagine.

Caleb, who never walks around the house without a shirt on because he would not want to make you uncomfortable, and It is not necessary for Grandma to correct him for such a lack of manners, since his well-being is what matters most to him. But, on a weekend morning when the ladies of the house were still in bed, Caleb didn’t mind not having to put on anything right after he took a shower. Coincidentally, you had woken up quite early and caught him nearly naked in the kitchen preparing your favorite meal, with the poor boy displaying a surprised expression when you harshly told him to cover the visible marks left by feminine nails on his back. He never imagined that you had cultivated a feeling like jealousy before beginning to act roughly with him for the rest of the week.

Caleb, who splashes water on you while you are washing the dishes, and it is hard to explain at what moment the scenario turned into a war. The scene repeats when you are enjoying the summer by the pool, and the atmosphere shifts when Caleb ceases to laugh and gazes at you with a different intention in his eyes. You observe the dark-haired boy approaching, unaware that he is gripping the edge of the pool to contain the desire to kiss you.

Caleb, who maintains a very healthy routine at home and school, where you can always find him doing push-ups on the floor or running on the grass of the football field. You are seated in the bleachers with the girls when he notices your presence from miles away, and the way he flashes the purest smile while waving in your direction leaves you feeling confusingly irritated at the moment you see your friends fanning themselves and sighing loudly in unison like bitches in heat. You will blame him for making you feel this way or create reasons for it, using your anger to write unflattering things about him in your facade account book. This silly guy is completely oblivious to these details, you are ignoring him so that he follows you down the hallway, questioning what might have happened. Heaven, he is playing your game and blaming himself too, until you relent upon noticing his face marked by puppy-dog eyes.

Caleb, who is such a respectful boy, walking down the hallway and noticing that you had forgotten to close the bathroom door while you are showering. He is simply closing it slowly, intending to prevent you from being startled or thinking that he is a pervert. Not that he is not.

Caleb, who begins his training as a pilot at Skyhaven, makes a promise to take you to the clouds as soon as he returned home during his military leave. It was a summer afternoon when he wrapped his pinky finger around yours, and the casual conversation about the planes he mastered made you sigh with shining eyes. After all, who could be better than him to make you fly in the sky? Besides his incredible piloting skills and placing your safety first, this man has the power to manipulate gravity. If you were ever flying over Linkon City and were about to fall to the ground, he would use his abilities to maintain control and balance until landing. This man would never let you fall in life.

Caleb, who is automatically attracted to you and it does not require much effort on your part unlike other women. It seems that he becomes more enchanted when you compliment the delicious flavor of the meals he prepares. It is always a new achievement when you are humming and squinting your eyes with his food in your mouth. It means he is feeding you well, a task of the day completed.

Caleb, who allows you to sleep in his bed, with him, on rainy days with intense thunderstorms. You fall asleep together, your head resting on his chest as he holds you tightly while raindrops patter against the window. If he has an obligation the next morning, you will find breakfast laid out on the sheets along with a note that has a good morning message filled with childish and silly drawings. But if he does not have any other engagements, you will wake up to a kiss on your forehead or a teasing pinch on your cheek. Even when Caleb is away, he will leave the door to his room open just so you can rest there whenever you wish. You would not mention it, but you often spend more time in his room than in your own. His scent is everywhere, and when your nose detects it, only then do you feel comfortable enough to be lulled into sleep.

Caleb, who practices combat moves with you whenever he is home after being away for an extended period. Despite having become a Hunter, your fighting skills still need further refinement. And seriously, he is an excellent teacher, it is no surprise that he received praise during his time as a class monitor in high school. This man is calm and highly experienced, he will teach you each movement correctly, and as a diligent tutor, he will explain countless times, regardless of how many times you stumble and fall onto him until you successfully land a hit. You can feel the tension in his triceps as they constrict around your neck in a rear naked choke. "One wrong move and your enemy could end your life just like that." His breath caresses your neck, and he remains in that position for a few seconds as he analyzes how your body is reacting pressed against his. The grip becomes weaker, your blood circulation stabilizing, and there is an indication in your reaction that your oxygen has been lost, even though he did not apply much pressure to your neck. "Someone here needs to step it up, or else you're not getting any of Caleb's decorated cookies!"

Caleb, who tries not to look when you are doing a squat exercise in front of him, feels his cheeks flush pink every time your knees bend, presenting an indecent view of you. Fortunately, this man is very composed and will act as if nothing has happened, hence, you will see Caleb turning his head to another corner while he coughs awkwardly. He condemns himself for having such thoughts about you, and motivated by this fact, he feels the need to avoid you, using this justification in his mind to hang out with his friends instead. He needs a distraction. Yet there you are, calling him with a sweet and pleading voice, hoping to get help with your homework or to fix the bathroom socket so you can use it. How can he say no?

Caleb, who has no idea how he has made you feel attracted to him, your childhood friend, as you have labeled him. He has at least noticed how you hold your gaze on his violet eyes for a bit longer, the way your chest rises when your breathing becomes frantic, how your voice suddenly trembles, or how your body responds when he is too close. This charming individual is putting you in the palm of his hand; he does not tire of teasing you by pressing you against the refrigerator when he finds you wandering the kitchen late at night, solitary and restless, nibbling on something. Sometimes, it is not even intentional, you know, it is simply the seductive nature that Caleb possesses.

✈✈✈

The smell of gasoline mixed with grease is overwhelming and nearly clogs your nose as soon as you set foot in the large garage at home, the reason for the odor justified upon finding Caleb sitting in one of the old armchairs, deeply focused on fixing what appeared to be a car part. The radio is active on the Linkon City FM station, the device accompanying several tools scattered on the table. This place has been transformed into the man's personal space, as more airplane and car-related items are found on the shelves. Grandma and you now refer to it as Caleb's garage.

"Aren't you going to join us at the table for lunch?" Your voice is demanding as you lean half of your body against the doorframe, arms crossed while questioning the man, who does not look at you. His car is parked on the other side of the area, and you notice that the hood is open.

"Just give me a few more minutes and I'll finish up here." He finally responds to you, still immersed in the work that his hands are performing. The old white tank top that clings to his torso bears dark stains that reveal the product used, and your eyes complete their inspection of the mess displayed on Caleb's pants and across the skin of his arms.

"Busy playing with your toys, huh?" Feeling curious, you approach the Lamborghini to see what is demanding so much of the man's attention. A smile adorns his lips, and you hear a low laugh resonating in the Caleb's throat. He leans forward, rifling through the box on the floor filled with equipment.

"Aaand... clean girls can’t come in here." Caleb studies you from head to toe for a moment, the tease playing on his lips with a smile, which broadens when he sees you roll your eyes.

"Before I leave, I'm telling you not to touch me with that dirty hand, Caleb." Your teasing retorts against him. "Go take a shower before sitting at the table, 'kay?"

"C'omon. My hand isn't even dirty, bossy brat." The tip of his boot hits the floor, driven by the beat of the music that starts playing from the device. He is moving the toolbox aside after grabbing what he wanted. "I'm gonna do a test and jump on your bed to stain your pretty white sheets."

"Pfft! You." One of your fingers is pointing towards his serene smile, which conceals all the little mischiefs. You watch him twirl a heavy object between his fingers, disregarding how you have placed your hands on your hips while gazing deeply at him.

"Stay away from the sharp tools, I'm telling you too for the twentieth time this week." He makes it very clear to you, despite not giving a firm look to affirm his words. Caleb do not want to witness the scene of you slipping in the puddle of gasoline that had formed on the floor and hitting your head against one of the saws and axes attached to the wall.

And, oh, you are doing everything except listening to him. That is why he feels you are about to do something reckless as your hand approaches the sharp edge of the object. Before the tip of your finger fully touched it, an unnatural force exerted itself upon your palm, pushing it away. You shot a piercing glance at the man seated, intending for it to penetrate him like the blade you were willing to touch.

"You're so stubborn." Caleb is staring at you, remarkably calm, the fringe of his hair falling over his eyes like a waterfall. His lips are curved in frustration as he holds an open hand in the air. His Evol is still controlling you, the vibration of that power surrounding your skin due to gravity.

"Why are you like this?! I can totally resonate with that!"

"Your powers aren't strong enough for that yet, pip-squeak." You can hear the sound of his sigh, and he is prepared to dismiss any complaints you may have. "I'm just protecting you from your own innocence. It's for your own good."

"I don't need your protection." The conviction carries your voice like a powerful weapon. And you are aiming it at him, more than ever as that manipulative pressure finally releases from your hand. Caleb was gentle in using just a little strength, with no intention of hurting you.

"You don't need it?" The way Caleb has spoken so sarcastically yet with a certain conviction has left you immobilzed in place, and he was no longer using his power over you. There is a feeling of rage consuming you as you clench your fists and grind your teeth at finding him so perplexed by your behavior.

"Yeah, I'm done." Your breath quickens as you take rapid, unexpected steps toward the man. He watches your movements intently until you push his shoulders, and his back is hitting the upholstery. Strands of hair on Caleb's forehead are ruffled by the impact, and his face bears a tightly clenched jaw as he watches, frozen, while you ascend onto the chair and rest your knees on either side of his thighs.

You need not check to know that your clothing has been ruined by a bit of grease. However, the thought quickly disappears when you are approached by Caleb's fixed gaze, the overhead perspective providing a perfect angle to see the top of his chest escaping from his tank top. The shiny necklace you gave him glistens in contrast to the light, and your attempt to divert your gaze toward it proves futile.

"I don't need you treating me like a kid. Not anyone." Your mouth commands your attitude, and the dark-haired man follows each of its movements. You appear too serious, which influences his features as he raises his chin in a sign of dominance. "You idiot."

"Watch you mouth." He is reprimanding you, his tone of voice shifting to a deeper harmony. His occupied hand releases the metal piece into the air, and it makes a violent noise when it hits the ground. Suddenly, you notice his eyes darken as he closely scrutinizes your reaction, and now his fingers are pressing against your wrists. You cannot just sit on him like that, in that position, like it's no big deal. "Don't you know how to treat your elders right anymore, brat?"

"Stop!" You spit, attempting not to show your vulnerable side whenever you are around him. "Is that all I mean to you, yeah? Just a helpless brat. "For a moment, your heart aches with guilt for behaving insensitively while you find so much love in his warm gaze directed at you. This is further compounded by a small streak of black grease on his cheek, which makes him even more endearing.

"Hey silly girl, what are you talking about?" A laugh escapes his lips, and you are unsure if it was meant to sound innocent or somewhat foolish coming from him. However, as a habit, this man tries to lighten the mood of the situation, even when it leaves you feeling awkward. He wonders why on earth you have been so rude to him lately. He understands this whole independence thing you are going through, but he is beginning to lose the patience that has remained intact for years. After all, he has always done everything for you, indulging you with good things and ensuring your protection, yet you repay him in this manner.

"You don’t know?!" The walls tremble as you laugh ironically, the closeness of your faces does not intimidate him. "I hate... how you still see me as your little girl, and not as a woman." You hiss when you realize that you spoke those words too loudly, and you are failing to remove his hands from your skin, which are beginning to burn your very being.

"What?!" He cannot help but shake his head, incredulous at your words. Your breathless breaths are intertwined in the space, which suddenly becomes suffocating.

You look so beautiful sitting on his lap, that he thinks he could get used to the view. Caleb is clenching his fist tightly against the seat, trying to prevent himself from touching the accessible and more sinful areas of your body on top of him.

"Do you want me to show you how I can see you as a woman?"

There is a silence enveloping you and him, but the beat of the music becomes increasingly captivating in the background. You are still recovering from the weight of the double entendre posed to you. A tension saturates the air in more palpable forms, Caleb's gaze appearing indecisive between your enticing lips and the way your beautiful tits move as your breathing grows irregular. The manner in which his violet eyes encompass your entire body is so alluring, and you find yourself questioning why you had not noticed this much earlier.

"Yes." The whisper slips from your lips almost like a secret, yet you show no fear of proving the consequences of your bold action. You are venturing into uncharted territory, tampering with danger. The boy growls sensually in response, a primal sound that reveals the how much he desires you as a woman.

He believes he can no longer endure hiding all these feelings any longer, and this man swears by his soul that if it were not for his self-control, he would throw you beneath him into that old armchair and position you to make love to him. He would not release your wrists while possessing you as his own. Caleb imagines how he would start to move his hips in a slow and tender way, just as a princess like you deserves, but then he would take you with such brutality, and you would accept him, his size, so perfectly inside you. The noise of the slaps on your ass and the sounds of wet sex would be louder than the music playing in the room. And he would keep repeatedly going in and out even if Grandma upstairs was disturbed by the depraved noises coming from your mouth. This man would make you scream in that garage until the sun sets, depending on your cardio endurance. It is okay, he has been letting you scream all the time with him lately, so it is only fair to leave you voiceless.

"Please." Your pleas are persistent, the throbbing pain in the center of your legs making your hips roll almost automatically and slowly on his groin. And it was possible to watch Caleb flying to the sky and seeing stars while he releases your wrists to grip your waist, commanding you to stop those movements. Because his big cock is hard right under you, Jesus. He would go crazy in this place and would take you to sin with him, a single slip could change everything. What would you think of him after this fateful decision? Your sweet purity going down the drain like this...

Caleb is thinking about how you are still not ready, watching you gazing innocently at him, unaware of the many desires and darker thoughts hidden within those purple orbs. You would not be able to handle all the things he wishes to do with you. Therefore, all he does at this moment is close his eyes tightly and take a deep breath in unison.

"No." His raspy tone conveys much about his arduous battle against these desires thus far. Your eyes instinctively close when his lips draw near, you emit a soft moan as you feel them brush against yours. The man is aware that once he begins to kiss you, he would be unable to stop. It is a torment to realize that you are unprepared to be wholly his, in body and soul. He requires you to have conviction in your actions before engaging in any recklessness, as both of you must be ready for that.

Then the place becomes cold as he crawls out of the seat, silently distancing himself from you while wearing a sad countenance. His eyes convey loneliness and melancholy, even as he closes the door behind him. You notice that your skin has been marked by the grease and his hands, it may take some time for you to forget the feeling of them on your body.

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lostinlovingrevery · 14 hours ago

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Van's Valentines - Heartbreaker

70s DOFP! Logan X F! Reader

A/N: My first Valentines-themed fic! It came out more angsty than planned... All my Valentines fics are gonna be themed around these cute lil Valentine cards that I found through Pinterest!

Plot: He has moved in and out of your life for the last two years, you love him, but you're not sure if you can let him in again...

Warnings: Angst, but a happy ending! Logans a menace, reader is described as a waitress, with some backstory

Word Count: 2168

��Hey pretty girl.”

You rolled your eyes at the sound of his voice. Trouble.

Logan Howlett. The menace of your life. The sole reason you have not been able to move on with yourself, to find someone else that you could fall madly in love with. He was the devil incarnate. A son of a bitch who’s made you cry more than you care to admit.

You met him a little over two years ago. He walked into your small family restaurant. A little restaurant your grandfather started when he was about your age. You were just a waitress when Logan showed up. Handsome man who sauntered into the building with arrogance and snug jeans. He (unfortunately) charmed you off your feet.

The next month you were in bliss. Until he decided to leave.

He told you it wasn’t you. It was him. That he wasn’t a homebody, that he needed to go out there. See the world. Sticking around just wasn’t him. You didn’t have a choice but to accept that and move on. You may have shed a few tears, missing the warmth of him in your bed, the sound of his voice when he came in to visit you at work, the way he made you feel like the only girl in the world that mattered. Nevertheless, you moved on. It was only a month you were together anyway, right? You had college and work to focus on. There’s other fish in the sea.

Then he came back.

Then he would leave again.

And he would come back again.

Every single time you accepted him into your arms like a fool, he would kiss you and you’d melt under his warm and timber voice, calling you baby, and sweetheart. Then you’d watch him leave again, tears falling down you cheeks as you inevitably began to wonder, why won’t he stay?

Even so, you never let him see the tears. You didn’t want him to know the power he held over you. Even if you both knew that you should’ve stopped opening your arms to him by the third time he showed up. It effectively ruined your love life. You couldn’t date any man without comparing the poor schmuck to Logan in more ways than one. Your heart felt wrong when you finally kissed the jock from your old high school you had a huge crush on during your high school years. You turned down the cute and very sweet new guy with pretty blue eyes who moved in town purely because you knew Logan was going to show up again- and you were right.

Your grandfather told you once that your soul knew when it met it’s other half. He would tell you that there was strings that tied two people together and no matter how far you strayed from each other- you’ll meet again. You wondered often if that was the case with Logan...Now you're not too sure.

Now it’s been over two years since Logan came in and out of your life. The restaurant you worked in was now yours after the loss of your dear grandfather. The man who’s raised you and made you the person you were today. You dropped out of college when he died, taking over his legacy to the small town you were born in. You took pride in the restaurant, and everyone knew your name and respected you. It didn’t mean that you sometimes didn’t daydream about seeing the world, like Logan does.

It was Valentines day, and you were finishing putting up the pretty heart decorations, stringing along the ceiling and counters. Amongst many other little decorations that you had placed on various counter tops. The local radio station playing various cheesy love songs over the speaker. Despite having your heart broken by him more times than you care to remember. You were still a big romantic, and Valentines was your favorite holiday. Even if you believed you would be spending it alone.

You didn’t turn around immediately to the sound of his voice. Your mind filled with irritation.

Why did he have to show up today of all days? At this point you believed he must get off on causing you heartbreak.

You brushed your hands together, adjusted your apron, letting out a hard sigh and turned around, curses prepared on your tongue as you were about to finally tell him to get out of your life for good. Only it died back on your tongue as you saw him.

“Logan?” You blinked in surprise.

He was standing there, looking nicer than you’ve ever seen him. He always looked good, not one to make a fashion statement yet somehow sported the best looks you could see on a man. A clean button up shirt, tucked into smooth dark blue jeans- of course his classic belt with the almost comedically large designed buckle; It was the shape of a heart. His usual worn brown leather jacket that he would drape over you when he’d walk you back home, or when you sat on the back of his pickup and the sun would set, leaving a chill in the air. His hair was slicked back, his usual scruffy beard and mutton chops trimmed and cleaned up. He was sporting sunglasses that he took off, tucking into his shirt, as you took him in- as well as the gifts he was holding.

He was holding a huge bouquet of red roses in one arm. The other was a big heart shaped box that you presumed held chocolates.

He smiled- not his usual cocky smirk, it was something soft and genuine. Like the smile you seen your grandfather give your grandmother. He stepped forward.

“Happy Valentines day baby.” He says, handing you the bouquet, which was so big you needed both arms to cradle it carefully. The aroma of the roses wafted to your nose, and you closed your eyes, taking a big sniff. “I thought you’d like em.”

“I…” You opened your mouth and shut them, looking back up at him with wide eyes, still slightly shocked. You looked into his eyes, the eyes that always made your knees weak.

“Had to get my girl something special for her favorite holiday, hm?” He smiled.

You looked down at the roses,your heart fluttering at the sound of him calling you his girl. For a moment, you forgot about your irritation, your constant heartbreak. The fact that you thought about him all the time, wondering if he was okay. You have filled yourself with jealousy, jealousy of his lifestyle, jealousy of the girls who probably captured his attention somewhere else. Your heart sank. What are you doing? You’re letting him do it again!

“Thank you.” You say, your tone firm. “I can’t take these though.”

He blinked in surprise, his smile dropping. “They’re for you.” He states, looking down at them.

You sighed, moving to set them down on the counter, careful so that the roses don’t get crushed. “We can’t keep doing this Logan.”

“Doing what?”

Your brows creased angrily, a small scoff escaping you. “What? Are you serious? This!” Your voice pitched higher, and he blinked in surprise at your sudden outburst. “You show up, acting like you actually care about me and then leave!” Your hand flew in the air, motioning to him. He shook his head at your comment. You never showed him any anger when he came back, always happy, open arms, and a sweet kiss. A lovesick expression on your face as he’d tell you new stories of his adventures, completely forgetting of how he made you felt when he left.

“I do care about you.” His voice was low, as his eyes looked down at you in an expression that looked confused. “How could you think I don’t?”

You blinked in disbelief. How could he care about you? He shows up into your life, he treats you like you’re so important, that he could even….but he leaves. He always leaves. He never looks back. It didn’t matter if you begged him to stay a few more days, for one more kiss. You couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to move on with your life.

Shaking your head. “You should go Logan. Find some other girl to break the heart of.” You say, bitterness in your tone. There was a shakiness in your voice you attempted to hide. “The flowers are beautiful but I can’t…” You looked away from him, crossing your arms around you. You felt sick to your stomach. You didn’t want him to go.

He stepped closer. “You’re telling me to go?”

You nodded, not looking at him. A beat passed, and a hand came up, cupping your chin and making you look up at him. Your eyes were wet with unshed tears that you attempted to blink away- refusing to let him see the emotion on your face.

The way he looked down at you almost made you burst into tears right then. A soft smile came across his face.

“I’m sorry baby.” He says softly. His hand cupped your cheek, bringing his other hand to cup your face completely. “I’m sorry I hurt you. It’s my fault. I just couldn’t deal with how you made me feel.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I’m a huge asshole. I know.” He says softly. “I ain’t got no right. You don’t deserve it.” He continues. “I left that first time cause I knew that I…” He trailed off, looking at you with pressed lips. Like he was afraid to say what he wanted to say.

“What?” You ask, your heart starting to beat faster. “Logan….”

“I kept coming back because I couldn’t get you out of my head. It was selfish I know.” His thumb rubbed softly across your cheek. Your hands, shakily reached up to rest on his hips. “Every time I left I couldn’t stop thinking about some asshole taking you. Someone who didn’t know how to make you laugh, or make you feel good like I know how.” He leaned forward, his forehead pressed to yours. “I missed you every single goddamn time. Thought about you every night. It drives me crazy. You drive me crazy.”

You let out a small scoff, a small shake of your head. “Look who’s talking..” You mutter. He grinned.

“I want you.” He says. “It took me some time to accept that. It terrifies me because there’s still some things you don’t know about me. I know it’s shitty. Don’t make me go away. No more running. You and me. We can make it work.”

You blinked in surprise. “R-really? Logan I-”

“Be my Valentine?” He grinned. A small snort escaped you at the cheesiness of him.

“Seriously?” You asked. You were still in disbelief. The way he just changed from your outburst. Was he serious? Or was he playing you like a fiddle again?

“Whatever you want. I could take you away from here, go on those adventures you always wanted to go on. I’ll take you New York, to Vegas, hell- I’ll even take you to my hometown in Canada.” He takes a breath. “If you want, after…We’ll come back here. Settle down. Anything you want. I’ll do it.”

The determination of his face took you aback. Logan was always passionate yes, but he was casual about his passion, he’d pushed away whenever you brought up your relationship, what you meant to each other. Then later at night, in the heat of passion, he’d whisper sweet things in your ear- things he felt about you. You were never sure if it was true or he just said it, simply lost in the moment. You never knew what he was thinking or feeling. He wouldn’t tell you.

“I’ll be here for you. Just let me.”

You thought back to the times he was here. They were some of your happiest memories. He did always know how to make you laugh. He knew what made you feel good. He knew what to say when you were stressed. He knew your deepest secrets.

He was there when you lost your grandfather, somehow showing up that day after you found him. He stayed with you throughout the process. At the time, you thought he’d leave almost immediately. You were grieving, were in no mood for flings or flirting but he held your hand the entire way. It was actually the longest he ever stayed. Nearly 3 months. He held you when you cried. Supported you when you quit college. Even lent a hand at the restaurant. You couldn’t even be mad when he told you he had to leave. You were happy to just have someone who was there for you.

Your grandfather always liked him.

“Okay.” You smiled, leaning into him. You couldn’t believe yourself. Moments ago you were ready to cuss him out, tell him to get out of your life. Within minutes he made you fold. “We’ll make it work.”

He really was the devil.

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fic #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #vans daydreams #DOFP Logan #vans valentines

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animentality · 20 hours ago

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I know x reader fans have always existed, and I don't generally mind them.

however I feel like the way they've overtaken fandom analysis/ shipping culture is an indication of the general decline of fandom communities.

they are normies, guys. I'm sorry.

it's not a slur, it's just a fact.

normies infiltrated fandom spaces because of covid.

they come in and just want to thirst after a particular character... and that's like. fine. of course it's fine it's always happened.

but they don't seem to actually care about the character being in character. nor does it really require any analysis of that character's motivations or story, or their relationship with others.

I know not everything HAS to relate to canon. like duh, we are here to make our own canon.

but come the fuck on. I go into a tag and it has a character tagged being some dommy daddy when that character is nothing like that in canon... and there's this line between making a character act a certain way bc that's your fetish, and completely ignoring who that character is entirely to the point where you could just replace their name with anyone else in any other show, and it wouldn't make a difference?

like that's... normie shit. it's people who do not think deeply or passionately about that media, it's just them having this surface level grasp of the physical attractiveness of the character.

and again. I'm not saying these people are stupid or whatever, just that the overabundance of this watered down ass content is an indicator of how much fandom has changed.

fans are not the socially awkward introverted queer voyeurs anymore, who enjoy fantasies and daydreaming about being someone else because of this disconnect with the self, or this fear of others that leads you to seek human connection in fiction.

they're the people who do just fine with other people ... and I'm not gatekeeping fandom from people who aren't socially awkward or anything.

but they come here, and they do shit like say you can't like this ship bc it's morally wrong .. you're not allowed to thirst after an 18 year old that makes you a pedophile... I'm 15 and I'm allowed to lust for Gojo but you a 25 year old woman, aren't allowed to write itafushi fanfiction.

go back to taxes and your job!!!

like that drives me fucking insane. these people want to insist they're not normies but they then go around insisting that being over 20 means you need to Work and Be a Normal Adult... bitch.

adults make fandoms. not you fucking children. you don't know how to build communities, you barely know how to make friends.

attacking people who like the same thing you do? is that what you think community building is?

oh this poor generation. anyway.

they come here and are disgusted by weird fetishes and obsessions. and by people sharing sexual headcanons or ideas about sexuality that make them uncomfortable because they've never ever been counter culture, they've never felt the need to go against the status quo.

they're cis straight girls/women mostly, whose mothers basically fuel the ya spicy romance booktok industry.

they're just younger and think it's trendier to be "in a fandom" than a fucking book club.

they're modern day bodice ripper fans... which again

would be so fucking fine, if they weren't doing the youth version of karening the fuck out.

and flooding the fandom with both hyper criticism of how you conduct your business AND an aggressive market for just imagining yourself with a character.

like fandom was originally just hyper passionate freaks.

they discussed movies and TV shows like life and death. they were fucking nuts but in the way where they needed to seek one another out, to share in this joyous sensation of being a freak obsessed with something beyond the point of reason.

now?

now it's like ... oh.

Sally from Bio thinks your love of Gaara is super creepy when you're 19. like what, are you a pedophile? why are you imagining him getting married to Naruto? are you a fucking pedophile who gets off to teens making out? they need to check your hard drive!!

like ok Sally.

ok.

I just think x reader is such a strong indicator of what kind of fan you are.

and if a fandom is mostly x reader... then it can't be that popular. it can't be a proper community.

how can it be?

it's as watered down and generic and bland as a marvel movie. it's stripped down of anything unique. it is pruned of controversy and humanity.

you are literally stripping yourself down into a non character.

you're not truly projecting yourself into a character, because the you that you read about is nothing. a placeholder. you are a passive observing robot who exists only in the form of a faceless and personality less entity.

and I don't get it.

what's the point then?

isn't fiction about realizing something about yourself or others

if your only manner of engaging is stripping yourself of personality... is it engagement at all?

or is it just more mindless consumption?

just watch law and order, man.

watch the good doctor or some shit on lifetime.

there's shows with passionate fanbases who theory craft and endlessly obsess with relationships and world building, and then there's shows with x reader only content and you know exactly why now.

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fossore · 23 hours ago

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Interview with Rick Celebrini, ft. some of his thoughts on the Sharks team culture and the Celebrini and Smith friendship, how often he brought Macklin around the Warriors as a kid, and part of what he says to him on the phone before every game, among other things.

Experience sports talk radio! Or save yourself listening to a couple of guys saying Daddy Rick far too many times and read the transcript below. Slightly trimmed and ads removed, original here.

Greg Silver: What's going on everybody! We're focusing on one family and one family only. No it's not the Papa family, it's not the Silver family, in the last 25 minutes of the show it's the Celebrini family. Macklin is going to be joining us coming up in about 15 minutes, but first, it is Warriors Director of Sports Medicine and Performance Dr. Rick Celebrini hanging on the guest line. What's happening Rick?

Rick Celebrini (RC): Hey guys, how's it going?

Silver: It's going great! Great to have you on, Greg Silver, Greg Papa, and I guess I just want to start with a Warriors related question because everybody's going to be wondering about the health of Steph Curry and I know that he's been navigating this knee tendonitis throughout the season. So just if you could tell everyone kind of how he's navigating that, if it's continuing to improve over time, if doing that back-to-back the other night was a lot of wear and tear on him, what's kind of the status of the superstar of Golden State?

RC: Man, you guys are starting with a tough one, you know I can't ans- I can't divulge that kind of information. But I will tell you Steph's in a great place, just the professional that he is and how committed he is to every aspect of his professional and personal life. He's a treat to work with and he's in a good place I think physically and mentally.

Greg Papa: And he's in good hands with you. Now we did not invite Dr. Rick on, we invited Daddy Rick on 'cause your son is coming on. And you were on the Dad's trip, we saw ya, Greg went and watched him play against Sid the Kid, what a thrill that was to score the game winning goal. The game last night in Seattle didn't go great but he did score a goal in the third period (transcriber's note: he did not score, he assisted on Toffoli's goal. KNBR is not quite beating the doesn't care about hockey allegations). Rick just how is it, being able to watch your son play at this level, how many games do you get to watch him in person?

RC: Well, like I tell everyone I'm adjusting to now becoming Macklin's dad, I'm not Rick Celebrini anymore, I'm known as Macklin's dad (chuckles as he speaks) so I'm adjusting to that. It's surreal to be honest with you, it's incredible to see him make this transition, to see him have the kind of season that he's having right now. And I guess, more than anything, as a father, to see him kind of do it with the joy and just the good nature and the fun that he's having doing it? It's one thing to sort of see what he's doing, but also you see guys like the Steph Currys and the Steve Kerrs that preach having joy in this environment which is not always easy to do and to see him doing that at 18 years old with all the pressures and expectations that come with that transition is probably the most satisfying from a parent's perspective.

Silver: Alright, so enough of me prying Dr. Rick, I'm going to focus on Daddy Rick as well. So just what would you say your influence has been on Macklin being NHL ready and just kind of knowing so much about preparation, being in the right physical state and all of that. He's only 19 years old which is hard to believe but how have some of your habits translated to him as he's really testing the waters in the NHL for the first time and killing it? (transcriber's note: he's 18)

RC: Yeah, you know guys it's not just this past offseason, it's sort of been something that I'm really blessed and fortunate to have. Four kids that have their own sort of unique sport-related goals and they all sort of have a dream to get to the highest level of sport. So having a passion and professionally being in this world, there's nothing more enjoyable or satisfying than to take some of those professional knowledge and learning and apply them to your kids. So the four kids, some of them tell people, some people kick back and maybe watch football or go golfing, I have my greatest joy and relaxation when I'm out working with the kids in the off season (transcriber's note, I'm not sure "some of them tell people" is correct). The four of them quite often work out together. This past season for Macklin has been a little in that you're trying to get him, as much as you can for an 18 year old, physically and mentally ready for the rigors of an 82-game season coming off a college season which, again, it's a challenge but he's as professional as you can get at 18 years old in terms of his approach and his commitment to his craft.

Papa: And he's got great lineage obviously, with you being a former soccer player and your whole family, I know his brother is a great hockey player as well (Translator's note: there are two brothers, both of whom are play hockey). You've been in the Bay Area, we've watched you work with the Warriors for years since you joined them in August of 2018, Dr. Rick. Macklin was just a baby back then, how much did you bring him around the Warrior locker room where he could interact with Steph and Klay and Dray and Andre and even Kevin Durant when he was there?

RC: Yeah, I wouldn't say in all honesty that is was a lot, but I think that the opportunities that he and the others did have, one, were really impactful, just to see how these guys approach their craft and two, it's just the influential age that it happened at. I think it was kind of that perfect timing of just as they're getting very serious in terms of where they want to go with their sport, being exposed to that type of environment.

Silver: Talking to Dr. Rick Celebrini here slash Daddy Rick as Macklin will be joining us in about ten minutes and I know this has been quite an awesome experience for you Rick, so just kind of want to get your sense — I don't know how much you've gotten to observe the season, I know the two seasons, NBA and NHL, have quite a bit of overlap, but what's your sense so far of the dynamic between a lot of the youth on this Sharks team and some of the older vets. How do you think Macklin's integrated himself with a lot of these vets, but also having other young guys like Eklund and Askarov making a name for themselves at the same time?

RC: Yeah, especially just coming off this father's trip I got the opportunity to see it sort of first hand and first of all, they have a great group of just people. Never mind players and athletes but just people that the dads — you can see kind of where their sons have gotten it from. Macklin, I think, has really benefited form coming in as a rookie with Will Smith, they've developed a really close bond and friendship and so I think that's helped immensely. You mentioned some of the other young guys, I think there's a really nice balance of rookies, and the veterans that they do have around there have taken a real interest in helping these guys along. So I think all that has helped. I mean, obviously it hasn't necessarily translated in terms of results for the team, but if you're building for the future I think they're going about it the right way in terms of getting good quality people to support these kids as they're building for the future,

Papa: Yeah, Will Smith and Macklin go back to BC BU I know, and that great rivalry and the Beanpot there in Boston and everything and to hang with his dad I know was great for you in Seattle. The one thing that struck me as interesting is that Macklin is back home. he could live with you and your wife and your family, but the way they do it in the NHL is unlike any other sport where he's actually with Jumbo Joe. And what Will Smith is living with Patty? I don't remember Brandin Podziemski moving in with the Currys when he got here Rick. How is — we'll ask your son, he's coming on in a few minutes, we'll ask him directly, but why doesn't he just live at home with you and your wife and your family rather than trimming Jumbo Joe's beard?

RC: (Laughs) Well, first, from a practical logistics standpoint we're out in Livermore so with traffic, as we all know in the Bay it can be a monster, so he's far more proximal to the rink with Joe. But I think over and above that, just the incredible value you have of him living with the family. With Joe's family, they've all been so welcoming, and to have a former number one overall pick who's had an unbelievable hall of fame career to lean on and to be guided by and to keep perspective and things that I can't necessarily relate to, to Macklin, I think it's just been so incredibly valuable for him. Like you said, hockey is unique in that way, stories of Sidney Crosby with Mario Lemieux, the list goes on in terms of different individuals that have had that type of setup. I think it's an incredibly valuable way to transition into the pro game for especially an 18 year old like Macklin.

Silver: So we are having him on in a moment, and since it's such a short interview Rick, we want to make sure we maximize the minutes we get with him but, is there anything you want us to — is there any message that you have for Macklin that we can play coming back for him.

Papa: Make you bed, brush your teeth, wash behind your ears.

RC: Yeah, that's right (laughing). No, I would say, my message to him is, he actually calls before every game, we've done this for probably the last four or five years and I really cherish that time. One of the things that I consistently remind him before every single game is just to enjoy it and to keep perspective and to find the, even in the grind of the season at this point, is just to play with joy, have fun, it's what he's always loved to do. So that's probably the main message.

Papa: (Transcriber's note: at this point Papa relays that George Kittle's father hand writes him a note before each game and says it's nice the Celebrinis can have a similar moment of connection, which is cut for time/I didn't want to transcribe it) Because you're so well versed in the body and how to get through it, it's a hard challenge, He's just 18 years of age, the NHL schedule is grueling, they've got little time off before they play their next game. What's the advice to him as far as getting through this first NHL season as opposed to a much shorter collegiate season, Rick?

RC: Yeah, it's two-fold. One, get your recovery when you can and try to really maximize that, that's sleep, that's all the different modalities. Fortunately I've got peace of mind in that Mike Potenza, who was my performance director here with the Warriors for the last couple years, I actually stole him from the Sharks and now they stole him back. Selfishly for Macklin I'm thrilled that Mike is back there with the Sharks and looking after the group and specifically Macklin. Again, it's being as professional as you can with taking care of yourself. In this day and age it's unlike back in the old days where guys could have late nights and still kind of get by and play themselves into shape. It's just so demanding, the pace that the league's played at, the physicality, the expectations on and off the ice, it's really something that you have to, again, maximize your recovery when you can.

Silver: Rick, thanks so much for coming on and I hope it's not rude to cut you short for your child but in a true fatherly fashion I would say I think you're gonna be OK with it.

RC: As Macklin's dad, yeah, I'm great with it (laughs).

Papa: Anything you want us to relay to him since we're going to talk to him in a moment? Anything we should tell him?

RC: Tell him to give me a call later.

(Laughter)

Papa: Call daddy. Call daddy, Macklin.

RC: (overlapping slightly with previous) Yeah, or maybe call his mom. Even more important.

Papa: Yeah, call your — forget about dad, call mom, would ya.

(General sign offs)

#I know that there’s a transcript but I liked listening. you can hear how much he loves his kids #rick talking about getting mack as prepared as an 18 year old can get for the season and I'm flashing back to him calling macklin a puppy #every time rick says he's out in livermore so the commute's impractical...#buddy I assume you go to practices/games for the warriors it's not like your commute's better #but also I have an equivalent commute home after games i go to and it's not great and I haven't just played 20+ minutes of NHL hockey #san jose sharks #rick celebrini #macklin celebrini #you're listening to KNBR 680 The Sports Leader 104.5 FM #please let me know if you see/hear any mistakes! did not proofread particularly closely

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malk1ns · 1 day ago

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january 29 @ utah, 3-2 OT win

hi geno. this was inspo for today's.

sid is rounding into form and had several milestones in this game.

Zhenya understands why sometimes new guys mistake him for part of the equipment staff, or one of the trainers.

It’s been decades since your designation stipulated what types of jobs you’re allowed to have, even in the NHL. There are omegas at all levels these days, and the Penguins hire more than most. With Zhenya’s tendency to mooch around the training facilities in athletic gear, it’s never a surprise when a rookie or a new signing tries to hand off their gear to him, or stop him to ask a question about their rehab plan.

Zhenya’s too nice to turn up his nose and sneer, even though handling sweaty hockey gear even for a second makes him want to hurl. They never make that mistake more than one time anyway, not when they see the symbol on his badge or one of the more established guys comes up to poke fun at them for the misunderstanding.

Zhenya doesn’t mind. He knows he dresses a little untraditionally for a contracted omega; the girls are usually decked out in skimpy dresses that wouldn’t be out of place at a nightclub, and the guys tend to either wear formalwear or mesh. Anything to stand out.

He hasn’t felt a need to stand out in a long time. It’s not like anyone who counts is going to forget what he’s got on offer.

The rest of the team omegas usually watch games from whatever room the team has set up for them. Zhenya goes sometimes, to mingle with the omegas with other teams he’s known for years and introduce himself to the newbies, but most games find him down in the lounge, taking advantage of the quiet and craft services to have some snacks and zone out on his phone.

He usually keeps the game on in the background, just to keep track of what the mood in the room is going to be after.

This road trip has been pretty ugly, but Zhenya’s watching raptly when Sid backhands in the overtime winner, and the manic smile on his face as the players all pile on him says it all.

He’s on the clock now, so Zhenya beelines to the trainers to get his knee looked at quickly and make sure the muscle he strained in the pickup game he went to last week is in good shape. He manages to skid into the locker room just before Sully starts in on his postgame pep talk.

The omegas always cluster at the far end of the locker room, out of the way of the cameras if they can help it. Zhenya ends up standing next to Evelyn, who gives him a pointed once-over, rolls her eyes, and turns to face the coaching staff.

Evelyn’s new, and she doesn’t like him. Zhenya doesn’t take it personally. Whenever the Penguins contract on a new omega, they always walk into the job thinking they’re going to shoot to the top of the pecking order, that the big prize on the Penguins will lay eyes on them and be so overwhelmed by their scent that he plucks them from the crowd and makes them his favorite.

Evelyn does smell nice, sweet and slightly fruity, like the jam Zhenya likes to stir into his tea. She’ll be popular. She’ll never be a threat, though.

Eventually she’ll come around. Zhenya’s charming and funny, and he’s been able to win over every omega the Penguins have hired over the last 19 years. She’s taking longer than most, admittedly, but he’ll figure her out before the end of the season.

Sid gets the helmet tonight, which isn’t a surprise. The commentary from the team is explicit enough that Zhenya can see the cameraman wincing.

Finally everyone calms down enough for the players to pick their omegas.

Zhenya’s never known how they decide who gets to pick one for the night. There are the obvious ones, of course, the game-winner or the goalie that kept them in the game or the guy who scored his first NHL goal. Outside of that, though, the team has some arcane internal system for deciding who gets a reward for any given game.

It doesn’t matter. Zhenya isn’t like the rest of the omegas, waiting to see who picks them, if anyone. A night off isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but an omega who goes too long without getting selected is in danger of getting traded, or sent to the AHL affiliate, or cut entirely.

Sid will pick last like always, so Zhenya watches the rest of tonight’s winners make their selections.

Ned and Petey, both of whom are far too faithful to their wives to utilize a team omega, cede their choices to Rusty, who isn’t. His grin is sharklike when he pulls two omegas along with him to his stall, and Zhenya snorts, loudly enough to distract Evelyn from where she’s staring at Sid to glare at him again.

Whatever psychic summoning she was trying doesn’t work. Karl picks her, which doesn’t surprise Zhenya at all—he knows everyone’s type. He swings her into his arms as she giggles up at him, batting her eyelashes. Zhenya smiles blandly at her when she shoots a poisonous glare over Karl’s shoulder, then moves his gaze to Sid.

“Boring,” Zhenya hears Tanger mutter as Sid gives to the staffer who’s in charge of writing down their choices Geno’s name.

“Smart,” Zhenya corrects, tilting his head just enough so that his scent starts to fill the room. “Sid gets best, he knows this—why change?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tanger says with an eye roll, but Zhenya doesn’t miss the way his nostrils flare.

Zhenya’s scent has always defied an easy description. There’s something marine about it, salt and wind and ocean spray, but with a base note that’s just on the verge of being unpleasantly spicy. It’s complicated, and it turns heads wherever he goes. Some people hate it, but some—a surprising amount of athletes—find it absolutely irresistible.

None more than Sidney Crosby, who’s making his way across the room, a huge grin on his face.

“Did you watch?” he demands, stopping scant inches from Zhenya. He’s still in his base layers, and if it were anyone else Zhenya would wrinkle his nose and step back, but he’s been conditioned into finding Sid hot no matter what state he’s in—and it doesn’t hurt that his own scent is especially sharp right now, citrus and sugar and gin making Zhenya’s mouth water.

“Such good goal, Sid,” Zhenya praises, watching as Sid’s chest puffs. “Best backhand, like, goalie doesn’t have chance. Great win for team, too.”

“Yeah,” Sid says, looking around the room with a fond smile. The guys who got omegas are all happy, of course, chatting with their picks at their stalls before staff shows up to hustle everyone into the showers and out to the shuttle, but everyone else smells happy too, relief and excitement saturating the air. “We needed it.”

Zhenya’s not a part of the team, not like the players are, but he takes pride in their successes and mourns their rough streaks too. A happy, chattering locker room settles something in him, especially after how dire they’ve been the last week.

“You get for them,” he says, redirecting Sid’s attention back to him. “Surprise you let them give you helmet, though.”

Sid shrugs sheepishly at that. The helmet isn’t meant for players like him, he’d explained to Zhenya years ago. For big milestones, sure, but it’s meant to recognize a guy who did a lot of little things right, or someone who’s been struggling and got the monkey off their back. Sometimes, though, the players insist, and Sid almost always gives in when his team wants something for him.

“Okay,” Tags says, popping up at Sid’s shoulder and smacking his arm. “C’mon, Sid, you know he’s a sure thing, you don’t need to flirt. We need to get packed up and get to the plane. You’ll get him back when we land.”

Sid looks ready to snap something unkind, so Zhenya reaches forward and squeezes Sid’s shoulder, and Sid relaxes, heading obediently back to his stall to strip off the rest of his gear.

Tags watches him go, shaking his head. “Pain in the ass,” he mutters, but it’s fond, just like everyone on the Penguins is when dealing with Sidney Crosby. “Hey, did I see JP at UPMC the other day? You thinking of extending after all?”

Zhenya hesitates, and Tags doesn’t push, giving Zhenya a kind smile as he rushes off to start breaking down the room.

Zhenya’s agent had been in town, it’s true. He’s been fielding calls about Zhenya’s contract status for months, now that Zhenya’s eligible to extend again starting in July, and he’d wanted to meet with Zhenya face-to-face.

He’d left their meeting frustrated, Zhenya knows. He’s not being a very helpful client right now.

He brushes those thoughts away and makes his way to the dry change room to throw sweatpants on over his compression shorts and grab his bag. He’s really looking forward to going home.

—

Technically, omegas and players aren’t supposed to sit together on the plane. There’s something about it in the code of conduct contracts everyone signs, to keep any funny business with team omegas away from team property, but when Sid snags Zhenya as he’s walking down the aisle towards the back and tugs him into the empty seat next to him, nobody has much of a reaction except for Ty, who shakes his head at Sid but keeps walking.

“Sorry,” Sid says, not sounding very sorry at all. “I just didn’t want you walking past everyone.”

Zhenya stares at him, unimpressed. He’s never had any problems with any of these guys. The last time a player joked about picking Zhenya before Sid was able to, Sid had practically dropped fang in the locker room and the guy had been traded a week later. Nobody who’s sitting on this plane is going to give Zhenya a hard time or look at him twice, not after a game like that and with the way Sid’s smelling. “Okay,” he says, making sure he sounds exactly as skeptical as he feels. “So, what we do?”

Sid’s eyes drop to Zhenya’s mouth, but before Zhenya can say a word he shakes his head and leans down to dig through his bag, pulling out his iPad. “Want to watch something?” he says, offering the tablet to Zhenya. “I haven’t watched any more episodes of Severance after the ones we watched together.”

“Me too, was waiting,” Zhenya says, grabbing the iPad and scrolling until he finds the right app. Sid’s found Zhenya’s headphones, a too-expensive pair Sid bought for him a few years ago, and when they’ve got the audio figured out so they both can listen they settle into their chairs.

Sid’s warm against Zhenya’s side, and he smells fantastic, strong and masculine and like a winner. Zhenya shifts in his seat and tries to focus on the show, but his mouth is watering and he thinks he’s getting wet. If Sid notices, he’s too polite to comment on it.

They have to wait until they’re back at Sid’s house. Sitting together is one thing; Sid gets rules bent for him all the time. Starting something with the team all around them, though, might actually have consequences, and Zhenya’s not willing to risk that.

He misses most of what happens in the show. From how Sid’s scent grows, though, he’s not doing much better. They’ll just have to re-watch these episodes some other time.

—

Sid’s restless by the time they touch down at Pittsburgh International. Zhenya spends the last hour of the flight with his hand covering the back of Sid’s neck trying to pump calming pheromones at him, but it’s pretty much a lost cause; he even snarls at Kris when he walks past their row.

Kris just rolls his eyes at them. Zhenya grimaces apologetically and thinks to himself that probably this is why omegas aren’t supposed to sit with the players that picked them on the plane.

Sid bats Zhenya’s hands away from his own carry-on and shepherds him off the plane, practically tripping in his haste to get them both to his car. Zhenya barely manages to toss his keys to a staffer; they’ll get his own car to Sid’s house for him to use in the morning.

If Sid lets him leave tomorrow. Sometimes he doesn’t. That’s not technically allowed either; an omega’s obligation ends after twelve hours, but nobody can dictate what Zhenya does in his off-hours—or who.

Sid relaxes once he’s got Zhenya tucked safely into his passenger seat. The further he drives them away from the airport, the more his shoulders come down, and once they’re pulling into his garage and the gate is closing behind them he’s practically jovial again.

“It was a pretty good game, eh?” he says, hauling their bags inside and dropping them unceremoniously in the mudroom. Zhenya considers making a fuss—he’s got a lot of his nice clothes in there, after all—but for all that Sid’s finally stopped looking around for an active threat, he’s still practically vibrating with pent-up energy and hormones. Zhenya can bill him for his dry-cleaning.

“Great game,” he affirms, letting Sid tow him to the staircase. Sometimes Sid gets like this, needs his ego petted before he’ll let the game go and take his reward. “You get team working together, like, everyone on same page. I’m know you figure out what to do.”

Sid sends a smirk over his shoulder, and Zhenya shivers a little at the show of teeth, suddenly aware on a very primal level that he’s alone with a dominant alpha male that’s strong enough to take him down and keep him there without much effort.

Sid’s smile goes sharp at the turn Zhenya’s scent takes, and the click when he shuts his bedroom door sounds final.

Zhenya hasn’t made his living off reading alphas his entire adult life for nothing, though. He knows what it is Sid really wants tonight.

Before Sid can turn around from closing them into his room, Zhenya’s got him pinned against the door, wedging his hand around Sid’s chin and turning his head so Zhenya can see his face. Sid looks like he’s going to fight it for a second, but Zhenya grinds against him, rubbing his dick along Sid’s ass, and Sid lets out a long breath, deliberately letting his muscles go lax.

“And I figure out what to do with you,” Zhenya coos, trailing his hand down Sid’s torso until he can grope Sid’s dick through his jeans. He’s rock-hard, huge in Zhenya’s hand, and when Zhenya squeezes Sid growls, bucking his hips forward into Zhenya’s grip. “Yeah, you want it bad, I watch you all night and I think to myself, he’s play so good, superstar, I get to have him tonight.”

“Fuck,” Sid hisses through gritted teeth, letting Zhenya manhandle him back to the bed and shove him onto the mattress face-first.

Once he gets Sid naked, Zhenya spends some time groping his ass. He doesn’t get his hands on Sid this way all that often, so he ignores Sid’s whining to really appreciate it.

The omegas from other teams always giggle over Sid when they’re gossiping with Zhenya. He’s more than happy to share tidbits—nothing too personal, of course, nothing that would get either of them in trouble or result in bad press if it went public, but enough to make them jealous, make sure everyone knows what they’re missing out on. They couldn’t even dream of anything like this, though. Sid’s ass is everything that’s been said about it and more.

Zhenya reaches down to palm himself, taking the edge off a little. Sid figures out what he’s doing and struggles under Zhenya’s hold until he manages to flip onto his back, propping himself up on his elbows to stare.

Zhenya’s got a big dick for an omega. It’s nowhere near even the most poorly-endowed alpha, obviously, but he’s proud of it, knows how to use it. When he fucks around with betas and other omegas in the offseason, he does his best to leave them panting and bow-legged.

Sid’s bow-legged enough on his own already, but he’s got a perverse fascination with Zhenya’s dick and balls. Has since the beginning, really, the first time he felt comfortable enough to hint around this as something he wanted sometimes. It turns Zhenya’s crank the way Sid practically drools over his dick.

“You want?” he asks, cupping his balls and tugging meanly, watching Sid’s mouth drop. “Yeah, you do. Big strong alpha, big important captain, everyone wants to say how good you’re play—what if they knew, huh? What if they saw how much you like getting fucked by omega dick? What you think they’re say?”

“Oh my god,” Sid whimpers, reaching forward. Zhenya slaps his hands down, baring his teeth when Sid moans and his dick twitches, drooling precome all over his stomach. “G, please, I need it bad.”

“I know, baby,” Zhenya croons, leaning off to the side to paw through Sid’s nightstand until he finds the lube. “I give to you, nice and hard like you’re deserve.”

Sid lets Zhenya turn him back over and tuck a pillow under his hips, spreading his legs obediently when Zhenya tells him to.

“Good boy,” Zhenya says, watching Sid’s whole body shudder. “I take care now.”

He opens Sid up agonizingly slow. Sid shivers and pants and sweats under him, squirming back for more as Zhenya gets one finger, then two, then three into him.

Sid’s always so tight when they do this. It’s a good thing he doesn’t like alphas, not even for an occasional dalliance, because Zhenya’s not sure there’s enough lube in the world that would let another alpha get at his ass.

There’s plenty for what Zhenya’s working with, though.

Sid’s practically incoherent by the time Zhenya takes himself in hand and lines up against his hole. “Take it now,” he mutters practically to himself, pushing until he’s inside Sid’s body.

He can feel Sid squeeze around him, an instinctive rejection, before he takes a breath and relaxes. When Zhenya pushes all the way in with one smooth thrust, they both moan.

Zhenya goes slowly at first, but when Sid fumbles one arm back and grabs his thigh, he tucks his head, braces his palms on the mattress, and starts to fuck him in earnest.

Sid always goes so, so quiet when he’s getting fucked. It had alarmed Zhenya the first time; he’d stopped, concerned Sid was in pain, or had changed his mind and didn’t know how to say it.

As if Zhenya could ever do anything to Sid that Sid wasn’t explicitly allowing.

Now, Zhenya focuses on his smell, the way the citrus blooms so heavy it’s overripe, almost rotten, the closer Sid gets to the edge. He runs his hands over Sid’s back to feel his muscles clenching and relaxing, the way his hips hitch into the pillow as he rubs himself off.

When Sid’s scent is strong enough that Zhenya feels like he’s practically drunk off the gin lacing through the orange, Zhenya slips his hand under Sid’s torso and squeezes hard where his knot would pop if he were fucking an omega.

Sid howls. His back bows to an almost painful angle as he comes. His dick kicks in Zhenya’s hand, pumping come out at an incredible rate, and Zhenya whines at the feeling, clenching around nothing as he fucks Sid through it. He knows what it feels like when Sid comes inside him, and the smell of Sid’s come kicks at something in his brain that makes him want to fawn and beg.

He grits his teeth and fucks Sid harder instead, holding him to the mattress with the full weight of his body until he grinds in one last time and comes with a grunt.

As soon as he’s got control of his limbs again, Zhenya pulls out and rolls to the side, making sure to give Sid space. They’ve learned the hard way that sometimes Sid’s body reacts in the aftermath before his brain can, and Zhenya isn't interested in spending 20 minutes trying to talk down an angry, hormone-addled alpha who’s got him pinned to the floor tonight.

Sid comes back to himself quickly tonight, and it’s not long before Zhenya finds himself in Sid’s arms, cheek rubbing against Sid’s pec as Sid plays with the hair at the nape of his neck. Zhenya purrs, going boneless at the answering rumble in Sid’s chest.

He’s practically half-asleep when Sid opens his mouth and jolts him back to wakefulness.

“Has Kyle talked to you about your contract?”

Zhenya freezes.

Some of the guys, like Tags earlier, have been tiptoeing around asking him outright. Trust Sidney Crosby to just rip the bandaid off.

The truth is, Kyle’s been asking him to sign for at least another year for months now. He wants Zhenya there for Sid, he’d explained; nobody else knows Sid as well as Zhenya does, nobody can get to him when he needs sense talked into him. Nobody could step into his shoes.

It’s the truth, which doesn’t make it less flattering. Zhenya’s still hesitating, though.

Sid clears his throat. “I mean. I know you’re probably…well, this is your fourth contract here, and I wouldn’t blame you if-—you’ve probably got offers from all over the place, right? You don’t need to stay in Pittsburgh.”

“Yes,” Zhenya says warily. There’s no such thing as tampering rules when it comes to omegas; teams are allowed to submit contract proposals whenever they want. JP’s got a filing cabinet in his office dedicated to the most outlandish offers Zhenya’s gotten over the years. The compensation packages aren’t as outrageous as they were a decade ago, but they’re still lucrative, and there are plenty to choose from.

He could go somewhere warm if he wanted. He could walk into a new locker room, one that’s closer to winning the Cup, and relive the manic adrenaline rush that is a run for the championship one last time. There are options that would cater to whatever whim he wants to indulge.

But…

“I figured,” Sid mutters, and his scent goes briefly sour. “I know that Pittsburgh isn’t…there are other cities. But I was wondering, maybe…I mean, I’d never ask you to quit, not if you didn’t want to, but if you’re thinking that maybe you don’t…” He blows a big gust of air out of his nose, laughing ruefully. “Sorry. This is coming out all wrong. But, I wanted to ask…” He tightens his arms around Zhenya briefly before loosening entirely, rolling Zhenya away from him until they’re face-to-face. “I was wondering, would you consider contracting with…with me, instead. Like, as my omega. Not mine, oh my god, you’re your own person, obviously. But—”

Zhenya lets him babble, staring at him wide-eyed.

Sid’s hinted at this for years now. Zhenya never really took it seriously—alphas say all kinds of shit when they’re knot-deep in an omega’s pussy and drunk on pheromones. Before Sid put unofficial dibs on Zhenya and he’d still get picked by others, he’d been proposed to probably half a dozen times. But…

Sid had emailed him this past August, just a few days before his own contract extension went public. They talk pretty frequently over the summers, just to catch up and chat, but this message had gone a little more serious than their off-season conversations usually do.

I don’t know how much longer I’m going to play, not really, Sid had written. I don’t want to be one of those guys that everyone looks at and shakes their head, like, why isn’t he retiring, doesn’t he see he doesn’t have it anymore—you know? I never want to go out that way. I do know that I don’t want to do it without you, though. Even if you decide to hang them up after you’re done, I hope you’re still around with me.

Zhenya can recite that email word-for-word. Sid hadn’t said a thing about it when they both got back to Pittsburgh for camp so Zhenya hadn’t brought it up either. He’s spent the intervening months wondering, though, and avoiding his agent’s increasingly irritated missives about giving Kyle an answer.

“Yes.” Zhenya interrupts whatever no doubt embarrassing nonsense Sid is stammering his way through. “Yes, I want. Want to stay with you. Be yours.”

#sidgeno #hockey rpf #my writing #my fic #24-25 series #oh my god why is this so long. what happened. i think i blacked out.

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detectivestucks2 · 1 day ago

Text

Single Dad Toji

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Toji x F!Reader

Summary: Toji sees you at the park with your kid while he was on a job and becomes obsessed with seducing you into weekly quickies in the back of his car

Warnings: NSFW, oral sex, toy usage, unprotected sex, anal play, cum feeding

Word Count: 1.9k

Single Dad Toji who spots you at the public park with your son while he was on a job. Your yoga pants perfectly hugging your hips, your ponytail poking through the back hole of your baseball cap. Your voice, sweet as candy when you call your son’s name. All of it distracting him from his mission.

Single Dad Toji who makes quick work of his assignment so he can circle back to the playground to find you. Only you’re gone. Not to worry, you’ll be back. You strike him as the kind of girl who has a routine, he’ll try again next week.

Single Dad Toji who surprises Megumi with a visit, asking if he wants to go to the park and play? Excited, little six year old Fushiguro grabs his baseball mitt and hops in the car, ready to play catch and spend real time with his dad.

Single Dad Toji who is the picture-perfect father, hoping you’ll be around to see it. He plays catch, tag, even teaches Megumi a little about fighting. Then he spots you out of the corner of his eye. You’re back, this time in a different pair of yoga pants, your hair in a messy bun poking out the back of your cap, and a cropped shirt that his hands are dying to roam under.

Single Dad Toji who clears his throat, “Megumi, you wanna head over to the playground now? Maybe join some of the other kids?” “Okay, Dad!” He watches Megumi’s little legs bolt toward the colorful structure as he shoves his hands in his pockets and strolls in your direction, ready to convince you to join him in his car while the kids are distracted.

Single Dad Toji who sits next to you. You weren’t paying attention at first but when his herculean figure sits down inches away from you, your eyes do a double take. He’s gorgeous. Is it even legal for him to be here? Don’t you have to be tired and ugly with a dad bod to bring your kid to the park? This guy looks like he just came from a weightlifting competition and he could pick you up with his pinky.

Single Dad Toji who deeply murmurs, “Hey.” knowing he won’t have to say much more to win you over. You might be attractive but he can see you staring at him in his peripheral. The battle is won before it even begins. Your mesmerized face eventually manages to whisper ‘Hello” in response. “You come here often.” “Y-yeah, every week. You new to the area?” Knew it, you do keep a strict schedule. This will be fun. “You could say that. I don’t get out much.”

Single Dad Toji who smiles when you ask him, “Which one is yours?” He points out his son who’s his spitting image and pretends to not know which kid is yours. He’s just waiting for your name so he can do a thorough background check on you tonight. He wants to know everything. Who’s your kid’s father, how long you dated, are you married, divorced, where you work, Toji is nothing if not detailed when it comes to researching his prey and even if you don’t have a hit on your head, he's sure as hell hitting you from behind.

Single Dad Toji who feels his chest swell when you ask the very question he’d been waiting for, “So where's Megumi’s mom?” He’s got you now. You’re in his snare and he’s not gonna let you go until he’s done toying with you, which you better believe won't be any time soon.

Single Dad Toji who has you bobbing between his legs in the back seat of his SUV. The car spacious enough for you both, but cramped enough to keep you against him at all times. Your pretty mouth struggled to stretch around him and your throat is having an even harder time. However, that doesn’t stop him from grabbing you by your hair and shoving you down on him. You’re his little slut now, there’s no turning back. His hips buck up into your mouth as you gag and cough. Lewd wet sounds swirl through the silence making him twitch in your mouth. As much as he wants to be inside of you, he’s enjoying his sadistic game. He could do this to you for hours but he doesn’t know how long he has till Megumi notices he’s missing. With that thought, he releases you but wipes the drool from your mouth all over your whore face before pulling you up on the seat so he can piledrive into you.

Single Dad Toji who has you moaning and screaming as he stretches you wide. You’d think after giving birth, this would be easier but you swear the doctor must’ve sewn you up to be like new cause you feel like a virgin as he pummels into you. His hips crash into your backside so hard it not only rocks you, leaving you unsteady, but it makes the whole car shake. Surely someone is gonna tap on the window to let you know how obvious you’re being.

Single Dad Toji who makes you cum twice before he allows himself to release. He wants to get back to Megumi but he wants to see you again. He needs to feel how your pretty pink insides squeeze around him while you make demonic orgasming sounds. You’re sexy as hell and he hasn’t had nearly enough time to explore you yet. He finishes with harsh slaps to your ass, turning it bright red with his strength before he chokes your neck. He can feel how you quiver around him as his seed pumps into your hole, possibly creating a sibling for Megumi.

Single Dad Toji who continues to hold you by the neck, still on his cock, while he puts his number in your phone. He whispers instructions into your ear to send him a photo of your soaked underwear when you get home. He wants to see his cum dripping out of you and making a mess of your underwear. As he’s telling you this he pulls you up and dips two fingers in your cunt to scoop out some of his spend and shove it in your mouth. You hood your eyes and suck on the thick digits obediently, wishing he was inside you again. When he withdraws his fingers he gives you two light slaps on the cheek, “Good slut. Same time next week?”

Single Dad Toji who has you in the backseat of his car every week like clockwork. You're addicted to each other. All your mind thinks about is him and how he plays with you. You want him more than you’ve ever wanted anyone in your entire life. He knows your body and what makes you tick as if you’d been dating for a decade. He’s an expert in knowing precisely what to say to make you feel like his filthy sex slave, ready to serve him and all his desires. This week he has you wearing the remote vibrator. He turned it on the second he got to the park. You were still driving and it took you by surprise. Your son asked what ‘that humming sound’ is. You played it off as a fly that must be buzzing around and opened the door for him. Your son sprints to the jungle gym and plays with his new best friend, Megumi. As you walk towards his father, Toji, he pulls out his phone and increases the intensity of the vibe, the asshole. You stop dead in your tracks, unable to move from the pulsing that had you silently screaming for mercy.

Single Dad Toji who approaches you and grabs you by the arm, pulling you into his SUV. He strips off your pants and spits on your rear. “Wrong hole, Toji.” “No, it’s not. Your other hole is occupied. It’s time to take this one out for a test drive.” He drops another wad of spit on your back door then sinks his finger in and rims you, stretching you as you wait on all fours anticipating what’s to come while writhing from the shockwaves of the vibrator. Toes curling, core clenching, legs shaking, you're already overloaded before he sinks his fat tip into your rear. It’s uncomfortable at first but then as you loosen up, your inner demon surfaces. Only two strokes in and you’re cumming all over his back seat. Toji smirks, realizing this is gonna be fun. He begins to pound into your cute little hole, making you scream and shout filthy things. You chant his name, promising to be his little toy and do whatever he wants. He rocks into your A-spot so hard that you convulse, unable to speak as your eyes roll in your head.

Single Dad Toji who can’t bring himself to stop, even after your body collapses. It’s too good, too tight, too warm. His shaft tingles as it rubs against the vibrator still whirring away in your other cavity. “T-t-toji, p…please. Mercy.” He chuckles at your orison. Like he’s gonna give you a break. Completely disregarding your plea he hammers home, hips snapping so hard you’re dizzy and have gone blind from pleasure. If you weren’t screaming before, you’re definitely screaming now. People probably think you’re being murdered but he can’t stop himself, he keeps pounding away until he breaks. Cum shoots out and paints your interior. He finally stills and notices that your body is in a crumpled ball, lifeless except for the twitch in your leg. A buzzing sound can be heard over his heavy panting when he realizes he never stopped the vibe. “Oh, sorry babe.” When he turns it off he sees your body go limp as if you took your last breath and knows he’s worn you out. You lazily roll over and stare up at him, your eyes constantly finding their way over to his mouth and that sexy scar he has on the corner of his lips.

Single Dad Toji who grabs you at the base of your jaw and pulls you up to his face. His lips collide with yours in a breath-stealing kiss. You’re his perfect woman, his little slut, his secret whore, his obsession. When you get out of his car you’re about to pull away to pretend you’re just friendly parents bumping into each other when he sees how another man is watching your ass. You straighten the brim of your hat and move to walk toward the playground when Toji’s massive hand grabs your waist and pulls you into him. You look up at him shocked, then he drapes his heavy arm across your shoulders while he stares daggers into the man who now pretends to be watching his daughter lovingly. “What’s this?” you ask, surprised that Toji wants to show affection where the boys might see. “You’re mine. Others need to know.”

Single Dad Toji who doesn’t want to be single anymore. He has you blushing like a giddy schoolgirl as you walk over to the bench and sit together. Your shoulder tucked into his armpit and his hand squeezing your bicep, he can’t get over the idea of making things public. You’re his, officially, and it makes him smile to himself as the two of you watch your kids become stepbrothers.

Masterlist

#jjk smut #toji smut #toji headcanons #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk toji #single dad toji

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irisinluv · 2 days ago

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Careful What You Wish For

TW: Depictions of violence, toxic relationship, slight nsfw themes at the start, magical bargaining, and not proof read

You know, when you have a deadbeat boyfriend, you think that surely, the worst thing that can happen has already happened. He forgot our anniversary, asked me for money on my birthday, punched my uncle at a family barbecue, the list goes on. But sacrificing me to a demon is an all time low.

I really should’ve realized something was off when he asked if we could spice it up in the bedroom…. And that he’d do all the work. This, coming from the guy who thinks missionary is too much work. But hindsight is 20/20…. I eagerly agreed. He tied me up with some itchy nylon shit, and while his knots were sloppy and didn’t feel sexy in the least… I still was so unbelievably excited at the initiative. I was completely bound to the bed, he had slipped a blindfold over my eyes…. This was new, exhilarating, and completely out of character for him.

As I listened, holding my breath as the anticipation built, I could hear him muttering to himself, heard the nightstand drawer open, and I shivered as my mind flashed to thoughts of the vibrator I kept in that same drawer. I felt the warmth of his body as he climbed ontop of me, sliding my shirt up ever so slowly. This was the same man who spent all day raging as he played Fortnite against 9 year olds, I really couldn’t believe it, I was soaked already any he hadn’t even touched me properly yet.

I squirmed at the agony of waiting, and then a knife sliced my chest from my sternum down. Burning pain crashed over my body. As I screamed in shock, fear, and pain, struggling uselessly against the ropes, he started chanting. It was some unknown language that commanded more respect than the stuttering pronunciations falling from his inexperienced lips. He fumbled over the words, his cadence was off, and yet; despite his less than stellar performance, a low pitched hum filled the room.

A sound like grating stone followed soon after, my ears straining to locate its source. I screamed the safe word, sobbing as I felt hot blood dripping down my body and pooling on the mattress beneath me.

That’s the first thing the demon saw when he appeared. My bloodied form yanking at the ropes, panicked sobs and pleas that oddly enough included the word “avocado,” and then the one who summoned him. A greasy man who appeared to be wearing a Minecraft t-shirt, now splattered with blood.

“Belial! Lord of the fourth hell! I, Matt, Duke of discord, present to you this soul sacrifice in exchange for my hearts desire!”

The throbbing pain from my chest, coupled with the blood loss made me lightheaded, and so it took me a moment to realize he was talking to someone, offering them my soul.

The demon remained silent, assessing. Matt continued,

“In exchange for this mortal soul, my wish is to never have to lift a finger again, to have all the money I could ever want, I want to be treated like royalty!”

If let out a frustrated scream at that, I’m bleeding out on the bed, the woman who’d been providing for him financially, making all his meals, doing his laundry, giving him below the desk support whenever he wanted it, and this is what I get in exchange? He’s sacrificing my soul, for what? So he can rot online for the rest of his life?

“Matt you lazy fucking asshole let me go!”

The demon watches silently as the I thrash and scream at Matt, and how Matt only rolls his eyes and says,

“I’m sorry about her. This is why I can’t wait to get rid of her, I mean really, I’m suffocating over here!”

I’ll show him suffocating…. But that’s when the demon finally speaks.

“I will accept your bargain. In exchange for this mortal soul, all your wishes shall be granted.”

Matt’s pimpled face breaks out into a grin and he pumps his fist in the air as if he’d just won a match. I sob in terror, still unable to see the figure, but his voice was deep and eerily calm. The demon snaps his fingers, and suddenly I feel the gash on my chest knitting itself back together. I gasp and take a few sniffling breaths as I assess what is going on, confusion wracking my brain. Aren’t I supposed to be damned to eternal torture or something now? Why is my head no longer pounding from blood loss? Why are my wrists no longer raw and throbbing from yanking the ropes? A hand reaches over and lifts the blindfold from my face, and I blink against the light.

The demon is tall and imposing, dark jagged wings and horns clashing with an eerily beautiful face. He strokes my face gently before turning to Matt, who is looking equally confused,

“You end has been fulfilled, allow me to uphold my end of the bargain.”

He snaps his fingers, and Matt screeches as his limbs snap to his side, immobile.

“Your first wish, to never lift a finger again.”

Another snap of his fingers, and gold coins begin raining down around Matt, thunking against his head and causing him to yelp and curse as the heavy disks continued their assult, pooling at his feet and slowly starting to swallow him up.

“All the money you could ever want.”

With one last snap, Matt’s prone form begins to be wrapped in bandages, his panicked screeches muffled at it wrapped around his face. A beautiful sarcophagus materializes, and Matt is lowered inside, the sounds of his terror cutting off as the sarcophagus sealed shut, standing silent and still amidst a pile of gold coins.

“And finally, to be treated like royalty…. Enjoy the pyramid, Matt, Duke of Discord.”

And with that, the sarcophagus and gold all disappeared, leaving me alone with the demon. Unsure of what to expect next, I was silent, terrified. He flicked his wrist and all the blood disappeared from my clothes and skin, the ropes securing me to the bed unraveled. He took my hands in his own and lifted me from the bloodied mattress, and then he smiled.

“Finally…. You’re mine.”

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nikethestatue · 3 days ago

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I blame TikTok/BookTok for a lot of things, but one for the biggest disservices that it did to the general reading public was it popularized the idea of 'trope writing'. it's one of the worst things to ever happen in writing, and it's the low hanging fruit for those who have bastardized the whole romance genre. Grumpy and sunshine, age gap, single dad, enemies to lovers...The list is long and...boring.

Trope writing gives a blueprint to unimaginative stories and their proliferation in the romantasy and romance genre is what's making it a joke now. There are so many 'Court of' and any combo of the words of blood, roses', and stars and it's...well, it's this:

The problem with SJM's fandom and the shipwar as a whole is very kind of simple and sad at the same time.

A HUGE number of Gwynriels came from TikTok and learned about SJM on there, and they've been lied to this entire time. Because the thing is, SJM is NOT a trope writer. Sure, there are a few tropes in her books, but they don't drive her narrative. SJM is a STORYTELLER. That's what she is and those who found her before/outside of TikTok were drawn to the story and the characters, not ships.

We didn't read ACOTAR, and then ACOMAF for 'ships'. We read it for the story--we didn't know who'll end up with who and that wasn't the main reason why we read. We loved the actual world of Feyre and Rhys, of Tamlin of Prythian, of the IC and Hybern. It was interesting to read.

TikTok ushered in the 'trope revolution' where talentless and mediocre authors are churning out boring, unoriginal books that fit into these tropes.

SJM doesn't do that. And while I know it's way too late now, I wish Gwynriels understood that early on. I mean, they would've had to read the books actually, and not just look at IG and TikTok videos, but it would've saved them a lot of time and energy if they did. Because what they want is 'grumpy and sunshine' trope with Azriel and Gwyn. 'Friends to lovers'. 'Teacher and student'. That's why they've struggles SO HARD for 4 years to come up with an actual story for their 'Gwynriel book'. They vacillated between 'it's Azriel's book!' and 'it's about healing!' or 'they'll redeem Illyria', and then, when they couldn't really concoct much of anything, they decide to make Gwyn Starborn and they've been obsessing about her paternity.

The 'problem' with SJM is that she has a story FIRST, and then certain tropes fall into that story, but she doesn't start off with a trope and then build a story from there. Which is what GAs want and think she'll do. For Eluciens, the downfall is their belief that 'SJM is a fated mates writer'. They dug themselves into a hole, because 'fated mates' is a trope and it's pretty obvious that this is NOT where SJM is going with Elucien. They'd rather ignore every mention of the Cauldron being wrong, and falsely assume that none of it matters because well, but 'fated mates'!

What they all keep ignoring and dismissing is that Elain has a story of her own. Yes, there is a grumpy/sunshine vibe with Elriel, but that's not the driver of the narrative. The driver is that she is a Seer, and that she is Made, and that the Cauldron WAS WRONG, and that she doesn't like her mate but likes another guy altogether, and that Azriel is a mystery and a Shadowsinger, and we don't know what any of this means, and somehow, he is carrying a Made dagger and he gave it to Elain, and he is in love with her knowing that he shouldn't be, and he said 'i am getting her back' and he got her back....THAT'S the story that SJM is writing. And it's not your basic and boring 'grumpy and sunshine' trope.

I think when Elriels have doubts or see something on TikTok, they should remember this. SJM predates TikTok by over a decade and no matter how people try to spin it, she is NOT a TikTok writer. She is actually a talented and best-selling romantasy writer who wrote this:

“Fireheart. Fireheart, why do you cry?"

"Because I am lost. And I do not know the way." "You have been very brave. You have been very brave, for so very long. But you must be brave a little while longer, my Fireheart. You must be brave a little while longer, and remember..." Her mother placed a phantom hand over Aelins heart. "It is the strength of this that matters. No matter where you are, no matter how far, this will lead you home. It is the strength of this that matters, Aelin. The strength of this. You are my daughter. You were born of two mighty bloodlines. That strength flows through you. Lives in you. You do not yield. You do not yield.”

And she made us cry.

And then she wrote this:

“There you are. I've been looking for you.

His first words to me— not a lie at all, not a threat to keep those faeries away.

And she made us fall in love.

“Even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust between the stars, I will always love you.”

#SJM books #anti tiktok #anti booktok #acotar #SJM writing #elriel #pro elriel

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obvithe-bestsoph · 3 days ago

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my best friend.

masterlist requests word count: 3.7k (if this flops, i'll cry)

a/n: it's 3am right now, and i have to be up at 7:30, but here, have this. no seriously, if it flops, i will cry. yes, this is in fact me asking you to like it 😭. genre: fluff, childhood best friends to lovers. warnings: they kiss? literally nothing graphic lol. safe for everyone.

Wednesday, 18th of August, 2010. 3 years old.

Your mama has been a stay-at-home mother your whole life, but recently she has decided that she wants to return to work since you’re a little older, meaning that you need somewhere to go during the day, and that place was Infantil 1-3 años, and today is your first day. You had cried quite a lot when your mama had left you this morning, not really ever having been away from her much, but when you eventually realised that she wasn’t coming back any time soon, you plonked yourself down on a small chair in a quiet corner of the colourful classroom.

For a while, you sat there watching. The kids here are quite noisy and a bit dirty, but the toys look fun, and so does the playground outside, there’s a big patch of grass where some kids are playing with a football, and some others playing tag. Maybe this place isn’t so bad.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a small hand waving across your line of vision, trying to get your attention. Your eyes follow the hand, up their arm, over their shoulder, and to their face. It was a little boy, he had a big smile and short brown hair.

“Hola!” he says cheerfully. “On són els teus amics (where are your friends)?”

“Sóc nou, no en tinc (i’m new, i don’t have any).” you reply.

He then sticks his hand out to you, waiting for you to hold it.

“I’m Pau Cubarsí Paredes, and we’re best friends now.” he states simply as you link your small hands together. You smile a little, and nod. “Vale (okay). My name is Y/N.”

“Alright, Y/N, let’s go out and play.” he grins, hands still holding each other’s hands as you two run outside smiling. He brings you to where the big patch of grass is, he starts to join in, when someone calls out to him,

“Qui és, Pau (who is that, pau)?”

Pau smiles proudly and calls back to the boy, “This is my best friend, Y/N.”

Thursday, 10th of September, 2011. 4 years old.

After you and Pau whining and whining at your mothers’, tonight, you’re having a sleepover. You’re going to share a bed with Pau, which you weren’t too happy with to start off, but after Pau tells you that it’ll be alright, because then you can keep each other safe from the monsters, and it doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

When you finally arrived at Pau’s house, he was already outside in the back garden, playing with the football he got for his birthday in January. You both really like football, and actually, that’s kind of the whole reason for this sleepover in the first place. Tonight, FC Barcelona is playing Real Sociedad, and you’re gonna watch it together on TV.

Pau’s mother takes your bag of things that your mother had packed for the night, and while the two women chat in the kitchen, you run outside to see Pau. “Pau!”

“Y/N!” he runs up and gives you a quick hug. “Do you wanna play?” “Of course, I want to play. Don’t be silly.” you giggle, and steal the ball off of him, shooting it into the invisible goal at the end of the garden, and running to give him a high five in celebration.

It only feels like 10 minutes to you guys, but hours later, Pau’s mama calls you back inside for dinner and the game starts. You run in, wash your hands as required, take your plates and sit on the floor in front of the TV, just in time to see the teams walking out of the tunnel.

Sadly, you guys aren’t allowed to watch the whole game as it runs too late for little kids like you, despite both of your protests that you’re ‘big kids’ now. However, you get sent up to bed anyway, with the promise of his parents telling you the final score in the morning.

It feels a bit odd going to bed without your mama’s cuddles and your papa’s special song, but you don’t say anything and just let Gloria tuck you in next to Pau and kiss your forehead good night.

“Bona nit els meus petits amors, ens veiem al matí (good night my little loves, see you in the morning).” she says, and then quietly leaves the room and shuts the door behind her, leaving you and Pau alone.

You both lay in silence for a while, which only leaves you time to think about how much you miss your parents. “Pau?” “Yeah?” your bottom lip starts to wobble.

“I miss my mama and papa.” he panics, seeing you’re about to cry.

“Hey, don’t cry amiga, it’ll be okay. You have me. Do you want a cuddle with Monkey? He’s like… magic.” Pau tries to help, offering you his special monkey stuffie, his equivalent of those security blankets kids have.

You shake your head and the first hot, fat tear slides down your cheek. Well now this is really out of Pau’s ballpark. He quickly scoots closer to you and wraps his small arms around your body. “Està bé (it’s okay).” he pulls you a bit closer and you snuggle into him. His cuddles always make you feel better, and vice versa.

“I love you, Y/N. You’re my best friend, and I’ll give you loads and loads of hugs until you stop crying.”

Monday, 21st of September, 2013.

Today is your first day of big school. In Spain, it’s called Primero (year 2/1st grade). Or that’s what your mama said anyway. You were so glad because Pau’s going too. It would be scary by yourself. The new school is very different from Infantil, it’s big and there are lots of older kids there too. As you walk through the gates, carrying backpacks that are practically bigger than the size of your small bodies, you start to walk towards where the lady in front of you is telling you to go, not letting go of each other’s hands a single time.

The new classroom is bigger, just like everything else here, but the teacher lady up the front seems nice enough. But unlike at Infantil, you don’t just put your bag on the hook and then go off and play until you get called in to eat, you put your bag in a cubby hole and then you have to go and sit at a table and wait for the teacher to start talking. It’s weird. You both want to go outside, but she says no. Hmph.

The first thing you have to do is sit in a circle on the floor for “Talking Time,” where you have to say your name, how old you are, and something about yourself. Both being fairly shy around people that aren’t each other, you and Pau hold hands the whole time, even when one of you is speaking. Pau goes first and nervously starts talking, “Uh, hola, my name is Pau, I’m six, and my fact is that I really like football.”

Then it’s your turn, you panic, but a squeeze of Pau’s hand brings you back down. “M-my name is Y/N, I’m six too, and my fact is that I always watch and play football with Pau.”

You nod your head proudly, and Pau smiles at you, the little girl starts to talk next to you, but neither of you is paying attention to her. You put Pau’s hand in your lap and draw invisible little pictures on his palm with your finger.

Then you have to sit back at the tables and are given a piece of paper and a pencil. On the piece of paper is your name, which apparently today, you’re learning how to write.

You get a bit frustrated when Pau does better at it than you, but keep practising anyway.

“This is too hard.” you huff, trying again. Pau pats your hand and reassures you.

“It’s not ‘too’ hard, you just gotta do it again.” you huff and continue on.

After that, you have to start learning how to count. The class sits on the floor in a circle again, and in a chorus, repeats after the teacher. “Un, dos, tres, quatre, cinc (one, two, three, four, five)…” Pau decides he likes numbers more than letters, but you decide letters are better than numbers. Everyone has their strengths, right?

After what feels like forever of counting to five, then six, then seven and so on, finally, your lunch break comes and you’re allowed outside again. You want to go and play football, but the kids here are a lot bigger and scarier, so you stay sitting close to each other in a corner of the playground. An older kid, from a few years above, in Tercero (year 4/3rd grade), calls out to you, teasingly. “Oi, is that little girl your girlfriendddddd?!” he grins.

Pau and you frown, and hold hands a little tighter, “Girlfriend? No. This is my best friend, Y/N.”

Thursday, 24th of March, 2016. 9 years old.

“Come onnnnnn, Y/N. Por favor?” Pau whines, complaining as he just lost yet another 1v1 against you.

“Nope. A loser’s a loser. No rematches.”

“What?! But I wasn’t ready!” he cries.

“Then why’d you say ‘Yeah, vale, go.’ when I asked if you were ready?”

“Uhhh…”

“Exactly. Now, I’m gonna go inside because it’s hot and your mama said she bought ice cream. Pau perks up at the mention of ice cream and is racing ahead of you to get there first.

“Hey! Wait for me!” you call, dashing after him.

When you reach the kitchen, Pau is already sitting at one of the stools in front of the island, his mama scooping balls of ice cream into two bowls. She then goes into the pantry to get sprinkles but realises there’s only enough for one person. Pau is quick to call dibs but is then almost immediately scolded by his mother. “Pau, remember how we talked about being a gentleman? Let Y/N have them.” He mumbles and grumbles, but you shake your head.

“It’s okay Gloria, we can share. Right, Pau?” Pau’s face lights up again and he nods quickly. The woman laughs and puts a tiny amount of sprinkles over both bowls and pushes them across the counter so they’re in front of you. You both dig in quickly and a moments later, Pau speaks up again, mouth full,

“Thank you for sharing.” “That��s okay. I thought you might need something to cheer you up after I bet you so many times.” you tease, and he rolls his eyes at you bringing it up again.

“I told you it was because I wasn’t ready!”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes, still smiling though, “Uh-huh, sure.”

Irene, Pau’s older sister walks in, being used to you two by now, she doesn’t even bat an eye at your bickering and teasing. Irene’s 4 years older than us, 13, she’s cool, but you aren’t particularly close to her as you two are quite different from each other. But she will ‘babysit’ you and Pau on occasion, so she’s chill.

She scolds Pau for rocking on his chair, fixes his hair, gets a snack, huffs, and walks out again, as would any good older sister.

After finishing your ice cream, it was down to the living room to mope around and complain about being hot while playing FIFA. Barcelona summers really are just too hot sometimes. Pau beats you in the first few games, but you then flip yourself so you’re not lying upside down on the couch, and you start playing better. You guys spend a few hours doing that before Pau chucks his controller down and sighs.

“I’m bored of this, and it’s too hot to go outside and play actual football. And mama says no football in the house. What do you wanna do?”

“Die? It’s too hot.” he snorts and tugs on your ponytail, “You’re so dramatic.”

“Am not. It’s like boiling. But seriously, I have no idea what we should do.” Pau slowly turns his head to look at you, the look in his eyes silently asking, ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’ to which you nod, and you both dash up the stairs, to Irene’s room, as she is now the unfortunate target of your boredom.

Later that afternoon, Pau came to watch your football game against the female Real Betis youth team, he cheered loudly at every goal you scored, so loudly, that the parents around him started looking at him a bit funny, but one of the fathers there just laughed and told him his sister was very talented, but Pau was quick to correct him.

“No, senyor. That’s my best friend, Y/N.” Monday, 8th of October, 2018. 11 years old.

It was a shock, but not surprising when two La Masia contracts were offered to you and Pau after a Barcelona scout had come to watch both of your games. Playing for the club you’ve always dreamed of debuting for? Hell yes. You couldn’t sign it fast enough. Well… you couldn't force your parents to sign it fast enough. And before you knew it, you were waving goodbye to your parents and siblings, and you were boarding the bus to Barcelona.

The bus ride was about 2 and a half hours from Bescanó, but Pau fell asleep about 45 minutes in, his head lulling around to your shoulder. You don’t mind, and just watch him for a minute… noticing how cute he looked when he slept, how his hair looked nicer than usual… no. Stop. It’s Pau. Your best friend. You quickly look away again and force said thoughts out of your mind, just focusing on the excitement of finally arriving at your new home.

After what felt like far too long, Pau wakes up again, but when he realises that you don’t know he’s awake, he just pretends, closing his eyes again and snuggling closer, acting like he’s still sound asleep. You glance down at him and smile softly, a little confused, but then go back to watching out the window.

Pau didn’t even know why he did it himself, for some reason, he just wanted to be closer to you than usual. He stays like that for the entirety of what’s left of the bus ride, thinking about how nice you smell and how warm your skin is… no. Stop. It’s Y/N. His best friend.

Thursday, 8th of November, 2018. 11 years old.

Now settled into your shared dorm at La Masia, you and Pau are having the time of your lives. Here, you can live, breathe and talk football pretty much whenever you want, your guy’s dream. Tonight, you’re both tired, having been at away games most of the day, and now you’ve eaten, you’re pretty smashed.

(for reference, this is an actual la masia dorm, so imagine it here:)

Pau was awake on his phone, and you were reading, making the most of time before lights out, as always, when Pau spoke up from between the cabinet dividing your two beds.

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” This wasn’t unusual for you two, as you both found comfort in sleeping in the same bed, ever since that first sleepover when you were four.

“Vale. Just don’t flail around too much and snore.” you conceded, scooting closer to the wall so Pau could get in. He slips in beside you and you cuddle up to him, but continue reading. Eventually, you fall asleep, the book still in your hands. Pau gently slips it out of your hands, putting it on the shelf above you two and pulling you more into his arms, burying his face in your hair and closing his eyes.

“She’s just my best friend. Stop.”

Friday, 27th of August, 2021. 14 years old.

“Pau, I swear to God if I find another one of your socks just loose in this room-” you threaten, throwing the sock at him as he lays on his bed, scrolling his phone. He rolls his eyes and laughs, chucking it back at you.

“Fine, whatever, mama.”

“Hey, don’t hate on me for trying to not live in the filth of a teenage boy.” you chuckle, sitting down at the desk and starting on your homework.

After about 30 minutes of comfortable silence, your phone pings, you check it passingly, but you do a double take, your eyes going wide as saucers and you jump out of your seat. Pau is immediately alert, also jumping up. “WHAT?!”

“I GOT INVITED TO TRAIN WITH THE FEMENI FIRST TEAM!” you practically squeal, throwing your arms around him in a hug, still holding your phone in one hand.

“No way, amiga! That’s amazing!” Pau laughs, picking you up and spinning you around. You often forget how strong he actually is now, despite the, possibly unhealthy, amount of times you’ve admired his new biceps…

A few days later, you come back in the dorm door from your first first-team training, because of the different timings, Pau isn’t back yet, still in the recreation hall doing homework. You sigh and put your bag down, going into the small ensuite of the dorm and having a quick shower, as you’re standing at the sink brushing your teeth, you hear the digital door lock pincode being put in, and Pau’s call out,

“Hola!” “Hola!” you call back, voice a little muffled by the mouthful of toothpaste.

You come out a few minutes later, allowing Pau to use the bathroom to shower after his own day of training. He comes out to grab his pyjamas with nothing but a towel around his waist, his hair still wet, that stupid, stupid, boyish smile on his face. You quickly look away.

“So how was training with the big girls, superestrella?” he asks, sincere, but slightly teasing. At the question, you’re immediately distracted from the sight in front of you and brought back to the memories of training earlier in the day. “It was amazing. I met Alexia Putellas. Alexia Putellas! Hell, I played with her, not just met her. They all seem so nice, Pau. I hardly wanted to leave.”

He chuckles at your excitement but gives you a “Good.” and ruffles your hair, heading back towards the ensuite to hang up his towel.

Pau flops down on his bed and holds out his arms for you. Being freshly showered and no longer smelling like a locker room, you accept and lay down next to him.

“Who would’ve thought, my best friend, playing with the Barca Femeni first team? I’m so proud of you, Y/N. Really.” he murmurs into your hair. “Te quiero.”

April 2023. 16 years old.

Today, Pau had had his first training with the first team, and you were waiting nervously in the dorm for him to get back and tell you how it was, and sure enough when he arrived back, he did.

In fact, it’s quite hard to shut him up. But you don’t mind. His voice is actually rather soothing. He got so animated talking about one of the drills he did where he got to work with someone, that he tripped over the leg of the chair of the desk and fell forwards, on top of you, putting you from your sitting position, to pinned underneath him.

Your breath hitches, his face inches from yours. You stare at each other's lips for a moment before he mutters a quick apology and stands up again. You go bright red and murmur back a “You’re all good.” before rolling over and burying your face in your pillow after he’s walked away again. The dorm is dead quiet, the silence is tense and heated. “She’s my best friend…” Pau thinks, having no idea what was going on on the other side of the separator between the beds.“He’s my best friend…” you think.

“I don’t care.”

“I want him.”

Neither of you said anything aloud, but it’s safe to say that ‘Shameless’ by Camilla Cabello was certainly blasting in your AirPods tonight.

Saturday, 18th of January 2024. About to turn 17.

Tonight, Pau is making his senior team debut. Barca is playing against Unionistas de Salamanca in the Copa del Rey, and Pau has never felt so excited, yet so much like he could throw up at any moment. His parents, me, and Irene were all in the stands, and he couldn’t wait.

In the 46th minute, Pau gets subbed on for Andreas Christensen, jogging out into the pitch. You couldn’t help but chuckle when he got a yellow in the 70th minute, not at all surprised.

Later that night, after the adrenaline had worn off a bit, you and Pau walked back into the dorm quietly, the rest of La Masia being asleep by now. Once the door is shut and locked again, you collapse into your desk chair, still grinning at him. You sit for a minute before standing up and moving to be in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck in a hug. “Estic molt orgullós de tu (i’m so proud of you).” you murmur, looking into those beautiful eyes of his. He’s over 6 feet tall now, so you definitely have to look up, and he definitely has to look down.

“Gràcies (thank you).” he murmurs back, also looking into your eyes, it’s silent for a moment before his neck starts craning towards you, and yours up, until finally, your lips meet in the middle.

The kiss lasts a few seconds, just lips, no tongue or teeth, but the amount that it communicates is wild. Your hand creeps up from his neck to his hair, his hand moving to your waist, pulling you closer against him. When you finally pull away, you’re both a little breathless, but you grin at each other.

Friday, 29th of November, 2024. 17 years old.

Tonight is Barca’s 125th-anniversary gala at the Gran Teatre del Liceu, you’re here with the Femeni team, and Pau’s here with the men’s team, but after the main, “formal” part of the event, everyone is taken off to an open hall with a bar and a few tables of food, music playing, coloured lights illuminating the room.

You gravitate to Pau, who’s standing talking to Héctor Fort, Lamine Yamal and Pablo Gavi. He looks down to see you standing there, automatically wrapping an arm around your waist.

“So you’re the famous ‘roommate’ then, huh?” Lamine smiles teasingly at you. You chuckle, Pau laughs, and Héctor smiles expectantly.

Proudly, Pau’s grin only grows. “Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

#pau cubarsi #pau cubarsi fic #obvithebestsoph!paucubarsi #pau cubarsi x reader #fc barcelona #fanfiction #football #football fic #culer #teenage romance #PC2

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