#locked out of house london | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moody-alcoholic · 4 months ago

Text

CW: stalking behaviour, over protective 141, fluff.

“See her coming out now.” Ghost says over the radio.

“Afirm.” Soap’s voice comes back almost instantly. Ghost watches as you stumble over the pavement, pulling your jacket over your shoulders. It’s almost 3am, and most clubs are closing. The friend you came out with left an hour ago. Now you’re alone, drunk, swaying through the streets of London on a busy Saturday night.

“Watch your distance Soap, no need to spook her.” Price says.

“Copy.” Soap says as he weaves his way through the crowd of clubbers spilling out of the various nightclubs and bars. He keeps his head low, making sure to keep a safe distance from you. They’re not going to lose sight of you though. That’s what Ghost is for.

He slips between the crowds on the other side of the street, slipping into the shadows every opportunity he gets.

“She’ll take the next right. Don’t lose her.” Price says as you pick up your pace slightly. He’ll be driving to the next location, ready to pick you up at a moment's notice. You pull your phone out, typing while you struggle to keep your balance. Ghost lost track of how many drinks you had.

It was a celebration after all, your friend getting a big promotion, she took you to one of the fanciest bars in the city. Even though she left early you still seemed to be having fun, helping yourself to another drink before finally deciding to call it a night.

The streets off the main road are darker, quieter. Less room for error.

Suddenly you make a sharp turn, almost throwing your body down a dark alleyway. Ghost’s lost visual, he speeds up his strides, he has no idea if the alley is a dead end or not.

“Soap, don’t lose her.” Ghost orders panic building in his chest. There’s no reply, now Ghost can’t even see Soap. “Soap, confirm visual on the target.”

Ghost jogs to the next street over, nothing but shuttered buildings and the odd person heading home.

“Stand-by.” The seconds feel like they’re ticking on for hours. “Eyes on target, she’s-”

The line goes silent.

“She’s just throwing up, seems like she’s had a few too many.” Soap says. Ghost can almost hear the collective sigh as he slips back into the darkness waiting for you to emerge from the alley. When you do you seem even more unsteady on your feet.

“Keep it tight, she’s got another main strip to cross.” Price says. He’ll be moving on already. The amount of times you’ve walked this route. The amount of times they’ve practiced this route, it’s almost like a rehearsed play they could do in their sleep.

You move on weaving through the growing crowds of the next cluster of clubs. They seem busier than the last. You work through them quickly, Soap keeping his distance, pushing through people without a care. He has one motive, one mission; never lose sight of you.

As you make it to the quieter end of the street a group of lads cat-call you. You brush it off waving at them as you skip over to the next turn. Almost home.

“ETA 10 minutes.” Ghost says hugging the shadows on the opposite side of the street.

“Copy,” Price says, he will be in his final position. For the next few minutes the walk goes smoothly, you’re almost home, almost safe.

“Got a guy on her six, just overtook me.” Soap says. Ghost’s eyes flick over in an instant.

“I see.” Ghost says, watching as the man’s pace slows. “Hang back Soap. I got eyes.”

Ghost doesn’t even hear a reply, his eyes digging into the man now following a few steps behind you. You seem to notice too, quickly taking a peak over your shoulder, pulling your jacket around you tighter. You’re almost there, almost home.

“Want me to grab him?” Soap asks. As he says it you pick up your speed, your body straightens up.

“Negative.”

You turn into the front garden of the house, shutting the gate behind you. The hairs rise on the back of your neck as you fumble with the key pressing it into the lock and opening the door. The feeling of being followed suddenly fades as you make it inside, locking the door behind you.

“Hey, welcome home.” Kyle says, sticking his head out the kitchen. You smile walking over to him and wrapping your hands around his neck.

“It’s late, you didn’t have to wait up.” you say pressing your lips on his. He kisses you back, his hands gripping your waist.

“Needed to make sure you got home safe.” You hear John say. You break from the kiss looking over at him sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of tea in front of him. You walk over wrapping your arms around him from behind squeezing him.

The smell of tea fills your nose and makes you thirsty.

“Cuppa? Or bed?” Kyle asks, walking over, placing his hand on the small of your back. You hum looking round the kitchen.

“Where’s Johnny and Simon?” You ask.

“Sleeping, they’re not used to staying up as late as you are.” John chuckles. You smile looking up at Kyle.

“Bed.” You say. He smiles back at you kissing the top of your head.

“C’mon, I’ll give you a hand.” Kyle says pulling on your waist turning you to the stairs. John hears you giggling as you stumble up the steps to the first floor. A few seconds later the back door slowly opens, Johnny and Simon slipping in. John raises an eyebrow, quickly checking behind him to make sure you’re definitely gone.

“You better hurry up, I’m pretty sure she’s looking to climb into your bed tonight.” John says as Simon and Johnny look at eachother. Johnny's smiles, taking his coat off and leaving his radio on the kitchen island.

“Get some rest cap, you look exhausted.” Johnny says, patting him on the shoulder as he passes him. John sighs looking up at Simon.

“Another successful night.” John says as Simon puts his radio down.

“Always.” Simon smiles.

_______ What if something went wrong?

👏zero👏self👏control👏

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briefinquiries · 2 months ago

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Under the Blood Moon | Peaky Blinders | Chapter 1

Tommy Shelby x Reader : Chapter 1

Fic Summary: You came to Birmingham for a fresh start, to bury the past and keep your head down. As a former nurse in the war, you've seen enough blood and death to last a lifetime. But fate (and the Shelby's) have other plans. After stitching Tommy Shelby back together, you find yourself drawn further into their world, a world of violence, loyalty, and power. When Tommy offers you a job, it comes with more than just good pay, it comes with expectations and lines you never planned to cross.

Chapter summary: Seeking a fresh start in Birmingham, you never expected a late-night knock at your door to pull you into the orbit of fa family like the Shelby's. But as you work to save the life of their wounded leader, a buried memory stirs, because this isn't the first time you've stitched up Thomas Shelby.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Violence, injury, stitching wounds, mentions of blood, gore, and open wounds, brief PTSD and war flashbacks, alcohol use, and mild language.

A/N: I've decided to give a Tommy Shelby x Reader multi-chapter fic a go. Comments / replies are always so appreciated (and motivating). Thanks for reading!

Birmingham greeted you with coal-stained skies. The air was thick with smoke and iron, clinging to your skin and settling into your lungs like something you’d never quite cough out. It wasn’t warm, and definitely wasn't welcoming. But then, you hadn’t come here looking for comfort.

You had come for a fresh start.

You stood outside the house, studying it carefully. It was small but solid, tucked on a quiet street away from the chaos of the factories. The bricks were darkened with soot, the windows a bit dusty, but the roof was sound, and the door was sturdy. Nothing fancy, nothing remarkable. Just a house.

Your fingers tightened around the key, the cool metal pressing into your palm. You turned it over, studying the familiar scratches, the worn edges.

The house had belonged to your uncle, a man you barely remembered. He had been a quiet, reserved man, a blacksmith who kept to himself. You recalled visiting him once as a child, the memory hazy, clouded by time. You couldn’t even remember his face.

He had left Birmingham years ago, moving out to the countryside, somewhere greener, quieter. Then, he had fallen ill.

About a month ago, a letter arrived. It was short, written in your father’s careful, uneven scrawl. "Your uncle passed away, left the Birmingham house to the family. No other heirs. If you ever need it, the house is yours."

You didn’t think much of it at first. You were busy. Trying to survive in London while out running memories of blood and war. But as the weeks dragged on, as thoughts of the war continued to haunt you, the letter weighed heavier in your mind.

It was an escape… a place to start over.

So you took the key, boarded a train, and came to Birmingham. To this house.

You took a deep breath, the air heavy with smoke and the faint scent of metal. Then, you pushed the key into the lock and turned. The door creaked open, the hinges stiff with age. You stepped inside, the wooden floorboards groaning underfoot.

The air was stale, dust settling in the corners like forgotten memories. The furniture was sparse. In the corner, a worn armchair, a rickety table, a narrow bed in the back room.

It was yours. And that was more than you’d had in a long time.

You closed the door behind you, leaning against the wood for a moment, eyes drifting shut. The house was quiet, almost peaceful.

You let out a breath. Your fingers brushed over the windowsill, the paint chipped and peeling. This place needed work. A fresh coat of paint, a good cleaning. But that could wait.

For now, you needed to figure out your next steps. You had made it to Birmingham. You had the house. But what now? Where were you supposed to go from here?

Your gaze drifted to the bag by the door, still packed with the few belongings you had brought with you. Clothes, a journal, medical supplies.

You had been trained as a nurse during the war, a healer amidst blood and chaos. You still had the skills, the knowledge. And if you were being honest, you needed work. You couldn’t live off of memories and dust. You needed a purpose.

But the thought of returning to the sick beds, to the blood and the wounds… it made your stomach twist. You had seen enough pain to last a lifetime. Still, healing was all you knew. And despite the memories, despite the nightmares, you were good at it.

You thought about finding a clinic, a hospital, maybe even a small apothecary. Birmingham was a big city. Surely there was work to be found.

You just had to keep your past buried. No one needed to know about France, or about the war. They just needed to know you could patch wounds and heal the sick. You took a breath to steady yourself. Maybe you could find work somewhere quiet, somewhere far from the blood and gunfire.

You looked back at the window, watching as smoke curled through the streets outside, people bustling about their business.

You didn’t know anyone in Birmingham. No friends, no connections. Just a house. But maybe that was a good thing. Maybe a clean slate was exactly what you needed.

…

The next morning, you set out with a clearer purpose. The air was thick with the scent of damp streets, the sky an endless stretch of gray, pressing low over the city. Birmingham was loud and alive, a mess of bustling crowds, shouting vendors, and the clang of metal from the factories.

You moved through the streets, weaving between workers with soot-streaked faces and women carrying baskets of bread and potatoes. The city had a pulse, gritty and restless.

You weren’t sure where you were going. Not exactly. But you needed to get a feel for the city, to know what work might be available, to see if there was a clinic, a hospital– something that wasn’t a battlefield.

The small apothecary caught your eye first.

The wooden sign creaked in the wind, the glass windows slightly fogged from the warmth inside. Shelves lined the walls, filled with glass bottles of tinctures, jars of dried herbs, and vials of tonics. The familiar scents– lavender, mint, camphor, grounded you in a way you hadn’t expected.

You picked up a small bottle of laudanum, checking the label, when a voice broke through your thoughts.

"Excuse me."

You turned, finding a dark-haired woman watching you with sharp, curious eyes. She was young, but there was something about her– a confidence, an ease, like she was someone who was used to asking questions and getting answers.

"Could you pass me that bottle?" She gestured to a jar on the high shelf just above you towards something amber-colored and thick, labeled in neat handwriting.

You nodded, reaching up and handing it to her.

"Thanks," she said, turning the bottle over in her hands before glancing back at you. Her eyes flickered over you, assessing. "I’ve never seen you in here before."

Your shoulders tensed instinctively, but you kept your expression neutral.

“Probably because I’ve never been here before. I’m new to Birmingham," you said simply. "Just moved from London."

Her eyebrow arched, her lips twitching with something like amusement. "New, huh?" Her eyes scanned your face again, lingering a little too long, like she was trying to figure out what kind of person you were.

"Yeah," you answered, keeping your tone even. "Looking to get settled in."

She hummed, clearly unconvinced. "You have family in the area then?”

"Used to. Not anymore. But my…" You paused, choosing your words carefully. "My uncle left me his house. Figured I’d put it to use."

The woman’s brow arched, curiosity flickering in her dark eyes.

"Whereabouts?"

You hesitated again. There was something unsettlingly sharp about her gaze, the way she looked at you like she was putting together a puzzle. But you couldn’t think of a reason not to answer. Not yet, at least.

"Small street. On the quieter side of the city, just east of the factories."

Her eyes flickered with recognition, her mouth curving into a half-smile. "That would be on the edge of Small Heath, then." She hummed, her expression thoughtful. "Not many folks live out that way anymore. It’s mostly warehouses and old workshops."

You nodded. "It’s quiet. Suits me just fine."

"Quiet, yeah," she echoed, her voice dipping slightly. Her eyes flicked back to you, sharp and knowing. "Unless you count the factory whistles, that is."

You offered a faint smile. "I’m hoping I’ll learn how to tune them out."

Her lips twitched. Amused. "Must be quite the change. Birmingham’s not like London."

"No, it’s not," you admitted.

"What brings you to the shop, then?" Her gaze flicked to the bottle of laudanum still in your hand. "Not feeling well, are you?"

"No," you shook your head, placing the bottle back on the shelf. "Just stocking up. I’m a nurse."

Her eyes flickered with something– curiosity, intrigue, maybe. "A nurse?" She repeated, leaning against the counter, crossing her arms loosely. "That’s rare around here."

You shrugged, trying to keep your posture relaxed. "Figured I’d try my luck."

She studied you a moment longer, her dark eyes tracing your face, her expression unreadable. For a heartbeat, you wondered if she could see right through you.

But then she smiled– a quick, fleeting thing that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "I’m Ada, by the way." Her lips twitched with a smirk.

You introduced yourself, though the way her eyes lingered on you afterward made you feel like she was filing the name away for later.

"See you around."

And then, she was gone, disappearing into the bustle of Birmingham.

The bell above the door jingled softly in her wake. You stood there for a moment, staring after her, trying to shake the unease creeping into your bones.

Something about Ada felt like a warning.

…

By the time you made it home, the sky had darkened, and the city had taken on a different kind of life. The distant hum of music from the pubs, the sharp voices of men laughing and shouting in the streets, the occasional clatter of hooves against cobblestone, all of it filtered through the cracks in the door as you stepped inside.

You locked the door behind you, double-checking the latch before exhaling.

Nights were always the hardest, but routine’s helped keep you steady.

You lit a candle on the worn table, the dim glow flickering against the bare walls. From your bag, you pulled out a small tin of herbal tea, a habit you had picked up somewhere along the way, one of the few things that had helped keep the worst of the nights at bay.

The kettle on the stove took its time, the soft whistle filling the silence. You let the sound settle into your chest, grounding you, reminding you that you were here, in Birmingham, not back there.

You poured the tea, letting the steam rise, inhaling deeply. Lavender, chamomile. Comforting. Soothing. Familiar.

You let the cup warm your hands as you moved to the small washbasin near the window. With slow, deliberate motions, you wiped the soot and city grime from your face, rinsing away the day. Your fingers traced the edges of old scars, faint but still there, a map of wounds that had long since healed.

You pushed the thought away before it could root too deep.

Back at the table, you took a slow sip of tea and focused on the small, simple details, like the warmth of the cup, the crackle of the candle, the soft creak of the house settling. Something in your chest loosened, just slightly.

You weren’t naive. You knew the night wouldn’t be easy. It never was.

But for now, you had a roof over your head. For now, you were safe. You had to let that be enough.

…

The days passed in quiet, measured steps.

You had spent most of your time wandering the city, mapping the streets in your mind, feeling out where you might fit. Birmingham was a city of industry, of labor, of men and women working themselves to the bone. It was restless, alive, always moving.

Finding work, however, had proven more difficult than expected.

You had stopped by a few places– a small clinic near the factories, an apothecary that looked like it could use an extra set of hands. But while people were always in need of medical help, no one seemed keen on hiring a stranger.

You filled your time with small tasks, simple things to make the house feel like your own.

The place had been untouched for years, and it showed. Dust lingered in the corners, the air had been stale, the furniture old and impersonal. You scrubbed the floors, aired out the rooms, patched the curtains that were fraying at the edges. Little by little, it started to feel less like a stranger’s house and more like yours.

You found an old wooden trunk buried in the bedroom closet, filled with relics from your uncle’s past. A few books, a rusted pocket watch, a small collection of letters yellowed with age.

You didn’t know what to do with them, so you stacked them neatly in the corner. Some part of you felt strange throwing them away.

The work kept your hands busy, your mind occupied. And at night, when the city quieted and the memories tried to creep in, you stuck to your routine. Tea. Candlelight. Wash the day away.

You set the steaming cup of tea onto the worn wooden table, the candlelight flickering as the night settled around you.

The routine had become a comfort, a way to quiet your thoughts before bed. You dipped the cloth into the basin, dragging it across your skin in slow, measured strokes, rinsing away the day’s grime, the lingering scent of smoke and iron from the city streets.

The house was silent, peaceful, save for the distant hum of Birmingham outside– the occasional shout from a passing drunk, the distant bark of a dog, the clang of metal from the factories that never truly slept.

And then– A knock.

Not just a knock. A frantic pounding at your door.

Your body tensed instantly, the cloth slipping from your fingers, landing with a soft splash in the basin.

Three sharp knocks. They were urgent– desperate.

You froze, heart hammering, staring toward the door.

For a brief, foolish moment, you considered ignoring it. Letting whoever it was move on, letting them assume you weren’t home. But then you heard another slew of frantic knocks before moving quickly across the room, your bare feet silent against the wooden floor.

You unlatched the lock and pulled the door open. A woman stood on the doorstep, wild-eyed, breathless, her coat slightly askew.

You didn’t recognize her. Her face was sharp, lined with experience, her eyes fierce and intelligent. She looked like a woman who was used to being listened to.

"You’re the nurse?" she demanded.

You blinked, the urgency in her voice rattling you.

"What–"

"No time for questions." She said sternly. “Are you a nurse or not?”

You nodded blankly.

The woman reached forward, gripping your wrist. "Someone’s dying. You need to come. Now."

Your stomach twisted. You could have said no. You should have said no.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you grabbed your medical bag, stepped out into the cold night air, and followed the woman into the dark.

The woman dragged you down the darkened streets of Birmingham, her grip firm as you struggled to match her pace. The cobblestones were slick with the night’s dampness.

"Who are you?" you asked breathlessly, glancing at her from the corner of your eye.

"Not important," she shot back, barely sparing you a glance. "What matters is that someone is hurt, and you’re the only nurse in the bloody area who can help."

That should have made you stop. It should have made you pull away, demand more answers. But something in the woman’s tone, the raw urgency, made your feet keep moving.

"What happened?" you pressed.

"Beaten within an inch of his life," she answered curtly. "Needs stitching, stabilizing. And we can’t take him to the hospital."

That last part made your stomach turn. "Why not?"

The woman finally looked at you then, a sharp, assessing glance that made your breath hitch. "Because hospitals ask too many questions," she said.

You didn’t argue, though unease curled in your gut. You weren’t completely stupid. You knew the type of folks who avoided hospitals were typically the ones who had reasons to stay in the shadows. The kind who couldn’t afford questions, who didn’t want records or police involvement.

The woman led you to an imposing brick manor, its dark windows towering above like watchful eyes. It stood apart from the grime and chaos of Birmingham, looming at the end of a quiet street, a stark contrast to the soot-stained buildings you’d grown used to.

The iron gate creaked as she pushed it open, the path leading to the heavy front door lined with manicured hedges and polished stone. Inside, the air was cooler, cleaner, but no less suffocating.

The woman moved swiftly, her heels clicking against the gleaming floor as she led you through grand hallways, past rooms with plush armchairs and dark, heavy drapes. Without a word, she led you up a winding staircase, her posture rigid, her pace quick. She stopped outside a heavy wooden door, turning to you with sharp, dark eyes.

"In here."

Your eyes adjusted to the dim lantern light, and that was when you saw him. A man lay slumped on top of a bed, his head lulled to the side limply, his body battered and broken. The white of his shirt was soaked through with crimson, his face barely visible beneath the swelling and bruises. He was surrounded by about eight other men– all cross talking and hovering.

"Jesus Christ," one of the men muttered when he saw you, his voice heavy. “Who the hell is this, Polly? Thought you said you were getting help.”

"Get out." The woman– Polly’s voice cut through the room like a blade. Firm. Absolute.

Most of them hesitated, but then they obeyed. Filing out into the hall with murmurs and glances, leaving only the one who had questioned you behind.

She turned to you. "Fix him."

You swallowed, stepping closer, taking in the damage. The man, whoever he was, had been worked over with brutal precision. Deep cuts, swollen bruises, a gash at his temple still bleeding sluggishly. His breathing was uneven, shallow.

"I– I don’t know if I have the right supplies… He’s burning up," you murmured, pressing the back of your fingers against the man’s clammy skin.

"I can assure you that you will be compensated more than fairly if you help him," Polly said firmly.

The weight of her words settled between you like an unspoken challenge. You hesitated only a second longer before nodding, rolling up your sleeves and pressing your fingers to his pulse. Weak. But still there.

You set your medical bag down. "I need clean water and more light, if you have it. And someone needs to hold him still."

The same man stepped forward immediately. "I got ‘im."

Polly exhaled. “I’ll get the water.”

You nodded once, then got to work.

You dropped to your knees beside the man and started taking inventory of his injuries. The most pressing issue was the bleeding. He had several deep gashes– one above his brow had sent blood streaming down his face, coating his cheek in dark red smears, another along his abdomen was deep and oozing. His ribs were bruised, possibly cracked, his breathing shallow and uneven.

His hands were scraped raw, the skin around his knuckles split open, he had fought back. But judging by the state of him, whoever he fought had won.

"I need whiskey," you said, peering towards the man, now lingering towards the end of the bed. "A lot of it."

He let out a grunt of approval before moving toward a shelf in the corner.

You reached for a clean cloth, dousing it with whatever antiseptic you had on hand, and pressed it firmly to the gash on the unconscious man’s head.

He flinched, his whole body tensing. Still fighting, even now. You murmured something low and instinctive. "Easy. You’re alright. Just hold on."

You focused on stitching the worst of the wounds, steadying your hands, ignoring the shake in your breath.

The man with the whiskey stepped forward, dropping a bottle onto the table beside you with a dull thud.

"This for you or for him?" he asked dryly.

You didn’t glance up as you poured some onto a clean cloth, pressing it to a particularly deep wound along the unconscious man’s ribs.

He tensed, but didn’t wake.

"Both, probably," you muttered, shaking your head.

The man let out a short chuckle just as Polly returned with a basin full of water and a stack of clean cloths. She kicked the door shut behind her before carefully setting it down beside you.

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked.

You exhaled slowly, stepping back to assess your work. "If the fever doesn’t take him."

Another silence. Then Polly nodded once, as if that was good enough.

"He’ll make it," the man muttered, rubbing his jaw.

You weren’t so sure.

You took a step back, rubbing your sore fingers against your skirt, trying to wipe away the lingering dampness of blood. It had taken several hours– careful, grueling hours, to stitch and clean each wound, to stabilize his breathing, to keep him tethered to life.

The man in front of you was alive, but for how long was still uncertain.

"He needs rest," you said once you were finished. "No movement, no stress. Keep him warm, keep his wounds clean."

Polly nodded. But her sharp gaze lingered on you, like she was trying to see past your words, past your face, past whatever you were trying to conceal.

You held her gaze for half a second before shifting your focus back to your bag, checking your supplies, steadying your hands.

"You’ve done this before," she said suddenly.

You hesitated. Not long. But long enough for the moment to stretch. "Yes."

"In a hospital?"

"No."

Another silence.

Then she asked, “Where?”

But before you could respond, the door swung open.

"Told you she could help," a familiar voice announced.

You turned toward the sound to see the woman from the apothecary. Ada. Your stomach twisted slightly as you realized how this family had even found you.

She looked concerned, but unfazed by the scene in front of her, the gore, the man slumped on the bed, the piles of bloody, used gauze. She just strode in, coat draped over her shoulders, sharp eyes flicking from you to the unconscious man.

"Will he be alright?" she asked.

Before you could answer, the man spoke first. "He’s Tommy fucking Shelby. He’s bloody tough is what he is, ‘course he’ll be alright.”

The name made you pause. Your heart stuttered in your chest, and your eyes flickered back to the man on the bed. Thomas Shelby.

You knew that name. But from where?

You looked at him again, really looked at him– past the bruising, past the swollen eye and the split lip.

There was something… familiar. Like a ghost creeping at the edges of your mind.

And then, it hit you.

From France– from the trenches, from the cold earth and suffocating dark.

From the tunnel collapse.

Your mind reeled, the memory creeping in like a ghost, unbidden, unwelcome. You could still see it– the flickering oil lamps barely cutting through the darkness, the stench of blood and damp soil thick in the air. The cries of the wounded had blurred together into one endless, agonizing sound, but somehow, over all of it, you had heard his voice.

Thomas Shelby had been one of the lucky ones, dragged out of the tunnel collapse, barely breathing, covered in dust and blood, muttering things under his breath that no one could understand.

You had been the one to sit with him for hours while you waited for help. You pressed a cloth to his forehead, wiped the dirt from his wounds, checked for broken bones. You had been the one to sit beside him as he drifted in and out of consciousness. And you had been there when he woke up later on in the infirmary.

His blue eyes had been dazed, unfocused. He had blinked up at you, confused, disoriented, barely clinging to the present.

"You’re alright," you had murmured, your voice calm, steady, the same tone you had used on countless soldiers before him.

He had just stared at you, breathing raggedly, his chest rising and falling in shallow movements.

Then, a whisper. The words were barely audible, slipping through cracked lips like a prayer, or a curse. "Still here, then."

“Yeah,” you responded. “You’re still here.”

Then, his gaze flickered, just for a moment. "And so are you."

It had startled you then, that he had remembered you. In the chaos, in the dark, you had been just another nameless pair of hands keeping him from slipping away. But he had remembered.

Your fingers clenched around the bloodied cloth still in your hand. You forced yourself to move, to step back from him, to push away the ghosts that clawed at the edges of your mind.

"You’re not leaving, are you?" Ada’s voice cut through the thick silence, sharp and knowing.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to focus on the present. "I’ve done all I can," you murmured, more to yourself than to them. "If he makes it through the night, he’ll live."

The man huffed. "And if he doesn’t?"

You didn’t answer. Because you had seen enough men slip away in the dead of night, their bodies giving out long after their minds had fought to stay.

You didn’t want to see another.

Polly, who had been watching you closely, exhaled through her nose, as if making a decision. “Stay the night. Watch over him. I’ll double your payment."

Your eyes flickered to hers. Calculating. Appraising.

A pause stretched between you.

Then, finally she sighed, “Triple."

“Jesus, Pol,” the man said.

“Quiet, Arthur–” she snapped.

They were desperate– his family, you had to assume. And how could you say no? They were begging in the language they knew, money.

“Triple is robbery. Double is fair,” you replied with a sigh.

Polly’s sharp gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before she gave a small nod, seemingly satisfied.

"Okay then," she said.

Ada exhaled beside her, arms crossed over her chest, watching you with something unreadable in her dark eyes.

The man– Arthur, then took another swig from the bottle of whiskey and muttered, "Fucking hell, he’d better wake up after all this."

You turned back to the man lying unconscious on the makeshift bed, his face still swollen, barely recognizable under the deep bruising. His breathing was still shallow, his body eerily still except for the slight rise and fall of his chest.

You reached for the cloth and basin of water that Polly had brought earlier, wetting the rag and dabbing gently at the dried blood along his jawline.

"We’ll be downstairs if you need anything," Polly said after a moment. "Ada, come on."

Ada hesitated briefly, her gaze flickering between you and Tommy, before she gave you a slight nod and followed her out of the room.

Arthur lingered. He stood by the bed, arms crossed, watching as you continued to clean the remnants of violence from Thomas’ face. "You know, when Pol said she was getting help, I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about," he admitted, voice gruff.

You didn’t look up, just kept your focus on pressing the damp cloth to the dried blood along his jawline.

Arthur exhaled through his nose, rubbing his face briefly before nodding toward you.

"But… thanks. For saving my brother."

You finally glanced up, finding something genuine in his gaze. You just nodded. A quiet acknowledgement.

Arthur lingered for a beat longer before muttering, "Right then."

Then he turned and strode toward the door, disappearing into the hallway, leaving you alone.

Next Chapter >>

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinders angst #tommy shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x imagine #peaky blinders x reader

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eccentricwritingbaby · 10 months ago

Text

family ties

lewis hamilton x reader

summary - lewis and y/n have been going out for about half a year and he can tell she’s hiding something, or somebody. her son, a little five year old boy that lewis so desperately wants to meet. but is y/n ready for that next step?

masterlist

it was a stormy london night, one that you so desperately wanted to stay in during, however you had gotten a call earlier that contradicted your feelings. lewis had informed you that he had a standing reservation at a fine restaurant in the city and he was eager to take you to it tonight. so here you were, slipping into a tasteful and beautiful black dress along with your heels, getting ready for your perfect man. everything was perfect. except for one little hidden detail. your son.

lewis knew you were withholding some sort of information from him, he just didn’t know the extent. he wanted you to tell him when you were ready, but he wasn’t sure of the seriousness with the situation. were you cheating on him? planning on leaving him? had a different identity? using him for his fame? he had no idea. and he was planning this nice outing tonight to finally get to the bottom of it.

“alright, he’s got everything he needs. just call me if anything happens,” you speak to your ex-boyfriend, alex, the father of your son as he drops by in order to pick dominic up for his weekend with him.

“y/n, we’ve been doing this for four years. i know the drill. you don’t have to worry about dom, i’ve got him,” alex says to you as he begins to leave.

“i know i know, i’m sorry. just a little paranoid, you know how it is,” you laugh off towards him as you both begin to walk out the door.

“i understand. i feel the same when he’s here,” alex shrugs as he begins to walk to his car, dominic already jumping by the door of it, excited to have his dad for the weekend, “have fun on your date tonight with the superstar,”

“oh shut up,” you laugh off to alex, “you know he’s not like that,”

“i know, i’m happy for you. just be careful with dom,”

“i already told you i wouldn’t introduce him until i talked to you,” you say to him, “and we haven’t had that talk yet, huh?”

“hey i’m not saying you can’t introduce him,” alex says to you, now getting into the drivers seat, “i’m just saying after my mistake with letting him get close to laura,” he trails off with an eye roll as you both laugh about the disaster. alex had let your son meet his girlfriend of a few months and they had hit it off, but it ended as quickly as it started once she left him. leaving dom in the dust as he cried more than alex about the breakup, “just be careful,” alex reiterates.

“i will be,” you smile at the two boys in the car, waving goodbye to them as they pull out of your driveway and into their weekend of fun. running back into the house, you finish touching up your makeup and hair, adding your jewelry, and layering your perfume before your doorbell rings. you exhale a sigh of relief, ready for a night of no stress and fun - a given when going out with lewis.

“hey, you,” you smile as you open the door, leading lewis into your home.

“you look beautiful, y/n,” he breathes out, his hands itching for your waist in order to bring you closer, “the reservation is for about seven thirty so we’ve got to get going,” you lean in closer to him, grabbing your purse off the hook and leading him out the door.

“you’re right,” you peck his lips quickly, locking up your house behind you, “can’t let sir lewis hamilton get a bad reputation of being late,”

“exactly,” he chuckles at your joke and yet his hands find your waist again, “but a few minutes can’t hurt,” and just like that, lewis spins you around to face him, bringing your lips to his yet again. once separated, you move gently past him to his car.

“are you coming or what?” you ask with a laugh, swaying towards his car as he admires the way you depart.

“oh i’m coming,” he sighs out, relishing in the way you walk and the way you look.

once seated at dinner, lewis was shaking in his seat wondering how he’d bring up your hidden actions. he had no proof and no sense to ruin what seemed to be your perfect night. you had been bubbly and upbeat the whole time, looking gorgeous and over the moon happy with seeing him. surely the thing you were being sketchy about couldn’t hurt him? right?

“look, y/n, there’s something i’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” lewis calmly puts into conversation as you begin to sip on the drink you had ordered.

“of course, what’s going on?” you ask him, assuming he would just bring up another weekend of travel or something along those lines.

“you’re clearly hiding something from me, y/n. and i want to know what it is,”

“lewis-” you try to cut in with an exasperated sigh, but instead he stops you, continuing his rambling.

“listen i know it’s only been a few months of us going out but-”

“lewis,” you try again, but his head was spinning and there was no way of stopping his mouth.

“if you’re cheating on me just say so, we can figure things out or-”

“LEWIS” you raise your voice loud enough to get his attention, without spooking the other diners around you, “i am not cheating on you,” you roughly say in his direction, your eyes not leaving the meal in front of you.

“then what is it,” he pushes, urging you to uncover your secret.

“it’s nothing like that,”

“can you look at me,” he directs, holding his hand out and taking yours with it, “please?” you look up at him, and all your strength dissipates within seconds.

“it’s not what you think,” you start, lacing your fingers with his to have some sort of grounding, “it is serious and that’s why i didn’t tell you,” his eyes stare back at you with comfort, pleading for you to continue without pushing you into uncomfort, “i-i”

“if it’s too much, y/n, you don’t have to tell me,”

“i want to tell you, i just don’t know how you’ll feel about me afterwards,”

“no matter what it is, i’m sure i’ll feel the same,”

“i have a son,”

“oh,” lewis retracts a bit, but not much, “how old?”

“he’s five, his name is dominic,” you go on.

“and his dad?”

“he’s around, he’s a good dad, just not a good boyfriend,” you laugh a little at your joke and keep going, “dom was an oopsie at the time, but since i had him he’s been a blessing. alex - that’s his dad’s name - he is a great dad. we just figured we were better friends. there was no real connection, we thought it would be better for dom if we were great co-parents rather than bad ‘together’ parents, so we split four years ago,”

“can i meet him?” lewis asks with a hopeful expression.

“dom?”

“yeah, i want to meet your son. i want to meet everyone important in your life, and that obviously includes him,”

“i don’t know, the reason it took so long for me to tell you was because i don’t want him to get too attached to someone who may leave, he’s at an age where consistency matters,”

“i am consistent, y/n. if you want me, i’m here forever. i promise that,” lewis oozes sincerity as he looks you in your eyes, giving you the reassurance needed to confirm what you already wanted.

“alright,” you sigh into your glass of wine, “you can meet him,” lewis lets out a quiet cheer of triumph across from you and you giggle at his antics, “but i must warn you,”

“what? anything, i’m ready,”

“he’s a redbull fan,”

“oh no, now that’ll have to change,”

“thank you for dropping him off,” you let out a breath of relief to alex as dom comes running into your home.

“you’re welcome, it was no problem, truly,” he says to you as he hands you your sons bag, “how’d your superstar date go?”

“he wants to meet dom,”

“oh?” alex shoots you a surprised look, “and are you going to let that happen?”

“i think so,” you shrug off, “i think it’s time,”

“good for you,” alex shoulder bumps you a little as he continues, “you deserve this, y/n. and from what you’ve told me about him, i’m sure it will all work out,”

“yeah i hope so, he’s going to come over later if that’s okay with you?”

“my son meeting sir lewis hamilton,” alex states as he begins to walk out the door, “that is more than okay with me,”

“dom? i need to talk to you about something,” you approach your five year old as he is playing in the living room with his toys.

“what mommy?” he questions without looking up, the toys in front of him grabbing his interest.

“someone wants to meet you,” you start with caution, “and he’s coming over in a minute,”

“who?”

“well…” you ponder off, not exactly knowing the right words to piece together, “he’s mommy’s special friend,”

“like laura with daddy?”

“yes!” you cheer out quickly, excited that he grasped the concept easily, “he’s like how laura was to daddy,”

“okay,” dom lets out, “is he nice?”

“yes, love,” you nod your head for the emphasis as your son gazes up at you, “he’s very nice,”

just as you finish your thought, the doorbell to your home echoes and you and dom share a look.

“best behavior, dom,” you warn with a pointed finger as he just giggles in your direction. getting up to go and get the door, your little boy trails behind you with a bit of excitement.

“hi, lewis,” you greet your boyfriend as you open the door, “come on in,”

“thank you,” he chimes in, clearly hiding something behind him, “and who is this?” he asks in the direction of your legs. with that, dom comes out of his hiding place behind you in order to greet him.

“i’m dominic,” he squeaks out shyly. lewis proceeds to get down to his knees, holding one hand still behind his back and the other out in front of him for a handshake.

“i’m lewis, it’s nice to meet you dominic,”

“i know who you are,” dom quietly says back while shaking his hand, still shy towards the new man in front of him.

“oh you do?” your boyfriend questions back.

“you drive for mercedes,”

“yes i do,” lewis smiles at him, sneaking a glance in your direction as you can’t help but blush at the scene in front of you, “are you a formula one fan?”

“yes,” dom giggles, “but i like checo,”

“oh man,” lewis shakes his head a bit, “then this gift is going to go to waste,”

dom’s ears perk up at that, eyes widening as he asks with enthusiasm, “what gift?” lewis laughs a bit at the question and finally pulls his other arm from behind his back to reveal a bag.

“why don’t we move to the couch to open it?” you put into the room, encouraging the boys to relax a bit as you gesture towards your living room. they do as you ask, moving towards the living room and perching onto the couch. you take a seat next to your son as lewis sits across from him and you on the coffee table. handing dom the bag, he begins to unwrap and look into it, finally seeing the very small and adorable hamilton mercedes jersey.

“I LOVE IT,” your son cries out, jumping off the couch and crashing into lewis’ awaited hold. as he hugs your son, you can only smile as this night had gone better than you’d hoped.

‘thank you’ you mouth towards lewis, who only laughs and smiles in your direction, hugging your son closer to his body. everything would be fine. lewis was ready for forever with you. and you had just seen your forever fully accept him into your lives.

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elodieunderglass · 2 years ago

Note

Hey bestie whats a narrow boat? I saw you tag that on something you reblogged and I'm pretty curious now!

- Terry Darlington, Narrow Dog to Carcassone

A narrowboat (all one word) is a craft restricted to the British Isles, which are connected all over by a nerve-map of human-made canals. To go up and down hills, the canals are spangled with locks (chambers in which boats can be raised or lowered by filling or emptying them with water.) As Terry says above, the width of the locks was somewhat randomly determined, and as a result, the British Isles have a narrow design of lock - and a narrowboat to fit through them. A classic design was seventy feet long and six feet wide. Starting in the 18th century, and competing directly with trains, canal “barges” were an active means of transport and shipping. They were initially pulled along the towpaths by horses, and you can still see some today!

Later, engines were developed.

Even after the trains won the arms race, it was a fairly viable freight service right up until WW2. It’s slow travel, but uses few resources and requires little human power, with a fairly small crew (of women, in WW2) being capable of shifting two fully laden boats without consuming much fossil fuel.

In those times the barges were designed with small, cramped cabins in which the boaters and their families could live.

During its heyday the narrowboat community developed a style of folk art called “roses and castles” with clear links to fairground art as well as Romani caravan decor. They are historically decorated with different kinds of brass ornaments, and inside the cabins could also be distinctively painted and decorated.

Today, many narrowboats are distinctively decorated and colorful - even if not directly traditional with “roses and castles” they’ll still be bright and offbeat. A quirky name is necessary. All narrowboats, being boats, are female.

After a postwar decline, interest in the waterways was sparked by a leisure movement and collapsing canals were repaired. Today, the towpaths are a convenient walking/biking trail for people, as they connect up a lot of the mainland of the UK, hitting towns and cities. Although the restored canals are concrete-bottomed, they’re attractive to wildlife. Narrowboats from the 1970s onward started being designed for pleasure and long-term living. People enjoy vacationing by hiring a boat and visiting towns for a cuter, comfier, slower version of a campervan life. And a liveaboard community sprang up - people who live full-time on boats. Up until the very restrictive and nasty laws recently passed in the UK to make it harder for travelling peoples (these were aimed nastily at vanlivers and the Romani, and successfully hit everyone) this was one of the few legal ways remaining to be a total nomad in the UK.

Liveaboards can moor up anywhere along the canal for 28 days, but have to keep moving every 28 days. (Although sorting out the toilet and loading up with fresh water means that a lot of people move more frequently than that.) you can also live full-time in a marina if they allow it, or purchase your own mooring. In London, where canal boats are one of the few remaining cheapish ways to live, boats with moorings fetch the same prices as houses. It can be very very hard for families to balance school, parking, work, and all the difficulties of living off-grid- but many make it work. It remains a diverse community and is even growing, due to housing pressures in the UK. Boats can be very comfortable, even when only six feet wide. When faced with spending thousands of pounds on rent OR mooring up on a nice canal, you can see why it seems a romantic proposition for young people, and UK television channels always have slice-of-life documentaries about young folks fixing up their very own quirky solar-powered narrowboat. I don’t hate; I did it myself.

If you’re lucky, you might even meet some of the cool folks who run businesses from their narrowboats: canal-side walkers enjoy bookshops, vegan bakeries, ice-cream boats, restaurants, artists and crafters. There are Floating Markets and narrowboat festivals. It’s generally recognised that boaters contribute quite a lot to the canal - yet there are many tensions between different kinds of boaters (liveaboards vs leisure boaters vs tourists) as well as tensions with local settled people, towpath users like cyclists, and fishermen. I could go on and on explaining this rich culture and dramas, but I won’t.

Phillip Pullman’s Gyptians are a commonly cited example of liveaboards - although they were based on the narrowboat liveaboards that Pullman knew in Oxford, their boats are actually Dutch barges. Dutch barges make good homes but are too wide to access most of the midlands and northern canals, and are usually restricted to the south of the UK. So they’re accurate for Bristol/London/Oxford, and barges are definitely comfier to film on. (Being six feet wide is definitely super awkward for a boat.) but in general Dutch barges are less common, more expensive and can’t navigate the whole system.

However, apart from them, there are few examples of narrowboat depictions that escaped containment. So it’s quite interesting that there is an entire indigenous special class of boat, distinctive and highly specialised and very cute, with an associated culture and heritage and folk art type, known to all and widely celebrated, and ABSOLUTELY UNKNOWN outside of the UK - a nation largely known around the world for inflicting its culture on others. They’re a strange, sweet little secret - and nobody who has ever loved one can resist pointing them out for the rest of their lives, or talking about them when asked to. Thank you for asking me to.

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hairmetal666 · 1 year ago

Text

Eddie stands at the bar, sipping at the whisky in his glass, eyes flickering over the crush of bodies and dark mahogany. He's at a premier party at TIFF, doesn't remember what movie it's for, is supposed to "mingle" according to his agent. And sure, he's charismatic, got a big personality and a loud mouth, but he's not good at networking; resents having to perform when he's not playing a role. Resents it more that he's an Oscar nominated actor, that his work doesn't stand for itself.

And then there's the Steve Harrington of it all. Heartthrob. America's Sweetheart. The boy next door. He's across the room, deep in conversation, but his eyes--they keep finding Eddie, scanning him with unmistakable heat.

They starred in a movie called Dying on the Pass. Played life-long best friends who became elite chefs and opened a restaurant together. The movie follows the dissolution of their friendship as the stresses of pursuing a Michelin Star drive them apart. It was a critical and commercial hit, cue awards noms, and offers pouring in, and--

Steve Harrington is his bed.

They promised, when filming wrapped. They swore it was the last time. They promised--

They basically shared a hotel room during awards season, woke up tangled together every morning.

They spent a torrid weekend in Atlanta after Steve wrapped on a Netflix action movie.

Six months after, they had a quick, furious fuck in the bathroom at a club in London.

Dangerous, stupid, but no one caught them. And here Steve is in Toronto, surrounded by press, staring at Eddie like he wants to eat him.

Eddie tries to ignore it. But every time their eyes meet, warmth pools low in his abdomen, and he wants.

They meet up eventually, pose for a couple of pictures, Eddie trying to ignore the way his skin tingles everywhere that Steve touches. Steve slings an arm around his waist, lets it linger.

After, Eddie goes out for a smoke, the patio blissfully deserted. He's half way through his cigarette when Steve steps out the sliding door, wrapping his hands in Eddie's hair, pulling him into a kiss. The cigarette drops as he grips onto the other man, a whimper slipping from his lips.

He should stop this, they're outside, anyone could see, and Steve isn't out--isn't--he's straight to the entire world, the straightest man alive. And Eddie, he's open about his preferences, identifies as queer, though lately he's been more interested in men--in one man, specifically-- and Steve isn't out, isn't ready to be and--

"Come back to my room?" Steve asks. Their mouths are still pressed together.

"Uh-huh," Eddie answers.

Steve whispers his room number before disappearing back inside. They're in the same hotel, on the same floor, like the universe wants them to keep hooking up. But Steve is being reckless.

Eddie goes to Steve that night with every intention of telling him they need to stop, to slow down, that they're going to get caught and he knows Steve isn't ready, but he doesn't. He doesn't that night and he doesn't two months later when they bump into each other in Venice, or four months after that in New York, or--or --or

It's dangerous, impulsive, too many close calls for them to keep it up and then--and then he's at a house party in the hills, an industry thing, the host is a wannabe big shot producer trying to get in good with the Hollywood elite. Steve is out of town. In Europe filming or maybe Australia for some event or--

Striding through the party, eyes locked on Eddie, and they're in a hallway, in a hallway where anyone could see them, but Steve is kissing him. They're kissing and it's rough and possessive and it stings.

Steve pushes him through double-doors, to the room at their backs, and Eddie wants to protest, to remind him they don't know if it's empty. But Steve is tugging the tie out of Eddie's hair, digging this hands into the now loose curls, and Eddie whines, lets himself be lead.

He's pushed against a table, and in the weak light from the windows, he realizes they're in the dining room. Steve grinds against him, muttering, "missed you so much, baby. God, it's been too long. Need you so bad."

Eddie moans, shifting to press more against Steve. "Missed you too, sweetheart, fuck."

They're kissing and Eddie's high on it, on Steve, can't get enough.

There's a loud burst of laughter outside the door, and reality smashes back into focus.

"Stop," he whispers to Steve.

Steve does in an instant, stepping back. Even in the darkness, Eddie sees the confusion and hurt mingling in the squint of his eyes, his light frown.

"Steve we--this is dangerous. There are people everywhere. Anyone could come in. There's a TMZ guy here, and we--need to be careful."

"Fuck," Steve breathes. "Eddie I--fuck." He presses his hand over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. "I can't get enough of you, man. Whenever I see you I just--I don't think--I see you and I want you so bad it hurts. Once every few months isn't enough. Hookups aren't enough. And I know that's not what we agreed to, and--"

"Steve," Eddie gently cuts him off. "I'm crazy about you. It hasn't been hookups for me for--" ever, it had never been, but he shakes his head instead of saying that. "But we've been reckless, sweetheart, and I don't want to see you hurt."

"It's not fair to you, though, right? Hiding and sneaking around with me."

"You need time, Steve. You deserve to come out on your terms, when you're ready. And if that means we're not public for a while, then we're not."

"What if I'm never ready?" He whispers. It breaks Eddie's heart, but it's a fair question for a man who got famous as an angelic child star in a series of fantasy-adventure movies before playing a quarterback with a heart-of-gold on the CW for seven seasons. He's always kept up a squeaky clean image, never in trouble, name rarely in the tabloids.

"Then we'll deal with it together."

"Okay," Steve whispers. A smile spreads slow across his face. "I'd like that."

Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are seen around town together often. Getting lunch, at parties, shopping. In an interview Steve says that Eddie's his best friend, they do everything together. There's speculation online, of course, but it's pretty quiet. So, they go to premiers and award shows and events together.

A year goes by and it's easy, light, fun. They're in love.

Eddie's messing around on his guitar, not with any intent just for the joy of it. He's on the loveseat in the office of their apartment--their apartment. Steve is in the kitchen, he thinks, or puttering in the garden.

They haven't talked about Steve coming out; haven't needed to.

"Hey," Steve says from the doorway. Eddie jumps.

"Hey yourself."

"It's Bi Visibility day."

"Is it now?" He's not sure where this is going

"I want to come out."

He puts the guitar down. "You sure?"

Steve nods. He doesn't seem nervous, just calm and steady.

"How do you want to do it?"

He crosses the room, climbing onto Eddie's lap, making Eddie laugh. "Works for me." Eddie gives Steve's ass a playful squeeze.

They start kissing then, Steve snapping pics on his phone randomly as they make out.

Steve won't let Eddie peak as he crafts his Insta post, not until it's done and live for his 15 million followers.

The picture he picked, it's a soft kiss, mouths open but lips only just brushing, noses pressed together in a sweet little bump. But the thing about, the thing that makes Eddie's stomach swoop, is the way they're both smiling, the way it's obvious just how in love they are.

Steve's captioned it with the words "Witness Me" and the bi flag.

He pulls his boy into another kiss, says, "Hey,"

"Hmm?" Steve doesn't pull away.

"Wanna go be visibly bisexual with me in the bedroom?"

Steve hops off his lap, strides across the room, turning to flash Eddie a devious smile. "Thought you'd never ask."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #actors steve harrington and eddie munson #costars #hooking up #fluff #costars to lovers #idiots in love #feelings confession #coming out #bisexual steve harrington #it's not bi visibility day but i liked eddie using it as a come on #famous steve harrington #famous eddie munson #i don't totally know what this is

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flemingology · 5 months ago

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blurb request! a soft one where leah comes home from international break and spends the evening with r. maybe then have a cute movie night with pizza and cuddle on the sofa with a blanket draped over them? just overall cutesy and lovey dovey haha 💗

home is where you are ─ leah williamson x reader

in which: leah and you reunite after the international break

warnings: none

wc: 1.3k

Leah loved playing for England. She loved putting the shirt on, feeling the weight of the badge on her chest, wearing the captain's armband with pride. She loved winning with England. Whether that was a useless friendly, a Nations League group stage game or a major tournament, Leah was addicted to winning. But the thing that Leah loved most about her international breaks, was the prospect of coming back home to you after being away for the best part of two weeks.

The weight of what had been a grueling 14 days rest heavily on her shoulders. Sarina upped the intensity in training off the back of what had been a disappointing camp back in November. Leah wasn't one to shy away from training hard, but it had taken its toll on her body. It was the first time since her ACL injury that the England captain had played a good, consecutive run of games and she was starting to feel the consequences. She was happy, beyond happy, that her body finally felt like it had before her surgery. No more setbacks, no niggles, just her body, her knee and herself working back towards the level she was at before the dreaded injury.

Leah was lost in thought as she expertly navigated the streets of your neighborhood, her limbs aching more with each turn she took, as if her body knew that she was nearing home with each passing minute. She parked the car in the driveway and exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding in as she saw your car was there too. You had your own international break to attend, traveling to Spain for your own camp, so she was relieved to find out you'd made it home safely. You hadn't really texted today, the both of you caught up in traveling home, too busy thinking about the prospect of being in each other's arms again at night.

The defender took her bags out of the trunk and locked her car behind her, crossing the driveway to the front door in a quick few strides. Leah knocked on the door, not finding the energy in her to fish out her house keys that were probably somewhere at the bottom of her England backpack. The cold London air nipped at her exposed legs, silently cursing herself for not having changed into a pair of sweatpants before she left St George's Park.

Leah got pulled out of her thoughts as you opened the front door, dressed in one of her old Arsenal sweaters and a pair of fuzzy sweatpants. Your hair was slightly tousled from where you had been lounging on the couch, waiting for your girlfriend to come home. Your lips formed a small smile and Leah didn't bother saying anything before she dropped her bags on the ground and pulled you into a tight embrace.

She soaked you in, the warmth of your body spreading towards hers as she buried her face in your neck and inhaled your scent, which she had to miss for the past two weeks. "Hey, baby," you said softly, your Spanish accent laced through your voice as you spoke the defender's mother tongue. She pulled you tighter against her, mumbling something incoherently against the exposed skin of your neck, pressing a couple soft kisses there before pulling her head away and looking you in the eye. "I missed you so much," she voiced. Not awaiting your reply, she rested her hands on both sides of your waist and pulled you closer, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

You'd never get tired of kissing Leah. The way her lips perfectly captured yours time and time again, it always made you feel like you were made for each other. She let her hands roam across your back and then settled them on your bum. You pulled back a couple moments later for some air, and you breathlessly leant your forehead against your girlfriend's. "Can we go inside, please? I'm getting quite cold," Leah chuckled.

Leah and you spent the rest of the evening cuddled up on the couch, telling each other about everything that happened while you spent two weeks away from each other. You ordered pizzas, opened a bottle of red wine and enjoyed your evening together.

"You can't leave me again." Leah's voice startled you as you were engrossed in the movie she had put on earlier. "Hmm?" You cocked your eyes at her. "You know, for football. You can't leave the country anymore. I miss you too much." You let out a breathy laugh and snuggled a bit deeper into her chest. "I missed you too. Spain was nice, but not nicer than here. Although it was a welcome change from all the rain."

One of Leah's hands ran through your hair while the other rested comfortably on the small of your back. You were nudged in between her legs with your head on her chest, one of your hands on the side of her face. You couldn't possibly get any closer to one another, but you wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

"I hate it when you leave. When we're not together. I know it sounds cheesy, but I just feel like a part of me is missing," Leah whispered. The room was dark, only slightly illuminated by the tv, but you could feel the sincerity in your girlfriend's gaze and words. You sit up a little and cupped her cheeks with both hands. "I will never leave you for a reason other than football or family, mi amor." You pressed a soft kiss against her lips and tried to pour all the love and adoration you had for her in the moment. Leah's hands gripped your waist tightly like she was scared you were going to leave again if she didn't hold on tight.

"Next month, just come with me. I'm sure we can get the club to fake an injury or something." You chuckled at your girlfriend's suggestion, but soon quieted down when you sensed she was being serious. "Le, you know I can't do that. As much as I love you, and I'd love to spend every moment of every day with you, I have my own football career too. And I know, deep down, that you want me to do good."

Leah sighed dramatically, throwing her head back against the arm rest of the couch. "Ugh. I guess?" She drew out the syllables of her words, feigning annoyance but you didn't miss the slight smile that crept up her lips. "Te amo, mi vida. So much. I'm yours. Forever." Leah's eyes locked with yours and you didn't miss the unshed tears that were pooling there. You brushed your thumbs over her cheeks and pressed kisses all over her face, whispering soft reassurances and declarations of your love her between the presses of your lips against her delicate skin.

No matter how many times the two of you would have to spend international breaks apart, the prospect of coming home to her was one you'd never, ever get used to or take for granted. Nothing felt more like home like Leah's arms, laying in her embrace under a soft blanket on the couch. Soft kisses and whispers shared while nursing a glass of wine, munching on some pizza that definitely wasn't on your meal plan for the week. But you wouldn't have it any other way.

#woso #woso community #woso imagine #woso x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #arsenal wfc #arsenal wfc x reader #engwnt #lionesses #lionesses x reader #engwnt x reader

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loafysainz · 3 months ago

Text

the parent trap (remake) END | CS 55

cast: carlos sainz x fem!reader

warn: 100% fiction & remake

prev chap

Part 19 Our Happy Ending

The rain poured steadily, a soft but persistent reminder that summer was coming to an end. It wasn't just the season changing—the air felt heavier, thick with the kind of sadness that came with saying goodbye.

Carlos held Mattia tightly, his arms wrapped around his son as if he could somehow freeze this moment in time. Mattia didn’t pull away either, his fingers gripping the back of his father’s jacket like he was memorizing the texture. But they both knew—no matter how badly they wanted to stay like this, they couldn’t.

Just a few feet away, Matheo was locked in an equally tight embrace with their mother. Matheo clung to her, his face buried in her shoulder, like he was trying to breathe her in. Neither of them spoke, but everything they needed to say passed between them in the silence. When he finally pulled away, Matheo met Mattia’s eyes across the small distance. It was time.

The boys turned to each other, stepping forward in sync, and without hesitation, wrapped each other in a hug. It wasn’t a goodbye—more like a promise. They had made a deal, and now, it was time to keep it.

Matheo gave a small, sad smile, and Mattia mirrored it. Neither of them liked this plan, but they were doing it anyway. One last squeeze, and then Matheo reached for the umbrella, popping it open with a soft ‘whoosh’ as he prepared to walk Mattia to the waiting taxi.

Under the shelter of the umbrella, Mattia glanced ahead. Martin and Chessy were there, saying their own goodbyes, making everything feel even more final. The taxi idled by the curb, its engine a low hum against the sound of the rain.

At the entrance of the house, Y/N had stepped forward, lingering near the door. Carlos met her gaze, a beat of hesitation stretching between them. The tension was there, heavy and unspoken, tangled up in years of history. Y/N was the first to break it. “Take care,” she said, her voice level but distant.

Carlos seeing her for a moment, before nodding slightly. “Yeah... thanks.”

Y/N looked at him then—actually looked at him—for the first time that night. It lasted only a second before she extended a hand. There was another pause, brief but loaded, before Carlos reached out and shook it. Firm. Final.

With that, Y/N turned away. She opened her own umbrella and stepped into the rain, walking towards the taxi where Mattia was waiting. Before getting in, she crouched beside her son, brushing soft hair away from his face. “I love you,” she reminded to Matheo, because she needed to say it one more time.

Matheo nodded, blinking rapidly, not trusting himself to speak.

Y/N climbed into the taxi, and watching as the door clicked shut. The driver put the car into gear, the wheels splashing against the wet pavement as the vehicle pulled away.

Inside the house, Carlos and Chessy stood just past the doorway, watching as the taxi disappeared down the street. The house suddenly felt quieter, emptier. It wasn’t a goodbye forever, they knew that. But it still felt like one.

*****

When they arrived in London, the rain never left them. It clung to their clothes, misted the windows of the taxi, and filled the silence between Y/N and Mattia. The entire trip had been like this—quiet, heavy, with emotions neither of them dared to voice. Y/N caught glimpses of her son wiping away a few stray tears, but she said nothing. What could she say?

They stepped into the house, shaking off the rain, yet the silence stayed. Y/N closed her umbrella, glancing around. Something felt off.

"Dad?" she called, placing the umbrella by the door. The lack of response unsettled her. "Dad? Where are you?"

Mattia, his small voice filled with uncertainty, called out next, "Grandpa?"

Y/N frowned, her instincts sharpening. She gestured toward the living room. "Stay here, baby. I’ll go check his office."

The boy nodded and sank onto the couch, swinging his legs nervously. Meanwhile, Y/N walked down the hall, already guessing where she'd find him. The office door was ajar, and inside, someone sat reading a newspaper.

"Dad, you worried me for a moment!" Y/N said, relieved—until the paper lowered, revealing not her father, but Matheo.

Y/N froze.

Her son, comfortably leaning back in the chair, shot her an easy grin. "Hey, Mom. Did you know the train gets you here in half the time?"

Y/N blinked, her mind scrambling. "Y—yeah. Something like that."

Before she could fully process Matheo’s presence, Mattia peeked into the room. His eyes widened. "What are you doing here?"

Matheo stood up, stretching like he had all the time in the world. "Oh, you know, when you guys left, it took us about thirty seconds to realize we didn’t want to lose you again."

"Us?" Y/N repeated, confused.

A familiar voice answered from the doorway.

"That’s right."

Y/N turned so fast she nearly lost her footing. Carlos stood there, hands in his pockets, an unreadable expression on his face. The air seemed to thicken between them.

"I was wrong," Carlos admitted. "Not looking for you sooner—I won’t make the same mistake again."

Y/N felt something in her heart tighten. She clenched her jaw, willing herself to keep it together, to not let this moment break her. But then Carlos took a small step closer, and suddenly it was too much.

She swallowed hard, her throat tight. "And I suppose now you want my legs to shake? To throw myself into your arms, crying so hard?"

Carlos said nothing. Just watched her. Just waited.

Y/N let out a breathy, almost bitter laugh. "And let me guess, this is the part where everything magically falls into place? Where we take care of our beautiful children together and live happily ever after? Grow old and—"

Y/N words caught in her throat as she looked into Carlos’ eyes, the weight of everything pressing down on her. A few tears slipped past her defenses.

Carlos didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward and cupped Y/N’ face in his hands, thumbs brushing gently against her cheeks. "Yes," he said simply. "Together. And everything you just said. But Y/N—" his voice softened, "you don’t have to cry."

Y/N let out a shaky breath, feeling the warmth of Carlos’ hands against her skin. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t pull away.

Carlos searched her face for a moment, then, without hesitation, leaned in. The kiss was slow, careful—like he was afraid Y/N might shatter. But Y/N didn’t move away. Instead, she melted into it, her fingers curling around the fabric of Carlos’ shirt, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping her upright.

It wasn’t just a kiss; it was an apology, a promise, a plea for forgiveness all in one. When they finally pulled apart, breathless, Carlos rested his forehead against Y/N’, his hands still cradling her face.

"We’ll figure it out," Carlos whispered. "Together."

Y/N exhaled shakily, eyes searching his. "You better mean that."

Carlos smiled softly. "I do."

Mattia’s heart was pounding in his chest, his breath catching in his throat. But looking at everything around him—the warmth, the laughter, the overwhelming joy—he knew it had all been worth it. He collapsed onto the couch beside his twin brother, exhaling deeply.

Next to him, Matheo practically vibrated with excitement. He wanted to scream, to jump up and down, to let all the built-up anticipation explode out of him, but he held back. Instead, he flashed a grin so wide it hurt his cheeks.

“We did it,” he said, barely above a whisper, the words filled with nothing but pride and relief.

****

The ship rocked gently on the water, just like it had all those years ago. Only this time, instead of two strangers meeting for the first time, it was two people who had always belonged together—finally finding their way back.

Y/N stood on the deck, the ocean breeze making her veil flutter behind her. She was radiant, laughing softly as Carlos brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. His eyes, full of the same love he had for her when they first met, never wavered.

“Déjà vu?” he teased, tilting his head.

She smirked. “Except this time, I know exactly what I’m getting myself into.”

“And?”

Y/N pretended to consider before she grinned. “I’d say it’s worth the risk.”

Behind them, Martin dramatically dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief, while Chessy leaned into him, smirking. “If I start crying, punch me,” she whispered.

Martin sniffled. “No promises.”

The ceremony was simple, perfect—just family, just love, just them. As Carlos and Y/N exchanged vows (for the second time), the twins squeezed each other’s hands, their hearts nearly bursting.

When their parents sealed it with a kiss, the entire deck erupted into cheers. Matheo and Mattia whooped, jumping up and down like they’d just won the lottery.

Laughter echoed across the deck, champagne glasses clinked, and somewhere in the background, soft music played. It was the kind of moment you’d want to freeze in time forever.

And, of course, Matheo and Mattia had ‘just’ the idea for that.

“Picture time!” Matheo announced, grabbing the camera. “We need a new wedding album, people!”

Carlos chuckled, pulling Y/N closer. “Didn’t we already have one?”

Mattia grinned. “Yeah, but this time, we get to be in it.”

The first photo was classic—Carlos dipping Y/N into a kiss, just like their wedding day years ago. The twins groaned dramatically but still smiled, knowing this was the moment they had dreamed about.

Next up, absolute chaos.

Martin and Chessy were caught mid-laugh, the former dramatically clutching Y/N’s father, who looked equal parts confused and amused. Chessy was leaning into Martin, wiping away fake tears. “I swore I wouldn’t cry,” she deadpanned, right as the flash went off.

“Too late,” Martin sniffed.

Then came the big family photo—Carlos, Y/N, the twins, Grandpa, Chessy, Martin, and even Sammy the dog, who somehow made it into the frame at the last second. Matheo and Mattia stood front and center, identical grins on their faces, arms wrapped around each other.

One last shot—just the twins. Mattia held up a peace sign, Matheo flashed a thumbs-up. They glanced at each other right before the shutter clicked, both thinking the exact same thing.

‘We did it.’

Because, after everything, this was their happy ending.

OMG GUYSSS WE MADE IT!!! 🤍🤍🤍 I still can't believe this story is officially DONE. Thank you so much for sticking around, for all the love, the comments, the reactions—literally everything. Y’all made this journey 1000x more fun, and I couldn’t have done it without you 🫶

See you in my next work! 😉 if you have any requests, feel free to drop them! My request box always open for ideas—I’d love to hear what you guys wanna see next 🤍

#f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz x reader #f1 fluff #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #cs55 #f1 x reader

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landograndprix · 1 year ago

Text

╰┈➤ ❝ desire • l.n c.l ❞ x

part nine - part eleven

➪ Charles hasn't paid much attention to you after your daughter was born but a certain Brit does.

➪ and while there's a lot of things you still need to work on, this is a great start to the new, beter chapters of your life

➪ established relationship mom!reader x dad!Charles x lando

➪ I think we needed a lil' cute to calm our tits 🥰 also, absolutely gobsmacked by the love this fic is getting and how involved you all are with it, you guys are seriously the best and I love y'all so much 😘

➽────────────────────────❥

y/nusername posted to their story

milliexoxo replied to your story

milliexoxo

someone's getting laid tonight

guessing you're not coming home tonight 🤪

y/nusername

go back to your coloring book

milliexoxo

wow, okay..I see how it is

no but seriously, are you coming back tonight or are you staying with lando so I can double lock the house lmao

y/nusername

staying in monaco, will be back tomorrow

milliexoxo

nice, I'll see you tomorrow then

have fun and don't do things I wouldn't do 😘

y/nusername

okay mom 😘

➽────────────────────────❥

y/nusername

📍 London, United Kingdom

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell and 539,678 others

y/nusername fifty shades of earl grey. 🇬🇧

tagged: landonorris, milliexoxo

view all 2,001 comments

norry4 cute, lando took them to England 😭

milliexoxo talk british to me

milliexoxo not pictured, y/n losing her mind over a bookshop

↳ y/nusername that wasn't a shop, that was heaven.

milliexoxo okay..nerd

landoscar i agree with y/n, every book shop is heaven

yukisan girl stop bullying your mom, we've warned you before 😭

milliexoxo I'm a rebel, I don't listen to no one

y/nusername big imagination for such a little girl

norrizz god I just know zoë is getting spoiled by stepdad lando 😭

carlandooo Charles crying in a corner rn

↳ charliecharlie I mean that's his own fault lmfao

carlandooo true 💀

bradleyfewtrell please tell me you met max 😂

↳ landomax I just know millie will bully max relentlessly 😂

bradleyfewtrell and I just know y/n would get along with max and pietra so well!

norrizzlandoo lando and zoë 😭😭

➽────────────────────────❥

milliexoxo

like by y/nusername, logansargeant and 2,671 others

milliexoxo your typical tourist on tour.

tagged: landonorris, y/nusername, maxfewtrell

maxwellmax lmfao yes max 💀

landonorris ❤️ I nodnol?

↳ milliexoxo oh my god you're so funny lando!!!!!!!

norry4 took me a second 😂

landonorizzzz he's taking his annoying stepdad duties seriously 😭

landoscar I feel sorry for the people who don't follow millie and miss out on all this

charlieslec did she just casually expose lando and y/n??

↳ norry4 are you new here? 😂

maxfewtrell but why?

↳ milliexoxo because I can 🥰

yukisan are we all just going to ignore the fact that Logan Sargeant is hiding in the likes? Yes? Cool 😭

➽────────────────────────❥

y/nusername

📍 Miami, FL

liked by riabish, landonorris and 609,578 others

y/nusername week 6. 🇺🇸

tagged: landonorris

view all 1,922 comments

landonorizzzz aw lando finally made it to the feed normally instead of the soft launch bullshit 😇

charlesgirlies zoë 🥺😭

milliexoxo look at my girlfriend living her best life, floating around ❤️

norry4 are we official? Hellooo can I finally fully unleash thr landoy/n shipper in me?! 🥺

yourmumsuser my little zoë 🤩🤩

chilisainz zoe being the unbothered queen that she is

landonorris my girls ❤️

↳ landoscar SHUT UP SHUT THE FUCK UP SHUT UUUUUUUP 😭

yesrislando brb going to take a bath with my toaster

maxmaxmax man's really pulled a max and stole another driver's girl and child 💀

➽────────────────────────❥

Desire taglist; @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @writingworlds @chezmardybum @lewisvinga @xjval @fanficweasley @rockyhayzkid @aundercover @thecubanator2 @minchedchilli @crimeshowjunkie @alisoncasey21 @eeviepepi08 @shamelesspotatos @sleepybrokenmelle @leireggsworld @janeholt3 @iamahalicinationn @dessxoxsworld @kapsylia @22yuki @dark-night-sky-99 @sheslikeacurse @nerdreader

Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @softboystarkey @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @harrysdimple05 @minkyungseokie @pretty-little-bunny382728 @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @severewobblerlightdragon @cherry-piee @namgification @mycenterfold @devineendevers

Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10 @bored-brunette2 @i83andrew

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #lando x reader #charles x reader

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siddhigirls · 3 months ago

Text

biggest fan

J.B x fem!reader

warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), breeding, praising i.e good girl. lmk if i forgot any.

there you were, in the crowded stadium, watching your favourite football team playing and in the lead of the first half. during the halftime break you went on your phone as your boyfriend talks about how shit the other team is playing, you don’t pay much attention to him because someone else has your attention.

there he was, in all of his glory, your biggest celebrity crush— although you are a celebrity yourself you can’t help but fangirl over him. you were pretty close to the field so you could see him clear, he takes off his shirt to show off his perfect physique and you can’t help but drool. fans scream for his name behind you but it was just completely muffled in your head because all you could think of is how good he could fuck you. bellingham was walking your way to talk to fans, you play it cool but internally you were screaming. he comes up to talk to all the fans and sign autographs, stuff like that until he met with your eyes. “wait- aren’t you y/n y/l/n?” he asks, ‘holy shit he knows me’ you said in your head, you were classy though, you shook his hand “yes i am, nice to meet you.” giving him a friendly smile, he smiled back with his perfect teeth, matching your body language.

body leaned towards you, hand resting on the gate, his grip firm, intertwined with yours. you let go as your boyfriend also introduces himself.

you were fairly humble regardless of your countless movie roles, you were the talk of celebrity news. you have no social media presence, raising intriguing thoughts with a lot of your fans, especially bellingham. he was no saint when it comes to you, he constantly thinks about ways to get you, he loved that you were deemed the media’s secret desire. your thoughts were crowded by how you could get bellingham alone so you could show how much of a big fan you were.

months after the game many things have changed, there were rumours that jude had a new girlfriend, you and your ex broke up, yet you were still talked about by many.

you were in london, as it was your favourite place in the entire world, you were at a pub, having a glass of wine to yourself until you got a text from your friend that lived in london. he was having a big party and he was inviting you, mentioning that many celebrities would come. usually you’d decline and just stay at home and listen to the rain hit the window of your little apartment in the middle of piccadilly circus; but you wanted a change of scenery. forcing yourself to pay your tab and go home and get ready for whatever the night has in for you.

you got out the cab to see your friends place in the middle of nowhere, huge house towering over you and music loud enough to hear a kilometre away, you walked in, chin up high. you were never a nervous person, you were always very secure in yourself and knew you were a prize. you let yourself in to see multiple A-list celebrities in dresses from brands that aren’t even known to you, all talking to each other. you locked eyes with your friend and he gave you a warm welcome, kissing your hand and telling you how gorgeous you look tonight. “y/n darling, i swear you get more beautiful and beautiful as the time passes by, the bar is right there, help yourself to absolutely anything, if you want time alone you know where the guest bedroom is”

you nodded in response as you look at the people mingling. your friend was a football journalist so you expected to see a lot of football players in the room. you made your way to the bar and asked for an old fashioned, you decided to go outside your comfort zone so you spoke to the person that was right next to you. you recognized that clean haircut anywhere.

“hi bellingham” he turned around to lock with your eyes, butterflies in your tummy once again. “you again, you know pablo?” you nodded in response, “fancy seeing your face again, where’s your boyfriend?” he asked. you raised your eyebrows and said “oh we broke up a few days after the game.” you turned your body fully to him as he mirrors your action.

“you don’t understand how long i’ve been thinking about this” jude breathlessly says in between kisses as he brings you in the guest bedroom of your friends house, the moonlight shining through the blowing curtains, cold air hitting your skin, hardening your nipples making them peak through your skin tight dress. your beautiful perfume intoxicating jude’s nostrils, often going down to your neck and kissing it. “fuck jude me neither.”

slamming you against the wall as he pushes your dress up, you spread your legs apart for him like you were reading his mind, he kneeled down, looking at your clothed pussy with your wetness seeping through. he couldn’t wait any longer, ripping off your lace panties and starts teasing his dick against your right wet pussy. he entered you feeling your pussy swallowing his dick immediately, like your pussy was made for his dick. you looked down to watch him quickly thrust into you, turning you on even more at the sight. you couldn’t help but not keep quiet, his hand making its way to your mouth and holding it tight. “i know baby it feels good but i need you to keep quiet, no need for interruption. need to take my time with you- fucking christ you feel amazing” he purrs in your ear.

it was so full of passion— like you were meant to have sex with him. your pussy was getting stretched out by his thick cock consistently thrusting into you, you clenched on to him not being able to old your cum in any longer. “fuck baby just like that. i wanna cum with you just a little longer baby please” he pleaded. he sounded so good saying please in his birmingham accent. his thrusts became sloppy and slow. “cum baby, you can do it. you’re such a good girl— fuck.” he reassures you after you cum on his dick making a ring, his tip kissing your cervix as you felt his warm seed filling you up”

he pulled out of you, sharing one last kiss with you before putting his suit back on and wiping off the sweat off his forehead. he helped you put your dress back on and fixed your hair a little. “can’t believe my celebrity crush is about to walk around in public with my cum leaking outside of her.”

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham hot #soccer #football #football player x reader #football x reader #laliga #real madrid #real madrid player x reader #jude bellingham imagine

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gunnerfc · 5 months ago

Text

Text First Next Time | Alessia Russo x Reader (18+)

Summary: you and Alessia have lived together since she moved to London to play for Arsenal, but it’s still taking some time to get used to having someone else share a space with you

Warnings: smut MINORS DNI!, oral (alessia and r receiving), alessia walking in on reader naked

WC: 1.8K

You hummed to yourself as you moved around the kitchen, fresh out of the shower. You had the house to yourself today since Alessia went out with some of your teammates. The two of you have been friends for a while, and when she made the switch to Arsenal, you offered your spare bedroom to the blonde to make things easier for her.

It took some time to get used to having someone else in your living space, seeing as you were used to living alone since you left your parent's house. You’re prone to walking around the house bare, knowing no one is going to see you. But with Alessia around, that changed quickly.

But, the blonde was supposed to be out for a large part of the day, meaning you were free to pick up old habits. You sipped from the glass of water you fixed as your hair dripped water droplets down your body. You were too in your head about the past week of training to clock the front door opening and closing.

You turned to head back to your room but stopped in your tracks when you were face to face with Alessia. The blonde was red in the face as her eyes tried to look anywhere but your naked body, but she ultimately failed when her eyes glanced down at your bare chest and further down.

“I, um, didn’t hear you come in,” you forced out, still standing in shock that you were naked in front of your roommate.

“I-I shouted,” the blonde mumbled, her cheeks red as she met your eyes. Your chest was heaving slightly as you sat the glass down on the counter, and a quiet ‘Oh’ left your lips.

“I’m gonna go put on some clothes,” you tried to joke as you made your way past the blonde. Her eyes followed you with each step you took, letting her eyes drop down your body once your back was to her.

When your bedroom door was closed, Alessia let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The blonde had been harboring a crush on you for a while, and this did not curb her feelings, if anything, it made them stronger.

You joined her in the living room after you were dressed, both of you sitting away from each other on the couch. “You should text first next time,” you uttered softly, eyes locked on anything but Alessia.

“Right, I’ll, um, remember that,” she nodded to herself as she fiddled with her hands. She shot glances at you out of the corner of her eye, her gaze locked on your now-clothed body. She wouldn’t tell you, but she found the clothes covering your body offensive, having much preferred to see you in nothing.

“Things aren’t gonna be weird between us, are they,” you sighed as you looked at her, finding her eyes zeroed in on your thighs.

“Huh,” she blinked as she looked back up, her cheeks red once more. “No, we’re fine! You’re fine! I mean, you’re good, not that you look fine! Not that you don’t look good physically, y’know,” Alessia stumbled out, her eyes closing as she made a mess of her words.

You chuckled softly at her before your eyes dropped to her lips. “Less, did you like seeing me naked,” you teased, watching as her eyes flew open and widened at your words.

“No! Yes! Damn it,” she huffed as she held her head in her hands. You laughed slyly as you moved down the couch closer to her.

“Wanna see me naked again,” you smirked once you were right next to her. Alessia mumbled into her hands, but you couldn’t make out what she said. “Say it again for me, Alessia,” you hummed as you pulled her hands away from her face.

“I want… more than just seeing you naked,” she confessed, her voice low as she locked eyes with yours.

Your jaw hung slightly at her words before you stood from the couch, moving to stand right in front of her. Alessia looked up at you, attentive eyes, watching as you pulled your shirt over your head. You didn’t bother putting on a bra, so Alessia was met with your bare chest once again as you tossed the shirt onto her lap.

“Sit back,” you pushed her shoulder slightly to get her attention, which she quickly listened and tossed your shirt behind to the floor. You dropped to straddle her hips, grabbing her hands as you moved to rest them on your hips.

Alessia’s breathing picked up when her hands made contact with your warm skin, her thumbs rubbing softly along your hip bone. You pushed down on her hips, grinding softly, earning soft moans from both of you.

Alessia watched as your breasts moved each time you moved against her, her mouth watering as she fought the urge to lean closer to you. You smirked as you watched her lick her lips before moving one hand to her hair, pulling her closer to your chest, “Go on, Lessi.”

The forward didn’t need any other instructions; her lips were wrapped around your nipple instantly as she held your body tightly. Your head fell back as you tangled your hand further in her hair, arching your back into her mouth. You moaned, feeling her teeth graze your hardened nipple.

Alessia pulled away from your breast, a string of spit connecting your nipple to her lower lip. She quickly latched on to your other breast, making sure to give it the same attention. “Fuck, Alessia,” you groaned as you continued to grind your hips.

After a few moments, the blonde pulled away, panting as she looked up at you with swollen lips. “Could stay here for ages,” she mumbled as she leaned in to kiss the valley between your breasts.

You sighed at her words before you stood up from your spot on her lap. Alessia went to protest but closed her mouth when you dropped to your knees in between her legs. “Take these off,” you panted as you pulled at the sweatpants she changed into.

Alessia made quick work shimmying out of her pants and panties, throwing them aimlessly behind her. The blonde shuddered as the cold air hit her wet cunt, evidence of how worked up she was on her thighs.

You grinned as you pushed her legs further apart and leaned in to kiss the inside of her thigh, trailing the kisses up. You stared up at her from between her legs as your tongue circled her clit softly. You moaned at the taste of her, earning a loud whine from the blonde above you.

You hooked your arms around her thighs to keep them apart as you ran your tongue through her soaked folds. You felt your thighs clench, seeking your own pleasure as you got to work. Alessia tangled her hands in your hair as her hips bucked against your face, seeking her orgasm.

“God,” the blonde whined as her head fell back against the back of the couch. She tugged you closer to her cunt as her thighs tried to close around your head. Your grip on her thighs tightened as your nails dug into her skin, forcing her shaking legs apart.

“Y/n,” your name left her lips breathlessly, moans escaping her right after. “C-close,” she forced out with a cry.

You sped up your tongue, wanting to taste every drop of her you could catch. “Cum for me, Alessia,” you muttered into her, sending jolts through her body. With a loud moan of your name, the blonde let go, coming all over your tongue and face.

You didn’t waste a single drop as you licked her clean, her body jerking against you with each lick. You pulled away from her, panting as you stared up at her, watching her body shake from her orgasm.

Alessia’s eyes fluttered open as she tilted her head down to look at you, your mouth glistening in the light. “C’mere,” she panted, pulling you up and back onto her lap. Her lips met yours in a heated kiss, a small moan leaving her lips as she tasted herself.

While your lips moved against each other, Alessia guided you to lay back on the couch. The blonde hovered above you, propping herself up with one hand by your head while the other slipped down your body to pull your shorts off.

Alessia trailed kisses down your neck, continuing to kiss down your body until her head was between your thighs. “Fuck, Y/n/n,” she groaned as she sucked harshly on the inside of your thigh.

Your back arched softly off the couch as you hooked a leg over her shoulder. Alessia’s hands moved to spread your folds, licking up to your clit. Her lips sucked the sensitive bud softly, earning whimpers from you.

“Please, Less,” you whined, you were worked up enough and needed a release quickly. Alessia grinned at your begging before giving in, wanting to repay the favor. “Fuck!” you gasped, feeling her tongue fucking you.

Alessia moved her head from side to side as her tongue traced random shapes, her hands were tight on your hips to keep you still. Tears slipped from your eyes in pleasure as you tried to rut against her face.

“Alessia,” you whined, your hands tight in her hair. “I’m so close, don’t stop, please,” you begged.

It didn’t take much more from the blonde before you came with a hoarse moan of her name. Alessia stayed put for a moment, helping you ride out your orgasm before pulling away. You whined at the loss of contact and pulled your hands from her hair. Alessia crawled back up your body, her lips meeting yours in a slow, sensual kiss.

Your hands found their way to her hips, holding her close as your lips moved against hers. Alessia pulled away when air became a necessity, her eyes dark as she looked down at you. “Maybe I won’t text first next time,” she smirked.

You laughed softly as you leaned up slightly to give her a quick kiss. “Maybe I’ll go back to walking around the house naked,” you teased.

Alessia’s brows furrowed at your words, “You do this often?” Her tone sounded almost offended that this was the first time she had seen you naked.

“Not since you moved in, I used to spend most of the time naked when I was home,” you replied like it was nothing.

“You should go back to doing that,” the blonde nodded, her eyes dropping to scan your body.

“If I did that, you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands to yourself,” you scoffed playfully.

“Is that a bad thing,” Alessia teased as she leaned down to kiss you again. You smiled into the kiss before pulling back to mumble ‘No’ against her lips.

You were glad not to have heard Alessia come home. Both of you were excited to see where this went, and you would be sure to forgo clothes when it was just you and Alessia at home.

#woso x reader #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo smut #engwnt x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #woso smut

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minniesfiles · 4 months ago

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THE MOMENT I COULDN’T LET GO

Having kept his feelings locked in his heart for years, Mingyu finally finds the courage to confess his love for his best friend before it’s too late.

❧ PAIRING; mingyu x reader

❧ GENRE; fluff, friends to lovers

❧ TAGS/WARNINGS; fluff, childhood best friends to lovers, drabble

❧ WORDCOUNT; 1.2k

𐚁₊⊹

Mingyu had spent the last four years mastering the art of pretending. Pretending that he was fine when his best friend, you, talked about your crushes. Pretending that his heart didn't beat a little faster every time you smiled at him or threw your arms around his neck in one of your carefree hugs. Pretending that he wasn't in love with you.

But he was.

And the truth of it was eating him up, slowly and continuously, like water wearing away at stone.

Mingyu had known you since he was seven-years-old when you and your family moved into the empty house opposite to his. For a while, you were just his neighbour. But the first time you knocked onto his door asking if he wanted to play, it just hit off perfectly.

You were his best friend, his partner-in-crime, someone who he trusted the most. Back then, life was much simpler: riding bikes until the streetlights came on, building forts out of blankets, and sharing peanut butter sandwiches during summer afternoons.

But somewhere along the way, as you both grew up, things changed.

Mingyu didn’t know when it happened, or maybe he did but refused to admit it to himself. Maybe it was the first time he noticed how your laugh made his heart skip, or when he caught himself staring at you for too long during study sessions. Or maybe it was the day you showed up at the school summer festival wearing that bright yellow dress in ninth grade, and for some reason, he couldn’t find the words to tease you like he usually would.

Whatever it was, Mingyu was in love with you. Completely and hopelessly.

But you didn’t know. And you could never know.

By the last year of high school, the feelings he tried so hard to ignore had grown unbearable. Being around you was both bliss and torture. You were practically everywhere: in the way you playfully shoved his arm when he said something sarcastic, in the late-night texts you exchanged about your dreams and fears, in the stupid smile you gave him when you walked through the halls every morning.

Mingyu thought about confessing to you. He rehearsed it in his mind a thousand times.

“Y/n, I think I’m in love with you.”

But the words always got stuck somewhere in his throat. The risk was too big. If he told you and you didn’t feel the same, he’d lose you. And losing you was the one thing he couldn’t face.

So he kept quiet. For months. Years.

And the stuffiness inside his chest only grew unbearable.

╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴╴

▍18 FEBRUARY 2017

It was graduation day.

With families crammed into the seats, the auditorium was vibrant with excitement. The graduates nervously checked their certificates and straightened their caps as they lined up backstage. Mingyu stood silently in the crowd as his fingers clutched the edge of his gown, his heart feeling somewhat heavy.

This was it — the end of everything.

After today, you would be leaving for university in London like you always dreamed, and he would be left behind here in Korea. A bitter realisation settled in his chest. This might be his last chance to say what he’d been holding back.

“Gyu!”

He turned at the sound of your voice. You were smiling — always smiling — and your eyes shone brightly beneath your cap. “Can you believe this is happening? We’re actually graduating.”

“Yeah, it’s wild” Mingyu forced a smile.

“Promise me we’ll always stay in touch. You’re not allowed to disappear, okay?” you said, bumping his shoulder.

“I won’t” the words came out too softly.

You grinned, oblivious to the war raging in his mind. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me forever.”

And just like that, you disappeared into the crowd of students, leaving him standing there with your words repeating in his head.

Forever.

Names were called one by one, and each graduate crossed the stage while being cheered and applauded. Mingyu’s stomach churned as he waited for his turn, and his mind spun in endless circles.

This was it.

“Kim Mingyu”

The sound of his name echoed through the auditorium.

And when stepped onto the stage, his heart began pounding dramatically. The principal handed him his diploma with a smile, but Mingyu barely registered it. His eyes flickered out to the crowd — and there you were.

You watched him from the front row. Your face was glowing with pride as your cap sat crookedly on your head, and in that moment, it struck him in the chest like a punch.

‘I can’t leave without telling her’

His legs felt weak, but somehow he moved toward the microphone. The crowd quieted, unsure what was happening as Mingyu gripped the podium. His hands shook, and he exhaled sharply.

“I know I’m not supposed to say anything up here, but…I need to” he began with a rough voice.

Murmurs rippled through the room. Mingyu’s eyes searched for you, soon locking onto yours. You had your head tilted in confusion and your smile faltering.

“This might be the last time I get to say this, so I have to. If I don’t, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life,” he continued with his voice trembling.

“There’s someone I’ve loved for as long as I can remember. And I’ve been too much of a coward to admit it — not just to her, but to myself. But I don’t want to leave here today without telling her the truth.”

The crowd fell silent. Every face blurred into the background except one.

“Jeon Y/n” your name came out as barely a whisper. But you heard it, and your hands flew to your mouth, while your eyes were wide and glistening.

Mingyu swallowed hard, and his heart was threatening to burst. “I love you. I’ve loved you since we were kids, and I don’t know what will happen next, but I couldn’t let you leave without knowing.”

A stunned hush filled the room, but Mingyu didn’t care. The weight that had been torturing him for years was suddenly gone. His chest heaved as he stared at you, waiting for the world to shatter.

You then stood up, tears streaking your cheeks. And for the first time, you looked speechless.

Mingyu barely had time to process it before you were running. Running through the aisle, past confused students and cheering friends, until you reached the stage.

And then you were there — right in front of him.

“You’re an idiot, Kim Mingyu” you said as your voice shook through your tears. Mingyu opened his mouth to respond, but you grabbed his gown and pulled him towards you.

And you kissed him.

The crowd erupted — cheers, applause, whistles — and for a moment, Mingyu felt like the entire world had disappeared. Your hands tangled in his gown, his arms wrapped around you, and the kiss was everything he’d dreamed of but never dared hope for.

When you finally pulled apart, you looked up at him, your face still marked with tears but smiling brighter than he’d ever seen.

“I love you too, you idiot,” you whispered as you leaned his forehead against his.

Mingyu’s heart soared. He laughed as he wiped a tear from your cheek. “It took me long enough, huh?”

“Yeah,” you replied, beaming. “But you got there.”

He kissed you again, right there on the stage, as your classmates roared with support. For once, Mingyu didn’t care who was watching.

Because you knew.

And that was all that mattered.

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rafesfavgirl · 1 year ago

Text

two graves, one gun — r. cameron

sad rafe fic bc i just got my period and i'm feeling extra emotional :')

series: every few lifetimes

❝ so long, london stitches undone two graves, one gun you'll find someone ❞

pairing: bf!rafe x fem!reader

context: after another night of getting coked out and passing out on barry's couch, rafe realizes you deserve better than him and decides to let you go.

words: 1.3k+

warnings: drug addiction, break-up, might make you cry, ANGSTY asl

the sole of your heel taps anxiously against your living room's hardwood floor, as you stared at the time on your phone's lock screen, which lit up with a photo that wheezie took of you and rafe sitting at one of the tables at midsummers last year, looking at each other as if you were the only people there.

8:30 p.m.

your heart aches at the realization that he had forgotten your date again, but the nerves that settle in your stomach win over, as you think about where he probably is.

pushing your weight off the sofa, you grab your car keys from the hooks on the wall, and dial rafe on your way out the door.

straight to voicemail. fuck.

you skip down the steps in front of your house and unlock your car in the driveway to get in, immediately starting the engine to get on your way.

you dial rafe again as you pull into the road—to no avail.

"damn it, rafe," you mutter, eyes switching between the road and your phone as you type him a message.

you: where are you???

when the message doesn't even go through, you let out a frustrated groan. either his phone's dead or it's switched off. you step on the gas to speed up, zigzagging between cars to get there faster.

you pull to an abrupt stop in front of a beat-down house on the south side, and switch the car off before hopping out.

"mrs. country club, what brings you to this side of the island?" barry stands from the porch when he sees you walking towards him, fuming.

"oh spare me the fake hospitality, barry," you tell him. "where is he?"

"where's who?" he shrugs—but you knew he knew what you were talking about.

"don't play dumb with me," you spat, attempting to walk past him. "i know he's here."

he steps to the side to block you from going any further. "maybe so, but it ain't a pretty sight."

"ugh," you manage to walk past him and proceed into the house, with him on your tail. "rafe!"

barry catches up to you and blocks your way again. "hey, i told you-"

"barry, you're really testing my patience here, alright?" you say, refusing to back down. you weren't scared of him—okay, maybe a little, but you weren't about to let him see that. "rafe!"

you push past barry again, and make your way further inside, immediately rushing to rafe, who was passed out face-down on barry's couch.

"oh my god, rafe!" you crouch down beside him, not missing the un-sniffed lines of coke on the wooden table in front of him, and pick up his head in your hands. "baby, baby," you gently pat his face with your hand. "can you hear me?"

"told you it wasn't a pretty sight," barry leans against a wooden post and watches you, making you roll your eyes.

"rafe," you try to wake him up again. "babe."

thankfully, his eyes flutter open, relief washing over you as you let out a sigh. "oh thank god."

"y/n?" his voice is barely above a whisper when his eyes lock with yours. "shit!"

you move aside when he suddenly sits up, searching the couch cushions for his phone. "what time is it?"

"rafe-"

"no, fuck!" he shouts when he realizes his phone is dead, and looks up at barry. "i told you to wake me up if i knocked out!"

"i'm not your keeper, cameron," barry shrugs. "just take your shit and go, a'ight?"

"baby…" rafe turns to you kneeling on the ground beside him, his voice much softer now. "i swear i set an alarm— i was just— i didn't think my phone would die and-"

"hey," you place your hand on top of his, squeezing it lightly to make him look at you. "don't worry about it. let's just get out of here, okay?"

he nods, and you stand up, dusting yourself off as you do.

"i'll meet you in the car, doll," he tells you. "i just gotta take care of something."

—

the car ride back to your house is almost completely silent, until rafe breaks it.

"you look beautiful, by the way," he says, eyes shifting to you.

you glance at him, a small smile on your lips. "thank you."

"god, i'm such an idiot!" he groans, clearly frustrated with himself over the situation. "how many missed dates is that this month?"

"rafe, i told you not to worry about it," you tell him. "it's okay, i get-"

"y/n," his voice is stern now, his eyes burning holes into your skin. "how many?"

you sigh, turning the wheel towards the curb to park the car in front of your house. "four," you answer, switching the ignition off. "that was the fourth one this month."

rafe scoffs and shakes his head, eyes averting away from you. he just couldn't look at you anymore, because he knew that even if you didn't show it, you were disappointed. not only at him, but maybe even yourself for putting up with him.

"hey," you place a hand on his knee, and he glances down at the gesture, before finally looking at you. "it's okay."

"how is it okay?" he asks, eyebrows furrowing. "all i do is disappoint you."

"baby, that's not true," you try to reassure him, but he doesn't buy it.

"it is true," he tells you. "and you don't deserve it."

not knowing what to say, you just glance down at your hand on his knee. "rafe…"

"no," he cuts you off, and places his hand above yours to slowly push it off of him. "i can't keep doing this to you."

letting out a sigh, you adjust yourself in your seat so you're looking at him. "okay, rafe, before you saying anything else— i love you, alright? there's nothing you can do that-"

"and that's exactly the problem, a'ight?" he snaps. "you're never gonna walk away from me yourself! even when i bought this shit from barry after i told you to wait in the car." he reaches into his pocket and tosses the small bag of blow in between the two of you. your eyes shift from it to him, the uneasiness in your stomach only getting worse.

"i have a problem y/n," he tells you. "and it's not the kind you can just 'fix' with love."

"then we'll get you help. we'll do any-" you try to reach out to him, but he resists.

"no," he says, motioning a hand between you two. "this has to end."

the words you dreaded hearing comes out of his mouth in one fell swoop, your heart shattering into a million pieces.

"what?"

"i'm never gonna be the guy you need me to be," he shakes his head at you, and if it weren't so dark outside, you swear you'd see his eyes watering. "and since you can't let go, i have to do it for you."

tears brim along your lower lashes as you speak, "no. that is not your choice to make."

"god, y/n, can you stop making this harder than it already is?" he pleads.

"can you stop acting like it's so easy?" you retort.

"you think this is easy?" he asks, taken aback by your accusation. "it kills me to do this."

"then don't," you say, voice cracking as you reach out for his hands. "we can work through your addiction together, rafe. we'll-"

"that's not your responsibility," he shakes his head at you. "if i'm gonna get better, i need to do it on my own."

you sob, "i— i don't want this to be the end.”

rafe glances down at your hands, before bringing his hand up to cup your cheek.

you lean into his touch, and a single tear rolls down your cheek—one that he wipes away with his thumb.

"i love you so much," he says, eyes closing as his head tilted down against yours. "i'm sorry."

his lips place a soft kiss on your forehead, and just like that, he's gone.

part 2.

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

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#rafe cameron #rafe #rafe obx #obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #outer banks #rafe outer banks #rafe fic #sad rafe #rafe angst #rafe cameron fic #obx fic

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wandasslut3000 · 8 months ago

Text

Are you desperate for me?

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, car sex, sub!reader, thigh riding, fingering, sex pollen, breast play, marking, praise, cum play, semi clothed sex, mentions of drug trafficking and death.

WC: 2.24k

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You and Wanda are currently in Bari, Italy, on a mission to find locate and arrest a dangerous drug dealer that is rumored to be heading towards London for an important deal.

Your goal is to find his base of operations and destroy his current supply. The suspect in question, Cecil Adams, otherwise known as 'The Count', has been injecting his victims with his test products.

Almost all of them ended up dead within minutes.

"Oh come on."

"It's for the good of the people" Tony said and you rolled your eyes.

"So me and Wanda have to cancel our honeymoon just to find some wack ass Peter Piper? Why can't the police just deal with it?"

"They've tried, but every officer they sent has come back in a casket. You know we wouldn't have asked you if we didn't need to, but the rest of the team is already assigned elsewhere." Steve informed, crossing his arms and expressing a look of sympathy.

You groaned as you buried your face in your hands in annoyance. Wanda grabbed your hand, stroking the back of it her thumb as an attempt to help you calm down.

"A week in Italy wouldn't really be so bad, just think of it as a last minute change of venue." She whispered and you brought your head up to look at her and her bright green eyes.

"I... alright, fine." You couldn't bring yourself to argue with her, turning back to look back at Tony and Steve.

"You owe us two weeks off after this." Both men nodded in agreement.

Four days into your stay, you and Wanda had found his headquarters, an abandoned wear-house at the edge of the city.

You and your wife are rigging the place to blow. Members of S.H.E.L.D waiting just outside of the property as backup.

Wanda had used her magic to knock out the guards surrounding the area, putting handcuffs onto each of them, and with a snap of her fingers, she'd sent them straight into the secured van.

"You done, baby?" You ask Wanda through your earpiece.

"Everything's all set over here"

"Alright then, just make sure you're safe ok?"

You back away from the building with the remote trigger in your hand, your backpack filled with product in the other, you'd managed to sneak in prior and retrieve some per S.H.E.L.D's instructions.

"I will be detka, are you?"

"I'm safe" You assure her as you take small steps backward and away from the building.

Suddenly you feel a cool piece of metal brace itself against your throat, strong muscular arms wrapping themselves around you.

You sigh, reaching for the man's wrists and throwing him on the ground, the knife in his hand flying into the distance.

You hear him groan before you flip him on his back, grabbing a pair of handcuffs from your bag and putting his hands behind his back, locking him in place.

"For someone who's created such a hassle, you really need better fighting skills." You mutter, Wanda picking everything through the mic.

You cuff him and grab him by his hair, holding his head up. Pulling a chloroform-laced cloth from your pocket, you knock him unconscious.

"Luybov? What happened?"

"We've caught our culprit." You chuckle as you picked the man up, throwing him over your shoulder and heading towards the front of the warehouse.

You set Adams down, his body limp against the cemented ground.

"Ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"5... 4... 3... 2... 1..."

Boom.

The warehouse erupts into a riot of flames, painting the area in orange and red.

You notice a puff of smoke head in your direction but it's unlike anything you've seen before, it was... pink?

You tried your best to avoid it but you couldn't, the cloud reaching you and the moment you inhaled it, you cough heavily.

Wanda uses her powers to contain the fire and puts it out, red wisps of her magic encasing the remaining smoke, clearing it into thin air.

Once you can finally breathe, you turn to pick Adams up and hand him into S.H.E.I.L.D's custody. A group of agents taking him into the back of the van along with rest of his henchmen.

You hand one agent your bag of evidence, receiving a nod in thanks before they get inside and drive off.

"You alright?" You feel Wanda's hand grab your shoulder from behind you, her voice is laced with so much love and a hint of worry that makes you fall even deeper for this woman.

You nod, turning to face her and wrapping your arms around her neck, pulling her in for a desperately lustful kiss.

The moment your lips make contact you can't help the moan you let out at the sensation. When you pull apart, she noticed how of how your pupils have dilated drastically.

"I think it's time we go back to the hotel, don't you agree?" Your fingers playing with the pendant of her necklace, Wanda smiles back at you and nods, giving you another peck that makes your heart skip a beat.

You'd never felt this needy before.

She brushes her hand past your ear making your breath hitch, disappoint running though you when you realize she was only trying to grab your earpiece, taking her's out right after and putting them in her pocket.

Hand in hand, you both head to car that Tony had lent you for your time here. Wanda opens the door for you, a blush painting your cheeks at her chivalry.

She then heads into her spot in the drivers seat, starting up the car and putting the hotels address in the built-in GPS system.

Once on your way, you feel Wanda's hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. You were starting to lose your composure, though the act was innocent, the heat in your pants was becoming unbearable.

"Oh my poor baby," she coos, "I can read your thoughts; they're quite loud."

"Are you desperate for me?"

You feel your eyes shut for a moment at her accent slipping into her words, your thighs clenching at the rasp in her voice.

You grab her hand, bringing it down to your clothed pussy, making her feel how your wetness had already stained through your uniform.

Wanda bites her lip, making a sudden turn, slowing down, and coming to a complete stop in an empty lot. You look at the screen on the dashboard, your hotel a fifteen-minute drive away.

You awkwardly shift towards her, straddling her lap, and reaching to the side for the lever of the seat, pushing it downwards.

She cups your cheeks and kisses you deeply, your tongues meshing together in a familiar dance.

Wanda unzips your suit from the front, smiling at your lack of bra. You pull apart so you can slip it off and throw it somewhere into the backseat, leaving you in just your panties.

You gasp when she sucks different marks onto your neck and collarbone, teasing you.

She's looking at you with innocent eyes, batting her lashes and pressing kisses against your skin, she then takes your nipple into her mouth, her free hand toying with your other breast, making you throw your head back in pleasure.

You move your hands to the back of her head, moaning lightly whilst treading your fingers through her silky strands. "You want me to touch you detka?" She mumbles against you and your breathing gets heavier.

"Please."

You buck your hips against her, grinding on her thigh pathetically, the friction of your panties brushing against your clit in the just the right way, little gasps and moans escaping your throat without permission.

Wanda releases your nipple, a string of saliva being the only thing connecting her to your chest, the sight making you whimper.

You look down at her with dewy eyes, the ache in between your legs becoming unbearable. Your breath shudders when you feel her fingers slip your underwear off, making contact with your wet folds, and you bite your lip at the feeling.

"So wet for me." She whispers, your eyes shutting when her slim digits make contact with your clit, and you can't help the noises that escape your lips. "You like when I touch you like this princessa?"

"Yes- fuck." You moan when she starts to tease your entrance, spreading your wetness thought your folds. When her fingers finally enter you, your eyes roll to the back of your head as she starts to pump them in and out of you.

"Such a pretty girl." Wanda coos, placing hot open mouthed kisses on your neck and jawline, her fingers curling ever so slightly on every pull out driving you insane, a familiar hot coil building up in your stomach.

Wanda repositions her hand, placing her two fingers on her pubic bone, using her free hand to help guide you into riding her.

"You make such pretty noises my darling, make some more." she smiles sweetly at you, making you groan at her words.

Your hands fly to her shoulders to help hold you up, your nails digging into the fabric of her suit, her lips back going to suck onto your nipples, your hips bucking frantically in your effort to chase you upcoming climax.

"Mm- mhmm, yes- Wanda, right- right there!" You squeal when she moves her thumb to put pressure on your neglected bundle of nerves.

"You're so beautiful" she murmurs against you before she pulls away, moving her other hand towards your ass, squeezing it gently.

"I'm gonna cum... fuck, baby I'm gonna cum! " Your eyes roll as you let the pleasure faze through you, you hide your face into her neck though your orgasm, pressing a light kiss there as your body trembles around her.

"You did so good detka, such a good girl." You hear her praise, rubbing up and down your back soothingly, as you slowly start to come down from you high.

When you lean back and open your eyes, they land on a lust ridden Sokovian, her pupils completely enlarged as she pulls her digits out of you.

Wanda brings her fingers towards her lips before slipping them both into her mouth, You feel another surge of wetness flow through you, slightly coating Wanda's thighs with my you slick.

She hums, "So sweet." She says as the swipes her fingers through your folds again, your head falling onto her shoulder as you shudder at the feeling.

You feel Wanda hold you up slightly, digits coated with your cum, you moan when she starts to pull at your nipples. "You like that, don't you?" She smiles before pulling you into another kiss.

She moves her lips downwards towards your chest, taking each bud into her mouth, tasting your juices as she swirls her tongue around them.

"Do you think you can do one more for me?" You nod, and she positions you onto her left thigh, guiding you hips as you start to grind onto her.

You whimper as your clit comes into contact with her skin each time you move your hips, Wanda pulls you into another lip lock, grabbing you by the back of your neck with one hand while her other one helps your movements.

"God- you feel so good..."

Wanda smirks against your lips before moving her hand from my hips towards your overstimulated clit, rubbing tight circles around it before pinching it, sending you into a deeper state of pleasure.

You scream her name and a string of curses, trying to steady your breathing. "So perfect for me." She whispers as she kisses your forehead.

"I love you" You say as you kiss her nose, watching how it scrunches adorably.

"I love you too" She returns, pecking your lips and hugging you close. Both of you sighing in content at the skin on skin contact.

#smut #wlw ns/fw #marvel #wlw post #elizabeth olsen #saphic #wanda maximoff #wandavision #dc comics

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wileys-russo · 10 months ago

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Alexia Putellas, “just let me in and accept I’m not going anywhere”, reader’s kitchen

a.putellas II cross the line

you grunted as you worked the dough, sleeves rolled up to your elbows and sweatshirt dotted with flour as you punched, rolled and kneaded it across the board.

with a sigh you grabbed your rolling pin, flattening it before repeating the actions all over again, oven chiming to alert you that it had finally pre heated.

repeating the routine twice over you picked it up and dropped it into a shallow pan, sprinkling the foccacia with oil and massaging it in, gently prodding in holes and finishing it off with some rosemary and seasalt.

you sighed with relief as you carefully closed the oven door, rolling your shoulders and neck which were heavy with tension, making a mental note to con your girlfriend into giving you a massage later not that it often took much to convince her to get her hands on you.

a hot shower helped to melt away a little of the tension, and a thorough washing of your hair helped you to feel like a human being again and not a bag of flour.

you left your skin care for before bed and got changed into a pair of your girlfriends national team shorts and a shirt so large the two of you could have fit into it.

you were happy with how the bread was progressing, your first timer going off as you set multiple other alarms, knowing this next block of time was the most crucial.

baking had always been an escape for you, something taught to you by your grandma and passed down, your sundays spent at her house learning all her tips and tricks while your mum worked her second job to keep a roof over your head.

you'd first met alexia when she was in london for a nike shoot, the photographer a close friend you were temping for while on break from university.

there was a miscommunication from her team which lead to a somewhat heated conversation you could see she felt uncomfortable about, hanging awkwardly to the side while her agent lead the charge.

you'd stepped in and asked if she'd liked a coffee, assuring you were doing a run anyway and that it was no bother to grab her one on the way. she'd accepted but bargained she had to come with you, a little reserved at first but eventually the two of you got to talking.

and as everyone says, the rest was history.

you heard alexia's keys jimmy with the lock, front door popping open as her footsteps sounded in the hall, a small grunt as she wrestled off her trainers and a gentle thump of her gym bag hitting the floor.

"hola mi amor." you greeted with a warm smile, meeting her halfway in a tight hug, laughing as she exhaled tiredly into your neck making you squirm and poke at her sides.

"are you baking?" she mumbled into your shoulder, hunched over as you hummed and slipped a hand down the collar of her top, scratching gently at the base of her neck.

"stop that!" you laughed as once more she exhaled, pushing her away and ignoring her whine of annoyance as you did so. "i have not seen you all day." your girlfriend complained with a slight pout, hands tugging at the back of your shirt.

"you've been gone for three hours!" you rolled your eyes playfully, spinning away from her grabby hands and back into the kitchen. "exactly! tal tortura." alexia huffed, lips still turned downward into an annoyed pout.

"pobre bebé." you mocked as her eyes narrowed but once again you dodged her reaching for you. "i'm baking." you warned with a coy smile, your girlfriend throwing her head back with a dramatic groan as if she'd just been shot.

"the bread does not need your attention princesa, i do." alexia tried to follow after you but grunted as your hand shot out stopping her in her tracks. "nice try putellas, you know the rules." you warned, booping her nose making her scowl.

"this line-" you trailed your finger from the counter to the stove. "-is not to be crossed." you wagged your finger at her. "esta es una regla estúpida!" the footballer argued, still hovering right on the line.

"it isn't a stupid rule when you cook and i am not allowed past it, is it?" you challenged, hands on hips and raised eyebrows. early on in your relationship you and alexia established you both adored the use of the kitchen, only there was just one small problem.

you both hated sharing that space with someone else, even one another.

so the line rule was implemented to save future arguments, and most of the time it worked a charm. however your girlfriend was a passionate woman and fiercely stubborn, and when she wanted something there wasn't much that could stand successfully in her way.

"ale please i spent so long working on this bread i really need it to be perfect!" you sighed as her hand shot out and grabbed your top pulling you over the line, nose tucking into your neck as gentle kisses were fanned across the skin.

"such a perfectionist." your girlfriend teased quietly, silencing your quip back as she pressed her lips properly against yours, the timer going off in the background.

"no no not yet, little more cariño por favor." alexia purred, strong toned arms wrapping around your hips as she held your body captive, back pressed to her front and lips peppering kisses across your neck.

"ale!" you sighed, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she kissed a little less sweetly, teeth grazing your shoulder. "mm?" she hummed, large hands squeezing your hips as your eyes opened and you spotted the oven, brought back down to earth.

"no!" you groaned, pushing against her and catching her off guard as she stumbled and you darted back into the kitchen. you ignored her complaining about a lack of attention as you sprayed the top of your bread with a spray bottle of oil.

"vale you fussed over your bread, my turn." alexia stomped her foot not unlike a child throwing a tantrum making you smile in amusement. "later, the bread is almost done amor be patient." you winked, bending down to peer through the glass of your oven.

"so i cannot cross the line, sí?" alexia clarified as you hummed, not thinking much of it. though as you turned around, that all changed. "alexia!" you laughed in disbelief seeing her pulling herself up onto the counter.

you watched on as she spun her body and shuffled forward slightly, dropping to the ground with a wolfish grin. "did not cross the line." she took a deep bow as you rolled your eyes. "you are so-" you started to lecture as her grin grew.

"no no." her finger pushed against your lips silencing you as you raised an eyebrow. "just let me in and accept i'm not going anywhere princesa." your girlfriend smiled cockily, drawing your body closer into hers.

"that is because you are so stubb-" you started, words swallowed by the rosy pink lips which pressed against yours, breath hitching as her hands slid around your hips and cheekily squeezed at your ass, alexia using this to slip her tongue into your mouth.

you resisted the urge to moan as her hands pinched and squeezed, paying all of your body just as much attention as your mouth and sending your head into a spin.

but then, you smelled it and pushed away, spinning around and dropping to the oven.

"putellas if this bread is burnt you're sleeping outside for a week!"

#woso community #woso #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso blurbs #woso imagine

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