#old car buying guide

[rqnarok]

thinking about being old man!logan’s little housewife...

headcanons - cws/tags: sexual content, mdni! old man!logan. dom/sub undertones. age gap. both characters are of the age of consent. unprotected p in v. 18+ only.

logan’s all worn out. there is no justification made on depicting how done he is with the world. he lives his days in an accustomed routine - dread crawling on his scarred skin - digging the soil for his own grave. 

when he meets you, however, the horror, the panic, and the terror begin to fade away from his blurry orbs—replaced by the sight of your sugary sweet smile. you kept him calm by easing down his drinking and self-destruction. and he just can’t deny you, not when his dick gets so fucking hard when you’re around.

you can’t help it either. the need to fix someone seems very familiar in your generation—so sentimental and at the same time, pragmatic. never accepting ‘no’ for an answer, including when he tries to back you down by saying “ya’ don’t want me, kid. i’m an old dog.” as if sunlight to a plant, it only motivates you. leaving him flushed red and burrows knitted after you whispered filthy remarks to his ear. 

up to the point where he finally tears down his prejudices towards marriage and puts a shiny ring on your finger. 

he turns a blind eye to anyone glancing at him weirdly at how much older he looks compared to you, his salt-and-pepper beard not helping either. when charles notices the changes in him—how he seems to smile more and how hickeys sprawled up on his neck—he just can’t help but make snarky comments about it. logan’s too old for you (or so charles told him), and logan finds himself balking at that. 

“if she doesn’t want it, she would’ve left already.”

he’s right. if you didn’t want it, you would’ve left him. oh, but you stayed. and not only did you stay, but you also took care of him. letting you eat out the palm of his hands. 

greeting logan when he comes back from his blue-collar work, cooking and baking his favorite foods, ironing his work clothes and spraying the fabric with a lovely scent, kissing his bloodied knuckles, putting the prettiest outfit for him as a show, warming his cock when he sits lazily on the couch, nuzzling his thighs while you wait for him to get harden again, and letting him have you anywhere and anytime he wants.

logan keeps a polaroid of you while he’s away. a reminder to himself that he has a home now. he’d keep it in his wallet or his jacket pocket or hanging it on the car’s rear-view mirror. how empty was he to be so full of you now?

he never thought he would live a life like this—like how it is supposed to be. without you knowing, logan added one or two hours into his shift so that he could earn more extra pennies. the money he’ll use to pamper you, to make you feel comfortable and content. let you buy anything you want—all things on your shopping list are checked out by the end of the week.

and y’know, he’s an old man who’s not as strong as he used to be. so you pay for all this hard work by burying your face in logan’s neck as you ride him on the sofa. his head tilts slightly to catch your red-kissed lips with his - logan breathes something about how good you’re making him feel, “such a good little wife f’r your old man.”

he loves to tease you—telling you that you’re making him feel younger than ever when he’s with you, “gettin’ tired already, baby? need me t’do it for ya’?” his murmurs get to you as his large palms cup your ass, getting a handful of the plush skin before guiding you up and down his girth. 

logan knows how tired you can be, especially when you start whining desperately like this, so he gives one or two light smacks for encouragement, “there ya’ go, kiddo. fuck. don’t stop now. doin’ so well, baby. so good.” 

how you always ask for kisses from him ignites that taboo, perverted part of him he did not even know existed. anything that reminds him of how needy you are for him — feels so fucking wrong. but again, it gets his dick so fucking hard, too. he cannot help but to give in. 

“bet no one has ever fucked this pretty pussy like i have, huh? need a real man to do it.”

he’s so fucking smug of himself since he had you. knowing those boys your age wishes that you choose them instead. but he’ll know that would never happen because when he says something like “look acha, drooling over an old man like me. gonna let me fill ya’ up, hm?” your walls manage to grip his girth tighter - squeezing him in so deliciously logan wonders what kind of a heroism act he did to deserve you. 

makes you do a little ‘fashion show’ for him in the living room, parading yourself wearing all kinds of clothes that he bought. logan spreads his muscular thighs wide as he reads the newspaper—and the sight of him wearing his glasses that rest at the tip of his nose is holy to you, waiting to be worshipped. 

you’d come out with a white lingerie that barely covers anything, “do you like it, lo?” whilst you giggle and twirl in front of him, you almost miss how he adjusted his seating position to palm himself through his trousers. telling you, “c’mere here, baby. lemme take good look at’cha, gimme some sugar.” 

by ‘taking a look’ he means hiking up the sheer cloth to inspect your glistening mound, “hm. such a perfect pussy you got here, sweet’art.” probing his thick finger on the wet slick, humming at the dirty squelching sound. the look that he has makes your legs tremble  - his untrimmed greying beard - his vague-looking face scars. 

oh, coming home to you is the best part of his day. always. he’d see you heating the soup you made earlier and loses his fucking mind. turning off the stove in quick movements before hauling you up in his arms. 

skin meets skin slapping fills the room and praises come out of his mouth so naturally, “f-fuck. gon’ stuff ya’ up, darlin'." you’re vulnerable and bare, you can’t even think when he’s got you like this. 

logan would intertwine his fingers with yours. placing them side by side to see the wedding rings. a legitimate reminder that you’re his and he’s yours—forever. 

“good little wife. my good little wife.” 

[httpsserene]

bed head — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜

˖♡ - ̗̀ ⇢ saw this tt about how these two toddlers shared their dad's notoriously rough bed head and this post when i opened tumblr last night and had to write smth for it! sorry, for the baby content 💀 i'll get back to writing y'alls requests now xxx

the careful messiness of brunette curls has been charles’s signature hairstyle for ages. it suits him, and when paired with his dimples and green eyes—it’s no wonder why every italian and monegasque prays for his success on sundays. well, maybe bleeding rosso corsa and winning two championships driving the famed red car are the proper reasons.

if only they knew that the artful styling of his curls is nowhere to be found after he sleeps. when he wakes, his hair is in absolute disarray—the deep brown ringlets are clumped together as they stick straight upwards and yet they manage to point in every direction possible.

when you first moved in with charles, you convinced him to buy a satin pillowcase to combat the bed head. it didn’t help, and neither did the bonnets you tried to have him wear. no matter if the ties were knotted, buttoned, or even velcro-strapped tightly, the bonnet would end up by the foot of the bed and his hair was in it’s usual disordered state by the early morning hours.

so, your morning routine begins with taming charles’s severe case of bed head. he awakens slowly as your fingertips gently untangle the deep brown ringlets, moaning lowly and nudging his head into your hand like a large cat when your nails glide along his scalp. you carefully guide each curl back into their assigned positions, tutting disapprovingly at the one strand that never seems to stay in it’s place.

charles’s chest shakes with a chuckle at your slight irritation and he shifts to meet your eyes, tenderly directing your hands away from his now orderly hair to his lips, pressing kisses to your fingertips before pulling you forward to cuddle into his chest.

you didn’t expect to have to deal with more than one head of messy hair. unfortunately, it seems like your daughter inherited her father’s bed head.

your mornings now consist of charles climbing out of bed at the first crackle of noise through the baby monitor, rushing to scoop the 9-month-old from her nursery and have her join the two of you in bed. he crosses the doorway with your daughter cradled to his bare chest and leo yipping at his feet—she stares up at at him, a perfect reflection of the sea green pools of his eyes, the absence of a bonnet, and the chaotic sprawl of his brunette curls. you’ve never been bothered with the fact that she’s an exact replica of her father, as some tried to tease that your genes didn’t do more than deepen her complexion. however, you always joke back that it means that she’s been blessed to be as beautiful as charles is.

she coos and babbles up at her father and he dutifully responds in french as if he understands her baby gibberish. he sits in bed with her on his lap and she beams, her little arms and grabby hands reaching towards you. you smile back widely, stealing her from his lap and greeting your babygirl with a flurry of kisses pressed all over her cute little face. her giggles ring through the air as you pull backwards to watch her laugh and, there’s another trait she shares with her father; deep dimples decorate her chubby cheeks and you can’t help but press your thumb into them with adoration.

charles picks up his first baby, plopping the mini dachshund in bed, and leo bounds forward to press his own kisses to your daughter’s socked feet.

addressing charles’s wild bed head will have to wait as you settle her back in his lap. you rest your head on his shoulder, apologizing for interrupting the clearly important conversation the two were having. you start fixing the jumbled ringlets on her scalp with the softest touch of your digits and she nuzzles up into your hand the same way her father does. he continues from were he left off, asking your daughter if she thinks a one-stop strategy is too ambitious for the next race and she babbles back to him in reply.

charles nods in agreement, promising her that regardless of a one-stop or two-stop, he’ll bring back his third championship trophy for her.

© httpsserene - do not repost. photos in header from pinterest. divider by @cafekitsune.

[primalsharkman]

Sweet and Spicy

Jo Yuri x M Reader | 🔞 Smut

[idol x manager, she wants u lil bro]

Word Count: 3,654

As you sat down at your bed, in your small studio apartment, taking in the long day you just had, you take stock of everything you had been going through these past few months.

For once in your crappy life, you found a way to turn your quiet days into a job, applying for literally anything on the market. That was when a friend of yours, Jo Yuri, yes, Yuri from IZ*ONE, well, used to be IZ*ONE, found you submitting your resume at the small company she works at.

Intrigued by your looks, she asked the people that was managing her at the time what you were doing there, and they explained that you were applying for a job. Not soon after, there were online calls, and sit-down interviews, and then they gave you the job.

It was a little stressful at first, that's only because you didn't really know what you were doing. All you were told by the people regularly working with Yuri is to just follow her orders and take notes from her old manager, who was going to pursue a new career, and took you under his wing as he guided you to her everyday routines and activities.

You eventually learned how to handle Yuri, from her breakfast, her choice of coffee, towards the end of the day where you make sure she's back at her place safely.

As for Yuri, it never really hit you how soft and sweet she really is. You take care of her very often, and she often reminds you how grateful she is. It's a very difficult job, but Yuri makes it a hundred times easier.

You smiled to yourself as you got ready to sleep, took your phone to scroll through some reels, a text popped up on your screen, it was Yuri.

"U awake?"

You didn't hesitate to reply back, "Yeah, what's up?"

"I'm feeling lonely... :("

"Oh, do you want me to come over?"

"Bring some ramen and fishcakes too please :3"

"Alright, I'll be there in 10"

And just like that, you compromised your comfortable position in bed, and got up again to get your keys and wallet. You grabbed a fresh hoodie and wore some jogging pants before going out to the nearest convenience store to buy Yuri her ramen and fishcakes.

You didn't even think twice, you just went to the convenience store, picked up the food and drove right ahead to her place.

The stairs going up to her apartment were very long, so thank god the elevator is working. After pressing the button and waiting, you were left there with your thoughts. That's when it hit you: You've never been alone with her.

Sure, there are moments during the job which required the two of you to be alone, such as car rides, airplane rides, or the few minutes at the backstage dressing room where all the stylists have gone out and it was just the two of you. But, you two were never left alone in this capacity, in a very private setting, for quite some time, given she invited you over to eat as well.

Shaking away these thoughts were the ding signifying the elevator was there, and along with it, the doors opening. Stepping inside, was just you. As the doors closed, your fate was slowly sealed for the rest of the night.

Another ding rang out, this means you're on her floor now, which meant it was time to step out of the elevator. Carrying the bag of food she requested, you simply walked along the hallway, looking for her door. And then you saw it, Room 1029. This was her door.

The doorbell beside was already calling your name, and you took the chance to press it, where the chime of the bell had echoed in her apartment, making her leave the bed and walk towards her door to let you in.

As she opens the door, you were quite shocked to see what she was wearing. She had her hair tied in a clamp, she wore a black camisole that hugged her top and showed a little bit of her cleavage, and paired with that are black bike shorts, it made it seem like her white legs were greeting you with a smile, and on top of that, she was wearing cute fluffy bunny slippers that completed her look.

"Hi, come in. Thank goodness you're finally here, i'm kinda starving." She said that with a smile, which you can consider a smirk, but you paid little attention to the detail.

"Thank you, I'll cook your ramen, can you point me to the kitchen?" You say as you take your shoes off and set it aside.

"It's right over there, thanks a lot!" She says that with a beam of sunshine on her face.

She offered you some fluffy slippers as well, so you took it. After wearing them, it really is super comfortable, and it made your bare feet feel like it was already in bed.

Going straight to her kitchen, you took out the ramen packs and boiled some water. Yuri went by your side, touching your arm in the process.

"Aren't you wondering why I felt lonely?"

"I was thinking you'd tell me later."

"Well... it's a bit of a long story, but I'd really love to tell you why."

It was almost like teasing, the way her tone sounded during those words. You could only nod as a response, still being clueless as to what Yuri was trying to do, and it made her a little needy, seeing her manager being aloof, trying to bring his walls up to deny her advances. But Yuri hasn't started yet.

"I wanted some good times. My old managers were female, but they provided me whatever I needed, sending over some, company." Yuri is rubbing her palm up and down your arm now.

"Good times? What does that mean?" You ask, confused by what she meant.

"It's a very lonely industry, I used to be in a group, so I was never really alone back then, but these days, I find myself more and more lonely, and I've been looking for people to... spend time with."

"So me? Your manager?"

"Ah... but you could be more than just my manager." Yuri winks.

You take the ramen and pour it out on two bowls, and prepare her fishcakes as well. "Like what?"

She takes the pot from you, and puts it down gently on the sink before walking back and caressing your chest.

"I'd be happy to show you later, oppa."

The tension in that room really went high once she said that word in a sultry tone. It was getting really dangerous, and it could boil at any minute, and it made you scared. If things did happen, you could get fired, and that'll be the least of your problems.

"Ah... Yuri, the food is ready..." You look away, staring at the prepared food beside you.

She smirks and takes her hands off of you. "Okay, let's have a warm meal first."

You breathe a sigh of relief as the both of you bring the food to the small dining table nearby, and she deliberately sat beside you, in a very close manner.

She takes a sip of the noodles, and hummed in delight. "Ahh... you got the delicious ones, this is great!"

"I like this brand too. It's my hangover meal."

She raises her brows with a smile. "You drink heavy, oppa?"

There she goes again. It just hits a nerve within you, and every time she says it you just want to throw yourself out the window before you do anything stupid.

"No... just casually... when there's an event."

"I see." She says as she goes back to sipping her noodles.

The tension is higher than ever now. It was very difficult nursing a raging boner in your pants while hearing her say those words, thank goodness she hasn't looked down yet.

Unfortunately for you, that's exactly what she's going for. You try to stay focused, sipping on your ramen and praying to god she's not planning any more funny stuff. But Yuri was planning for more funny stuff, and she looked down to see a bulge on your pants, and she smiled to herself knowing that she has won, without even laying a finger on you.

In your head, everything was circling and you were getting dizzy thinking about a lot of things. All the clearer and innocent thoughts have been thrown out the window, and you think back to the way she answered the door for you earlier, with nearly everything just exposed, and it got your cock twitching with excitement while you desperately try to think about something disgusting to remove that boner before Yuri says anything about it.

"Is there a phone in your pants, or are you just excited to see me?" Yuri smiles and traces her fingers along your thighs, dangerously close to your crotch, then you freeze.

There was no response. Your brain has short-circuited, and the neurons that your brain was supposed to send to your mouth to start talking has been neutralized by this girl, your supposed boss, who has her hand inching closer, and closer, nearing the inevitable part of touching that raging boner you had been hiding, and as time slows down, her pinky got there first.

She had a small feel of your cock. Albeit far from actually touching your cock, she was there. She was still inching, until her entire hand was laid there on top of your crotch, and she was smiling.

"Oppa, are you okay?" She asked, smiling, hoping to break you out of your frozen trance.

"Yuri..."

She stood from her chair, leaned to your side, and wrapped her arms around your neck before she whispers, "Why did you have to wear such a thick fabric tonight? This would've been so much easier."

"I'm not sure... how to respond, Yuri. What are you doing to me...?"

She breaks a smile as she kisses your cheek, "It's pretty obvious. I called you over because I'm lonely, and I needed a man to fuck me. And you are so hot oppa, I've been wanting you ever since you applied for this job, I wanted them to hire you, and I have been waiting until you're comfortable enough to come to my home, and use my body as you wish."

Your cock had viciously twitched, and it really hurt for it to be in your pants, and that was all the response Yuri needed from you.

"Come on, let's go to my room, get these clothes out of the way." She giggles as she says it.

"W-wait... I might get fired."

"For what? Doing your job?" She smiles again as she takes your hand in hers.

"This... is part of the job?" You look at her with an eyebrow up, confused.

"Your job includes taking care of my every need, and right now, I need you. Don't worry, okay? Everything will be okay, I promise."

"None of this will get out?"

"I should be the one asking you that, cutie." Yuri smiles again, that damned smile.

It finally makes you crack a smile, and you wholeheartedly embrace the situation you are in, so you lean in slowly and kiss her.

She returns the kiss with a strong fervor, and cups your cheeks as she deepens the kiss. Your hands roam around the side of her body, before landing on her hips, hugging her figure and pulling her closer to you.

Yuri moans in the kiss, and this made you hungrier, more needy, and started kissing her with a burning passion, and those touches on her hips turn into something more of a primal instinct, you grabbed her ass, and carried her. In turn, Yuri wrapped her legs around you as she got even deeper into the kiss, whining and moaning while you try to walk towards her room with Yuri pointing out where to go.

Once you were in front of her door, fiddling with the doorknob, Yuri laughs at you cutely and you give her a sly smile, before finally looking down and opening the door to her room.

Her room is pretty cluttered, pink walls, with her dressing table with a vanity mirror attached to it, a lot of makeup products scattered on the table, her hair dryer splayed on the chair, and some clothes hanging on the chair itself. There is another table across, her laptop right there, along with some pens and paper, you're assuming she's studying something, going to online classes.

Then there's her bed, it's a really comfortable looking bed, with weighted blankets, and a lot of stuff toys on the pillows, since they all look so different, you can assume that those are the gifts she's received from fans over the years.

You walk her towards the bed and plop her down, and she starts clearing her bed out, taking her plushies and stuffed toys and tossing it towards the chair near the bed, stacking them on top of each other. You sat on her bed, waiting for her to finish, and she flashes you a quick giggle while she's clearing her bed out, which earned a sweet smile from you.

Once she was done, she took a pillow and placed it on the floor in front of you, before kneeling on it, "I think you deserve something from me, after I really made your life hard." She says as she moves her hands towards the band of your thick sweatpants and pull it down slowly, along with your boxers, revealing your throbbing cock, which earned a relieving gasp from you, finally letting it breathe after getting set free.

"Ooh..." Her fingers wrap around your length, as she takes into stock the girth of it all, looking at it up and down while she slowly strokes your cock to understand its length.

The way her fingers are moving elicits a low moan from you, it feels like she knows where to hit you, and it feels really good. She hasn't even done anything that's going to break you just yet.

"It's quite big... but I think I can take this." She closes her eyes and places small kisses on the frenulum, trailing them downward, and takes your balls into her mouth, while stroking your length slowly. Her eyes drift from appreciating the length of your cock towards your eyes, making eye contact with you.

You see the hunger in her eyes, as she takes your balls gracefully and using her other hand to grip you properly and stroke you well, and damn does it feel so good with every single lick, and every single stroke with her hand just feels like heaven.

It's pretty obvious that she has done this before, the way she knows how to jerk you off, her licks on your underside with just enough pressure, her thumbing your frenulum while she spits on the head of your cock to make everything feel wetter and so much better.

Twitch after twitch, she notices you gripping her sheets, trying not to cum right then and there.

"I know I'm that good but, already?" She smiles and lets your cock go, leaving you with an empty feeling and thrusting into the air wanting for more.

"You're cute, oppa. I'll suck your cock, but promise me not to cum, okay?"

"Okay..."

She puts her hands behind her back, smirking and taking in the head of your cock in her mouth, without a single touch. She slowly lowers herself, deeper and deeper into your cock, until her nose touches your pelvic area, and her beautiful mouth has enveloped your cock.

You were struggling, you could feel her throat opening and closing on your cock and it's unbelievably difficult to maintain your composure, doing your best not to bust right then and there. You keep your hand right above her head, wanting to touch her and hold her right there but you freeze, your hand just shaking in the air while your eyes are rolling to the back of your head.

Yuri slowly comes back up, and you feel the cool air on the base of your cock again, but it didn't last long as she starts bobbing her head faster, sucking your cock passionately and trailing her eyes towards you.

Looking at you just made her want to break you more, sucking your cock faster, and finally using her hands to fondle your balls at the same time.

The pressure and the pleasure of her blowjob is making you moan so loud, her spit trailing down the length of your cock, down to your balls, her chin, and the floor underneath.

"Yuri... oh my fucking god... I don't think I can last any longer if you keep that up."

She suddenly stops, edging you, and smiles as she wipes the drool off her chin and giggles, "Okay, I'll stop now."

"W-what...?"

"You can't cum yet. I still need you hard."

"But.. I'm so close..."

"Nope. You promised not to cum yet." She smiles and stands, taking her pillow and dusting it off before tossing it back on the bed.

"You're mean."

"Am I?" Her camisole comes off, revealing a cute pair of tits, and asks you to do the same.

You finally take your hoodie off, as well as your shirt, tossing it across the room with the rest of your clothes. Now it's just Yuri in her shorts, and your eyes are locked towards her boobs.

"Okay oppa, fuck me." Yuri slowly takes off her shorts, tosses it away, and you finally see her pussy, which is unbelievably wet.

You grab her and place her down the bed, spreading her legs and gliding two of your fingers down on her, earning a cute moan.

She grabs your cock, still wet from her spit, and grazes your cock head on her slit, earning louder moans. She tries to insert it herself, being very impatient, and without a care, you plunged it inside her deep.

"Ahh! Fuck!" She moans as your cock slides in easily, fucking her relentlessly without any build-up.

Her arms wrap around your head while you bury your lips into her neck, with her moaning louder with each strong thrust.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! Don't stop! Keep going hard! Yes!" Earlier she was breaking you, and now that you have control, fucking her into delight, you're breaking her.

"Take this fucking cock, Yuri. You love this fucking cock don't you?"

"Yes! I love that cock! Please please please!"

She was creaming down there, getting white cream all over the length of your cock and down towards the bed, she's unbelievably horny, and her legs are shaking again and again, cumming over and over without you stopping, or skipping a beat.

Her eyes have rolled behind her head and her grip on your neck has loosened, her body splayed down the bed taking your massive pounding again and again.

You've managed to hold your cum off now, and you're feeling that familiar feeling down there, and you just can't hold it any longer.

"Yuri... I'm gonna fucking cum..."

"Don't you dare pull out."

"What...?"

"Finish inside me, deep inside, make an even bigger mess than I am making, please."

"I could get in trou-"

"Just fucking cum inside! I'm safe! Please! Ohh my fucking god!"

You feel her pussy tighten and loosen again, signifying that she came for an uncountable number this night, and you finally break, spraying load after load of thick cum deep inside her, mixing with her creamy pussy and making a huge creampie mess right then and there, spilling out of her pussy and leaking on the sheets.

"There... fuck... there..." You say as you fall down beside her, pulling out and letting her the mixed juices of her cum and yours inside her pussy leak down.

"That... was the best creampie I have ever gotten." She pants as she closes her eyes.

You hug her, "We should change your sheets before we sleep..."

"Okay..." She wobbles up, her legs shaking, making you smile, because you did that. You made her cum again and again and now she could barely walk.

You asked where her sheets are and changed everything yourself. Afterwards, you took a towel and cleaned her off before finally going back to bed so you two could cuddle.

"I'm glad you're my manager, oppa."

"You can drop the oppa act now, Yuri, I fucked you already."

"No, I mean it. On top of being a handsome dude, you fuck like a machine, so much better than any guy I've ever had. But I need you to promise something..."

"What is it?" You take her chin and make her look up at you.

"You know that my career is... pretty unstable. I don't get schedules on a regular basis, or even make music a guarantee." She says as you nod.

"Promise you'll stay through the rough times? You've been really good to me, you're an amazing manager and I know you're here for a paycheck, but it would be really great if you stayed."

You plant a kiss on her lips and smile, "Yuri, I'll stay. It times get rough, I'll do anything with you to get a paycheck. I know you're not in a stable position, but we'll get there. I'll help find you opportunities, whether that be a comeback or an acting gig, maybe something else, but I'll stay, for you."

"Thank you." She smiles as she gives you a softer kiss this time.

"I love you." She says one more time before closing her eyes.

"I love you too." You reply. Whatever love means to Yuri, you know you're in for the long haul, whether you like it or not.

-FIN-

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Here you go Glassys, I hope you like this one. If you all want, you could send me some inspiration for fics, pictures or prompts, go ahead. I probably won't do requests, but short inspirations would be awesome. Thanks for the support thus far, and I love you all.

Just keep swimming.

-Shark

[lizmidfordsblog]

So you're telling me that, Choi Jung Gun, this giga chad of a man was

dumped into another world w/ zero explanation

language barriers, who? cultural barriers, outta the way

casually participated in a literal war before he turned legal

canonically was a little shit who loved running his mouth

mind you, in a another world w/ zero context, powers, or protection

likely got his ass beat multiple times

somehow gaslight, gatekeep, girlbossed his way into being a Dragon Slayer

literally made a career out of being a little shit and bluffing

essentially ran a ponzi scheme with his bestie, Lord Sherritt

oh, right, somehow managed to BEFRIEND the literal Dragon Lord

was canonically weak as shit, but with a long lifespan.

was hardcore af, literally shortened his lifespan to make the Sword of Disasters

literally wrote an f-u note for future transmigrators, telling them to essentially go kill themselves

(for those telling him to do it himself if it's so important, he f-ing does).

a literal wattpad author, writing weeb, certified nerd, cursed ao3 author

died, gave the God of Death the middle finger, and became a wanderer

oh wait, also BEAT the literal God of Death with a broom

is a sugar baby, regularly steals the GoD's money to buy shit like cars

casually wrote a literal survival guide on the side while simultaneously babysitting a random kid and actively hunting down hunters.

likely stalked his family members, calling himself bob

literally has his own personal super saiyan mode

lost an arm (allegedly) and bounced back like a boss

mouthy af, little shit type but baby girl coded.

probably has no idea what tf an email is. or the internet. or a phone.

would absolutely fucking fold over choi han's terrible acting.

And this man is too awkward to talk to his family members probably.

EDIT: oh wait, also, this guy is ATLEAST ten thousand years old. Think about that. He's older than the oldest human civilization.

[big-ooof]

Talk to Dad About It

dad!Sunghoon x f!reader

note: I think I'm hormonal, but like baby-fever hormonal...maybe not lol. but here's another dad!enha storyline. No smut, no angst, pretty fucking wholesome.

Saturdays meant sticky fingers and strawberry-stained cheeks. The early sun filtered through the curtains as your three-year-old daughter climbed onto your bed with her usual greeting—a giggle and a cold foot pressed to your side.

You groaned dramatically. “How do you have this much energy already?”

“I had strawberries,” she declared proudly, cheeks pink, a dot of red still at the corner of her mouth.

“I just washed those sheets, baby,” you sighed, already reaching to wipe her face with the corner of the blanket.

That’s when Sunghoon walked in, holding the plastic pint of strawberries and a guilty smile. “She caught me in the kitchen. I folded.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You bribed her so you wouldn’t have to get back in bed and watch Bluey for the fifth time.”

He walked around the bed and leaned down to kiss your forehead. “It’s called strategic delegation.”

Your daughter reached over and patted your cheek. “Daddy’s funny.”

“He thinks so,” you said dryly, sitting up and brushing her hair back. “Farmer’s market?”

Sunghoon grinned. “Always.”

There was something ritualistic about the way the three of you moved through the local stalls. Your daughter sat perched on Sunghoon’s shoulders, legs swinging and eyes wide, while he narrated everything they passed like a dad-joke-infused tour guide.

“That,” he pointed, “is kale. Mommy only buys that when she’s mad at me.”

“Daddy,” you hissed, laughing.

“Is that true, Mama?” your daughter asked with absolute seriousness.

“No, baby,” you answered, biting back a grin. “Daddy just doesn’t know how to cook it.”

Sunghoon reached over to squeeze your hand, thumb brushing your wedding ring, and gave you the soft, crooked smile that always made your chest ache in that warm, familiar way.

You bought homemade jam, two sunflowers, and your daughter begged for a honey stick that stained her lips and hands by the time you got back to the car. She promptly passed out in her car seat, her face sticky, hair messy, and her head tilted just so against the window.

At home, you took turns cleaning up the kitchen while the other unpacked the groceries. Sunghoon made you coffee while humming something vaguely familiar under his breath—something sweet, probably from a lullaby.

You were rinsing fruit when you felt small arms circle your leg.

“Hey, baby,” you murmured, reaching down to smooth your daughter's hair. “You’re up?”

She nodded sleepily, blinking up at you. “Mama…”

“Hm?”

She rocked a little on her heels before looking up with wide, hopeful eyes. “Can I have a baby sister?”

You froze. Completely off guard. Soap bubbles still clinging to your wrist. “A baby…?”

She nodded again, like this was a casual post-nap conversation.

“W-Why do you want a baby sister?” you asked gently, crouching down to meet her eyes.

“So she can have you and daddy too.” Her voice was matter-of-fact. “I already talked to daddy about it.”

Your brain short-circuited. “You what?”

Sunghoon’s voice floated in from the hallway, where he was folding dish towels. “She caught me off guard yesterday during snack time. Told me she wants someone to share blueberries with.”

You turned your head to look at him, stunned. “And what did you say?”

He leaned against the doorway, smirking, arms crossed. “I said it sounded like a good idea.”

“You did not—”

“Why not?” he shrugged, grinning wider now. “She made a compelling case.”

You turned back to your daughter, who was now hugging your waist and resting her cheek against your belly like she already knew something you didn’t.

“You can talk to Daddy about it,” she whispered, like it was a little secret. “I think he wants one too.”

You looked up at Sunghoon, who was still watching you with that same soft, amused affection. And you couldn’t even argue with him. Not when he looked like that—soft sweater sleeves pushed up to his elbows, hair messy from the wind, face glowing from the sunlight still filtering in through the window.

You sighed. “Guess we’re talking about it,” you said, brushing your daughter’s hair back with a smile you couldn’t suppress.

“Tonight,” Sunghoon offered, walking over to kiss your cheek from behind. “After she’s asleep.”

Your daughter blinked up at you again. “Do I get to name her?”

You choked on a laugh. “One step at a time, sweetheart.”

But Sunghoon just whispered in your ear: “She already picked three names. Hope you like ‘Princess Berry Snowflake.’”

You turned and lightly smacked his chest.And he laughed like it was the best joke he’d told all day.

It was quiet now. The kind of quiet that only happened after bath time, three bedtime stories, and a soft but firm “No, baby, you already had water—no, this is not an emergency.”

You leaned against the kitchen counter, wearing one of Sunghoon’s old t-shirts and cotton shorts, sipping the last of your wine and letting the day roll off your shoulders in layers. Behind you, the dishwasher hummed. From down the hall, silence finally meant sleep.

You heard Sunghoon’s footsteps before you saw him. Slow. Barefoot. Comfortable in his element—sweatpants slung low on his hips and a clean tee that still smelled faintly like your fabric softener and him. He slipped behind you, arms circling your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

“She’s out cold,” he murmured against your skin.

“Thank God,” you breathed, leaning back into him. “She’s getting stronger. I think she could take us if we teamed up.”

Sunghoon laughed into your neck. “I think she already has. One strawberry at a time.”

You hummed, quiet for a beat, before nudging him gently with your elbow. “So…”

“So,” he echoed, playing with the edge of your shirt.

“You really said yes to her? When she asked about a sibling?”

“I said it was a good idea,” he replied, voice low and warm. “Didn’t say when.”

You twisted a little to face him, his hands still on your waist, now sliding up the small of your back with that familiar ease. “She said you already had a whole talk about it.”

“Oh, we did,” he nodded, mock-serious. “Very thorough. She thinks it should be a girl. So she can wear bows and help her fight invisible dragons.”

You snorted. “And you just agreed?”

“She used her please voice.” He gave you a look. “You know I’m weak for that.”

You tilted your head, heart softening despite yourself. “Would you really want another?”

Sunghoon’s eyes flicked across your face like he was memorizing something. “I’d want anything with you,” he said simply. “Another baby. Another decade of bedtime stories. Another Saturday at the market. I’d do it all over again.”

Your breath caught for a second. He said it so casually, but it hit somewhere deep. He didn’t just love being a dad. He loved being one with you.

“But only if you want it,” he added, gently now, thumb stroking the curve of your waist. “You’re the one who carried her. Who nursed and woke up and rocked her through all those nights I slept through like an idiot.”

“You changed every diaper for six weeks straight,” you reminded him, voice quiet.

“That was a small price to pay for not birthing an entire human,” he said, grinning now. “Also, I’m pretty sure she liked me more after that.”

“She likes you more because you give her strawberries at 7 AM,” you teased.

“She likes you more because you’re her safe place,” he said without missing a beat. “She runs to me for fun. But she runs to you when she’s scared.”

You blinked. The wine, the warmth, the words—you weren’t sure which made your chest ache more.

“Sunghoon…”

His hands found your hips again. “You’re already the best mom I’ve ever seen. If we do this again, it’s not because anything’s missing. It’s because I want more of this. Of us.”

You slid your arms around his neck and pulled him in, kissing him softly—long, grateful, full of quiet emotion. And then he kissed you back with something deeper.

“Baby,” he murmured against your lips, “I love this shirt on you, but I’d love it more on the floor.”

You broke into a laugh, pressing your forehead to his. “You’re impossible.”

He walked you backward toward the bedroom, smile pressed to your jaw. “She asked if we’d start tonight.”

“She what?!”

“She most definitely does not know how babies are made but I still said you’d probably need convincing.”

You were breathless now, caught between laughter and heat. “And how do you plan to do that, exactly?”

Sunghoon’s voice dropped, his hands skimming under your shirt. “Thought I’d remind you how good we are at this.”

“Mm. You mean parenting?”

He grinned. “Sure. That too.”

Afterwards, you were curled into his chest, blanket tangled around your legs, your fingers drawing lazy circles on his bare stomach. Sunghoon was half-asleep, lips near your temple.

“She’s gonna be so smug when we tell her we tried,” you whispered.

“Let her be. She’s not wrong,” he said sleepily. “Princess Berry Snowflake is a powerful negotiator.”

You laughed again, heart full. And maybe it wouldn’t happen tonight. Maybe not next month. But the idea of growing your family—of choosing more love, more chaos, more you and him—suddenly felt less like a maybe. And more like a promise.

It happened on a Tuesday. A completely average, boring, leftover-for-lunch kind of Tuesday. You weren’t trying exactly. Not the way you had the first time, when you tracked every cycle and peed on more sticks than you cared to remember. But you’d been…open. To the idea. The possibility. The little voice of your daughter still echoing in your mind: “I already talked to Daddy about it.”

You thought you were just tired. Maybe hormonal. You cried at a commercial for baby lotion. You snapped at Sunghoon for leaving socks under the dining table (he hadn’t), and when your daughter spilled her juice and whispered, “I sorry, Mama,” you teared up instantly and held her for ten full minutes.

You found the last pregnancy test wedged in the back of the bathroom drawer, behind the heating pad and the mystery nail polish from 2022.

You didn’t think it would be positive. You were almost sure it wouldn’t be. You told yourself not to read into anything. Not to hope. But when you set it on the counter and turned back a minute later—Two lines. Two. You just…Stared.

For a long minute, your brain emptied out like a shaken Etch A Sketch. You sat on the edge of the tub in complete silence, holding the test in your lap like it might start speaking. Then a tiny knock at the bathroom door.

“Mama?” A small voice. Your daughter. “Can I come in?”

You blinked, remembered how to breathe, and cracked the door open. “Hi, baby,” you said, voice barely steady. “Where’s Daddy?”

She pointed down the hallway. “He’s folding socks. I told him to wait.”

You blinked again. “You told him to—?”

She slipped into the bathroom and stood in front of you, looking curiously at the white stick in your hand. “What’s that?”

You smiled softly, eyes burning. “It means… there’s a baby in Mama’s belly.”

Her eyes went round. Mouth open. She gasped like you’d just given her a unicorn. “Really?!”

You nodded.

Then she screamed. Not a frightened scream—a delighted, absolutely ecstatic shriek that echoed down the hallway like a fire alarm. You heard Sunghoon’s footsteps before you saw him.

He burst into the room, one sock in his hand, completely panicked. “What happened?! What’s wrong?!”

She turned and shouted: “It’s happening! The baby! She has it!”

You snorted a laugh, still teary, still holding the test.

Sunghoon looked at you. Then at the test. Then at you again. And he froze. He blinked, like he needed to reboot. Then slowly—slowly—a smile spread across his face. That full, boyish, starry smile that had always wrecked you a little.

He stepped forward. “Wait, for real?”

You nodded, barely getting the word out. “Yeah.”

He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath since you first mentioned it. Dropped the sock. Reached for you, hands framing your face so gently.

“Baby,” he whispered, awed. “We’re really doing this again?”

“Looks like it.”

Then he kissed you. Deep and warm and grateful. He pulled you into his arms like he could hold the whole moment in place.

Your daughter tugged at his shirt. “Can I name it Princess Berry Snowflake now?”

He crouched to her level, one hand still around your waist, the other ruffling her hair. “You can suggest it,” he said seriously. “But we’re gonna need a shortlist.”

She grinned and threw her arms around both of you, squished in the middle, her face against your growing belly like she already knew her little world had changed forever.

Later that night, you lay on your side in bed, tucked into Sunghoon’s chest, his hand resting over your stomach. You weren’t showing yet, but his thumb brushed there like something sacred was already growing beneath his palm.

“She knew,” you whispered.

“She always knows,” he murmured. “She’s definitely your kid.”

You laughed. “She’s absolutely your kid. The drama? The confidence? The full announcement before we even confirmed it?”

“Okay,” he said, grinning. “Maybe she’s equal parts.”

You turned your head to look up at him. “Are you scared?”

He was quiet for a moment. Then: “No. Just… overwhelmed. In a good way. Like I didn’t know I could love this much again. But I do. Already.”

Your heart swelled so fast you thought it might split open. “I’m glad it’s with you,” you said softly.

Sunghoon pulled you closer. “There’s no one else I’d want to do this life with.”

And in the quiet, warm dark, with your daughter sleeping down the hall and a future just beginning inside you— You knew: You were already a family...and somehow, impossibly, it was about to grow even more beautiful.

You and Sunghoon had decided to make it special for your daughter—something cute and lowkey for just the three of you. You bought vanilla cupcakes with white frosting from a local bakery and had them fill the center with either pink or blue cream. You let her hold the box the whole ride home. She carried it like it was a crown jewel.

Sunghoon set up the camera—“Just for us,” he said, even though you knew he’d end up watching it every night like a dork. The three of you sat on the couch with matching anticipation. Your daughter’s little fingers peeled back the wrapper like it was Christmas morning.

She bit into the cupcake. Blue. Bright, unmistakable, boy blue. Silence. Not even a blink. Just…staring at it like it personally offended her. You and Sunghoon exchanged a look, trying not to laugh.

Finally, she frowned. “Why is it blue?”

Sunghoon gently leaned in. “That means it’s a baby brother, sweet pea.”

Another beat of silence. Then she gasped, mouth full of frosting. “I ordered a sister.”

You broke. Sunghoon clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the laugh bursting out of him.

“I—baby, we can’t really order siblings,” you managed, kneeling beside her. “Sometimes you just get the surprise.”

She blinked slowly. “But he’s not gonna like princesses. Or sparkles. Or tea parties.”

“We don’t know that,” Sunghoon said, still grinning. “He might love tea parties.”

Your daughter narrowed her eyes. “Does he even know about unicorns?”

You pressed your lips together, trying to stay serious. “Probably not yet. But maybe you can teach him.”

She pouted and crossed her arms. “He better like glitter.”

The next few days… were rough. She started referring to your bump as “the boy problem.” She put her dolls in a “girls only” basket. She told the grocery store cashier, “We’re having a brother, but it’s not my fault.”

Sunghoon was beside himself. “I think I just got out-stubborned by a four-year-old.”

“Congratulations,” you replied. “You met your match.”

Everything changed the night she felt him kick. You were reading in bed while she lay curled up beside you, hand on your belly like always. This time, your baby rolled—a slow, strong nudge right beneath her palm.

She gasped. Eyes wide. “Was that him?”

You smiled softly. “Yeah, that was him saying hi.”

Her hand stayed there. Still. In awe. Then: “Hi, baby,” she whispered. “It’s me. Your big sister.”

Your heart cracked clean open.

She looked up at you. “Can I still teach him about rainbows?”

You kissed the top of her head. “He would be so lucky to learn from you.”

She rested her cheek on your belly, little fingers petting it gently. “I guess he can come,” she said, already half-asleep. “But only if he shares his snacks.”

And when he finally arrived… She wore her fanciest dress to the hospital. Brought a handmade card. Demanded to be the first to hold him “because I’m the boss of siblings now.”

She held him like a sacred treasure—like something she didn’t know she needed until he looked up at her with wide, blinking eyes and wrinkled fingers.

Sunghoon watched you both from across the room, hair messy, eyes soft, daughter in one arm and son in the other, as if his whole heart had just doubled overnight.

“She’s got him,” you whispered.

“She always will,” he whispered back.

Later that night at home, you tucked her into bed and she clutched her stuffed unicorn close, eyes heavy.

“Mama?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I think he’s okay. The boy problem.”

You smiled. “I think he’s more like a boy miracle.”

She yawned. “Mmm… okay. I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

And as she drifted to sleep, Sunghoon leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, watching the whole scene with a quiet kind of awe.

“You realize,” he whispered, slipping his hand into yours, “we’re completely outnumbered now.”

You nodded. “Yes. Yes we are.”

You blinked awake to the soft patter of water on the roof and Sunghoon’s arm already slung around your waist, his breath warm on your neck. The baby was still snoozing in the bassinet beside the bed, soft sighs and tiny baby grunts filling the quiet.

And then, at exactly 6:12 AM, came the tiny thump-thump-thump of feet down the hallway. Your daughter climbed into bed with the urgency of someone who just remembered she had parents to cuddle.

“Good morning,” you whispered sleepily.

She wriggled between you and Sunghoon like a kitten, hugging your pillow and mumbling, “It’s raining. That means it’s a snuggle day.”

Sunghoon groaned softly but smiled into your shoulder. “She’s not wrong.”

By 9 AM, no one had moved far from bed. The baby had joined the pile after his morning feed, curled against Sunghoon’s chest, making soft content sounds as Sunghoon hummed gently and rubbed his back in little circles.

Your daughter insisted on reading The Bear Who Forgot It Was Rainy aloud, even though she mostly made up the words and occasionally paused to whisper, “Did you hear that? That was a really good narrator voice.”

You and Sunghoon shared soft looks over the top of her head.

Later, the rain got heavier. No cartoons. No rush. Just warm blankets, warm skin, and your husband shifting everyone closer like he wanted to keep you all safe from the outside world.

“Remember when rain meant we had to cancel plans?” you murmured.

Sunghoon smiled against your temple. “Now it just means pajamas and babies and crumbs in the bed.”

“Oh—so many crumbs,” you said, catching your daughter sneak a cracker. She grinned with no remorse.

The baby babbled something halfway between a gurgle and a coo, reaching for his sister’s hair with grabby hands.

“Careful, little man,” Sunghoon said softly. “That’s sacred territory.”

She leaned in, letting her baby brother grab a chunk of her ponytail with delight. “He’s trying to say hi with his fists.”

“Just like you used to,” you teased.

Around midday, the four of you had migrated to the couch. Sunghoon had one arm around you, the baby dozing across his chest again, and your daughter curled into the crook of your side with a fuzzy blanket over her lap.

“You know,” he murmured, voice low and a little husky from the slow day, “I used to think rest days were boring.” You turned to look at him. He smiled. “But now I think they’re my favorite.”

Later, when the storm softened into a drizzle, you all stayed put anyway. The living room a mess of baby socks, storybooks, crumbs, and love. Sunghoon ran his fingers through your daughter’s hair as she drifted to sleep on your lap. The baby sighed in his arms like he belonged there forever. You leaned into him, heart heavy in the best way.

“This is it,” he whispered. “This is the dream.”

You nodded. “No reservations. No shoes. Just rain and us.”

And from under his breath, sleepy and soft: “Let’s do nothing again tomorrow.”

[kaybugga]

Simon “Ghost”  Riley x Wife!Reader

December 15th: “Mom! Dad! I know what I want for Christmas. . . A sibling!”

Note: You and Simon have a six year old daughter named Bellatrix; nickname Trixy

TW: suggestive towards end WC: 692

Requested: Nope!

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

“No.”

Simon says as Bellatrix suggests that she wants a pony for Christmas. A pony, really?! Neither of you are made of money, let alone have the money to buy land for said pony, the pony itself, nor the necessities! 

You stifle a laugh as Trixy stomps her little foot as she angrily crosses messy writing off her Santa list.

“Maybe Santa will get it for you.”

You suggest, trying to lighten the mood of your angry daughter. She shakes her head as she scans through her list. Her deep chocolate brown eyes going up and down her paper before her eyes sparkle and widen. 

“Mom! Dad! I want a sibling for Christmas!”

Bellatrix exclaims excitedly, proudly showing you her list with the word ‘sibling’ in all caps with bolded letters. Jeez, she must really want a sibling.

Simon snorts before biting back a smile. 

“Bloody hell. . . You want a sibling?”

Simon asks, kneeling down to be eye level with your excited daughter. She eagerly nods, shoving the paper into her dad’s hands which he takes, clearing his throat; preparing to read off every item.

“Let's see. Pony; not happening. Bluey car; might happen. Oranges? Why in the world do you want oranges?”

He lists off with a laugh upon reading ‘oranges’. Bellatrix has always liked oranges, and gets one in every lunch she takes to school. 

“I like oranges.”

Is all she says with her six-year old sass before Simon continues down the list with you peeking over his shoulder.

“Sibling, now that, that I can make that happen, but you'll have to talk to mom ‘bout that one.”

You feel your face heat up upon seeing him look up at you with a wolfish grin and wink. You shake your head before putting in your own input.

“Trixy, that's not quite how that works.”

You chuckle as you get down to her eye level with Simon, who's clearly biting back laughter.

“Why not?”

Your daughter asks, clearly confused on why you can't just get her a sibling. Seriously, don't they just kinda’. . . Appear? That's how it works to a six year old mind at least.

“Well. . . Think of It like making cookies. You have to make the dough, form the cookie dough, bake them, and then you have to wait for them to cool off.”

Bellatrix seems to understand that you can't just get a child from the multiple emotions running over her face. Then once you and Simon stand back up, Trixy speaks up.

“So how do we make one?”

She asks excitedly, earning a laugh from your husband who's laughing so hard he's got tears lining his eyes. You can't help but chuckle to yourself and rub the bridge of your nose. Simon walks away, little chuckles pushing past his lips.

“How about you think really hard about what you want, and we can come back to this later. Alright?”

You suggest with a smile as you guide her back to the table to write what she wants for Christmas, leaving the Amazon catalog you get each year next to her. 

You walk away and to your bedroom, chucking to yourself at the face Beatrix made when you and Simon laughed at question.

“How do we make one. . .”

You giggle to yourself as you walk inside your room, Simon sitting on your bed, scrolling on his phone.

“I can answer that, and I'd be more than happy to show you.”

Simon says from his spot on the bed, which you quickly shut down.

“You sure you don't wanna’ make Trixy a big sister?”

He asks after tackling, leaving you a giggling mess as you try to get him off. Eventually, Simon flips the two of you over, him laying on his back with his large calloused hands surprisingly gentle as they hold you in place. You're straddling him now with your softer hands pressed onto his sculpted chest.

“Would you look at that? We're already halfway there. Would be a shame if we wasted such an opportunity, no?”

He chuckles deeply as he massages your sides.

“I guess it would.”

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

A/N: so, I'm taking a shot at shorter fics and not forcing myself to make fics longer 🥲

Anyway, would You guys want a part 2 to this? Because I'd be more than happy to write one!

[mercurial-chuckles]

HIS FIORE - PART 1

Summary: Steve smexy Rogers moves into the neighborhood, and one evening, he catches you sneaking into the building opposite his through the fire escape. He watches curiously, slightly amused and, quite frankly, amazed by you. Guess what he does next? He writes a note, signs it with his middle name, Grant, and slips it under your door. How will you discover that Grant is none other than Captain America? Series Warnings: Language | Eventual smut | Mature content (minors DNI) | Steve’s naughty thoughts | Steve in-love Rogers | Steve possessive jealous Rogers | Drunk Steve (adorable, hot mess) | Neighbors | Secret identity | Steve watching the reader from a distance (slightly stalker-ish…ish) | A smidge of angst | Overloaded fluff | Happy happy ending

Chapter Warning: Language | Steve watching the reader from a distance (slightly stalker-ish…ish) | Good ol' fluff

A/N: Finally finished writing this! Originally, I wrote two parts as connected prompts for Steve Rogers Bingo Round 3, but I've decided to revamp the entire piece. Also, I'm going to try sticking to a schedule--wish me luck! 😉 Banner credits: Me | Photo credits: The internet | Divider credits: @buck-star (Sydney, thanks a trillion ❤️)

Note: Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work! Check out my other works: Masterlist

His Fiore Series Masterlist

Indulge Away!

Steve was happier, much happier now that the excruciatingly long recruiting was done. It was a nightmare to have Tony during the recruiting, and now that it was all over, Steve would get a good night's rest.

"Maybe you should try asking that nurse from the med-bay...Nina, I think her name is," Natasha had suggested casually as they walked toward the compound's parking garage after the painstakingly long day.

Steve groaned, running a hand over his face. He shot her a sharp look, trying to convey just how disinterested he was in this line of conversation. If Steve could, he would have sprinted away, but with Natasha, there was no escaping a conversation, especially this. She'd been too interested in his personal life or lack thereof.

He was happy with his hobbies: sketching and visiting museums. In fact, he could take up a side gig as a virtual museum guide.

"Look, can we drop it? I'm really not interested," he emphasized firmly as he approached his bike quickly.

Natasha smirked, undeterred. "Might be time to find someone to keep you in check, old man," she teased, climbing into her car.

Steve rolled his eyes as he swung his leg over his bike. Natasha had been relentless about his lack of dating life, going so far as to learn the names of agents and acquaintances she thought might catch his eye.

But she never understood that Steve didn't believe in casual flings or whatever the modern dating concept was. He was a man from another time, one where courting had a clear purpose, and the idea of dating left him uneasy. Maybe he just couldn't shake the insecurity of the scrawny kid from Brooklyn who barely mustered the courage to speak to a girl, let alone charm one.

"You need help setting up your place?" Natasha asked, snapping him out of his thoughts as his bike roared to life.

Steve grinned, slightly grateful she decided to drop the discussion. "I've got a duffel bag of stuff, Nat. I think I can handle it." If he was being honest, he was simply glad he found friends and family, which was more than he could ask for.

She huffed, shaking her head. "At least buy some furniture, Rogers."

"Don't need to. Sam helped me find a furnished place," he countered, his grin widening.

With a quick goodbye, Steve sped off toward his new apartment in Brooklyn.

'This place is a steal,' Sam had told him, a one-bedroom unit with just enough space and a cozy little balcony. Located in a six-story building with five units per floor, Steve's apartment was on the corner, offering a decent view of the street below and, if he leaned far far enough over the railing, a glimpse of Hamilton Park.

Sam, ever resourceful, had pulled some strings with the building's owner, a friend from the VA, to ensure Steve's identity stayed under wraps. Not that most people cared to look twice at the guy in glasses, a baseball cap, and loose clothing. Steve made a point of blending in, and it worked mostly.

By the time he arrived, the neighborhood was bathed in the warm glow of a quiet evening. Steve parked his bike in the designated cellar spot and headed upstairs.

His stomach growled as he stepped into his apartment. The serum gave him an insatiable appetite. Despite the hearty meal he'd had at the compound earlier, he was hungry again.

Making a bowl of soup and a few store-bought dinner rolls that tasted appetizing enough, he stepped out onto the small balcony that connected to the living room while balancing his plate in one hand and a water bottle in another.

Steve's unit was on the 5th floor, and his towering frame made the modest space look smaller, but he was still grateful to have it. On his left, there were two more units.

The view from the balcony stretched over the nearby intersection. A small window beside the balcony door allowed light to stream in. Framing the balcony were sleek black railings, their design simple, providing a clear boundary without obstructing the scenery. Thankfully, the balconies for each apartment were independent, offering a sense of privacy rather than being connected.

Modestly furnished with two petite metal chairs, a small table arranged neatly near the center, and a compact two-seater bench sat at the edge, positioned to take advantage of the view, Steve's balcony was more functional in comparison to his neighbor's, which looked cozy and inviting in the faint glow of series lights and vibrant looking furniture.

Settling into a chair, Steve let out a content sigh. The sounds of the city filtered out, and he felt a rare moment of peace. This was good, Steve thought. Perhaps he could get a larger chair.

The evening air was warm, and as the sky darkened, he finished his meal, settling back in his chair to enjoy the peacefulness of the moment.

He was about to head inside to play some music and sleep off the day's stress when he noticed a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye.

Curiosity piqued, Steve leaned forward, glancing toward the source. You were pulling down the fire escape stairs in the opposite building.

The stairs were only five feet from the ground, but you struggled to grip the first one and had to fight to get your footing on the next. With surprising speed, you managed to steady yourself, though nearly slipping. You quickly hugged the metal stairs, and Steve's heart raced, expecting you to fall at any moment.

You mumbled something, then began climbing.

Steve initially thought you might be up to something…a thief maybe, albeit a beautiful one.

Despite the precariousness of your situation, there was something undeniably intriguing about you. Steve was grateful for his enhanced vision because he almost had a clear view of you. Your silhouette in the dim light revealed a lithe figure, and the determined expression on your face only made him more curious.

Steve instinctively moved closer to the railings, ready to intervene if necessary. Either you were up to trouble or were going to hurt yourself, and it didn't seem like a good idea to let you keep going.

Just as he was about to call out, you jumped onto the balcony and, with a proud little flourish, did a victory lap.

Steve couldn't help but smile, silently chuckling at the sight. You wore shorts and a simple T-shirt with an angry dog saying, 'Bite me,' and a huge band-aid on your left knee. He knew this was going to be etched in his memory.

He decided to wait a moment, intrigued by what you would do next. If you gave him any reason to act, he was ready--but he watched in silence for now.

To his utter shock, you pulled a water jug from somewhere behind you on the balcony filled with plants, and you began watering them, which was when Steve's focus shifted to the balcony opposite him. It was beautiful. The garden was full of various plants and creepers, flourishing vibrant flowers.

Steve leaned forward, utterly captivated. You moved with such care while watering, gently wiping away the remnants of old leaves and tenderly touching the plants. At one point, you even blew a flying kiss to a few of them. And then, were you… talking to them? His surprise deepened, and he instinctively ducked behind the railing, hoping to remain unnoticed as he observed the scene.

After a while, you carefully descended from the fire escape, moving toward the edge. You hesitated, looking down at the ground with a mix of apprehension and determination.

From his vantage point, the height was nothing when he was so used to jumping from the buildings, and you looked adorable, silently praying before jumping.

But you miscalculated and landed hard on your butt with a loud thud.

"Every fucking time," you muttered to yourself, loud enough for Steve to hear.

He couldn't hold back a laugh at the sight of your disgruntled expression, utterly charmed by everything you did.

Steve bit his lip, trying to suppress a laugh. He didn't want to be too loud, though he couldn't help it. Watching you rub your ass and mumble about the pavement, he couldn't help but notice. You had a sexy ass.

What the hell? He was horrified at where his thoughts were going, shaking his head to clear it. No. Focus.

He watched as you crossed the street, disappearing into his building as you entered the main door and out of his view. He stood there, staring straight ahead, his mind caught in a swirl of thoughts about you. A small, uncontrollable smile crept onto his face.

You lived in his building.

He glanced across at the beautiful, tiny garden where you had just been and felt an unexpected warmth bubble up inside him.

Minutes later, he heard shuffling from the balcony next door. His heart raced. He quickly retreated into his apartment, hoping--praying--that it was you. And yes, there you were.

With the light still turned off in his unit, he opened the small window to the balcony beside the door, leaning out slightly, not wanting to be seen.

You had a tube of what looked like ointment in your hand, your smile bright as you gazed at the opposite balcony.

You sat down and removed the band-aid on your knee. Steve winced as you hissed in pain, muttering a string of profanities. He rolled his eyes, tempted to step outside and tell you off for your language, but his thoughts quickly turned to something else. I could totally spank some manners.

His mind immediately snapped back to focus. His thoughts had never jumped in that direction before. Never. He shook it off, blaming it on the fact that he'd not been so attracted to someone so quickly.

He focused on the injury you were tending. What appeared to be a small scrape was a large bruise, and Steve could feel a sharp pang of concern for you as you winced, applying the ointment carefully.

You disappeared inside, leaving him with a sense of disappointment. He peeked out, checking to see if you had gone to bed. To his surprise, you came out again, this time with a book.

Steve watched you for what felt like hours, a smile never leaving his face. He felt content, oddly happy to have moved here, and it was not just because it was a decently prized single-bedroom apartment with a balcony. It was more to do with you being his neighbor.

~

This continued for the next few days, and Steve wasn't proud of it. He had become that guy--watching his neighbor like some sort of creep. But he couldn't help himself. It was therapeutic, in a way, watching you.

You moved with such care. Steve could see you filling a watering can, tending to the plants with such gentleness. There was something almost reverent in the way you whispered to them.

He found himself wanting your attention and the need to know you, hear you talk, feel your touch, and hold him the way you did with the plants so tenderly grew in him every second of the day.

And he needed to hold you as tended as a flower. His flower. His Fiore. Delicate and beautiful.

~

Two weeks had passed, and Steve couldn't stop thinking about you.

With his hectic schedule and sudden missions, he hardly had a fixed schedule. He had to leave early and return late at night, and though he tried to adjust his schedule, it was no use. He had no idea where you worked, either.

'Maybe I could ask Nat for help,' Steve thought, but he quickly dismissed the idea. Getting Nat involved would be a disaster.

It was a catastrophe in his head anyway because the thought of you consumed him, and as the days went by, he decided to act. He'd leave you a note just to see what would happen. A way to break the ice, if nothing else.

He slipped a note under your door.

Was it creepy? Maybe.

Could he help himself? No.

Maybe, just maybe, you'd see it as romantic.

Dear Fiore,

I must say, the garden looks beautiful. Your nightly rescue missions seem to pay off.  Keep up the good work. This is your next-door neighbor.

–Grant

He'd changed the note a dozen times before settling on that, trying to keep it casual and sound cool, not revealing who he really was yet being somewhat truthful.

Steve hadn't felt that anxious outside of missions in his modest existence except when he got the serum, his palms were sweaty, and his nerves were dangling tenuously by a damn thread as he waited for your response.

The whole night, Steve was hyper-focused on every tiny sound around him. He slept in the wee hours of the morning, cursing his enhanced senses, worried sick if you'd knock on his door to tell him off, to mind his business.

The next morning, he found a note from you and finally could breathe again, a smile tugging at his lips when he read it. No one could dampen his mood all day, not the stubborn ass SHIELD secretary, not the stick-up-their-butts agents, and not even Tony calling him Cap, Capsicle or whatever the hell he seemed to come up with.

Hey Grant,

Welcome to the apartment, neighbor! Terry, from the third floor, told me someone had moved next door to me. You know about my secret plant ops! I'm not sure whether to be flattered or annoyed that you were watching me. But thank you? The plants need all the love they can get. I've seen those people bring tons of plants, let them die and replace them with new ones. Can you believe it? I couldn't just leave the plants to die now, can I?  :(

PS: Love the name Fiore! Name's Y/N, BTW.

–Fiore

If you wanna be tagged in my works, add yourself here. <3 Please send me a message if you wanna be removed from the Tag list. :)

Tag list: @nekoannie-chan @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @bitchy-bi-trash @theallknown213 @tripletstephaniescp @rogerscut @greatenthusiasttidalwave @zaraomarrogers @shadowrose13-blog1 @king814318 @yiiiikesmish @steviebbboi @bernelflo @saiyanprincessswanie @blushingrn @looking1016 @jvanilly @mimisweetz @navyhua23 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @shadyloveobjects @alexxavicry @astheskycries @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @patzammit @soelstress @8crazy-freak8 @stellar-solar-flare @stuckysgal @bval-1 @slowlyshycomputer @rogersbarber @avengersfan25 @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @thiquefunlover63 @blackhawkfanatic @notsostrangerthing @awkwardgiraffe726 @iamtamera @pebbles20

[eudaimaniacs]

Imagining old man Logan fucking you after wearing the new dress you bought. It was another typical hot Texas day, and you slipped on the recently purchased yellow plaid dress. The clothing hugged every curve, and it was barely covering your thighs and ass. You knew Logan would immediately bend you over and fuck you in this dress. He was insatiable and still fucked like he was in his 20s.

You had to go to the grocery store and buy some things there. Logan offered to drive you and waited for you to get dressed before going. Logan stood outside at the pick-up truck in his white button-up and tight black slacks. Adding the last touch to your outfit, a strawberry gloss to coat the lips Logan would mess up later. You put on your white sandals before going downstairs to meet him.

As you walked to the passenger's seat, Logan stopped in his tracks and shouted, “You’re not going to the grocery with that outfit.”

You innocently batted your eyes and asked, “What’s wrong with my outfit, Lo?” You held your smirk as you knew Logan was having the urge to fuck you outside. Your thick thighs calling out to him as he wanted to spread your legs, eat your pussy, and fuck you. The dress’ neckline wasn’t deep, but it kept luring Logan to give your tits a hard squeeze.

“Go change, [Y/N]. Can’t have you shopping with that dress on.”

“Why? It’s not causing much of a distraction,” you giggle and open the car door.

Logan sighed, went inside the car, and then started the engine. Since the weather was getting to you, you put your hair in a ponytail. Logan began to drive through the vast Texas road as you sat in an uncomfortable silence. You looked outside the window; however, you felt Logan's wandering eyes focusing more on your dress than the road.

“Stop looking at me, Lo. Focus on your driving,” you naively remarked. Logan was a ticking bomb, and anytime he could fuck you. Maybe in the middle of the hot, empty road, he would. You were slowly spreading your legs and touching your thighs. As you started to feel dizzy, the car abruptly stopped.

Logan growled, “That’s it, princess. You’ve tested me enough.” The older man left the driver’s seat and went to your side. Logan hurriedly opened the door and gripped your hand. You yelped at the roughness he now displayed. He was hungry.

“You’ve teased me enough, princess. The grocery can fucking wait while I fuck your wet, tight pussy,” Logan groaned as he bent you over the car’s hood. He grabbed the hem of your dress to reveal glistening arousal, inviting him. You hear Logan unbuckling his belt and feel his massive length against your thigh.

Without warning, Logan immediately thrust inside you. You whined his name as he endlessly bounced your pussy on his dick. Logan put his two fingers inside your mouth to shut you up.

“Wearing that dress knowing that I would, fuck, do this you, huh? What a naughty girl,” Logan groaned as he kept his fast pace. You moaned at the sensation of his dick fucking your insides. It made you hotter than any other Texas summer would.

Logan removed his fingers as he gripped your hips to fuck you harder. You moaned and whined about how close you were to cumming.

“You cummin’, princess? Come on, cum. Shop at the grocery full of my cum,” Logan growled as he massaged your breasts. You put your hands on the hood of the car to brace for the massive orgasm. Logan delivered the last thrust that made you come undone. You were panting at the bliss of his dick pleasuring you. Your dress was now wrinkled, and his semen dripped on your thighs. Logan pulled out and immediately put on his pants and belt.

You struggled to return to the passenger seat as your legs reeled from Logan’s massive power. The older man chuckled as he saw you scrambled to walk.

“Need some help there, [Y/N]?”

You jumped into Logan’s arms so he could guide you back to the car. You giggle and reply, “Can’t do any grocery shopping with these legs, Lo.” Logan pressed his lips against yours and opened the car door. He carried you with care as you settled in the seat. Logan went to the driver’s side and started the engine.

“Are we still going to the grocery, Logan?”

Logan smirked as he massaged your thighs, “Don’t count on it. I might fuck you again in the store.”

You giggle as the older man turns the vehicle back toward your shared house. The grocery can still wait, but Logan needs to take care of you in that dress. Buying this yellow plaid dress was undoubtedly worth it.

eudaimaniacs - 2024

[alinathinkstoomuch]

BEHAVED FOR SEVEN

pairing: david rossi x reader summary: you’ve got a tradition for every red light stop, but a few cocktails in, you’re thinking it might be due for an upgrade, based on this request. warnings: p in v car sex, age gap, several old man jokes, light praise kink, viagra mention, umm dats it me thinks? word count: 1.3k

✧ masterlist | ✧ alina's 1k bar

Your heels clacked—dragged, really—against the scruffy pavement. The concrete had long given up on clean lines, curving beneath your steps like it was trying to guide you somewhere. Home, maybe. Or, for now, to your boyfriend’s car.

You hadn’t even noticed the sleek, overpriced thing at first, its tinted windows looking wildly out of place on the sticky street littered with drunken aftermath, until it flashed its headlights twice. You perked up like a cat, grinning as Rossi stepped out behind the wheel. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” you teased, voice syrupy as your eyes shamelessly dragged over him, like you hadn’t been texting him your location the entire time. 

“I see you indulged in the fruity cocktails?” he chuckled, his hand already finding your waist.

“You know me,” you hummed, curling into him a little more than strictly necessary. “I only had four… five? Who’s counting?”

“Clearly not you,” he muttered, more amused than disapproving. “Come on, let’s get you in the car.”

He guided you towards the vehicle, though you didn’t exactly make the short distance easy. Your hand kept trailing up and down his chest, while your body leaned in just close enough for your hardened nipples to brush against his side with every other step.

“You always this bossy, or is it just when I’m a little tipsy and wearing heels?” you asked sweetly as he opened the door. 

“You’re impossible.”

“But charming,” you countered eagerly, brushing your fingers along the line of his collar. “And incredibly hot.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t bother arguing. “Get in the car, dolcezza mia.”

You slid in with a smile that promised trouble, letting your dress shift just enough to tease. He closed the door behind you with a heavy exhale and made his way around to the driver’s side, slipping in beside you.

You behaved for all of seven minutes, right until the car stopped at a red light. 

You rested your hand on his thigh, turning slightly in your seat so the streetlight caught the shimmer of your dress, the one he had insisted on buying. “We’re at a red light,” you said softly, tapping a finger against your lips, lipstick smudged from your last drink. “Pay up, handsome.”

His eyes zoned in on your delicate mouth. “You never forget, do you?”

“Tradition is important. And so is kissing me.”

He didn’t need any more prompting. 

Rossi leaned in, one hand still on the wheel, the other cradling your jaw. Usually, you’d work up to tongue, but not tonight. Tonight, you wanted him guessing exactly which cocktails had passed your lips.

So you darted your tongue in, sighing against him as he matched your efforts, deepening the kiss like it had been his idea in the first place. And your hands, so pretty and polished, found their lawful place at his belt, the embossed leather familiar under your fingertips, the buckle practically begging to be undone. Amongst other things. 

“Pull the car over,” you murmured against his mouth.

You were met with a rocky “Seriously?”

“Deadly, baby,” you whispered, palming him through his chinos. “Unless you think it’s past your bedtime. Need to check your blood pressure first? Or should I grab the viagra from the glove box?”

“You’re such a brat, you know that?” 

“Only because you let me be one. Now come on, are you gonna pull this thing over, or am I going to have to do this while you drive? Don’t think Hotch would be too thrilled getting a call this late to bail us out of jail.”

He cursed under his breath, something in Italian you were far too preoccupied to translate. The second the light turned green, he took a sharp left, pulling into a side street where there were—hopefully—no prying eyes. Not that you’d mind an audience.

He barely killed the engine before you flung off your seatbelt, already climbing over the console. Your dress hiked up past your thighs as you slid into his lap, rolling your hips into him under the pretense of getting comfortable.

“Jesus,” he muttered, eyes dragging down to the bare skin of your legs, the hem of your dress bunched obscenely at your waist. “You don’t waste time, do you?”

“Why would I? We’re on a timer, old man.” Your hands were back on his belt buckle now, actually undoing it this time and within seconds, you confirmed that, no, viagra would not be needed on this occasion. You glanced up at him with a smirk. “Huh. Guess you’ve still got it.”

“Glad we’ve established I’m not completely past my prime.”

You huffed a laugh, slipping a hand into his boxers and wrapping your fingers around his cock, pulling him free with an appreciative hum. “Well,” you said airly, “they really don’t make ‘em like they used to.”

His response stalled on the tip of his tongue and transposed into a hiss as you lined him up and dragged his length through your wet folds. Rossi’s hand clamped down on your hip, leaving pretty little bruises to remember this night by in the morning. 

“You keep that up and this is going to be over embarrassingly fast.”

“Oh, well we wouldn’t want that—” you shifted forward just enough to glide his tip over your clit, “—would we?”

He didn’t answer, just inhaled sharply through his nose, knuckles pale where they gripped you. You lowered yourself onto him bit by bit, letting out a shaky breath as your body took him in. His head dropped back against the seat, eyes shutting for a second before he looked back up at you. You weren’t smug anymore. You were too full for that.

“You alright?”

You nodded, hands coming to rest on his shoulders for balance. “Yeah. Just–jesus.”

“That’s about right.” 

His hands began guiding your hips and you eased into his touch, matching his efforts, reveling in the feeling of him being exactly where you’d been craving all night. This wasn’t your usual setup, no candles, no soft sheets, no expensive wine. Sure, the car was expensive, but everything else about this was messy and a little chaotic. Your back rocked against the steering wheel with each thrust, probably leaving leather burn as another admiration piece for later, and your hand kept slipping against the fogged-up window, the cool condensation coating your palm.

“Atta’ girl,” he muttered, so low you almost missed it.

You swallowed hard around the praise. 

“Yeah,” be breathed, “right there.”

You nodded—at nothing, really—too far gone to form a proper thought, the tension blooming low in your stomach, your thighs already starting to shake. Your dress was sticking to your skin in all the worst places, fingers curling tightly in his shirt, doing what they could to keep you upright. But all of those efforts were dismissed the moment his mouth latched onto the curve of your breast, teeth grazing the skin.

“Fuck, baby–I’m c-close,” you gasped, tipping your head back.

You let him take over, feeling your body begin to seize up. And you’d feel bad—if you weren’t seconds from coming—because this, all of this, trying to manoeuvre you in a cramped car definitely couldn’t be good for his back, knees, arms… neck? But you’d save the guilt for tomorrow, let him groan about what a spoiled brat you were while you pressed a heat patch to whatever sore muscle needed it most.

Your body clenched around him, thighs bracketing his as you slowed your pace considerably just as your orgasm hit. Your limbs went limp and loose and all you could feel was Rossi gripping your lower back, pushing you down onto him, as deep as he could go, groaning as he spilled inside you.

You were still slumped against him, chest to chest, catching your breath when he finally spoke. “Well, there goes my spine.”

You laughed, leaning back to try and sort your dress. “We could’ve waited.”

“Could’ve?” He raised his eyebrow at you. “You told me to pull the car over or you’d climb into my lap while I was driving. Not really the same thing, sweetheart.”

“Details,” you shrugged, attempting to smooth your hair. “Think you can go for round two?”

“You want to call an ambulance now, or wait until I’m unconscious on the floor?”

[gguk-n]

Chapter 2- The Rules of Pretending

A+ in Pretend Love (Lando Norris x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Pretending to be a couple. Pretending to be in love for the watching eyes. It's all pretend right. Even having dinner with the parents; it's all pretend right? Why would they like me? Sadly, I'm the only one in love.

Y/N's best friend, Becky, was on the other side of the video call, "every time you say that, my heart skips a beat" Becky sighed. "You think so lowly of me" Y/N groaned. "I'm thinking, whether it is felony or murder. The suspense is killing me" Becky prodded. "Well, I might've agreed to a contract and an NDA" Y/N said building the suspense. "Don't tell me you sold yourself for a visa" Becky sighed. "No, I'm fake dating Lando Norris" Y/N explained. "Who is he? Some old fart?" she quizzed. "No, he's a formula one driver" Y/N whined. "You lost me there" Becky squinted her eyes. "Why would he date you?" she asked. "Who's best friend are you?" Y/N questioned. "Yours obviously but I have to cover all the bases." Becky laughed. "What do you get out of this?" she asked. "Visa renewal and money for my time" Y/N said. "So....You're a sugar baby" Becky nodded her head. "No..." Y/N trailed. "You are. If y'all bonk, charge more. That pussy expensive and smart" Becky pointed out. "This pussy is not. He's kind of hot" Y/N said. "Oh, this won't end well" Becky muttered which Y/N didn't catch.

Lando was kind enough to send Y/N the tickets to Silverstone and explain how they would leave the hotel together. The team had booked their rooms next to each other, so as to not draw too much suspicion.

Y/N was getting changed when she heard a knock on the door. She opened the door; "Hey" she smiled at Lando. "Hi" he smiled back a small blush on his face since she was stood in her towel. "You're in a towel" he pointed out. "We're getting married" she laughed showing her ring, "Not much to hide" she giggled. "I thought it was the room service" she explained. "You would've greeted room service like that" Lando asked shocked. "No, they leave the food at your door" Y/N said squinting her eyes. "We need to leave in 15" Lando said opening the door to leave. "But I'm still hungry" she whined. "I'll buy you something on the way" Lando suggested, closing the door.

Y/N was ready, 5 minutes before they were supposed to leave and the hotel forgot her food. "I think you should complain, I didn't get my food" Y/N said pointing her finger at the ceiling. "I'll do that" Lando laughed. They got something to eat while driving by and Y/N was sat there munching away while nodding along to the songs on the radio, Lando was stealing glances, smiling at the girl next to him.

He parked his car at the paddock. The media ready to snap pictures as he got out. Lando grabbed the extra sunglasses he had got out. As soon as Y/N stepped out of the car, the flashes went off. Lando slipped his shades on her and guided her to McLaren with his hand on her lower back. Y/N's heart was beating, at first she thought it was the bright flashes or the adrenaline but she realised that it was actually Lando's hand on her back. The entire team greeted her warmly when they spotted her.

News had spread like wild fire that Lando had brought a girl with him, another Thursday in their books, but some people were talking about how she had a ring. The McLaren garage was adding fuel to the fire stating Lando brought his fiance.

The media forgot about any race related questions they had and started asking him about the mystery girl he brought. "So, Lando, I've heard you brought your girlfriend?" the interviewer asked tentatively. "Ah, Y/N, my fiance, yes" Lando smirked. "Fiance?" she stammered. "Yes, we got engaged recently. I just couldn't hide my love for her anymore" Lando gloated. "Congratulations" the interviewer was shocked. The rest of media day involved a lot more questions related to Y/N who was spending her time with Lily in the garage. Oscar had come around to the whole fake dating thing and Lily was quite welcoming to say the least. "You're famous, around the paddock" Oscar said returning from the media pen. "Guessed so." Y/N laughed. "There's my gorgeous fiance" Lando shouted wrapping his arms around her. Y/N's eyes fell on the group of men behind him. "Action" Lando whispered pulling away.

"Guys this is Y/N" Lando introduced her, "Y/N my fellow drivers, who I spend most of my time away from you with" Lando laughed. "It's nice to meet you guys." she said. "Can't believe you get to spend all this time with him" she pouted lacing their fingers together. "No no, he's all yours" they laughed before pulling him away. "Okay explain" Carlos cornered Lando. "What?" Lando asked confused. "Where did you produce a girlfriend from?" Max questioned. "I didn't produce any girlfriend" Lando shrugged. "We've been dating for 4 years" Lando said. "While you were sleeping around. She must be a saint then" George chided. "I would've dropped your ass if I was our girlfriend" Alex said shaking his head. "Well, you aren't" Lando humphed. "She's an angel and...and I love her" Lando stated puffing his chest out. "Well, if you do, we don't mind. Just don't you think you're rushing with the proposal" Carlos reasoned. "No, I'm happy" Lando said trying to sell their lie. "If you say so" Max shrugged leading everyone away.

Lando walked in, "What was that?" Y/N whispered. Lando took her to his driver's room. "They are shocked since I have a fiance with my womaniser ways" Lando explained. "Money. That's how" she laughed. Lando laughed along. "You'll meet my childhood friend Max Fewtrell too soon" Lando said grabbing water. "Can't wait" she chirped. "Also, why didn't you let them in on our secret?" she asked. "Other teams wouldn't let their drivers sign NDAs from another team Too much legal hassle Zak said" Lando replied nonchalantly.

Max was also so confused when Lando introduced his fiance who he had been dating for 4 years. Max thought back to all the times and he wasn't sure when he had the time to date anyone when they spent most of the time together either with work or just because but he shrugged it off since Lando said he was happy.

Even though Lando finished second that weekend, everyone's eyes were on him. The media recorded their interaction after he got out of the car and zoomed in when they hugged each other. "We're gonna have to sell it" Lando stated. She nodded and Lando pecked her lips. Later, "Sorry about that" Lando apologised to Y/N. "Hey, if we're gonna tell people we're getting married soon, a peck is nothing" she replied.

The next event they needed to be seen at was a McLaren sponsor's event, the people they were doing this whole charade for. Ever since Y/N had popped up in Lando's life, at least in the media's eyes; every news article about Lando was how he's going to get married soon or how smart his fiance was since she was in a Master's programme at University. People at her University, professor's included wanted to know about Lando when they news spread. This was doing wonders for Lando's image.

Lando called a couple days before the event, "Hey, Y/N. The dress code for the event is formal. Do you have anything? Or do you want to go shopping?" Lando spoke into the phone. "Are you paying?" she joked. "Obviously" Lando replied rolling his eyes but Y/N couldn't see. "I'll pick you up in an hour. This could count as our public date according to the contract" Lando stated waiting for the reply. "Okay" she replied and cut the call to dress up.

Lando showed up almost on time while Y/N rushed to get her stuff and exit her flat. The two of them sat in the car in silence, only breaking it to make small talk.

The shop they stopped at had almost extravagant clothes which made Y/N feel out of place. Lando walked around pointing at a few dresses for the sales rep to take away, "You should choose a few you like too and try them on. We'll buy the one we both can agree on" Lando told her. She quietly scanned the racks, trying not to look at the price tag too closely.

After a couple of dresses, Y/N stepped out in a satin deep green dress with a slit for her left leg to poke out. the dress was held by spaghetti straps. "What do you think? I think I love this" Y/N stated admiring herself in the wall length mirror. Lando's eyes were wide, if this was a cartoon they would be the shape of hearts. He couldn't look away, "You look" the words were stuck in his throat. "Hmm...whether you like it or not, I want this" she smiled brightly looking at him with her puppy eyes. Lando felt like he would melt into a puddle. He just nodded wordlessly and than paid for the dress.

For the event, they showed up together. All the sponsors happy to see Lando and Y/N who was basically an accessory on Lando's arm. "You're gonna have to give your best performance" Lando whispered in her ear. "Don't worry, I was in theatre" she smirked pecking his cheek as they entered the venue. Soon being dragged away by Zak. After all the formalities of meeting with the various sponsors and the soft glances and whispers the two shared to keep up the charade; they were now stood away from the crowd. "Lando, do you get tiny burgers at all these events?" she asked, her eyes glued to the tray of sliders on the waiter's hand. "Not all" he replied before looking where her eyes were wandering off to, "Do you want them?" he asked. "Yes please" she replied eagerly. She picked up a few and pushed one into her mouth, "tiny burgers" she stated with a big grin on her lips while looking at Lando as her cheeks puffed up while she tried to chew it discreetly. "Bring me more" she mumbled with her mouth full. Lando burst out laughing, "Do you love them so much?" he asked. "Yeah, they are tiny burgers" she stated with another mouth full of the slider. "By the way, I'm graduating next month, so you'll have to come since my whole university wants to meet you" she said gulping the slider down. "okay" Lando nodded. "My parents will be around, but you can slip away after the ceremony. You don't need to join the dinner or anything" she explained. Lando just nodded along, pulling her closer by her waist as the waiter with a tray full of champagne almost knocked into her. "Careful, sweetheart" he said while Y/N was flushed against his chest. She felt her heart beating in her chest, loud and clear, Lando's breath hot on her lips. The proximity wasn't helping her. He looked down and when their eyes met, she hiccuped pushing herself away. "Thanks" she mumbled clearly feeling hot.

On the day of the graduation, Lando met up with Y/N's parents who for a reason unknown to her too, introduced him as her fiance as if by reflex. Her dad was skeptical at first but Lando quickly grew on him. "Congratulations, darling" Lando said hugging Y/N and handing the bouquet he got. She took the flowers and put them away. "Mum and Dad, this is Lando, my fiance" she said as her eyes widened. "It's nice to meet you Mr and Mrs Y/L/N" Lando said, turning around to smirk at Y/N. "I didn't know you were dating someone" her mother asked shocked. "Ah yes, we've been together for a while, haha" she tried to laugh it off while her dad stared at him. At the ceremony, Lando was surrounded by everyone wanting to take pictures with him. He was the one cheering the loudest when Y/N was called on stage.

"So, I booked this place for the celebration dinner" Lando told Y/N's parents. Y/N looked at him shocked, "It wouldn't look nice if your fiance ditched you on your graduation day" he whispered pulling her along. The dinner finished without any hitch except for the fact that Y/N thought she would faint with how fast her heart was beating. Lando was no better, he couldn't stop thinking about her when he reached home.

After the graduation, they were seen on dates across the globe enjoying themselves and mandatory race appearances; giving them the opportunity to grow closer. Y/N and Lando were both falling for each other but too scared to tell anyone or each other in the fear of losing what they have.

After returning from another one of their weekend getaways, Y/N sat down next to Becky. "Becky, I'm fucked" she whined. Becky looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue; "I think I'm in love" she pouted. "Saw that coming from a mile away" Becky smirked. "What?" Y/N asked shocked. "Haven't you read romance novels with the fake dating trope, both the main leads are fake dating and they fall in love. At least in the novel you know they'll end up together, I have no clue about real life" she said patting her friend's back. "I'm sorry but with Lando's past, I don't see you in his future" Becky reasoned. "Don't say that" Y/N cried. "I'm being realistic. It's better to move on" she said. "But he's different and those news articles, they are exaggerated. He isn't a complete fuck boy in real life." Y/N reasoned. "Hey I know nothing but his fancy world has no place for people like us" she told her best friend. "Weren't you happy that you would be done with the relationship when your PHD programme started. Weren't you happy it got delayed so that you could focus on your career?" Becky cocked her head. "Yeah I was" Y/N slumped. "But he's different and I'm not sure how I'll let him go" Y/N sighed as tears formed in her eyes.

Back at Lando's place, things weren't any different. Max was gaming on Lando's PC when Lando caught his attention, "I think I'm in love with Y/N" Lando stated. "You better be, since you guys are engaged" Max chided pulling his headphones off. "But like I did a thing" Lando began. "Please don't tell me you cheated on her now" Max begged. "What? NO. WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?" Lando shouted. "Mate I'm talking from experience that when people say that they mean they did something bad. I'm not saying you did it though" Max tried to calm him down. "Actually" Lando sighed, "We aren't actually dating" Lando said. "What?" It was Max's turn to shout. "yeah, we started dating because of my PR image but I think I love her now" Lando groaned. "Tell her" Max said as if it was the easiest thing. "What?" Lando looked at him. "Tell her and if she likes you too, the two of you can actually get married" Max said as if stating the obvious. "I don't think she likes me like that" Lando mumbled.

Tag list- @gamesetmatch-me @seonghwaexile @yootvi @hadesnumber1daughter @khaylin27 @abq654 @plotpal @charlesgirl16 @inarabee @a-beaverhausen @hwalllllllelujah

[bitchesgetriches]

{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about How to Pay off Debt

Understanding debt:

Let’s End This Damaging Misconception About Credit Cards

Season 2, Episode 10: “Which Is Smarter: Getting a Loan? or Saving up to Pay Cash?”

Dafuq Is Interest? And How Does It Work for the Forces of Darkness?

Investing Deathmatch: Paying off Debt vs. Investing in the Stock Market

How to Build Good Credit Without Going Into Debt

Dafuq Is a Down Payment? And Why Do You Need One to Buy Stuff?

It’s More Expensive to Be Poor Than to Be Rich

Making Decisions Under Stress: The Siren Song of Chocolate Cake

How Mental Health Affects Your Finances

Paying off debt:

Kill Your Debt Faster with the Death by a Thousand Cuts Technique

Share My Horror: The World’s Worst Debt Visualization

The Best Way To Pay off Credit Card Debt: From the Snowball To the Avalanche

The Debt-Killing Power of Rounding up Bills

A Dungeonmaster’s Guide to Defeating Debt

How to Pay Hospital Bills When You’re Flat Broke 

Ask the Bitches Pandemic Lightning Round: “What Do I Do If I Can’t Pay My Bills?” 

Slay Your Financial Vampires

Season 4, Episode 3: “My credit card debt is slowly crushing me. Is there any escape from this horrible cycle?” 

Case Study: Held Back by Past Financial Mistakes, Fighting Bad Credit and $90K in Debt 

Student loan debt:

What We Talk About When We Talk About Student Loans

Ask the Bitches: “The Government Put Student Loans in Forbearance. Can I Stop Paying—or Is It a Trap?”

How to Pay for College without Selling Your Soul to the Devil

When (and How) to Try Refinancing or Consolidating Student Loans

Ask the Bitches: I Want to Move Out, but I Can’t Afford It. How Bad Would It Be to Take out Student Loans to Cover It?

Season 4, Episode 4: “I’m $100K in Student Loan Debt and I Think It Should Be Forgiven. Does This Make Me an Entitled Asshole?” 

The 2022 Student Loan Forgiveness FAQ You’ve Been Waiting For

2023 Student Loan Forgiveness Update: The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly 

Our Final Word on Student Loan Forgiveness 

Avoiding debt:

Ask Not How Much You Should Save, Ask How Much You Should Spend 

How to Make Any Financial Decision, No Matter How Tough, with Maximum Swag

Your Yearly Free Medical Care Checklist

Two-Ring Circus 

Status Symbols Are Pointless and Dumb 

Advice I Wish My Parents Gave Me When I Was 16 

On Emergency Fund Remorse… and Bacon Emergencies

Should You Increase Your Salary or Decrease Your Spending? 

Don’t Spend Money on Shit You Don’t Like, Fool

The Magically Frugal Power of Patience

The Only Advice You’ll Ever Need for a Cheap-Ass Wedding 

The Most Impactful Financial Decision I’ve Ever Made… and Why I Don’t Recommend It 

3 Times I Was Damn Grateful for My Emergency Fund (and Side Income) 

Buy Now Pay Later Apps: That Old Predatory Lending by a Crappy New Name 

Credit Card Companies HATE Her! Stay Out of Credit Card Debt With This One Weird Trick 

Ask the Bitches: Should I Get a Loan Even Though I Can Afford To Pay Cash? 

The Bitches vs. debt:

I Paid off My Student Loans Ahead of Schedule. Here’s How.

I Paid off My Student Loans. Now What?

Hurricane Debt Weakens to Tropical Storm Debt, but Experts Warn It’s Still Debt

The Real Story of How I Paid Off My Mortgage Early in 4 Years

Case Study: Swimming Upstream against Unemployment, Exhaustion, and $2,750 a Month in Unproductive Spending 

That’s all for now! We try to update these masterposts periodically, so check back for more in… a couple… months??? Maybe????

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 1 | Bucky

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 ,Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

You were exhausted. Having just returned from covering another incident, you were familiar with the grueling reality of being a journalist in a foreign country.

Limited access compared to local reporters made the job even more challenging. Despite your fatigue, this was the career you had chosen and loved.

When you arrived at your apartment, you noticed a woman waiting for you. She was shorter and bustier than you, with curly, short red hair. The woman approached you with a confident stride.

“Hello. My name is Natasha,” she introduced herself, handing you a business card.

You glanced at the card, noting her affiliation with the Secret Service.

Is this for real?

“Yes. How may I help you?” You asked, confusion evident in your voice as you fumbled with your keys at the doorknob.

“I’m here to bring you back home,” Natasha replied.

“Why?” you asked, still trying to process why a Secret Service agent would be looking for you.

“Because your husband is looking for you,” Natasha said.

You froze, your mind struggling to make sense of what you had just heard. Turning slowly, you looked at Natasha, your face betraying a hint of incredulous amusement. “I’m sorry? You must be mistaken. I’ve been divorced for years.”

“Yes, I know the story,” Natasha said, her tone steady.

“Goodbye then,” you said quickly, attempting to close the door. The mention of your ex-husband was something you had left behind, and you wanted nothing to do with it.

“The divorce was never finalized,” Natasha said firmly.

“What?” you exclaimed, your eyes widening in disbelief. You had signed the documents, or so you thought. You swung the door open wide and saw two more men standing beside Natasha, their presence making it clear you were outnumbered—three to one.

“Seems like you’ve come to understand the situation,” Natasha said. “I’ll explain everything, but for now, you need to follow me.”

What she meant by following her quickly became apparent as the men gently but firmly guided you toward a car.

Inside, you hoped Natasha would provide answers, but she continued making calls, leaving you in a state of growing frustration.

Upon arriving at the airport, you realized it was not a regular one but a private jet facility.

“Let’s go,” Natasha said, gesturing toward the plane’s stairs.

As you climbed aboard, you noticed Natasha following closely behind. An air steward offered you a tray with a cup of jasmine tea. You took a sip, the delicate aroma providing a brief moment of comfort.

“Let me guess, this is his plane?” you asked, your tone tinged with suspicion.

“Yes,” Natasha nodded.

As the plane took off, the tension in the cabin was palpable.

“You still haven’t said a word,” you remarked, trying to break the silence.

“Because of the timing and for precautions,” Natasha said, her expression serious. “You won’t like what I’m going to say.”

“Tell me something I don’t hate more. You know how much I despise my ex-husband and his family,” you snapped, the bitterness clear in your voice. The memories of their interference and disdain for your background still stung deeply.

“Your husband is going to be the candidate for Vice President,” Natasha said, her voice steady despite the gravity of the news.

“...What?” you replied, your voice barely a whisper as you processed the information.

Natasha didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she pulled out a tablet and handed it to you. On the screen, you saw a video of your ex-husband. He stood proudly in a suit, smiling and raising his arms as the crowd erupted in cheers.

The title beneath the video read, “James Barnes: The Youngest Candidate for Vice President.”

You gasped, your disbelief palpable. “This is a joke.”

“Hundreds of supporters don’t think it’s a joke, ma’am,” Natasha replied, her tone matter-of-fact.

“And the reason I’m here is because he needs you,” she continued.

You clenched your fists in anger. The reason for your resentment was clear: his ambition and his family’s obsessive involvement in politics. Their relentless meddling had been one of the key reasons for your separation.

“Turn this plane around,” you demanded, your voice strained. You didn’t understand why, but exhaustion was overtaking you, and your eyes felt heavy.

Natasha glanced at her watch, a hint of sympathy in her gaze. “You must be feeling sleepy.”

You widened your eyes and looked at the tea cup, realizing its effects. You shot Natasha a glare, frustration mixing with fatigue.

“I’m just doing my job, ma’am,” Natasha said, accepting a blanket from the air stewardess.

You wanted to protest, but the energy drained from you. As your vision dimmed, you felt a wave of drowsiness. You closed your eyes and succumbed to sleep.

Natasha watched you as you fell asleep, then carefully draped the blanket over you. She turned to her colleagues with a resolute expression. “Tell him to pick up his wife.”

✈️✈️✈️✈️✈️

You slowly regained consciousness, your head feeling heavy and foggy. As you blinked open your eyes, the reality of your surroundings became clear: you were still on the airplane, but it had stopped moving. The plane had arrived, and you were still groggy from the drugs.

“Welcome home,” a familiar voice said.

You widened your eyes, trying to focus on the figure before you. There, standing with a knowing smile, was your ex-husband, Bucky.

His smile seemed almost out of place given the situation, and you found it impossible to return it. You struggled to sit up, your limbs feeling leaden.

“Of course,” you said, your voice thick with sarcasm. “The last thing I needed was to wake up and see your smug face.”

Bucky’s expression remained impassive. “Careful now. You wouldn’t want to offend the future Vice President.”

“Future Vice President, huh?” you shot back, your irritation flaring. “Is that why you dragged me back here? You need a trophy wife to complete your perfect image?”

“You’re not just a trophy wife,” Bucky said, his tone dripping with condescension. “You’re a crucial part of my public image. A divorce would be a PR disaster.”

“Is that right?” you snapped. “You’re using me as a prop, aren’t you? You couldn’t just leave me alone. Some of us have lives outside your political games.”

“You think this is bad?” Bucky said, frustration seeping into his voice. “Imagine what would happen if the public found out about our separation. It’s all about maintaining appearances.”

“You’re still the same,” you said, your anger flaring.

Bucky’s expression hardened. “Let’s be honest here. You wouldn’t have left if you didn’t think I was using you. But if you think this is a game, you’re wrong. I need you to play along until the election.”

“And if I refuse?” you challenged.

“One year,” Bucky said, his gaze steady. “Until the election is over. Then I’ll give you anything you want. Just play the part of a happy wife until then.”

You knew why he needed you. His political career depended on maintaining a perfect public image. Only a few people were aware of your separation, so you had to pretend to be a happy married couple to avoid public scrutiny.

As you struggled to stand, Bucky stepped forward to help you. His touch was steady but impersonal. Both of you exited the jet, greeted by a throng of press and cameras. The narrative they were fed was clear: the Vice Presidential candidate picking up his sick wife.

With the press closing in, you turned to Bucky and said, “I see you’ve thought this through. Dragging me back here like a prized possession. What’s next? A public appearance where we hold hands and share a tearful reunion?”

Bucky met your gaze with a calm but resolute expression. “It’s not just about appearances. The election is critical, and I need stability. Having you here will help maintain that.”

“You’re the only one I could turn to. I need you,” he said.

The words “I need you” echoed with the same urgency he once used, the very words that had drawn you to him. But now, they felt hollow.

Bucky’s expression remained unchanged. He had no apologies to offer, and the facade of your ‘happy marriage’ had to remain intact.

Join the tag list:

@thezombieprostitute

@thetravelingtyper

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@dexter99

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@tfatwsoldir

@itsteambarnes

@toldyouitwasamelodrama

@thedonswife13

@esposadomd

@buckitostan

@wh0reforbucknasty

@bada-lee-ily

@mrsstuckyboo

@iamasimpingh0e

@loki-laufeyson68

@sidraaaaaaaaa

@aritoocute

@preeyansha

@crazyunsexycool

@anixerz

@mcira

@touchstarvedforbuckybarnes

@pattiemac1

@elizalexwil

@gingersnap-2

@whitexwolfxx310

@marvel-wifey-86

@kumointhesky

@hnnhbananananana

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@nouis-bum

@julvrs

@thebuckybarnesvault

@unaxv

@hzdhrtss

@blackbirdwitch22

@darsynia

@lokislady82

@bonkybarnes106

@kandis-mom

@imrandomstuffsblog

@chimchoom

@wintrsoldrluvr

@greatenthusiasttidalwave

@sebastians-love

@kythefangirl25

@mrsnikstan

@identity2212

@justsebstan

[dazeddo11]

WIP draft

Ellie calls you drunk to pick her up, months after she left you.

Ellie stumbles out of the bar, looking around trying to remember how she walked there. Her eyes catch a bright red phone in a glass booth, your voice worming its way into her head. No I shouldn't... She thought, turning away from the phone. It's so late, she's not even up. What is she is? What if you do and she answers? She won't....she might. Ellie turned on her heels, she knows this is dumb. She would just walk home, but she needs you right now. She misses your face and how you used to laugh at her cheesy jokes, or when she taught you with her guitar.

She leans against the glass wall of the booth, her fingers shaking as she punches in your number. One ring....two... three...fo-

"Hello?" Your groggy voice was heard. Oh god, you actually answered. Ellie stood there for a few seconds, she didn't think this far. She struggles to find words, all of them caught in her throat. She wants to apologize, to tell you it was the worst mistake of her life and she can't sleep without you by her side anymore. Fuck she can't let you hang up, she can't wait too long, what if she says the wrong thing?

"M' sorry, just wanted to hear your voice..." Ellie slurred into the phone.

"Ellie? What time is it? Are you drunk?"

"It's...late, I only had a few drinks."

"God Ellie, where are you?"

"you don't have to come get me baby, im fine."

"No Ellie, you're drunk. Where are you?"

"J's the corner by Dave's Den."

"Stay there, don't move."

You sighed as you hung up, shuffling out of bed. You grab your keys and yawn, what a great way to wake up! You grab a bottle of water from the fridge before you leave, no way are you letting Ellie get sick in your car. You stopped by a local pizza place on the way, might as well since you're already out. You almost forgot how to get to that crummy old bar, that's where you and Ellie met. She had watched you dance all night, couldn't take her eyes off you. She was too nervous to buy you a drink or talk to you, but you spotted her watching you. You thought she was cute and you bought her a drink. You guys hooked up that night, and the rest was is history.

Ellie smiled as she saw your familiar car, stumbling over to wait at the curb. When you stop the car and get out to help her, she raises an arm. "I'm fine! I can do it." She smiled as she almost stumbled backwards. You rolled your eyes and walked over, gently grabbing her upper arm. You guided her to the side as you opened the door, helping her in. You close the door and get back on your side, tossing the water into her lap. She hums and looks up at you. Your face glowed with every lamppost, highlighting all the places she used to flutter kisses, and stroke lovingly. She misses you so so much.

Should I keep writing this or give up?

[trashedsunsets]

Spoiled Honey

***

Summary ~

Small towns need big personalities to compensate. If only overworked ER doctors knew that.

wc ~ 1k

big credit to @candlelitea for the inspo on this 💕

a/n ~

girl idk I’ve never done this before

Retirement.

A beautiful ten letter word. Sparkling. Glimmering. Hopeful.

And something that Michael Robinavitch still can’t find himself committing to yet. Though here he is with his old friend, Jack Abbot on what he’s deemed a pseudo retirement. Airbnbs are still in the realm of what Robby deems sketchy, self endangerment perhaps? Either way he found himself talked into using his plethora of leave days to take an extended three month summer stay. Somewhere rural, real middle of nowhere, Main Street USA, type of place.

Abbot pulls the old pickup truck into the only grocery store in town. No sooner is the car parked before its doors are flung open both men all but stumbling out. Robby’s joints are groaning from what he wishes he could blame entirely on the long drive. A solid clap to his back when he stands to his full height as Abbot starts guiding him, “Come on my friend, let’s see what uh, Delaneys grocer and general store, has to offer huh?”

The door chimes with an old fashioned bell announcing their entrance to the store. Blasts of cool breeze from the air conditioning is a reprieve from the humid summer air. To the left is a wall lined with refrigerated doors, the center is taken up with two long rows of shelves, and the right wall houses the stores the bulk food dispensers. At the front of the right side sits a lone cashier station, behind it someone has their feet propped up on the counter with a worn book covering their face. They don’t move to greet the men only flipping to the next page of the book. However the pup that sits in a fancy plush bed at the foot of the counter raises their head curiously. A very well loved cavalier spaniel huffs softly at their presumed owner as if chastising them for not greeting the customers before settling again.

One of the carts is pulled from the front of the store as the men start perusing the aisles. Robby takes note of the front window display next to the first refrigerator door, a very staged set up of handmade goods. He keeps moving following Abbot with the cart.

“The one with the blue cap is fresher. The ones with the green caps are from yesterday but they’re discounted, 25 percent off. Still good though.” Called from behind the counter is the cashier’s voice, their book now pulled down so their eyes are revealed, watching them. Abbots head whips around to the source of the comment. “Pardon me?”

Nodding and gesturing with the book the cashier speaks again. “The milk you’re holding the Callahans, our dairy suppliers, do different cap colors every day of the week. Rainbow order, blue caps means it’s Friday.” Returned to the fridge is the milk bottle with the green cap exchanged for a blue capped bottle. In thanks Abbot gives a nod back, “good heads up.”

Humming softly the cashier returns to their book as the men continue to shop. Making their way around the store they continue to fill their cart, only soft debates about what products to buy. Eventually they round the store to the bulk section, back in view of the cashier. Who has now abandoned the book completely in favor of watching the men. Robby sneaks a glance at the cashier whose face is now fully revealed to them. A pretty young woman sits with her chin resting on the palm of her hand elbow on the counter. Abbot hasn’t gotten a look at her yet as he reads an ingredient list for granola.

“That stuff is delicious, Marjorie makes it fresh down the road in the bakery twice a week. Family recipe she says…” The cashier glances conspiratorially at the store entrance before leaning closer voice lowering in a mock whisper. “Between you and I though, I think it’s just the recipe from behind the Quaker Oats box that she jazzes up.”

Robby and Abbot glance at each other then back at the cashier. Chatty girl is a shared thought between the glance. Yet Abbot smiles picking up one of the small paper bags starting to fill it with the aforementioned high praised granola. “You seem to know a lot about what goes on here, take it you’re a long time resident?” Jack muses languidly in response. Robby stifles a grin turning his head to the side as he knows his partner is appeasing the young girl.

Undeterred she perks up at the reply seemingly eager to have someone entertaining her quips. “Oh only my entire life, my daddy owns the place figure it’d be rude to run out on him after he so graciously raised me and all.”

Pretty girl… Daddy… Hmm…

Another glance is shared between the newcomers. Men are still men at the end of the day.

Robby clears his throat, “Well you and your dad must be pretty close if you think that way. Most kids can’t wait to get away from their parents.”

Tilting her head back and forth as if considering then giving a relenting nod, “Yeahhh… he’s okay.” She’s grinning despite it, lots of love there obviously.

“Anyway you two must be the ones renting the Talbots place for a few months, just past their ranch but before the woods.” Not a question, but stated as a fact from the cashier.

Brows are raised in surprise from the men before Jack speaks this time. “You must know everything that goes on around here.”

Moving her book off the counter to clear space for groceries as the men near with their full shopping cart. “Mmhm, Mrs. Talbot has been ecstatic since you booked. Called me a bit ago when you got in, I believe the words ‘strapping’ and ‘devilishly handsome’ were used.”

Faintly flushed cheeks adorn both the men’s faces as she starts scanning the chosen products, expertly packing them away into waiting paper bags.

“Oh really?” Robby takes the bait this time.

A nod as she turns the screen around displaying their total awaiting their payment taking them in up close. “Really really, and you know what? Guess her eyesight isn’t that bad after all.”

She holds out a receipt, “Pleasure doing business with you Michael and Jack.”

Masking their surprise but not that well from the perceptive cashier, the bolder of the two, Jack. Turns the charm back on the girl, “And do we get to know your name pretty girl?”

Bright laughter fills the air before she gives her name with an unabashed grin.

Nods from both the men in acknowledgement, “Well that’s certainly one we’ll want to remember.” Robby answers as they collect the hefty paper bags.

“The only one in town can’t be too hard.” Calls the girl as the pair makes their way to the door. They both laugh this time, Jack holds the door turning his head “Well if the first impression wasn’t memorable enough the names gotta stick right?”

It’s her turn to laugh now as the men take their leave. Bells on the door chime again barely disguising what she says next. “What do you think Honeybee? They’re hot right?”

The dog rolls over tummy up unconcerned with her owners appraisals of attractiveness, and more concerned with belly rubs. An over dramatic sigh is heard as the girl slips from her stool to crouch next to the dog giving into the demands scratches. “And they say I’m spoiled.”

[rafesteddy]

Peach Part 1 of 2 (Rafe Cameron Two Shot) +18

+ 18 Minor DNI

CollegeStudent!Rafe x Ward’sSugarBaby!Reader

⭐️ republished ⭐️

+18 Minor DNI

📖 Rafe has a thing for his dad’s sugar baby (reader)

🪄 Warnings: somnophilia (lol), secluded yet public oral, cheating, swearing, degradation, name-calling, pet names, oral (fem. receiving), oral (male receiving), ownership kink, reader’s a sugar baby, rough sex, nipple play, choking, creampie, & cum play, no use of y/n but everyone refers to her as the pet name Peach, softish rafe but he’s kinda mean here and ther

✨ Fuck, she’s arm candy – the perfect little accessory for my old man. And he’s lovin’ every second of the attention he’s pullin’ from every ancient perv here. This has got to be some mind-numbing shit for her. She gives one of the old men a fake giggle, resting her small manicured hand on my dad’s breast pocket, her head softening on his shoulder. With that I feel a little spark in me… something I haven’t felt in a while. Jealousy? Maybe. Not for long at least. I pull my phone out of my pocket, sending an invitation. ✨

2K

Reader’s POV:

“I mean it is a little much for Midsommers, Peach, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Ward gives you a cheeky smile as he unwinds a little more on the dressing room couch, eyes combing over your curves from the reflection of the mirror. “I love dressing you up, princess. Love showing off my little doll around the fellas. Can you blame me? You’re flawless.” He winks and smiles as he lifts his champagne flute to his lips, taking a sip.

“Thank you. I love it,” you praise, running your hands down the delicate black satin, purposely running over the fullness of your breasts, guiding his focus off your eyes. “I think this will go really well with those black Jimmy Choo pumps you bought me.”

Ward smiles and shakes his head ‘no’ as he crosses his strong arms over his chest. “Do you think I’m going let you re-wear a pair of date night heels, baby? We need to buy you somethin’ new. You deserve it. Very sweet for you to be mindful of Daddy’s pocket,” he lauds as he taps the wallet tucked into the pocket of his designer blazer. “That’s just one of the many, many reasons you have my heart, sugar,” Ward mumbles as he rises to his feet, eyes trained on your body. “That, and the fact that I just can’t believe you’re mine,” he mumbles before his lips meet your neck, kissing gently as he works his way to your ear. “I love takin’ care of you.” You tip your head slightly, resting your cheek against his, the two of you matching each other’s gaze in the mirror.

“We look good together, Cameron,” you coo. He wraps his arms around you, kissing your bare shoulder before resting his chin on top.

“I’m the luckiest man in the world, Peach. This looks so pretty on you. You’re stunning. You probably need something just as pretty underneath. Don’t you agree?”

You nuzzle into his cheek, making him chuckle warmly. “You spoil me, daddy… Of course, I agree. Something pretty you can take off me later,” you flirt, just stoking the fire.

“Baby girl…” He gushes, the apples of his cheeks reddening.

“Sorry… I can’t help it.”

“No, baby. I love it. Oh, I booked a hair and nail appointment for you, so I won’t see you until you arrive. I have to be at the Island Club a little early. You can just catch a ride with Rafe. I’ll meet you at the car and we can walk in together. Alright?”

You fix your face, trying your best to seem unfazed by even the mere mention of his son’s name.

Rafe Cameron…

Truthfully, I was about to make my move during parents’ weekend. Then, I laid eyes on Ward. Rafe’s old man… handsome, sweet, thoughtful. It was too hard to pass up the chance to be taken care of. And, taken care of I was. Student loan debt canceled, school-year paid in cash, trips, lavish dinners, anything and everything his little Peach wants she gets. But even with all of that, I can’t help but be drawn to Rafe. I still get butterflies when he passes me on his way to class or when he looks my way in the library.

Even after I got with Ward I’d still try to finagle my way into staying on campus for the weekend so I could hit up a house party or bump into him at the bar. Ward made sure that didn’t happen, pleading with me to spend most of my free time at Tanneyhill. Ward is so sweet when he begs. And, how can I possibly deny the man cutting the checks?

“Peach? Is that okay? He seemed pretty happy about getting to know you a little better,” Ward smiles as he fixes the strap of your gown.

“No, Daddy. It’s perfect.”

You look down at the vanity, watching your phone buzz. Your heart skips a beat as you see his name written across it, causing the usual butterflies to swirl. How would this play out? What would Rafe say?

To the rest of the family I was just some girl; maybe someone Ward picked up at the country club or some overpriced boutique downtown. Sarah and Wheezie were too unbothered to care. How would Rafe take this? Would he even recognize me?

The buzzing stops, pulling you out of your daze as you watch the incoming call shift to missed. Shit. Headlights beam outside as Rafe’s large truck rolls up the drive just as your phone dings. Voicemail – Rafe Cameron You lift the phone to your ear, hearing that familiar voice.

“Uhh… Peach? It’s Ward’s son, Rafe. I’m out front if you’re ready to head out. Don’t know if you need a few more minutes or whatever. Just let me know.” BEEP. The message ends, the eldest Cameron’s tone short and uninterested. Maybe he knows who I am and truly doesn’t care.

You look down at your body, wrapped in a pretty pink robe; dress still hanging up in the corner of Ward’s room. It had been a long day of shopping and pampering, leaving you late. The muffled sound of Rafe’s truck door kickstarts your heart. You unfasten the bow around your waist, letting the material fall off your body and onto a puddle on the floor as you hustle toward your gown.

You step into the number, stumbling slightly; looping the delicate straps over your shoulders before smoothing out the front.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

“Umm… One second, Rafe,” you call.

“Of course.” You hear his deep voice in person, making you suck in a nervous breath. Reaching behind your back you struggle for the zipper, craning your wrist to get it to close. “Uhh… You need some help in there?” Rafe asks, making your eyes widen as you stand in front of the mirror again, looking back at yourself dumbly.

Of course, I want his help. I’m sure if I struggle a little more I could get it to word. But do I want to?

“Rafe,” you call out his name, voice broken with nervousness. “I could use your help.”

Rafe’s POV:

What the actual fuck. I stand behind her, eyes falling down the length of her bare back to her open zipper. Nothing but soft skin and satin; the small zipper resting just below her g-string. I’ve gotta move slowly. No way I could step out from behind her like this. My hard-on pushes against my dress pants, straining the zipper. I let my fingers trail her skin ever so slightly, tugging the material together reluctantly before pulling it closed.

I had no idea it was going to be her when she accepted my offer… Lucky me.

“How are you, sweetheart,” I mumble from behind her, catching her gaze in the mirror.

“Umm… I’m good. How are you?” She asks sweetly.

“Great. I’m fine,” I hum, not moving from my place behind her, ambling a little closer. I can’t fucking help myself. Her lashes flutter at the closeness between the two of us. “Just came from campus.”

“Yeah? Umm… We go to the same school,” she starts, like I wasn’t painfully aware.

“Yeah. Yeah, we do. I know exactly who you are. And you and my dad are-”

“Dating?” She answers, her calm demeanor veiling her shame, just a sliver of it still peeking through. “No. We’re friends? Companions… I-”

I let out a raspy chuckle, saving her the strain as she flounder in front of me, panic painting her beautiful face. “Nah, Peach. I understand,” I smirk. She lifts her eyebrow, letting out an airy laugh herself. “He’s battin’ way out of his league with you. I must say.”

I lean in a little closer, letting the warmth of my voice fan across the column of her neck, making her head fall back slightly as she tilts closer. My large hands rest on her hips, all my primal urges pushing me to bend her over, hands on the glass, dress around her hips, my fat cock fucking in and out as I watch her go absolutely dumb on my dick. But I resist.

Why the fuck are you with Ward? You’re too beautiful… You’re only wasting your time with my old man. What is he givin’ you that I can’t? Money? Is that what you’re after, babydoll?

Good thing I have that too.

“Nice to see you, man,” Kelce smiles as he pulls me in for a half-hug, cutting off my view of her. I pull him to the side, giving me the perfect sightline.

Fuck, she’s arm candy – the perfect little accessory for my old man. And he’s lovin’ every second of the attention he’s pullin’ from every ancient perv here. This has got to be some mind-numbing shit for her. She gives one of the old men a fake giggle, resting her small manicured hand on my dad’s breast pocket, her head softening on his shoulder. With that I feel a little spark in me… something I haven’t felt in a while. Jealousy? Maybe. Not for long at least. I pull my phone out of my pocket, sending an invitation.

She looks down, eyeing her clutch as she feels the rumble of her phone. Her eyes lift, catching mine like she knows exactly what’s to come, without seeing the message at all. I give her a knowing nod as I stroll away.

In a room full of people she knows just where I am. She’s got her eye on me. Atta girl.

Reader’s POV

Well… if there was any question if that text was from Rafe or not that nod answered my question. My excitement leaves a steady pulse between my thighs as I try my best to act normally. He’s trying to get me alone.

“I’m going to run to the restroom,” you whisper in Ward’s ear, kissing him gently on the cheek before wiping some sparkly gloss off his stubble. He gives you a little pat on your bum and a wink.

“Gonna finish up this conversation, Peach, and I’ll find you. M’Kay?” He hums. “15 minutes tops.”

“Of course,” you smile, nodding quickly before excusing yourself, nabbing out your phone as you step toward where Rafe was headed, rushing to read what he had to say.

Holy shit.

Your phone glows as you reread the text messages sent by Rafe wandering down the hallway as you take in each word, considering your options. Am I doing this? Should I turn him down? Let him know he read this all wrong? That he’s overstepping-

“There she is,” you hear his low voice from behind you. His large hand wraps around your arm, tugging you back fast, pulling you into the dark room before slamming the lock shut.

“Rafe?” You gasp just as his lips collide with yours, the two of you running high on adrenaline; teeth clashing, tongues rolling. Your long nails scratch through the hair at the nape of his neck, making him moan into your kiss as he backs you against the wooden door.

“Didn’t even take any convincing to get you back here, baby girl. What do you have to say for yourself?” He mumbles against your lips as he paws for the bottom of your dress, bunching it up higher and higher.

“Rafe. I-”

“Doesn’t fuckin’ matter, princess. You want me. I need you. Bet you’re so fuckin’ wet for me. You gonna let me check?” He rasps, catching your moans between his lips.

“Y-Yeah.”

“Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want,” he taunts as his lips brush yours, his rough fingers grazing the soaked spot on your panties.

“I want you, Rafe. I want your… Fuck. I want your fingers,” you whimper, starting small, knowing full-well he’ll talk you into more; just making yourself feel less guilty about the whole ordeal by asking for the bare minimum like that even matters.

“Just my fingers. Huh?” He teases. Not buying the angelic ruse for a moment. “You don’t want my lips, doll? You don’t need my cock?”

“Shit,” you whine as your legs draw together; his filthy words fillling you ear, drunk off the taste of his lips, just thinking about more. Rafe grips your thighs, opening you up further before pressing his fingers against your sex. Your head falls back, knocking softly against the door as a drawn-out moan tumbles from your lips.

“Did that get you a little excited?” He chuckles, darkly against your neck, licking and nipping at that special spot that has you whimpering like a pathetic slut.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, what?”

“I got excited, Rafe… I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” you whisper.

“Mhmm… Haven’t stopped thinking about me and my fingers?” He bullies as he lifts you into his arms. You wrap yours around his neck, lessening the space between you further, your wetness surely transferring onto his white button-down as your legs wrap around his trim waist.

“Yeah,” you stammer, making Rafe suck his teeth and smile against your mouth.

“Stop trying to be a good girl, princess. I know what you are,” he growls. Your heart falls, breaking slightly as he hits you with the truth; Rafe opening his mouth before you can even defend yourself. “You want money… I want you. I can take care of you in more ways than one. I promise that. Got more money than him. I’m a better fuck. Let me prove it to you, angel. I know you’re a slut for cash alright. So am I. The game sees the game alright? But, you probably need proof… Let me fuck this pretty pussy, ma. Show you how much better off you’ll be with me. I wanna be your daddy. Aight? Not him. Not Ward. Rafe.”

You draw a deep breath, head spinning as he lays you back on the locker room couch. You claw for him, desperate for Rafe’s lips on you again. Rafe rips away your little lace panties, spreading your thighs before eyeing your glistening slit with a hungry groan. “Tell me what you want. You can speak. Can’t you?” He snaps impatiently as you fumble over your words. “Words.”

“You-”

“Fuck it. I can’t wait – need your pussy.”

“S-Shit,” you whine. “Just – Just your fingers Rafe…” He brushes your dripping folds with his thick digits, gathering your essence before stuffing them in his mouth, sucking them clean as his eyes roll back. “Let me eat you, baby. C’mon,” he pleads. You watch him wet his bottom lip, savoring the taste of whatever’s left of you.

“Damnit, Rafe. Your lips too… Fuck. Hurry. Your dad’s meeting me soon.”

“Little now. Little later,” he huffs as his strong arms loop around your thighs, pulling you closer than before, lowering you onto the cushion. Rafe’s gaze stays on yours as his lips latch on your clit, sucking and brushing his tongue from side to side.

He moans against your cunt as his fingers toy with your entrance, teasing you with the chilled ridges of his gold ring. Your thighs tremble, tightening around him. “Enough of that,” he slurs, spreading your legs wider, sucking and finger-fucking you with a little more muscle. “Can’t wait for you to suck my cock. Can’t wait to get you off,“ he mumbles against your heat. You look toward the door, watching a shadow pass underneath. The music blares from behind it. Is it loud enough? You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, holding back your cries of pleasure.

“You taste like heaven, honey,” he pants, bumping his nose against your clit as his tongue dips into your hole. Rafe grabs your legs, slinging them over his broad shoulders, getting even closer. He laps at your pussy, devouring you. Rafe breathes deeply, taking in your scent, eyes shutting softly, the vibration of a moan felt against your cunt. He takes your clit in his mouth sucking hard, making you cry out, spiked heels digging into his strong back as you buck your hips.

“Fuck, Rafe. M’right there,” you blubber. You reach for your dress straps, tugging down the top, letting your tits bounce free. Your hands instantly draw up to your chest, clutching and pushing them together. Rafe bites down on your swollen clit, making you toss your head back. Strangled cries spills from your lips. Your hands drop down, weaving into his blonde fringe giving it a rough tug as you grind your pussy on his face, feeling yourself wavering on the edge of bliss.

“Peach?” You hear Ward call from outside the door, making your eyes double in horror. Rafe doesn’t stop, increasing his pace even. His eyes flick to yours, solidifying the evident. He wants Ward to hear. Your hand clamps over your mouth, muffling your cries. Rafe reaches up, snatching your wrist as your body betrays you, eyes screwing shut at you cum on Rafe’s tongue, white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins.

Rafe works you through your orgasm, waiting until you’re fully relaxed to release you with a panting breath. His mouth greets yours in a passionate kiss, cupping your breasts in his large hands. He pinches and rolls your nipples between his rough fingers before sucking down; trailing sweet kisses causing you to mewl.

“You’re mine,” Rafe whispers, nestling himself into your neck.

“Not… Fuck. Rafe, I’m not.”

“You are. Stop lyin’, princess. You know you are,” he subsists as he matches your eyes. “Lie to me and tell me that wasn’t the best you’ve ever had. I didn’t even use my dick, baby. Imagine what I could do. Huh? I know my old man isn’t doin’ any of this shit better than me.” You fight for air, looking away for a moment before he grabs your chin, demanding your focus. “Fuckin’ talk to me. Use those pretty little words that you’re holdin’ back. Enough with the games. It was painfully easy to get you in here. I know what you want-”

“Rafe… I don’t know-” Your phone vibrates, stealing your attention as well as Rafe’s as you watch back-to-back text messages come in from Ward.

Part 2

[grahstumhurts]

𝙍𝙪𝙜𝙗𝙮 𝙋𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙧! 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙆𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙚𝙮𝙚

𝖧𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌

ᴷᵃᵗˢᵉʸᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʳᵘᵍᵇʸ ᵖˡᵃʸᵉʳ ᵖᵃʳᵗⁿᵉʳ.

CW : Mentions of injuries, Suicide mentions

I decided not to include Yoonchae because these half-shots kinda have darker under tones and i dont exactly feel comfortable writing for her with a darker light.

ᴍᴀɴᴏɴ - ꜰᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ (ʜᴏᴏᴋᴇʀ) - ᴴᵉʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵐᵃⁿ ᴮʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖⁱˣⁱᵉˢ

The first time Manon had ever watched a rugby game had been when Megan took Katseye to Hong Kong to visit her family. Hookers have the largest impact on the scrum, They have to guide the ball out of the scrum and out to the scrum half. This has to be perfected as one wrong move and the ball will be stolen by the other hooker or will be kicked out too hard. This perfectionism is what drew Manon to you as she watched you on the Pitch, Your props pushing the other team back as much as they could as your leg nudged the ball out of the scrum for your teammate to pick up. Your attention to detail isn't only on the pitch but in lots of other aspects of your life, Manon admires your organized schedules. In her usual life, Her room stays messy until she finds the motivation to clean it. With being a hooker comes lots of hip flexibility which she is glad to help with, Stretching and a post practice routine is how you’ve maintained the flexibility to hold your own on the pitch. Though being smaller than Manon, Your muscles are quite a lot larger than hers, Especially in your legs. She loves watching your games, cheering you on at the side lines as you make tackles. She worries a lot about injuries, Physical and mental ones, Pushing you to go to physical therapy and talking therapy when you need it. The one time you don't listen to her and skip your physical therapy appointment, The next game you dislocate your shoulder. One moment you're running, pushing back defenders with a stiff arm, The next you're on the ground with the wind knocked out of you as your shoulder burns with pain. Your writhing on the ground as the referee stops the game to assess you. As you're being taken off the pitch. Manon runs down from the stands, holding your hand as they guide you into the medical room. During your recovery period, You two would just cruise around in Manon’s car, Singing any song that came on in your shared playlist. The contrast between the old rock style music and Manon’s more modern pop music makes the playlist more diverse as the two of you influence each other. 

ꜱᴏᴘʜɪᴀ - ʙᴀᴄᴋ (ꜱᴄʀᴜᴍ ʜᴀʟꜰ) - ᶜʳᵘⁱˢᵉ ᵇʸ ᶠˡᵒʳᵈⁱᵃ ᴳᵉᵒʳᵍⁱᵃ ᴸⁱⁿᵉ

You had grown up as a country kid, Raised in the rural areas doing farm work and playing American Football. Only when you found rugby did you feel like you really belonged in sports, Being the more masculine kind of person only really made you stand out more when you got into high school. Your true passion was always rugby. As a scrum half, you control the ball going into the scrum, which means that you need to be quick on your feet to receive it. Your agility keeps Sophia mesmerized while she watches your games, you navigate the defense with ease. With your play style of unselfish playing, passing off to your teammates whenever the opportunity is open, It's uncommon that you score a try. But whenever you do, Sophia is always there to celebrate after the matter. She’s always there to help you with your pregame and post game routine, Her “Mother-ly” status in Katseye makes it easy for her to fall into the routine of helping you cook food. In return, you make sure to buy her flowers whenever coming home from a game and that she knows that every try you score is for her. On game days, She would always text you “good luck” with a heart emoji. This game had been quite a normal one, when a scrum occurred. You rolled the ball through your teammates legs and picked it up, tossing it to your teammate who were already aligned for your team's attack. The scrum broke off as your Fly half runs up into the defense, passing it back down to you who was running at pace. You quickly pivot, your foot planted for a side step to quickly change directions as you felt a pop in your knee. You immediately felt a searing pain as you collapsed onto the pitch. After you were taken to the hospital by the team medics, You were ambushed by a petrified Sophia who had heard from your teammates that you were at the hospital. After finding out that you had torn your ACL, Sophia promised the doctors she would take care of you. You two spend your time together cooking, going to the beach, and hanging out with the other members. You can't take showers without your country music playlist in the background, as much as Sophia pretends to abhor your music taste she can't deny that slow dancing to Chris Stapleton and Luke Combs is something she misses while she's away during Katseye’s comebacks.

ᴅᴀɴɪᴇʟᴀ - ꜰᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ (ᴘʀᴏᴘ) - ᴶᵃᵖᵃⁿᵉˢᵉ ᴰᵉⁿⁱᵐ ᵇʸ ᴰᵃⁿⁱᵉˡ ᶜᵃᵉˢᵃʳ

Your larger frame intimidated Dani at first. Once she saw past the facade she realized you were more of a gentle giant. Props are the main source of power in a scrum and are majorly important in securing the ball during it. You pour a lot of your energy and anger into rugby as its your way of “destressing” in a way, The physicality of the sport to you is what drew you into it. From the moment you played your first match you knew you were made to play rugby, Especially growing up in a rugby household. Your family watched the 7s yearly back home in LA, so it felt right when you joined the USA 7s team and made your debut in LA where Dani first met you. She was enamored by your soft spoken “gentlewoman” attitude, Her more extraverted self felt drawn to your down to earth personality. Dani definitely tries to tackle you any chance she gets when you're standing near the couch in the Katseye house. The other members sigh as you two play fight, They have to pull you two off each other when it goes on for at least two minutes. Your on pitch demeanor in contrast to your off-pitch personality is like watching two different people in the same body. On pitch you lead by example, making the tough tackles that bring down the offense, clearing space for your backs to gain momentum, and following the plays of your scrum half. Off pitch, you're a tired teddy bear, Cuddling with Dani any free moment. Whining and pouting when you have to move, You're her muscle when she needs to move some furniture or when she's out and about to scare some pushy guy off. Only when you come home from a tough match, to see her already sitting on your apartment's couch. She watches you limp to the bedroom and hop into the shower. She doesn't prod, or push. She lets you cool off in the shower, allowing you to come to her when the time is right. When you’ve cooled off, you collapse into her arms. A mess of limbs and curls wrapped around you as you vent about your match. What had occurred was when you were pushing through the scrum, your quad started to burn as you broke out and off your hooker. You tried to brush it off, running head first into the offense. Trying to clear off some players for your team. Your coach had noticed the slight limp in your run and immediately pulled you off, Your pitch side medic told you that you had acquired a muscle strain in your hip flexor. Dani consoled you, scratching your scalp in all the right places, Kissing your forehead when you paused sentences. Showing she cared, without saying anything. The next morning she had already texted Sophia to ask for advice on what to do, and had made up her mind that she was going to take you to your physio appointment. She held your hand as you were poked with needles and wires, Instruments and stretches you were made to take home. She set up a checklist on your phone that linked to her phone as well to make sure you were doing your necessary treatments and exercises. She didn't need to say anything to you, but she took care of you. You two bond over your shared taste in RnB, You two laze in bed when both of you have a day off. Just listening to your shared playlists. Back hugs while she cooks you two brunch is what makes these off days special for her. 

ʟᴀʀᴀ- ʙᴀᴄᴋ (ᴡɪɴɢᴇʀ) - ² ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ᴮʸ ᵀᵃᵗᵉ ᴹᶜʳᵃᵉ

Score the most tries, is what you’ve been told throughout your professional career. You’ve held trophies of being the tournament MVP, But nothing could still fill that void in your heart. You longed for something deeper than tries and conversions. That something was Lara Raj, She came into your life when you least expected it. While you were in recovery from a Suicide attempt, She marched straight into your life and brought color back into a once gray field. The love for the sport you’d been playing most of your life had come back as Lara spread the different shades of Crimson red, Coral orange, Cobalt blue, Periwinkle purple, Sage green, back into your life. You two had met through an unexpected mutual, Her high school friend had coincidentally been also your college friend. From the moment you two locked eyes you hit it off, You're as obsessed with her as she is with you, The amount of admiration the both of you have for each other can be felt in the spaces you share. Her side of the shared bedroom in the Katseye is filled with photos of you two, faces flushed, Cheek kisses, Lipstick stains. Your hoodies intermix in her regular rotation of pajamas. Your apartment holds her favorite flowers in vases she specifically bought for you, Her hair ties on the nightstand next to the bed you two share. Matching phone lockscreens, all the couple stuff that makes people automatically know how much she means to you. You listen to her music when she needs a second ear, play the drums when she just “Needs” the acoustic drum sounds. She sits on your lap as she writes lyrics in her book, while you scroll lazily on your phone. But on pitch, your cleats have an engraved L.R in a heart on the side. She knows every try you score and convert is for her, In a way that is unique to the both of you. The field is your second home in a way, You sprint through the defense using all the energy you can to make it through on your feet. The ball safely tucked under your arm as you weave through defenders that you push off strongly to reach the try line. You dive onto the ground as the line is pushed behind your feet, The ball roughly jammed into the pitch as another 5 points is awarded for your efforts. But you know when you walk off that pitch and into the tunnel, a bigger reward awaits you with her arms open, Her hair smelling of cinnamon and coconut.

ᴍᴇɢᴀɴ - ꜰᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ (ᴘʀᴏᴘ) - ˢᵘᵐᵐᵉʳ ᴮʸ ᴷᵉˢʰⁱ

You grew up in the coastal city of Hong Kong, Yours and Megan's parents had actually been friends in college before your parents decided to move back to Hong Kong to have kids. You had been enamored by the beauty of rugby from a young age, its ruthless physicality and brute strength. When you had the opportunity to join the Hong Kong 7s team, you immediately accepted. Megan at the time had just debuted with Katseye, Her press conferences and performances had taken over her life. By the time the 2025 7s season rolled around you had been promoted to a starter. Katseye’s activities had died off and the members went their separate ways for a break, Megan had gone home to Hawaii. Your parents had invited her and her family to come to Hong Kong to watch you play, something they could not pass up since your parents and her parents had only seen each other once since they had moved. The way you hustled on the pitch, A smile permanently plastered on your face, had a warming feeling for Megan. She had seen clips, Heard her parents talk about your amazing skills, But to see them in person. That was different. It was as if she could feel the excitement and happiness for the sport you loved off your body as you sprinted up and down. A reunion dinner for both families, The Skiendiel's and L/n’s, had been long overdue. You and Megan’s personalities matched each other, Bouncing off lame brain rot jokes like a ping pong game. The Katseye members refer to your relationship as a Golden retriever and an Orange cat. You two clicked like two Lego pieces, as if you were made for each other in a sweet, comforting, kind of way. She tries to teach you how to dance, watching you flail your limbs trying to copy her instructions. While you try to teach her how to spin pass a rugby ball, Unsuccessful but it was worth a try. She's the rock in your life, Keeping you grounded when you float off into imaginary land. On the pitch, your largeness had earned you the position of Prop. You harness your brute strength each time a scrum is called, Pushing against the shoulders of the opposing team. Scrums had to be your favorite moments each game, Making jokes with your other teammates and even sometimes the other team. Your goofiness is known worldwide on and off the field,  You pour your heart into what you love and that was what drew her to you. Your personality on the pitch and off the pitch had been a siren song of sorts to her. When your already short season had been cut even shorter due to a serious knee dislocation, it had taken a large toll on you. After your surgery, you had already decided on visiting Megan in the US. She had come to the airport, in her disguise, waiting patiently. Sign in hand as you were wheeled to the exit by staff. The weeks you two spent together let your relationship flourish, She drove you to your appointments, While you cooked her dishes from home to reminisce. The Kats were grateful she had someone who could “Match her freak”, In the sense that you two complement each other in every way.