#eye-catching Emilia
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home is where the heart is ★ n.r
— 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ;; 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐘𝐒 & 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒
in which your married life with natasha romanoff is depicted through this comedy-drama series. with your dream job, three kids, and a plethora of friends, each day is blissful but all the more chaotic and unpredictable. (and ultimately, very horny.)
pairing ★ sub!wife!natasha x beefy!butch!reader
chapter summary ★ natasha wakes you up with a pleasant surprise, your gremlin kids are the life and death of you, tony stark is annoying, marital sexting is pretty tough, and you're homesick for your wife's pussy.
warnings ★ (MINORS DNI) - explicit content, some pretty heavy kinks: blowjobs, marital sexting, breeding kink, daddy kink, probably more.
word count ★ 3.1k (feeding yall)
SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST
You slept like the dead.
Or at least you did, on most mornings, oblivious to the waking world in your sweet slumber.
Today was different, though. There was a distinct feeling of pleasantness swimming in your subconscious, one you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It urged you awake, a certain type of wet heat that insistently tugged and pulled.
It wasn’t until a jolt of arousal shot through you like a nine-millimetre shotgun that you jerked awake with a start.
“Shit!” you gasped, yanking off the blanket from your lower half, to reveal your ethereal wife perpetrating what could only be described as a wet dream.
Natasha’s head was obediently lowered in the midst of sucking your erect shaft, her viridescent gaze trained unto you with a twinkle of mischief. Wandering hands were sheathed under the front of your sweatshirt, painted nails mapping out the expanse of your tensed abdomen.
“Way to wake me up, baby,” you say breathlessly, a hand flying to the back of Natasha’s head in hopes of speeding up your ever-approaching high. You buck your hips once, effectively propelling your hips further forward, guiding your shaft into your wife’s mouth.
Natasha hums mindlessly, palming at your torso like it was second nature. Her mouth moves languidly, relaxed and slow, tongue trailing over the hefty length of your cock in a teasing manner.
Like the devil incarnate, Natasha’s hand glides a broad stroke from your abs to the base of your cock, and starts working her hand in firm strokes. “Fuck,” you groan, a hand twisting into soft locks of your wife’s hair.
The joint stimulation on the head and base of your cock have you barrelling towards a preordained high at a frighteningly fast pace, and the absolutely criminal way Natasha’s head bobs up and down is no help at all.
“Fuck, baby, m’so close,” you gasp, throwing your head back and letting your eyes slide shut. Your big hand guides Natasha’s head with a certain type of tacit power, unwritten but distinct. Natasha feels herself get wet, and in turn eagerly plunges her mouth down with a renewed vigour.
When Natasha lets out a filthy moan from the back of her throat, stifled by the sheer size of your cock in her mouth, pleasure overwhelms your every sense.
You groan, hips snapping up for the entirety of your cock to be buried in Natasha’s warm and velvet throat. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”
“Mama! Mommy!”
The undeniable sound of little feet scampering across the wooden floorboard and down the stairs, unceremoniously hauls you out of your heaven-like ascension.
Natasha pulls her lips off your cock with a satisfying ‘pop’ sound. “Time to get up, honey,” she says with the arch of her eyebrow, smoothly turning over in practised motion and leaving you hung and sprung.
“Baby,” you whine, pitifully throwing your head back. Your words fall on deaf ears and you grumble and pull up your sweatpants, just in time for the door to swing open and release the incoming wave of chaos.
“MAMA!!” Emilia shrieks, leaping onto the bed with fearsome aggression, her younger twin brother in tow.
Your five-year olds didn’t let you catch any breaks, Emilio roaring into your ear while dragging his toy pterodactyl across your face. “Rawr! Rawr! Wake up, ma!”
You leap up in a haze of bedsheets and screaming kids, all your previous indiscretions quickly faded at the sight of your bundles of joy.
Emilia squeals as you easily hoist her up with one arm, the little girl getting thrown into the air. Emilio receives much of the same treatment, getting dangled in the air by one leg.
“Mommy! Save us!” The boy cries out with a delighted grin and a hearty attempt at hitting your side. You swing them around with fake growls that incite laughter and squeals, steering clear of any sharp corners or wayward objects.
Natasha is more preoccupied with hugging your sleepy ten-year old, and cooing softly into her ear.
Marina is the oldest of your three, quiet and reserved, with brilliance sparkling behind her soft eyes. “Hi, mama,” she greets you with a small smile, and your heart melts a little.
“Hi, darling angel,” you reply with a big grin of your own. “Where’s my morning kiss?”
At the prospect of the feared morning kiss, Emilio yells and wreaks absolute havoc, the toy truck forgotten in favour of escaping your clutches.
“No mama! No kiss!” Emilia protests, the Russian determination behind her set eyes a splitting image of her mother’s. Emilio is long gone, visibly hidden under your bedside table.
You hoist Marina up onto your hip, smiling at the sweet kiss she pecks on your cheek. “It’s mommy’s turn now,” you say easily, sliding up to Natasha with a mischievous grin.
“Ew!” Your little girl giggles, hiding behind her hands as you share a chaste kiss with your wife, one that is far too short for your liking. Either way, the morning kiss routine was a success.
The attention in the crowded room is drawn by a simple clap of Natasha’s hands. She stands arms akimbo, rocking her bed hair, sleep still half-written in her eyes — but the whole look is so endearing that you can’t help but fall in love all over again.
“Okay, kids. Time to get ready for school! Who wants breakfast?”
The cheer that arises from your children is nothing short of pure jubilation. Emilio starts a chant of ‘Frosted Flakes! Frosted Flakes!’ that has them marching in line out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen.
Natasha laughs, following their trail, but you drag her back expectantly.
With one arm hanging off the top of the doorframe and the other wrapped around her waist, you pull Natasha into that long sought-after kiss.
“Mhm,” you hum contentedly, inhaling her sweet scent. “I love you.”
Natasha slowly slides her hands up your arms, savouring the kiss. She presses her palms to your cheeks, adoration dancing in her eyes.
“I love you too.”
*****
The Frosted Flakes do not end up on the breakfast table, after all, because Natasha reasons that the kids had eaten it for three breakfasts in a row and their teeth would rot and fall off.
Toast and scrambled eggs, courtesy of your little handiwork in the kitchen, is the eventual outcome. Food is food to a bunch of hungry gremlins, either way, and the breakfast gets scarfed down in no time at all.
“You’re gonna go soon?” Natasha asks you in the kitchen, giggling at your teddy-bear patterned apron. You make a non-committal hum against your wife’s chest, wanting to stay in her arms for an eternity.
“Mama, we have to go to school,” Marina calls from the front porch, the door clicking open. “I need help with my shoe!” Emilio cries out, hopping into the kitchen with a singular shoe. “I got my shoes done on my own!” Emilia chimes in proudly, tugging on her backpack straps.
Natasha laughs, stroking your hair affectionately. “No rest for the wicked,” she says. “Be a responsible parent and send Marina to school, then go to work. The twins’ school bus will be here anytime.”
You exhale with a smile, pulling your wife in for a kiss that is a tad too long. Tugging off the pink apron, you’re glad you already changed into your work attire — a collared white shirt rolled up to your elbows, a grey-patterned tie, and matching slacks.
Natasha looks you up and down approvingly, then her eyes glimmer with an incited flame as she straightens your tie. You definitely don’t miss the way her hands glide smoothly across your chest to straighten out the wrinkles, and you resist the fluttering sensation that blooms under her touch.
“What a handsome young woman,” Natasha comments, tip-toeing to peck your cheek. You smile widely, preening under your wife’s attention. “Only for you,” you reply happily. “I’ll be off, then.”
“Mama, let’s go,” Marina probes, head poking into the kitchen. Her eyes soften at the sight of Natasha, proceeding to wave cutely. “Bye, mommy.”
Like little ducks, your three children follow you out of the house, with their miniature backpacks and shoes. Natasha watches adoringly from the porch, blowing kisses to Emilia when she yells one last “Bye, mommy!”.
Your Audi SQ7 peels out the driveway, engine revving. Marina is looking out the window, humming ‘American Pie’ with a little smile. As your home fades away in the rearview mirror, you think that this life was all you’d ever need.
***
“Fury, tell Tony that not sponsoring the coffee machines in my building is frankly, quite rude behaviour,” you comment, sitting next to the aloof man who’s snacking on a packet of dried fruit. Steve steals bits of the snack when Tony’s not looking, much to Fury’s chagrin.
“I don’t give a fuck,” Tony replies hotly, snatching back the piece of fruit in Steve’s hand. “You literally leaked the photo of me in a maid outfit, for the whole world to see. You know how many sleazy men have slid into my DMs since then? Pepper hasn’t let that go!”
“What, are you mad that the public now knows that Pepper’s the one that does the dicking down?” you retort. “And Steve was one of those ‘sleazy men’!”
The accused blonde looks away quickly, suddenly very preoccupied with the tiling of the floor. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve mumbles.
“That’s enough,” Fury admonishes with an unamused look. “The three of you need to get your shit together. Regardless of whether or not Stark is a bottom, I can’t have the CEOs of my powerhouse companies making a bad name. You know how that reflects on me? Stark Industries, SHIELD, L/N-Corp Worldwide Media: The Desolate Downfall of Nick Fury.”
“Is this because I modelled for the gay sex toy shop company? Because that’s just homophobic,” Steve reasons, folding his arms. “And Bucky liked the advert a lot!”
Tony scoffs, making paper aeroplanes with the papers on Fury’s desk. “We literally bring in millions upon millions for you each year. I’m sure that forgives the one time I was high during Y/N’s media conference. The Minister didn’t even notice! He’s like 82, anyways. Close to your age, Fury.”
“And I’m not sorry for calling the Netflix director a bitch on live TV,” you add in. “They’ve got no reason for cancelling all the sapphic shows left and right! My wife and I were invested in Gentleman Jack, okay?”
Fury sighs, the scene before him a spectacle he was no stranger to by now.
You, Tony and Steve were the face of the up-and-coming generation of brilliant minds and creative thinking. He supposed your overwhelming success and proved greatness softened the blow of your discrepancies in maintaining an unblemished professional image.
“Moving on,” Fury continues. “I want to talk about Project Eagle. As you should know from last year’s report……”
Just then, your phone vibrates in your pocket, with a notification from Natasha’s contact.
You, indeed, were hard.
Upon reading Natasha’s last message, you shut your phone off so quickly that Steve turns and raises an eyebrow at you. You clear your throat and shift in your seat, evidently affected.
The heat that surges through your body pays no help in your focus on Fury’s briefing. You can feel the flush creeping on from the back of your neck, spreading down your body and rushing towards the area between your legs.
Natasha, why have you forsaken me? You think helplessly, the noises in the office fading to a low buzz. When your phone vibrates again, your finger clicks on the message before your brain can catch up to you.
The image that Natasha sends you has you choking on absolutely nothing, coughing up air like a woman possessed.
Lacy red lingerie displaying thick thighs and a soft tummy should not be this breathtaking, but Natasha pulls it off anyway.
Filthy images flit into your mind uncontrollably, searing images like a broken record player. Your dick has a mind of its own, pressing hot and tight against the seam of your pants.
“L/N,” Fury announces, voice booming and hauling you out of your trance. “What seems to be the issue?”
In the background, Steve and Tony giggle like schoolgirls, knowing all too well what had occurred. You clear your throat again, shoving your phone into your pocket, hopelessly trying to erase the blessed image of your wife from your memory, just for a moment longer.
“No issues here,” you say with a forced smile, fighting demons with your rock-hard erection you’re desperately trying to cover with a report file. “I’m all dandy, sir.”
“Right,” Fury says disbelievingly, his good eye flickering downwards for a fraction of a second. Embarrassment eats you up whole.
“Let’s hope your attention span is just as ‘dandy’.”
***
“Natty,” you pant, with your wife pinned under you, hot and tight inside of her.
“I can’t believe you did that,” you grunt, punctuating each word with a firm thrust of your hips. “Made me so fucking hard at work.”
Following your incident in Fury’s office, you had exhausted every fibre of your willpower not to lock yourself in a bathroom stall and jerk off like a nymphomaniac.
After a gruelling day of work and coming back to a house of sleeping children, you had wasted no time in claiming your stake.
“I’ve been blue balled for twelve hours,” you groan into Natasha’s neck, mouthing at the flushed skin with fervour. “Spare me some sympathy, darling.”
“Oh, my poor baby,” your wife teases, tracing a feather-light hand over your tensed back muscles and clutching at the back of your neck. “You’re so eager, aren’t you?”
“Mhm,” you growl, scraping your sharp teeth over her collarbone, leaving violet imprints at a respectable-enough level. You roll your hips into Natasha’s, drawing relentless waves of pleasure and a rocking motion that has her throwing her head back.
Natasha’s erratic breathing and badly-disguised moans are music to your ears, a sweet symphony you’d been missing all day. You groan as her velvet walls clench tight around you, hot and wet and all-encompassing.
“You feel amazing,” you pant, the clefted tip of your shaft bumping against her cervix with how deep you nest inside of her.
A high-pitched whine sounds from the back of Natasha’s throat, as her legs spasm in the air. “Wanna fuck you senseless, please,” you groan.
“Do it,” she challenges breathily. You lean forward, manhandling her deliciously thick thighs, pressing your wife’s knees to her head.
The arousal that builds in your lower stomach is pure white heat, fueled by the breathless cries of your wife under you.
“Fuck,” you cry out, reaching new spots you haven’t before. You surge forth, an unstoppable train, drilling your shaft into Natasha’s dripping cunt like it was your only reason for living. Because maybe it was, as you transcend earthly boundaries with her, only her.
Subconsciously, your hands fly to Natasha’s hefty tits, grabbing the shaking mounds. “Y’so pretty, babygirl,” you say, half-drunkenly, high of the white-hot pleasure that Natasha draws out of you.
She’s untouchable heaven, silky moans and raspy cries, a soft tummy with rolls that you greedily grasp in your hands.
“Daddy,” Natasha cries, crescent nails scratching down your arms, her suspended legs shaking in the air. The airy lilt of your title makes you leak. “Ugh, fuck,” you grunt, pounding her into the bedframe, sweaty and slick.
“Let me come inside, please?” you practically beg, wide eyes transfixed at the area your shaft meets her cunt. Natasha whines breathlessly, a hand moving to clasp at the sheets. “Yeah, I-I’m on the pill.”
That’s all the confirmation you need before pinning Natasha down with spread hands. You shift on the bed as you mount her, skin-to-skin with your shaft fully-lodged inside of your wife.
Natasha gives you this dizzy look, glazed-over eyes portraying complete submission.
Then you start moving again, and the world explodes in your hands.
“Oh, fuckkk,” you groan, shoving your fingers into Natasha’s mouth to stop her pleasured screams from waking up the whole house.
The speed at which you drive your hips into Natasha’s is downright sinful, smearing slick all over her rounded ass, dripping onto the bed.
You’re transfixed, as your wife’s big mounds bounce in time with your thrusts, making you drool with want. An animalistic growl leaves your throat as you push yourself in, even deeper than before, making Natasha arch above the bed with a muffled cry.
Just like that, with you buried inside Natasha, do you fall apart by the seams, an unwinding intricate tarp.
Your load gets buried deep inside Natasha’s womb, and you continue with shallow thrusts. “Mhmn,” Natasha moans, following soon after, spurts of slick coating your cock in waves of overarching pleasure.
“Babydoll,” you groan mindlessly, palming at her sides. You come so heavily that it flows out of Natasha, a dribble of thick white fluid, and your wife fingers it back in so desperately that you could get hard all over again.
You collapse unceremoniously onto the bed next to Natasha. “I want more kids,” you state. You grope your wife’s tummy like it would conjure new life, an expectant look on your face.
“Three is enough,” Natasha says breathlessly, skin shining with a sheen of fresh sweat. She locks eyes with you, hair tousled and lips curled into an adoring smile.
“Okay, fine,” you mutter your acquiescence, both of you knowing that statement wouldn’t hold up for long. “...Give me a minute, then I’ll clean up. You need some water, baby?”
Natasha lets out a pleased hum, snuggling into your chest.
She kisses your left boob affectionately, as you groan with sensitivity, playfully swatting at her arm. “No need. Just want you.”
“You have me,” you respond softly, running a hand through the brown locks of your wife’s hair, flattening it out with gentle strokes. “You always will.”
so that's chapter one of 'home is where the heart is!' i personally choose to believe pepper straps tony down every night. what are your thought on the kids?? mommy!nat?? butch!reader?? the incorporation of the texts?? there's so much feedback i require tbh
reblog or no more milf!nat
SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST
#⋆⭒˚。★ home is where the heart is#natasha romanoff smut#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff x reader smut#wlw smut#gxg smut#marvel smut#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha x reader#natasha x reader smut#sub natasha romanoff#bottom natasha romanoff#top reader#dom reader#butch4femme#butch reader#femme4butch
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❄︎ Family Barbecue ❄︎
Alexia's favourite girl's series
Family barbecues are the girl's new favourite thing
“Emilia why don’t you have your shoes on?” You addressed the girl in front of you who was looking at all her shoes. “I can’t find my light up shoes.” Emilia pouts up at you, eyes shining with unshed tears. Irene and her wife had invited you all to a family barbeque with all the Barca girls and their kids. The girls had not stopped talking about it for weeks and were positively bouncing at the thought of seeing everyone.
“It’s okay we will find them, come on.” You picked her up and carried her to the kitchen. Mateo and Emilia had recently gone on shopping spree with Irene and Alexia giving the two former captains an excuse to catch up. They had bought matching pairs of light up shoes that Mateo and Emilia were absolutely obsessed with. It had been a constant battle with Emilia to take them off since she had gotten them.
Alexia was in the kitchen when you and Emilia rounded the corner, “Ale have you seen Meels special shoes?” Val lit up from where she was sat comfortably in the ex-athletes’ arms. “Sí they are in their special box, so they don’t get lost remember pequeña?” Emilia hummed thoughtfully before running off to find them. You smiled softly at your wife as you made your way over to her.
Alexia welcomed you eagerly as her strong arm wrapped around your waist, pressing a soft kiss against your temple as she swayed gently making the two-year-old in her arms giggle. You cupped her chubby cheek as she babbled around her dummy, “Someone’s happy now that they’ve been fed huh? Just like your Mami.” Alexia nudged your hip as you teasingly smiled back at her.
Val’s little hands fell on both of her mother’s cheeks as she happily nuzzled her head against Alexia’s jaw. “¿Estás lista, cariño? We should go before we are late.” Alexia asks as she lets her squirming daughter down so she can roam around for a bit. “Sí, I’ll call Iz and meet you in the car.” Before you could turn around you were pulled back into the strong hold of your wife, “¿Adónde crees que vas?” You tilt your head slightly, “To get Is, should I be worried about your memory?” You teased slightly before wrapping your arms around her neck and giving her what she wanted.
Alexia sighed into the kiss like she had done since she was young. The familiarity will never dawn on the blonde as she softly breaks away to kiss down your neck. “Ale the kids.” You warn after a particularly sloppy kiss. You could feel her smirk against your skin before she pulled your impossibly closer, “We are well overdue a night to ourselves hermosa.” You melt into the purr of her accent as she presses her lips to as much skin as she can find, “Don’t start something you can’t finish Putellas.” You guide her lips back to yours and indulge her for a few more minutes. “I think we both know how quick I can make you finish amor.”
You push her back gently, rolling your eyes as her eyes rake down the front of your top, “You’re worse than a hormonal teenager.” Alexia shrugs, “Can you blame me when you have a wife as hot as mine?” You grant her one last kiss before ushering her to get Val into the car, you roll your eyes again when she slaps your ass as you walk away from her.
“Iz, Meels, Vamos time to go!” There is silence before a herd of footsteps barrel down the stairs, warning of being careful falling on deaf ears as they race to see who can get to the car the fastest. Once everyone was buckled up and safe and sound you were on route to Irene’s. Emilia and Isabella were chattering amongst themselves while Val was mesmerised by everything going on around her.
“Mami how long until we are there?”
“What kind of food will they have?”
“Is Mateo going to be wearing his light up shoes?”
“Is everyone going to be there?”
“Obviously Emilia, it’s a team barbeque!”
“I was just asking Iz, how am I s’posed to know.”
“You just are!”
“What if Tia Mapi isn’t there or Tia Patri or Tia Jana or Tia Claudia…”
A squeeze to your hand has you stifling a laugh as you glance over at your wife who is just as amused as you are. You shook your head softly as your daughters bicker lightly in the back. “¡Chicas, no creo que estéis excitadas! Do you mi corazón?” She asks you as turn to face your daughters who look appalled by their Mami’s insinuation. “Am too excited!” Emilia scoffs as she crosses her arms with a huff, “Sí you just don’t get it Mami.” Isabella agrees as she quietly whispers something to her younger sister, whatever was said sent the two into a fit of giggles. “They are too cool for you know Mami.” You tease as your wife chuckles softly, bringing your joined hands up to her lips.
Once you finally arrived at Irene’s house you and Alexia are left to carry all the bags left behind by the two overly excited girls. “At least we still have one who wants to stay with us.” You coo as you unbuckle Val from her seat, “Mi amor she’s two, she can’t form any opinions yet.”
The sight you’re met with once you enter the house is nothing short of perfect chaos. Emilia is hanging off Mapi’s shoulder as she climbs her like a tree. Isabella has been whisked off with her ‘older a cooler sisters’ (Jana and Claudia). The rest of the former world class team are lounged around the back garden as music flits around the area.
“Ay Dios mio, it’s a miracle you are only a half hour late.” Ona teases as she’s brought into a hug by her former Captain. “You try having three kids and come back to me Battle.” You tell her as she greets you with a kiss to the cheek. “I’m not complaining I love seeing mi bebés pequeños.” She coos at the two-year-old in your arms, Val shies away from the contact and buries her face into your neck.
“I remember when they were all like that, she’s so cute.” You laugh gently before greeting your hosts. “Mucho Gracias for having us Lucia, you are a saint.” The woman waves your thanks off, “You are the only one who keeps me sane chica, please never leave.” Irene scoffs playfully from her spot next to Alexia, “Don’t worry Alexia is just as bad.” Alexia just smiles cheekily as she pulls her friend into a hug.
“Mateo!”
“Emilia!”
The two six-year-olds squeal as they run to each other, Mapi long forgotten as the two bound around to show everyone their matching shoes. “Hola Lucia.” Isabella smiles as she pulls the woman into a hug. Lucia melts into the hold of your eldest and compliments her on her perfect manners before pinching her cheek. “Iz do you want a drink?” Irene calls from where her and Alexia are now sitting, “Sí, por favor.”
Isabella waltzes over to where her Mami and Tia are standing, “Mami ¿puedo tomar un refresco?” Alexia kisses her cheek with a nod “Tell Irene about your match hija.” Isabella’s eyes light up as she jumps into how she scored a hattrick and got two assists. Alexia smugly watching as the some of the other girls gather around to listen.
You take the wine offered to you gratefully before finding Frido and Ingrid who eagerly urge you over. Valentina seems to perk up a bit at the sight of her favourite Swede who showers her with affection.
Emilia found herself sat on Lucy’s lap, “Did you see my shoes Luce?” She points to her brand-new light up shoes as Lucy sets her down so she can show her how they light up in different colours. “That is so cool Meels my friend from England would love a pair of them!” Emilia’s head tilts slightly as she peers down at her feet again, “Your friend sound super cool!” Lucy laughs at the thought of her blonde captain, “I want to meet her!” Kiera picks the blonde up after overhearing their conversation, “You already have silly, your Tia Leah!”
Emilia giggles as Kiera tickles her softly, “I love Tia Leah! Can we show her my new shoes por favor!” Kiera and Lucy share a glance before melting at the sight of the girl’s puppy eyes. Kiera pulls out her phone a quickly facetimes her best friend who picks up straight away. Emilia tries to stand on her tippy toes to see as they briefly chat. “Someone wants to show you something, mate.” Kiera chuckles as Leah’s eyebrows raise with intrigue. Emilia is bouncing up and down with anticipation as Kiera finally turns the phone around so she could see her Tia Leah.
“Meelsie!” The Londoner squeals as she coos at the girl who blushes slightly, “Tia! Tia! I miss you so much!” Kiera gives the girl her phone who rambles on and on, catching the other blonde on what she has missed since Emilia has last seen her. After their accidental meeting when Emilia got lost at the Emirates, she has had a strong bond with the Gunner especially since Leah would come to some of the Barcelona games to ‘see Kiera’ when it was really to see her favourite Putellas.
Leah had gotten Emilia and Arsenal jersey for her sixth birthday and Emilia had been obsessed with it since then much to the pure chagrin of her Mami who had a heart attack at the sight of it. Alexia had ‘ban’ her from wearing it around the house, but you had insisted that Emilia wore it as often as possible being the secret Gunner you were.
“Tia look at my new shoes!” Leah’s’ eyes light up, “I want a pair!” Emilia giggled, “I promise the next time you visit I will get you a matching pair so you can match with me and Mateo!” Emilia quickly ran over to where her Mami was sitting with Jenni, “Mami! Mami we need to get another pair of these shoes!” Alexia glances down thinking Emilia’s were damaged, “Not for me Mami! For Tia Leah!” Leah laughed loudly as she was passed to Alexia, the Spaniard playfully rolling her eyes at her ‘enemy’. Jenni was cackling at the interaction as Alexia once again lectured Leah about the Arsenal jersey sitting in her house.
“Once a gunner, always a gunner Putellas!” Alexia huffed as Jenni greeted the English woman, Emilia was getting impatient as she made grabby hands for the phone so she could say bye to her Tia. “Williamson don’t you even think about it.” Alexia hissed as Isabella popped her head to see who was on the phone.
“Ay hola Leah!”
“Is, I have the perfect jersey for yo-,”
“Ay no!” Alexia pulled the phone away from her eldest as Leah’s laugh travelled back into Emilia’s hand. “Vamos Tia, I’ll bring you back to Kei.”
Alexia watched as Emilia happily skipped off towards the two Brits as she pulled Isabella down onto her lap. “Mami It’s okay I bleed Blaugrana nothing will change that.” The brunette promised as tapped over where the badge would be on her top. “At least I did something right.” She mumbled as she kissed the top of her eldest’s head land let her go before Isabella could leave Jenni ushered her over, “I could get you a tigres jersey with your name on it.”
“Jennifer!”
After the food had been served and everyone was happily full Valentina seemed to get a bit restless, reverting into the safety of your neck as her little hand softly hits your chest. “You okay baby?” You question as she avoids her dummy, “Mami.” It was whispered so softly that you barely heard it, but Val repeated it a few times until it was absolutely clear that she was squirming in you grip. Head searching for her Mami’s.
“Vale, let’s go find Mami.” It didn’t take long for you to spot her with Mapi the two laughing loudly as you approached. Val who had finally accepted her dodo reached her arms out for Alexia as she babbled her name around the dummy. Alexia’s smile brightened as she spotted the both of you and she could feel the butterflies in her stomach as her little girl reached out for her.
“Hola bebita, qué le pasa a mi vida?” You easily passed her over as you gave Alexia a grateful smile, “She wanted her Mami didn’t you Val.” Your youngest nodded as she clutched Alexia’s top tightly in her hand and relaxed at the familiar and safe smell of her Mami. “Creo que alguien tiene hambre, ¿eh?” Alexia asked with a smile as she bounces the girl on her knee. “I have a bottle in my bag amor you go get another glass of wine, I’ve got her.” You press a kiss to her awaiting lips before giving your daughter one too. “Where’s my kiss?” Mapi teases as you coo mockingly at her and press kisses to her cheek. Mapi laughs loudly as she embraces the affection before her attention is captured by the little girl in her best friend’s lap.
“She really is the cutest thing in the world, all your kids are dios!” Alexia smiles brightly and Mapi can feel the pride radiating of her best friend. “You really are the best mother Ale, you’re pequena’s adore you.” Alexia glances away from Val to send Mapi a soft smile, ¿Quieres saber mi secreto?” Mapi cocks her head, lips quirking in anticipation. “I have the greatest woman in my life, she taught me what love really is and what happiness feels like, and she brought me the most perfect little girls I could have ever asked for.” Alexia kissed her youngest’s cheek as she held the bottle for her.
“I would say you’ve gone soft, but you’ve always been this way.” Alexia laughed softly before nudging her best friend, “Gracias amigo.”
“Mapi! Mapi! Will you and Ingy push me and Mateo on the swings por favor.” Mateo nods eagerly as he clutches Emilia’s hand in his. “Ay, Godmother duties call, adios Vally!” Alexia watches fondly as Mapi picks both Mateo and Emilia up and their giggles light up the atmosphere even more than possible.
Alexia’s eyes flicker over to where Isabella is passing a ball around with Jana, someone who Isabella absolutely idolises, eyes lighting up when she sees her lead Barcelona out to a full Camp Nou, armband proudly displayed just like how Alexia used to be before she retired.
Finally, her eyes land on you in deep discussion with Kiera and Aitana. Alexia is overcome with the amount of love she constantly feels whenever she looks at you, it’s the same feeling she got when you were just kids and you had given her your favourite crayon to draw with. The same love she felt when she got down on one knee and proposed and when you walked down the aisle in the most breath-taking dress.
Val squirms a little and Alexia realises that she had moved the bottle slightly away from her daughter. With a soft apology and kiss to her head she pulls her closer as her eyes flicker around again.
“Promise me you will never grow up Val.”
Val slightly grunts around the bottle in her mouth and that’s a good enough answer for Alexia.
#alexia's favourite girls#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas imagines#alexia putellas#alexia putellas oneshot#woso x reader#woso imagine#woso imagines#woso#barcelona femeni
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Sunrise Morning’s | Alessia Russo
Based on this request :)
Summary: your 3-year-old twins decide it’s a great idea to wake you and Alessia up and go to the beach.
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A flight to Italy used to be easy for you and your wife Alessia, it was a flight that was just short of three hours but now that you were travelling with your three year old twins the flight felt like it lasted forever.
Your three year old twins, Leo and Emilia, were fairly easy three year olds. You and Alessia had gotten lucky because ever since they were born they had been easy babies.
You were halfway through the flight, there was still an hour to go out of the 2 hours and 30 minutes the flight was. The first hour the twins spent napping, Leo napped on Alessia’s chest and Emilia napped on yours.
“Mama, I hungry!” Emilia whined, slouching in the plane seat, “So bored!”
“Not much longer now, Bubs,” you said, pulling Emilia’s top back down as it slipped up, “Would you like a snack?”
She nodded her head and sat up, you pulled the snack box out of your bag. As you reached for the snack box, Leo’s eyes widened with curiosity. He was sat on Alessia’s lap, still sleepy from his nap as he rested his head against her chest.
Leo had always been more of a Mumma’s boy, he was attached to Alessia and went everywhere with her but he had your personality. However, Emilia was more of a Mama’s girl and was clingy to you. She was the louder one of the pair and was a little chatterbox like Alessia, she even was as clumsy as her Mumma.
Leo’s little fingers pointed at the colourful packaging as he leaned forward, trying to get a better look. Alessia shifted him on her lap, her gentle smile mirroring your own.
“Leo, do you want a snack too?” you asked, opening the box and revealing an assortment of crackers, dried fruit, and mini sandwiches.
Emilia had already grabbed a handful of pretzels and was munching away, her hunger temporarily forgotten as she watched the movie on the screen in front of her.
Leo nodded his head, his dirty blonde curls falling in front of his face. You held the box out to him as he leaned over Emilia, he picked out a few small cookies before going back to resting his head on Alessia’s chest.
After a while, Leo started to squirm in his seat beside Alessia that he had moved to. Emilia was still invested in her movie but Leo was starting to become restless.
“Mama, I’m bored.” Leo whined, “We nearly there yet?”
You glance at Alessia, both of you sharing a knowing look. Travelling with young children was always a ride for sure, and this flight was no exception. You reached into your bag again, pulling out a small colouring book and a set of crayons.
"Hey, Leo," Alessia says, leaning over the seat to hand him the colouring book, "How about we colour together? Look, there's a picture of an airplane!"
Leo's eyes lit up, and he eagerly took the colouring book. Alessia shifted him slightly, making room for him to sit up and colour. Meanwhile, Emilia glances over, intrigued by the activity.
"Can I colour too?" she asked, pulling the earphones out of her ears.
"Of course!" Alessia replied, handing her a crayon. "What colour should we make the sky?"
Emilia chose blue, and soon both twins were engrossed in their colouring. Leo carefully stayed within the lines, while Emilia scribbled with enthusiasm.
As you watched your children, you felt a mix of exhaustion and joy. Flights used to be so much easier when they were babies and sometimes you felt like you were disturbing the people around you.
"Only one more hour," Alessia whispered, “Then we can palm them off on my parents.”
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You and Alessia had now been in Italy with the twins for a few days now, you’d spent that time visiting Alessia’s family, catching up with them and spending days at the beach. You were staying at her grandparents house and they loved the twins, meaning you and Alessia got some time to yourself.
Over the past couple of days, Emilia and Leo had fallen in love with the beach. You’d spent hours on the beach with them and Alessia’s family, every evening it was all they could talk about.
It was currently five in the morning, Alessia’s arm was draped over your stomach whilst her head rested in the crook of your neck. You heard your bedroom door creak open, the sound of tiny feet tapping against the cold floor tiles followed.
"Mama, Mama!" Leo's voice sounded, barely above a whisper, "Can we go swimming? Please?"
Emilia echoed him, her curls bouncing as she climbed on the bed. "Swimming, Mama!"
You hummed, rubbing your eyes as you rolled over onto your back, “Babies, what are you doing up?”
“We wanna go beach, Mama!” Leo smiled, climbing up and sitting on top of you.
A ground sound from Alessia as Emilia flopped on top of her, her sleepy confusion melted into a soft smile as she reached for Emilia, pulling her into a warm hug.
“Bubs, it’s too early,” Alessia murmured, her hand running through Emilia’s golden curls.
"But the beach!" Leo's eyes widened, and he pointed toward the window. "Look! Beach!”
You sighed, “Guys the sun isn’t even up yet, we need to wait for mr sun to wake up before we can go!”
Emilia’s smile turned into a quivering lower lip, slipping out of Alessia’s grip. “No fair, Mama! We want beach now!”
Leo kicked his legs in protest. “Sunrise takes too long, Mama!”
Alessia sat up, “Leo, no. We don’t kick okay?” She said, a stern look that you could never take seriously on her face, “No kicking.”
“Sorry Mumma,” he mumbled, “I just want to go beach!”
Leo flopped on your chest, “And we can bubba, just not right now.” You calmly explained, kissing his forehead, “We can go later on, how about we cuddle.”
“No!” Emilia whined, “We want beach!”
You glanced at Alessia, who smiled as you sighed. You knew the twins wouldn’t fall back to sleep and they definitely weren’t giving in about the beach any time soon.
"Maybe we should just take them," she whispered. "They won't let us sleep anyway."
You nodded, glancing at the time beside you on the clock. 4:50am. Once the twins had gotten their breakfast, you would make it just in time for sunrise.
“Okay, okay!” You gave in, the twins cheering in unison, “we’ll go to the beach, but first we need breakfast!”
“I love you, Mama!” Leo cheered, wrapping his arms around your neck.
You slipped out of bed and threw on a baggy hoodie and black shorts before carrying Emilia downstairs, Alessia carried Leo close behind you.
The twins sat at the kitchen island, chatting between themselves as they coloured whilst you and Alessia tagged teamed on making breakfast. Alessia made breakfast for you and her while you cut up some fruit and pancakes for the twins.
Before you knew it, it was 5:20am and you were getting the twins ready to head to the beach. You dressed Emilia in a little sundress and Leo in a linen shirt and shorts set.
Alessia secured them in the double stroller, and you set off towards the beach. The air smelled of salt as you walked along the narrow back path that led to the see front. The twins chattered about sandcastles and seashells, their excitement contagious.
As you reached the beach, the sky began to blush with pink and orange hues. The twins squealed, pointing at the water. "Look, Mama! Look!"
You and Alessia settled onto a sun chair together, your toes sinking into the sand. The twins wasted no time getting out of the stroller, their little hands scooping up sand to build castles.
The sun peeked above the horizon, casting a warm glow on the water. You was cuddled into Alessia, your head resting against her chest.
“This is perfect.” She murmured, placing a kiss on your forehead.
“Mumma look!” Emilia called out to Alessia, pointing at her sandcastle, “look at my castle!”
Alessia gasped, matching the little girls enthusiasm, “Wow bubs!” She smiled, “that’s amazing! Are you going to decorate it?”
“Yeah!” Leo nodded his head, “we find some shells!”
The twins ran around, collecting a bucket of shells to decorate their castles with. You and Alessia watched peacefully together as the sun rose around you.
After an hour or so, the twins' energy slowed down and they curled up on the sun chair beside you. Leo yawned, rubbing his eyes. Emilia curled up against him, her thumb in her mouth.
Their little eyelids began to flutter as they drifted off to sleep. Alessia stood up and covered their bodies with her jumper, tucking them in before rejoining you on the sun chair. She laid down on top of you, her head now resting on your chest.
“We’re so lucky,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.
You pressed your lips to her forehead. “We are,” you agreed, “I’m glad we came down here.”
You and Alessia laid together, cuddled into each other's embrace, while the twins peacefully slept together. You watched the sunrise, the different shades mixing together, as you talked about your future. Nothing else in the world mattered to you in the moment, only your little family mattered.
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SUMMER OF LOVE | CS55
an: i can’t remember how this idea came to me but me and rhi ( @iimplicitt ) were losing our minds at this concept eheheh
wc: 4,2k
"Have I ever told you about the summer I fell in love?"
Her voice was soft, her words carrying the weight of a memory so vivid, it might have been yesterday. Her grandchildren, sprawled on the living room floor with curious, wide eyes, shook their heads.
"Nonna had a romance?" one of them teased, the youngest, her freckles scrunched with disbelief.
She smiled, the kind of smile that knew things, and reached for the delicate chain around her neck. Dangling from it was a small, sea-glass pendant, its edges smoothed by the tides of time.
"It was on the Amalfi Coast," she began, her voice faraway now, as though the waves themselves had come to pull her back. "I was young, too young to know better. And his name was Carlos."
The room seemed to fall silent, except for the soft clink of rain against the window.
"Was he handsome?" one of the older grandchildren asked, leaning in.
She chuckled, low and warm. "Handsome doesn’t quite cover it. He was... larger than life. Carlos had this way about him—like the sun rose just to warm his skin, like every room he entered belonged to him." She paused, her gaze slipping past them, beyond the room. "But that was the summer I learned something important. The things that seem too perfect are usually hiding something."
For a moment, no one said anything. Then she leaned back in her chair, and the spell broke, just enough to let her voice return. "But it was still the most beautiful summer of my life. Let me tell you how it began..."
The summer of straight out of university unfurled like a dream. She had just turned twenty-one, brimming with the kind of naive hope that made her believe anything was possible. She and her best friend, Emilia, had spent months scraping together every spare coin, renting a modest villa just outside Positano. The place was small, with paint flaking from its whitewashed walls and shutters that groaned in the evening wind, but the terrace was draped in bougainvillea, and the view—a vast, shimmering stretch of the Tyrrhenian Sea—was worth every sacrifice.
That was where she first saw him.
The morning had been spent on the beach, lying on striped towels under the relentless Italian sun. By early afternoon, their shoulders were warm and pink, their hair damp with sea salt, and they’d wandered into a small harbor café for spritzes and shade.
She wore a yellow sundress Emilia had insisted she pack. “It’s perfect for you,” Emilia had said that morning, tying the straps just right. The dress clung to her lightly tanned skin, and for the first time in a while, she felt... beautiful.
And then he walked in.
He wasn’t just handsome—he was magnetic. He had the kind of presence that made strangers turn their heads, as if sensing something larger than life in their midst. Carlos wore an unbuttoned white linen shirt and tan trousers that looked effortless, but the real allure was in the way he carried himself. As though the summer sun and the breeze off the water were his alone.
“Who is that?” Emilia whispered, wide-eyed.
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her heart was thudding in her chest, her eyes fixed on him as he strolled to the counter.
Carlos ordered a coffee in fluent, easy Italian, exchanged a few words with the waiter, and smiled—a slow, devastating smile that seemed to brighten the whole café. He didn’t look at her until he turned to leave, but when he did, their eyes met briefly. Just a glance, quick and electric.
That evening, the village square came alive with music and laughter. String lights twinkled above the cobblestones, and the air smelled of grilled seafood and wine. She spun under the lights, her sandals kicking up dust as Emilia urged her to dance. The world felt infinite, golden, and free.
She didn’t notice Carlos at first. But then, in the middle of a spin, she felt a hand catch hers.
She turned, and there he was.
“Carlos,” he said simply, as if introducing himself was the most natural thing in the world.
“May have to wait for that,” she replied, her voice quieter than she intended.
He smiled again, and in that moment, it felt like nothing could go wrong. She couldn’t have known what lay ahead, couldn’t have guessed that something so dazzling could carry the weight of a secret. All she knew was that, for the first time in her life, she felt utterly alive.
Carlos didn’t let go of her hand right away. Instead, he led her toward the edge of the square, where the noise of the festa softened into a hum and the scent of lemons hung heavy in the night air.
“Are you visiting Positano?” he asked, his what seemed to be a Spanish accent lacing his words, smooth and melodic.
She nodded, trying to steady her voice. “Yes. Just for the summer.”
His dark eyes lingered on her, studying her as if committing every detail to memory. “Then I’m lucky to have met you. Summers go by so quickly.”
She smiled, feeling both shy and bold under his gaze. “What about you? Do you live here?”
“No,” he said with a shake of his head, his curls catching the light. “I’m only passing through. A few weeks, maybe less. Work, mostly.”
She tilted her head. “Work? On the Amalfi Coast?”
Carlos laughed, a low, rich sound that made her pulse quicken. “Not a bad place for it, is it? I’m… well, it’s complicated. But let’s not talk about work.”
“Alright,” she said, her smile widening. “What should we talk about, then?”
Carlos stepped closer, his voice soft. “Tell me about you. Why did you come to Positano?”
She hesitated, not sure what he wanted to hear. The truth felt almost too simple. “It’s beautiful here,” she said after a moment. “And I wanted—no, I needed—to feel something different. To get away, to see more of the world before...”
“Before what?”
She laughed nervously. “Before real life starts, I suppose.”
Carlos nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. “I understand that. Sometimes it feels like we only have a little time to be free, doesn’t it?”
The words settled between them, heavier than the moment called for, but she didn’t mind. She felt as if he saw right through her—past the yellow sundress, past the carefree dances under string lights, straight into the part of her that had always craved something more.
He offered her his hand again. “Dance with me.”
She hesitated, glancing back at the crowd in the square. “There’s no music here.”
Carlos smiled. “Do we need it?”
Before she could answer, he spun her gently into his arms. The world seemed to narrow around them, until it was only the sound of her breath and the quiet rustle of leaves in the warm breeze. He moved with an ease that matched the confidence in his smile, leading her as if they’d done this a hundred times before.
She laughed, the sound light and unguarded, and for the first time in a long while, she stopped thinking. She stopped wondering what came next, or what was expected, and let herself fall into the moment.
For the rest of the night, Carlos stayed by her side. They wandered through the winding streets of the village, talking about nothing and everything, until the festa died down and the moon hung high over the cliffs.
At her villa, just as the horizon began to blush with the first hints of dawn, he paused at the gate.
“I’d like to see you again,” he said, his voice low.
She hesitated. She wanted to say yes, but the intensity of his gaze unnerved her, as though she were stepping into something she didn’t fully understand. Still, she found herself nodding.
“Tomorrow?”
Carlos smiled, and for a moment, he looked almost relieved. “Tomorrow,” he said. Then, with one last lingering glance, he turned and disappeared into the pale light of morning.
She stood there for a long time, the stone of the villa cool beneath her palms, wondering how it was possible to meet someone who made the rest of the world feel small.
Over the next week, Carlos became a constant presence in her life. He seemed to know exactly where to find her, whether she was perched on the terrace with a book or wandering through the narrow streets of Positano. Every day, he’d appear with that same easy confidence, carrying two gelatos, or a bundle of lemons he’d picked from a nearby grove, or a suggestion for some new adventure.
They swam in hidden coves where the water was impossibly blue. They hiked to quiet hilltops, where the sea stretched endlessly beneath them. They danced again in the village square when another festa lit up the night, and Carlos spun her so wildly that she laughed until her ribs ached.
Emilia noticed, of course. She watched with a smirk as Carlos whisked her away each day, teasing her endlessly when they returned.
“I like this for you,” Emilia said one night as they lounged on the villa’s terrace. A bottle of wine sat between them, the remains of dinner scattered on their plates. “You deserve a little romance.”
She smiled, swirling her glass. “It’s more than a little, isn’t it?”
Emilia raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, her cheeks warming. “It feels… big. Like I’m living in someone else’s story.”
Emilia grinned. “That’s how you know it’s good.”
As the week went on, she found herself looking forward to Carlos’ visits more and more. She didn’t just enjoy his company—she craved it. The way he made her laugh, the way he seemed to really see her, the way his stories always hinted at some grander, more mysterious life just beyond her reach.
And then, on the last evening of the week, as they stood on the terrace overlooking the sea, Carlos said something that caught her completely off guard.
“Stay,” he said simply.
She turned to him, startled. “Stay?”
“For another week,” he clarified, leaning against the railing. “Don’t leave tomorrow. Stay here, in my villa. Let me show you more. One more week—it’s nothing.”
Her heart fluttered at the way he said it, so casually, as if the world would bend to make it happen.
“I can’t just… stay,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.
“Why not?” Carlos smiled, leaning closer. “Your life will still be waiting for you when you leave. But this—” he gestured to the view, to the stars scattered over the sea—“this won’t wait.”
When Carlos finally left that night, she found herself pacing the villa, unsure what to do. She turned to Emilia, who was stretched out on the couch, flipping through a guidebook.
“So,” Emilia said, not even looking up, “what did he want?”
She hesitated. “He asked me to stay.”
Emilia sat up, her eyes lighting up. “And what did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything.” She chewed her lip, pacing again. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, I like him—”
“You like him?” Emilia interrupted with a laugh. “Chica, you’re practically glowing every time he walks into a room. Let’s not downplay it.”
She sank onto the couch beside her, covering her face with her hands. “I think I’m catching feelings for him,” she admitted, her voice muffled.
Emilia’s grin softened into something kinder. “Good,” she said. “You should. Isn’t that the whole point of a summer like this?”
She peeked through her fingers. “But what if it’s a bad idea?”
Emilia shrugged, pouring the last of the wine into her glass. “Then it’s a bad idea you’ll never forget. But if you don’t stay, you’ll spend the rest of your life wondering what might’ve happened.”
She stayed quiet for a long moment, staring out at the night. The stars felt closer here, the world smaller and brighter. She could already imagine what one more week with Carlos might feel like—the laughter, the late nights, the way her chest tightened every time he looked at her.
Emilia nudged her. “So? What are you going to do?”
She smiled softly, her decision already forming.
“I’m going to stay.”
Her extra week in Positano felt like stepping into another world, one that existed just for the two of them. With each passing day, Carlos became more ingrained in her life—guiding her to places tourists never found, introducing her to the quiet beauty of sunrises on the cliffs and the music of waves crashing against hidden coves.
They spent hours talking, laughing, and sharing pieces of themselves. He told her about his childhood, how he’d grown up by the sea but had spent most of his adult life in cities that never seemed to sleep. She told him about her love of art, her dreams of finding a life that felt as vibrant as the colors on her canvas.
The days blurred into golden afternoons and soft evenings, and each moment with Carlos felt lighter than air.
But it was the night before her second departure when everything changed.
They were sitting on the terrace of the villa, the stars bright and close overhead. The wine they’d been sipping was nearly gone, and the air was thick with the scent of salt and bougainvillea. Carlos had been quiet, uncharacteristically so, leaning back in his chair as if lost in thought.
She reached over, brushing her fingers against his hand. “What are you thinking about?” she asked softly.
He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “Nothing worth troubling you with.”
She laughed, light and soft. “You think too much.”
“And you don’t think enough,” he countered with a faint smile, his eyes meeting hers.
She hesitated, her heart beating faster. She felt as though the night were holding its breath, the world tilting slightly. The words came before she could stop them.
“I think I’m falling in love with you.”
For a moment, the only sound was the distant crash of the waves below.
Carlos didn’t move, didn’t speak. His eyes darkened, his expression tightening just enough for her to notice.
Panic shot through her chest. She pulled her hand back quickly. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to— I don’t know why I—”
“Amore, stop,” he interrupted gently, but she couldn’t meet his eyes.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” she muttered, rising from her chair. “I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I? I knew this wasn’t—”
“Amore,” he said again, more firmly this time, standing and catching her wrist. “Don’t. You haven’t ruined anything.”
She turned to him then, her eyes glistening, searching his face for something—anything—that would make her feel less foolish. But what she saw only confused her more.
“Then why do you look like that?” she whispered.
Carlos closed his eyes for a moment, his grip on her wrist loosening. When he opened them again, there was something pained in his expression, something she couldn’t place.
“I didn’t want this to happen,” he said softly.
Her stomach sank. “Didn’t want what to happen?”
He let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “Amore, I—” He paused, as if searching for the right words. “I wasn’t honest with you. From the beginning.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
“I have someone waiting for me,” he said finally, his voice heavy. “Back in Monaco. A fiancée.”
The word hung in the air, sharp and cutting. She froze, her mind racing, trying to make sense of what he’d just said.
“A… fiancée?” she repeated, her voice hollow.
“Yes.” He looked at her, his expression pleading now. “I never meant to hurt you, amore. I didn’t expect to meet someone like you.”
She stepped back, shaking her head. “So what was this, then? A game? A way to pass the time before you went back to her?”
“No, it wasn’t like that,” Carlos said quickly, his voice breaking. “It was real. Every moment with you was real.”
She stared at him, her heart splitting in two. “But it doesn’t matter, does it? You’re going back to her.”
Carlos didn’t answer right away. His silence was all the confirmation she needed.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She turned away, gripping the edge of the terrace railing as the wind whipped her hair around her face. “You should leave,” she said finally, her voice trembling.
“Amore—”
“Stop calling me that!” she shouted, cutting him off. “You have a fiancée?” she repeated, her voice trembling with both disbelief and fury.
“Yes,” Carlos said quietly, his shoulders slumping. “But it’s not… it’s complicated.”
Her laugh was sharp and bitter. “What could possibly be complicated about being engaged and then spending two weeks seducing someone else?”
He took a step closer, his hands open, pleading. “She made me marry her.”
She froze, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What?”
Carlos looked at her, desperation etched in his features. “She made me. Or she’d leave me.”
Her mouth fell open, and for a moment, she couldn’t find the words. When they finally came, they were laced with disbelief. “Made you? What do you mean, made you? Are you some kind of dog, Carlos?”
His jaw tightened, and he looked away, ashamed. “It’s… it’s more complicated than you think. In my line of work. There are a type of people I should be seen with. If I didn’t agree—”
“Then she’d leave you,” she finished coldly. “And you couldn’t stand that, could you?”
Carlos’s eyes darted back to her. “It’s not like that.”
“Then tell me what it’s like,” she snapped, her voice breaking.
“I don’t love her,” he said quickly, his voice rising. “I love you.”
Her heart wavered for a moment, but her anger flared again, overpowering the fragile flicker of hope. “Then why don’t you break up with her? I don’t understand.”
Carlos ran a hand through his hair, his frustration mounting. “That’s the problem.”
Her laugh was sharp, cutting through the night. “The problem? Carlos, what does that even mean? Do you love her or not?”
“No!” he said, stepping closer. “I told you, I don’t love her. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”
She stared at him, her chest heaving with the weight of his words. She wanted to believe him—wanted to believe that the past week hadn’t been a lie. But something inside her cracked, a voice of reason cutting through the chaos.
“And who’s to say you won’t find another young thing in another sunny place and do the same thing to me?” she asked, her voice quiet but firm.
Carlos recoiled as if she’d slapped him, his face falling. “Amore… it’s not like that. I swear, it’s not.”
“Isn’t it?” she shot back, her eyes narrowing. “You’re standing here, telling me you love me, but you’re also telling me you’re tied to someone else. What am I supposed to do with that, Carlos? What kind of future could we even have?”
He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. For the first time, Carlos seemed uncertain, his usual confidence faltering.
She shook her head, stepping back toward the railing. “You don’t even know what you want, do you? You want me, but you won’t let go of her. You want both, and that’s not love, Carlos. That’s selfish.”
“Amore,” he said softly, reaching for her, but she pulled away.
“No,” she said, her voice firm. “I think you should leave. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.”
For a long moment, he stood there, as if trying to find the right words to stop her from slipping away. But there was nothing he could say, and he knew it.
Without another word, he turned and walked into the darkness, leaving her alone on the terrace, her tears finally falling as she gripped the cool stone railing.
She’d come to Positano searching for freedom, for something bigger than the life she’d left behind. But now, she felt more trapped than ever, chained to a memory she’d never quite escape.
“And so,” she continued, her voice soft, tinged with a wistful smile, “I left Positano. I packed my things, kissed the sea goodbye, and never looked back.”
The youngest leaned forward, her dark curls bouncing. “But what happened, Nonna?”
She tilted her head, her gaze distant, as though she were looking out at the cliffs of Positano again, the sea shimmering beneath her memory.
“He loved another woman,” she said simply, her voice steady despite the weight of the words.
“And what happened to her?” asked the eldest, his voice filled with curiosity.
She smiled faintly, leaning back in her chair. “He fell out of love.” She let the silence linger for a moment before adding, “And I didn’t wait for him. Instead, I met your abuelo.”
The children exchanged glances, the story lingering between them. Finally, the youngest spoke again, her voice cautious. “Nonna, did you ever… stay in touch with him?”
Her smile faltered, just slightly. She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she stood, smoothing her skirt with her hands. “Wait here,” she said, her voice quieter now.
She crossed the room, her steps deliberate, and opened the door to her bedroom. The grandchildren exchanged curious looks but didn’t follow, their gazes tracking her as she disappeared into the wardrobe.
Moments later, she returned, a small wooden box in her hands. The edges were worn with age, but it was polished and cared for, as though it had been opened and closed countless times. She placed it gently on the coffee table and sat back down, her hands folded in her lap.
“What’s in there?” asked the middle child, her voice barely above a whisper.
She hesitated for a moment before opening the lid. Inside were dozens of letters, all neatly tied with faded ribbons. The envelopes were yellowed with time, but the handwriting on each one was unmistakably bold, slanted, and familiar.
The eldest leaned closer, picking up one of the letters. On the front, her name was written in Carlos’ elegant script. When he turned it over, he froze.
“Abuela,” he said, his eyes wide, “es el piloto de Ferrari?”
Her lips pressed into a thin smile, her eyes softening with a mix of emotions. She reached over and took the letter from him, her fingers lingering on the edges of the paper.
“To me,” she said softly, “he was just Carlos.”
The room fell silent, the letters resting on the table like echoes of a life she hadn’t shared before. Her grandchildren didn’t speak, sensing that this part of the story didn’t need more words. She glanced at the letters one last time before carefully closing the lid of the box.
“So what you’re saying is… our abuelo could have been Carlos Sainz?” The only boy said.
His sister gasped, her hands flying to her cheeks, while the youngest giggled, nudging her brother.
Her stern look didn’t last long before her lips curved into a small smile. “Mira,” she said, leaning forward slightly, her tone serious but warm, “if your heart tells you something, believe it.”
The grandchildren quieted, their attention snapping back to her.
She gestured to the box on the table. “There was a time when my heart told me to stay. To hold on to a dream. But it also told me to walk away, even when it hurt.” Her voice softened, her gaze drifting again to a place only she could see. “And because I listened, I found your abuelo. I found a love that was steady and strong, one that didn’t ask me to sacrifice myself.”
The children were quiet, absorbing her words.
The eldest broke the silence, her voice small but curious. “But… do you think you made the right choice, Nonna?”
She smiled gently. “I know I did,” she said. “Because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have the three of you sitting here, making a mess of my living room.”
The children laughed, the heaviness of the moment lifting just a little.
The boy grinned again, though his voice was softer this time. “Still, it’s kind of crazy. We could’ve been the grandchildren of a Ferrari legend.”
She chuckled, shaking her head. “Ay, chico. Legends don’t make families. Your abuelo gave me something far greater than any title or fame ever could.”
She reached out, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his hair. Then she looked at each of them in turn, her voice steady but full of warmth. “Remember this, mi amor. Listen to your heart. But make sure it leads you somewhere worth staying.”
For a moment, the grandchildren were silent, watching their grandmother as though seeing her for the first time. Then the eldest crawled onto the armrest of her chair, curling against her side.
“Te quiero, Nonna,” she murmured.
She smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Sofia’s face. “I love you too, mi cielo.”
As the sun began to set outside, casting the room in a golden glow, the box of letters sat on the table, unopened but not forgotten. A quiet reminder of a life lived boldly, with a heart that never stopped listening.
the end.
#f1#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#formula one x reader#f1 x reader#formula 1#formula one#carlos sainz fic#carlos sainz fluff#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz fanfic#carlos sainz#cs55 imagine#cs55 x reader#cs55 fic#cs55#ferrari formula one#ferrari formula 1#ferrari
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Give us some max/emilia post Australia end cuteness. Emilia misses one race and it’s Australia. Max dnfs. Ect ect
Or have a text chain of Emilia being a pure menace texting max all the innuendos and funny commentary during a press conference.
This is too adorable. I went with the first one because I’m a glutton for punishment lol. I hope you enjoy it 🫶🫶🫶
I’m only up when you’re not down
You don’t actually speak to Max after his DNF. Huddled into the small living room of your suite in Niseko with the rest of your friends to watch the Grand Prix, you’d felt sick the second Carlos had passed Max.
“Fuck, fuck,” you’d slammed your hand on the table so hard that your coffee spilled. You didn’t even take your eyes off the screen. “Shit,”
You watched him crawl towards the pits, smoke billowing from the car. Get out, Max, get out. You all sat in silence until he was out of the car.
When the cameras showed an irate Max talking to an engineer in the garage, all Stan said was, “he’s going to be so pissed,”
He was. You’d tried to call him but it had gone straight to voicemail, a telltale sign that he just needed to stew in the rage for a while. You’d sent him a message telling him to call when he could but he hadn’t. You’d watched the rest of the race just to catch glimpses of him in the garage, hiding his disappointment so well.
Later, he’d texted he’d managed to get an earlier runway slot since he wasn’t attending a debrief and that he’d be in Japan by late afternoon, so you skipped out on dinner to meet him at the small airport in Hokkaido.
Max and Rupert disembark from the jet still talking, and you can see even from twenty metres away the day he’s had. There’s a tension in his jaw, he jogs down the steps of the plane, pushing a hand through his hair, which is getting a little bit too long. He’s moving a bit too quick and a bit too stiff for your comfort.
After nearly two weeks away from him, this is the last state you want to see him in, but you can’t ignore the sheer contentment that washes over you at seeing him at all. You’re pathetic and you know it, too clingy and too giddy, and part of you hopes that in ten years you’ll lose this feeling. Most of you knows you never will, because it’s always been there. You haven’t always called it what it was, but you always felt it. And he did, too.
You can tell by the way his shoulders sag when he comes into the building and spots you immediately, a small smile on his lips as you hurry towards him.
“Hey,” it’s whispered, an exhale, the wind knocked out of you as your body collides with his and you wind your arms around his neck. He’s warm and he smells like the t-shirt you’ve been sleeping in since the last time you saw him. You feel your feet leave the ground for a second and you don’t even know if that’s real.
His gentle, “hi,” is said into the skin of your neck, and it feels like a jolt of adrenaline fed straight to your jugular.
“You were on fire today,” you say, fingers tickling at newly cut hair at the back of his neck.
Max’s body shakes with a laugh as you pull away from him, but in an unusual twist, he knots his fingers with yours before you can move.
“I was hoping this was the day you decided to skip watching. Sorry you wasted your day,”
You squeeze his hand to get his hand to stop his eyes darting everywhere. “I didn’t waste my day, Max. Watching you isn’t a waste, ever,”
You know he’s thinking it’s a platitude, that he didn’t win so he might as well have been at home and you might as well have been skiing. You want to argue, make him hear you. He won’t believe you, and by rights he shouldn’t. So you let it go, because you have no choice.
“Yeah, that was an incredible lap I did there,” Max husks out a chuckle and looks away from you. He’s joking, but he isn’t. He’s let it go, because he has no choice.
“Well, I for one am more excited about the annual Suzuka revenge arc. It’s incredibly sexy, and now,” you say as you lean up to press a kiss to his jaw, your free hand slipping under his jacket so there’s one less layer between you, “I can do something about that,”
Max only hums in response, his fingers tightening around yours.
“Not to kill the mood, guys, but I am, you know, here,” Rupert says.
You’re embarrassed to admit you’re not actually sure when he collected his rucksack from the baggage trolley and came to stand beside Max.
Max laughs, a telltale blush spreading to his ears, while you let go of him and open your arms to Rupert.
“I could never forget you, Rupert,” you say as you hug him, “I just like an audience,”
“Oh my God,” Max groans, laughing harder. He throws his head back, and his face scrunches up. He’s looking more like himself by the second, and you figure you must be, too.
You start to meander towards the exit, following your bags out to the stupidly large SUV with the driver waiting to load your luggage. Rupert wastes no time climbing into the car, while you and Max linger by the boot of the car. This is the last moment you’ll have alone before you get in the car with Rupert, and then Max is swarmed by friends he hasn’t seen in months the second you get back.
“Oh,” you slide a hand into your pocket while Max watches you in confusion. “Here,”
You pull out his Cartier cuff and hold it out to him. He holds out his wrist and you put it back on for him, preparing for him to make some comment about how it didn’t bring him luck this time, and how superstition is stupid.
“No more skipping races,” is what he actually says, and you look up at him to find him pouting. The pout is cute but unserious. His eyes, however, make it seem like he’s asking. “Crazy shit happens when you’re not there,”
He’s right. This is the first race you’ve missed since Singapore last year
You give him a coy smirk. “Is that your way of saying you missed me?”
“No.” He says simply.
You’re surprised when he kisses you. He rarely does when you’re not alone, unless it’s a quick peck at parc fermé. This is a kiss that has him pulling you almost as close to him as you want to be, a kiss that feels a bit like getting back whatever part of you he took with him when he left.
When he lets go of you, he takes a second to look at you before leaning down to press one more kiss to your swollen lips.
“I missed you.” He says, no pout, all promise.
It will never not be embarrassing that three words from this nerd with one hobby and abysmal taste in t-shirts has you weak at in the knees.
“I missed you too, Maxy,” you say, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from his forehead.
You both take one more deep breath before heading around the side of the car, where Max opens the door for you with the hand that isn’t holding yours.
“Real shame that race got cancelled, huh?” You say as you climb in, meeting Max’s gaze with a wink.
“Oh yeah,” Max agrees as he slides in behind you. “Really sad.”
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La Playlist
summary: You work at a Blockbuster store in Nueva York. Every day is the same, you daydreaming about a guy to come in and sweep you off your feet. To make you his. Will today be any different?
word count: 5k
tags: Miguel x fem!reader, 90's/early 2000's AU
warnings: PinV, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys!), oral f! receiving. Let me know if there is something else!
song:
youtube
It was just another day in this awful city, Nueva York.
Like always, you woke up thanks to your alarm, went to the bathroom, did your routine, and had breakfast, before getting ready for your job. But not as any other day, you decided to dress cute today, show your figure, look nice. You worked at a Blockbuster, nothing interesting. Not a single man worthy of your attention ever crossed the doors of the store, but something was telling you that today was going to be different.
You picked your best outfit, did your make up and hair and off you were, trying to get on time without messing up your appearance. You were the only working the opening shift, the mornings always being slow, and today wasn’t the exception.
Upon arriving you opened the store and got to work, placing the movies that were returned the previous day on their respective shelves. Once the work was done, you checked the notebook with the movies already on rent and the dates that they were supposed to be returned.
After staring at it for like half an hour you huffed. Can’t this day become any more boring? People came and went on the street, some glancing inside, but never coming in. It wasn’t like they were your knight in shining armor. None of the men walking in front of the glass seemed to catch your eye. Just when I dressed myself up. What a waste of time
You continued staring out the window for a couple minutes, elbow on the counter in front of you, with your chin resting on the palm of your hand.
The summer sun was beginning to enter the store, hitting your face lightly. The warmth spread through your body, lulling you to sleep. Trying to stay awake, you grabbed your mp3, plugged your headphones and began listening to music: La Playlist by Emilia Mernes blasting through your ears making you forget about the world around you.
You closed your eyes, feeling the music. You hummed to the rhythm, losing yourself into it, almost missing the ring of the bell of the door, signalling someone coming in. Almost
That split second could have been the biggest mistake of your life.
Opening your eyes, you expected a normal client, you know, a group of teenagers looking for something fun to watch, a nerd searching for his superhero movies or a woman trying to find a romcom capable of tearing her away from her troubled/awful love life.
What you did not expect was a Greek god entering through that door.
The tall man, with perfect tan skin and brown locks strolled into the store with his hands on his front pockets. He was wearing a black tank top on top of a white one with navy blue jeans. The sun hit his skin perfectly, it reflecting on his huge arms, accentuating his veins.
The longer you looked at him, the more perfect he was. His face was probably sculpted by all the gods combined, creating a perfect structure. High and sharp cheekbones, a beautiful nose and really kissable lips.
The guy nodded your way, acknowledging you, but you were too distracted to notice, daydreaming about all the things you would love him to do to you. The brunette turned his back to you, giving you a perfect view of his huge shoulders, his body built like an inverted triangle.
Oh, how you wished he could lift you up so you could wrap your legs on his tiny waist
You continued admiring him from afar, not even realizing you were biting your lip until you tasted blood. Pull yourself together girl, you thought. It is not everyday that you see a man like this. Time to shine.
Pulling yourself off the counter you tried to fix yourself, tidying your hair, smoothing your top and making sure your skirt was presentable. You took a deep breath, calming yourself, preparing for what you were about to do. You couldn’t mess this up.
You walked silently behind him, aiming not to startle him. He was in the science fiction section. Interesting. He didn’t strike you as the nerd type, but whatever. Your plan wasn’t to engage in conversation, but something else. Something more physical.
Stopping just a few centimeters away from him you couldn’t decide how to call his attention. Should you touch his shoulder? Or was that too much. You didn’t want to scare him off. You decided to go with a softer approach.
You cleared your throat lightly, catching his attention.
The man turned his neck towards you, looking you up and down with a smirk on his face. Oh.
“I was wondering when you were going to come and say hi” he said, the smirk never leaving his face.
His voice was smooth and low, turning your legs into jelly. He turned his whole body towards you, crossing his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge. Damn, how you wish you could wrap your hands around them and squeeze them.
“Darling?” he asked, staring right into you.
“Oh, I-” you said startled. You didn’t think you were staring at him for that long for him to notice.
In that moment, the most beautiful sound you had ever heard erupted from his mouth. His laugh was like a breath of fresh air. His lips curled upwards, showing his white teeth. You could feel yourself growing hot. Your cheeks burning, your ears, and other parts too, but for entirely different reasons.
“Ay nena,” he began, after calming down. “You are so adorable.”
He reached forward, grabbing your chin between his thumb and index finger. You closed your eyes for a second, trying to calm yourself down and make sense of what he was doing to you. When you opened them back again, his eyes bore into you, a smirk back in his lips. He knew you were his. He had you just where he wanted, and you would let him do anything to you. Anything.
He stepped towards you, making you step back, before he used his other hand to grab your waist, keeping you in place, close to his body.
“Uh uh uh” he taunted. “Don’t run away from me. It is too late for that now.”
You gulped. Oh, the things his voice was doing to you, and he could tell.
His touch was burning you. The skin to skin contact becoming too much, but at the same time not enough. You needed him somewhere else, somewhere you couldn’t reach properly, not even alone in your bedroom, with no one but yourself and your running mind.
You knew he would make you see colors, but you needed to feel it, to sense it. You needed him to touch you, more than he was touching you now.
He inched his face closer, the air coming out of his barely open mouth hitting your face. The cologne he was wearing entering your system, like a drug, making you more obsessed of what you already were.
He stared down at you, running his eyes through your face, enjoying the reaction, the control, he had on you. You couldn’t help but do the same, staring at him through your half lidded eyes, drinking him in, inhaling him, feeling his chest touch yours with every breath he took.
The tension in the room could be cut with a knife, the temperature rising by the second. If neither of you took it to the next level, you feared you could explode.
The man moved the hand that was holding your chin to grasp your neck lightly, leaving his thumb free to run it across your skin. Beginning on your pulse point of your neck, pressing lightly, making a whimper escape your lips, despite your efforts of keeping it in.
His lips curled up, enjoying every little reaction he coaxed out of you. His thumb continued exploring your skin, caressing your cheek and continuing on your bottom lip. His eyes were focused on the trace of his finger, amazed at how your saliva coated his thumb.
The teasing was becoming unbearable, making you act. Gaining courage you grabbed his right wrist, keeping his hand close to your mouth, while licking his thumb, before sucking it between your lips.
For a split second, his smirk fell off his face, eyes opening, amazed and surprised by your actions. His eyes became hungry, darkening. His left hand grasped your waist harder, squeezing your flesh.
You continued sucking his thumb, moving your tongue along it, trying to not break eye contact, daring him to do the next move.
The thrill of getting caught made the situation so much hotter, your mind running with all the places he could take you in, the you *wish* he would take you in.
The man pressed his thumb into your tongue, catching you off guard, making you moan around him, closing your eyes. He used his thumb and index finger to grab your tongue and pull it out of your mouth lightly before moving forward and clashing his lips with yours.
The kiss was messy, hungry, hot. Teeth clashing against teeth, lips moving against lips, tongues fighting for dominance. You moaned into his mouth, the taste of him being exactly how you imagined.
He took the opportunity to enter your mouth, exploring it. His hands moved to your head, keeping it in place. One of his hands was on your neck, putting pressure lightly while the other played with your hair.
Your mind became fussy, the intensity of the kiss pushing all the thoughts out of your head, the only thing on your brain was **him**. Your hands started to wonder, starting at his chest, down to his tone abs and onto his head, playing with his perfect brown locks.
You pressed your body against him, your tits against his firm chest. The action making him moan in your mouth, making you smile.
His hand on your head grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling you backwards, away from his mouth lightly. You both were breathing heavily against each other, mouths still at each other’s reach. Your eyes were closed, not daring to open them, hoping this was only the beginning.
“Nena,” he said, breathlessly.
“Mmm”
“Look at me,” he demanded.
Opening your eyes slowly you were met with his. His hair was messy, thanks to you playing with it, his mouth merely centimeters away from you, looking plump from all the kissing.
You saw his mouth moving, clearly talking to you, but you were too dazed.
He pulled at your hair, making you look straight into his eyes.
“Sweetheart”
“Mmm”
“I said,” he continued. “Is there a better place for us to continue? I would take you right here, but I fear that there are a lot of prying eyes, and I want you all to myself.”
You looked at him with an open mouth, losing the ability to speak. *He wanted to continue*. He looked at you with a smirk on his face.
“Did the baby lose the ability to speak?” he mocked.
“I-” you gulped, your mouth feeling dry all of a sudden. “The-there is a backroom.”
“Good girl.” he smiled. “Show me.”
You nodded at the best of your ability with his grip on your hair. He let you go. The second his touch left your body you missed it, feeling empty.
You stepped back, your hands falling from his chest. Staring at his hungry eyes you could see he was becoming impatient, and so were you.
Carefully, you grabbed his right hand, tugging it towards you, signalling him to follow you. You walked towards the backroom, a million thoughts running through your mind.
You were fucked, you were so fucked. If another client entered those doors and caught you two in this situation, you were fucked. You would lose your job, and probably no other job would take you. But, honestly? Who the fuck cares? This was a once in a lifetime chance.
You had a Greek god behind you, who was willing to make you feel like never before. Among those thoughts were the things he could do to you. Whatever he did, you knew he was going to be good.
You reached the backroom closed door. You put your free hand on it, and looked back at him, making sure he was still there, despite feeling his warmth in the palm of your hand. You locked eyes with the guy, before looking past him to the front door, the fear of getting caught still on you back of your mind.
“Hey,” he said, snapping you out of your thoughts, your eyes staring back at him. “We are fine. I am going to take care of you.”
You wanted to believe him, oh so desperately. You were ready to throw yourself in his arms. The way he affirmed that statement making you feel safe, taken care of.
You smile shyly before nodding and making the final push on the door, opening it.
He let go of your hand, grabbing your waist and urging you into the small room, hurrying into himself before shutting the door, leaving the outside world behind.
“This is much better,” he talked into the darkness, the only source of light being the small gap between the door and the floor and wall. “I wish I could see you better though.” His hand never left your body, caressing the skin of your sides and front, becoming bolder.
Desperately, you tried to find the cord connected to the lamp on the roof. You needed to see him too, you wanted to see him in all his glory. Reaching across the air you grabbed the cord and pulled, the room becoming illuminated instantly.
Smiling, you looked at him, finding him already staring at you. He looked you up and down before licking his lips, the action making you nervous.
He stepped towards you, determination clear in his eyes. You walked back into the table behind you, your back hitting its side, trapping you between it and his body.
“I thought,” he said, grabbing your waist harshly, grasping at your flesh, making you yelp from the sudden action. “I’ve told you not to run away.”
“Am not.” you said, placing the palm of your hands on his chest, pushing back a little to stare at his face.
The man smirked, before pulling you towards him and taking your bottom lip between his, sucking at it, making you moan into his mouth. Both his hands were now exploring your body. Your hips, your waist, your back, your neck, every part of your body was being touched by him, except where you needed him most.
“Siir-” pulling back from the kiss, you whined not knowing his name. *How could you forget to ask that?*
“What’s wrong baby?” he said, caressing your cheek tenderly, far different from the touches he was giving you a few seconds ago while exploring your mouth with his tongue.
“I need you.” you said shyly, scared of meeting his gaze.
“Yeah?” he smirked, his lips brushing against yours, taunting you.
“Mmm” you nodded, not thinking clearly, his smell surrounded you, intoxicating you. The taste of him lingering on your mouth, your brain asking for more, your heart about to explode.
He chuckled, amused by how desperate you were, but so was he, you could feel it.
The man grabbed your neck, pulling you back again against him. His mouth coming in contact with your again messily. Your hands, that were on his chest, surrounded his neck, playing with the hair behind it, twirling, pulling, making him moan in your mouth, giving you the opportunity to explore him with your tongue.
His hands on your body moved to your hips, pulling you up. The sudden movement surprised you, making you bite his bottom lip, making him groan. He placed you on the table, your legs wrapping around his waist, just where they belonged.
He pulled back hissing, a slight cut on his bottom lip, a bit of blood pooling out of it. He touched his lip with his fingers, drawing out some blood.
“Cheeky,” he smirked, before smashing his lips with yours, smiling into the kiss. The taste of blood combined with his made you moan. The friction of your bodies was more intense thanks to the new position. You could feel his hard on brushing against your core with every push and pull of your bodies.
He for sure could feel how wet you were, the only barrier between the front of his jeans and your heat being your panties, thanks to your skirt being pulled up thanks to him.
His hands fell to your legs, massaging your outer upper thighs, squeezing the flesh, teasing you. His kisses moved to the corner of your mouth to your cheek and down to your neck, finding your sweet spot immediately, just as you two were meant to be from the start.
You pulled at his hair, making him groan and grind his body against yours, pulling a moan out of you, his hard on brushing against your clit with every thrust of his hips. His lips sucking at the skin of your neck. You moved your head to the side, leaving him more room.
You were panting now, his touch, his lips, his scent, him, was all you could think of. Your mouth opened and it was becoming difficult to breathe. Your chest rising and falling, as your hardened nipples rubbed against his chest.
His hands moved to your inner legs, inching closer and closer to where you needed him most. You could swear your wetness was spilling out of your panties and onto the wood of the table. You should be embarrassed, but you couldn’t care less.
Getting tired of your neck, the man moved his kisses down the center of your throat to the valley of your breasts. Moving one hand from your thighs to grasp one of your tits, making you arch your back, giving your all to him.
While one of his hands was massaging the skin on your inner thigh, the other was massaging your breast, his thumb caressing your hardened nipple through the material of your top and bra. Moans were spilling left and right from your chest, followed by whines and whimpers begging him to do more, to touch you properly.
“Sir, please.” you whined, out of breath. “Take it off, please.” you begged, shutting your eyes tightly, focusing on the feeling on his hands across your skin.
“Anything you want” he answered, detaching his lips from the skin of your chest, where he had been carefully sucking a hickey.
Straightening himself up, he grabbed the ends of your top, pulling it upwards, signalling you to put your hands up. And so you did, letting him pull the top over your head, leaving behind a layer of clothes between you two.
He groaned, after tossing your top behind, having a clearer look at your chest.
“You are so damn beautiful” he whispered, caressing your new exposed skin with the back of his fingers.
Using both his hands, he pulled the straps of your bra down, giving him access to your naked shoulders. Carefully, he inched closer, giving slight pecks on your skin, moving from your shoulder to your neck, and down to the other shoulder. You shudder, feeling exposed.
You pulled him closer, grabbing the fabric of his tank tops, slipping your hands beneath them, wanting to touch his warm skin. He hissed, feeling the contact of your cold hand compared to the skin of his torso. You could feel the muscles move beneath the palm of your hand, caressing his abs and chest and back again. He got the message, pulling back from your embrace, he grabbed his shirts and took them off, leaving him topless in front of you, in all his glory.
“Like what you see?” he smirked, clearly seeing your wide eyes and open mouth.
You bit your lip, and nodded, a smile creeping its way on your face. He chuckled before attacking your chest again with his lips, sucking the skin on top of your breast between his lips, biting it. You arched your back, the feeling too intense, but not enough.
His hands slipped behind your back, undoing the back of your bra, letting it fall. The cold air hit your chest, your nipples hardening further. Thankfully, the man grasped one tit in each of his big hands, massaging them, keeping them warm, making you moan from the friction.
Not long after, he replaced one of his hands with his lips, sucking your nipple into his mouth. His mouth was warm, the feeling shooting right to your core. You needed him to be down there. You were growing desperate, all the teasing was becoming too much for you to handle. Every second he spent far from your core was torture.
You used your hands to pull his hair, pulling his lips away from your breasts, while also pushing his shoulder down, trying to signal him to go downwards.
He pulled back, smirking, looking up at you smiling like the devil, while you panted, looking at him through half lidded eyes.
He kissed down your stomach, reaching the waistband of your skirt. The man pulled your legs on top of his shoulders, giving him full access to your pussy. Pulling your skirt up, he came in contact with your wet panties. He pulled them to the side, watching the wetness spill into the table. He groaned, delighted by the sight.
He used his fingers to gather as much as he could, before putting them on his mouth and sucking. Closing his eyes he moaned at the taste.
He grabbed your panties, pulling them down your legs, before diving right in into your heat. He took your clit into his mouth, kissing it, sucking, making you see stars. He used his tongue, pushing it and pressing at it.
“Siirr,” you moaned, arching your back, you pushed yourself closer to his mouth, and pressed your head against the wall behind you. You used your hands to keep him there, pulling at his hair, pressing his mouth closer.
He groaned into you, the vibrations making you whimper. He moved downwards, his tongue entering you. His muscle moving with experience, hitting all the right places. Your legs began to shake, your muscles turning into jelly, the pressure on your lower belly becoming stronger and stronger, like a ticking bomb, about to explode.
The man continued to explore your insides, his nose brushing against your clit deliciously, making you grind against him, trying to reach your high.
He pulled back, out of breath, your juices covering his chin, mouth, and nose. He moved his thumb to press circles against your clit, keeping you in that spot, still stimulating you, but not enough to push you over the edge.
“Pleasee,” you begged, wanting him back in your heat.
“Shhh, darling, I got you”
He dived right in, replacing his thumb with his mouth and pushing one finger into your hole, stretching you out. You moaned at the feeling, the pressure on your belly rising. He didn’t give you time to adjust, pushing another finger in, and then another, moving them in and out of you at a fast speed, hitting all the right places.
“Sirr, I-” you began, but you were unable to continue when a moan interrupted you. Your vision became blurry and your legs began to shake. You came around his fingers and onto his mouth, your body aching into him.
You shut your eyes, trying to regain control of your breathing. Panting rapidly you didn’t realize the man had stood up, leaving your heat. Your chest was rising up and down still, but you managed to open your eyes slowly.
Before you, he stood, face covered in your juices, his hard on prominent on his jeans.
“Do you-” you swallowed, still trying to catch your breath. “Do you need help with that, handsome?” you smirked.
He mimicked your expression, walking again between your legs.
“If you are up for it, beba” he said, right in front of your mouth. So close you could almost touch his lips with your own.
You wrapped your legs around his waist again, caging him and your arms around his neck before moving forward and capturing his lips in yours. The taste of yourself on his tongue made you moan, the kiss growing hungrier by the second.
Your nails dug at his back, scratching it. You moved your hands forward, towards his chest, running your nails through his skin, feeling the muscles rippled with every movement. You reached the waistband of his jeans, undoing his belt and the button of his trousers, pulling the zipper down.
While one hand moved towards the back of his head, keeping him close to your mouth, the other went downwards, massaging his dick through his boxers. He groaned into your mouth, making you smile for a split second before biting his bottom lip and pulling it. You moved towards his neck, sucking at it, while your hand wandered into his briefs, tugging at his cock, cupping his balls.
He threw his head back, groaning, giving you a good view of his Adam apple bobbing thanks to his hard swallowing. He grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand out of his pants, before pulling them down completely, letting his dick free, it hitting his lower stomach, once it came out of his boxers.
You stared at it, dumbfounded. His cock bigger than you had imagined, you didn’t know if you would be able to fit it in, but you needed it inside you.
He grabbed his dick, pumping it before putting it in contact with your pussy, spreading your lips with his tips, coating it with your juices. His precum was mixing with yours.
With one hand on the table beside you, he fell forwards, resting his head against yours. Both of you looked downwards, where your bodies were about to connect, watching him move his tip back and forth, and pressing it against your clit.
After teasing for a little more, he positioned himself in front of your hole.
“Are you ready?” He said, looking right into your eyes.
You look back and forth between his eyes, before nodding against him.
At your confirmation, he pushed his tip into your hole, the stretch being too much. You threw your head back, shutting your eyes. You bit your lip, trying not to let a sound out. The man latched at your neck, sucking at it, distracting you from the pain of his dick stretching your walls while entering you.
He grabbed your waist harshly, your walls pulsating and swallowing him in oh so heavenly. You grabbed his shoulders, trying to stay on this Earth, his dick making you see stars, and he wasn’t even all in.
He continued pushing, despite your whimpers and whines, knowing you could handle it. Once your hips were together, you let out a big breath, one you didn’t know you were holding. He lift himself up from your neck, being at eye level with you.
“Mmm, move.” you whined, opening your eyes slightly, looking at him.
He nodded, not being able to talk thanks to your tightness. He used both his hands to grab your waist to keep you in place. He pulled back, a small part of his dick leaving your pussy to be pushed back in again. He repeated the movement a couple of times before finding a steady rhythm.
The only sounds being heard in the room were the slapping of skin against skin and your heavy breathing. His hips grinding into yours, his balls hitting your ass rapidly. The man was pulling all his cock out before pulling it back in with force, hitting your sweet spot every time, making you moan uncontrollably. You scratched his back, trying to sit upright, his movements making you shake and bounce on the table.
Every now and then he would kiss your lips, before going down and kissing your neck and breasts, overstimulating you. His pace was becoming irregular. He was close, and so were you. He pecked your lips, before resting his forehead against yours, his breath hitting your face with every pant. His chest was rising up and down.
“Yes, right there” you moaned, brushing against his.
He groaned. “You-” he whimpered. “You like that?” he continued grinding his hips against yours.
“Yeah” you said, out of breath, nodding.
“Are you coming beba?”
“Mmm”
You shut your eyes, basking the feeling of him inside you, him around you. Just all of him. The pressure on your belly was about to snap again, only this time more intense than before. The man let go of your waist with one of his hands to rub circles on your clit. Your legs wrapped around his waist began to shake, becoming loose. You began to grind against him, chasing your high, your breasts brushing against his chest, your nails digging on his back, your moans getting caught by his kisses.
Just when you were about to come, the bell on top of the door rang and you heard the sound of low battery coming from your mp3.
Snapping your eyes open, you saw the Greek god of a man walking away from the store, after closing the door behind him, making the bell jingle.
You were in the same position as when he had entered; elbow resting on the counter, chin resting on the palm of your hand. Your mp3 had run out of battery, and all the events of this mystery man made you his, lost with it. The only reminder of that man was the wetness between your legs. A heat that you knew you wouldn’t be able to calm down when your shift was finished. Not even when you were under the covers, naked, imagining the man who just left your movie store.
HIII GUYSSS!!! I am so sorry for the unexpected hiatus. Honestly, I was soo sick, I could barely stand up from the bed to eat. Anyway, hope you like this!! It is my first time writing smut, so it might be a little rough on the eyes, sorry there!!
Anyway, I based this on the song I linked above. I really encourage you to listen to it! It is in Spanish, but it is really good!!
I hope that after writing this I can sit down and write Chapter 2 of the Soulmate AU. I promise I will finish it, I won't leave you hanging. I will keep you posted about how it goes.
I hope you enjoyed this!!
Thank you @glaciertea for helping me!!
#oharaslove#miguel ohara x reader#miguel fanfic#miguel ohara#miguel o hara#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel o'hara x fem!reader#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara smut#miguel ohara fanfiction#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara smut#miguel ohara x y/n#atsv miguel#miguel spiderverse#miguel spiderman#miguel atsv#spiderman 2099#miguel x reader#miguel x you#miguel o’hara smut#miguel smut#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o’hara fanfiction
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I'll bring you the details:
Veteran vigilante, middle-aged woman.
Pregnant with large twins.
Fit and has a great figure. (That's inevitable)
A overdue pregnang belly but not oversized.
Birth denial and pushing baby back in.
Ending with a clothed birth in latex.
Water breaks while fighting.
"Evil wouldn't fight itself" is what the overdue Force-Push was saying to herself as she prepared herself for another night of crime fighting as she removed her skirt and civilian clothes and took out her latex suit.
Emilia Olway now 48 years of age and 9 months pregnant with her ex-husband's baby (she hoped singular at least) had been using her kinetic powers to fight crime for almost 30 years at this point, but these last few months had been the hardest with her aching belly and milky breasts slowing her down.
Kids were never part of the plan but she also realised that this was her last chance to have kids of her own and so decided to not end the pregnancy even if it would get in the way of her crime fighting.
As she slowly put on her black and purple Force-Push suit she felt a sharp pain in her massive belly "ooof you better stay put until sunrise little one" Emilia said to herself, it wasn't the first of the day, as her suit wrapped around her gravid but still toned body, her hands went to tie her red graying hair back before her masked cowl covered her face: it was time for the action.
Force-push had been tracking down the dirty business of a dangerous local gang, and if her information was correct tonight was the night. As she jumped from rooftop to rooftop her belly kept aching more and more but she kept ignoring it, she wouldn't let it get in the way.
As she followed the gangster's cars the pressure inside her belly kept growing uncomfortably. When the cars stopped near an abandoned warehouse she tried to sneak behind them before a contraction caught her off guard "hnnnng" luckily for her they didn't hear the groan, unluckily for her they did hear her water break immediately after.
As the criminals turned around they exclaimed "oh fuck it's Force-Push" and immediately pointed their weapons before being blasted away by the involuntary kinetic energy that her contracting belly started emitting without her waters to absorb it anymore.
The criminals were either knocked out or running away as Force-Push felt her baby's head press against her cervix "mmmmnnn no I have to keep going" she said before sending the police the address. As the still conscious gangsters ran away she began chasing them, unfortunately the continuous kinetic blasts of her contractions kept slowing her down.
"hmmmaaa haaa you're a real problem" she said to her soon to be born baby while she knelt to rest, then an ingenious idea struck her.
As the gangsters kept running they suddenly heard a gust of wind as Force-Push landed in front of them, she had used her contractions to propel herself forward, and so out of desperation they decided to square up.
The first criminal lunged at her as she ducked under his arm before punching him in the chin, another contraction hit her pushing the gangster backwards but also pushing her baby against her lips causing them to bulge "haaa haaa" she groaned as her left hand went to her crotch to prevent the baby from coming out any further.
As a second gangster approached she had to fend him off with a kick unfortunately the awkward position caused the baby to begin spreading her lips behind her latex suit. "Hmmmaaa not now baby" Force-Push said as she brought the head back in.
The third one approached hoping to catch the heroine off guard as she pushed her baby back, but unfortunately for him a contraction hit the masked woman causing another kinetic wave to throw him back several meters while her baby kept forcing his way out.
"huuuuuaa mmmn fuck baby please wait" she said as her hand pressed firmly against her crotch, as she looked up she saw two of the criminals on the ground, she quickly darted her eyes around for the missing one before being interrupted by a strong punch to her gravid mound.
She doubled over in pain as the criminal gloated over her "not so tough now are you super mommy" he said mockingly as he readied his gun, unfortunately for him his attack caused the biggest contraction yet as the heroine pushed involuntarily from the extra pressure causing the baby's head to come out halfway.
The kinetic blast from her contraction was so strong that Force-Push and the criminal were propelled in opposite directions, thankfully because of her position she was able to land on all fours while the gangster was pushed against a wall and knocked out.
She was struggling to get up from her position as her baby made a visible and prominent bulge in her latex suit "please hnnng wait baby" she said as her hand went to push the baby back, but all she could manage was to bring him to a full crown again.
"Hnnng alright, any of you mmmn fuckers still wanna fight?" She said as she slowly waddled towards them with her legs wide apart, as ahe reached them she saw that most were knocked out and one was on the ground groaning.
She quickly tied them with zip ties as she contacted the police "commissioner this is Force-Push I mus-gnnnnnnaaah" a contraction hit her almost launching her away as she involuntarily pushed the baby's head out into her latex suit.
"Force-Push is everything alright?" The commissioner asked "huuu huuu yeah, I was able to stop the deal between the Runners and the Braxtoners, come to the warehouse on 6th street" she immediately hung up as her hand cupped the bulge her baby's head made in her suit.
"huu alright, while I wait for them I guess it's best that I let you out" Emilia went to unzip her suit when another contraction almost sent her flying as she pushed her baby out into her stretchy latex suit.
"Hooo hoo fuck ok ok" she said to herself as she slowly unzipped until the zipper stopped "shit don't get stuck now!!!" She kept trying to force it as she felt another contraction, while still painful there was no kinetic blast so she assumed it was just the placenta.
As she pulled on her zipper she felt it break off "God damnit" another contraction hit her and while there was no blast it felt a lot more painful "Hhhaaaa shit haa" she groaned as she pushed feeling a familiar weight on her pussy lips "oh please no!"
Emilia squatted as she got ready to push her second baby out as she heard the first one cry in her suit "I guess you hmm don't have powers like your sibling" a powerful contraction hit her causing her to give a big push "mmmnnnaaaahh" she yelled as her lips started opening up again with a much more potent burn.
"I-I need to get it off hnng" she reached for the already opened part and pulled her suit apart, not caring about destroying her suit or her modesty, she just needed to get this baby out. As she ripped it off her milky breasts jiggled and her round belly was clearly hard as a rock as another contraction hit her.
With the remains of her suit now stuck at mid thighs she quickly grabbed her firstborn and started nursing him as she pushed "HNNNNNNGGAAAAAHH IT BUUURNS" she shrieked as the larger baby quickly crowned, her free hand on her bruised lips.
Emilia sobbed and groaned as she gathered her strength for the next push, hoping to get the head out, as she panted she could hear the distant sound of sirens "F-finally hmm".
As the contraction came she pushed with all her strength "hoooooo hoooooooooaaaaaAAAAAH haaa haaa" the baby's head popped with a splash of fluids as her free hand went to cup the head while she kept holding her firstborn as it suckled on her overflowing breasts.
Emilia took this chance to rest before giving her final push, she took deep breaths as she heard the sirens getting closer until the screech of tires stopping nearby, followed by police officers quickly exiting their vehicles drowned them out.
As officers swarmed the area taking some of the various criminals the commissioner saw Emilia "Oh my god Force-Push are you alright??" He asked worriedly, she didn't answer as the final contraction finally hit her and she pushed with all her strength "hnnnnnnnnnnggggggggggggaaaaaaaah haaa haaa" she groaned and panted as the baby painfully slipped out of her into her free hand, she knelt down to admire her second child before turning towards the commissioner to say "I am now".
#birth kink#fpreg#public birth#birth fic#sorry this is ridiculously late#I started this before I took my big break#I honestly forgot about it for a while#but I decided to finally finish it#hope you enjoy
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Mrs Bridgerton
Mrs Bridgerton Masterpost
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU
Summary: Modern AU. Your ex-husband craves you in a way you had no idea about until one fateful call...
Warnings: 18+ smut, minors dni, explicit language and thoughts, dirty talk, sexting, sex tape, masturbation, pregnancy kink, smidge of breeding kink. Mentions of marriage, divorce, pregnancy, custody, parenting, heartbreak, emotions. Bit angsty maybe? Not sure.
Word Count: 4.3k
Authors Note: This is an anon request fill from January here. (tldr summary: ex-husband Benedict can't stop thinking about you) Nonny, I changed up a couple of details of your ask; the porn he watches is your old sex tapes from when you were married. Also, he doesn't call once he was spent; he accidentally calls very much in the act ;) I hope that is okay. Guys, I have no idea what this is; sorry. Thanks to @colettebronte for checking I haven't completely lost it and @eleanor-bradstreet for the gif used above. <3
“Mrs Bridgerton!.... Mrs Bridgerton!” A teacher calls out across the playing field as she jogs towards you. It takes you a few seconds to realise she is indeed addressing you. It's been a couple of years since you went by that name—almost a ghost from the past at this point.
“Ah, actually, it’s Ms y/l/n now,” you correct as she draws closer. “I’m, well, I’m divorced from Emilia’s dad,” you explain somewhat apologetically.
“Oh, I am so very sorry! I'm new here. I just asked her if her parents were here, and she pointed you out.”
“No, no, it’s okay. It's an entirely fair assumption to make,” you placate, shielding your eyes from the sun to catch Emilia's gaze and give her the thumbs up at the end of the grassy running track.
“Well, I just need one of you to sign this permission form for the trip to the Science Museum next week,” the teacher states, thrusting a clipboard towards you.
“Oh certainly, no problem,” you assure, taking the proffered pen and signing on the dotted line she indicates. You know how excited Emilia is about that upcoming trip, even though she insists on going to the museum with you or her father at least once every few months.
“Wonderful, thank you.”
You just nod as another teacher brings them all to the starting line with a blast from their whistle, and your focus shifts entirely to cheering on your five-year-old daughter in her first school race.
-----
He knows you haven't seen him, and he doubts even Emilia has clocked him, wearing a baseball cap pulled low as he is. He deliberately keeps a low profile when you arrive. He is here to see Emilia on her first sports day. Only that. Or so he keeps telling himself.
But then he sees you, and something in his stomach knots hard. It’s been more than two years, and still, every time, it floors him. A few months after your split, he took to using Eloise as the go-between for your shared custody arrangements and has never stopped. Since then, he has not seen you in person, too cowardly to face you. His biggest mistake was letting you go.
You met in your late twenties at a party hosted by mutual friends, and that night, he knew his life would never be the same. Something about the connection was instant and electric. He had the best sex of his life, right there in a spare room of a party. Both drunk and foolish, you didn't use protection. So it was only a few weeks into your burgeoning relationship when you found yourselves staring dumbfounded at a blue and white stick that would alter your lives forever. You married quietly two months later at the town hall, with just a few family members and close friends attending, neither of you wanting a big fuss. It was a big gamble in many ways, but you were both willing to try, crazily in love and filled with a youthful optimism that can be so blinding.
All was well until parenting a newborn drove you both to exhaustion and beyond. A wedge grew between you, even as your beautiful daughter developed into the best miniature version of both of you, with his beauty and your brains. You tried to make it work. But bickering about petty things and distancing became the only constant in your dynamic. Part of him had hoped Emilia would be enough glue to hold you together, but it was too much to pin on a small child. Just after her third birthday, he watched his world crumble as you tearfully packed up your possessions and took the light from his life with you.
And now. Now it's a regret that haunts him every day. Replaying the mistakes he made over and over, the ones that meant you slipped through his fingers. Too preoccupied with his career frustrations and plagued by chronic lack of sleep to realise the damage before it was irreparable. He knows now, too late, that with a little more effort and compromise, perhaps you would still be together as a family. He certainly never stopped loving and desiring you.
So when the teacher calls out Mrs Bridgerton, his heart almost stops beating and, to his shame, there is a stirring in his jeans. God, he wishes that was still your name, so much so there is a bitter taste in his mouth as he watches you correct the teacher in an endearingly accommodating way. A large part of him wants to leap up and grab you, lift you into his arms, beg that you use the name again. His name. But he doesn't; he just lingers in melancholic reverie, recalling with perfect clarity how it felt to push the white gold band shakily onto your left hand as you recited your vows.
Then with a sharp nearby whistle blow signifying the race start, his focus is pulled back to why he is here. His little wonder, the centre of his universe. Emilia Bridgerton. The most beautiful person on the planet.
“Go, Emilia!!” he shouts, transfixed as his little girl moves out ahead of the pack, unthinking of anything but supporting his baby girl.
-----
Your head cuts to the side, and you freeze. You would recognise that voice anywhere. And how many Emilia’s can there be in the race?
He's not looking at you; his whole focus is on the field, but you can't seem to look away. Not even to watch your precious daughter. You haven't seen your ex-husband in more than two years. Using his sister as a go-between just seems like the best way to deal with your residual guilt about leaving him. But now? One look and your insides feel like you are falling down a chasm, lungs suddenly too small for the breaths you need to take.
Time seems to slow like molasses as you observe him. He’s wearing a baseball cap, almost akin to a disguise, but you can see underneath it that profile that still makes your heart flutter. Too much, really, considering you are exes. But his beauty was never the problem; it was part of the reason you always stayed. Those soulful eyes would draw you back every time. Those eyes that now haunt you daily, the Bridgerton genes far too strong not to override all of yours. Emilia is the prettiest little female version of your ex-husband you could ever imagine, and it's both your greatest joy and your greatest pain point, living with a growing reminder of the person who still owns your heart regardless of how much you might wish otherwise.
Looking back now, leaving him was an impetuous decision made from a place of utter exhaustion, not able to see a way out of the treadmill your lives had become at that time. But pride stopped you from admitting perhaps you made a mistake, serving divorce papers before you could think too hard about it. He didn't contest and agreed to all of your terms of custody without a fight. You didn't ask for spousal support; you earned more from employment anyway, most of his income coming from his trust. You never loved him for the Bridgerton name or fortune; in fact, sometimes, it felt like you loved him in spite of it.
And now, one look at him, and you are breathless and in a complete emotional and, yes, physical quagmire. Your body yearning for him, your traitorous brain supplying image after tumbling image of intimacy, the likes of which you have never known before or since—warm bodies wrapped around each other in ecstasy, that velvet voice pleading with you to come with him, for him, always so eager. It makes your chest heave so hard you have to look away to regain composure, doing so just in time for the universe to seemingly return to normal speed, as you watch Emilia cross the line, victorious in her first-ever race.
You cannot help it; you leap up and cheer too. And she looks over, beaming and jumping up and down. Running towards you and throwing herself into your arms as you kneel with a huge grin.
“Mummy mummy mummy!!” she peals excitedly, her breath gusting hard into your ear. “I did it! I won!”
“I know; well done!” you exclaim, rocking her happily in your arms. “You did wonderfully!!!”
“Did I see Daddy?” she asks, craning over your shoulder. You tense and swivel yourself to follow her eye line, but where he was standing just moments ago, there is now just an empty patch of grass.
“Oh, I don't think so, my love; it was probably someone else’s daddy who looks similar,” you suggest, the lie feeling odd on your tongue, It's obvious he doesn't want to be seen, and a part of you is grateful to avoid an awkward meeting. Emilia is still scanning the crowd, unconvinced by your assertion. “How about an ice cream from the van over there?” you offer cheerily, wanting to distract her from looking too hard for him.
“Okay!” she chimes happily, squirrelling a warm little hand into yours and pulling you towards the pedestrian gate.
Out of the corner of your eye, you spy a navy blue Jaguar pulling out of the other gate and know without a doubt it was him.
-----
He couldn't do it. He thought he could, but he feels the weight of your stare and has to leave. The minute Emilia crosses the line, he gives a little victory punch and takes off. Not able to face you. So much of him wants to, but the gutless part of him apparently resides in his leg muscles. Before he knows it, he is in his car and pulling out onto the West London streets, not daring to look back. It's not his day to pick up Emilia; that's still two days away. He would not want you angry for overstepping the agreement you have in place.
As he pulls up at a traffic light, his phone pings a match on the dating app Anthony bullied him into downloading last week. The temptation to fling his phone right out the window is strong. The idea of being with someone else, especially after the tumult of seeing you today, just feels wrong.
The only person he has slept with since your divorce was the second biggest mistake of his life. Someone he met at a bar celebrating Colin’s last birthday after too many whiskeys. A close enough facsimile to you that, through the haze of alcohol, he let himself be seduced. The lizard part of his brain somehow convinced it was you, even as she rode him in a way that chafed. Nothing like the way you moved, positively undulated, on his cock. Regret clung to his skin, the fug of hangover already kicking in as he watched her wordlessly re-dress and leave almost immediately, never exchanging numbers. He never saw her again. The fact he called your name as he came was probably the majority of the problem.
The only thing that stops him from flinging the phone is all the history it contains. Pictures of Emilia growing up from a tiny infant to now. But also his text exchanges with you, that increasingly he finds himself scrolling back through on self-indulgent nights, back to when things were good, and you would send each other little notes of love interspersed with sexting that; even now, he can barely read without getting hard. Unable to resist, as he waits for the light to go green, a dozen or more quick thumb flicks upwards on the thread for your previous number, and he finds some of his guilty pleasures.
8 March, 3:25 pm
Y/N: You had better plough me over the kitchen table when you get home xoxox
4 April, 5:02 pm
BB: Tough work day, need you, babe
Y/N: How’s this, daddy?
Y/N: [photo of your naked glowing, slightly rounded pregnant body]
BB: Fucking helllllll, I am one lucky man
Y/N: Come home, fuck me, daddy
BB: You need to stop calling me that…
Y/N: Why? I am literally pregnant with your child.
BB: Yeah, and that’s why it's so wrong…
Y/N: Just get here, pls. I am so fucking wet….
He is pinch-zooming on the photo, head tilted, his tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth… when a car horn makes him jump, the phone slipping from his grip and falling onto his emergent hard-on.
The traffic light has turned green.
With an apologetic nod in the rearview mirror, he drives off, shaking his head, knowing it’s probably very wrong to be looking at pictures of you, his ex-wife, and wanting to fuck you so bad that his foot leans heavily on the accelerator. His blood pumping hard, already knowing he will be taking himself in hand the minute he gets to his place.
-----
Emilia is happily smushing the cone of her 99 ice cream in her little fist as you walk the few streets to your sister's place, where you left your car earlier. She has kindly agreed to let Emilia stay tonight and have a sleepover with her cousins.
Later, you have your first date since your divorce, and you’ll probably need the rest of the late afternoon to psych yourself up enough to go. You've already cried off so many matchmaking attempts that you had to say yes eventually, just to stop the incessant badgering from all angles. Strangely, this one is Eloise’s doing, and you are still slightly weirded out that your ex-husband’s sister is engineering your first date in more than seven years.
Waving goodbye a few minutes later, you slip into your car and sit for a few deep calming inhales, trying not to think of how much Benedict stole your breath earlier. Some part of you thinks maybe you just imagined him there, a fevered mirage, your subconscious telling you to cancel this stupid date idea and stay home with your two best friends, Ben and Jerry. But then Ameila seemed to think he was there too, and honestly, it feels like you don't know what to do about anything anymore.
-----
He wastes no time, flinging aside the cap, tossing his car keys onto the hallway table and sprinting upstairs to his bedroom, only pausing to insert his noise-cancelling earbuds and discard his clothing.
He is already leaking a little when he throws himself onto the bed and fists his cock with a groan. His other hand is hovering over the play button on the video he definitely knows he shouldn't be watching, hidden in a nondescript folder.
Your soft giggle tickles his eardrums as the video jolts to life. It's one he shot of you on his phone on your honeymoon—it’s one of his favourites lately.
“Bennnnn,” your voice a teasing murmur as the screen fills with a glimpse of your breasts, his hand trying to take a sweeping shot of your body as you writhe underneath him, both of you buried in a soft glow under a tent of sheets wrapped around your bodies.
His own younger self chuckles loud in his ears, behind the camera as he is, both of your breaths loud as the movement becomes more pronounced.
This is him fucking you and filming it. The camera pans down, and there, almost too tough to see in the grainy low light, is his cock surging into you; the shot is never still enough to see in full detail.
Somehow the lack of clarity makes it more of a turn-on. Benedict whines low as his hand moves in a firm motion, jerking hard, losing himself in reminiscence of what it is like to be buried inside you, your scent, younger you panting hard, pleading quietly for him.
His hand speeds up, and he gasps as the video grows more urgent, the noises so loud right in his ear. He can hear the delicious sound of your wet cunt around his shaft, and it's like a sense memory, that viscous heated cling he can never forget.
“Ben, oh god Ben, you are so good, fuck me harder,” younger you moans loudly on the video, and both Benedicts, the old and new, couldn't resist that siren call.
“Y/n, oh god, give me your all, y/n,” Benedict growls, screwing his eyes shut, just relying on the auditory experience of the video now.
But not realising with his slurred speech; it's just given his phone a command…
-----
You are driving towards your place when your hands-free car display lights up with the last name you expect.
Benedict.
Your stomach plunges. Just like earlier when you found yourself staring at him and reimagining so many things you know you shouldn't. You reach over and click the little green button to connect the call, heart in your mouth.
“Ben?” you say his name softly, almost timid. Worried about what it might mean after that strange non-encounter less than an hour ago.
The noise that greets you makes every hair stand on end. It's a throaty groan. He seems to hiss your name, and all you do is frown as your car speakers vibrate with the sound.
“Ben, are you okay?” you check.
“Oh god, I am more than okay, baby,” he growls, and every inch of your body is rioting. “Just please, please don't stop, fuck you feel so good. So tight and hot. I want to live inside you,” the words panted, desperate.
Your foot slips hard on the pedal, and you almost crash into a damn tree.
-----
Your voice sounds different in his ear, and there is a background hum that wasn't there before, but he is so close to something so intoxicating he doesn't think to open his eyes and check the video.
“Talk to me,” he pleads low, knowing you on the video won't respond but somehow still wanting to talk to you regardless, “tell me how you feel.”
There is silence and then a slight shaky exhale.
“Ben.”
“Yes, yes, yes, say my name,” he pleads, leaking over his own knuckle as his hand becomes a frenzy on his cock.
-----
You pull over, quaking. There is only one reason he uses that tone. That's his bedroom voice, and fuck if it doesn't make you as weak now as it did back then. You can only assume his phone has accidentally dialled you while he is what? Masturbating? You flush so hotly at the very thought, and yet you can’t school what you say next. Your treacherous libido taking command of your lips.
“Are you touching yourself for me, Ben?” you breathe, and your clothing suddenly feels too tight, too hot.
Your speakers vibrate your seat as he groans loud and lewdly, and it's a beeline straight for your clit, now throbbing insistently against your car seat.
“Yes baby,” he moans and now, in the background, you can hear it, a slight slapping sound, his cock passing through his fist.
Your pussy clenches instinctually, and you feel a heavy pull, a depth charge of lust. Your lips tingle with the thought of kissing him, running your mouth over his body, wrapping around that cock you remember so well.
“I want you to come for me, Ben,” you plead, a hand straying down between your thighs, scarcely believing what is happening, what you are doing so brazen, parked up on the street mid-afternoon on a Wednesday.
“I will; oh god, I'm going to come so hard,” he snarls. “Do you want it inside you?”
Your fingers glance your clit over your yoga pants, and the heat is overwhelming. “Yes, Ben,” you pant, “inside me, give it to me, give me more of your beautiful babies.”
What you are saying is taboo. And so truthful you don't think to censor it. You would bear as many children as he wants to fuck into you. Still, even now.
“But you are already pregnant with my baby darling,” his voice taking on a softer edge, more wistful, “and you look so, so beautiful.”
You freeze.
“Benedict?” you say quietly.
“Yes, my love,” he purrs.
“Who do you think you are speaking to?” your ask is awkward, screwing your eyes shut, your hand moving away from the apex of your thighs. Suddenly mortified, perhaps it's not you that he thinks he is speaking to after all. Oh shit, did he get someone else pregnant? The panicked bile rises until he sighs the following words.
“Y/n, my wife, my life. God, I miss you so much. I know this must be a fever dream; I know we didn't talk like this in the video, but fuck if it doesn't sound so real,” he ends so wistfully.
“What video?” your question is slow, a weird weight on your chest that is your heart pounding out of control.
“Our honeymoon, darling,” he moans, and you can hear he is still masturbating, although slower-paced now. “When you let me video us fucking. I watch it so much these days that I'm surprised it's not worn out. And yet I can't not; every time I fuck my fist, it's to you.”
“You watch us? Every time you…?” your hand clutching your chest now.
“Yes, my love. I miss you so so much. I should never have let you go. You are my angel, the love of my life, the mother of my child and the only person I ever, ever want to fuck.”
The confession knocks your whole world off its axis. And you crave him. The feeling is so utterly all-consuming you struggle to take your next breath. You have to go to him. You have to see him. It's not even a choice not to. Every fibre of your being needs him.
“Ben,” you murmur, “don't come for me yet; I want to fuck you.”
“You do?” the hope in that gasp makes you lightheaded.
“Yes,” you breathe, “I miss your cock so much.”
You scramble to throw the car into gear and pull out into traffic. You are about a minute's drive away or less if he is home. Something in your movements so very urgent.
“Tell me what you are doing,” you whisper, trying your best to pitch the ask just the right level of seductive as you race down the road, turning into his street.
“I’m fucking my fist,” he moans, “but I wish it were you, my love.”
“I'm almost there,” you pant, pulling into his driveway with almost a squeal of tyres. You grab your phone and jump out of your car, crushing the handset to your ear as you run up to his front door and punch in a code, hoping it's still the one he uses. The crest of victory is palpable as the lock beeps and relents, the door popping open.
“Keep stroking yourself gently,” you order as you close the door and start to disrobe as you bound up the stairs.
“Y/n…” his voice is suddenly tremulant “this…. This isn't a dream, is it?”
“No, Ben, it's not,” you breathe, and you are down to your underwear as you skid into his bedroom, panting.
His eyes are wide with shock as you stride across the room, his cock still in hand and utterly naked; he looks just as delicious as the day you married him.
“Hello, Mr Bridgerton,” you purr.
“Y/n,” he stutters, and it's everything—surprise, desire, hope, relief, yearning and ardent.
“Call me Mrs Bridgerton,” you shoot back, and the responding noise he makes is so utterly feral you almost orgasm without so much as touching him.
-----
Eight months later
“Emilia, not there,” Benedict chuckles good-naturedly.
“Then where daddy?” her pout turns epic as she hands the offending item to him. “You do it!” she huffs.
“Okay, hold still,” he laughs and slides the small tiara into her hair. “See? Just perfect,” he opines, dropping a kiss onto her chestnut tresses.
“I look like a princess!” Emilia exclaims proudly, twisting to look into the mirror.
“Yes, you do,” Benedict concurs. “A pretty princess bridesmaid.”
“The prettiest,” you agree from the doorway, and both heads turn around and greet you with mouths that gape open.
“Oh, Mummy, you look like a real princess!” Emilia gasps, running towards you and giving you a quick hug before skipping out of the room gleefully as her grandmother Violet calls her name from downstairs.
“You look breathtaking,” his tone full of wonderment as he slowly gets to his feet, his eyes never leaving you. “But isn't it bad luck for me to see you like this?” he adds with a flash of concern.
You move towards him, and him towards you, drawn together. “I think we’ve had all the bad luck we are going to have,” you smirk, very much enjoying the sight of him in a sharp, custom-tailored suit. “At least I hope so, seeing as we have this thing to deal with,” you raise an eyebrow, pointing to your five-month bump.
“Thing? Darling, I thought we agreed; his name is Henry,” he sighs in mock indignation, his large hands skating around the swell of your belly, his lips warm on your temple.
“When did I agree to that name?” you frown amiably.
“Last night,” he responds silkily, right into your ear now.
“Oh no, you can’t possibly hold me to that,” you decry. “Anything said when inside me is null and void, Mr Bridgerton; you know I can barely remember my own name at that point.”
His rich chuckle vibrates against your whole body. “Well, let me remind you….”
“I’m listening,” you sigh, eyes closing as you sway into his hot neck kisses.
“It's Mrs Bridgerton,” he rumbles. “Or it will be again in about an hour.”
“I can't wait”, you whisper. “Say it again.”
“Mrs Bridgerton,” A dark, slow tease.
You are almost late for your own (second) wedding just downstairs.
Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus
#benedict bridgerton fanfiction#benedict bridgerton smut#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton x female reader#benedict bridgerton x you#benedict bridgerton x y/n#benedict bridgerton imagine#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton#bridgerton smut#bridgerton imagine#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton x female reader#benedict bridgerton angst#bridgerton angst#1k notes
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Could you write adrian chase x reader who is Emilia's sibbling and she is starting to realize that her sibbling has a massive crush on Vigilante and she does not approve that at all? Pleaseeee i love him 🥹🥹🥹 and maybe Vigilante really enjoy the reader's friendship, enough to put peacemaker as his 2nd best friend.
I hope you enjoy this short little blurb, especially since it's been a while since you requested it. Also since Tumblr keeps deleting this! But this is my first Adrian Chase x reader fic so I wanted it to be written well. At least, as well as I can write it.
Notes: GN reader with they/them pronouns. Reader’s race is up to interpretation as they are adopted and it’s mentioned once. Takes place post-series with no major spoilers. Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are appreciated!
Emilia was fuming when Chris arrived at the hospital and when he followed her gaze, he burst into laughter. You and Adrian were chatting away in the corner, the busboy animatedly waving his arms while you gave full bellied laughs in response.
Emilia had been at the Evergreen hospital for a week now and as her next of kin, you were on the first flight to take care of her. She would never admit it aloud but Emilia did look forward to seeing you again. It had been a few years since she had last seen you. But despite that, the two of you always had a good relationship. She had hoped this would be time for the two of you to catch up.
Then you had to meet Adrian.
The two of you had been working on a puzzle you bought at the local pharmacy and talking about the option of tracking down your birth parents when Adrian popped his head up behind a bush by Emilia’s window.
“Hey Harcourt!” Adrian said with a bright smile and a blue bandaid on his forehead.
Somehow that smile of his charmed you enough for her to finish the puzzle by herself. And Emilia didn’t even like puzzles. What was she supposed to do with a puzzle of hot air balloons when she was done?
“So like…” You bit your lips and batted your eyes while the two of you sat at the end of Emilia’s bed. “What other toys do you like playing with?”
“Oh well,” Adrian turned the knife on its side so you could look at it. Your face immediately fills with excitement when he places it in your hands. Not for the first time, Emilia felt uncomfortable and annoyed she was in the middle of the two’s shy yet lovestruck gazes. Chris seemed to share the sentiment as he was mock gagging beside her. Though it could have been due to him stealing and eating her hospital food.
“This knife is great for throwing, the holes on the side reduces the wind resistance.” You told Adrian animatedly, talking with your hands. Emilia recalled your knife throwing lessons as a kid.
Adrian lit up with joy just as Emilia groaned. “That’s why this is my favorite knife!”
Emilia thought if your guys’ mother knew you were taking your knife throwing lessons as an opportunity to flirt- especially with a guy like Adrian- knew she would be rolling in her grave.
You stared into his eyes and began leaning forward. Emilia wished she had something to throw at you. Luckily, a nurse knocked on the door to let them know visiting hours were wrapping up.
You hugged your sister and, glancing down at the finished puzzle, promised to bring another one tomorrow. You promised you would help her finish it, to which Emilia gave you an unconvinced look. Then you offered to bring her some non-hospital food (specifically some waffles and burgers) and she pulled you in for another hug.
“You know,” Adrian says as the two of you walk out the door. “If you’re still in town this weekend, I can set up some appliances in the woods we can throw grenades at.”
Emilia sat up at once. What?
“What do you mean by that?” She grabbed Chris’s shirt, ignoring the shooting pain in her leg.
“What does he mean by that? Adrian?” She called out. “Get back here!”
#adrian chase x reader#adrian chase imagine#adrian chase x you#vigilante imagine#vigilante x reader#Adrian chase x gn reader#peacemaker#peacemaker imagines#peacemaker imagine#peacemaker fanfic#fanfic#reader insert#reader imagine#my fic#mine#my writing
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sorority secrets- ellie williams (part 4)
pairing: college!ellie williams x fem!reader
summary: part 4 to this fic. you can find part 3 here.
warnings: [18+ MDNI] explicit language, mentions of alcohol, sexual themes, kissing, ✨tension✨
author’s note: part 4/5 !! have fun gays
“you really didn’t have to do that.” you spoke through a pained smile. “i did! and you have to go because i already told campus news that you are chad are a hot new item” she winked. a hot new item? “you did what?” ellie interjected, sitting up. “why-“ you closed your eyes and took in a breath, “-why would you do that?” you spoke calmly despite the irritation bubbling at your chest. emilia tutted like you were asking a stupid question “because i did some digging and turns out someone has famous sorority blood. daughter of an ex kappa upsilon sigma president dating the current kappa upsilon sigma president… that’s the news people really care about!” she explained. “… is it?” “yep!” she beamed.
~~~~~~
“campus fucking news” you said in disbelief. ellie snorted and held her hand above her eyes to shield the sun beaming down on her as she walked you to your class. “it’s not funny! look at the fucking text i just got from my dad” you handed her your phone.
“jesus” ellie handed your phone back to you. “yeah..” you mumbled. “he’s ‘proud that you’re respecting and upholding family values’… this is all because he thinks you’re dating a frat boy?” you scoffed, “when you put it like that it sounds insane. i think it’s because chad’s the kappa pres and kappa means a lot to my dad. he still gets involved with the fraternity even now. and my parents… they’re traditional. and they have these ideals of me being exactly like them. and they think it’ll get me to where i want to be.” “in a dull marriage where you have 4 kids and 0 orgasms?” you hit her lightly “i’m serious!” she hugged your side into hers and kissed your forehead “i know. i’m sorry angel. that’s a lot of pressure and it must be tough on you.” “what am i gonna do about tonight?” you huffed. she looked at you, “you’re gonna go.” you blinked up at her. “and you’re gonna humour emilia and the others until we figure out how to get you out of this little situation.” you nodded your head a few times, then a small smile appeared as you looked up at her “you not gonna be too jealous watching me on a date with someone else?” you teased. she poked her tongue at her cheek lightly and a little smirk played against her lips “why would i be jealous when he’s not a threat?”. you raised your eyebrows “such confidence, williams.” “well, am i wrong?” she tilted her head towards you and you shook your head with a laugh.
~~~~~~~
warm sticky heat pawed at your skin as you weaved your way through a crowded tipsy bison to reach the bar. you stood waiting to catch a bartenders eye when a hand you knew wasn’t ellie’s was placed on your lower back. “i’ll get the drinks” chad spoke.
despite how much you wanted to be away from this bar and this date, chad wasn’t… awful. sure he’s talked about himself a lot, and yes he’s gone through his camera roll and shown you highlight clips of his football games but he wasn’t the worst frat guy you’d ever come across. he was respectful at least and did seem to have a genuine interest in getting to know you. you nearly felt bad that he was on a date with someone who has absolutely no interest in him. nearly. he placed your two drinks on the little table for two that was conveniently in perfect viewing distance from the booth where your friends sat. you did a little scan; brittney was talking to one of chad’s friends, emilia seemed to be rejecting a kappa guy, madison was ranting to chloe, ellie was… sitting, her back against the booth, manspreading slightly with one hand against the back of the seat, the other holding her drink and she was staring right at you. you adjusted in your seat slightly and let your eyes run over her. she winked half-jokingly and a giggle escaped your throat. “don’t you think?” your brain suddenly processed the background noise you’d been hearing was a question directed at you. you turned your head to chad suddenly. “oh um… yeah.” he nodded thoughtfully and smiled “i knew you’d agree,” he reached his hand out and placed it on top of yours. oh god. “you know… you’re even cuter than emilia said you were.” you lifted your mouth in a hopefully not-too-obvious fake smile. “and you’re like, super smart and shit” you looked down to avoid his intense gaze and his hand reached out to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. you tried not to visibly cringe and instead looked up and change the subject “so tell me about that soccer game again”. he smiled, one eyebrow lifted in confusion “football.” “yeah, that.” he took in a breath and began rambling again about his sporting achievements.
ellie had never really considered herself a jealous person. that was until she was being forced to watch some douche put his stupid hands on your and touch your hair and get to put his dumb frat boy face near yours. the fact that she was having to sit metres away and pretend to everyone else she was rooting for this fake date was adding to the bitterness creeping through her body. she pictured herself striding over there, knocking chad off his chair and carrying you bridal-style out of the bar, knight in shining armour rescuing her princess. watching him lean forward to speak into your ear was her last straw, she couldn’t stride over to rescue you but she also couldn’t sit here and watch chad get to act like she did with you all because of some stupid lie at a party.
you stared blankly at chad as he rambled, practically spaced out and nodding at appropriate times. out of the corner of your eye you spotted ellie getting up and walking towards the restroom and a spark of excitement went through you at finally getting an opportunity to talk to her tonight. you looked back at chad “oh my god no way that’s so funny hahaha imgonnausetherestroomillbebackinabit” you blurted out as you were standing up from your seat, desperate to escape before he could stop you. you headed straight for the restroom, praying all of the girls were too engaged in their conversations to follow you. you swung the door open and were met with an empty room minus ellie who’s arms were stretched out to lean against a sink. her head turned to you as you walked in, door closing behind you and she smirked, “what is it with you always following me into toilets?”
you smiled at her “maybe i just needed to use the restroom.” she stepped towards you, “oh? so you didn’t come running in here so you could abandon your date and get me alone for a few minutes?” you looked away playfully “i don’t know what you’re talking about.” she reached you and placed her arms around your waist. “i don’t blame you. he seems like a boring motherfucker.” you gasped in faux shock “are you… jealous?” ellie rolled her eyes dramatically “yeah i’m crazy jealous,” voice dripping with sarcasm, “he’s out there sipping on his drink waiting for you,” her hands travelled to your lower back, “and i’ve got you in here, pressed up against me” her hands dropped down to squeeze your ass and the action made you fall into her closer. ellie’s words came out casually but her possessive actions were exposing her jealousy which made you want to reel that part out of her even more. “you know, he’s actually quite interesting.” ellie pulled her body from yours by an inch and looked at you. “he’s pretty funny too.”
ellie took her hands from you and placed one on her hip “‘mh. it’s just weird ‘cause i didn’t see you laughing much.” you looked up. “weird. i definitely was.” ellie crossed her arms. “you’re trying to make me jealous.” she told you. “‘m not. was just sayin’ he’s not that bad.” ellie chuckled and grabbed your hands to pull you back into her, face close to yours. “that’s cute. if you wanted me to get all possessive, you could’ve just said.” her tone slightly darker. you chewed on your lip, any response lost before it even reached you. she tilted her head to the side, “hm?”. a barely audible mm left your throat and she laughed. “don’t get all shy on me now, you were trying to rile me up a second ago.” she rested a hand on the back of your neck, thumb stroking your cheek and she brought her mouth inches close to yours “you want a kiss?”. you nodded enthusiastically “mhm”. she was dragging her other hand up and down your side, tickling the bare skin of your upper leg just before your skirt stopped. “then tell me what you really think about chad,” she spoke lowly, “who you’d rather be out with.” you sighed, “you already know. just kiss me.” “i want you to say it”. you huffed, “he’s boring. and not funny. or interesting. and i wish i was out with you instead.” she tutted in sympathy, near-mocking pout present. “me too, sweet girl.” she lowered her mouth to yours and kissed you. you released a little sigh of relief into her mouth. you were all-consumed by ellie; her body pressed to yours, her scent making your mind fuzzy, the taste of her earlier drinks on your tongue and head swarming with ellie ellie ellie. your body swelled with the urge to drag her into a toilet stall and-
the restroom door swung open and you ripped away from each other just in time to hide your activity, though probably not enough to hide your flustered appearance. three girls you didn’t know stumbled into the room and claimed the sinks. you looked at ellie and she looked at you. tension still high but now with no outlet. she slowly backed out of the bathroom and walked back to her booth. you debated following her for a second but you looked over and saw chad, head in his hands drumming his fingers on his beer bottle and you begrudgingly decided to go back over there before your friends pestered you about not trying hard enough on your date. you made your way over to him but before you got there brittney stopped you. “we’re going outside to vape. come with?” she spoke flatly, her question more of a demand. who knew brittney would be your saviour? you followed all of the girls, including ellie outside of the bar. the night’s harsh air was a welcomed by your overheated body. just as ellie made her way to you emilia approached you.
“having fun?” her tone hopeful. “sure!” you smiled. “he really likes you, i can tell. and you clearly like him. you guys should go exclusive!”. you scoffed, “i don’t know about that”. you noticed brittney was frowning at emilia from a distance, manicured fingers holding onto her blueberry ice elf bar. she pulled emilia over to stand with her which left you alone with ellie. “hi” you spoke and tapped her leg with your foot. she laughed “hi pretty” voice out earshot of the others. “um.. here’s an alley by the side of the bar. you think they’d notice?” you asked. she blinked at you with raised eyebrows, voice full of pretend shock “did you just invite me into a dark alley?” you furrowed your brows with a pout barely hiding your smile “not like that, perv. i meant so we could talk more privately.” “oh talking, i see” she laughed. she did a quick scan and grabbed your hand “c’mon”. she lead you to the side of the bar, away from the eyes of anyone except people passing by on the street. you leaned against the brick wall and ellie stood in front of you.
“it seems like you’re always sneaking me off to hidden places” she said lightheartedly. “well id prefer not to have to sneak away to be able to kiss you but we’re in a bit of a situation.” ellie raised an eyebrow playfully, “and who’s fault is that?” she teased. “hey, i had my reasons.” you defended yourself. “yeah, you were so scared of being in love with me you had a make up a fake crush and he happened to actually exist.”, she laughed. you kicked her with little force “i was not in love with you. i met you a few days before then!” she was still laughing, “and yet i made such an impact you felt the need to deny your real feelings for me”. you crossed your arms, “you’re such an asshole” “hey i’m kidding. i had to pretend to myself that i hated you after that night so i wouldn’t cry” you burst out into affectionate laughter “els”. she smiled and wrapped her hands around your back to bring your body into hers to kiss you. it was sweet and gentle, and yet it still made your stomach flip. against all her body’s instincts she pulled away and took your hand, “let’s not have them wander round here and catch us kissing on your date with dreamy chad”. you giggled and let her lead you back to the bar.
~~~~~~~~~
the drinks ellie used to entertain herself last night while she couldn’t be with you were making themselves known as she woke with a fuzzy head, and the loud banging on her door was not helping. she checked her phone for the time and saw 3 missed calls from you and forced herself out of bed to open her door. you walked past her and threw yourself down onto her bed.
“have you seen it?”. she looked at you for a few moments, “seen what?” you huffed and shoved your phone into her hand. a campus news feature. taking up the screen was a photo of you and ellie kissing. it was dark, zoomed in and kind of blurry like it had been taken from a distance, and anyone who saw the photo wouldn’t be able to make out where you were but you knew it was from last night in the alley. ironically where you’d kissed for about 3 seconds max. under the photo was some writing, ‘chad’s new girl kisses random girl behind his back???’ ellie looked back up at you, “oh god”. you took your phone back and shoved it in your pocket. ellie frowned, “who the hell would ta-“ “we’re going to eta” you interrupted. you practically marched down to the eta house, ellie behind you trying to catch up with your fast pace. when you arrived, emilia, madison, chloe and katie were having breakfast in the dining room. as you stood at the head of the dining table, hands on your hips you realised you hadn’t planned what to say at all. you weren’t even sure what you marched down here to do. accuse someone? defend yourself? maybe they hadn’t even seen it.
“who runs campus news?” spluttered from your mouth. madison looked up at you, “i don’t know. but people can submit whatever they want and most of the time it’ll get published.” the harsh sound of a chair scraping against the floor reached your ears and suddenly emilia was walking towards you “you guys. we saw that feature,” she hugged you both individually. “how awful. and poor chad, he’s already text me asking what’s going on.” selfishly or not, chad’s feeling were at the bottom of your list of problems right now. “so are you two like.. a thing?” katie spoke. emilia spoke up, “no she likes chad! it was just one kiss right? maybe you should go over and talk to him. he’d probably forgive you if you explained it was just a silly mistake. don’t let a great guy like him get away.” you stared at her, failing to hide the confusion on your face. ellie stood beside you chewing on her lip. there were a few seconds of silence. “how do two girls have se-“ “katie.” madison cut her off. this conversation was proving to be even less helpful than you’d predicted. “listen- where can i get in contact with campus news to get the photo taken down?” you spoke calmly, only ellie noticing the frustration peaking through your tone. “you could try calling the number on the website?” chloe offered. “thank you.” you grabbed ellie’s hand and swiftly left the eta house.
back at ellie’s dorm you scrolled through campus news looking for some sort of contact number. ellie sat beside you in silence, a little intimidated by your frantic energy. “babe.” she tried. “mh” you replied, eyes still glued to your phone and fingers scrolling rapidly. “it’s gonna be fine.” she assured you. “‘s not. unless i get it removed from campus news quickly before my parents see it.” ellie took a deep breath, “don’t you think.. in a way it might be for the best?”. you looked up from your phone at her, irritation clear on your features. “how would this be for the best?” she leaned back, resting against the arm being held up by the bed “well you wanted to get out of the chad situation.” “yeah not like this!” you shuffled back a little, frustration building. “not with me?” ellie accused. you rolled your eyes “that’s not what i meant. i don’t want to have to explain this to my parents.” “what’s so awful about your parents finding out? you were gonna have to tell them you’re not dating chad at some point.” ellie said, letting her own frustration show. you picked your phone back up and huffed in anger, not wanting to have to justify why you wanted the feature taken down. “or were you?” ellie spoke. you looked at her again “what?” “were you ever even going to tell them? or am i just some college experiment for fun before you go off and actually start dating a real chad so you can live the life your parents want you to live?” bitterness and hurt ran through ellie’s words. “don’t be like that, ellie.” “well?” ellie waited. she wasn’t sure what for. maybe for you to reassure her, kiss her and tell her she’s being ridiculous and that obviously that wasn’t going to happen.
“i’m gonna go.” you stood up and left her dorm without another word.
part 5
a/n: this is my dramatic tv show outro: dun dun dunnnn! will ellie and reader make up? 😿who took the photo?🫢 and why?😳 find out soon on sorority secrets ! (a cinnnamongrl production) ;)
tag list @ximtiredx @gold-dustwomxn @nil-eena @alexpritch @robinismywifee @sc0ttstre3ted @ilovemoneymorethenmen @amberlynn28 @eyeluvangel @amitycat sorry some blogs won’t tag :(( (might be bc of ur visibility settings)
happy to add people to the taglist but i can’t tag you if you don’t have your age in your bio!! my blog is 18+ !!
#ellie tlou 2#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams x you#ellie tlou#ellie williams smut#ellie x reader
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“It’s true”, Wille therefore said, voice devoid of any humor. “You were incredible tonight. Everyone inside that bar adored you.” “Me included”, Karim interjected before Simon had even had time to react. Wille had to fight the urge to press his eyes shut as he watched him put a single finger under Simon’s chin, using it to guide him into an unnecessarily drawn-out kiss. The slick sound of their lips disconnecting was probably gonna haunt Wille’s nightmares. “I meant to ask, by the way”, Karim turned to address Wille once he’d let go of Simon’s chin again only to sling a possessive arm around his shoulder, fingers coming to rest at the side of his neck. “How’s your whole dating situation going? Emilia, was it?” For a moment, Wille saw the glorious vision of his own fist colliding with Karim’s face. It’d have been effective at shutting him up, at least, and most of all, it’d have loosened that vice grip he had on Simon’s neck. But since Wille wasn’t actually a violent person - not since his early teenage days, and unfortunately so, given that headbutting Karim was looking extremely appealing right now - and he knew Simon wouldn’t appreciate any acts of violence in his living room, he dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand and arranged his mouth into a grim smile. “It’s going great”, he said, barely catching his voice before it could get high enough to crack through his fake enthusiasm. “We’ve been having an awesome time together.”
We are getting into the truly messy stuff (and yes, I know that's quite a claim for how messy they already have been throughout the last chapters). Hang on tight and remember I only ever write happy endings 😇
#yr fanfic#young royals#wilmon#young royals fanfic#wille x simon#simon x wille#never not you#pagegirlintraining
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❄︎ My Mami ❄︎
Alexia's favourite girls series
Isabella doesn't like sharing
It had been a relatively easy morning, Emilia didn’t put up too much of a fuss and Isabella had helped you all morning. You had called Alexia when you were on the road letting her know that everything was fine and allowing her to wish her daughter the best of luck and give her a little pep talk.
Isabella was disappointed at first when she found out Alexia wouldn’t be able to make the whole game but she calmed down when she was promised to go to Alexia’s next training and even maybe step in on a few drills.
After making sure you had absolutely everything and making Isabella recheck that she didn’t leave anything in the car, you were now settled on the side of the field with Emilia sitting on your lap happily. “Mama Issy running with the ball just like Mami.” You chuckled at her little babble, quietly cooing your praise as you to watched your wife’s twin race up and the down the field with the same sparkle that Alexia had at her age.
When Emilia got wiggly you let her roam a little, knowing that she couldn’t wander off and letting her burn some energy off would do you all some good in the long run. Isabella had assisted two goals already and it was just half time, she waved at you excitedly and you were filled with the same feeling of pride that you always got when you watched your wife.
Alexia had been so excited for the game that nothing in the world was going to stop her from seeing at least a little bit of it. The Captain was quick to say goodbye to her team with the promise of photos and videos of Isabella’s game. Luckily she had arrived just as the second half started. She took a moment to take in the life she had managed to create as she spotted Emilia stomping around the sandy part of the pitch and you were only a few feet away sitting on a blanket you brought.
The sound of the whistle pulled her out of her trance as the game commenced and she was quick to join her little family. You didn’t even flinch when a body threw itself down next you, knowing your wife would show up a soon as she possibly could. Emilia was absolutely thrilled at the sight of her mother and launched herself onto the footballers lap. Alexia grunted in surprise as she smiled happily at the sight of her blonde, giggly daughter. “Hola mi princesa.” The three year old squealed excitedly as fingers pressed against her side teasingly.
Alexia then turned to you, “Hola mi Reina.” You kissed her soundly as she gratefully reciprocated, arm sliding around your waist as she smiled softly at you. Emilia sat happily between her legs as she leaned back into her mothers strong body. You decided to follow suit as you put your weight on her.
It was only when you really looked at her did you realise she was still in her training kit. “Did you run here straight from training.” Alexia looked surprised at your question before huffing, “No, I drove here…straight from training.” Emilia was distracted with playing with her mother’s wedding ring and Isabella had yet to see Alexia arrive, so you took your opportunity. “This training kit always looked so good on you.” Alexia’s eyebrows rose immediately, catching the suggestive tone of your voice immediately, “Sí?” you bit your lip and nodded, rolling your eyes amusedly as her signature smirk made its appearance. “I have to do something about that, huh?” You nodded as her eyes stayed glued to your lips, “Why do you think I was trying to tire Emilia out.” Alexia kissed you softly as it took everything in her to control herself.
A football interrupted the two of you as you quickly separated, cheeks burning red as the referee giggled at the two of you. Isabella was bright red until she caught sight of her mother. Her eyes lit up and she shyly waved at the Captain. Alexia smiled softly at her eldest and gave her a wink which instilled a fire into her daughter who immediately scored a goal. Alexia was now on her feet, shouting words of encouragement and you saw the future of Alexia’s coaching career ahead of you.
Emilia was giggling and repeating the words that her Mami was saying until she shivered. You were quick to grab the jumper you brought for her and Ále cooed as she passed her onto you.
The final whistle sounded with your daughter scoring another two goals. Isabella ran straight for her mother who wasted no time in throwing her up and over her shoulder as she showered her in kisses and praises. Even though Isabella was seven and getting way too old to be picked up but it never stopped Alexia from ignoring that rule and doing it quite often. Isabella seemed settled in her arms as she retold Alexia all about the match that she just watched.
Isabella was on her feet again when her coach came over to talk to the Barcelona star. The kids from the other team were in awe of the fact they had ‘La Reina’ at their match. Your wife always had time for pictures which is what she was doing currently as Isabella wandered over to you to give you a big hug and a recap. “That’s my Mami!” Isabella grunted as she hid her face into your neck, much like your wife Isabella didn’t like sharing.
“Yes and you get to go home and cuddle her all night, they only get a picture.” You laughed softly as she whined gently, “My Mami.” You sometimes wonder whether your eldest is really seven or actually just four. Alexia started heading back to where you were sitting with your daughters, she caught your amused glance and immediately knew that something was wrong but it wasn’t anything serious.
“¿Todo bien?” She asked as she hauled Emilia up into her arms, the three year old after successfully tiring herself out as she drowsily blinked from where she was laying against her Mami’s strong shoulder. Isabella peeked out at her Mami before remembering her arm around the other girls and she hid herself again.
Alexia frowned but you sent her a reassuring look as you coaxed the brown haired girl from her hiding place, “Tell Mami what’s wrong.” You whispered as she groaned but turned to face your wife anyway, “My Mami.” Her forehead met with Alexia’s leg as she mumbled out the words, arms intertwining around her thigh.
Alexia chanced a glance at you and you just ran a hand through her hair. “Sí, I am your Mami. ¿Quién dijo que yo no era mi vida?” Isabella didn’t even lift her head just pointed to where the crowd of girls were taking pictures with Alexia a minute ago. “Ay Ya veo. Vamos, vamos a casa para que pueda abrazar con mis chicas favoritas sí.” Isabella nodded and kissed her Mami’s hand before taking it and walking back to the car.
You placed your hand on your wife’s back along with a kiss to her shoulder as you took Emilia and placed her in her car seat with a kiss to the cheek. “I’ll take Is.’ You agreed before giving your daughter a kiss on the cheek and a hug. “See you at home.” You smiled wrapping your arms around your wife’s neck and kissing her deeply as a reminder of your previous conversation. She chased your lips before remembering where you were and leaving one final one against your cheek.
Once she watched you drive off she looked into the mirror making eye contact with your daughter and flashing her a mischievous smile, “I think we’ve earned ourselves some McDonald’s.”
#alexia putellas#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas imagines#woso x reader#woso imagine#woso imagines#barcelona femeni#woso#Alexia's favourite girls
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me and the devil
words: 3564
introduction/part 1 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5
warnings/notes: charles leclerc x reader, friends to enemies to lovers?, mentions of alcohol, language;
inspired by: Soap&Skin - Me And The Devil, The Neighborhood - Afraid, The Academic - Why Can’t We Be Friends?, lovelytheband - i like the way, The Wombats - Turn , Wallows - Pleaser
masterlist
Fools, fools, fools again – both of you, and now both for the same reason: pretending works until the boiling point, and yours has been long reached but to be exploited still.
You avoided each other for the rest of the evening. Glances were exchanged. Time-consuming and penetrating ones. Charles’ eyes on you when he engaged in chit-chat at the bar while you were dancing and having fun with somebody else within the team or not, and yours on Charles when he will get approached by any of his fans (mostly girls, mostly pretty).
It has not always been exactly like this in between the two of you, except maybe for the unexpressed jealousy only through eyes but never through words. And yet, you two avoiding talking back in the days when you were not teammates nor on each other’s throats was out of the question.
As mentioned, you followed him everywhere and he made time (all the time) to watch over you before your F2 races and to congratulate you after any of your wins.
“You have to be smart.” Charles intoned as you were walking side-by-side on an empty Emilia Romagna circuit at the dusk of sun two days before what was the time and place of your first F2 driver championship catch, “You have the same car as anyone else, therefore you have to be smart about the way you use your tires here, especially when taking turns.” He added, vrooming through the apex as if he was a racing car and you were a mere spectator.
You laughed, back then what Leclerc managed to do to you was only laughter and not hard feelings. He caught your laugh and then warned you with a finger to cut the giggles and to pay attention to him and only him as he was explaining to you the best kind of a set-up you could use for the race.
You closed your mouth shut mimicking a closed zip, being the one to cause the laughter to Charles as he watched you tossing your imaginary key far away from the place you have now stopped.
“Understood?” He then inquired, watching you watch him back with whopping googly eyes and hope flickering in the irises of your eyes partly thinking about the win, mostly thinking about him and how attractive having him advising you was.
If you were to be in school and Charles Leclerc were to be your teacher – you would have been most definitely a teacher’s pet. The thought of that scenario made your blood boil, and the way you looked while picturing that made Charles’ spine shiver in pleasure while your body heated underneath his look.
“If you want to make a pass here, you have to be careful to—” He hesitated, heavily breathing in the process.
“What?” You stopped, watching Leclerc’s words being cut short as well as his steps slowing.
You slowed yours too, wondering what was going in the back of your mentor’s mind with a slight hope that your thoughts were the same. They indeed were, and oh how much anticipation was there for them the become real and not just fantasies hidden in the corners of your minds and extremities of your fingers.
“Nothing.” Charles anxiously gulped, his eyes being fixed anywhere else on the track but not on yours that were examining him attentively, “You just —“ He then stopped again, arms close to his chest almost as if he was frightened of the thought that you might see it lifting up in a sorrowful sigh, “You are looking at me like that again.” He explained, arms falling around him helplessly, fingers snapping his knuckles in nervousness.
You let out a giggle, pretending not to know what he was speaking about. When in all trueness, you knew even since then that looks played a major role into your relationship no matter the status of it.
“What are you talking about?” You asked, proceeding in walking away from him so that he will be the one to follow now — which he refused.
With a hold of your wrist, Charles’ fingers wrapped against your skin. Your eyes widened, there have been little to no chances of him daring to touch you. You looked down for a short while, and then up again meeting his gaze.
“I have a girlfriend, Y/N.” He then suddenly spoke, and your heart dropped into your stomach.
Charles had Charlotte at that time, and you knew for the better not to ask details about their relationships. You saw them in the paddock often, and each time you would say “hello” to them while passing by the two holding hands for the photographers to capture, you would have wished for nothing but the Earth to swallow you whole.
Retracting your wrist from Charles, you adjusted your voice with a short grunt, “I am aware of that.” You muttered before a short smile, “You have to question yourself why you had to reminder me that just now.” You added, stepping away from him while your chest was aching still by that mere touch of barely hands, “I was just listening to what you were saying and I—”
“Looked at me like you never do at any other driver, Y/N.” Charles dared to say with a shake of tone, the shakiness progressively getting softer as he spoke your name, “We need to keep this professional.” He continued, enforcing the truth for himself rather than for you just as mentioning his girlfriend before.
With a smirk crossing your lips, you teased even further as you replied, “You pay attention on how I look like at any other driver?” You inquired with a sly smile hid within the tone of your voice, “My plan is not to steal you from Charlotte, Charles.” You assured him, knowing that scooping through the man’s relationship was the last thing on your to-do list when it came to Charles, “My plan is to steal your knowledge, and one day to beat you at your own game on the track.” You proudly declared, managing to shake the uneasiness on Charles’ face for it to be replaced with the humbled proudness you were used back then.
“Oh,” He mouthed, “I would like to see you try.” Charles mocked in a sarcastic tone, “Just don’t be disappointed if that never happens, tough.” He then cockily continued, clapping both his hands together before you went back to the circuit’s tour and racing advice – both pretending that the talk outside the two never took place.
Fools, fools, fools – both of you. You, for teasing him that much during your mentorship era and him for accepting and playing along, toying not only with your emotions but his too. Two days ahead of your little evening escapade on the track, you won your first major championship and Charles’ arms were fast to grab you into a warm hug once you were on the way of getting back to your garage with the trophy tightly squeezed in between your hands.
“That was amazing, Y/N!” Charles shouted within your ears as your bodies entangled for a short yet intense while, “Taking the turns exactly how I told you they are supposed to be taken, amazing!”
You laughed as you two departed, “Taking all the credits, I see.” You joked with a huge smile spread on your face, “I think I did a great job at executing them.” You proudly spoke for a minute before your smile faded as you switched glare from Leclerc to Charlotte who was standing behind him.
Greeting her shortly with a shy “hello”, your hands fully departed from Charles’ forearms as you picked the trophy back from the ground where you first tossed it for the man to have a full access on you.
“Good luck on your race too.” You spoke, the enthusiasm in your voice slowly fading as well as Charlotte’s hand grabbed back Charles, both on their way to the Ferrari garage for Charles to get ready for what was coming that afternoon.
“Ah yes, yes, yes, thank you.” Charles still frenetic spoke looking at Charlotte before taking another one good look at you and your rosy cheeks, “Send me the details to your party for tonight! You must celebrate!” He added, patting your shoulder in passing as they were hurrying on their way.
You nodded yet said nothing. Of course, there was going to be a party, but would you risk it for him to show with Charlotte as he always had done in the past and ruin your winning mood just because she had something you so foolishly desired at the age of eighteen? No, the answer was no.
You had not texted Charles that evening, although every bone within your body wanted for your mentor to attend the celebrations. Selfish mood driven by an even selfish heart, one that Charles was very much aware of and yet one that he wanted to understand without having to lose in the process. And yet, as young as reckless as you both were – mistakes were made in the form of him showing up at your hotel’s door at midnight without Charlotte or anyone else knowing.
A knock into your door as you were ready to go to sleep startled you. Your scared steps carried your body at the door to slowly open it. Yes, you would have lied if you were not to admit that you wanted for the person behind it to be Charles.
Then, seeing him standing upright with a bottle of champagne in one hands and flowers in the other – your heart sunk even deeper, and you knew that him being this close to you and at that hour will not do go to neither of you.
“I waited.” Charles begun with the same type of shakiness into his tone as the one back at the track, “I know from Carlos that you had your party.” He added, eyes all over you as you almost hid behind the door, “Did I do something wrong?” Charles then pleaded, and you had to restrain all your urges to not invite him into the room.
You declined with a nod, “No, it is just that I –” You gulped, “It was just a small party with people from the Prema Racing team, and some of my non-racing friends.” You almost whispered with a smile, “No big F1 drivers were invited, no huge fuss nor cameras, no drinks nor dances, no fun actually – really.”
You lied stumbling at your own words, avoiding Charles’ look as much as humanely imaginable until your eyes laid on the man’s slowly trembling fingers. You made that; you made him shiver even when your intentions were not to do so.
Charles guzzled as well, “I understand then, yeah – sounds like a boring one.” He then laughed, handing you what was waiting into his hands, “I came here actually wanting to celebrate with you alone, but I think that –”
You nodded even before he stopped his words, taking the bottle and the flowers into your own hands, “I think it is a good idea too.” You added, for you to leave. There was no need for one of you to utter the words, as both of you were tragically thinking the same. “Thank you for stopping by, and thanks for the flowers.” You spoke, sniffing the scent of what were your only and favorite type of flowers that you perhaps mentioned once or twice during some of your interviews but never to him, never to any boy really. And yet, Charles knew – he had documented this moment, the very first time when he bought you flowers.
“Goodnight then.” Charles shyly verbalized, grabbing the back of his neck for you to not notice any further the trembles of his fingers, “You did a great job today, Y/N.” He then added with a soft short smile, “You will do just great in F1.” Charles continued, watching you giving him one last shy smile and a glimpse of your rosy cheeks in the dim lights of the hallway before closing your door once he turned to leave and go back into his hotel room, one in which Charlotte was most definitely soundingly sleeping.
You glued your back to the door once he left, the words “keep it professional” resounded in the back of your mind. With an aching chest, you placed the flowers in one of the random vases that the hotel room had to offer but not before noticing a hand-written note enveloped on the top of the bouquet.
You have one of the best talents I have ever witnessed in this sport and not only, do not waste it – and I cannot wait for us to fight together. I would like to see you try, younger and much ruthless me.
Charles was right back then with quite a few words; you were one of the most talented drivers he had ever seen – one of the most talented drivers everybody ever seen. And yes, you were the younger and much ruthless version of him. But now, oh – Charles Leclerc was not that keen on fighting with you together on the track exactly for those three reasons alone, and for the fact that you were on to get him and slow his process of being the best that there ever was on racing circuits.
The now two-times world champion was watching you leave your own party earlier than everyone else. You wanted some time for yourself the night after your scandalous win against him, therefore you took a car straight to the hotel to ease a little. You were not eighteen anymore, and you found yourself a little too much of an alcohol enthusiast now (although you were bad at holding your liquor).
With your head ponding too much after many of Norris’ gross shots, you quickly get rid of your cloths and showered before limping to the bed. You need to get a good night sleep before tomorrow arrived when you had to take an early flight back home – three weeks without Formula 1 were ahead, and you would have never thought that you wanted a break from it more than you did now during your most successful season so far. You were almost dreaming about time spend with your non-racing friends far away from all the craziness, when a knock into your door blasted you awake.
“What are you doing here?” You awed spoke once you wide opened it, expecting for the knock to come from one of the hotel’s employees or your manager who drove you back to the hotel.
And yet, there someone else stood – the one you opened your door two more than six years ago with nervousness, thrill, and anticipation, “Leclerc, it is past midnight for God’s sake. What are you doing here?” You intoned with the annoyance of repeating the same question after receiving no answers at first try while inviting him in without giving it a second thought as you made him room to pass by you.
Charles was without a girlfriend now, and the idea of you two being in the same room late at night seemed more bearable now knowing that you despised each other rather than being attracted to the other.
Fools, fools, fools again – both of you, and now both for the same reason: pretending works until the boiling point, and yours has been long reached but to be exploited still.
“I saw you leaving.” Charles added, giving you a quick glance from head to toes, “Cute PJs.” Your teammate mockingly spoke, leaning against the wall in front of you as you closed the door, “I told you we need to talk – I am not leaving until we talk.” He demanded as you looked down at your pink and white PJs sprinkled with smiley yet creepy faces that you drunkenly ordered online one time.
“I very much like my PJs, thank you.” You spoke, eyes up now watching Charles crossing his arms at his chest.
Fuck, the training in the past years did its job. You could not help yourself but notice his biceps through the white plain loose t-shirt and the way his clothes fitted on what was now a very sculpted body. And yet, you sighed to act uninterested and even more annoyed that you were by the fact that Charles showed up without letting you know ahead, “I told you that we have nothing to talk about.” You added, glare catching his now.
You were not the only one who pretended within the room, of course not. Charles has been looking at you for the entire night, and he has seen how your body moved close to guys that were not him – and he reminded himself of all the moments he shallowed his urges whole to touch you, to caress the back of your hand with his, to glue his body on top or under yours. Yes, the view he had upon you was very much different than the one he had when you were eighteen or in the years that followed since then and yet, the shivers were the same.
That was the main reason why Charles held his hands so closely gripped to his chest even now, for you to not notice his nervousness around you anymore and for him to tame the pleadings inside of his mind as much as he could. Your dominance over Charles was turning him on more than he had ever guessed, and no one made him feel like this before – that was the trick.
“You need to slow down.” Charles intoned, the words were again spoken more for him to hear rather than for you to listen – and it was very much not about racing anymore. Leclerc’s mind was all over the place, and it has been like that since he decided to knock at your door with no plan whatsoever but just to warn you about your next steps, “This will get quite ugly in the future if you keep acting like this.” He added, eyes never away from yours.
You nervously chuckled, mimicking’s Charles’ body pose now. Younger and much reckless me, “I’ve slowed down for you in the past two years, mate.” You intoned with a very much sarcastic tone, “Are you that scared?”
“Are you that fearless?” Charles added, two steps now made towards you with both arms clasped at his back, “You went through a lot to get your seat next to me – are you planning on losing that?” Leclerc threated with a cunning smile; head titled to the right in trying to intimidate you as inches of the hallway divided in between your bodies.
“You taught me that.” You argued, the slug into your threat toughening as you parted your back from the wall and faced Charles closer, “How to be fearless,” You counted slowly, “How to fight for my seat.” You added, your fingers going up Charles’ cheek just to feel the burning inside his untouched skin, being the one between the two of you to first dare touching the other risking for the walls of your caged unspoken tormenting urges to crack, “Are you really threating me now?” You wondered, watching’s Charles’ eyelids sliding shut as you placed your whole palm on his cheek and part of his neck.
Charles took you in – you and your scent, you and your touch and all that he had been craving even more fervently now than six years ago since the first knock at your door.
And yet, winning seemed to be more important.
“If needed, I will.” Leclerc spoke with his eyes still closed to let himself enjoy the moment of one of your hands on him – although he would have enjoyed for both on him and every single part of his body, “Just a warning for now Y/N, do not stand in my way.” Charles added, stepping back and thus privatizing you of touching his skin no longer.
“What happened to you, Charles?” You breathed slowly as you watched him stating back at you now with one hand on the lock of the door, “You used to be so sweet.” You spoke, eyes on the handle.
“Sweet does not get you championships, darling.”
“So, you do care.” You highlighted, how the others call me, “Sweet might not get you championship, but neither being a dick.” You harshly spoke, placing your hand above him on the handle to stop him from clicking it down, “Look, I get it –” You paused to tame whatever was going inside that aching chest of yours, “You changed, but so did I. You want to win, but so do I.” You enunciated while your fingers gripped his, “Let’s see who wins – fair and square. No games, no threats.”
Charles chuckled, “Does not sound like us.” He spoke, hand hardly pressing the handle down for him to leave, not bearing anymore for you to touch him like that, “What’s the fun in fairness when it comes to us?” Leclerc then added, retracting his hand from underneath yours now that the door has opened, “Goodnight then, see you after the break.” Your teammate spoke, and you have never heard him speaking in such a grave alerting tone before – see you after the break was not a greeting, you had to take it as what Charles was intended for that to be: a warning.
#i like how this part turned out#I hope you like it too#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x you#f1 x y/n#f1 fandom#f1 fiction#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#ferrari x y/n#ferrari x you#ferrari x reader
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Omg pleaseeeeee do max and very very drunk Emilia. I feel like she is a very funny, dramatic, uncoordinated, extremely uncooperative drunk Lolol
Andddd we’re back. Because that quali deeply upset me and I needed a bit of comfort. It’s just Max being an absolute cutie really. I hope you like it!!!!
✨Set in the summer of 2022✨
Your eyes are liquor, (your) body is gold
Max jolts awake to the sound of his phone buzzing. He’s purposely put it in the ashtray on his beside table so that it would make noise. You said when you’d headed out ride the night that you would get a cab home since Lando would be in no state to drive you, but Max wanted to keep his phone on just in case.
He looks down at the screen. 2:37 AM. It’s a text from Stan. Maybe you’re home already and he didn’t hear you come in.
As if by some metaphysical connection, his phone starts buzzing with a call. Lando’s face lights up the screen.
“Hello?” Max says when he picks up, surprises by how he still sounds asleep. No response comes, only the deafening beat of some pretty aggressive remix of some song he doesn’t like. “Lando?”
“Mate,” Lando shouts, though Max barely hear him. “Thank God. Come and get your girlfriend,”
“She’s not-“
“I don’t care,” the background music quiets down some, Max guesses Lando has made it to the bathroom. “She’s wasted and I’ve just met a Lithuanian gymnast,”
It must be the exhaustion from a full day of sim practice and three phone interviews, but Max’s brain cannot connect the dots in Lando’s sentence “What?” He asks through a yawn.
“Come and get your girlfriend so I can get laid. Now.”
******************************
Max is in the car in five minutes. In fifteen, he’s pulling into the nearest parking spot to the club he can find. His body is still heavy with sleep, not even the can of Red Bull he drank in the car has helped. He gets out and heads towards the door, craning his neck to look for either you or Lando among the hoards of smokers lingering outside.
You’re sitting on the edge of a potted plant outside the building. You’re wearing a gold mini dress covered in crystals, so you’re not exactly hard to notice. A thin sheen of sweat covers your exposed skin. Your hair is a mess. Illuminated by the light spilling from the building behind you, you’re glittering.
When you look up and see him, a tired smile spreads across your lips and you wave.
“Maxy!”
He waves back awkwardly. He can tell even from where he’s standing that you’re wasted by the way your eyes are unfocused and your head is lolling around on your neck. He’s glad he kept his phone on, he wouldn’t want you in a cab in this state.
Beside you is Lando, standing with a blonde bombshell of a woman so perfect looking she must have been designed by a very famous surgeon. Lando catches Max’s eye and winks just as he comes to a stop in front of you.
“Maxy,” this time it’s more of a sigh, a hand running through your hair as your shoulders slump. You look around with a frown. “What are you doing here? Were you here the whole time?” You wave your arm in the direction of the club but the effort seems to tire you.
“No,” Max says, smoothing your hair for you. “I was at home, and now I’m here to take you home,”
“I don’t want to go home,” you whine, crossing your arms over your chest. “I want to go to the beach,”
Max frowns in confusion, looking over at Lando for answer, who just shrugs. Max shakes his head and pulls you to your feet, hooking an arm around your waist to steady you.
“Thank you,” Lando says, rolling his eyes at you. He holds out his fist to Max.
“You,” Max says as he bumps Lando’s fist with his own, “are welcome,”
“Goodnight, my dear,” Lando says, leaning over to give you a sideways hug and a kiss to cheek.
“Tip her well,” you say to Lando, patting his chest as his eyes bulge.
Max coughs to hide his laugh. “Come on, let’s go before you mess something else up,” he says, bracketing you to his side as he begins to steer you towards the car.
“What did I mess up?” You ask, words slurring as you teeter on your heels, legs crossing with every step. “Did I mess up your evening?”
“No,” Max says, squeezing your waist. His night wasn’t ruined, just his sleep schedule.
“Were you like,” you lean closer to him, your voice dropping to a whisper, “masturbating?”
Max chokes on air. “No!” He rasps out, struggling to keep walking. He almost lets go of you out of sheer awkwardness before he remembers you likely need him to remain upright, especially if you’re talking like this.
“Just asking,” you say, and Max has to imagine your eye roll because he absolutely cannot look at you right now. “That’s what I do when you’re not home,”
Add this to the long list of things I did not want to know, Max thinks to himself. He thinks he might never be able to keep sane while out of the house now.
“Your showerhead has this amazing setting-“
Max is almost glad when you trip while stepping off the pavement as he leads you to the passenger side of the car because it makes you stop talking. He knows you prefer the showerhead in his en-suite, he’d been planning to get your bathroom redone so you could have the same one. Oh God. How would it look if he does that now after you’ve said that? How would it look if he doesn’t?
He resolves to never think about that comment ever again.
“Up you go,” he says, guiding you up into the car, one hand on your head in case you don’t duck. Your body flops into the seat and Max tucks your legs in for you. He finds himself a little annoyed with Lando for letting you get in this state.
He peels out of the parking and down the street, yawning as he drives. He watches out of the corner of his eye as you sink down in the seat and turn on the seat heater.
There’s a surprising amount of traffic on the road. But summer in the Petri dish that is Monaco is always too busy.
“Are we going to the beach?” You asks, sliding up to look out of the window.
“No,” Max scoffs at the idea.
“But I said I wanted to go to the beach,” you drawl, a pensive look on your face.
“It’s night time,” Max explains.
“Um,” you narrow your eyes at him like you’re doubting something. “Since when do you not do what I want?”
Max isn’t sure what to say to that. Sure, he can’t remember the last time he said no to something you wanted but that was circumstantial. He wanted you to be happy, and god knows he owed you for all the space he took up in the world. But that didn’t make him a pushover. No, it just made him a good friend.
“I don’t always-“ He starts, but then your hands pull one of his off the steering wheel, and he watches as you rest it in your lap.
“Whoa. Your wrist is big,” you say wondrously, trying to touch your thumb to your middle finger around Max’s wrist.
When you can’t, you trace the veins the slightly swollen veins in his arm, your fingernails grazing his skin. It tickles, and Max fights the urge to move, even when you bend his fingers back with yours to opens his palm. He keeps glancing over at you, wondering what you see. You’re looking at his hand like there are words written on his skin.
“I need my hand,” he says after a while, only because there’s a vague thought in his head that if there were something written on him, it’s not something he’d want you to read.
“Nope.” You say simply, slotting your fingers into his and turning to look out the window.
My God, this woman.
He drives the rest of the way with one hand, using your linked fingers to turn on the indicator at every turn.
By the time he parks up in the underground garage, you’re half asleep, blinking awake only when Max turns off the car. He gets out and goes round to your side before you’ve even moved.
“Are we home already?” You rub your eyes, adjusting to the harsh lighting.
“Yeah,” Max says as you slide out of the car. One of your ankles bends in your heel and stumble into Max. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m good. I’m-“ you try to stand straight and immediately wince. “Ow,”
Max rolls his eyes and crouches down. “Sit down.” He instructs, and for once you just do what he says, lowering yourself to sit on the edge of the car floor while Max busies himself with sliding your heels off your feet. He hears you mumbling about a headache but he doesn’t respond.
One thing at a time, please.
“Better?” He asks you, and you nod. That is, until you try to stand again.
“Ow,”
Watching you hop on one foot, Max lets out a loud sigh. It’s only when he sees tears pooling in your eyes that all his irritation evaporates.
“Come here,” he sighs, and when you hobble into him, he grips your waist and lifts, chuckling at your startled squeak. “It’s okay, I’ve got you,”
You wrap your legs around his waist, and he struggles to find an appropriate place to hold you without touching you. He settles for placing his arm all the way underneath you in a way that is extremely painful for him but decidedly the least inappropriate.
Not that it seems like you would care. You’re mumbling nonsense into his neck, swinging your shoes so that the heels poke into his back, blissfully unaware as Max carries you into the lift, straining to push the button for the penthouse.
You lift your head from Max’s neck mid sentence, just as the lift starts to move. “…but I just hate cheeseboards and so it would always be doomed,” you babble, leaning back a little so you can look Max in the eye. “You know?”
Max doesn’t know. He has no idea. He’s missed the whole story that’s got you to talking about cheese and even if he had heard, he can’t really concentrate with you wrapped around him like a koala.
“Uh-“ he stammers, forcing himself to maintain eye contact while he tries to think of something to say. You stare at him blankly, “I don’t-“
“Your eyes are so…” you trail off, head tilting as you stare. Max watches your lips part, waiting for something, anything. “Blue,”
He husks out a laugh, and you just keep staring at him, unaware of what you’ve said.
You rest your forehead on his shoulder and take a deep breath. “It’s a weird feeling,” you say wistfully. “Is this what it feels like in the car? Like you’re flying?”
Before Max can ask what you mean, he feels you curl in on him, you arms gripping him tighter, and the question dies on his lips.
A few seconds later the lift opens into your apartment, and Max gently eases you to the floor.
“You’re on your own now,” he says, but you’re already stumbling into the hallway, tiptoeing past his trainers and padel bag as Jimmy appears to greet you.
“Kitty!” You squeal, heading towards him. As if he can sense your altered state, the car turns around and hightails it towards Max’s bedroom. You turn to Max with a pout. “Ew. Why does he hate me?”
“He doesn’t-“
“I’m hungry,”
Of course you are.
“I don’t think anything is open right now,”
“But I’m starving. Look, you can see my bones,” you whine, and before Max can even process your words you pull your dress straight over your head.
“Oh, fuck-“
Max slaps his hand over his eyes so fast he hurts his nose. He turns around for good measure, and even that doesn’t feel like enough. He doesn’t even feel like he should be in the room.
“Sweater,” is all he manages to say as he shrugs out of his zip up hoodie. He holds it in your direction, one hand back over his eyes.
“Huh?”
“Sweater,” Max repeats, violently shaking the hoodie in your direction. “Sweatshirt. Please put on the sweatshirt,”
“I’m wearing pasties, you pervert,” you say through a laugh, but Max still doesn’t uncover his eyes because he’s not sure that nipples would be the entirety of the problem.
Eventually he feels you tugging on the shirt and he lets out a sigh of relief when he hears you zip it up. When he opens his eyes and turns around, you’re smiling at him in a way that is so patronising he wants to crawl into a hole.
“I’m still hungry,” you huff out, crossing your arms.
Sometimes Max remembers why he used to dislike you.
He sighs again. “Sit over there,” he says, nodding to the couch. “I’ll heat something up,”
You flash him a toothy grin and now he really remembers why he used to dislike you.
He watches you flop down on the couch and turn on the tv, flipping through channels while takes a container of mushroom tagliatelle out of the fridge and sticking it in the microwave for you. You make weird sounds of displeasure - something akin to a depressed goat - at everything that comes on tv, and Max fights the urge to comment. He picks up your dress while he waits for the food to hear, so that the cats don’t get to it, and leaves it folded on the hall table.
He perversely relishes the moments where he gets to be the grown up out of the two of you.
Eventually the microwave beeps and he put the pasta in a bowl before joining you in the living room. You look up at him from under the hood of his sweatshirt, a smile splitting your face.
“I love you,” you say as you take the bowl, and Max smiles. Maybe your drunk personality isn’t so bad.
“I love you, too,”
You giggle. “I was talking to the pasta,” you tell him, giggling again at the look on his face.
Max settles onto the couch beside you, the exhaustion finally taking over his body. He doubts he’ll make it to bed tonight. He can already feel his eyelids getting heavy.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” it’s a whisper into the nonexistent space between you, and Max just makes a sound of acknowledgement through the haze of fatigue. “That was for you, not the pasta,”
“Thank you for clarifying,” he murmurs, not even opening his eyes, though he doesn’t remember closing them.
“And I do love you. Like…like coming up in the lift,” your voice seems further away now, and he can’t tell whether the gentle lilt is because he’s tired, or you are. He can’t understand what you mean, and once again he wants to ask, but his lips don’t move. Maybe he doesn’t need to know.
All he knows is that he can feel the heat of your skin next to his. You’re home. You’re safe. He can rest now.
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back to chicago part 2- c.berzatto
a/n: part 2!!! i imagined a fem reader and it's mentioned quite a few times but as usual, imagine what you like. SET AFTER SEASON 2
summary: a double date with your boyfriend at the Bear can only go well, right?
pairings: carmenberzatto x femreader (complicated relationship), platonicthe bear x reader, romantic oc x reader
warnings: general angst, mentions of mikeys death, breaking up, bad family relationships, etc.
PART 1
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
You
Dinner was delicious. The conversation was good and you had almost pushed the drama of earlier out of your head. You’d stayed till close to continue the talking and only now you were packing up.
“Bug!” Richie called after you as you put on your coat. “You guys wanna have a look at the kitchen?”
John and Emilia nodded and you obliged them as Adrian sighed, squeezing your hand with his own.
“Sounds good Rich,” You agreed and Adrian helped you remove your coat, then put a hand around your waist, holding you close.
“Why do I have a feeling this will end in tears?” Adrian whispered and you shrugged.
“Nothing we can do about it now.”
You got the tour of the kitchen and truly, it was impressive. It was beautiful and clean, and you got to see everyone else. Marcus, Tina, Ebraheim, Neil, and Sweeps. You met Sydney, she seemed nice but reserved.
“This is your boy?” Tina smirked and you nodded. “He’s pretty.”
Adrian chuckled and smiled at her, “Thank you.”
Then it came to Carmy. He smiled at you as your friends introduced themselves, then wrapped you up in a ‘bear’ hug. It shocked you, yet you reciprocated all the same.
“We have some catching up to do,” he said once you pulled away. “You guys are welcome back here anytime.”
You stared at Carmen, his arm around your waist, making this choice for you. Richie led John and Emilia through the rest of the kitchen, out of earshot from your conversation.
“I should really go back with Adrian, I’m tired-” You started but Carmen cut you off.
“It’ll only be a little while, you should stay,” He smirked as Adrian’s jaw ticked.
“Yeah, you should,” Adrian said, ‘challenging’ Carmen. You rolled your eyes.
“Carmen, if you only plan on comparing dicks with my boyfriend right now, count me the fuck out. You said it yourself, we never dated. Now, if you’d genuinely like to catch up with me I’d be happy to get coffee tomorrow, but right now- I’m fucking tired. Goodnight Carmen.”
Carmen looked down, clearly embarrassed. “Coffee tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’ll come by at 10. Goodnight,” You left his hold on your waist and grabbed Adrian’s hand, stalking out of the restaurant.
“Well he’s a delight,” Adrian sighed, squeezing your hand.
“Yeah,” you sighed.
“I don’t want you to go see him tomorrow,” Adrian admitted, pulling you aside. You chuckled, thinking he was joking. He was never one to be possessive in any way or ask you not to wear or do things. His glaze hardened and your laughter died down.
“You’re serious?”
“Yes I’m serious! He’s a dick! You don’t owe him anything!” He whined.
“He’s practically family,” You said matter-of-factly and dropped his hand.
“Oh and look at how great the rest of your family is!” He snarked, then his face dropped as you felt the stab of deep hurt he’d just caused. “Baby, I-I didn’t mean it like that-”
“Fuck you. We’re done.”
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Carmen
I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t. Not when I knew I was seeing you the next day. I had gotten to the Bear nice and early to do all my lunchtime prep so if our coffee dat- thing went overtime I wouldn’t be chewed out by Richie.
“Cousin!” Richie shouted.
“What?!” I shouted back, sweat coating my palms as I wrote down recipes and anticipated your arrival.
“Bugs here! Come on!”
It was 10:02. You were technically 2 minutes late. I got up and out of my office, grabbed my coat and sped to the front of the restaurant, almost tripping myself in the process. And there you stood. Angelic as ever. I had made an effort with my appearance that day, thank god. A cream sweater I’d bought in New York, dark jeans I knew you’d appreciate since you knew about jeans, and I’d washed my hair this morning and put in some products Sugar had gotten me for Christmas, though I’d already sweated it out by 10:02.
“Hey,” I smiled.
“Hey,” You sighed, clearly more sombre than I was hoping.
This was going to be difficult. “You alright?” I asked as we walked outside.
“Great,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your words. “Wonderful even.”
“What happened?” He asked, trying to hold back from the question that wanted to fall out of his mouth so badly.
“It doesn’t matter,” you laughed, but it was humourless.
“Doesn’t have anything to do with that guy then?” I had asked and you had glared at me. I sent my cheeky smile to the floor and held up my hands in surrender. “Just askin’.”
“Yeah, don’t,” We both laughed that time. It felt good. It felt normal. Everything felt right for the first time in years.
“Seriously, what is his deal?”
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
You
“You mean my boyfriend?” you smirked, not telling him you’d broken up. It was quite the rash decision, something you weren’t used to.
“Yeah,” he shrugged.
“Well, he’s an accountant, we met at a jazz club a few years ago,” you explained.
“Anything else?”
“He’s nice?” you smiled. “He’s reliable.”
“Oh, so you don’t like him,” Carmen smirked and you scoffed.
“Fuck off,” you jested. “It’s complicated.”
“How? The dude is obsessed with you,” he shrugged. “What makes that complicated?”
“The fact that I broke up with him last night,” You admitted, rolling your eyes when Carmen looked at you with a wide-eyed expression. “Do not flatter yourself Carmen. He was being shitty.”
“That’s not what I was saying,” Carmen half-lied. “I just… I’m surprised.”
“I’ll probably go back later and apologise, and we’ll kiss and make up as usual.”
“This happens regularly?”
“No,” you admitted. “But he does do shitty things sometimes, then apologises.”
“Shitty like what?”
“Stuff like…” you didn’t want to tell him. “Look it doesn’t matter, all that matters is us right now,” You smiled at him. “Tell me about the Bear.”
“That shithole?” he joked and it finally made you laugh.
“Yes, that shithole.”
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
After two hours of catching up with Carmy, you started walking him back to the Bear.
“When are you heading back to New York?” he asked.
“Soon, I guess? I do have clients to get back to but… I don’t know. I love Chicago.”
“You should stick around,” Carmy smiled. “You brighten up the place.”
“I don’t know if my back will survive staying at hotels for too much longer,” you chuckled.
“Stay at mine,” he offered immediately.
“You’re sure?” You asked, shocked at his level of generosity.
“Of course. I missed you. I’ve always missed you.”
You stared at him for a moment, standing outside of the Bear. You weren’t used to this level of emotion from him. “I missed you too, Bear.”
He pulled you into a quick hug and you kissed his cheek, then walked on, much more to think about than before.
#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto x you#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto x reader#the bear#the bear fx#carmy berzatto#carmen berzatto fluff
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Falling Into You (Part 2)
Pairing: Emilia Clarke x fem!reader
Summary: Y/N and Emilia find themselves on the pages of the Daily Mail
Word Count: 2k+
Part 1 Here Part 3 Here
The morning light crept through the thin curtains of Y/N’s new flat, illuminating the scattered boxes and half-unpacked luggage that still littered the living room. It had only been a couple of weeks since she’d moved to the UK from Colorado, and despite her best intentions, she hadn’t quite found the time or energy to finish unpacking. The flat was a charming, if modest, space with creaky wooden floors and large windows that let in the autumn sunlight, but it still felt more like a temporary stopover than home.
Y/N padded around the kitchen in her worn slippers, her movements leisurely and unhurried. The kettle bubbled away on the stove, steam rising as she waited for the water to boil. She glanced around at the cluttered countertops, mentally adding ‘organize kitchen’ to the ever-growing list of things she needed to do. But not today. Today was going to be a lazy Saturday.
The whistle of the kettle broke her train of thought, and she poured the boiling water over a coffee filter, the rich scent of the brew filling the small kitchen. She sighed contentedly, the familiar smell a comforting reminder of home. Her favorite mug—a chipped one from a café in the Rockies—sat waiting on the counter. She filled it to the brim, taking a cautious sip before making her way to the kitchen table.
She pushed aside a pile of unopened mail and travel brochures, finding a small space to set down her coffee. Her laptop sat closed in front of her, an open invitation to start her day with the mindless scroll of social media or catching up on emails, but she resisted the urge. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, cradling the warm mug between her hands as she soaked in the quiet stillness of the morning.
Just as she was starting to enjoy the peacefulness, her phone buzzed, vibrating its way across the cluttered table. She glanced at the screen and saw her coworker's name, Sara, flashing. With a bemused smile, she picked up the call.
“Hey, Sara. What’s up?” she greeted, her voice still thick with sleep.
Sara’s voice crackled through the speaker, rapid and almost breathless with excitement. “Oh my God, Y/N! Did you see it? Tell me you’ve seen it! I just sent it to you!”
Y/N blinked, bewildered, her still sleepy mind struggling to catch up. “Uh, seen what?”
“Check your texts!” Sara insisted, her voice buzzing with so much energy that Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Alright, alright,” she muttered, pulling the phone away from her ear and opening the text message thread. A new message from Sara blinked at the top of the screen. She tapped on it, her thumb hovering over the image file for a moment before she clicked it.
Her eyes widened as the Daily Mail article loaded. It was a bright, glossy picture of her and Emilia Clarke from the other day. They were walking through the park, Emilia mid-laugh, her hand brushing against Y/N’s arm as they stood outside the café. The headline blared across the screen in bold letters:
"Emilia Clarke Enjoys a Cool Fall Day with a Mysterious Woman!"
Y/N nearly spat out her coffee, coughing as she read the caption below the photo. “‘The Game of Thrones star was seen enjoying a casual day out with an unidentified brunette, sparking rumors of a new romance...’” Her eyes widened, and she could almost hear Sara's barely-contained glee on the other end of the line.
“Are you kidding me?” Y/N muttered to herself, scrolling down the article. There were more pictures—one of her laughing at something Emilia had said, another of them at the café, their heads close together in conversation. Each image was accompanied by captions that only seemed to add fuel to the fire. “Who writes this stuff?”
Sara’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “So? Spill! Are you secretly dating Emilia Clarke, and you just forgot to tell me? Because that’s something you don’t forget to mention, Y/N!”
Y/N rubbed a hand over her face, feeling a mix of amusement and disbelief. “No, Sara, I’m not dating Emilia Clarke,” she said, shaking her head as she continued scrolling. “‘The pair appeared at ease as they strolled through the park, sparking rumors of a potential new love interest.’ Really?”
Sara giggled on the other end of the line. “I mean, they’re not wrong. You two looked super cute together. Who knew you’d have such an eventful first month in the UK?”
Y/N let out a huff of laughter. “Yeah, because this is exactly what I pictured—moving to a new country, getting mistaken for a celebrity’s new girlfriend in the tabloids. Totally normal.”
They both laughed, the absurdity of the situation lightening the initial shock. Y/N glanced around her still-chaotic flat, the unpacked boxes and scattered belongings serving as a stark contrast to the glamorous life the article seemed to suggest she was part of.
Y/N shook her head, returning her attention back to the article. “‘The pair appeared to be quite cozy as they strolled through the park, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. Could this be the beginning of a new celebrity romance?’” she read aloud, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Unbelievable.”
“Cozy, huh?” Sara teased, giggling. “You know, this could be your big break into the world of tabloid fame!”
Y/N rolled her eyes, unable to hold back a laugh of her own. “Oh, great. Just what I need. My fifteen minutes of fame as Emilia Clarke’s mystery woman.”
Y/N glanced back at the article, a strange mix of amusement and disbelief washing over her. The way the article painted the day as some kind of romantic rendezvous was almost comical, if not for the fact that it was now out there for the world to see.
“Well, I have to go, but we’re not done talking about this!” Sara warned, still giggling.
“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N replied with a smirk. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Y/N set her phone down and leaned back in her chair, chuckling to herself. “Emilia Clarke’s mystery woman,” she muttered with a shake of her head. The idea was so absurd it was almost laughable. She glanced around her cluttered flat, her eyes landing on an open box filled with books she still hadn’t unpacked.
“Well, if I’m going to be famous, I guess I should at least finish unpacking,” she said to no one in particular. With a grin, she pushed herself up from the table and set to work. After all, it wasn’t every day you got mistaken for a celebrity’s love interest in the tabloids. She might as well enjoy it.
Emilia’s POV
The late morning sun was warm on Emilia’s skin as she settled into a wicker chair in her garden, cradling a mug of steaming tea between her hands. It was a rare, quiet Saturday morning, and she intended to savor it. The garden was her sanctuary, a little pocket of green amidst the bustling city, filled with blooming flowers and the soft hum of bees. She took a sip of her tea, the gentle breeze rustling through the leaves as she let herself relax into the tranquility of the moment.
Her phone, resting on the small table beside her, buzzed with a notification. She ignored it at first, not wanting to interrupt the peaceful silence, but curiosity got the better of her. She reached for the device, glancing at the screen. It was a message from her publicist, Jackie.
Jackie: What do I need to know about this?
Emilia frowned, confusion furrowing her brow as she opened the attachment. Her eyes widened as the Daily Mail article loaded, the headline jumping out at her in bold letters:
“Emilia Clarke Enjoys a Cool Fall Day with a Mysterious Woman!”
A groan escaped her lips, loud enough to disturb a few birds perched in the nearby tree. “Oh, for the love of—” she muttered, scrolling through the article. There were pictures of her and Y/N from the other day, walking through Hampstead Heath, laughing at the café. The captions were all suggestive, spinning a narrative that was completely out of line with what had actually happened.
She rubbed her forehead, her mind racing. How had the paparazzi even found her? It had been such an ordinary day, and she hadn’t noticed anyone following them. Her eyes skimmed the article again, noting how it made Y/N out to be her new love interest, emphasizing their supposed chemistry and the cozy atmosphere between them.
Before she could fully process her irritation, her phone rang, Jackie’s name flashing on the screen. Emilia sighed and answered, bringing the phone to her ear.
“Good morning, Jackie,” she greeted, trying to keep her tone light despite the frustration simmering just beneath the surface.
“Morning? More like afternoon at this rate,” Jackie quipped, but her tone quickly turned serious. “Emilia, what’s going on? Are you dating this woman or not? Because, from these photos, it certainly looks like there’s something going on.”
Emilia closed her eyes, the absurdity of it all almost making her laugh. “No, Jackie, I’m not dating her. I literally just met her the other day. I tripped over her in the park, we had tea, and that was it.”
“Mhm,” Jackie’s voice was skeptical, but playful. “Because that’s how everyone looks at a stranger they just met. I mean, look at these pictures. You two look awfully cozy together.”
Emilia bit back a retort, her gaze shifting to the garden around her, the flowers swaying gently in the breeze. “We were just talking. She seemed nice, and we had a good conversation, but that’s it. I feel terrible for her—now she’s got her face plastered all over the tabloids because she happened to have tea with me.”
Jackie’s sigh was audible over the line. “You know this happens. You’re Emilia Clarke, for crying out loud. Every time you step outside, people notice. Whether you like it or not, that’s just how it is.”
“I know,” Emilia muttered, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “But it’s not fair to her. She didn’t ask for any of this.”
“Maybe not,” Jackie conceded, her tone softening a bit. “But you can’t control what the paparazzi do. You know that. It’s part of the deal, unfortunately.”
Emilia was silent for a moment, staring down at the half-empty mug of tea in her hand. She’d been through this a hundred times before, but it never got any easier. And now this poor woman, who had probably just been trying to enjoy her day, was being dragged into the spotlight because of a random encounter.
“What can I do, Jackie?” Emilia asked quietly, feeling a pang of guilt. “I want to apologize to her, at least.”
Jackie was silent for a moment, considering. “I can try to find out where she works, or maybe get her contact information somehow. But you know how tricky this can get. We don’t want to overstep.”
“I know,” Emilia sighed. “But I just… I feel like I should do something. This is all so ridiculous, and now she’s caught up in it because of me.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Jackie said, her voice gentler now. “But try not to worry too much, okay? These things blow over. People will be onto the next story before you know it.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Emilia murmured, though she didn’t feel much relief. She thanked Jackie and hung up, setting her phone down on the table with a frustrated sigh. The garden felt less serene now, the peaceful morning soured by the thought of Y/N being dragged into her chaotic world without warning.
She leaned back in her chair, staring up at the sky. It was such a small, silly thing—just a chance meeting and a bit of conversation—but it had spiraled out of control so quickly. And now Y/N, who seemed so kind and genuine, was probably dealing with the fallout.
Emilia closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and let the cool air wash over her. She’d find a way to make this right, or at least to apologize. Somehow. But for now, all she could do was sit there, sipping her now-cold tea, and wonder how one simple day in the park had turned into this.
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