#how are we feeling about these two. how are we feeling | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

butyoudidthis4what · 17 hours ago

Text

No Man's Land

Jack Abbot x f!Reader

5.1k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || C.W.: mentions of blood, mentions of guns and shootings, mentions of death/dying/coding, CPR, anxiety about partner's safety, Jack's traumatized, reader's traumatized, mentions of dissociation and compartmentalization, poor description of medical events, potentially incorrect medical descriptions/knowledge, very very light smut, angst, age gap kind of implied with Jack but not explicitly referenced, no use of y/n or related, not proofread, no beta, I think that's all but if I missed any please (nicely) let me know.

Summary: This is my Pitt-Fest-But-Not fic. Development of your relationship through vignettes of the past and conversations between Jack, Dana and Robby. There's a shooting where you work. Jack is at the ED when the dispatch comes in and is terrified when he can't get in touch with you.

A.N.: If my Robby reads like John Carter I'm sorry, except that a little bit I'm not. I feel like I'm struggling with my Jack characterization but can't tell if that's just me hating everything I do. This is my take on one of my fave tropes where reader is in mortal danger. I needed a physical location that could be associated with reader and settled on a courthouse, but what it is reader does there is not described. Probably (definitely?) needs a part two. If you get the nickname, thank you, I feel seen. If you don't I explain it at the end. This is absolutely something I would call him, in part to fuck with people who know his real name. I would love to know if you enjoyed and to hear any thoughts you'd like to share.

“He has a girlfriend,” Robby smirks at Dana.

She blinks at him. “I’m sorry, I thought we’re talking about Jack Abbot.”

“Oh we fucking are.” Robby stifles his smirk and forces his lips to remain closed and as neutral as possible.

“You’re shitting me.” Dana’s incredulous look breaks Robby a bit and he starts to laugh, tries to turn it into a cough when both he and Dana look up to find Jack staring at them as he takes his snow dusted beanie off. He gives Robby a ‘really?’ look even though he knew Robby would rat him out to Dana the second Robby had dragged it out of him.

Dana looks back at Robby. “Who? How did they meet?”

Robby holds up his hands. “You now officially know as much as I do about her.” Dana makes a noise of vague discontent but knows Jack well enough to know Robby is telling the truth. That’s all that’s been revealed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s not worth it,” you whisper. Jack blinks and looks around, unsure if you’re talking to him. He has no idea who you are, has never seen you before in his life but it appears that you are in fact whispering to him in the middle of this bookstore.

He raises his eyebrows. “It’s not?”

You shake your head, give him an almost conspiratorial smile. “No, he must have gotten a new ghost writer. It’s really bad in comparison to his other stuff. Save your time and money. I’ll give you a summary right now for free if you’re that curious.”

Jack smiles to himself a little bit as he sets the book back on the shelf. There’s something about you, your smile, the way you just randomly spoke to him. He’s drawn to you. An alarm goes off in some part of his brain telling him to ignore it, ignore you, he could get hurt. He pretends to weigh his options as he turns to face you fully. “How about for a cup of coffee?”

Your brows furrow in confusion for a moment. There’s simply no way this unfairly attractive man is asking to buy you a cup of coffee. “The summary?” You clarify. “That I’d give for free. You want it to cost a cup of coffee instead?” You let out a nervous laugh and some part of his heart aches because you’re so adorable. “I just want to make sure I understand before I potentially make an even bigger fool of myself.”

“Yep.” He can’t help but laugh a little. “You give me the summary over coffee. Actually, you know what? You’re going to have to give me a recommendation too because now I’m going to have nothing to read.” He clicks his tongue at you.

“Well,” you laugh out, all breathy as you try to pull yourself together. “You drive a hard bargain but I think I’m willing to accept those terms…” you glance at his name badge, “Dr. Abbot.” You give him a full smile and Jack knows then and there he’s totally fucked in the best of ways.

“Jack.” He smiles at you as you both begin walking towards the café. “Call me Jack.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything quiet enough after handoff, Robby walks out with Jack into the morning sun that does little to warm the breeze pulling leaves off the trees. “Any chance you can cover a shift on Saturday night?” Robby is asking, yes, but he knows it’s not really a question, Jack is always willing to work.

“Can’t.” Jack says simply, shrugging his shoulders. “Sorry.” There’s an expectant silence that hangs between the two as they keep walking.

“Care to elaborate?” Robby finally asks.

“No.” Jack turns and smirks at him. “It’s none of your and Dana’s business.”

“Ha!” Robby laughs. “So it’s her, it’s about her! The ever elusive girlfriend. Will we ever get to meet her? Or does she not want to meet us? Is she real?” Jack stops walking and gives Robby one of his looks. “Holy shit, is it someone here?”

Jack snorts at that. “No it’s not someone here. She’s not even in the medical field.” He sighs, half longing and half resignation of some kind. “She’s honestly dying to meet you guys, especially you and Dana, but I’m trying to protect her from this hellhole. It’s hard with schedules too, to find a time.”

“That’s such fucking bullshit,” Robby laughs. “Are you afraid to truly commit? Think bringing her here will make it too real?”

It’s a valid question but one that Jack nevertheless resents. “No, actually, if you must fucking know Saturday is our one year anniversary. We have plans. So you’ll have to find someone else to cover. But I’ll bring her around soon,” he laughs through his nose to himself at your stubbornness, “if I don’t she’s liable to just show up one of-”

“A year?” Robby laughs, incredulous. “A fucking year? How the hell did you hide it for three months before I dragged it out of you?”

Jack ignores him. “Also, I’m moving to days. It’s better for us.” He’s so nonchalant about it, just states it like he’s saying the sky is blue, like it’s not going to make Robby’s eyes widen and mouth drop open like it does.

“I don’t,” Robby huffs a laugh, “I don’t even know where to fucking begin.”

“Then don’t.” Jack smirks, starts to walk again while Robby stays frozen, running a hand through his hair. “Go do some actual work.”

“I thought you found comfort in the darkness?” Robby yells after him.

Jack slows and turns around but keeps walking backwards, one hand holding the strap of his backpack to keep it over his shoulder. He glances down at his phone and the photo of you that is now his wallpaper. He smiles to himself a little, yells back. “Guess I find it somewhere else now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You giggle, honest to god giggle and Jack could lose his damn mind as he nibbles at your collarbone. “You know if my anatomy class had been this fun, I might have become a doctor too.”

You’re laying on your back in bed as Jack kisses your sweat slicked skin all over as you both come down from your last round. He’s taken to 'teaching you anatomy' like this, identifying different parts of the human body with his mouth.

“Hmm,” Jack hums against you. “I’m glad it wasn’t then. Fuck doctors.” He starts to kiss down your chest.

“That has become quite the favorite pastime of mine, yes,” you smirk. “Fucking one specific doctor, actually.”

“Getting fucked by one specific doctor more like it,” he murmurs into your sternum. He kisses laterally, lips hitting your breast and moving towards your nipple.

“I think we’ve established what those are,” you moan softly as he takes your nipple into his mouth. You let your hands run through his salt and pepper curls that you adore so much.

“Can never be too thorough.” You giggle at him again and can feel him smile against you. “But fine, you want something new?” You nod, let your nails scratch gently at his scalp.

“Nipple,” he kisses your nipple and then down your torso to right above your belly button, “to navel is no man’s land.” He continues to lavish kisses on the soft skin of your stomach before looking up at you when you don’t respond.

“I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or not.” You eye him with mock suspicion.

He laughs and it’s your favorite sound in the whole world, you swear. Well maybe second, only behind hearing him tell you that he loves you.

“I’m not. Nipple to navel is no man’s land. It’s a real thing. It’s one of the worst places to get shot or stabbed because there’s so many organs that could be hit and the place we’d expect to get hit would depend on whether the person was breathing in or out at the time, whether their lungs were inflated or deflated. And we generally have no way of knowing. It can be difficult to get clear imaging.” He starts kissing lower, down below your belly button, rubbing his stubble along your skin to tease you as he gets lower and lower. “It’s never a good time. Lots of poor outcomes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s supposed to be his day off and yet Jack finds himself staring at the board and running a hand over his face. “It’s still so fucking weird seeing you here during the day and it not meaning something catastrophic has happened.”

Jack turns to look at Dana. “I’ve been working days for a month now and it’s my day off.”

“You can go, we’re fine for now,” Robby nods at Jack. “Thanks for the brief assistance brother.”

“No, no,” Dana interjects, “he’s not allowed to leave until we nail down a time to meet his girl.”

Robby raises his eyebrows and starts to tilt his head and open his mouth to agree with Dana. A dispatch comes through before anyone can say anything else and Dana grabs it, pinning Jack down with her eyes, daring him to leave before discussing meeting you.

“Saved by the bell,” Jack huffs, taking his stethoscope off and starting to walk away.

“Shooting at a courthouse,” Dana relays to Robby, “not a mass cas, just a few people, two a little iffy, one they’re already doing CPR on, a few caught in the race to get out. Two dead on the scene.”

It takes a few seconds for Dana’s words to truly register with Jack, but when they do his hearing fades to only a sharp ringing in his ear. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t fucking happening to him again. He’d been so reticent at the beginning of your relationship, waited so long to give in and define it and hand his heart over to you, terrified he’d lose you because of himself and who he was, his imperfections, his past, his trauma, his PTSD, his baggage, as he thought of it. He feels so stupid now, in the moment, not having worried about how he could lose you from a random act of violence, that in the moments he can’t be there to protect you somebody could come in and rip you from him. Just like that. With the pull of a trigger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You know, I can confidently say this is the most unique date I’ve ever been on,” you tease Jack.

“Hey,” he pants, “me teaching you CPR is a great date.”

“It would be better if you took your shirt off,” you whisper and wink at him before letting your eyes linger on his arm.

“If I did that you’d be so distracted you’d learn nothing,” he smirks at you, sweat glistening on his skin just a little. Just enough to drive you nearly feral for him.

“I think I’ve got the compressions part down, but I may need more help learning the mouth to mouth part.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You fucking love it,” you shoot back at him, leaning into his space and bumping him with your shoulder.

He can’t help but kiss you. “Yes,” the word is muffled against your lips, “yes I do.” He gives you a firmer kiss this time before he pulls away. “But really. You should know how to do it, just in case. It will help you feel in control in the moment if the need for it ever arises. You’ll know what to do.”

You bite your lip and smile at him.

“What?” He eyes you with suspicion.

You shrug. “Nothing, I just love you so much. Sometimes it overwhelms me, how much I love you.”

He can see it in your eyes, how much you love him, can almost feel it physically squeezing him like a tight hug. He’s really not sure what he ever did to deserve you or your love. “I love you too, Doll.”

“I love you more, Peter.” Your face pulls up into that usual self-satisfied and silly grin you get sometimes when you call him that nickname. It’s a recent thing. You’re calling him it more and more though, it’s becoming a natural way of referring to him. From anyone else he would hate it, hearing it between another couple would make him roll his eyes. But from you? He loves it more than you’ll ever truly know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack spins around.

“Jack you can still go, we’ve got it covered.” Robby looks at Jack for a minute and then meets Dana’s eyes as she looks to him after taking her own look at Jack.

“What courthouse?” Jack asks. It’s quiet, controlled and clipped and almost missable in the chaos of the ED. He’s not looking at either of them, staring past them at a wall with a chest heaving more and more by the second as his face grows paler.

He tries to keep it together. Dana will say the name and it won’t be your courthouse and he’ll go straight to your actual courthouse, grab you, take you home and never let you leave. A perfectly reasonable reaction, he thinks.

“Jack-”

“What fucking courthouse?” It’s louder this time, almost enough to pause the chaos of the ED.

Jack’s voice drips with what sounds like rage to most of those who hear him but is unmistakably fear to Dana and Robby.

Neither of them have ever seen Jack like this, this scared, struggling this hard to keep it together, truly raising his voice for anything other than to quiet down an unruly patient. His eyes find Dana’s and they’re glassier than she’s ever seen them, the intensity of his gaze making it painfully clear he’s hanging on every word and the wrong ones will shatter him.

She swallows and opens her mouth and Jack knows what she’s about to say before she even says it. And she does. The name of your courthouse.

“I’ll triage.” He says it before Dana has even finished, the words hollow and breathless and commanding all at once. He spins and starts off to the bay doors with nothing more. He obviously knows from the report Dana gave that they won’t need triage. He just needed to get out of there and try to create an excuse to stay in the ambulance bay. He knows Robby won’t let him, that Robby and Dana already know you’re at that courthouse, could be a victim.

Robby and Dana share another look, So you work at a courthouse. This courthouse. “Fuck,” Dana mutters, “I really hope we don’t end up meeting her today.”

Jack’s hand dives in his pocket as he strides to the ambulance bay. He already knows in his heart that there’s not going to be a text from you saying that you’re okay. He hasn’t felt his phone buzz. He never even kept his phone on him until you.

Even though he knew he wouldn’t have any messages, waking his phone and seeing none hits him like a freight train all the same, right in the chest. It threatens to bring him to his knees, make him sick, but he can’t. He sets it all aside. If you do come out of one of the ambulances he can hear in the distance you’re going to need him at his best. But what if you’re one of the two people dead at the scene? He has to shove that out of his mind too, can’t give into the complete panic that threatens to consume him.

Disassociate. Compartmentalize. Do the job. ABC. Assess. Stabilize. Repeat.

His fingers fly across his phone automatically, calling you having become so routine. He prefers it so much to texting, hearing your voice, communicating more directly. “Call me,” he starts, “the second you get this message. Or fucking text me,” his voice breaks, “please. Fucking please.” He hangs up and calls again, knowing he’ll get your voicemail again but trying anyway because it’s all he can do.

He’s helpless, powerless, he can’t do anything to try and save you and that threatens to swallow him whole.

Your voicemail recording telling people to leave a message plays again and all Jack can wonder is if this is all he’ll have left of your voice in his life. Your voice on your mailbox, maybe some voicemails you’ve left him, videos, voice memos you’ve sent. All distorted by recording, not your real voice. He can’t remember what your real voice sounds like all of the sudden. What your laugh sounds like, how you sound when you’re sleepy or in the throes of pleasure or telling him you love him. God, did he even tell you he loved you the last time he saw you, when he said goodbye?

“I need you to call me,” he says into the phone again, pauses. “I love you.” He takes a ragged breath in and speaks through his teeth. “I love you so fucking much, so you have to be okay and you have to fucking call me.”

He sends a series of texts asking you to call him or text him or call the hospital or do anything to let him know you’re okay, asking if you are okay, asking where you are as though you’re going to respond. He already knows you’re in the back of one of those ambulances because of fucking course you are, because he’s not allowed to have anything good in his life apparently. How could he be so stupid to think differently?

“Hey, we don’t need triage for this. The numbers are controlled.” Robby walks out to stand next to Jack in the ambulance bay. “If you want to stay you can, but you can’t wait out here to see who shows up, you have to-”

“Yeah, yeah, jump on the first patient that pulls up, I know, I got it,” he interrupts Robby.

There’s a silence as Robby passes him a gown and ties for him before he does the same for Robby.

“Jack, if she’s in one you cannot-”

“Like fuck I can’t.” It’s just a statement. Cool and collected and a projection of indifference. It scares Robby more than if Jack had yelled.

“No, actually brother, you can’t. I’m telling you right now. You’re not working on her. We don’t work on family, on significant others, and you would tell me the exact same thing. It’s too risky, you’ll be too clouded.” Robby watches Jack’s jaw clench and roll as he stares out at the street.

He wants to argue that of course he’ll be clear, he’ll be focusing on saving you, he’ll have never been so clear in his life. But part of him knows that seeing you like that on his trauma table, your blood all over the table and him and his hands might make him freeze.

“Fine.” Jack whispers. “But if she’s,” Jack has to pause and take a shuddery breath. “If she’s gone or really going and it’s inevitable you have to let me in. You have to let me try to save her. You have to let me code her, Michael.”

He can taste the rising bile in his throat just at having to talk about coding you.

The first ambulance pulls up before Robby can respond and Jack’s on it so fast Robby’s surprised Jack doesn’t get smacked in the face by the door opening.

It’s not you. It’s someone who is very much not you and is clearly one of the iffy ones.

Disassociate. Compartmentalize. Do the job. ABC. Assess. Stabilize. Repeat.

Jack forces himself to go emotionally numb as he listens to the paramedic rattle off vitals and history, trying so very hard to focus on this, something he can do, even if it’s not for you. By the time they hit trauma one Jack’s fine and in full swing, running it like he would any other trauma. Nobody on the team in the room with him suspects anything is amiss.

He hates the way he can’t see the other’s who come in, that he has to stay with this patient until they’re stable and can’t go looking for you. He chastises himself for not having brought you here before or at least having you meet Dana and Robby. They don’t even know what you look like, couldn’t identify you.

“Jack!” He glances at Dana who stands at the door as he preps for the chest tube. “What’s her name?”

He yells your name at her, impassive and stoic as he reaches for the scalpel, ignoring the looks everyone throws each other at the slightest tremor in his voice.

“I’ll look for her.” Dana promises. He doesn’t respond. He can’t. He’ll fall apart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The restaurant you’re at has to be the fanciest place you’ve ever been to. It’s the hottest place in the city and you have no idea how Jack snagged reservations here for dinner to finish out celebrating your one year anniversary.

The lighting and low hum of other patrons talking to each other and glasses and silverware and plates tinkling is cinematic. You feel like the main character. But then that’s always how Jack makes you feel.

“I got you something.” He pulls out a wrapped rectangular object.

You click your tongue and tsk at him. “We said we’d do them at home! I didn’t bring yours!”

“I know. I have something for you at home too.” His eyes sparkle in the flickering candle light, a little smirk pulling up. “I didn’t mean for it to be a double entendre, but both are true.” You snort a laugh at him and take the gift from him. “Open it.” He’s still smiling, eyes still sparkling, but there’s something there. He’s nervous. It makes you even more curious.

You carefully unwrap the object until it reveals itself as a hardcover book. That same one Jack had in his hand a year ago and that you told him was bad and gave him a summary of over coffee.

“Oh, Jack,” you say softly, eyes getting a little watery. It’s so perfect. So sweet and sentimental. The book that brought you together, that gave you each other. It’s almost like a physical representation of the foundation of your relationship in a way.

“You have to open it,” he instructs you in a whisper.

You raise an eyebrow but do as he says.

‘Move in with me?’ is written on the blank first page.

You look between the page and Jack. “Is this?” You look back at the page and then up at him again. “Are you really asking…?”

He nods. “Move in with me. Or move somewhere with me, we can get our own place, it doesn’t have to be my apartment. We basically live together anyway at this point. Let’s just make it official, yeah? Wherever you want, you can decorate however you want. Just as long as it’s our place.”

You bring a hand to your mouth for a second before using your napkin to dab at the inner corners of your eyes to stop the tears from falling and look back at him.

“You’re a romantic, Jack Abbot,” you hum all dreamily.

“You better not tell anyone. Can’t have you ruining my street cred.” He smirks, but his expression and the way he fidgets show he’s still anxious. “So?”

You realize then you never actually answered him. Sniffling a little laugh and letting a few tears fall you give him his answer, voice thick and full of emotion. “Yeah, I think I’m willing to accept those terms. I’d love to move in with you… Peter.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He hears you counting to yourself before he sees you. “One, two…”

It’s not loud, just said in a normal voice, softer if anything because of how you’re panting, but Jack is so on edge and so desperate to find you he’d subconsciously been listening closely to his surroundings, military training kicking in. His head snaps to you and he doesn’t even know what to think when he sees you being rolled in on top of a gurney, performing CPR that would rival the quality of his own.

“Why is she..?” He hears Robby question the paramedic as you roll in.

“She was performing them just as well as we could and it was better to just scoop and run,” the paramedic explains. “She must have had one hell of an instructor.”

“Peter!” You yell, without looking up, not sure if he’s still here. You’re so used to it by now that the nickname is just what comes out of your mouth as you look for him. He’d texted you to let you know he was going in for a bit.

Jack could sob and the entire team in the room with him can feel a crushing tension shatter. Maybe he does get a little teary just from the sheer relief. He tells himself it’s sweat in his eyes.

“Yeah Doll?” He yells back, not giving a fuck about everyone hearing him call you Doll, and you calling him Peter, knowing full well he’s going to have so much explaining to do about this entire situation, the confusion in the room palpable.

“I’m okay!” This time he does laugh to himself.

“Yeah I’d say so,” he mutters, smiling. He’s still anxious to see you, get his own eyes on you, feel you with his own hands.

It’s only about thirty more seconds before his patient is stable enough and he can rip his gloves and gown off and start putting fresh gloves on as he walks into the trauma room you’d been wheeled into. Normally he’d yell out for someone to talk to him or ask what they’ve got but not this time. This time he doesn’t even care about who’s on the table, only the person who came off it. Only you.

You’re standing to the side now, watching Robby and the rest of the team work, impassive as pink tears stream down your face from the dried blood on it. You’re just so fucking overwhelmed by everything and now that you’re not doing CPR everything that’s happened is hitting you at once.

Jack says your name as he moves to you, needs his hands on you.

“Are you hurt? Were you hit?” He rushes out. His voice brings you back and you look up at him with wide, terrified eyes. He goes to look you over but you latch onto him, hugging him tightly, shaking a bit.

“I’m fine, I’m okay, I’m, I’m sorry,” you start to rattle off, fisting at his scrub top and clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. In the moment he might just be.

He hugs you back just as hard, kisses the top of your head. He doesn’t care who sees right now, all he cares about is you. “It’s okay, you have nothing to apologize for. I’m just so fucking glad you’re okay. I thought… I thought you were…” He doesn’t have to finish, you know what he means. “I can’t fucking lose you. I love you way the fuck too much.”

You’ve been so wrapped up in each other neither of you have noticed that Robby’s patient, the one you were doing CPR on, has started to code again. “Abbot, need you here!”

You let him go, nod at him. “Go on,” you whisper, “I’ll be right here. I’m okay. I love you more.” Jack nods at you and walks over, jumping in and assisting Robby.

It’s once you’re out of Jack’s arms, away from his warm body and more grounded in reality that you notice how cold you are, how you’re swaying because he was supporting you far more than you realized, how lightheaded you are, how your abdomen and chest really fucking hurt. You chalk it up to the adrenaline wearing off and being sore from the chest compressions you just did.

On the other side of the room an instrument tray gets knocked over, metal hitting the floor in a loud clang. It startles you, makes you jump and twist quickly to see what it was, if it was another gun, another shot. You feel something almost tearing, a sharp pain across your abdomen and lower chest, a feeling of sticky warmth against your shirt.

You sway a little, start to realize how much worse the pain is now. It’s bad enough that you can’t even make noise to express the pain. There’s no air in your lungs, you swear. You realize your lightheadedness is now much, much worse, that you’re shivering from how cold you are. Or are you just shaking? You can’t tell. It doesn’t make sense. The room isn’t even that cold. You shouldn’t be so cold. Not unless.

You pull your shirt up slowly and look down and run your hand over your skin and sure enough, there’s a bullet hole seeping blood, about half way between your nipple line and belly button, skin now covered in a dark bruise.

You cough a little, it’s quiet. It starts feeling like there’s water in your lungs. Like you can’t get any oxygen in even though you’re in a room full of it. The metallic taste in your mouth is what manages to seep into what’s left of your consciousness next. You cough again, into your hand, and feel something wet hit your skin. Blood.

It hits you. You’re drowning in your own blood. That’s why it feels like you can’t breathe. You’ve been shot. In a bad place, one of the worst places, Jack had told you that night. You get scared, feel your heart pounding. It feels like you’re dying. You don’t want to die, don’t want to leave Jack. You’d just finished moving into your new place together, were going to spend all weekend unpacking and painting and getting furniture where you wanted it. You were going to make your home.

Time. You were supposed to have more time together.

“Hey, Jack,” you slur softly, struggling to keep yourself standing. Luckily he hears you. Your use of his first name and the slur to your voice has him panicking again already. Time slows as he turns around to take you in, eyes going from your face and the blood coating your teeth and trickling from your mouth as you try and smile reassuringly at him, down to your torso where you’re still holding your shirt up just enough for him and everyone else in the room to see the bullet hole and bruising marring your skin. “I think, I think I’m not good, it’s not good.” Your vision tunnels so fast you can just barely see Jack’s expression of sheer abject unadulterated horror and panic as you get out your last words. “Nipples to navel… no man’s land.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter. Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter. Yes, I worked in a bookstore through college.

#jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbot #dr jack abbot x reader #jack abbot imagine #jack abbot fanfic #jack abbot fanfiction #jack abbot x you #the pitt fanfic #the pitt x reader #the pitt fanfiction #jack abbott #jack abbott fanfic #jack abbott x reader #jack abbott x you #dr jack abbott x reader #dr jack abbott x you #dr jack abbot x you #jack abbott imagine

573 notes · View notes

plutoslastwords · 2 days ago

Note

I would love one of baby Norris most viral moments that would be iconic

who is this diva?

lando norris x daughter!reader

summary: lando is apprehensive about posting his daughter online, but when he does, the world loves it. a collection of small moments that the fans adore.

w/c: 1.4k

warnings: none!

a/n: maddie's active era???????

~~~

A hotshot F1 driver having an unexpected kid right in the peak of his career was practically gold dust for Formula One fans. As soon as word got out that you were born, the super keen fans were already in every comment section in any relation to Lando begging to see a picture of his newborn.

Ever the protective dad, Lando refused. He wanted to keep you private, you were the most precious thing in his world, he wanted to keep you to himself, keep you safe away from the prying eyes of the fans.

He was also struggling with learning how to be a single dad. He was still young himself, and now he was in charge of an entire person, it wasn’t the easiest thing in the world. He was beyond lucky to have his family and friends there to help him, but looking after you still took a lot of his time, delaying the process of actually introducing you to the world.

At one point he thought that it would be a good idea to show you to the world by bringing you to a race, meaning that he wouldn’t have to make a whole instagram post about it. His mom, however, quickly shut that idea down, ‘The paddock is no place for a 6 week old, Lando.’

He knew that at one point he would have to make a post acknowledging your existence, but there always seemed to be something holding him back.

It wasn’t until your 4 month birthday that he finally posted you onto his instagram. It was a simple picture of you in a little bear onesie, next to a big ‘4’ balloon which you’re looking at with a lot of distaste. In spite of this, it came with the caption, “We all love the number 4 in this house!!”

The most immediately explodes. It quickly becomes his most liked post, hell probably the most liked post in the entirety of F1. This is what he was scared of, he hated how much attention that you were getting, you were still a baby, and now north of 5 million people knew who you were.

After that, he didn’t post you again. His comments were still filled with people asking where you were, how you were doing, what your name was. He ignored all of them, trying to keep you as private as possible, but he should’ve known that that was impossible from the get go. He was an F1 driver, it wasn’t going to be a piece of cake to hide an entire child from his fanbase. He was scared of even leaving the house anymore, in fear that the paparazzi would follow and people would get more pictures of you.

The first picture of you got leaked a few weeks before your first birthday. He should’ve been expecting it, he’d brought you to your first race. You were sat in the private hospitality with his family, going in through the back entrance so that no one would see you, but someone had obviously found their way into the suite, and snapped a picture, posting it, and quickly seeing hundreds of thousands of views.

It made Lando feel sick to his stomach that he couldn’t protect your privacy. He got in contact with some lawyers, who managed to get the picture taken down, you were a minor after all, people weren’t allowed to take photos of you, but he knew that this wouldn’t stop people taking pictures of you.

After your first birthday (which involved a lot of tears from him) he decided that the only way to stop people trying to find and post so much about you was to take matters into his own hands.

It wasn’t everyday, or even every week for that matter, but he started implementing pictures of you into his usual posting schedule. Sometimes, it would be a picture of you within a photo dump from a race weekend, maybe a story of you in your pushchair whilst the two of you were out on a walk.

It worked as he hoped, people were less eager to get sneaky pictures of you, and he was able to feed them pictures of his own choice. In some way it was actually quite nice to get to share you with the world, you were his favourite thing on the planet.

You soon began to gain your own fanbase, people grasping onto every picture that Lando posted of you, commenting about just how adorable you were. Some of their favourites included:

A picture of you on Lando’s ski trip with Max F and Pietra, all wrapped up in a baby moncler jacket, sat down in the snow with the biggest grin on your face.

A picture of you in Ibiza on summer break, wrapped up in a little towel as you built a sand… castle? Sculpture? It wasn’t clear.

But their favourites were the videos that Lando posted.

‘Who’s cap have you got on, baby?’

You giggle in the background, crawling around on the floor, with a blue cap that’s much too big for you covering half of your face. ‘Calos!!!!’

‘Carlos?’

‘Calos!!!!’ You squeal

‘Why not daddy’s cap, angel?’

‘Calos!!!!’ You screech, suddenly charging as quick as you can forward, but since you have a Williams cap covering your face you’re about to go right into a table.

‘Oh shi-’ The video hears Lando say, before it cuts out as he rushes to stop you from giving yourself a concussion.

–

You’re a bit older in this one, on the plane home after Lando had just won a race.

‘How was the weekend, baby? Good?’

‘Good, daddy!!!!’ You beam, as he holds you in the lap, holding the phone in selfie mode so that you’re both on the video.

‘Yeah, what was your favourite part?’

You think long and hard about this one, ‘Leo!!’ You eventually squeal. Charles and Alexandra had brought the little dog with them that weekend, and you had gotten the chance to meet him. You were immediately enamoured, refusing to leave the Ferrari garage so that you could cuddle with the dog.

‘What about Daddy winning? Was that not good?’ He tries

You shake your head, stubbornly, ‘Leo!!! You win all the time!’ You retort, going back to colouring in your animal colouring book.

Lando shows that to the camera for a second, before returning to his face, and he gives them an exasperated look, then kissing you on the forehead and ending the video.

–

In the fan’s favourite video, it’s not Lando filming, but you. The camera is far too close to your face, too little to understand how to properly film a video.

You’re giggling and running around the house, before stopping to show the camera your toys.

‘This is rabbit!! She likes strawberries, like me!’ You show the camera a light grey, slightly tattered rabbit that Lando had gifted you when you were first born.

‘This is panda, she likes broccoli, but I don't…�� You say that you love strawberries so much because rabbit does as well, so Lando decided to tell you that your panda likes broccoli, in an attempt to get you to eat the vegetable, but it did not work.

‘Oh this is my car! It looks like my daddy’s car but it’s better!’ You show the camera a mini Mclaren, perfect sized for you, you’re about to get in it when a voice appears from the background of the recording.

‘Baby, have you seen my phone?’

You pause, ‘No?’

‘No? Why’s it a question, angel?’ He says suspiciously, coming into the room, appearing in the background of the frame. ‘Oh are we filming videos here?’ He coos, lifting you into his arms and taking the phone from you, turning off the video.

You both go off and do other things for a while, but he finds the video again just before he goes to bed, he watches it back, silenting swooning about how sweet you are. He decides to post it, thinking that it would be sweet for everyone to see how cute you are.

The world goes wild over the sweet, domestic video, it’s all Lando sees on his timeline for at least two weeks. But he’s not angry, he’s so happy that he gets to share your happiness with the world.

~~~

a/n: thank you for reading :D

#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #f1 daughter #lando norris daughter

701 notes · View notes

anniflamma · 2 days ago

Note

AnniFlamma, we all love your fanart and animatics of Epic: The Musical, please don't let a few shitty people demotivate when 100x those people love and adore the stuff you make, along with all other animators!

Stay safe and take care, we will always be here and I can't seem to repeat this enough but we love your art

Thank you and everyone for reaching out to me. I will be honest with you all that what happened did upset me a lot, but I am very lucky to have people to go to for support. I will even blame some of them for making me cry, my friends, I mean, because if I am upset and if someone asks me if I am okay, I just break down. 😅 But I used our little server as a ground to vent, and right now I feel much better now.

But I will still be honest that I meant what I said that my interest in making Epic fan content has reduced a lot. I still love Epic, and I still really want to do the whole Ithaca saga, but I have also realized that posting content about it has caused me to feel anxious.

An example is when I finished The Challenge animatic, I felt an extreme wave of anxiety when I was going to press the upload button. And the worst thing? My anxiety confirmed the fears. I have gotten tiktok comments saying that I am a freak for drawing Penelope nude despite it being in a non-sexual way. Apparently, I have to be constantly reminded that female bodies are icky and the world hates women. Aaaaaaand then to get hit by that TikTok video of thousands of people shitting on me, Duvetbox, Gigi, Mircy, Neal, and so many more…

If you have noticed, I have posted less, all types of content for Epic. I don’t do my headcanons anymore, I never wrote that full review of Epic, I feel less keen on drawing fanart, let alone joking about shipping here online. I remember when I made a joke about shipping Aphrodite and Athea because they were the only female characters interacting with each other (ignoring Hera), and then I took it as a critique that Epic failed the Bechdel test. After that, I got plenty of anonymous messages about how I am an evil person for shipping those two goddesses… Just say that you don’t know what the Bechdel test is and block me... 😑

I also hate how my first negative experience with the Epic fandom was pure homophobia toward my Bible animatics. Like, they used negative language toward gay people to tell me to make Epic content instead. There is this weird obsession where people expect me and other artists to only do one thing, which is Epic, and if we dare to do something else, we get punished or infantilized, like we didn’t have any say when Casper commissioned us for Stories of Styx. Don’t get me started on how fucking awful people were to Casper and Teagan….

I hate how people easily tell others things, only for them to unquestionably believe everything said about me. Like the amount of "Anni made Ody/Circe porn, uwaaaa!!" And then, the moment someone questions them and forces them to realize I never made such a thing, they double down and say that I shouldn't have made Circe nude in the original animatic "cuz female bodies are icky" or the classic "Well, I haven’t seen the porn video, but someone told me it existed, so I’m going to believe it exsits." Like, you could tell these people that the sky is green, and they would believe you.

Then there’s that whole "Anni supports rape" or "Anni felt bad for the suitors and wanted Penelope to get raped" insanity. Those quotes stems from ppl was crashing out when I made a post criticizing Epic’s way of addressing the topic of rape. In that post, I was suggesting that I would like the story better if Odysseus were actually morally ambiguous when killing the suitors. How could anyone even think Ody was in the wrong for killing the suitors because he wanted to protect Penelope? How can he be a monster after that? I don’t know, I support a husband protecting his wife from gang rapists, but I guess that was the worst thing for me to ever say, huh? Like, how dare I criticize their almighty Jorge…

It’s insane that I have an easier time handling hateful Christians compared to TikTok Epic fans. 😅

Oh well... I’ve had so many bad experiences with the TikTok Epic fandom over the past two years. And eventually, you just want to log off.

I’m thinking of stopping posting Epic content at all on TikTok as a first step. If TikTok Epic fans hate my fanart that much, then I’ll do them the favor of never seeing it from my account. I will, however, continue posting my Bible animatics there. And if I continue working on my Hold Them Down animatic and if I ever finish it… I will only be active here on Tumblr and on YouTube.

And so, at this moment, I will take a pause from Epic. It probably won’t be that long because, despite everything, I love that musical. But I also have to remind myself that, despite there being so many negative remarks toward not only me but the other artists, there is a lot of love from you actual fans. I have about 138K subscribers on YouTube. That’s 138K individuals who love my work so much that they want to see more of it. THAT IS TOTALY INSANE! And I will never forget that! And I am so thankful for all of you and your support. Thank you and I love you guys! 💕

I’m also planning on making a better-formulated post about this another day. All of this is just me ranting and want to take a short break, focusing on something else.... Maybe... Venice the musical? 😅

#asks #epic the musical #epic the musical fandom #Sorry I was planning on making this post short but I had so much stuff in my mind I wanted to get out

476 notes · View notes

lvl1l1 · 2 days ago

Text

LaDS men when you get flowers from someone else

pairings: Sylus, Rafayel, Xavier, Caleb, Zayne x F!Reader(separate)

content: jealousy, fluff, caleb and xavier are a teensy bit insane, charlie taking another L

Sylus

You two decided to spend the weekend at your apartment, he obviously wouldn’t be caught dead showing up empty handed.

As you open the door, the first thing you see is a beautifully arranged bouquet of camellias and carnations. The second is the smug grin on your boyfriend’s face, which is wiped right off as soon as he steps into your living room and notices the pathetically small bouquet you had already hosted in a vase.

“Kitten, was your budget for those flowers chump change and a dream? You should’ve known, I’d bring you a little something.”

Once you tell him, that those were a gift from a co-worker for helping him out, his demeanour shifts slightly, unnoticeable to the untrained eye. Luckily, you were the one person who could see right through him.

Not like that mattered, when he went to grab his phone before you could even say anything. You see him tap around a little before raising it to his ear, speaking into the device.

“Yeah, I want them all delivered.”

You look at him with furrowed brows and he finally went back to paying attention to you. A sharp smile makes its way to his face.

“I don’t mind you leaving these, to put it bluntly, sad flowers here. They’ll make all the bouquets i’m getting you stand out even more.”

The unimpressed stare you give him, clearly doesn’t phase him, as he just walks into your bedroom, pulling you along.

“You deserve only the best, the biggest and the grandest. For everything.”

“You’re almost winning me over, Sy. But shouldn’t we wait until those poor florists actually deliver whatever ridiculous amount of flowers you ordered?”

At that, Sylus pulled you closer, nuzzling his face into your hair,

“The flowers will be fine waiting outside of your door. It’ll also be a nice way to send a message to everyone living in this apartment complex. Now, how about a lesson in why you shouldn’t accept flowers from other men?”

You sigh first, suddenly going rigid as a realisation hits you,

“I don’t have enough vases. Or even space for more flowers!”

Being the last thing you mumbled before your bedroom door closed with a ‘click’.

Rafayel

You two were out running some errands together, grabbing art supplies for him, groceries and what-not.

Linkon City was as lively as ever, a melting pot for diverse people. You and Rafayel held hands, pushing through the crowd.

Rafayel was about to pull you into another store, when you’re stopped by a man.

He’s holding a small bouquet of red roses and smiles at you, not looking at Rafayel,

“Hi, miss. We’re giving out free flowers today, these are for you.”

You feel Rafayel squeeze your hand and you know he’s glaring without even looking at him,

“Oh, thank you but I don’t-“

The man practically shoves the flowers into your free hand,

“I insist. Have a good day!”

And with that, he turns and leaves you standing there holding the small bouquet.

A hum leaves your throat, shrugging and leaning in to smell the flowers, before you’re stopped by your boyfriend.

“Why would you accept these ugly flowers? There’s no artistic flair, just basic roses and their stems aren’t even cut evenly! Honestly, It’s like he’s trying to harass my girlfriend by making her look at something so hideous. Besides, you have a rich boyfriend capable of making you a wayyy better bouquet standing right here.”

You narrow your eyes at him, lips curling upwards, leaning closer to him,

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

Rafayel’s eyes widened at that, mouth falling open slightly,

“These are clearly just for a campaign, he’s just working. I wouldn’t have accepted them otherwise, don’t worry.”

Your boyfriend jutted out his lower lip, taking the bouquet out of your hand. He made the flowers go up in flames and before you could react he pulled you towards the nearest flower shop.

“Doesn’t matter. My girlfriend deserves flowers as pretty as her. I’m arranging this bouquet myself and it’ll be the prettiest you’ve ever seen!”

You playfully roll your eyes at his antics but you couldn’t help but appreciate his effort. So, you let him pull you along.

Xavier

It was date night and you and Xavier decided to go to your usual hotpot place. You were waiting outside of your apartment building for him, as he went to grab his wallet that he had forgotten at his place.

You were leaning against the gate, when a familiar voice suddenly called out to you,

“Oh, hey! I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Charlie walked up to you, you flashed him a little smile as you noticed the flowers he was holding.

“Someone brought me these at the bakery today! They look nice, don’t you think?”

You nodded curtly, not wanting to talk to him for too long, knowing Xavier might see.

Not taking the hint, Charlie’s face lit up, an idea flashing through his mind, not having learned anything from your last interaction.

“Hey, why don’t you take them? I don’t really have a place for them anyway.”

Not waiting for your reply, he pushed the bouquet towards you. Hesitantly, you take them,

“I don’t think this is a good idea-“

He waved you off and went to walk inside.

You stared at the flowers, biting your lips, thinking of what to do before Xavier returned.

You knew it was too late once you noticed the streetlights flickering and an ominous presence manifesting behind you.

“Throw them away.”

You quickly straightened your posture, turning around with a teasing smile,

“Hey there, Xav.”

“Throw them away.”

He repeated in a serious tone.

A sigh left you,

“I was planning on doing that anyway. Don’t you think it’d be a waste though?”

Xavier shook his head, a stern expression on his usually neutral face.

“Doesn’t matter, they’re ugly anyway. Besides, who gives away a gift they received? He’s got no shame.”

You raised an eyebrow at him,

“Why didn’t you come out earlier, if you were here already?”

He came closer, taking the flowers out of your grasp, not answering. He teleported over to the dumpsters, throwing the flowers in.

“I’ll get you prettier ones. Ones that actually mean something.”

You met him halfway and grabbed his hand,

“Alright. But let’s get going, before we miss our reservation.”

Xavier’s expression finally softened, a small smile making its way to his face as he looked at you.

You two started walking, you started talking to him about your day and he listened, nodding along.

Luckily, you didn’t notice how the entire buildings lights suddenly went out. He was gonna deal with that evil baker later.

Caleb

Caleb just got done cooking, when he finally heard a knock on his door.

You had finally gotten some days off after a gruelling week filled with missions back to back and you were staying with him in Skyhaven.

He was planning on helping you relax the entire time you were going to be with him. He would cook for you, take you wherever you wanted to go and monopolise your attention.

The brunet happily opened the door, immediately greeting you with a hug,

“Pipsqueak, I gave you the key to my place for a reason. You don’t have to knock.”

You giggled at him, walking inside and taking your shoes off with one hand.

That’s when he noticed the flowers you were holding, he cocked his head, not saying anything.

“Oh, a friend of mine gave these to me right before I left! Do you have a vase we could put them in?”

Caleb’s brows furrowed, his eyes darkening slightly.

“What was the occasion? These aren’t even your favourite flowers. Would expect them to be thoughtful, when pulling off a gesture like this.”

You looked at him, amused.

“Caleb, they’re just flowers. From someone who’s just a friend.”

He walked into the living room with you, looking at the bouquet like it personally offended him.

“Well, seems like we’ll have to take the bouquet apart, pipsqueak. Your friend put iris and chrysanthemums together. Vastly different vase life, would be bad if we put them together. Might as well throw them out, honestly. I’ll get you flowers that actually survive together.”

He didn’t miss the scepticism on your face as you put the bouquet on the coffee table. You walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Caleb, honey, you don’t need to let it out on the flowers, they’re innocent. My friend was just trying to be nice but if they bother you, we can throw them away.”

His hands found your waist, as he looked at you with those eyes, resembling a kicked puppy.

“But if you like them…”

You shook your head,

“They’re just flowers. You can just get me some. Or even better, I’ll bring you some next time!”

His face lit up again, pressing your foreheads together,

“You don’t need to bring me flowers, pips. That’s my job! Besides, I actually know which flowers you like, I’d never just carelessly put a bouquet together.”

You looked up at him through your lashes, realising what he was pulling,

“Caleb, you-“

He picked you up and brought you over to the kitchen, putting you down on the counter.

“Too late, you already agreed.”

He winked at you, and you noticed something fly out the window through your peripheral vision.

“Now, let’s eat and after that I’ll take you out shopping. We’ll pick up some flowers on the way.”

Zayne

Zayne was just finishing up the last of his work at the hospital, when he received a text from you,

“ahhh i just saw them, love the flowers zaynie! thank you so much”

He stared at his phone in confusion, trying to think of a response,

“What are you talking about, love?”

You sent him a picture of a bouquet of amaryllis, followed up by a text,

“they’re so pretty! they were just delivered, thank u<3”

His fingers twitched, as he left his office, making his way to his car.

“Leave them on the table. I’ll be home soon.”

With that, he put his phone away and got in his car.

You were slightly confused at Zayne’s last text but did as he said.

Once you heard keys turn in the lock, you quickly walked over to the door to welcome your boyfriend.

The door pushed open and your boyfriend walked inside, you noticed his bag wasn’t the only thing he was holding.

He presented you with a bouquet of your favourite flowers, before he even took off his coat.

“…welcome back, dear.”

The confusion in your voice evident, still accepting the flowers gratefully.

Zayne quietly took off his shoes and hung up his coat, pressing a kiss to your temple before walking into the kitchen.

“These flowers…”

He picked them off the table and glanced at them.

“They were delivered, yes? Did a note come with them?”

You went to stand next to him, holding the bouquet he just brought you,

“Nope. I’ll take it, those aren’t from you?”

He let out an affirmative hum,

“What do you say, we gift these to the elderly lady next door? And you find a vase for the ones I got you.”

“Sounds good! Just… who do you think sent these?”

His gaze met yours and his eyes lit up with affection for you.

“I’m not sure but I intent to find out. I can’t just stand by and watch as someone tries to make the woman I love swoon.”

You chuckled at that, switching to holding the bouquet he got you with one hand, caressing his face with your other,

“No one besides you could ever make me swoon, Zayne.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes,

“I know. Still, I won’t let this slide. I want you to be happy over things that are actually from me.”

At that, you press a sweet kiss to his lips. He was just so lovely.

619 notes · View notes

blueberrisdove-sideblog · 3 days ago

Note

[🤍] idk if you’re still doing your bully series (apologies if you’re not), but imagine bully! Mydei and Phainon shoving reader into their locker and just fingering and teasing their pussy until they squirt 😔

Even better if the bullies get momentarily distracted by someone passing by and missed the moment the reader squirted, so they have no choice but to overstim them again 😔😔

CRY ALL DAY GIRL, minors do not interact.

❧ tws : nsfw/smut, dubcon, fem!reader, breeding kink, double penetration (vaginal & anal), rough sēx, dubcon, nipple play, humiliation, cock-drunk reader, multiple of orgasms, squirting, predator x prey dynamic and reader implied to be chubby.

❧ synopsis : Cornered in the locker room by two predators who’ve made a game out of breaking you, you—an anxious, nerd—find yourself trapped between Mydei and Phainon. They’ve teased you before, called you names, made your heart race for all the wrong reasons. But now? They’re done playing. Rough, relentless, and far too big for your soft body, they use your silence as permission to ruin you—teasing, fingering, and forcing pleasure out of you until you're squirting down Phainon’s wrist and moaning into Mydei’s mouth.

The door slams behind you before you even realize they’ve followed you in.

You whirl around, heart leaping into your throat—but it’s too late. Mydei’s already throwing the lock behind him with a dull click, his massive frame blocking the only exit. Phainon stands beside him, taller, quieter, but the glint in his eyes is anything but passive.

They don’t say anything right away.

Just look at you. Trapped between rows of empty lockers, still clutching your books to your chest, still wearing that oversized cardigan and that dumb little skirt like it offers any kind of protection. Mydei’s smirk spreads slowly, cruelly, and you feel your stomach drop.

“We weren’t done talking,” he says, his voice low, lazy. “Thought you could just run off?”

Phainon chuckles behind him. “She always runs. That’s half the fun.”

You back up instinctively, but there’s nowhere to go. Mydei advances first—step by heavy step—until he’s standing right in front of you. He reaches out, not suddenly, but deliberately, and plucks the books from your arms like they’re meaningless. Lets them fall to the floor with a thud.

You’re frozen.

“You gonna cry, nerd?” Mydei tilts his head. “Or are you gonna stop pretending you don’t want this?”

You open your mouth to speak—to argue, to protest—but Phainon is behind you now, so close you can feel the heat of him through your clothes. His hands skim your hips, then lower, fingers already brushing your thighs like he owns them. You jerk, trying to twist away, but he just leans in and murmurs:

“Every time you act like you’re scared… you get wetter.”

Mydei presses in from the front, crowding your body, and you feel Phainon’s hand slip higher under your skirt—slow, unhurried, like this is something they’ve done a hundred times before. You’re sandwiched, caught between two bodies that are far too big, far too strong, and the worst part is the way your knees are already going weak.

“You gonna tell us to stop?” Mydei asks, dragging a knuckle along your jaw.

You should. You know that. But your voice doesn't come.

And they take that as permission.

Phainon’s fingers dig deeper into your plush thighs, his hands spanning wide as he presses your back against his chest. He hums low behind you, amused by how soft you are—how easily you fit between them. Mydei notices too. His eyes rake down your body with that cruel, hungry look that always makes your stomach knot.

“Fuckin’ soft little thing,” Mydei mutters, one hand sliding down to grip your waist, thick fingers curling into your softness. “Knew you were hiding all this under those ugly-ass sweaters.”

Phainon laughs against your ear. “She’s built for it, huh? All this meat—makes you wonder how many times she’s thought about being split open.”

You gasp when Phainon’s hand slips between your legs—shoving your thighs apart like he’s tired of pretending to be gentle. His fingers press against the damp cotton there, and the sound he makes is pure smug satisfaction.

“Dripping,” he whispers. “Knew it.”

“No way you’re scared, nerd,” Mydei adds, hooking a finger under your chin and forcing you to look up at him. “You’d be crying, not fucking drooling on my friend’s hand.”

The shame burns, but it’s hard to feel anything clearly when Phainon’s fingers push your panties aside and sink in—deep. Thick. Unforgiving. You whimper, knees buckling, and Mydei just chuckles darkly as he catches you.

You’re trapped between them, again. Caged. Held in place as Phainon starts working his fingers in brutal rhythm, thumb circling your clit with maddening precision, dragging raw little noises out of your mouth that don’t even sound like you anymore.

And Mydei just watches. Watches like he’s memorizing every twitch, every flush, every broken breath.

“She’s already close,” Phainon murmurs, and you are. God, you are. It’s too much—the heat, the pressure, the way they make you feel so small, so full, so—

“Don’t you dare hold it,” Mydei growls, dragging your lip down with his thumb. “Come all over his hand. Show us what kind of girl you really are.”

You shudder violently—and then it hits.

You squirt with a cry, thighs shaking, juices gushing over Phainon’s wrist and dripping down your inner thighs in messy streaks. Your whole body clenches, overwhelmed, overstimulated, and still Mydei doesn’t let go. He leans in, licking the sweat off your cheek like he owns it.

“Filthy little fuckpet,” he growls. “And we haven’t even started yet.”

You’re still twitching, thighs trembling from release when Mydei grabs you by the back of the neck and bends you over the bench like you weigh nothing. Your cheek hits the cold wood, breath ragged, body too slow to even protest as he pulls your panties the rest of the way off and tosses them somewhere behind you.

“Look at this mess,” he snarls. “Soaked and shaking—and we haven’t even fucked you yet.”

Phainon kneels in front of the bench, eyes fixed between your legs like he’s staring at a meal. He spreads you wider, thick hands gripping your thighs, thumbs dragging your slick folds open just to see the way you're still dripping from your orgasm.

“Bet she’s never been taken like this,” he says, almost reverently.

Mydei snorts. “She’s gonna learn.”

You flinch when something thick and hot presses against your entrance—Mydei’s cock, already heavy and hard, dragging against your folds, teasing you without easing in. He slaps it against your cunt once, then again, making you jolt and whimper from the sting. Then, with no warning, he shoves in. One deep, brutal thrust.

You scream—but it’s choked. It’s not a no. And they both hear it.

“Fuck,” Mydei groans through gritted teeth. “Tight little hole. You’re not gonna last a minimum.”

He doesn’t give you time to adjust. He fucks you rough, fast, the bench creaking under the force of it, your soft body jolting with every thrust. Phainon strokes your cheek from below, his gaze locked on your teary, dazed expression.

“You’re taking it so well,” he murmurs. “Didn’t think a nerd like you could handle this.”

You try to speak—maybe to tell them to stop, maybe to beg for more—but all that comes out is a broken moan. Mydei grabs your hips tighter, slamming into you so hard your toes curl, your breath punched out of your lungs.

“You feel that?” he pants. “That’s what happens when you don’t speak up. We do whatever the fuck we want.”

And you’re too far gone to stop them now.

Mydei’s thrusts become harder, faster, punishing. He’s relentless, slamming into you with the kind of aggression that leaves you breathless. But then Phainon moves in—his hands on your waist, his cock rubbing against your ass, thick and heavy.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?” Phainon’s voice is low, like velvet, but there’s no sweetness in his touch as he positions himself. You’re already so full, so stretched between them, but he doesn’t hesitate. He presses in.

The burn is excruciating—every inch of him filling you from behind while Mydei takes you from the front, stretching your soft, chubby body in ways you never imagined possible. You’re lost in the overwhelming sensations, pinned down under the weight of them both, helpless to do anything but take it.

Phainon grins as he pushes deeper, his cock sliding in with a thick, satisfying stretch. Mydei groans, his grip tightening on your hips, keeping you still as he drills into you harder, deeper.

“You’re taking both of us so well,” Mydei growls, his breath hot against your ear. “Can’t believe how fucking tight you are. You were made for this.”

You cry out when Phainon starts moving, the pressure building, pushing you closer to the edge again. They both fuck you like they own you, like you’re nothing but an object for their pleasure. The way they stretch you, make you feel so small, it drives you insane.

Mydei leans over you, his teeth grazing your neck, marking you as his. “This is what you wanted, right?” he growls. “Wanted to be filled by us, made to beg.”

You don’t know if it’s the pounding, the way your body can’t take it anymore, or the filthy words they keep whispering in your ear—but something breaks. Your body tenses, and you squirt again, juices soaking both of them, and you can’t even breathe. Your mind is a haze, cock-drunk, overwhelmed, and all you can do is take it.

And then, Mydei growls—deep, primal—as he spills inside you, filling you up with his seed, marking you as his. Phainon follows soon after, his own release filling your other hole, making sure you feel every inch of them both as they breed you until you're crying out in overstimulation.

They pull out, leaving you gasping, trembling, a mess of cum dripping down your thighs, but it doesn’t matter. You’re not allowed to move.

“You’ll remember this,” Mydei mutters, still panting. “Every fucking time you look at us.”

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

567 notes · View notes

sunrizef1 · 2 days ago

Text

August Part 2 - September

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader, Mason Mount x Reader

Warnings: none

Requested: Yes!/No

Authors Note: part 1 was supposed to be the only part but damn y'all rly wanted a part 2 | Charles is winning the poll as I post this I will provide proof don't fight me

Part 1

——

ynln

🎵Superglue - ROLE MODEL

liked by lando sabrinacarpenter and 3,777,101 others

ynln a lil bit of superglue, stick by my side

tagged: zendaya masonmount championsleague judebellingham liverpoolfc rolemodel & carmenmundt

load comments…

user1 cute asf

rolemodel its crazy how ur just so obsessed with me

ynln I'm deleting that picture

rolemodel :(

user2 all my favs in one post

lando this is a photo dump and I've seen you in the past two weeks how am I not in this

user3 missing the f1 days 😔✊

user4 Jude!!!!!

user5 amazing how Tucker is just everywhere

user6 love this aesthetic

user7 sorry???? Can we talk about Carmen being tagged on the last slide????

user8 right like what does that mean

user9 these divas

judebellingham if Madrid isn't ur favourite why am I in every post

liked by author

user10 why does every person she takes a picture of look at her like they're in love with her

user11 id be in love with her too tf

user12 sue me but I prefer Yn with football than f1

user13 this is so adorable

load more comments…

——

ynln added to their story

liverpoolfc liked your story ♥️

——

TWITTER

——

INSTAGRAM

ynln added to their story

rolemodel liked your story ♥️

dualipa liked your story ♥️

lando liked your story ♥️

maxfewtrell liked your story ♥️

masonmount liked your story ♥️

trentarnold66 liked your story ♥️

judebellingham liked your story ♥️

charles_leclerc liked your story ♥️

——

TWITTER

——

INSTAGRAM

ynln

🎵 the one - Taylor Swift

liked by carmenmundt lando and 3,444,879 others

ynln I'm doin’ good I'm on some new shit

tagged: judebellingham logansargeant masonmount & lewishamilton

load comments…

user14 oh this is adorable

user15 the song????

user16 it would've been fun if you would've been the one????

rolemodel why am I not in this

ynln get out of my comments

user17 LEWIS??????

user18 is that Logan???? What the hell????

user19 soft launch???

user20 the flowers wrapped in newspaper…. Oh someone is into herrrrr

lewishamilton that's a damn good picture of me

liked by author

user21 the Polaroids are so cute

user22 bf core 🤩

user23 her friends are so fun and they have such a cute bond wth

judebellingham ew why does it look like I'm in love with you delete this

ynln delete yourself that's the nicest you've ever been to me

user24 can we revisit the Logan mention????

user25 is this her reconnecting with f1….

user26 Lewis 🤩

user27 this is a soft launch! 🤔

user28 so do we all agree that Charles is the person yn was talking about in the roundtable

user29 had to have been him

user29 he was definitely August boy as well

user30 right cuz the vacations and soft launches being at the exact same time and with the aesthetics

user30 and the fact that Charles got right back with his gf after summer and yn keeps posting August by Ts.… ik what this is

——

charles_leclerc added to their story

ynln liked your story ♥️

——

TWITTER

——

MESSAGES

——

TWITTER

——

INSTAGRAM

ynln

🎵 August - Taylor Swift

liked by charles_leclerc masonmount and 4,555,077 others

ynln its august again

load comments…

user31 this feels important

user32 ooh aesthetic

user33 Europe?? In August??? I'm getting flashbacks

user34 ohhh I'm getting memories of this time last year

user35 August is slipping back

rolemodel i know what this is

ynln if the comments on this post go away just know it was your fault

user36 who took slide two.

user37 that third picture is so pretty

user38 personally I'm looking at the second one 🤩

user39 her including the song that she took lyrics from after her and Charles broke up is so important to me

user40 love that we've just decided that that's what happened

user41 god the lighting in these pics is insane 😫🫶

masonmount 🫶🏻

liked by author

user42 her saying that's its August again which means she's back to what last August was like with Charles 😫

user43 how are the comments still on 😭

lando text me back

ynln no

user44 I can't handle this

user45 I'm going to lose it 🤩

zendaya 😚

liked by author

user46 Charles liked this

sabrinacarpenter I'm in love with you

ynln 😫🫶

——

TWITTER

——

INSTAGRAM

ynln added to their story

charles_leclerc liked your story ♥️

lando liked your story ♥️

maxverstappen1 liked your story ♥️

maxverstappen1 replied to your story!

maxverstappen1

come interview me 😁

ynln

Fine lol

maxverstappen1 loved a message ♥️

——

TWITTER

——

MESSAGES

——

INSTAGRAM

ynln added to their story

——

TWITTER

——

INSTAGRAM

ynln

🎵 September - Earth, Wind, and Fire

liked by charles_leclerc zendaya and 6,578,999 others

ynln do you remember? The 21st night of September?

tagged: charles_leclerc

load comments…

user47 OMG?????!!!!

rolemodel thank GOD!

liked by author

user47 Charles?????

judebellingham FINALLY

liked by author

user48 I've never been so happy

lando took you long enough

liked by author

user49 we used to pray for times like this

zendaya only took 13 whole months

liked by author

user50 omg just a hard launch now

user51 no more of that vague-posting bs

maxverstappen1 oh yay

liked by author

user52 max being nonchalant I cant

carmenmundt congratulations!

liked by author

ynln love you 🫶

user53 do you remember….? The 21st (7th) night of September?

user54 using September (a song about love) after using August (a song about lost love) ooh what if I go insane

lewishamilton 🫶

liked by author

ynln 🫶

user55 even the hard launch is aesthetic

user56 this post is so pretty

user57 the red piano 😭

dualipa happy for you 💕

liked by author

user58 yn!!!!!!

charles_leclerc only blue talk and love, remember

ynln how we knew love was here to stay…

charles_leclerc ❤️

liked by author

ynln ❤️💋

——

Tags: @star73807-blog @leclerc16s @jkoooooooookie @imagine-it-was-us @weekendlusting @linnygirl09 @sarah-thatstings-ann @putherup @meadhbhcavanagh @luvrrish @suns3treading @lightdragonrayne @mxm47max @casperlikej @evie-119

556 notes · View notes

heesimp · 2 days ago

Note

Stepdad hoon fucks his step daughter EVERYWHERE on his huge yacht while his wife is back at the beach house

something about stepdad!hoon…

+++++

Sunghoon is no stranger to the feeling of your lips littering his neck with kisses while he’s driving his boat. Your mouth tries to distract him from concentrating when it comes to leaving the dock onto open waters, hands trailing down the divots of his chest and abdomen while one of his arms lazily wraps around your waist with his palm on your asscheek.

He squeezes you when the boat anchors in still water. The sun is high and the sky is clear with no interruption for miles on end. Sunghoon’s wife elected not to go out today, instead choosing to tan in the comfort of his ginormous beach house because of sea sickness.

When the two of you make your way onto the dock, Sunghoon pushes you until your body faces the water. He squeezes your hip and softly bites your jawline. You feel his hair tickle your cheek and bite your lip when Sunghoon pushes his bulge against your ass.

“Finally got you all to myself,” he mumbles, trailing his lips down your neck while his right hand cups your pussy over your tiny bikini.

“So hard and we haven’t even done anything.” You giggle and push yourself back against him. Sunghoon shoves his hand further between your legs and forces them apart, making you stumble against his chest. Your feet part slightly while he untied the strings until they fall to the floor.

“Got me hard walking in this bikini, baby. I could see your pussy from a mile away.”

“Don’t you like staring at my pussy?” You turn around and give him doe-eyes, which makes him groan and rush to kiss your warm lips.

“Love it so much,” he mutters against you. His fingers rub your wet slit as he pushes his swimming trunks down to free his cock while he steps out of them.

Sunghoon slots his big, throbbing dick in between your legs until his engorged tip nudges your clit. It makes you gasp and clutch onto the metal railing for balance. He bends his knees just enough to catch the perfect angle and grips your hip as he slowly rocks himself back and forth, grinding his dick between your slick folds.

“Been thinking ‘bout this all damn week,” he moans. “Can’t get enough of you. Love this sexy fucking body.”

“Do you love my body or do you love me?” Sunghoon hears you giggle and watches you arch your back. He leans forward and kisses your lips seductively while pushing his tongue inside of your mouth, and you eagerly lap up the spit that falls from the two of you.

“Love you, baby.”

“I love you, Daddy.”

He squeezes your hips and thrusts himself against your pussy.

“Love that you let me take you like this in public,” he groans while picking up the pace, his fingers digging into your skin. “You’re such a good girl for letting me do whatever I want to you.”

The front of his thighs meet the back of yours as you squeeze your thighs to entrap his huge dick between your legs. It makes him moan and it makes you significantly wetter.

He parts your legs quickly and impales you with his cock without a verbal warning. Your voice seems to echo through the air as your throat rips out one loud, vocal moan that makes Sunghoon grunts deeply behind you. His hips piston in and out of your slick pussy to the point where his cock threatens to disappear from your tight hole because of the brutal pace he’s set.

Your grip on the railing tightens as Sunghoon fucks you harder. You spread both of your feet apart for better balance and Sunghoon follows suit, bending his knees to hammer his hard dick into you until a string of moans erupts from the back of your throat.

“Keep being loud, honey,” he grunts. “No one’s here to catch us fucking. Moan as loud as you want. Let Daddy know how good he’s making you feel.”

“S-So fucking good—ah!!”

The tip catches your cervix and you’re cumming around him instantly. Sunghoon smirks and lets his mouth hang open when you mumble incoherently about how good his cock is, how big he feels, and how much you love it when he makes you cum. His chest fills with warmth when he looks down to see your asscheeks bouncing against his pelvis and your cum painting his dick. It doesn’t take long for him to finish inside of you too, shooting his hot sperm inside of your tight hole the more he keeps thrusting.

It becomes a game that day, too. Sunghoon fucks you on the bench of the dock with your hands and knees above a towel, then takes you to the private quarters to fuck you with his body pressed right on top of yours. You don’t get to tan peacefully in quiet too, because your naked body temps Sunghoon to the point where he’s spreading your legs and licking your pussy like he might never get to do it again after today.

And his wife is none the wiser. The two of you come home after hours of being under the sun with dinner prepared while your bikini bottom hides all of the cum stains he’s left on your pussy.

#enhypen smut #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon smut #enha hard thoughts #enha smut #enha hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours

512 notes · View notes

bizarrelovetriangel · 3 days ago

Text

interruptions.

all he wants is to have you all to himself but everyone keeps getting in his way.

fluff and slightly suggestive. brief references to chaotic velocity and his myth.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

He groans against your lips as his hands caresses your hips, urging you to grind against his thighs.

His bedroom is silent apart from the sounds of your exchange of heated kisses, your heavy breaths in-between, as well as the rustling of your clothes as your bodies yearn for friction.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Sylus thrusted up to let you feel his excitement, and you responded by palming him through his pants, earning a low growl from his parted lips.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

You pulled away as the ringtone of his phone blares closely next to you. You gave him a look before he pinches his temples and reaching for the device on his night stand.

"You better have a good reason to interrupt me on such an important time."

This is the third time in just two days.

Sylus doesn't know how much more interruptions he can take.

"Looks like I'll have to cut our time short again." Sylus frowns as he gets up from the bed. "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Don't worry about it."

Being Onychinus' leader can be demanding, so you're not mad at him at all. In fact, at the moment, you're doing your best to hold back a laugh.

"Before you leave, maybe take a cold shower first."

Two days later, as you were leaving your workplace, you ran into your lover who's dressed in his favorite leather jacket, bathing in darkness.

"Sylus?! What are you doing here?"

It's the middle of the week. You usually don't get to see each other until the weekends, unless spontaneous plans come up. You figured this is one of those special cases.

"Do I need a reason to see my girlfriend?"

"No, but you do need to be cautious when picking up said girlfriend from her job, which may or may not be interested in catching some suspicious people who love lurking in the shadows."

There's not an ounce of worry in his eyes at all. "Luckily, I have a strong kitten who'd protect me should anyone dare to put their hands on me."

You playfully punched his arm as you walked next to him. "You could've at least texted me."

"A surprise usually works out only if someone doesn't know what'll happen." He then taps your head. "There's a restaurant that I've been meaning to check out. Want to come?"

Your heart and stomach cheered happily, deeming him as your savior. After all, you're starving after such a long day at work. "Of course!"

Around ten at night, dinner was done and you ended up relaxing at an empty, quiet park. You sat down on a bench surrounded by red flowers and you rested your head on his left arm while he holds your right hand.

At first, the two of you enjoyed the moment of silence and appreciated each other's warmth and company.

You could've fallen asleep then and there.

If only Sylus didn't start leaving kisses all over your face. He dropped them one by one, slowly and softly, as if you're something precious that could vanish at any second if he isn't careful enough.

As his lips pressed against yours, his right hand brushes up and down from your knee to your thigh, warming up your body during the cold night.

Sylus' ragged breaths urged you to deepen the kiss while caressing his face, though your makeout session was short-lasted as a group of chatty, cackling teenagers had decided to hit up the very spot that you two are in.

Clicking his tongue, Sylus stood up and reached out one hand for you. "I guess this is our sign to leave. Shall we?"

"Yeah."

You couldn't even bother to hide your disappointment that your time together was once again shortened.

He came with you back at your apartment, though Sylus couldn't stay the night due to plans he has later on.

He wasn't even supposed to see you tonight; he forced it in his busy schedule because his urge to see you was just unbearably strong during these past few days, and the constant interruptions are absolutely not helping.

It's as if the world is purposely getting in the way.

The next interruption came during dinner at a restaurant that you and Sylus have been wanting to visit for months. You made a reservation two weeks ago, and you got to enjoy all the delicious meals and drinks that made the place worthy of Sylus' attention.

You were given the best seats in the restaurant, which would be the special table on the rooftop, decorated with dimmed, beautiful lights to illuminate the dark night, and flowers for your eyes and nose to feast on.

As you were finishing up your wine, you walked towards the edge of the rooftop to observe the scenery around you.

For a moment, Sylus remained seated, only shifting his position so that he could admire you in your beautiful dress.

It's one of his favorite views — you facing away from him, eyes beaming with happiness and lips curled into a soft smile, completely lost in the scenery around you and unaware of how bewitching you are and the trance that you always put him in.

He'll never get tired of it.

"Sylus, look!"

At your call, he appears behind you and immediately wraps his arms around your waist. He gave you a light kiss on the shoulder before moving his gaze to wherever you were pointing at.

Unfortunately, Sylus never got to learn what caught your interest because suddenly, you received signals that a Wanderer is nearby.

And so, dinner ended early and you spent the rest of your energy jumping in action.

The Wanderers certainly became Sylus' punching bags for the night.

At last, you finally won some time to spend in the N109 Zone.

You're at his house and you've just finished eating the dessert that you two made together a few hours ago.

And now, you find yourself trapped against the counter table with Sylus blocking all the ways to escape.

"Can't run from me now, kitten."

His lips touched yours.

"Boss, look what we found!"

"...."

"....oops..."

"...sorry!"

Luke and Kieran were frozen by the entrance of the kitchen, almost dropping the fancy looking weapon they were carrying.

You let out a laugh to break the silence. "Hey guys!"

Sylus sighs defeateadly. He did acknowledge the twins and the gift they brought to him by giving them a quick but sincere "well done" before turning back to you with a certain glint in his eyes. "I hope you're up for a midnight ride."

"Wait what?!"

He took your left hand and started leading you out of the kitchen.

"Right now?!"

Luke and Kieran only gave you a wave of their hands, still feeling guilty about the interruption. Sylus didn't look mad at them, but he does look frustrated.

Whatever he has planned out with you, they know not to interrupt. Even Mephisto stayed still after giving you a look.

"Here."

Sylus helped you put on a black and red helmet that matches the one he's about to wear.

You eyed the motorcycle and couldn't hold back your excitement.

"Blackrose Archfiend!"

The half-black, half-pink motorcycle with the trademark of a golden crow made you recall the first time you and Sylus rode it and race against other motorcyclists.

"It's been a while!"

Sylus smirks proudly. "I modified it again. I meant for us to test it out tomorrow when we have more time, but this is gonna be our ticket to peace and quiet so we'll use it now."

"Ticket to peace and quiet?"

He ascends the motorcycle and turns on its engine before reaching out a gloved hand for you, inviting you to join him.

"Will you let me be selfish for a little while?"

With a soft smile, you took his hand and sat behind him, holding onto his waist.

You didn't care where he'll take you or how long it'll take to get there.

Your heart races at the adrenaline rush from the roar and speed of the motorcycle, and the cold wind dances all around you as you dart across the moonlit, empty roads of the N109 Zone.

A high mountain roadside, underneath the stars.

That's where you ended up in.

Other than the noises made by the animals that live in the surroundings, there's absolutely no other sounds that'll disturb the comfortable, peaceful silence.

The only light source you have is the full moon right above you, but that's more than enough for you to see the look of content in Sylus' face.

His features are highlighted in such a way that makes him look like an artwork that deserves to be admired by many, and yet you're the only lucky one to see him like this at this.

"You're staring, sweetie."

"And what about it?"

He smiled and scooted closer to you so that your arms are overlapping as you sit on a giant boulder planted deeply on the ground.

"That means I get to stare at you as much as I want in return, right?"

You held up one hand in front of your face and used it as a wall to block his intense gaze. "No!" The way he gazes at you makes your stomach want to explode with various emotions.

No matter how long you've been together, he never fails to make you flustered as if it's just the beginning of your relationship.

Sylus laughed at your hand before intertwining his fingers with yours and putting your conjoined hands on your lap.

"You're mine for the rest of the evening, sweetie. Any objections?

You shook your head, melting at his words. "Not at all."

Despite your playful rejection earlier, Sylus' eyes were unable to keep away from you, finding you more entrancing than anything around you. While he could look at the moon, the stars, and the city lights, he can always see them every night.

He can't say the same for you.

Once upon a time ago, he lost you and you lost him. It was like having your entire world ripped away from you.

The day he found you again... he'll never forget the way that it felt. It was like seeing light for the first time in forever. Like gasping for air after holding your breath for so long.

He's reminded of how lucky he is to be given a second chance of a life with you. Even though he complains about the distance between your homes and your jobs sometimes get in the way of your plans, he'll always be grateful that he can spend any time with you at all.

He'll always cherish every second with you, and he will never take you for granted.

You didn't keep track of the time at all. You two sat there and enjoyed each other's presence, talking about whatever comes up in your head while admiring the stars above and the lights of the N109 Zone from below.

There were times when you two would pause your conversations and just embrace the silence, bringing nothing but comfort that made you want to cuddle — and you did.

At some point, your body had been enveloped by his arms. You're seated between his legs and your back is against his chest. You could feel his steady heartbeat that would occassionally lose its rhythm.

You're spared from the wind's icy kiss, but not from Sylus' warm, gentle ones.

It started off with him casually dropping kisses on random parts of your face. Sometimes, while you're in the middle of rambling, his lips will linger on your skin and you'd forget everything that you were about to say.

Then, his kisses gradually became more fierce. From the moment he fixated on your neck, you'd become a mess that's unable to talk.

After leaving a couple of marks, Sylus wore a satisfied grin before diving into your lips with his own.

He kissed you over and over and over again, taking full advantage of the isolation. Finally, no one can interrupt.

No one can take you away from him ever again.

#happy sylus week!#love and deepspace #sylus #sylus x reader #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads #sylus lads #lads sylus #lnds #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader #lynnsfics

567 notes · View notes

itsxarien · 3 days ago

Text

how bad do u want me | natalie scatorccio x reader

“Cause you like my hair, my ripped-up jeans, you like the bad girl i got in me.”

SUMMARY: After a quiet conversation with Coach Ben in the wilderness, you come to a realization about yourself that you’ve been avoiding for a long time - you’re in love with your best friend, Natalie Scatorccio.

warnings: nsfw, smut with plot, slight angst!

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

The fire was dying again.

You and Coach Ben sat across from it, the silence thick between you. Most nights, no one really talked anymore. But tonight—tonight felt heavy, like something needed to be said. You were chewing on a piece of dried something (you didn’t ask), half-listening to the hiss of the flames when he broke the silence.

“You ever been in love?”

The question felt like it came out of nowhere. You blinked at him. “What?”

He gave a tired shrug. “It’s the kind of question you think about a lot out here.”

You stared into the fire for a long time, the heat kissing your cheeks. “No,” you answered too quickly. Then, quieter: “At least, I don’t think so.”

Coach nodded, then said gently, “What about boys?”

“I dated some, but my heart was never really in it.”You shrugged, pulling your knees up to your chest. “It’s always been like that. I tried. I kissed them. I let them take me out. But it just felt like going through the motions. Like I was acting out a scene someone else wrote.”

He looked at you, not with judgment but with something like… curiosity. “So what does feel real to you?”

Your heart stuttered. The answer lived right there, under your tongue, ready to spill. And once you started talking, it didn’t stop.

And someone came in your mind.

Natalie.

You let out a long breath and started speaking, your voice softer than usual.

“When me and Natalie were younger… I don’t think I ever realized how much I needed Natalie. But there was always something between us, something I could never quite explain.” You paused, taking a moment to collect your thoughts. "When we were at my house, my mom would always be downstairs, cooking or doing something. And Natalie and I would go up to my room, lock the door, and just... be together."

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to find the right words. “We’d lie there in my bed, close, too close sometimes. I’d press my legs against hers, feeling the heat of her body next to mine.”

“I think I always knew, even back then, that I wanted more. But I didn’t know how to say it, how to make it real.”

Coach Ben stayed silent, watching you as you spoke. His presence was comforting, and yet, there was a pang in your chest as you relived those memories.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You and Natalie were sitting on her bed in the dim light of her room, the air thick with the smell of cigarette smoke and the faint aroma of her cheap perfume. The faint sound of music played low, something from the ‘80s. Queen, maybe? You weren’t sure, but the static from the speakers added to the feeling of everything being just a little bit hazy.

She was sprawled across her bed, one leg bent, the other stretched out lazily, her ripped jeans showing more skin than you'd care to admit. Her black eyeliner smudged just slightly, as it always did, and her messy hair framed her face in the way it always did—like she didn’t care, but still somehow looked like she owned the room.

You were sitting a little too stiffly beside her, in your usual outfit of pink, a fuzzy sweater and white skirt with a flower hairclip on top of your head. A stark contrast to her—the good girl, the one who was always so... perfect.

You were used to the way people looked at you both, always wondering how the two of you ended up as best friends. You were opposites in every way. You were the quiet, perfect girl, the one who sat in the front of class and smiled politely. She was loud, messy, always caught up in something she shouldn’t be.

Still, here you were. Side by side, as you always were. Yet tonight, something felt different. You could feel it in the air, that shift that always came before something bigger, something you weren’t ready for but knew was inevitable.

“I don’t get why you hang out with me, (Y/N),” she muttered, her voice laced with something you couldn’t quite place. She turned her head, her eyes searching yours for something—maybe an answer. "I'm trouble, you know that, right?"

You glanced at her, biting your lip. You always hated when she said things like that. Like she wasn’t worth it, like you weren’t worth being around her.

“You’re not trouble,” you said, though your voice was quieter than you intended. “You’re just... complicated. But I like complicated.”

She snorted, a sharp sound that made your heart flutter in an oddly comforting way. “Yeah, sure. You like it ‘cause you’re perfect. You’ve got everything together. I’m just a mess.”

That ache you were feeling deep in your chest earlier felt heavier now. The gap between the two of you was always there, but tonight it felt bigger, harder to ignore. You looked at her again, really looked at her. Natalie—your best friend, the one who you’d known for years, who knew you better than anyone else ever could.

“Maybe I like you because I’m not perfect,” you said, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “And I don’t want to be.”

There was a long pause as Natalie processed your words. She tilted her head slightly, watching you closely, and then a small, almost sad smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

“You’re so good to me, cupcake,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest at the nickname. That nickname. She only ever called you that when she was soft, when she wasn’t trying to hide the part of her that was vulnerable, even if she didn’t always let herself show it.

“I’m not... I’m not good,” you whispered back, your words shaky. You wanted to say more, but the words were stuck in your throat. "You... you’ve been through so much. And you—"

But Natalie cut you off with a shake of her head, her expression turning serious. “You’ve always been good, (Y/N),” she said, her voice like gravel. "You just don’t see it. You always help me, no matter what. You keep me from falling apart."

Her words hung in the air, and you could feel them pressing down on you, making everything feel heavier. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “You don’t have to let me in, you know? You can—"

“I’m not going anywhere,” she interrupted, her voice suddenly more forceful than before. She moved closer to you, her leg brushing against yours as she did. The proximity sent a jolt through your body, making your pulse quicken.

The closeness was something you both had always shared—laying side by side, pressing your legs together when you watched movies, when you talked about everything and nothing. But tonight, with everything hanging in the balance, it felt like so much more.

You stared at her for a long moment, the words you wanted to say stuck on your tongue. But then she spoke again, her voice quieter, more vulnerable this time.

“Promise me something,” she said, looking down at your intertwined legs. “Promise me you’ll never leave me. No matter how... messed up I get.”

You didn’t hesitate. “I promise.”

The air between you two felt thick now, like something unsaid was hanging there. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud yet. You couldn’t tell her what you were really feeling, not when the world seemed so uncertain.

You were so different. She was so different. And yet, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere but right here with her.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

“She kissed me once,” you admitted, pulling your legs closer to your face.

“Said it was practice."

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

Madonna crooned from the cassette player, half-muffled by your bedroom pillow.

Like a virgin… touched for the very first time…

Natalie was sprawled next to you, one foot crossed over the other. Her flannel was sliding off one shoulder, eyes smudged with the kind of liner she never wiped off before crashing at your place. She had a joint in hand, laughing at something stupid you’d said about math class.

“Wanna practice?” she asked, not looking at you.

“Practice what?”

She raised a brow. “Kissing.”

You thought she was joking. But then she rolled over onto her side, facing you, close enough to smell the weed and grape soda on her breath.

You hesitated. “Okay.”

She leaned in like it was nothing. Like you were the one being weird about it. Her lips brushed yours, soft, slow, as if she’d done it a hundred times.

You didn’t even move at first. You just felt it—this terrible, perfect spark crawling up your spine. You kissed her back, and it felt like falling. You wanted to cry, and you didn’t know why.

When she pulled back, she grinned.

You wanted her to do it again.

And she did, again and again.

When she kissed you, it wasn’t playful. Not really. It was slow, searching. Her tongue moved against yours like she was memorizing it.

Later, she had pulled back, breathless, eyes darker than the night.

“Damn,” she whispered. “They don’t kiss like that.”

You didn’t sleep that night.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

“She kissed me again, later,” you told Coach, your voice cracking. “A bunch of times. And then she touched me.”

You didn’t mean too say it out loud, but it was already gone. Out in the cold air, hanging there like smoke.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

It had been late, after another party, when she’d stumbled into your car, laughing. Her eyeliner smeared, her voice sticky sweet with whiskey.

“You’re always so soft,” she murmured, leaning against you in the passenger seat, cheek pressed to your shoulder.

“You’re always so loud,” you said back, trying to steady your voice even though your hands were trembling on the wheel.

She laughed and turned her head, eyes glassy, breath warm on your skin.

“You ever think maybe I’m loud ‘cause I don’t wanna hear myself think?”

You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t. Just drove her home in silence, the quiet between you almost unbearable.

That night, she left her bedroom door cracked open like she always did when she didn’t want to sleep alone. You followed, heart hammering like you were doing something wrong.

You helped her change. Her skirt was hitched too high, her shirt sliding down one shoulder. When she sat on the edge of her bed, legs loose and lazy, she reached for the strap of your sando, tugging them, letting it leave your shoulder.

“Wanna practice again?” she whispered, lips brushing yours.

Your breath hitched, your cheeks flushing. “Yeah,” you said, and kissed her.

God, you kissed her like it would be the last time. Like it had to count.

It started soft. Your lips, her tongue, the way she cupped the back of your neck. But she tasted like smoke and sugar and something that burned, and soon your sando was half off, her hands under your bra, skimming the bare skin of your sides.

She touched you like she meant it. Like she’d been thinking about it.

Her hand slid beneath your waistband, fingers grazing the elastic of your panties. Your hips jolted.

“Natalie…” you gasped, but it wasn’t a protest. It was a plea.

She paused, eyes locking with yours. “You want me to stop?”

You shook your head.

Her fingers dipped lower, slow and careful, until she brushed against the wet heat of you. You choked out a sound, half gasp, half whimper.

“God, you’re already soaked,” she said, voice low and rough, almost reverent.

She kissed your collarbone as she slid a finger inside, then two. Her touch was practiced, but gentle. She curled them just right, dragging them slow, deep, the heel of her hand pressing firm against your clit. You buried your face in her neck, biting down to muffle the moan tearing from your throat.

“Fuck,” you breathed. “Don’t stop.”

She didn’t. Her fingers worked you open, curling and stroking, coaxing you toward the edge until your thighs were shaking, your back arching, your hands twisted in her sheets.

You came like that, trembling in her lap, forehead pressed to hers, a quiet sob catching in your throat.

She kissed you after, messy and slow. Then she pushed you gently down onto the bed and climbed between your legs.

“Wait - ” you started, but her mouth was already there.

She kissed your thighs first, soft, dragging her teeth across the skin. Her hands pushed your legs open, steady and sure. And then-

Her tongue. Warm, slow, deliberate. She licked a long stripe up your slit, then circled your clit, teasing, tasting.

You cried out.

“Natalie -”

She moaned against you like she was drunk on it. Like she wanted to ruin you slow.

And she did.

The last thing you remembered before the flashback burned out was the sound you made. loud, raw, real - and the way she looked up at you from between your legs like you were something sacred, as she enjoyed

You never noticed but the way she looked at you, it was love.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

You looked down at your lap. Your hands were shaking.

“It was my first time,” you admitted.

Coach Ben nodded, listening intently.

You thought that was it—that the conversation would taper off into silence like everything else here did. But then he looked at you again, steady and quiet, like he was waiting for something to click.

“Maybe the love you’re looking for,” he said gently, “has always been in front of you. Waiting.”

You froze.

The fire popped. Your heart did too, in a different way.

He said it like he knew something you didn’t. Like he’d seen it in the way Natalie passed you her joint with soft fingers. The way she always sat just close enough that your knees touched. The way she looked at you when she thought you weren’t looking - tired, tender, like she didn’t know how to say don’t go.

“Maybe,” he added, “you’ve just been looking for it in the wrong people.”

Your throat burned. You didn’t have an answer.

Just Natalie’s name echoing through your chest like a secret you’d been too afraid to tell out loud.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe she’d always been right there.

Waiting.

And as you return to the cabin the, faint rise and fall of Natalie’s breathing as she lay curled up on the cot, her face relaxed in sleep.

There was space next to her, an empty spot on the edge of the blanket, clearly left for you.

You smiled softly to yourself, a strange warmth blooming in your chest. It was a small thing, but it meant the world to you.

As you moved closer, the cool night air from the door fading behind you, you hesitated. You knew what you were feeling now. You couldn’t ignore it anymore. You couldn’t hide from the truth.

Coach Ben’s words echoed in your mind—Maybe the love you're looking for has always been in front of you, waiting. You thought about it again, about how, all this time, you’d been searching for something that was never really gone.

It had always been Natalie.

You gently eased into the space beside her, sliding your arms around her waist and pulling her close. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, her body fitting into yours like it was always meant to. You hugged her tightly from behind, feeling the warmth of her skin seep into yours.

And in the quiet of that moment, you realized what Coach Ben had meant. You’d been looking for love in all the wrong places, convinced that there was something out there for you, when all along it was right here. Right in front of you. Waiting.

Natalie.

The love you’d been searching for, the love you had been too scared to admit, was already yours.

And as you held her close, the world outside the cabin seemed so far away. The noise, the chaos, it all faded to nothing. All that mattered was the warmth of her body in your arms and the gentle sound of her breathing.

Coach Ben had been right after all.

THE END

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #natalie #natalie scatorccio #nat scatorccio #natalie yellowjackets #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x you

428 notes · View notes

ariestrxsh · 2 days ago

Text

sub!virgin!matt x neighbor!reader

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 content warning: smut, angst, jealousy, mommy kink, oral (f!receiving), dirty talk, hair pulling, matt cums in his pants

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 summary: after finding out that matt's ex, may, is in town, you become overwhelmed with jealousy, and you make him go down on you to get his mind off of her while his dad is downstairs

sorry that it takes me three months to write one fucking chapter 💔

dividers by @/anitalenia

Me & U

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

"You did what?" You asked Matt, standing in his bedroom after he'd just broken the news to you that May's in town, and he had gone to breakfast with her while you were stuck at work, stocking butt plugs and dildos. You shot him a glare, letting him know you weren't happy with him talking with his ex, much less meeting up with her.

"It's not a big deal. We both just needed closure," Matt shrugged, avoiding eye contact with you. "You needed closure?" You scoffed at his comment. What in the hell would he need closure with May for when he had you?

"Couples who break up don't need closure. Closure means you still care about someone and are trying to keep them in your life. Plus, you guys don't need to sit down and talk about it over fuckin' french toast! Sounds like something that could've been done over text."

Deep down, Matt knew that there was a little bit of truth to what you were saying. However, May was the one who blindsided him by showing up in his new town and making him feel obligated to go to breakfast with her.

What he didn't want to tell you is that she had begged for him back, cried in his arms after he'd told her he had a new girlfriend, and stuck him with the bill when she stormed out in the middle of the meal.

"Look. I didn't invite her here. I didn't want to go, but she sprung this on me," he explained, raising his hands in a defensive gesture.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" You crossed your arms over your chest, tightening your jaw. "I didn't know she was going to come out here until she texted me today, telling me she was in town. This is the soonest I could tell you unless you wanted me to do it over text while you were at work," Matt quietly replied, replaying the morning in his head.

You were silent for a moment, caught somewhere in the middle between wanting to ask how the meeting went and not wanting to know in case anything happened that would hurt your feelings.

"Did you tell her how good I fucked you the other night?" You inquired, raising an eyebrow as you took a step closer to him. His blue eyes flicked up to meet yours. "No.. I wouldn't tell her that kind of thing. It would upset her," Matt sternly said. That's kind of the point, you thought to yourself.

You could see the hurt in his face. You hated seeing him like this, especially over another girl. Jealousy welled up inside of you, begging for some kind of outlet. Out of nowhere, you kicked off your shoes and started undoing the button on your shorts.

"W-what are you doing?" Matt asked, looking at you wide-eyed while he watched you undress. "Helping you get over her," you casually said. "I thought you were mad at me. What is actually happening right now?" He asked, furrowing his brow but unable to take his stare off of you.

"I'm going to make you forget all about her," you responded, removing your oversized t-shirt and slipping out of your lacy underwear, tossing both carelessly on Matt's bedroom floor along with the rest of your clothes.

Matt's confused expression slowly transformed into a lustful gaze as you climbed onto his bed, laid on your back, and slowly spread open your legs. His eyes danced across your breasts and your pretty pink hole.

"My dad's downstairs.." Matt started to say, worrying that the two of you would be caught if he gave into you right now. "Then you better hope he doesn't hear us, hmm?" You replied, a smile forming on your lips as you began to rub your clit in circles.

He watched you, intrigued by what you were going to do next. Blood rushed to his cock, and it twitched to life as you let out a few soft moans. "Why don't you be a good boy and come lick it?" You gazed into his eyes, spreading your lower lips open with your two fingers to show him you were dripping with arousal.

Matt gave you a needy look and nodded, "Yes, mommy." He slowly nestled himself between your thighs, leaving a trail of kisses along the inside of each one. He teased you for a few more minutes, grazing your skin with his soft lips and his warm breath drifting over your cunt.

It wasn't long before he made direct contact with your clit, his tongue flickering over it and sending waves of desire through you. He tenderly latched onto your sensitive bundle of nerves, gently suckling as you let out a few oohs and aahs.

His tongue worked tirelessly, manipulating your delicate folds and trying to elicit as many sounds from you as he could. "Such a good boy. Mommy's so proud of how well you eat pussy," you quietly praised him, running your fingers through his hair.

He hummed against your clit, delivering ripples of pleasure through you as he delighted in your sweet words. "You sure you've never done this before?" You wondered aloud, impressed by the fact that he matched the exact technique and pressure you liked without needing any direction.

He glanced up at you for half a second, shook his head, and diverted his eyes again, growing shy from having you watch him. His cheeks grew red, and his palms started to sweat, but his tongue never faltered.

Matt wasn't exactly sure what he was doing, but he'd been dreaming of burying his head between your legs from the moment he met you, and his enthusiasm about doing it was enough to have you humping his face.

"Look at me, pretty boy," you whispered, tugging on his locks of brown, and Matt's blue eyes obediently met yours as he whimpered against your sweet spot once more. "That's it. Lick it faster," you directed him, lifting your hips and grinding against Matt's skillful tongue he eagerly explored you.

With your free hand, you gripped the sheets beneath you as his perfect lips alternated between kissing and sucking on your clit. "It's hard for you to think about May when my pussy's in your mouth, isn't it?" You cooed, pushing Matt's head down until his tongue was penetrating your cunt. "Mhmm," Matt moaned and nodded while he pleased you.

Matt's hard cock starting aching while you spoke to him, and he started rutting his erection into the mattress beneath him to chase away the pressure that was building. "Good boy. The only thing you're going to think about for the rest of the day is being between my thighs. Got it?" You cooed.

"Yes, mommy," he murmured against your heat. You threw your head back and let your eyes fall shut while you relished in the velvety sensation of Matt's lips. You felt the knot in your stomach forming, threatening to snap any moment. "You're making mommy so close," you squealed, smiling and biting down on your lip.

"Who's a good boy?" You sweetly asked Matt as you peered back down at his glazed over eyes and pussydrunk expression. You felt yourself starting to relinquish control to the incredible release that started to wash over you. Your legs started to shake and close down around Matt's ears as you gripped his hair a bit more tightly with one hand and the blanket beneath you in the other.

He continued grinding against the bedding, coming undone with you as you were rolling your hips forward, riding your orgasm out to the very end. "Oh, Matthew," you whined, finishing all over his tongue while Matt finished in his jeans, delightfully moaning against your clit.

You let out a final sigh, leaning back onto Matt's pillow while you recovered from the intense feeling, but you held Matt in place with your thighs wrapped around his head. "You're my boyfriend now. And I don't want you talking to May unless it's to tell her how good I taste or how hard you cum when I ride you. Got it?" You glared down at him.

"That seems unfair. It was a three-year long rela-" Matt started to say, but you cut him off. "Matthew, what did I say?" You asked in a stern voice, tightening your grip around his head with your strong thighs. "Yes, mommy," he obediently responded. "That's what I thought you said," you told him, loosening the headlock you held him in.

The corner of his lip turned up into a smirk, secretly loving the idea of you getting possessive over him like that. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but are you.. jealous?" Matt wondered, standing to his feet and wiping your arousal from his chin with the back of his hand.

"I don't get jealous," you lied, rolling your eyes. "Sure, you don't. You don't get jealous, and I don't cum in my pants just from eating you out," Matt teased, peering down at the wet spot on the front of his jeans.

"Shut the fuck up," you playfully smiled at him. "It's a shame May never got to see you like this, hmm? See how easy you are to please?" You taunted him. He chuckled, picking your clothes up off the floor and tossing them onto the bed beside you.

"Even if we had ever done anything sexual, I don't think she could have ever made me cum that fast," Matt admitted, unbuttoning his pants to change out of them. You grinned in satisfaction at Matt's admission. "Good."

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sub matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew bernard sturniolo

423 notes · View notes

enwoso · 1 day ago

Text

silver lining | alessia russo x teen!reader x leah williamson

-> based on this request:)

grumpy masterlist

leah knew it was a bad idea.

scratch that. she knew alessia was going to think it was a bad idea.

but when her fourteen-year-old daughter came to her with your hopeful glimmer in your eye asking if she'd take you to get your belly button pierced — leah had found herself hesitating for all of less than ten seconds before muttering a probably irresponsible "yeah, alright."

leah never could learn to say no to you.

but that was the thing about you — you were impossible to say no to when you gave her the look. the same one your mum had mastered all those years ago when you were little, the same one that leah was yet to, ten years on.

and besides, leah could remember what it was like to be a teenager, how desperate she's been to do something, anything which made her feel a little more grown up.

so that was how the two of you found yourself standing outside the piercing studio. you, practically bouncing on your feet, a bundle of excitement wrapped in your hoodie which was far to big for you. but leah had to admit, she admired your confidence.

"you're sure about this right?" leah asked, shifting on her feet waiting to be seen by the lady on the desk.

you gave your mama a deadpan look, crossing your arms as if she just asked the most ridiculous question ever. "you're the one who said 'yeah alright'"

leah sighed as she watched you quote her exact words, before humming, "that was before i thought about how i might actually die when your mum finds out."

you just grinned, "nah you won't die, she loves you too much to do that”

leah groaned, rubbing a hand over her hand. "and that's exactly the reason why i might die."

but there was no turning back now. you had done your research, picked a proper studio, and leah had already signed the consent form. you were in this together. and really, how bad could this be? It wasn't like you were getting a massive tattoo or something.

...okay, yeah, alessia was going to murder her.

—

by the time they got home, you were still high on adrenaline, lifting the hem of your hoodie every few seconds to admire the small silver barbell now in your belly button.

leah, on the other hand, was feeling increasingly queasy about the conversation she was going to have with a certain blonde.

you, in your infinite wisdom, had suggested you both just not tell alessia.

to which leah had responded, "oh yeah, because she definitely won't notice that the daughter she gave birth to suddenly has a hole in her stomach."

so, when you both walked through the front door, leah braced herself.

alessia was in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove, the scent of tomato sauce filling the air. she looked up when they entered, her sharp blue eyes scanning them. she never missed a beat.

her gaze narrowed. "why do you two look so guilty?"

you, traitor that you were, immediately took a step back. "i'm just gonna—"

"lovie." your mum's voice was sharp. yeah, you were in trouble. you froze mid-step.

leah sighed. "okay, so, funny story..." alessia's eyes snapped to her. "leah."

leah winced.

you, apparently deciding to just rip the band-aid off, lifted your hoodie to reveal the new piercing. "i got my belly button pierced!" you announced, as if it was the best news your mum was going to hear all year.

alessia's expression did something complicated—her mouth opened, then shut, then opened again, before she turned to leah, eyes blazing as she smacked her with the tea towel she was holding. "you took her?!"

"ok, ow" leah held up her hands in surrender. "okay... okay yes, and before you yell at me, she really wanted it, and it's not that bad, and i figured better with me than some sketchy place with her mates in a few years—"

"that's is not the point, leah!" alessia huffed, rubbing her temples. "we were supposed to talk about things like this!"

you, ever the opportunist, chimed in. "mum, i did try to talk about it. but you said 'no.'"

"because you're fourteen!" alessia shot back, quickly.

leah winced. "technically, she's nearly fifteen..."

alessia turned to her with a glare that could have melted steel "do not start." so leah wisely shut up. not wanting to spend the night in the dog house.

alessia exhaled sharply before fixing you with a firm look. "you know you have to clean it properly, right? no touching it with dirty hands, no swimming for a while, no—"

you nodded enthusiastically. "i know! i did all my research, and the lady gave me a care leaflet!" you grinned taking the leaflet out from the pocket in your hoodie.

alessia crossed her arms. "oh yeah? and what about football? what's your plan for training? you think you can just run around like normal with that?"

leah nearly laughed—she could see the exact moment you realised you had been waiting for that question. because you, in all your determinations, stubborn glory, had prepared for this. prepared for every outcome.

"actually," you said, pushing your shoulders back, "i already checked. the lady said, i just have to cover it with a proper bandage during training, and i can't do contact drills for a couple of weeks. plus, i'll be extra careful, and if anything starts feeling weird, i promise you, i'll tell you straight away. and i won't touch it with dirty hands, and i'll clean it every night, and i definitely won't let any of the girls at training try to poke at it—"

leah watched as your mum's frustration wavered, giving way to reluctant acceptance. she knew her wife—knew that despite the initial anger, alessia was already moving past it.

finally, alessia sighed, shaking her head. "you two are a nightmare, you know that."

you grinned. "yeah but you love us." alessia huffed. "unfortunately."

leah slung an arm around her wife, pressing a kiss to her temple. "you'll forgive me eventually, yeah?"

alessia groaned but didn't pull away as the undeniable smile arose on her lips. "yeah, yeah. just wait until she asks for a tattoo."

leah paled. you, on the other hand, lit up.

"...oh, for fuck's sake."

340 notes · View notes

ilovolderman · 2 days ago

Text

Hiding in Plain Sight

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You and Bucky sneak away for a secret rooftop date

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: secret relationship, fluff, nosy teammate (guess who), taylor swift 🤭

A/N: this is part 3 of a little series, but you can totally read it on its own. i poured a bit too much of myself into this one, and it’s my favorite so far. you can check here: part 1 & part 2. hope you like it and please let me know if maybe you would like a part 4.

It starts with a note—folded twice, slipped under your door, and written in Bucky’s ridiculously neat handwriting:

“Mission briefing: Meet me on the roof at 8. Wear that hoodie I like. Bring your appetite. Everyone’s out tonight. – B.”

You grin like an idiot and stash the note in your pocket, heart fluttering.

At exactly 8, you sneak through the halls of the compound like a very suspicious ninja, hoodie up, steps quiet. You take the service stairs two at a time, and when you push open the rooftop door, the city lights bloom around you like fireflies.

Bucky’s already there. You sit down next to him on the blanket, legs folded beneath you as Bucky hands you a burger wrapped in foil. He’s already grinning before you even open it.

“You didn’t,” you say, suspicious.

“I did,” he says proudly. “Double Cheesezilla. Extra onion rings. No tomatoes. Just how you like it.”

You squint at him. “Okay, first of all, you remembered that? Second of all, are you trying to seduce me with a burger right now?”

He leans in, eyes twinkling. “Is it working?”

You laugh, nudging his shoulder with yours. “Unfortunately, yes.”

For a while, you eat in a comfortable silence. The breeze is warm, and the city lights glitter below like scattered stars. He passes you fries and steals a sip of your milkshake, acting like he didn’t just order the same thing.

Then his voice breaks the quiet.

“Y’ever think about what it’d be like if we didn’t have to sneak around?”

You glance over at him, chewing slowly. “You mean like… just be open about this?”

“Yeah. No more crawling out windows or hiding in broom closets or pretending I didn’t order you three milkshakes last week.”

You smile. “To be fair, I think Tony already found out, when you asked FRIDAY to play Taylor Swift over the speakers in the kitchen.”

“I panicked, okay?” he laughs, covering his face with his hand. “You left and I missed you.”

You blink. “I was gone for ten minutes.”

“Felt like hours.”

You feel your heart stutter in the best way. He’s not always this open—usually it takes a bit of teasing to get him to admit how he feels. But here, now, under the stars and above the city, he’s soft.

“I like this,” you say quietly. “Even if we have to sneak. It’s kind of… ours. Like this little world no one else gets to see.”

Bucky’s quiet for a second, then nods. “I like it too. Not just because it’s secret. But because it’s you.”

Your cheeks heat up. You look away, but he’s already watching you with that look again—that look like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

“You know,” you say, trying to lighten the mood before your heart explodes, “if someone catches us again, I am not hiding in a broom closet. You’re too big and you stepped on my foot like four times.”

“I told you, I was trying to make space for you!”

“There was no space, Bucky.”

“Well then next time,” he says, shifting closer, his voice dropping, “we’ll hide somewhere better.”

“Like?”

He smirks. “Like under the table in the conference room."

You gape. “You’re insane.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning too hard to make it convincing. “You realize that under the conference table is, like, the opposite of discreet, right?”

Bucky shrugs, totally unbothered. “Not if we’re quiet.”

You scoff. “You? Quiet? You’re literally 200 pounds of muscle and metal.”

He grins and leans back on his hands, all confidence. “I’m surprisingly stealthy when I’m motivated.”

You toss a fry at him. He catches it in his mouth, smug as hell.

“I can’t believe I’m dating you,” you say, half-laughing, half-swooning, when suddenly you hear the rooftop door creak.

You jolt upright.

“Go,” Bucky whispers urgently, already helping you gather the soda cups and tuck the food wrappers under the blanket.

You scramble behind one of the big industrial vents, crouching low just as the door swings open.

“Barnes?” Sam’s voice echoes through the rooftop. “Why does it smell like fries and secret feelings up here?”

“Barnes?” Sam’s voice cuts through the night. “Why does it smell like french fries and teenage romance up here?”

Bucky clears his throat and leans back like he’s been chilling here all along. Totally not on a secret date. Totally not with his heart still racing from kissing you.

“Hey,” he says coolly. “Didn’t know you were coming up.”

Sam steps out, eyeing the scene. The fairy lights. The two cups. The suspiciously rumpled blanket. The very not-Bucky playlist still going in the background.

“Uh-huh,” Sam says. “You always hang out up here listening to Taylor Swift?”

Bucky doesn’t even blink. “It’s… connected to Y/N’s phone.”

Sam raises an eyebrow.

“She was showing me a playlist earlier,” Bucky lies smoothly. “Must’ve accidentally left it on Bluetooth. You know how it is. One second you’re listening to Metallica, next thing you know, boom—Swiftie central.”

“Right,” Sam says, slowly circling the blanket like he’s collecting evidence for a crime scene. “And the two soda cups?”

“She drinks a lot of water,” Bucky deadpans.

“The fries?”

“I was hungry."

“The pink lighter?”

Bucky hesitates. “It’s… mine?”

Sam gives him a look. “Man, you are the worst liar I’ve ever met. Even Steve was better and his idea of subtlety was a trench coat and sunglasses.”

Bucky shrugs, trying to hold back the grin tugging at his mouth. “What do you want me to say, Sam?”

“I wanna know why Taylor’s singing about soulmates and there’s a literal picnic blanket up here.”

Before Bucky can answer, the speaker clicks into the next song: Enchanted.

Sam’s eyes narrow.

“Don’t,” Bucky warns.

Sam’s smile spreads. “This night is sparkling, don’t you let it go…”

“I will throw you off this roof.”

“I’m wonderstruck, blushin’ all the way home—”

Bucky stands up. Sam bolts for the door, laughing all the way down the stairs.

You and Bucky exchange a look, as soon as you leave your hiding place, trying not to laugh.

“Should’ve locked the damn door,” Bucky mutters.

You smile, brushing your hand against his. “Still worth it.”

He squeezes your fingers gently. “Definitely.”

You close the space between you with a soft kiss, slow and warm, the kind that makes you feel like maybe the world really does stop spinning for a second. When you pull back, his eyes are still closed, like he’s trying to memorize the moment.

Then—

“FRIDAY, please tell me you’re not watching this,” you mutter.

“Not at all,” the AI replies blandly, “but Mr. Stark is wondering why the rooftop cameras are mysteriously malfunctioning.”

You and Bucky exchange a look.

“…Run?” you suggest.

“Run,” he agrees.

You grab the blanket and the fries, and he grabs your hand, and you both sprint for the stairs laughing like idiots.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fandom #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #the winter soldier #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x reader #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n

323 notes · View notes

istherewifiinhell · 2 days ago

Text

[ID: A twitter thread by Ally Carter (@ OfficiallyAlly) made on 5/20/23 and has 36.1K views:

"Y'all: Pacing is not about action. It's about momentum and necessity and the sentence "DO I need to be here for this?" Pacing is about making sure your book isn't "a meeting that should have been an email." It's about not wasting the reader's time.

It's not about car chases or kisses. It's not even about plot. Sometimes people say "well the quiet moments matter too." No shit. Of course quiet moments matter. You know what doesn't matter? Boring moments. Moments that don't reveal, don't deepen, don't advance.

I once read a long scene w the heroine and her sister having breakfast. WHY? We didn't learn anything about the character, the world, nothing. The hero and heroine hadn't even met yet but I know how the heroine's sister feels about hash browns.

Now some of you may be thinking that scene probably was necessary to set up the heroine's character? Or the pivotal role of hash browns in American culture? And you'd be right if the character was super unique or the world incredibly specific.

But I'm reminded of a time when someone was telling me about this great coffee place and this is where it is and this is how it works and this is what they ordered and... Reader, it was Starbucks. They talked for 15 minutes describing Starbucks.

If I can read chapter 1 and then skip to page 50 and the book still makes sense, then those 40 pages were describing something as unique as Starbucks. Those were 40 pages that should have been emails.

Pacing is about load-bearing walls. Pacing means that if you take away a scene the whole freaking thing falls down. Whether it's plot or character or world, something has to be advanced by that scene or else I don't need to be here for that.

And while we're on the subject, pacing is also about multi-tasking. Well-paced books walk and chew gum at the same time. It means you don't have one scene to meet the sister and another about the new job and another with her on her commute worrying about said job.

Character. Plot. World. If a scene doesn't address or advance two of those three things: cut it and combine it with something else." END]

PACING IS ABOUT LOAD BEARING WALLS.

*staples violently to my own forehead*

#speaking of wasting my time #you can even make the post n and ID shorter!#if u want the long one rb it from joelle. what do i care.

31K notes · View notes

butyoudidthis4what · 2 days ago

Text

Perfumer

Jack Abbot x Reader

1.5k || All of my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: none I think. Hinted at sex and suggestiveness but that's about it really.

Summary: Jack smells the perfume you're wearing, flirty fluffy happy teasing ensues. That's it, that's the fic. Established relationship. No use of y/n or related. Zero proofreading of any kind. No beta.

A.N.: The summaries and titles will not be getting better I fear. After getting out some sadness in that last one I just needed something fluffy and happy and flirty. This is very self-indulgent as I love perfume and wish I had Jack Abbot giving me some and then smelling it on me, and telling me I smell good, you know? Honestly I'm quite shocked I wrote anything with like no level of angst in it that was just fluff. But my mental health needed some pure happy fluff with him so here we are. Anyway, this is exceptionally short for me and as with last time this is my first time back writing fanfic in a longggg time so please be gentle and kind and also let me know if you like it! The ending is very open, so there's definitely part two potential depending upon reception and if anyone would like.

“I should have known the trail of smell good was you. You always smell good.” Santos comments as she walks up to you while you stand by the center desk. “Do you own like a thousand perfumes or something?”

Jack’s head popped up from looking at the tablet in his hands a few rooms down from the desk at ‘smell good,’ correctly assuming it meant you were here. You can feel his eyes on you and look over at him. “Probably not a thousand, but a lot, yes. I collect them.”

“Why? Aren’t women supposed to want, like, a signature smell or whatever?” She tilts her head at you.

You start smirking but Robby beats you to it. “Oh, she has to keep Abbot on his toes somehow.”

“What does that even mean?” She looks between you, Robby, and Jack.

You bite your lip and stifle a laugh. It’s nice, having your relationship out in the open, having been able to get to know Jack’s friends. He’s still quite private though, which you respect, and know Robby is flirting with the line. You weren’t going to go quite as far, but can’t help the way it made you smile, in large part because it’s true.

It’s become somewhat of a game for you and Jack. You wear a different perfume everyday and he guesses what it is. He’s good at it, which isn’t surprising, he’s good at everything he does. It’s a nice way to have a close moment together. He likes buying them for you too to keep the game interesting.

It lets him read your moods a bit too. He’s learned that when you’re a bit down you have a tendency to go for perfumes that are heavier in a sense, more warm and comforting. And if you don’t wear perfume he knows it means things are bad because you don’t want to end up associating a smell with however you’re feeling or what you’re going through. He also swears they mix with your chemistry and smell different at certain times during your cycle. You don’t know why you found the idea of him being able to smell that on you so hot, but you very much did.

Recently you’d taken to layering some of them, in part to be creative and in part to make it more challenging for Jack.

“It means-” Robby starts.

“Okay, can we just not?” Jack asks as he walks over to you, shooting Robby a look and standing next to you.

“I just think it’s cute how-”

“Still talking.” Jack cuts Robby off.

“How the tables turn.” Robby shoots back, making Jack roll his eyes.

“I was just trying to help-” Jack starts.

“Now, now, boys, no fighting in front of the children.” You fake scold them. This time they both roll their eyes at you.

“Go back to work since you all still want to be here past your shifts.” Jack tells everyone, grabbing your hand and leading you to the doctor’s lounge.

You expect a kiss and hug now that you’re in private, but instead you’re met with him pressing his chest to your back, one hand coming to hold one of your hips and the other moving your hair off one shoulder and tilting your neck before he leans in close to breathe you in. You can feel the soft skin of one of his lips brush against you and the stubble from him not shaving for a day.

“Jack,” you breathe, heavier than you mean to, one hand coming to rest on his hand on your hip and the other reaching up to cup his face.

“Celeste,” he murmurs against your skin. He’s right so you nod. That’s the name of the perfume you’re wearing on your neck and wrists today. “No wonder Santos picked up on you. Heavy sillage.” He gives you a kiss to the neck before pulling back to spin you and give you one to the lips. You smile as he does. “Stop smiling so I can kiss you properly.”

That makes you laugh, but you’re able to control it and in turn he’s able to kiss you properly, how you deserve to be kissed. “I love that you know what that word means and actually used it. It’s kind of hot.” You give him another kiss. “I’m making my military man into a perfumer.”

He hums at you, low and from the back of the throat. He loves it when you call him yours. “If you ever told anyone I would deny all knowledge of having a clue about what sillage and gourmand and all of the other pretentiously fancy perfume related words mean.”

“I never would. Couldn’t ruin your reputation could I, Dr. Abbot? Plus I like having our little secrets.” You let your voice trail down on the last sentence, run your hands all over his scrub top.

His eyes darken just a little and his jaw tightens. He never really had any sort of title kink before he met you, but there’s something about the way ‘doctor’ slips off your tongue that really gets to him. Same with sir.

“You’re not here for an ED related reason, are you? Hurt? Sick?” It’s teasing but there’s just enough of a tinge of real concern to the question that melts you.

“I am not, no. I promise if I ever was here for such a reason I would make sure you knew immediately.” You smile at him softly, run a hand through the salt and peppery curls you love so much. “I just wanted to lay eyes on you, even if only for a moment. I missed you extra today. I’ll let you get back to work.” He nods, the little smile he gives you saying everything it needs to. You share one last kiss before going to leave the room.

“Oh,” you say, turning around and shutting the door again. “You’ve only answered half the question today. I just thought you should know.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You layered scents?”

“No.” You shake your head and smirk. He narrows his eyes a little as he tries to find the answer in your eyes. It suddenly clicks.

“Fuck me, your ankles?” He groans. “You put a different one on your ankles? Why?” He can already feel himself starting to fill out. He doesn’t know if he could articulate why he finds it so hot when you put perfume on your ankles for him to discover but he does.

Your smirk widens. “For a fun surprise and to see the look on your face when I told you.” He glances around the room and then gets a look on his face like he’s thinking. You’re shocked, honestly. It’s so out of character for him to think about trying to do it at the hospital. It’s only happened twice. “Oh no,” you laugh, “no, no, no, Jack rabbit, you are not finding out here at the hospital, so don’t even think about places you could take me to try and find out.”

He makes a noise of protest, somewhere between a growl and a whine that makes you bite your lip. He pins your back to the door with his hips and rolls them against you, grinding him into you to let you feel what you’ve done to him. “So what, I’m just supposed to go around like this for the rest of my shift?”

“Well you might want to take a couple of minutes to let that go down baby, but yes. You can finish your shift thinking about what could be on my ankles and what position it is you’re going to put me in to find out.” You press a kiss to his collarbone and his hands squeeze your hips a little harder, an unspoken command to look at him.

You pull back and do as he asked. So big on eye contact, your Jack. He blinks at you, jaw clenched. “I’m going to be half hard and uncomfortable there for the rest of my shift, you know that right?”

“I am nothing if not a cruel woman.” You say with fake solemnity as you smooth your hands over his chest. “I’m sure as you get drawn back into work it’ll go away. Plus, you know the anticipation and wait makes it better.”

He somehow steps closer to you, almost puts a knee between your legs and leans in close, dropping his voice and making his voice even more gravely.“I want you to remember those words because you’re going to find out all about them once I’m home and I don’t want to hear any complaining.”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you threatening to edge me, sir?” His jaw grinds and you see the slightest twitch under your eye that makes you smirk. You love that you can affect him like this.

“I don’t make threats, Doll.” He whispers at your ear as he steps back from you and pulls the door to the lounge open for you both to walk out of. Everyone glances up at the two of you, effectively forcing you to control your reaction as he keeps his voice low, only for you to hear. “Only promises I intend to keep.”

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

329 notes · View notes

randombush3 · 19 hours ago

Text

solo necesitaba estar aquí

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: some much-needed family time is had

Words: 2134

Notes: I got bored and this came to mind

You’re busy. As in, drowning in calls, constantly approached by your juniors, never-seeing-the-light-of-day busy. You don’t even remember the last time you sat down and had dinner with your wife and child. You pay a woman to replace both his mothers.

The sun has already set, the view of orange slowly dimming into darkness especially visible from your newly-obtained corner office. There must be about two more hours left on your schedule today, explaining the fresh coffee on your desk. And you’re tired, but you love this job. It’s worth it.

Your assistant — new, bumbling as he tries to grow accustomed to your discipline and efficiency — appears, phone in-hand.

“Is that New York?” is your immediate question, noting the terror on his face with slight amusement. It always takes a while for the young ones to break.

He shakes his head. The words he mouths are far scarier: it’s your wife.

You stand up.

“Give it to me.” The phone is searing hot, and you know that this is not a call of affection. “Alexia, baby, hi!”

“La profe ha dicho que somos madres terribles.”

You check the date on the screen of your laptop. “Oh, there was that meeting, wasn’t there?”

“You said you’d come.”

“I thought we’d both agreed to send Luisa?” In truth, you had. Alexia is in the most crucial part of the season, playing matches that decide her glory (and her mood during summer). “Did you go?”

“No. But at least I was home to ask him how it went.”

You rub your temples. Your assistant has taken his cue to leave, hovering on the other side of the glass door as if it will save him from the bomb that’s about to go off. “Okay. Well, what did he say? Are you with him right now?”

“Luisa’s is getting him ready for bed,” Alexia replies with a deep sigh. You gather there is no good news to give. “He told her that he never sees us. No malice intended — a simple: mis mamás son tan importantes. And the teacher took it as, mis mamás son demasiado importantes.”

“He didn’t lie.”

“And you don’t feel guilty?”

You think back to the last time you spent uninterrupted time with your son. It must have been Alexia’s last match — no, you had to leave because of a crisis in Tokyo. Maybe before that?

“We’ve spent the last seven years being parents he can be proud of. But he… doesn’t even see us.”

“You’re home right now!”

“Just in time to kiss him goodnight!”

Your breath hitches.

That’s supposed to be enough. That’s supposed to be the line that closes the argument, the past where she tells you it’s okay, that you’re trying. That your intentions are good and true and she isn’t a saint either.

But she doesn’t say anything.

A sudden wave of exhaustion hits you, and you find your desk chair, constantly warmed and broken in, and sink back into it, the city glowing behind you like a silent reprimand. You lean forwards, elbow on the desk, fingers still pressed against your temple.

She’s on speaker now. It almost feels like she’s in the room with you.

“I thought we were doing the right thing,” you say finally, quieter now. “Working this hard. Building something for him.”

There’s a pause. A cavity opens up between the two of you. Alexia no longer agrees. “He just wants parents.”

It stings more than it should. Because deep down, you knew it. You’ve known it for a while — in the drawings where Luisa is front and centre, where you and Alexia are smiling stock figures tucked away in the corner. You knew it when he started calling her mamá Luisa, without hesitation or confusion.

“He told her,” Alexia continues, voice breaking just slightly, “that sometimes he pretends we’re home. That he hears the door open and he thinks it’s one of us — and he gets all… excited, just for it to be a delivery or a friend, or the neighbours checking in on him.”

You let out a long breath, eyes falling shut. “He’s seven. He shouldn’t know disappointment like that.”

Silence. But she’s still on the line. You can hear her breathing — steady, controlled. Like she’s bracing herself to say something worse.

“I have a few matches left this season,” she says. “Then I’m home until the Euros.”

“And I have Tokyo, then Berlin. After that, a quarterly review. Shareholder summit in—”

“No,” she interrupts. “You have a son. Who misses you. That comes first.”

You want to argue. You want to say it’s not that easy, that you don’t just get to drop everything. But maybe it is that easy. Maybe the hard part is admitting you’ve made the wrong choice more times than you can count.

“I’ll clear the week after Tokyo,” you say finally. “We’ll take him to that dinosaur park he keeps asking about. No phones. Just us.”

“Both of us,” Alexia says firmly. “No pulling out last minute.”

“I promise.”

Another silence — but a warmer one, less weighted. For a moment, it’s just the two of you breathing, the world quietly changing as you make your decision.

“I miss you,” she says softly.

And suddenly, more than the job, more than the office, more than the city stretched out in front of you — you just want to go home.

…

He squeals with delight as you march through arrivals, Alexia unable to control his surge into the crowd to attach himself to you. Hands meet your leg and you scoop him up, surprised by how much heavier he is, pulling him into you as you make your way to your wife.

That conversation a few months ago has been a much-needed catalyst for change.

Tokyo was good, perfect for networking, but it wasn’t home.

It's not this.

“I missed you, campeón,” you whisper in his ear as you reach Alexia, smiling at the slight sheen in her eyes. “I’m so glad I could come home early.”

Alexia doesn’t need to respond for her answer to be known.

The next morning, you wake to the sound of tiny feet sprinting down the hallway and slamming into the door of your bedroom.

“¡Hoy es el día de los dinosaurios!” he yells, muffled through the wood like some kind of pint-sized town crier. “Y tú lo prometiste, MAMÁ. ¡LO PROMETISTE!”

Alexia groans from beside you, face buried deep in the pillow, muscles aching from the dregs of the season and the thought of the build-up to the Euros. “What have we done?”

“We’ve entered legally binding verbal contract,” you mutter, already reaching for your phone to cancel the one remaining telecon you hadn’t yet axed. You text your assistant a quick: Push everything back, I’m being held hostage by a T-Rex.

The reply comes instantly: Understood. Good luck, boss.

…

At the dinosaur park, all bets are off.

He spots a rickety, questionably-safe ‘Dino Dig Zone’ and points with an index rivalling Augustus’ ad locutio in the Prima Porta. “There. I’m going to dig for bones. I need gloves. And goggles. And snacks.”

Unsurprisingly, there’s a board listing the prices of those exact items. Alexia gives you one glance before nudging you towards the till.

You buy him the whole kit — gloves three sizes too big, a neon-green hard hat, safety goggles with actual working headlamps. He looks like a very tiny paleontologist sponsored by a very eccentric energy drink company. You and Alexia exchange a look, but say nothing.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s not digging. He’s sitting on top of the dig site, dramatically narrating the excavation like David Attenborough. You have no idea where he learnt the technical terms, but maybe your background checks on Luisa didn’t include her supposed paleontology degree.

“Here,” he says, pointing at what is very obviously a plastic ribcage, “we find the remains of the mamasaurio, a terrifying beast who never misses football training and always scores the best goals.”

Alexia snorts. “Okay, I like this version of me.”

You’re not so lucky.

“And next to it — the dinochefejecutiva. She’s very rare to see. She lives mostly in airports.”

You choke on your iced coffee.

The gift shop is a disaster. You tell him he can pick one souvenir. He picks seven (one for every year you’ve missed, apparently — he’s a master manipulator). Alexia leans down to bargain with him while you tap out and retreat to the picnic benches outside. She emerges twenty minutes later, dazed, holding two dinosaur hoodies, a talking plush stegosaurus, a fossil-shaped backpack, glow-in-the-dark dino socks, and a hat with T-REX CEO embroidered in sparkly thread.

“He hustled me,” she whispers to you.

You smirk. “It’s not hard.”

He wears everything at once for the rest of the day, waddling around like an overburdened prehistoric fashion icon, munching on overpriced churros and announcing to anyone who will listen that today is his yes day. You and Alexia trail behind him, laughing, holding hands, slowly starting to believe you might actually remember how to do this — this parenting thing, this family thing, this loving-each-other-and-showing-up thing.

When he falls asleep in the car, surrounded by stuffed animals and crumbs and the remains of a dino tail-shaped lollipop, Alexia turns to you.

“You know,” she says, voice soft with something like peace, “I think this was the best investment we’ve ever made.”

You glance at the back seat — at your snoring, sugar-comatose son — and then at your wife, radiant even after she was forced to hold a melting ice-lolly that stained her white t-shirt.

You smile. “Returns have been excellent so far.”

Dinner that night is chaotic, but surprisingly demanded even after a day of junk food that nearly sent your two-time Ballon d’Or into a mental breakdown.

He’s still riding the sugar high from the park, sprawled across the kitchen floor in his dino hoodie, tiny plastic stegosaurus tucked into the crook of his arm like he gave birth to it. You’re rummaging through cabinets blindly — unsure when Luisa last reorganised them and finding her system incredibly confusing.

Alexia’s leaning against the counter, eyeing the situation with a suspicious mix of amusement and concern. “Are you sure about this?” she asks as you pull out spaghetti, three different cheeses, and something you think is tomato sauce but might be expired salsa.

“Yep,” you lie.

Halfway through the prep, he finally looks up from his playtime and asks, “Where’s Luisa?”

Alexia freezes mid-chop. You glance over your shoulder and smile, holding up your sauce-stained wooden spoon like it’s proof of competence. “You do know that we can cook, right?”

He blinks. Then, slowly: “Que va.”

“Excuse you,” Alexia says, squinting at him like he’s just insulted her entire bloodline. “Mamá once made lasagna so good it made grown men cry.”

“Did they cry because of the cheese?” he asks seriously.

“Emotionally? Yes,” you cut in. “Digestively? Also yes.”

Dinner ends up being… edible. Barely. The spaghetti is overcooked, the sauce has a suspicious kick that might be from Alexia mistaking god-knows-what for paprika, and the garlic bread ends up more like garlic crackers. But he eats it anyway — every bite — grinning like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“You’re both kinda good at this,” he says between chews.

“Kinda good?” you echo, with faux offence.

“Like… Luisa would do it faster.” He shrugs at Alexia’s raised eyebrows. “But this is nice.”

You and Alexia exchange a glance over his head, soft and knowing. She reaches under the table to squeeze your knee.

“Did you have fun today?” you ask, hoping your tentativeness is well-hidden.

He nods with enthusiasm.

“Let’s do it again tomorrow!”

He’s raised in his seat and almost rearing to go.

“How about bedtime first before we plan more yes-days?” Alexia negotiates, this time successfully.

Later, after bedtime stories and lights out and one too many requests for water, you crawl into bed next to her. The silence is warm and easy, the soft glow of her bedside lamp all you need to help you relax. Her back presses into your chest, and you bury your face into her shoulder, finally relaxed in a way you haven’t been in months.

And then, her voice, low and a little smug: “Now that you’re home…”

You smile against her skin. “Yeah?”

She turns just slightly, her hand brushing across your hip, teasing. “I’ve got a few… yes-days of my own in mind.”

You let out a laugh, quiet and breathless. “You drive a hard bargain, capitana.”

She smirks, settling deeper into your arms. “Better keep up, dinochefejecutiva. Or I’m benching you.”

“Not the bench,” you whisper dramatically, already pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “Anything but the bench.”

She hums, wicked and sweet. “Then show me you’ve still got game.”

#randombush3 #woso #woso x reader #barca femeni #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

400 notes · View notes