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cinnamorollcrybaby · 1 month ago

Note

begging on my knees, ripping my skin off for shiu kong ANYTHING <3 ily cinna LMAOO

Bullet for my Assassin

Tags: Shiu x fem!Reader, Toji x fem!Reader, mfm, why choose, kidnapping, murder, dead dove, dark romance plot, you're being used for ransom, Toji and Shiu are morally black in this one.

Synopsis: Your dad is a wealthy CEO of Japan, but he hates you because you were born a girl instead of a boy. Toji and Shiu kidnap you and hold you ransom for money. Things ensue???

An: Hiiiii nepo baby, i know you said shiu kong anything. I hope you don’t mind Toji making an appearance. Also, HAPPY (so very late; i'm so sorry.) BIRTHDAY!!! Look, i gotta be honest. I ran out of inspiration for this fic, so I'm posting it, hoping it will revitalize some of that inspiration for a part two. That being said, let me know if I should make a part two.

Being the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Japan was actually a death sentence. Since you didn’t have a dick between your legs, you’re obviously less than in the world of business.

Your dad pressured your mom into giving him children to inherit the company, but he didn’t want children. He wanted men to inherit the company. You were just a lowly girl!! How were you supposed to manage a company? Girls clearly didn’t know anything about finance or business. (can you smell my sarcasm)

Ruthless and cold, your father never showed you nor your mother an ounce of love. In fact, he had tried multiple avenues to try and prove that you weren’t his kid. Unfortunately for both of you, you share 23 of your dad’s chromosomes.

His anger was growing worse towards you as you got older and developed your own personality. Everything you did was wrong in his eyes. Even though the company was specifically suppose to go to his kid, your father had been toying with the idea of selling out just so you couldn’t ruin what he had built.

Not that you cared, you thought about how if you were the CEO, you’d burn the company to the ground just to spite his wishes. You’d love to see him turn over in his grave as he watched his baby burn because of his daughter.

You basically lived alone. Your mother had passed a couple of years ago due to strange circumstances, and your father never bothered to come home. There would be no point to socializing with the likes of you.

Your mother’s early death rocked you to your core. For your entire childhood, she was weary and exhausted. Your father directed his anger on her, and she couldn’t help but subconsciously put the blame on you. If only you were a boy.

She did a good job of not showing her true thoughts. She wasn’t a doting or nurturing, but she was there for you. She never raised a hand to you, never raised her voice with you, never called you mean names. That was all you could ask for whenever your dad was so vile towards you. While she wasn’t close with you, she was still your mom, and she was the closest thing to parental guidance that you had. Her death was the beginning of your lonely existence.

The mansion was like a prison for you. Since your dad was so prominent in social media, you had an image to uphold, and he didn’t want you ruining that image. So, he didn’t even give you the chance to interact with anyone outside of the house. The only way for you to escape his claws was to either get married or die, and getting married was impossible when you weren’t allowed to interact with anyone on the outside.

You preferred being alone. The empty quiet feelings was better than the anxiety you got when your father was home. He’d always start yelling at the waitstaff about something so minuscule. He harbored so much anger that the house practically turned sour when he came home.

What was the saying? If you grow up with an angry man in your house, there will always be an angry man in your house. The thought of marrying someone like your dad made you want to gouge your eyes out with a butter knife. Being alone was the best option.

Besides, the waitstaff was nice. They cared for you… albeit from a distance, but they cared. It was known that you received the worst of your father’s anger, so they empathized with you.

The house was particularly quiet late one evening. It wasn’t the normal quiet that gave you a sense of peace. It was eerily quiet, giving you a sense of dread. The sounds of hushed talking and dishes clattering was the usual background noise in the house from the waitstaff, but there was nothing right now… as if it truly was just you in the house.

The alarms would’ve went off if someone entered. Not to mention there’s security posted around the perimeter… unless your father was the reason that it was so quiet… Surely, it was just him. Maybe he sent the waitstaff home for the day?

You carefully slipped out of bed, pulling a robe on over your silk pajamas. Being a CEO’s daughter wasn’t all bad. You received luxury items in exchange for feeling void of any real human connection and your dad’s hatred!

Briefly taking a moment to wonder if you were being one of those dumb characters from a scary movie, you quickly pushed those thoughts out of your head. Your life was more of a tragedy than a horror movie.

Slowly stepping out of your room, the click of your door latching filled the space, and you held your breath for just a moment. Nothing.

You soundlessly walked down the hall. Since you were on the second floor, there was a landing where you could look over the rails to see the bottom floor.

Nothing. No- is that a foot? Is someone lying on the ground. You leaned farther over the wooden railing to see. You were surely mistaken, right? Who was lying on the floor?

The feeling of a hand pressing down on the back of your head. Fingers entangled with your hair as the unknown man gripped you from behind. His other hand was steady on your hip. You were being dangled over the side of the railing by a stranger.

Immediately, you started to thrash against his hold, panicking as you did so. “Let me go!�� You shouted, kicking your feet out from behind you to try to get away from him.

Turning your head as much as his hand would allow, you only caught the glimpse of a scar on the man’s lip. He shot you a grin before pushing your body closer to the edge, almost making you topple right over the railing.

“Yeah, princess? Want me to let you go?” His voice was husky, teasing almost. It had a raspy edge to it that sent shivers up your spine as you were now trying to push back against him to get away from the edge.

Your eyes were looking at the drop, wondering if it was better to just fall than to face whatever this man was going to do you. Somethings were worse than death…

You switched tactics, pulling away from him instead of trying to get away from the rail. You were going to topple right over it. A growl of frustration left his lips as he easily yanked you away from the railing. Your body collided with his brick wall of a warm chest.

Taking a chance to look up at him, you immediately regretted it. The perpetrator had black hair that came over his forehead and pretty green eyes that you could get lost in. His lips seemed to permanently house a cocky smirk, and fuck, he was built.

“You must have a death wish, brat.” He scowled at you as if he wasn’t the one who dangled you so close to the edge.

Not bothering to answer his taunts, you quickly started to fight against him, beating against his chest with your hands, trying to wriggle from his grasp. He was massive. You were sure that none of your blows were doing anything to him.

Without any difficulty, the hulk-sized man slung you over his shoulder, securing an arm around your frame. He didn’t even flinch or bat an eye each time you hit him. Your fists did little to his toned back.

Not able to fight your way out, you use your next best defense tool: your voice. “Let me go!” You shrieked as loud as possible. “Let me go! Somebody help!” Tears coated your eyes, and your voice went hoarse from yelling.

“Let me goo~ Somebody help mee~” The man mocked you in an obscene high-pitched tone with a laugh. He had done his homework. Even if you screamed, no one would be coming to save you right now.

Every staff member in the house was deceased, and thank god your dear old dad is so paranoid that he put his mansion in the literal middle of nowhere. There were no neighbors that’d hear you either.

You were completely and utterly alone with the man who was kidnapping you. A deep sense of dread and hopelessness filled your stomach, and you continued to cry — weakly begging for anyone to help you.

The man toned you out rather easily as he carried you down the massive flight of stairs. He used his free hand to flip open a burner phone, and he dialed a number before talking.

“The security system is still down?” His gruff, no-nonsense voice returned to him as if he wasn’t just making fun of you moments prior.

Even though you knew it was likely one of his associates on the phone, you screamed for help. Hot tears coated your cheeks as your voice strained.

A firm smack to your ass jolted you, and your voice caught in your throat. Did your kidnapper really just spank you for misbehaving?

“The girl isn’t hurt. She’s just being dramatic. I’m heading to the pickup spot.” He didn’t let the person on the other side answer before he clopped the flip phone shut, effectively ending the call.

“Gonna get me in trouble acting like that, girl.” The man tsked his tongue, and he continued to effortlessly carry you around to the back entrance of the house.

You finally caught a glimpse of your poor staff members. Your heart lurched in your chest. They had families and lives. Now, they were dead on your floor because of this man.

The man didn’t say another word as you cried. He kept his one arm firmly wrapped around you as he so casually carried you out of the house. The security system and the guards had already been dealt with.

Soon, you unceremoniously shoved into the back of a black tinted car. You struggled as much as you could, kicking and scratching. You even tried to bite the man as he tied your arms behind your back.

“Keep fighting. I’ll hogtie and gag your ass.” He threatened lowly, becoming sick of this game with you. He never quite understood why people fought so hard against him when he clearly held the upper hand. It was useless.

Letting out a small sob, you laid against the backseat of the car. The leather interior felt cold and ruthless as your tears fell from your eyes.

“Come on, Toji. We don’t have all day.” The driver reprimanded as if the man was simply buckling in a toddler and not kidnapping a grown woman.

You flinched from the sound of the driver’s voice. You had been so focused on fighting against the Toji guy that you didn’t even realize there was another man idly sitting in the front seat, puffing on a cigar.

Toji tied your ankles together, but he didn’t hogtie you thankfully. Without saying another word, he slammed the door shut before getting into the passenger side seat.

You felt your heart drop as the car started to move. You had an inkling… you’d never see that mansion again. You just knew it. Even though you hated the very frame that house sat on, you longed for the empty feeling of sitting inside. You’d take the void of living in a loveless home over being taken by two men.

Your stomach churned, and suddenly, you felt ill as you faced the grave circumstances. Bile raised in your throat, and your hands struggled against the ropes that Toji had bound you with. Panic set in. You were going to choke on your vomit while you laid face down in it.

“There she goes.” Toji muttered, tone laced with annoyance before he reached back and pulled your arm so your mouth was hanging over the back seat. You threw up safely into the floor.

“I just got this car detailed.” The driver groaned as he took another puff from his cigar.

“It happens every time without fail. Ya should start puttin’ puppy pads back there or something.” Toji responded as his arm was still reached back, bracing your body.

“Yeah, because that’s not suspicious at all.” The driver responded with a sarcastic tone. It was clear that this wasn’t their first encounter with kidnapping someone. You didn’t even want to think about the implications of that.

Your adrenaline was dropping off, and while you knew you should try and stay awake — try to map out the turns the car made, you were exhausted after emptying your stomach contents into the floor.

Your head rested against the cool leather seats, and a moment later, you were out.

“It’s like fuckin’ clockwork.” Toji commented as he saw you dozing off in the backseat.

“Let me hogtie you and throw you into the back of a car, and we’ll see if you don’t throw up and pass out.” The driver grinned over at him.

“Kinky.” Was all the man responded with.

*** *** ***

The next time you awoke you were bound to a chair in a surprisingly well-lit room. It appeared to be a bedroom. Judging by the overly bland decor, you assumed this was an Airbnb or a hotel. There was no way they could’ve hauled your sleeping body into a hotel without being noticed, so it was definitely an Airbnb. Taking in your surroundings, you flinched as you finally caught a glimpse of the two men standing in your peripheral. They were silently watching you.

“So nice of you to join us, sleeping beauty.” Toji mocked with an easy grin, the scar on his lip flexing upwards. If he wasn’t your kidnapper, you would’ve classified him to be rather handsome in a very rugged sense. He just looked like the type of man who could get the job done.

“I thought we accidentally killed ya.” The driver who was now not driving remarked.

You had to be smarter with your words this time. There was no point in begging to be set free. They had already taken you to god knows where, killed your entire staff, and bound you to a chair. There was no going back for them.

“My dad has money. That’s what you’re after, right?” You bargained, taking a stab in the dark. This didn’t feel like human trafficking. This felt like a hostage, ransom situation. Little did they know, your dad probably wasn’t going to pay a single penny to get you back.

“Clever girl.” The driver grinned. He was also another handsome man with chestnut brown hair and a mustache. He seemed much more calmer than Toji, and he had a capable energy to him. You could tell that he was definitely the ringleader. Toji was simply the muscle behind the operation.

The driver took three slow, calculated steps towards you. He was still out of reach as he crouched down to be at your level. His eyes were dark brown as he carefully exam you.

“If you’re good, I’ll explain how this is gonna work.” The man said lowly. His voice was deeper than Toji’s but not as gravely or hardened. He had a voice fit for radio.

You slowly nodded, tears already sliding down your cheeks out of sheer fear.

“Good girl. Keep that same energy for the camera.” The man purred before you directed your attention to Toji. He was setting up a tripod with a nice Canon camera set up on it. He flicked the lights off, but it wouldn’t be too dark for anyone to see.

Your body started to react before you could even fully process what was going on. You rocked back and forth in your chair while crying, trying to fight against the restraints. Toji clicked the record button, and he pulled two black balaclavas out of his pocket. Throwing one at the other man and slipping one on for himself. Their identities besides their eyes were completely concealed.

The nameless man tied a piece of cloth that worked as a gag around your mouth, and you sobbed harder. This could go so many ways, and you didn’t want to consider all the possibilities. Your mind thinking up the most depraved acts.

Then, the nameless man held a voice distorter up to his mouth, like the ones that were used in horror films. Toji suddenly grabbed your hair tightly with his oversized fist, and he made you look directly into the camera.

The nameless man started the video off by addressing your dad by his full name. “We have your daughter.” He plainly stated, going silent so one of your muffled sobs could clearly he heard.

He went on a spill about the ransom and how it was going to work. They were demanding 10 million dollars to be paid in a week. It had to be paid in person by your dad, or they would mail him your body parts.

You choked out sobs and tried to scream. You were going to die. There was no way you were going to make it out of this situation alive.

Toji’s thumb ever so gently caressed the back of your head. He was still holding your hair tightly, making you look directly into the camera, but he was subtly rubbing small circled into your scalp as if he was trying to subtly soothe you.

Whatever his intent was, it wasn’t working. You strained against the rope and the gag. You cried and tried to beg your way out of this. Finally, the nameless man showed the camera a timer. It was set for 168 hours, and it was steadily dwindling down.

Then, he stopped the recording ominously. “Can’t believe we got that on the first try.” He muttered with a laugh before pulling off his balaclava. He then flicked back on the lights.

You looked at both of the men in a confused manner. They were both so calm and casual after recording a literal ransom video. It was eerie. You hated this feeling of distrust and uneasiness that settled into the pit of your stomach.

Toji ripped off his balaclava, and he promptly untied the gag before picking up the camera off the tripod and walking away.

“Alright doll, you did so good.” The nameless man praised as he crouched back down to be at your level. “I guess that means I gotta tell you how things are gonna work now, huh?”

A sheepish nod later, and he continues, "I'm Shiu, and you already know the other old fucker's name is Toji." He starts, gesturing to Toji who was lazily typing away at a computer with a death glare.

"We're not gonna hurt ya until you give us a reason to. You just gotta be good for us and do as we say, and this will be a breeze." Shiu's tone was steady and lighthearted as if he was talking about the itinerary to a vacation and not your kidnapping.

Tears clouded your vision. Your captors seemed to have thought of all the details but one. Your father couldn't give less of a fuck about you, and he likely wasn't going to pay a dime for your safe return.

"And when my dad doesn't pay you two, then what? You two kill me and mail my body off so you can move onto the next mogul's daughter?" You asked -- tone full of resentment.

"We're not amateurs, darlin'." Shiu grins at you, boldly using his thumb to wipe away a few stray tears from your cheeks. You're still bound, so you're at his whim right now. "Toji's workin' on releasing that video publicly. How could the wealthiest CEO of Japan get away with not paying to have his daughter back safely?"

You pursed your lips together, trying to think rationally. None of this felt real. Your heart stuttered in your chest. Would your dad pay to get you back if he risked ruining his reputation?

If he ruined his reputation, companies would pull their stocks and tank his company. It would be hard for him to form partnerships because other companies wouldn’t want to be associated with him. His perfectly curated baby would come crashing down.

He would have to pay to get you back.

Noticing the gears turning in your head, Shiu patted your hair gently with his oversized palm. “We also got a few other tricks up our sleeve. We didn’t do this on a spur of the moment decision, darling.”

They weren’t two petty criminals looking to make it big. These two men were the real deal. They had the knowledge and precision that it took to commit serious crimes. This probably wasn’t even their first ransom situation.

“Glad to know you plotted my kidnapping perfectly.” You muttered in a self-deprecating tone.

Shiu gave another chuckle as his hand stayed on your head. His touch was warm and unwavering. It had been years since someone showed you affection so casually.

“I’d say you’re in good hands, but…” He grinned at you, ruffling your hair before removing his hand. “You’re in capable hands.” He said before he slowly walked around behind you. “Be honest, darling. If I untie you, are you going to try to run?”

Your eyes lingered on the door of the Airbnb. Would you even make it far if you did run? Would it be worth being tied down for even longer? Your eyes wandered to Toji, who was sat strategically near the door. His gaze was still on the laptop, but you could tell that he could easily catch you if given the chance.

Shiu laughed as he could see the inner turmoil on your face. You really wore your emotions on your sleeve, not hiding that you were weighing the option of running. “You wanna see what’ll happen? Try it, princess.” He dared as his fingers worked to loosen the knots around your hands.

Your body was achy from the precarious position of being tied to the chair. You instinctively stretched, feeling your stiff muscles protest.

You looked back up at Shiu, registering that he was offering you to run. “Go ahead. Go.” He said as he nodded towards the door.

“If you make me run, I’m taking it out on your ass.” Toji grumbled from his position near the door. His green eyes were now glaring at you.

Against your better judgement, you ran. You had to run, even if it was clearly a setup. If you didn't try to get away, then someone would say that you wanted this to happen. You wanted to be kidnapped from your prison.

You barely made it to the door and swung it open before two strong arms wrapped around your midsection, hauling you up as if you weighed nothing.

"Fucking brat." Toji's voice rumbled in your ear as he lifted your body up, pressing your backside against his chest as he kicked the door shut.

Shiu chuckled as he made sure to lock it back. He really just enticed you to run to piss Toji off. He had to keep things interesting after all.

A grunt passed your lips as you were unceremoniously slung onto the plush bed in the room. You tried to kick and fight your way out of Toji's hold, but his hands expertly held you down and forced your arms above your head. You squeezed your eyes shut.

Here it comes... the part where you wish they would've just killed you...

The sound of metal jingling caught your attention, and you hesitantly opened your eyes to see Toji handcuffing you down to the headboard.

As soon as one of your wrists were cuffed and bound, Toji got up off of you. "Until you can learn how to behave and not be stupid." He muttered as he turned his back to you and went back to sit down.

Well, that wasn't what you were expecting.

"Technically-" You spoke up, looking between Toji and Shiu as they watched you with amused eyes. "I was behaving since he told me to run." You pointed out, nodding your head towards Shiu.

"And I told you what would happen if you did run. You're lucky I haven't bent you over my knee yet." Toji countered, crossing his arms over his chest with a lopsided grin.

"Yet-?"

"I haven't decided if I'm going to do it or not, but your smart mouth is pushing me, brat."

You swallow thickly, realizing what you were truly dealing with here. Your eyes leave Toji's figure, and you look up towards the handcuff chaining you to the bed.

You were kidnapped from one prison and brought to another, and yet, a strange voice in the back of your head is telling you that your kidnappers have better intentions with you than your own dad.

"Don't listen to him," Shiu's low voice rumbled, breaking your line of thought. "He's all bark and rarely any bite,"

"He killed all of my staff members," you retort, staring at Shiu with furrowed eyebrows. How could he act like Toji was anything less than a killing machine?

"Touché," was all Shiu responded with as he looked over at you with a relaxed grin.

Toji was back to lounging as he tilted his head back. His adams apple bobbing as he closed his eyes. He wasn't really going to sleep next to the door, was he?

Shiu had walked off out of sight, and you could hear him responding to a phone call.

Moving around on the bed, you figured you may as well get comfortable while you're trapped.

597 notes · View notes

checkeredflagggs · 2 months ago

Text

Winner’s Circle

pairing: max verstappen x driver!reader x charles leclerc

summary: max, charles, and y/n are the stars of redbull, ferrari, and aston martin (and their relationship is the star of the internet)

a/n: sorry Lance but bye bye! Fem!Reader is now driving for aston martin . This takes place in 2025 and certain predictions I make are NOT how I think the season will go

a/n2: this was requested and I really liked it! It was a good jump into poly fics which is something I’d like to write more off — nony I hope you like it! Sorry it took awhile…

a/n3: I love how Liam got a seat and immediately started making enemies 🤣 so I kept that tradition

y/n_am_racing

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, and 2,833,184 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1

y/n_am_racing: mine. All mine. Stay mad!

view all comments

user1: damn girl…

↳user2: girls got game! liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1

user3: dream threesome right there!

↳user4: which ones?

↳user3: yes liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, y/n_am_racing

↳user4: understandable. Continue on

oscarpiastri: congrats dad and dad and mom

↳y/n_am_racing: thanks osc

↳maxverstappen1: 👍🏻

↳oscarpiastri: thrilling conversation right there liked by charles_leclerc

↳charles_leclerc: thank you son!

olliebearman: new parents? (Congratulations!)

↳maxverstappen1: how many children do you have? Because I feel like you severely underestimated the amount you told me

↳charles_leclerc: 🤭🤭

↳y/n_am_racing: ignore them Ollie and thank you

↳olliebearman: of course!

liamlawson30: I’m not calling you mom

↳y/n_am_racing: I’d run you over if you tried

↳charles_leclerc: such violence against Max’s kid!

↳y/n_am_racing: such violence against the damn annoyance

↳fernandoalo_oficial: Me alegra que estemos de acuerdo contra él. Glad we are in agreement against him

↳y/n_am_racing: Aston Martin against Liam! liked by fernandoalo_oficial

↳liamlawson30: I am being so attacked right now and I didn’t even do anything

↳fernandoalo_oficial: tu existes you exist

↳y/n_am_racing: you exist!

user5: Liam not even having his seat for a month and already beefing with Aston Martin is hilarious

↳user6: one of the original grid terrorists and the girl everyone calls the Ice Bitch because of how fucking cold and mean she is? Not the best choices for enemies liked by fernandoalo_oficial, y/n_am_racing

astonmartinf1: Congrats!

↳astonmartinf1: but maybe give this poor admin a wanting next time?

↳scuderiaferrari: or this one?

↳redbullracing: any admin actually

↳user7: these fools really didn’t tell anyone they were gonna hard launch their relationship?

↳y/n_am_racing: nope!

↳maxverstappen1: better to ask forgiveness than for permission

↳charles_leclerc: ☺️☺️

charles_leclerc

liked by y/n_am_racing, maxverstappen1, pierregasly, and 2,283,193 others

tagged: maxverstappen1, y/n_am_racing

charles_leclerc: Ma lune et mes étoiles. My moon and stars

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user8: oh hello jealousy thanks for your visit

user9: what I would give to be apart of that relationship…

↳user10: same! Are they looking for a forth? A dog? I can bark

maxverstappen1: mijn liefje my sweetheart

↳y/n_am_racing: have I told you guys lately I fucking love it when you speak foreign to me?

↳user11: 🤣

↳charles_leclerc: mes étoiles, pourquoi ne le dis-tu pas encore au cas où. My stars, why don’t you say it again just incase

↳maxverstappen1: niet recentelijk en de herinnering is leuk. Not recently and the reminder is nice

↳y/n_am_racing: hot 🥵🥵🥵🥵

oscarpiastri: is the family dinner still on?

↳y/n_am_racing: of course! Sunday at 4 at Max’s

↳olliebearman: am i still invited?

↳charles_leclerc: of course!

↳kimi.antonelli: you’re just gonna leave me alone?

↳y/n_am_racing: why don’t you come too kimi?

↳kimi.antonelli: sì, grazie!

↳maxverstappen1: again how many grid kids do you have? Because I still feel like you severely underestimated the amount you told me

↳y/n_am_racing: at least ours are polite. Yours is…Liam liked by fernandoalo_oficial

↳liamlawson30: honestly fuck you?

↳maxverstappen1: what

↳charles_leclerc: do not speak that way to her!

↳liamlawson30: she started it!!

↳y/n_am_racing: ha!

y/n_am_racing

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, user, and 3,121,183 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

y/n_am_racing: baby i'm astounded by how this country screams your name (just like I will)

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astonmartinf1: please report to HR for another round of pr training

↳user12: leave our girl alone!

↳y/n_am_racing: thank you!

↳user12: she absolutely did something wrong but it was funny af liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1

↳y/n_am_racing: 😑😑

charles_leclerc: 🥰😘 liked by y/n_am_racing

↳y/n_am_racing: meet me in your room in five

↳scuderiaferrari: No

↳charles_leclerc: yes!

↳y/n_am_racing: too late

↳astonmartinf1: definitely need that pr training…

maxverstappen1: mijn schatje…my treasure…

↳y/n_am_racing: try winning a race this year? And maybe you’ll get the same kind of post

↳user13: oh my god what a reminder that this hasn’t been redbull’s year…

↳y/n_am_racing: it’s because of Liam liked by fernandoalo_oficial

↳liamlawson30: I’m going to run you over

↳y/n_am_racing: in that fucking tractor? You’d have to catch me first

↳user14: it might not be redbull’s year but it IS y/n’s! liked by y/n_am_racing, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1

user15: the Ferrari domination this year is hot as fuck

↳user16: he could dominate me…

↳y/n_am_racing: hem-hem?

↳user16: THEORETICALLY. I MEAN THEORETICALLY

↳y/n_am_racing: much better

user17: as a ferrari and y/n fan i am loving this year!!

↳user18: as a max fan i am not…

lewishamilton: do I need to find a new room tonight?

↳fernandoalo_oficial: or do I?

↳y/n_am_racing: yes

↳maxverstappen1: yes

↳charles_leclerc: yes

y/n_am_racing

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, francisca.cgomes, and 3,173,284 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, francisca.cgomes, carmenmmundt, flavy.barla, iamrebeccad, lilymhe, lilyzneimer, alex_albon, arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55, danielricciardo, estebanocon, fernandoalo_oficial, georgerussell63, landonorris, lewishamilton, logansargeant, mickschumacher, oscarpiastri, pierregasly, yukitsunoda0511, zhouguanyu24

y/n_am_racing: thank you to my boys and my girls and the grid for the best 27th birthday ever!

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user20: the fomo I’m experiencing right now…

↳user21: no I know what you mean

lilymhe: that was literally the best birthday party ever!

↳y/n_am_racing: only because you were there!

↳lilymhe: well that’s just not true pretty girl!

↳maxverstappen1: stop flirting with our girlfriend?

↳y/n_am_racing: shush

↳lilymhe:😘

↳maxverstappen1:🙄

landonorris: where do I send my bill?

↳y/n_am_racing: for what?

↳landonorris: for my dj services?

↳y/n_am_racing: you mean when you drunkenly took over the music for 5 minutes then passed out on top of a table?

↳landonorris: is that why I have sharpie all over my face?

↳alex_albon: yeah

↳georgerussell63: it was a tempting target

↳maxverstappen1: yup

↳carlossainz55: an opportunity I didn’t want to miss

user22: ok but was everyone in the grid invited?

↳y/n_am_racing: yup! And everyone came for the dinner but it was only the kool kids that went to the after party

↳user23: even Liam?

↳y/n_am_racing: we needed someone to stick the bill on liked by fernandoalo_oficial

↳liamlawson30: SERIOUSLY?

↳fernandoalo_oficial: ¿Por qué pagaríamos cuando estabas allí? Why would we pay when you were right there? liked by y/n_am_racing

↳user23: your continued hatred of Liam is probably my favorite part of the season…

lewishamilton: props where they’re do — you guys can throw a mean party 🥳

↳y/n_am_racing: thanks Lew! And thank you for the gifts — I love them

↳user24: who else is curious about what y/n got?

↳y/n_am_racing: he got me a couple of custom Louis Vuitton shoes!

↳y/n_am_racing: and some of the other guys got me the matching purses!

↳user25: I am so unbelievably jealous liked by y/n_am_racing

yukitsunoda0511: the food passed the test

↳y/n_am_racing: not sure what test it was but glad you enjoyed it! And thanks for the Japanese cookbooks — I’m expecting actual lessons though!

↳yukitsunoda0511: good plan!

maxverstappen1

liked by y/n_am_racing, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 2,938,183 others

tagged: y/n_am_racing

maxverstappen1: treating our girl right for her birthday

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y/n_am_racing: thank you my loves. It was the best birthday ever 💚💚

↳charles_leclerc: Mes étoiles, c'est tout à fait normal que nous fêtions votre anniversaire. C'était le plus beau jour de notre vie parce que tu es né et tu es finalement devenu le nôtre. My stars, it is only right we celebrate your birthday. It was the best day of our lives because you were born and eventually became ours.

↳maxverstappen1: Mijn schatje, de hele dag doorbrengen met het verwennen van jou was het gemakkelijkste wat ik ooit heb gedaan. My treasure, spending the day spoiling you was the easiest thing i've ever done.

user26: is that…is that max verstappen being soft? Mad max? Being soft? liked by y/n_am_racing

↳y/n_am_racing: aren’t I the luckiest?

↳user27: you really truly are

fernandoalo_oficial: feliz cumpleaños niña. Happy birthday girlie

↳y/n_am_racing: thanks Nando!

↳user28: god this mentor/mentee partnership is the best. Not taking any questions or criticisms

↳y/n_am_racing: easy to do when it has both me AND nando! liked by fernandoalo_oficial

astonmartinf1: happy birthday!

↳y/n_am_racing: thanks admin!

liamlawson30: you definitely look older!

↳y/n_am_racing: when you go missing, I won’t be sad liked by fernandoalo_oficial

↳liamlawson30: 😑👎🏻

y/n_am_racing

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, fernandoalo_oficial, and 1,273,832 others

y/n_am_racing: Canada oh Canada thank you thank you thank you! P1 BABY!

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astonmartinf1: THATS OUR GIRL! Y/N POINTS!

↳y/n_am_racing: HELL YEAH I AM!

fernandoalo_oficial: felicidades, niña! Congratulations, girlie!

↳y/n_am_racing: thanks nando! And congrats on p4!

↳user29: Aston Martin for WCC!! liked by fernandoalo_oficial, y/n_am_racing

maxverstappen1: glad to be on podium with you both

↳y/n_am_racing: we’ll have to do it more often 😘

↳charles_leclerc: ma lune et mes étoiles, vous êtes toutes les deux tellement incroyables! my moon and stars, you are both so amazing!

↳y/n_am_racing: my room in five? liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc

↳astonmartinf1: no they’re banned

↳scuderiaferrari: stop stealing our driver!

↳redbullracing: No!

↳y/n_am_racing: too late!!

user30: today is definitely y/n’s day — p1, podium with her boys, and she’s getting railed?

↳y/n_am_racing: 😊😊😊

↳user30: tell me your ways please

↳y/n_am_racing: nah

charles_leclerc

liked by y/n_am_racing, maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, and 2,824,284 others

tagged: y/n_am_racing, maxverstappen1

charles_leclerc: vacances d'été avec ma lune et mes étoiles. Summer break with my moon and stars

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y/n_am_racing: nowhere else I’d rather be…

↳user31: girl same

↳y/n_am_racing: back off! They’re mine! liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1: it’s been a good break so far

↳charles_leclerc: it has! 🥰🥰

↳user32: oh to be on a boat with y/n, max, and Charles…

↳y/n_am_racing: ngl it’s pretty great

oscarpiastri: padel tomorrow?

↳y/n_am_racing: ugh no

↳charles_leclerc: absolutely!

↳maxverstappen1: sure

lilymhe: golf tomorrow y/n_am_racing?

↳y/n_am_racing: anything for you pretty girl!

↳alex_albon: am i just chopped liver?

↳y/n_am_racing: tbh some people actually like chopped liver so…liked by lilymhe

user10: again are they looking for a forth?

↳y/n_am_racing: nope!

↳maxverstappen1: no

↳charles_leclerc: non

↳user33: shut! down!

y/n_am_racing

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 2,813,193 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

y/n_am_racing: I forgot how good you looked on the top step baby

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user34: go max!

user35: congrats max!

maxverstappen1: it’s been awhile

↳y/n_am_racing: I think the saying is good things come to those that wait?

↳maxverstappen1: I’m not very good with waiting hence the race cars…

↳charles_leclerc: …your room in 5?

↳y/n_am_racing: already there!

↳charles_leclerc: ☺️

↳astonmartinf1: sorry redbullracing she was tooo fast for us

↳scuderiaferrari: Charles we can’t keep doing this…

↳redbullracing: you guys were specifically banned from our garage!

oscarpiastri: congrats man!

↳maxverstappen1: thanks oscar

user36: god it’s been so long

↳y/n_am_racing: sorry not sorry but I’m gonna make sure it takes this long for the next one!

↳maxverstappen1: mijn schatje…my treasure…

↳y/n_am_racing: 🥺🥺🥺🥺 liked by maxverstappen1

↳maxverstappen1: 🙄

liamlawson30: don’t crash into me challenge FAILED

↳y/n_am_racing: when is Max Verstappen second driver curse gonna kick in?

↳fernandoalo_oficial: hopefully soon liked by y/n_am_racing

↳liamlawson30: how do I dislike a comment??

↳y/n_am_racing: THIS IS MY COMMENT SECTION!!!

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc,y/n_am_racing, user and 3,129,287 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, y/n_am_racing

maxverstappen1: what an incredible season — not the one we wanted obviously but I am so incredibly proud of charles_leclerc on his WDC and y/n_am_racing and astonmartinf1 for their WCC. We’ll learn from this and come back stronger next year — I’ll be coming for my trophies.

Now it’s time to rest and relax with my loves.

comments have been restricted on this post

astonmartinf1: thank you max! But don’t think we’ll make it easy for you liked by y/n_am_racing

charles_leclerc: ma lune, ce fut un plaisir de courir contre toi l'année dernière. my moon, it was a pleasure to race against you the past year

↳maxverstappen1: it’s always a pleasure to race against you and y/n liked by charles_leclerc, y/n_am_racing

fernandoalo_oficial: tu es presque sûr que tu as oublié de remercier quelqu'un? pretty sure you forgot to thank someone?

↳maxverstappen1: oh yeah…

↳maxverstappen1: congrats I guess

y/n_am_racing: I can’t wait to spend the next couple of months with just you and Charles! 💚💚

↳maxverstappen1: the best part of the year

↳charles_leclerc: it’ll be a good break ma lune et mes étoiles. My moon and stars

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @nichmeddar @mxm47max @loveylee @voidvannie

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wendichester · 1 month ago

Note

I'm gonna be a little bit greedy because I loved the first one. 😁

I can't think of a particular situation, but can you just give me your best, heart-wrenching dean x reader angst? I know you'll do great cuz you write Dean so well.

Thanks love your stuff so much!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ghost of you,

summary. you're gone and dean doesn't know how to cope

pairing. dean winchester x reader ; super angsty!

wordcount. 499

notes. first, thank you for the leap of faith!!! i hope this manages to bring a tiny tear to your eyes ehe 🥺

Dean Winchester is good at losing people.

He’s been doing it his whole life.

His mom. His dad. Jo. Ellen. Bobby. Cas.

And now you.

You, who was supposed to be the exception. The one person he swore he wouldn’t lose, the one person he couldn’t lose, because if he did—

If he did, there’d be nothing left of him.

But life doesn’t care about what Dean Winchester swears.

It takes anyway.

He doesn’t remember much about the hunt.

He remembers blood. Your blood.

Pooling beneath you, warm and red and so much, spilling through his fingers as he pressed down, as he begged—

"Stay with me, sweetheart, c’mon, please—”

You were shaking. Your lips were turning pale. But you still managed to smile, soft and sad.

“Dean,” you whispered, and he almost screamed, because it sounded too much like goodbye.

But you died before he could make you promise it wasn’t.

The worst part isn’t the funeral. It isn’t the silence, the emptiness, the quiet ache of absence in every part of his life.

It’s the almosts.

The moments where he forgets.

Like when he’s driving, and he sees something stupid on the side of the road and thinks, She’s gonna love this, only to remember—

You’re gone.

Or when he wakes up after a hunt, body sore, reaching for you without thinking—

Only to find the other side of the bed cold.

Or when he hears someone laughing, and for half a second, his heart lifts, convinced it’s you—

Only for the world to gut him again.

You haunt him more than any ghost ever could.

Sam worries.

Dean knows he does. He sees it in the way his brother watches him, cautious and quiet, waiting for the day Dean breaks.

But there’s nothing to break.

One night, Dean dreams of you.

Not in the way he usually does—not memories, not shadows, not echoes of the past.

You’re there.

Standing in the bunker’s kitchen, barefoot and beautiful, wearing one of his old shirts, looking at him like he’s the only thing in the world that matters.

“Hey, baby,” you say, soft and sweet, like nothing’s changed.

Dean can’t breathe.

He rushes toward you, grabs your face, touches your skin like he’s trying to memorize the way it feels before you disappear again.

You don’t disappear.

You lean into him, warm and real, fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. “I’m here.”

Dean swallows hard. His vision blurs.

“This isn’t real,” he whispers.

You smile. “No.”

And then, quieter—

“But I wish it was.”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut, presses his forehead to yours. “I can’t do this without you.”

You kiss him. Soft and slow and final.

“Yes, you can.”

When he wakes up, there’s an ache so deep inside him that he doesn’t know how he’s still breathing.

But he does.

Because that’s all he can do.

Because no matter how much he loves you—

No matter how much he misses you—

Ghosts don’t come back.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @lovewolfspirit ⋆ @kayleighwinchester ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @beakaleak32 ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098 ⋆ @lacysretribution ⋆ @globetrotter28 ⋆ @i-love-gvf ⋆ @lemonswinchester ⋆ @4k1vrr ⋆ @bejeweledinterludes ( continues in the comments )

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fic #supernatural #.docx #.req

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ultravi0lence14 · 4 months ago

Text

Born In The U.S.A

dean winchester x angel!reader

1.3k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: in a spur of the moment decision, dean decides to take his wide eyed angel on a road trip to see all of his favourite places in america.

“dean, are we there yet?” your sweet voice drifted through the small confines of baby, sending a smile onto dean’s face as he counted that being the fourth time you’ve said that in the span of five minutes.

you were so used to flying wherever you needed to go, that it took dean a good couple of months to explain to you that driving took a little more time than your usual choice of wing transportation.

he gave your thigh a light squeeze with the hand resting on it, turning his head slightly so he could see your bewildered expression. “almost there, sweets. just another hour or so.”

you and dean had spent the past couple of days in the impala together, driving around different places in america so he could show you his all time favourite spots.

he had realized you didn’t know much about earth, and in a last minute decision, he whisked you away from the bunker and left sam and cas to deal with any up coming cases.

dean hadn’t expected you to be so ecstatic. he was expecting you to worry about leaving the workload on sam and your brother. though he was greatly surprised when you jumped into his arms, hands hugging tightly around his neck as you peppered countless kisses on his face and neck.

the excitement confused him slightly, asking you why you weren’t worried. you just smiled at him, revealing that you’ve been undergoing an unfamiliar feeling of need for dean and just dean. you wanted some alone time with him, and dean winchester wasn’t one to complain about that.

so the two of you set off on your journey, the open road and dean’s favourite american destinations in front of you.

the stops you two had been on were pretty eventful. dean had started off in chicago, parking his car and taking you on a stroll throughout the city. you were confused on what he wanted to show you until the two of you stopped in front of what dean called ‘the big bean’. you looked at him bewildered, dean’s excited face confusing you more. your lips parted with lack of words before you looked at dean with a subtle look of wonder. “why is it called that, dean? it’s just a giant, metal blob.”

he followed up your trip to chicago with the next stop being in north carolina. dean brought the two of you to a truck stop, explaining that this was the first place his dad let him drive the impala. he followed that up with going inside the small convenience store attached and buying you a shirt that said ‘truck life or no life’. he ended up taking a picture of you wearing the shirt, you wearing an even more confused face to match. he posted it to his friends only facebook page, the caption reading, “my angel is better than yours.”

your last stop was in minnesota, dean pulling into a sleepy looking diner that had you fearing for what he had up his sleeve. though you were thoroughly surprised that all dean had in mind was expressing his love for what he called ‘the best apple pie in the whole damn world.’

countless times you told him it was a waste of time to come here. that all food tasted like molecules and you wouldn’t be able to enjoy it. dean didn’t seem to care though. he just kissed you on the cheek, leaving a slight residue of apple filling as he spoke through a mouthful of pie, “with you here, it’s all i could ever dream of.”

now you two had been driving for a day or two, not stopping until you got to maine; per dean’s request. you didn’t know what he had in store for this state, but you were starting to get antsy trying to figure out what it could be.

dean seemed way to calm for your liking. classic rock cassette taps playing in the background as his fingers tapped the beat on your leg. the angelic side of you wanted to worry, but the other side that loved and trusted dean with your entire being said otherwise.

as he turned onto a dirt road that was off the side of the highway, your bewilderment grew ten fold, not understanding where dean was going to take you. the impala rumbled to a stop, your curiosity leading you to lean forward and get closer to the windshield to a get a better look at where dean had taken you.

in an instant it all made sense. the willow tree that overlooked a mossy pond took over your vision, and dean was grinning ear to ear as you whipped your head to look at him with a surprised smile on your face.

“dean,” you breathed out, opening the car door and stepping out into the earthy atmosphere. “this is the place where we met for the first time.”

“it is, sweets. possibly the best place america has to offer.” the grin on dean’s face could outshine a million suns, following behind you as you slowly walked towards the droopy tree. the two of you had met here around one year ago; castiel had heard static over angel radio, implying at a rogue angel was coming down to earth.

you’d rebelled like cas, seeing all the good that he was doing for humanity and disagreeing with the harsh and lucrative beliefs of the angels. when you fell underneath that willow tree, wings and grace gone, you were so confused, harbouring the knowledge of millennia and eons with no knowledge in how humans operated in today’s society.

when cas quickly transported sam and dean to the location in a remote location in maine, the group of three found you huddled underneath the willow tree, soaked to the bone from landing in the pond and shaking like a leaf. your knees were brought to your chest and you were rocking back and forth, reminding dean of a petulant child who just got caught doing something they shouldn’t.

the brother’s decided that cas should approach you. and when he did, you looked up at him with these big and wet eyes that had dean’s heart breaking in half. he heard you mumble a, “why do i feel like this, castiel? why is there this hollow pit in my stomach making everything feel so empty?”

“you’re experiencing human emotions, most likely a sense of heavy sadness.” his gentle nature and smile brightened your face a bit, allowing you to follow his actions as he softly gripped your elbow and raised you to your feet.

“come with us,” dean spoke lighter than he’s ever heard himself. “we’ll teach you how to live.”

the rest was history, and now, dean stood under the same tree where he saw you for the first time. he remembers how scared you were that day, eyes fleeting over the bunker like something was going to jump out and kill you.

for a couple of months you were in a rough place. missing your brother’s and sister’s while slowly adapting to human life. dean was by your side the whole time, and those moments spent together was what grew the profound bond between you two. this is when dean started to feel his heart stop and clench anytime you came into a room; the time he fell in love with you.

“dean, this is amazing.” there was a teary lilt to your voice, and in an instant you’d turned around and collapsed into dean’s arms. he was warm against the biting air, bringing you close into his body as his hands found purchase in stroking your hair.

“thank you.” the two words left your mouth in breaths, smushing against dean’s chest as he smiled down at you, leaving a kiss on the crown of your head.

pulling away from you at an arms length, following up by wrapping his arm around your shoulder, dean walked the two of you towards the willow tree, a little smile decorating his face. “honestly angel, we can just tell people you were born here. no one needs to know. though to me, you’ll always be born in the u.s.a.”

“isn’t that the song sam likes?”

“oh sweetheart, i have so much more to teach you.”

*dean totally has a facebook account with only ten followers where he posts almost 10 times a day and i’ll die on that hill.

tags: @a1ecmcdowell @jasvtsc @ostaramoon @cosmicanakin @fallbhind @aylacavebear @rubyvhs

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #imagine #supernatural x reader #fluff #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x angel!reader #dean winchester one shot

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eternally-racing · 1 year ago

Text

baby steps | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x wife!reader (plus their adorable lil kiddo)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 2.5k

summary: Lando needs a little bit of encouragement to head off to his first race after the birth of your daughter, so what better thing to do than surprise him on race day?

note: this fic can be read as a stand alone or as part of the racer girl series !

---

When you first showed Lando the two lines on your positive pregnancy test, your entire world had changed. It felt like such a whirlwind of excitement, and before you knew it you were 9 months pregnant watching Lando’s races on television. It was pure luck that your water only broke the day after the season ended, which meant that Lando had a cherished couple of months with your baby girl, Piper, before heading back to racing.

The two of them had become quite the dynamic duo in your household. From the moment that Lando first looked at your daughter, he knew that he was in love. He was an amazing father and you told him exactly that at every moment you could. It was one of the biggest fears that Lando had, being an absent father or not knowing what to do. Before you met Lando he was fully in his bachelor lifestyle, not once even thinking of kids, but now he was the biggest girl dad you’ve ever seen, giving into your daughter’s every whim. It’s exactly why Lando says he wants to give up racing all together once he sees your daughter cry for the first time when he leaves to go to the MTC for the first time since she was born - he would do anything for Piper, he would give up everything he loved if it meant that his little girl would be happy. Luckily, he had you to keep him grounded, and after more than a couple of tearful conversations you had helped Lando make peace with continuing on with his career with you and your daughter there to support him in the background. This was the first week that this was truly going to be tested though, since it was finally time for him to fly to Bahrain.

“Say goodbye to daddy!” you say as you pick up your daughter’s hand to make her wave.

You can see the way the wheels are turning in Lando’s head as he stays frozen in the entryway. He’s not forgetting anything, there’s no way he could with your packing lists that he’s used for every single race since you started dating. Even if he did forget something, he knows he could easily get someone from the team to either shop for him or send it over.

“Y/N I - , I don’t know anymore about this,” Lando mutters with his grip on the door handle loosening.

“Lan, cmon now, I can’t have two babies in this house at once.” you joke as you pinch his cheek. “But seriously, you’re gonna be okay? Just do your best out there. I’m only a phone call away all the time if you need me. You’re going to be great and we’re cheering you on from here. I’ll send you all the pictures and videos and everything so it’ll feel like you’re still with us.”

While Piper can’t talk yet, she still reaches out to Lando to gently pat his shoulder - which only brings more tears to the forefront of Lando’s eyes. He always said his daughter was smart beyond her years, able to sense things even some adults don’t notice.

“What if Piper can’t fall asleep without me reading her story? What if she learns how to walk before I’m gone? Or what if she forgets that I even exist?”

“First off, I have memorized “the Rainbow Fish” perfectly from the 7 different times you taught me it. She’s not going to walk because she’s barely 8 months old. And lastly, she’s not going to forget you Lando, I promise you that. Do you trust me?”

Lando doesn’t miss a beat when he says “always.”

You hand your daughter off to Lando’s arms in exchange for the carry on that’s currently in his hands. You know that all he needs to do is hold her, to remember that feeling of being with her so he can keep that memory with him for the week ahead. You’re not the only one who’s noticed the way that Piper always immediately seems to calm down whenever she’s in her dad’s arms. There was something special between the two of them, something so unbreakable - which is exactly what you tell Lando.

“Plus I think she’s in that phase where she’s starting to like you better, so I could use some alone time with our little bug” you tease as you squish your daughter’s cheeks. When Lando sees you cracking jokes it makes him feel a little more at ease - if you were so comfortable with this then why shouldn’t he be too? With one last hug and kiss, Lando finally walks out the door with a promise to facetime you once he gets to the airport.

Piper starts crying the second she realizes that her dad is really gone, and honestly you shed a few tears too.

“Don’t worry Pipes, we’re going to see daddy sooner than you think,” you whisper to your daughter as you try to soothe her. Little did Lando know that you had a bag packed in your bedroom for you and your daughter to surprise him at the paddock on race day.

—

The expectations were low for Lando in Bahrain, both from the media and from himself. He had been very upfront about having different priorities this summer than just racing, so he had been a write-off in so many people’s minds. That’s what made it even sweeter when Lando saw the checkered flag first in Bahrain, marking the very first time he had ever won at the circuit. It’s no secret that Lando had become more sensitive since he had become a dad, but when he says “This one is for my girls, I love you Y/N and Piper” over the radio, it brings tears to everyone’s eyes.

Lando is already over the moon. He gives a big cheer to the roaring crowd before going to hug the rest of the team. It’s absolutely electric and it really seems like everyone, regardless of whether they are a McLaren fan or not, could appreciate how much this win meant to him.

But the sweetest moment is when he spots you. You’re a little bit off to the side, a couple of security guards standing around you to make sure that nobody would try and trample over you and Piper. Little Piper is wearing a pair of noise canceling McLaren branded headphones on her ears as she hangs out happily in your arms. It’s like she spots her dad at the same time too, since she starts waving her arms in Lando’s direction. Lando immediately stops everything he’s doing to run over to you two. You have a knowing look in your eye, like you were just waiting for him to finally spot you both.

“Oh my god, you’re here.” Lando lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. Having you both here makes him finally feel complete, like his heart was finally whole again.

“There’s no way we were going to miss daddy’s first race of the season. Congratulations, babe”

Lando has questions of course - how you managed to pull this off without him noticing, whether Piper gave you trouble on the plane, and so much more. For now, though, he just wants to spend time with you two. He almost forgets that he’s at the race entirely, let alone that he won it until a team member comes up behind him to ask him if he’s ready to do his interview 5 minutes from now.

When Piper reaches over with her little grabby hands for Lando, you of course give into her whims as you pass her over to the sweaty driver. It also gives you a second to pull out your phone and capture the moment for yourself. Piper is playing with the visor on Lando’s helmet, learning a new form of peek a boo that you know that she’s going to want to keep playing when you get home. You’re the one who helps keep Lando on track, giving him one last kiss on his helmet before you tell him to head off towards the hoard of media personnel eagerly awaiting his appearance. When you go to take Piper back from him she refuses to budge, and with both Piper and Lando giving you their classic puppy dog eyes, you know you’re outnumbered.

“Keep her safe, Lan, okay?” It’s a rhetorical question. You know that Lando wouldn’t let anything happen to her - but it’s still a big crowd, the biggest you’ve ever been since you gave birth, and it’s a little scary to not hold onto her here.

You don’t think anyone has ever seen Will Buxton this happy as he pulls Lando aside for his post-race interview.

“I have to say, congratulations on an absolutely brilliant drive from you today, Lando - and would you like to introduce the special guest you’ve brought with you?” Will asks with a grin.

Lando can’t help the similar smile that is etched on his face as he looks at his little girl. “This is my daughter Piper, and she’s just the best thing that has ever happened to me. And I can’t share enough praise for my beautiful wife Y/N too - words can’t describe how much she means to me.I really wouldn’t be standing here in front of you today without her support.” Lando looks back at you with a smile and kisses Piper on the cheek to end off his sentence, but Piper seems to be more interested in the texture of the mic than her dad at the moment.

“What does it mean to you to have this be your first win as a father, Lando?”

“Oh man, this little girl is everything to me - I just want to do my best on the track so that Piper can look back and always be proud to have me as her dad.”

The moment is made extra sweet as Piper tosses and turns in Lando’s hold so that she can cling to him like a koala bear, pulling herself further into Lando’s chest. She is starting to like the microphone just as much as Lando, so she pulls her face right onto it before she says her very first word - “dada”.

At first Lando thinks he’s hallucinating - there’s so many people around and there’s so much noise that he can barely hear himself think. But then Piper says it again and he can’t help but start to cry.

“She -, she- called me dada, oh my god I can’t believe it,” Lando’s in pure disbelief as he stares in awe at his little girl and looks back at you watching in the crowd. For a minute he forgets that there’s a full corral of people watching him until he hears a collective “awww” from the crowd. “Sorry it’s just -, wow, she’s never done that before.” he says sincerely as he wipes the tears from his cheeks.

It’s now Piper’s turn to cry as she gets overwhelmed with all the eyes that are staring at her, pushing the microphone away from her as she buries her head into Lando’s shoulder. She is just a little kid, after all. Lando wraps up the interview as fast as he can, apologizing as he whisks Piper away to try and lift her spirits.

Luckily it’s time to head into the cooldown room, which proves to be the perfect place for Piper to calm down from her outburst. The antics continue there as Lando bounces Piper on her lap, pointing to the TV screen to show her all the highlights.

“Look at daddy about to overtake uncle Charles! And there’s uncle Alex, and uncle George...” Lando continues to retell the story of the last two hours as the other two podium sitters, Max and Oscar, chime in intermittently. Sometimes Piper’s gaze falls to Lando’s new hat instead of the screen, but he’s happy to have her in the room with him to share this moment.

You have to really bargain with Lando to get him to hand Piper back to you so he can head to the podium by himself - it’s only at the rational explanation of not wanting your baby covered in champagne that he finally gives in to reason. Piper loves seeing the celebrations on the podium, adding in some cheers of her own when she sees her dad jumping up and down with joy on the podium. The little girl is addicted to the shine of the Bahrain trophy in the sun and you and Lando both later joke that she likes the piece of metal better than the both of you combined.

It’s no surprise that Piper falls asleep on the car ride home - you do the same next to her as the jet lag catches up to you both. Piper still keeps one hand firmly on the trophy, having barely let it out of her sight since Lando brought it to her. Lando can’t help but feel so lucky as he looks through the rearview mirror at the both of you.

It never gets any easier - leaving. The next weekend Lando heads to the United States and Piper cries the whole day once she notices that he’s packing a suitcase. You’re honest with Lando when you tell him that you’ll see him once he gets back, there’s no way you and Piper would be able to handle all the time changes and long haul flights that would come with going to every race.

You still watch every race though, throwing sleep training to the wind as Piper often stays up at all odd hours to watch with you. There are so many moments where you wish that you could be there with Lando, especially with the season he’s having. As the journalists would say, Lando’s “dad powers” have brought him his best ever start to a Formula 1 season, as he has yet to finish outside the top 3 so far.

“What do you think is going to happen when I don’t come home from a trip with one of those?” Lando jokes as he sees your daughter absolutely enamored with the newest addition to her trophy collection. It’s the Australian GP trophy, which proves to be the perfect vessel for Piper to put her cereal pieces into. The little girl has taken to yelling as her new favorite hobby, and she shows it off every time she squeals with joy when Lando walks through the door after a race.

“I don’t want to find out, so you’ll just have to keep getting podiums, Lan” you joke back as you lean your head onto his shoulder.

----

author's note: oh man, this has been sitting in my drafts FOREVER as i tried to perfect it but i really wanted to share it with you all. Thanks for all the love - asks are open if you want to say hello or make a request! Until next time! - Em 🤍

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linaslivery · 8 months ago

Text

౨ৎ PANIC ౨ৎ

masterlist / rules / requests & talks with me!

SUMMARY౨ৎ Oscar doesn’t mean to come off as a panicking first time father, but his little one is his whole world! How will that anxiety crawl up when and boil over when it’s her first Grand Prix?

PAIRING ౨ৎ Dad!Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS ౨ৎ oscar is just a nervous first time dad 😞

A/N ౨ৎ OSCAR REQUEST 🗣️, Sadie loves to terrorize Oscar, and I love that. A little menace she is.

OSCAR NEVER EXPECTED to be a father this young. He would have at least thought that he’d have a Championship, turn 25, or even get married before he had a child. But life had its own plans.

From the moment he first held her, everything else faded into the background. Racing, which had been the center of his universe, now revolved around his daughter. She was so small, so delicate, and every little noise she made sent his heart racing.

Oscar was known for being calm. Level headed. Realistic. Yet, when it came to his little girl, things changed. Drastically.

Everything was a threat. It started with the small things: a tiny cough, her first stumbles and falls when she first attempted walking, the way she’d put everything she found into her mouth. He tried to stay calm, telling himself that every parent worried, but it never took much for that anxiety to creep up on him. A trip to the playground turned into a mental obstacle course—every slide was too high, every swing too fast, and the idea of her falling down onto the wood chips make his skin crawl.

And now, it was the moment many fathers in Formula One would love: to see their children watch them race. But Oscar? He was a wreck.

`· . ୨୧⭒๋࣭ ⭑

The night was quiet in Australia, the moonlight shining through the blinds of his parents home you both decided to stay in before the start of the Grand Prix around the corner with the chirping crickets forming their own harmony outside. With Sadie finally asleep in Oscar’s arms, a small smile tugged at your lips before you spoke.

“You know… I’ve been thinking.”

Oscar glanced over softly, his eyes warm with affection. “You? Thinking? I’m bracing myself here.”

“Haha. Funny.” You took a deep breath, carefully choosing your words. “I was thinking… maybe we should take Sadie to the Australian GP. I know it’s her first one, but it could be a special experience for her. And for us. I mean, it’s your home race. Our home race.”

Oscar's fingers lightly brushed against Sadie's soft, downy hair as he shifted her gently in his arms. The quiet, tender moment was interrupted by your suggestion, and his brow furrowed slightly in concern.

“..What?” He questioned, his Aussie accent slipping through. The thought of having his little girl at the track, in the midst of the roaring engines and flashing cameras, made him feel uneasy. It wasn’t the fact it was a race that concerned him but rather how unpredictable it is.

“Let’s take Sadie to the Grand Prix this weekend.” You repeated.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low. “It’s not exactly a calm environment. It’s loud, chaotic…”

You gently placed a hand on his arm, "I know, Oscar. But I think it would be good for her to see what you do, even if she’s too young to fully understand. It could be a special memory for us, and your Mum insists she comes with us for extra help."

Oscar’s grip tightened slightly on Sadie as he looked down at her peaceful face, her tiny hand curled around his thumb. “What if she gets scared? The noise alone could be overwhelming for her,” He murmured.

You leaned in closer, resting your head against his shoulder. “We’ll be right there with her. And she’ll have ear protection, and we’ll make sure she’s comfortable. Besides, she’ll be surrounded by people who love her, including your parents and sisters. It’ll be okay.”

Oscar didn’t seem convinced judging by his silence and expression on his face.

“Oscar, Sadie is a calm baby. Unusually calm.” You stated earning a small amused scoff, “Like how your Mum described you as a baby and kid kind of calm… without waking up screaming to be freed from the crib. She will be okay.”

Oscar sighed, feeling the weight of your words. You were right; Sadie was an unusually calm baby, a trait she no doubt inherited from him. But that didn’t stop the what-ifs from swirling around in his mind.

“Okay,” he said finally, his voice firmer now. “We’ll do it. We’ll take her to the Grand Prix.”

`· . ୨୧⭒๋࣭ ⭑

Stepping into the Australian sun, the warmth envelops you like a blanket, its golden rays reflecting off the bustling excitement of the Australian Grand Prix.

“Sweetheart, do you have her-“

“Yes Oscar, I have her ear protection, I have her spare clothes just in case, and the baby bag is hanging on her stroller.” You reply with a amused smile at his questioning as we entered the paddock.

Oscar gave a relieved nod, looking over at Sadie in his arms who was taking in her new surroundings. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as you approached the McLaren garage.

The garage was abuzz with activity. Team members hurriedly prepared the cars, the unmistakable scent of gasoline and tire rubber filled the air, and mechanics shouted over the din of the crowd. Oscar's teammates and crew were working efficiently, their focus entirely on the task at hand.

As you reached the entrance to the McLaren garage, Oscar’s anxiety flared up again. “Do you think she’ll be okay in all this noise?” he asked, casting a worried glance at Sadie while he set her down, who seemed completely unfazed finding her balance.

“She’ll be fine, Oscar,” you reassured him, squeezing his hand. “Look at her. She’s curious, not scared. Besides, she’s got her daddy to protect her.”

Oscar smiled faintly at that, but the knots in his stomach refused to loosen. He glanced back at Sadie, who had wandered over to a stack of tires and was trying to peer around them. Every little movement she made seemed like a potential hazard in Oscar’s mind—what if she stumbled and hit her head? What if she got too close to something dangerous?

He quickly crossed the short distance to her, crouching down and gently steering her back toward the stroller. “Stay close, okay?” he said softly, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.

Sadie looked up at him with a small smile, her tiny hand gripping his finger as she babbled something incoherent. Oscar’s heart melted a little, but the tension remained.

You watched him, your heart aching for the way he was trying so hard to keep it together. “Oscar, she’s safe. I promise you-”

As if on cue, Sadie eyes lit up as she spotted the bright orange McLaren car. Oscar couldn’t help but smile at her reaction. It was the first time he’d seen her show interest in his world…. or really anything besides her family.

Yet, that moment didn’t last long.

Sadie, determined to explore, suddenly let go of Oscar’s hand and toddled off towards the car. Oscar’s heart skipped a beat as he scrambled after her, scooping her up just as she reached the edge of the garage. “No, no, no… not there.” he muttered, holding her close as he carried her back to the you and the relative safety of the stroller.

“She’s fast,” one of the mechanics chuckled, having witnessed the scene. “She’s like Verstappen on track!”

Oscar simply gave a embarrassed chuckle after his daughter’s attempts of adventure. Yet, Sadie’s terrorizing didn’t end there. As the day progressed, Oscar and you did your best to keep Sadie entertained and safe in the bustling environment of the McLaren garage in preparing for the race. Unfortunately, she seemed determined to explore every inch of the place, much to both of your guys’s dismay.

INSTANCE 1: TIRES

As Oscar tried to get a moment of calm in the garage, he put Sadie down for a quick break next to her stroller. He was just about to check in with his team when he heard a faint sound. Spinning around, he saw that Sadie had wriggled out of her stroller’s harness and was crawling towards a rack of tires.

Oscar’s heart raced as he dashed over, his eyes wide with panic. “That’s where we aren’t going, Missy.” he exclaimed, scooping her up just as she was about to pull herself up onto the stack. The tires wobble precariously, and Oscar’s breath caught in his throat. He held her tightly, his face pale as he glanced around to see if anyone had noticed his near disaster.

The surrounding mechanics, sensing his distress, quickly stepped in to stabilize the tires. One of them patted him on the back, “Seems to me she wants to be part of the pit crew already!”

“Maybe she’ll be the one changing your tires this race!” Another commented with a laugh.

Oscar forced a smile, but the worry lines on his forehead remained.

INSTANCE 2:

As Oscar prepared for the race, you took over watching Sadie, trying to keep her entertained while Oscar suited up. You were stationed near the McLaren garage entrance, making sure to keep a watchful eye on Sadie who was now sitting contentedly in her stroller—at least for the moment.

However, as you turned to chat with one of the team’s engineers, you heard a soft giggle followed by a rapid series of thumps. Turning quickly, you saw Sadie had somehow managed to wriggle out of her stroller again and was crawling towards a set of hydraulic jacks. The sight of her tiny fingers reaching out to touch the massive equipment made your heart skip a beat.

“Nu uh, little lady! We don’t touch that! No no.” you exclaimed, rushing over to her. But as you got closer, Sadie let out a giggle as you lifted her up into your arms.

“I’ve never seen a baby this eager to be with McLaren.” Charlotte smiled as she passed by. “Perhaps she should start working with me at communications to be with Oscar more often!”

You gave a slightly embarrassed laugh as you buckled her in, she reached out with a pout, clearly unhappy with being restrained. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but we have to stay safe,” you murmured, brushing her hair back.

The rest of the crew chuckled at the spectacle, but you could see the worried look on Oscar’s face as he came out of his room, suited up in his gear. “Everything okay?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

“Just a small adventure with the hydraulic jacks,” you said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “She’s fine now, but we might need to make sure all the escape routes are blocked off.”

Oscar gave a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Noted…”

INSTANCE 3: THE LANDO OVERTAKE

As the tension in the garage reached a peak with the race fast approaching, Sadie’s curiosity showed no signs of waning. Oscar, now fully suited up and mentally bracing himself for the race, was still visibly on edge.

In the midst of the frantic pre-race preparations, you found yourself trying to keep Sadie entertained while Oscar finished his final checks with the team. However, Sadie’s attempts to explore had escalated to a full-blown quest for adventure.

The McLaren garage was abuzz with activity, but you kept a close eye on Sadie, who had recently discovered the appeal of the large, colorful tire barriers. She was reaching out, her small fingers attempting to grasp anything within her reach. Just as you managed to corral her back to the stroller, a familiar voice came from behind you both.

“Oscar, mate you look like you’ve went to hell and back.” Lando chuckled, approaching with a sympathetic grin. His eyes quickly darted to Sadie, who was now fixated on the box of tools that a mechanic handed her just to keep her occupied.

Oscar, still visibly stressed, gave a exhale, resting his head on your shoulder. “Lando, you have no idea. She’s like a magnet for trouble today.”

Lando and Sadie have met before, back when she was just born in a hospital visit.

Lando’s gaze softened as he crouched down to Sadie’s level, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hey there, Sadie. How’s it going, little lady? You’ve grown up quite a bit haven’t you?” he questioned, trying to capture her attention.

Sadie’s tiny head turned toward Lando, her eyes wide with interest with the new face for today. The sight of Lando’s playful demeanor seemed to break through her persistent determination. For a moment, she was entranced by his animated expressions and the sound of his voice.

She reached out towards him, her earlier determination to explore seemingly melting away in the face of his playful antics. Lando’s antics were enough to draw a genuine smile from her, and she even let out a small giggle, her tiny fingers grasping at his brightly colored McLaren cap.

Oscar, watching from a short distance, let out a relieved breath as he saw Sadie’s attention shift from her previous distractions. It was as if Lando had managed to temporarily derail her adventurous spirit with nothing more than charm and a few well-timed funny faces.

Needless to say, Oscar was astonished. He spent a handful of hours trying to stop her from even wandering off and all it took was a a small talk and a funny face?

“I…wha… how?!”

“Having a niece helps out a lot when it comes to kids, y’know.”

All that was left now was race time.

POST RACE

After all the chaos, Oscar achieved a solid P4 just behind Lando. Truely a race to remember compared to first race last year.

When he finally emerged from the car, the first thing he did was seek out you and his daughter. He was visibly relieved to find her in one piece, though she had managed to wriggle out of her stroller again and was now playing with the cap that Lando had given her.

Lando, who had been keeping an eye on Sadie during the race, gave Oscar a sympathetic grin. “You survived the race and the baby chaos. You’re a hero in my book.”

Oscar chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders. He scooped Sadie up, finally able to relax. “Thanks, Lando. I think I need a nap after all this.”

As the team cleaned up and you all walked out of the garage, Sadie clinging to Oscar’s neck and half-asleep after all her terrorism she caused in the McLaren garage. Happily, you could see the exhaustion in his eyes but also a newfound contentment.

“We aren’t taking her to another race are we?” You questioned.

“Unless we got a baby leash like Kevin suggested? Hell no.” Oscar huffed out in response.

#f1 x reader #☆ﾟ user ↳ theyluvkarolina ◝#f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #op81 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x female reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 drabble #f1 imagine #formula 1

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 2 months ago

Note

Ooo hii can I please request a Bucky x fem!reader where Y/n has had necromancy powers ever since she was a little girl (definitely made growing up hard because it’s hard to tell the difference when she’s talking to a ghost and when she’s talking to a living person , and the adults in her life never believed her). Now, as an adult, she lives with the Avengers at their HQ (not officially an Avenger, though Steve has been trying to convince her to become one for years). She had met Steve not that long after Loki’s attack on NY, he found a very overwhelmed Y/n talking to herself in an alley (a lot of people died after the attack so she would’ve had a lot of ghosts trying to talk to her), her eyes glow when she’s using her powers so Steve put two and two together that she’s probably a mutant. He convinced her to live with the Avengers and said he believes her when she tells him what she can do. Anyways, one day she somehow runs into The Winter Soldier (before CA: Winter Soldier), and Bucky has briefly woken up from being brainwashed and ran away from Hydra, and the two of them fall in love, only for Hydra to find him and force him back and Y/n ends up finding out she’s pregnant after he’s gone🥺. She refuses to tell her friends (The Avengers) who the father is and what happened to him but they promise they’ll be there for her🥺 She has a daughter and the Avengers help her raise her (Steve can’t help but think that this little girl is the spitting image of Bucky, but he knows it can’t be true because he “died” in 1945). Fast forward to after Steve finds out his best friend is alive, and he tracks him down to Romania, Steve brings Bucky back to the Avengers Compound (The Avengers never broke up) and the first person he sees is Y/n, with a 4 year old little girl who looks just like him🥺 (they’d both start crying and be so shook and run into each others arms🥺)

They’d have a lot of explaining to do to the other Avengers lol

Spitting Image Of Him » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Female Reader with Steve Rogers/Captain America, the Avengers, and daughter Lucy

Summary: Bucky somehow manages to briefly escape HYDRA and meets you, which results in you and him falling in love and you having his daughter and Steve can’t help but notice how much your daughter looks like Bucky and you eventually explain everything to the Avengers.

Warnings: Fluff, language, pregnant!reader, mom!reader, dad!Bucky, HYDRA, crying, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the beautifully descriptive request @kpopgirlbtssvt 🩵

A/N #2: Bold text is note from HYDRA.

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

Not long after Loki’s attack on New York, you could still hear the voices of the people who didn’t make it. You’ve had necromancy powers since you were a kid. Meaning, you can hear the voices of the ghosts of dead people and sometimes it’s hard for you to know if you’re talking to an alive person or not.

Today was one of those days of you. You could hear the voices of the people who didn’t make it from Loki’s attack. You made a beeline to an alleyway. You sat down on the concrete, leaning your back against the brick wall. You covered your ears to try to tune out the voices of those people, which works sometimes.

“Not real.” You kept repeating to yourself.

Steve’s enhanced hearing picked up the sound of a voice as he was walking down the street. He heard it coming from the alleyway he was about to walk past. He followed the sound of the voice, leading him to you. Steve saw you sitting on the ground with your ears covered.

“Ma’am, are you ok?” Steve asks softly.

You yelped when you heard a new voice. You uncovered your ears and looked up at the man. Your mind was all over the place that you couldn’t tell if he was a ghost or not.

“Are you a ghost?” You asked in a shaky voice.

“No.” He answers.

You continued to stare at him, trying to figure out if he’s alive or a ghost. Steve crouched down in front of you. You pressed yourself more against the brick wall.

“Can I see your hand?” He asks.

You silently stared at him for a few seconds before extending your hand to him. Steve gently put your hand on his chest where his heart is. You relaxed when you felt his heartbeat.

“I’m not a ghost.” He assures. “What’s your name?” He asks.

“Y/N.” You answered quietly.

“I’m Steve.” He introduces himself.

Steve watched your eyes glow. That was enough to tell him that you have powers of some kind.

“Come with me.” Steve says, standing up and holding his hand out to you.

“Where?” You asked, looking up at him.

“I’m going to help you out and give you a place to stay.” He says.

You slowly put your hand in his and stood up. Steve took you to the Avengers compound. You’ve seen the building from the outside, but you’ve never been inside before.

“What is this place?” You asked, looking around.

“Avengers compound.” Steve answers.

Steve lead you to the lounge room where the Avengers are.

“Guys, this is Y/N. She’s going to be staying with us.” Steve says to the Avengers.

The Avengers introduced themselves to you. You gave them a smile and shyly waved at them.

“I’ll show you to your room.” Steve says.

You nodded and followed him to the floor where the bedrooms are. Steve opened the door to an empty bedroom, allowing you to walk in the room first. The bedroom was already full with a bed, nightstand, dresser, and a TV. There was also a closet and a bathroom in there.

“My room is right next door if you ever need anything.” Steve says, pointing to the right.

You smiled and nodded.

“I’ll let you rest now. Let me know if you need anything.” He says.

You nodded and he left the room.

It didn’t take you long to adjust to living in the Avengers compound. It took a few weeks for you to adjust to your new living arrangements.

“Hey, Y/N.” Steve smiles as he walks in your room. “Have you thought any more about becoming an Avenger?” He asks as he sat down on your bed.

“No. The thought of it is cool, but I need more time to think about it.” You say.

“That’s ok. Take all the time you need.” He says softly, putting a comforting hand on your knee.

You smiled at him.

Later that same day, you were walking down the street. You weren’t sure where you were going. You just wanted to clear your mind. You were looking down at the ground as you were walking and you accidentally bumped into someone. You lost your balance and fell to the ground, making an “Oof” noise.

“Sorry.” The man says.

He holds out his hand for you. You looked up at him and put your hand in his. You gave him a smile as he helped you up.

“Thank you, sir.” You smiled.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles back. “I’m James, but everyone I know calls me Bucky.” He introduces himself.

“I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself.

You couldn’t help but notice how handsome Bucky is. Bucky admired your beauty as well.

“You’re handsome.” You blurted out.

“Thank you, doll. You’re gorgeous as well.” Bucky says with a smile.

You blushed when he called you gorgeous. Goosebumps appeared on your skin when Bucky’s right hand cupped your cheek, his thumb rubbing against your skin.

“I have a strong feeling that we’re going to get along well.” He says softly.

“Me too.” You say, smiling up at him.

Over the next few days, you managed to sneak out of the compound without any of the Avengers noticing. You went to the small apartment Bucky is currently hiding out at. You and Bucky have your own knock when you two knock on the door so you two know it’s each other and not anyone else.

“Come in, doll.” Bucky whispers, taking a quick peak left and right to make sure you weren’t followed.

You quickly went inside his apartment. Bucky closed the door and locked it. He then greeted you with a sweet kiss. He put on his hands on your waist and pulled you against him. You smiled against his lips and put your hands on his chest.

“I was wondering when you were going to come by.” He says softly.

“I have to be sneaky around the people I live with when I leave.” You say with a small giggle.

You told Bucky that you live with a few people, but you didn’t tell him that they’re the Avengers. You don’t want him to think you and them are after him, in which you’re not. You and Bucky are still getting to know each other and have a good thing going.

“You know how much I love you?” He asks softly.

“The kisses you give me tell me how much you love me.” You smiled.

“I’ll give you more kisses to show you how much I love you.” He murmurs, kissing you sweetly and passionately.

You ended up losing track of time and spent the night with Bucky that night. As you were sleeping peacefully in Bucky’s arms, he heard all too familiar footsteps outside the door. His heart started pounding. He was expecting HYDRA or whoever was outside the door to break down the door, but it was just the opposite. He seen a folded piece of paper slide under the door and inside the apartment. Bucky carefully and quietly got out of bed so he didn’t wake you up. He picked up the paper and unfolded it, reading what it says. He used the street lights shining into the apartment as light to read.

Soldat, we know you escaped. We also know you got yourself a girlfriend. If you want her to stay unharmed, you return to us. If you don’t, you’ll see her all bruised and bloody. We will use force to make you return to us if we have to.

Bucky’s jaw clenched at the part of the note where they threatened to beat you bloody and bruised. He crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it somewhere in the apartment and ran his fingers through his long hair. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Bucky?” You mumbled.

“Sorry, doll. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Bucky apologizes softly.

“It’s ok.” You rubbed your eyes and sat up, turning on the bedside lamp. “What are you doing up?” You asked.

Bucky walked over to the bed and sat down in front of you, putting his hands in yours.

“Remember when I told you about HYDRA?” He asks.

You nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“Well…” He starts in a shaky voice. “They found out I escaped and they threatened to hurt you if I don’t go back to them.” He explains.

“No.” You said, your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach. “Please don’t go back.” You pleaded, your voice cracking.

“I don’t want to go back, but I want you to be safe.” He says.

Bucky watched a tear roll down your cheek.

“It’s going to be ok, doll.” He whispers, pulling you in for a hug.

He let you cry it out for a few minutes before kissing you passionately. He wiped your tears away with his thumbs and looked deep in your eyes.

“I want you to know that I love you more than anything, babydoll.” He whispers.

“I love you too, Bucky.” You whispered back.

Bucky went back to HYDRA immediately. He didn’t want them to lay a finger on you so he did what they told him to do.

A few days later, you were staring at a positive pregnancy test. You were in shock that you didn’t know what to do at first. You didn’t even hear the bathroom door open.

“Y/N, are you ok?” Natasha asks softly.

You yelped and jumped when you heard her voice, dropping the pregnancy test on the bathroom floor. Natasha picked it up for you, her eyes widening when she seen that it’s positive.

“You’re pregnant?” She asks.

You nodded your head yes, nervously fiddling with your fingers. You were caught off guard when she hugged you. You hugged her back.

“Congratulations!” She smiles.

“Thank you, Nat.” You say quietly.

“Do you know who the father is?” She asks curiously.

“No.” You lied.

You then went to the conference room where Steve and the rest of the Avengers are. Natasha followed you behind you.

“Y/N has something to tell everyone.” Natasha says, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

The Avengers stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to you. You felt nervous as hell under their stares.

“I’m pregnant.” You announced to everyone.

Everyone jumped up from their seats to hug you and congratulate you. You smiled at them and thanked them.

“Do you know who the father is?” Steve asks.

“No.” You lied again.

You feel bad about lying to the Avengers about not knowing who the father is, but you don’t want them to know that it’s Bucky. Especially Steve. How do you tell your friend that you’re pregnant with his best friend’s baby? For now, you’re just going to keep it to yourself.

The Avengers were very helpful throughout your pregnancy. They got you what you need for the baby. They also set everything up in the nursery, putting girl stuff in there. When it was time for the baby to be born, Steve was right by your side during the whole thing. You had a baby girl and named her Lucy. Steve held her as you took a nap.

“You’re adorable.” Steve coos at Lucy, smiling down at her.

Steve hums to himself when he notices something interesting about Lucy.

“You know, you look like someone I knew years ago.” He says to her.

The more he looked at Lucy, the more he notices a resemblance of Bucky. His eyes widened.

No… could he be- no. Bucky fell off the train in 1945. He witnessed it.

4 YEARS LATER

The more Lucy grew and got older, she resembles Bucky even more. She just turned 4 and looks like a spitting image of him. Steve noticed it and it blew his mind how this little girl looks like his best friend. Lucy’s hair and eyes are the same colors as Bucky’s, along with her facial features.

“Are you sure you don’t know who the father is?” Steve asks you once more.

“I don’t know who he is.” You lied once again.

Steve didn’t want to keep badgering you on it so he dropped it. He still thought about his suspensions though.

If Bucky is alive, why didn’t he come find Steve? How did he even survive the fall off the train? No one can survive that.

“Uncle Steve!” Lucy shouts, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Steve smiles when he sees his niece running toward him. He picked her up and hugged her.

“I want to go to the park please.” She says, giving him her best puppy dog eyes.

“It’s too cold to go to the park, princess.” Steve says softly, referring to the snow outside.

Lucy huffed and crossed her arms over her chest with a pout on her face. Steve couldn’t help but smile at how cute she’s being.

“Why don’t you go color?” He suggests. “I have to talk to uncle Sam and aunt Natasha.” He says, gently putting her back down on the floor.

Lucy nods and runs to the lounge room where she left her coloring books and coloring supplies. Steve went to find Steve and Natasha, finding them in the conference room talking.

“Hey guys, I need your help with something.” Steve says.

“With what?” Sam asks.

“Tracking down someone.” He says.

“Who do you need to track down?” Natasha asks.

“My friend Bucky.” He says.

“I thought you said he fell off a train in 1945?” Sam says.

“I did, but now I’m thinking he somehow survived it.” He says.

“What makes you think that?” Natasha asks.

“Y/N’s daughter looks a lot like Bucky.” He says.

Sam and Natasha stared at Steve like he’s crazy.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I’m thinking that Bucky is Lucy’s father.” Steve says.

Sam’s and Natasha’s eyebrows shot up at his theory.

“Are you guys going to help me or not?” He asks.

Sam and Natasha agreed to help Steve. After a lot of research, Steve finally found the answers he was looking for. Bucky is alive and is hiding out in an apartment in Bucharest, Romania. Steve’s mind is blown. All this time, he thought his best friend was dead when he’s actually alive.

“Hey guys. Have you seen Lucy? It’s her lunchtime.” You say, poking your head in the conference room.

“She’s coloring in the lounge room.” Steve tells you.

After a couple days, Steve came up with a plan to get Bucky from Romania and bring him home. He told the Avengers to keep an eye on you so you didn’t suspect a thing. Steve was about to get on the quinjet, but Lucy stopped him before he could.

“Uncle Steve, where are you going?” Lucy asks before Steve got on the quinjet.

“I have something important to do.” Steve tells her.

“Is it a mission?” She asks curiously.

“Kinda.” He says.

“Can I come with you please?” She asks.

“I wish you could, but you can’t, sweetheart.” He says.

Lucy huffed loudly and crossed her arms over her chest with a pout on her face, sitting down on the floor. Steve crouched down in front of her.

“If it makes you feel better, I have a big girl mission for you.” Steve says.

“Big girl mission?” Lucy asks.

Steve smiles and nods.

“Your mission is to protect mommy till I get back.” He tells her.

“I can do that!” She says loudly.

Steve smiles and kissed the top of her head.

“I’ll be home before you know it, peanut.” He says, playfully ruffling her hair.

Lucy gave him a hug for good luck before running to find you. Steve smiles as he watched her to find you before getting on the quinjet.

“Mommy!” Lucy shouts throughout the compound.

“Yes, sweetie?” You say, walking out of the kitchen.

“I have a mission!” She announces, standing tall in front of you as if she were in the Army.

“Oh yea? What might that be?” You asked curiously.

“Uncle Steve gave me a big girl mission to protect while he’s gone.” She says.

“Ooh! I’m definitely going to be protected, princess.” You say.

“It’s Sergeant Princess!” She says.

“Oh, my apologies, Sarge.” You say, playfully saluting her.

Meanwhile, Steve found where Bucky is currently staying in Bucharest. The apartment Bucky has been staying is small, but it looks like he tried to make it as homey as he could. After a few minutes, Steve turned around to see Bucky standing a few feet behind him.

“Do you know who I am?” Steve asks.

Bucky stared at him silently for a few seconds before answering him.

“You’re Steve. I read about you in the museum.” Bucky finally answers.

Steve nods.

“I’m not here to fight you or anything. I’m here to bring you home where you belong.” Steve says.

“Where’s home?” Bucky asks.

“New York.” He says.

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m staying here.” He says.

Steve didn’t want to have to resort to you as an option, but it looks like he has no choice.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” Steve says.

“Y/N?” Bucky asks softly.

“Yes. Do you know her?” He asks curiously.

“Yes.” He said. “Is she ok?” He asks with worry in his voice.

“She’s more than ok, but she needs you more than you think.” He says softly.

“Take me to her.” He says.

Steve felt relieved that Bucky finally agreed to go home with him. Meanwhile, Lucy is being the mini Avenger Steve said she could be while he was gone. You, on the other hand, are curious to know why Steve went on a mission without any of the Avengers.

“Do you guys know why Steve went on a mission without any of you guys?” You asked the Avengers.

The didn’t say anything. They just shrugged their shoulders. You stared at them, narrowing your eyes a bit and crossed your arms over your chest, giving them the mom stare. They know that look all too well from when you give that look to Lucy.

“No matter how long you look at us like that, we’re not telling you where Steve went.” Tony says.

You sighed and went to see what your daughter is up to. You found Lucy in her bedroom playing with her stuffed animals and drawing on blank pieces of different colored construction paper.

“Hi, mommy!” Lucy smiles up at you. “Do you want to color with me?” She asks, holding up a piece of paper and a marker toward you.

“I would love to, sweetie.” You smiled.

You sat down on the floor across from her and started drawing doodles on the paper that Lucy handed you.

The next day, Steve brought Bucky to the compound. Bucky was nervous, but excited to see you.

“Sam, where’s Y/N?” Steve asks.

“She’s picking Lucy up from preschool. She should be back any minute.” Sam says.

“Who’s Lucy?” Bucky asks, looking from Sam to Steve.

Steve and Sam stayed quiet. Steve so desperately wanted to tell his best friend that Lucy is his daughter, but it’s not his place to tell him.

“Let’s just wait for Y/N.” Steve says.

You and Lucy walked in the lounge room a short moment later. You stopped in your tracks when you seen Bucky.

“Bucky?” You say, completely speechless.

“Hi, doll.” Bucky says softly and smiles.

You walked over to him and hugged him tightly. Bucky wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him. Tears of happiness rolled down your cheeks, along with Bucky. Lucy was standing a couple feet away in a state of confusion.

“Mommy, who is he?” Lucy asks, pointing at Bucky.

You pulled away from Bucky and looked at your daughter. Bucky looked at her too, his eyes widening when he noticed that Lucy is a spitting image of him. Steve and Sam left the room, leaving the three of you alone so you can explain everything to Bucky and Lucy.

“I owe everyone an explanation and I might as well start with you two.” You say.

Bucky and Lucy sat down on the couch while you stood in front of nervously and fiddled with your fingers. You took a deep breath before saying anything.

“Bucky, I found out I was pregnant with your baby shortly after you went back to HYDRA. Lucy is your daughter. She’s 4 years old.” You explained.

Bucky’s eyes went wide when you said that. He’s in complete shock from what he just heard. Lucy looked up at him with a curious look on her face.

“You’re my daddy?” Lucy asks.

“I guess I am.” Bucky says.

Lucy crawled onto Bucky’s lap and hugged him. Bucky hugged her back. He felt a new warmth in his heart. You smiled at the two of them as they hugged.

“I’ll let you guys get to know each other while I explain everything to everyone else.” You say.

You left the room and went to the conference room where all of the Avengers are. All of them turned their attention to you when you walked in the room.

“I owe all of you an explanation.” You said nervously. “This may be a surprise to all of you, especially Steve.” You began. “First of all, let me start off by apologizing for lying to all of you. I do know who Lucy’s father is and her father is Bucky. Before I got pregnant with Lucy, him and I were in love.” You explained.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Natasha asks.

“I don’t know.” You mumbled and shrugged.

You looked down to avoid eye contact with any of them. Steve walked over to you and hugged you.

“It’s ok. We understand.” Steve whispers.

“You do? You’re not mad at me?” You asked.

“I’m not mad.” He says softly.

You smiled and hugged him.

“Thanks for understanding.” You murmured. “I’m going to check on Lucy and Bucky.” You say.

You went back to the lounge room to see Lucy and Bucky getting along perfectly.

“I see you two are getting along very well.” You say.

“Me and daddy have the same color eyes!” Lucy says.

��That’s right, sweetie. You do.” You smiled.

You sat down on the couch next to Bucky.

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.” You apologized to Bucky.

“You don’t have to apologize, doll. I’m just happy you’re giving me a chance to be a father to Lucy.” Bucky says.

You smiled and pecked his lips softly.

“I love you, Bucky.” You murmured softly.

“I love you too, babydoll.” He whispers.

“I love you guys too!” Lucy chimes in.

“We love you, princess.” You and Bucky say in unison and gave her lovings.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

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ribcagecavityy · 1 month ago

Note

CRPs with a Pregnant! Female! Reader (including Lexi <3)

Like their darling joined the crew before finding out any teh pregnancy. Some can either be the parent or the baby is someone else's (prior to relationships bc some ppl don't find out Abt babies for months)

If you're possible!

Any CRPs you want!

Creepypasta X Pregnant!Female!Reader

Characters: Jeff The Killer, Eyeless Jack, Ticci Toby, Masky, Hoodie, Clockwork, Jane The Killer, Lexi Kills

Summary: You, the reader, discover you’re pregnant and tell your partner.

♡

Jeff The Killer

jeff never took anything seriously. not life, not consequences, not even you. everything with him felt temporary, like you were just something to pass the time. maybe that’s why it took you so long to tell him. maybe that’s why you had to ambush him just to get him to listen.

“what’s up, doll?” he flopped onto the couch, grinning lazily, but his hands twitched inside his hoodie pockets. restless.. or maybe just impatient.

“can you be serious for a second?” he rolled his eyes but nodded. “jeff… i’m—well, i’m pregnant.”

silence.

his grin lingered for half a second, like he thought it was a joke. then it dropped.

“shit.” his voice was flat, serious in a way you’d never heard before. “you forreal?”

“jeff-“ frustration tightened your throat. your eyes burned. “obviously i’m being serious!”

his hands shot up defensively. “woah, okay.” then, hesitantly, they found your shoulders. “hey, come on, don’t cry. we’ll, uh, we’ll deal with this. come here.”

he pulled you in, his arms locking around you, his lips pressing against the top of your head. his chest rose and fell too fast. he was terrified.

Eyeless Jack

jack was always attentive. always doting. even though it had only been a few weeks, even though you had barely done anything, he treated you like you hung the stars. so when you started getting sick every morning, he tore the place apart trying to figure out what was wrong.

he paced outside the bathroom, restless, waiting. the second the door creaked open, he snapped to attention, still as stone.

“so?” his voice was urgent.

you stepped out, silent. then, “it’s positive.”

jack snatched the test from your hands, holding it close to his mask, inspecting it like he thought he might’ve read it wrong.

“but we haven’t…” his voice trailed off. then, he said quietly, “…oh.”

“i’m sorry, jack,” your stomach twisted, wishing you could see his face, to see his reaction. “you didn’t sign up for this…”

he looked up suddenly. “are you kidding? i’ve always wanted to be a dad.”

Ticci Toby

broken people always seemed to find each other. that was true for you and toby. something about being together had healed you both, in ways you didn’t even realize you needed. you understood each other. no one else ever really had.

but finding out you were pregnant was the first time you had ever been truly afraid that he might leave.

“toby.” your voice came out weaker than you intended.

he turned immediately, crunching back toward you through the leaves, his head tilting in concern. “w-what’s up, baby?”

your breath trembled, your fists clenching at your sides. “i’m pregnant.”

his hand, just about to touch you, froze mid-air. then he stumbled back. his goggles were ripped up in an instant, his mouthguard yanked down as he struggled for air. he doubled over, his breaths short and sharp. for a second, you saw it, shock. brief excitement. then, crushing over everything else, doom.

“toby?” your voice was barely above a whisper. you reached for him. he stepped back.

“i-i can’t—” his hands flew to his face, gripping at his hair as he turned away, pacing. “no—i-i can’t, i ca-can’t be h-him.”

your heart ached. you lunged forward, grabbing his arm, pulling him back before he could spiral further.

“you won’t be.” your voice was firm, your grip unwavering. “you’re better than that.”

his wide, panicked brown eyes locked onto yours. then, slowly—his whole body collapsed against you. his lungs heaved, his fingers clutching onto you like a lifeline.

Masky

in your relationship, there were always three. you, masky, and slenderman. whatever that thing wanted, it got. no matter what you were doing, no matter where you were, masky would drop everything and go like a soldier answering a call to war. you hated it. he hated it. he hated that he had no control. and he hated himself for dragging you into it, for putting you in danger. so when you found out, you already knew how this would go.

“i have something to tell you.” you stood in the doorway, gripping the frame like it could keep you steady.

“can it wait?” masky asked, his voice muffled behind the mask as he cocked his gun. “i need to go.”

“no.” but he was already at the door. you had to move fast, had to grab his arm to make him stop. “masky- tim. i’m pregnant.”

silence. long. suffocating.

“…what?” his voice was quiet. miserable.

“i’m pregnant.” you repeated, softer this time. but he’d heard you the first time.

his fingers twitched. his eyes, brown and distant behind the mask, flickered with something unreadable.

“i—” his throat bobbed. “i can’t. i’m not putting a kid through this. let alone mine.”

your breath caught. “what-? are… are you leaving?” your voice broke, tears rising fast.

“i can’t do this.” his voice cracked too, just a little. his eyes blurred. “i’m sorry.”

the door slammed shut behind him. you didn’t move. didn’t breathe. just stood there, staring at the space where he used to be.

Hoodie

hoodie was quiet. always had been. he didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to—he showed you he loved you in the little things. the way he always made sure you ate. the way he pulled you closer in his sleep. the way he tried, so hard, to keep you away from all of this. he wanted to protect you. and for the most part, he did. but the idea of losing him still terrified you.

you stepped outside, finding him on the steps, a cigarette between his fingers. his mask was pulled up just enough to let him smoke. you sat beside him, weaving your arm through his. he turned slightly at the contact, his lips twitching like he was about to smile.

“hi.” you murmured. he huffed a quiet laugh. “i have something to tell you.”

he turned, stubbing out his cigarette before pulling his mask back down. then he faced you.

“we’re having a baby.”

his whole body tensed. you squeezed your eyes shut, hating the way your chest tightened at his silence. but then his hands, warm and steady, cupped the sides of your face. his fingers threaded through your hair, gentle, deliberate. your eyes fluttered open, finding his mask inches from your face, his touch grounding you.

“really?” he said softly, his voice warm enough to melt the fear inside you. “that’s great.”

Clockwork

being with clockwork was the most fun you’d ever had. even in such a short time, she had turned your whole world upside down. she was reckless in the best way—sarcastic in a way that always made you laugh, drove too fast, lived too fast. but you could keep up. until you couldn’t. you didn’t know why, not at first. then you took the test.

“shit!” your heart pounded as you stared at the result.

“let me see!” before you could stop her, clockwork burst into the bathroom, snatching the test from your hands. you yelped, but she ignored you, narrowing her eyes at the two bold lines staring back at her. “shit indeed.”

you searched her face, waiting for something. panic. regret. maybe even fear. instead…

“guess we gotta get one of those baby on board stickers, huh?”

“nat, be serious!” you snatched the test back, your hands shaking. “you, a baby, and a car should never be a combination that exists, anyway.”

“hey, i’m trying to be supportive!” she huffed, throwing her hands up. then she exhaled, rolling her shoulders back, composing herself. when she looked at you again, her green eye was soft. “okay.” she took your hands, squeezing them. “we’ve got this. we’ll handle this. i love you.”

the breath you’d been holding finally escaped. “i love you too.”

Jane The Killer

jane was the most responsible person you had ever met. it showed in everything she did. especially when it came to you. she made sure you ate, kept up with your tasks, got places on time. but more than anything, she loved you. even in the short time you’d been together, she loved you fully. so when you found out you were pregnant, because of something so irresponsible, you were terrified to tell her. you weren’t sure you could.

“hello, my love.” her voice was soft as she came up behind you, resting her chin on your shoulder. her hands followed, gliding down your shoulders, pressing lightly against your arms. she was examining you, the way she always did. “why are you tense?”

your throat tightened. you gripped the windowsill. “i have something to tell you.”

jane immediately spun you around, her black eyes sharp, scanning you like she could find the answer herself. “what happened?”

“i messed up.” you choked, the words barely out before the tears followed. “i’m pregnant.”

jane stilled. “oh.” her voice was unreadable for a second. then she took a breath, steadied herself. “how far along?”

“three months.” you sniffled, swiping at your tears.

jane exhaled slowly. her shoulders relaxed. you blinked at her in confusion. then it clicked. you had only been together for two.

“come here.” she said. she pulled you into her arms, holding you tight. “it’s going to be okay. i’ve got you.”

Lexi Kills

lexi was always hard to read. always distant. always somewhere else, even when she was right in front of you. the only reason you were together at all was because, once, just once, she had been vulnerable. so telling her wasn’t easy.

“lex’?” you walked up to where she was polishing her axe on the porch.

“mhm?” she barely replied.

“i…” you wanted her attention, but you scarcely got it unless you demanded it, “um… so.. i’m pregnant.”

she reacted like you had hit her. her body jerked, her green eyes snapping to yours, wide and startled. for a second, she just stared. then she stood, searching your face like she didn’t trust what she heard.

“really?” her voice was cautious.

“yes.” your own voice was barely above a whisper, your shoulders shaking as you fought to hold back tears.

she didn’t look away. “i’m bad with kids.” her eyes were sharp, unreadable.

“you don’t have to-” but before you could finish, a tear slipped free. she moved instantly. her arms locked around you, so tight you could barely breathe.

“don’t be an idiot,” she murmured, her fingers threading through your hair, holding you closer. “and don’t cry, either. we’ll be fine.”

♡

hehe i had so much fun doing this one, tysm for the idea :3

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grimespial · 10 months ago

Text

Too Sweet

Carl Grimes x Shane's Son Male reader

slightly aged up just for plot reasons

You did not have a good relationship with your dad.

He was practically two different people in public and private. In private you were mostly ignored, but if you weren't, then you were just a disappointment.

All because of Carl and Lori Grimes.

Nothing you could do would make him proud, he would throw you away in the blink of an eye if it meant taking Rick's place.

You and Carl used to get along, but you couldnt help but push him away, atleast it could be played off with you being older and teen moods.

Rick tried to include you, he was more of a dad to you than Shane, talking, playing, sports, just spending time but it just hurt.

So when the apocalypse starts, it's not a suprise you just happen to be left.

You somehow made your way to a farm, hoping it would be abandoned, but of course it wasn't and a woman on a horse came at you.

That's how you ended up joining the Greene family. It was hard. You actually got cared for, you practically were adopted

But then a boy was shot and Hershel had to help, and of course the people you honestly never wanted to see again had to show up.

Rick almost choked you with the hug he gave, Shane wasn't back yet, still out with Otis. The man who was teaching you to hunt with a gun because a knife won't always work.

Your dad came back, alone. You were already Maggie and Beth's brother, but Otis was like an older brother. And now he's gone.

When Carl woke up, Rick with all good intent, told him you were here. You would think it was magic how quickly he healed enough to go looking for you.

He was so insistent. Didn't matter how much you walked away, or replied rudely, he would just follow you everywhere.

For Carl, it was worth getting shot, because now you're back! He missed how you two hung out and when everything went down he didn't think he would ever see you again.

Everything was horrible with Shane, his whole group didn't even know you existed, even worse when they thought Shane was Carl's dad at the very beginning.

The Greene family were on edge around Shane, sometimes even getting hostile if he started crossing the line against their brother and son.

Rick had to step in and tell Shane to leave you alone until they found Sophia, because Hershel warned him they'd get kicked out if it continued.

Your relationship progressed without you or Carl noticing, but everyone else did.

Carl included you in everything, and included himself in anything you did.

It was hard to get over the jealousy, but with Shane gone and how Carl seemed so happy to spend time with you, like you were the greatest thing in the world, it was easier to heal.

Maggie was having the time of her life teasing you, hypocritical considering her and Glenn can't leave eachother alone.

What pushed you two to date was when Lori died. Daryl asked you to look after Carl, so you did. Spending time in his cell, getting him outside for some fresh air, just talking to him.

When he wanted some private time, you cared for Judith instead. Hershel joked that neither you or Beth should think about having a baby antime soon.

Maggie, humorous as always, told him there was no worry on your side unless Carl could get pregnant.

It was later when Carl came out of his cell, you were still looking after Judith while Beth made milk and Glenn helped Maggie make some food.

That night, you stayed up with Carl. He was struggling to sleep lately, so you stayed up until he fell asleep. This night he just started crying.

So you just hugged him. Nobody spoke. The only sound was Carl hiccuping and breathing while you wrapped your arm around his shoulder.

When Carl quieted down, he turned to see you, but you were already looking at him. And you were close.

It was easier to push away any feelings before, there was no time to think over feelings, more important things were happening.

But here you were face to face and before you knew it Carl kissed you.

Carl is practically your owner and you're the guard dog. Stubborn is your middle name, but one whisper of your name from Carl and you listen.

He never gets over the butterflies or blushing, you hold his hand and he's practically burning and trying to hold his smile back.

You constantly were protecting him. There was technically no need, he could take care of himself perfectly fine, but you insisted on it.

Sometimes it got annoying to him and he'd snap, Rick would end up explaining that you just care for him and dont want him to get hurt.

It's free entertainment for the adults watching you two go through a relationship.

You both sneak away from the group to make out, but when youre on the road its harder and Carl really doesn't want to make out in front of anyone, especially his dad.

You do end up breaking that rule one day, you were with Michonne after the prison fell, and when you found him you both just ran to eachother.

Cuddles are mandatory.

You have to be watched when eating, because you will just give Carl your food if it means he's healthier, Carl was not happy when he found this out.

Carl loves being pampered by you but he'll pretend he doesn't, but if you can't for whatever reason it doesn't feel right.

this is based off the Carl fic i have with the same premise, i might end up putting it on ao3...

#top male reader #male reader #x male reader #twd x male reader #x male top reader #x male oc #twd x you #twd x reader #twd fluff #twd fic #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x you #carl grimes x male reader

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fanfictionalraven · 1 year ago

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Dream Warriors Masterlist (Complete)

Summary: You close your eyes to fall asleep in the master bedroom of the beautiful home you share with your husband, Jackson Rawlings and your daughter Ella. When you open them again, you’re in the bunker, in the room you share with the love of your life Dean Winchester. Two separate worlds, two very different lives. Both worlds feel equally real. But which one is?

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, other Supernatural characters, other original characters

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, mentions of a miscarriage, infidelity, canon-typical violence and peril, implied smut

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

#fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #supernatural #spn #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #sam x jessica #cas #castiel #john winchester #mary winchester #dad!dean

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justagalwhowrites · 8 months ago

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Stranger in a Bar - Part Two

You realize your hookup from the night before is your dad's best friend. Life goes on from there. The conclusion of Stranger in a Bar, found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: This is smut, OK? Just a lot of smut. Protected P in V sex. Oral sex (f receiving). Age gap of 20 years. Breeding kink if you squint. Talk of pregnancy. ANGST BECAUSE IT'S ME. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 10.6k

AO3 | Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | Part One

“She hasn’t been home in so long,” your father was smiling proudly, seemingly oblivious to the way Joel was looking at you.

It had never occurred to him that he’d never seen a picture of his friend’s daughter. He’d heard about you, of course. How your parents had gone to Tennessee for your college graduation, how you’d gotten a job in Memphis, how you only really came to visit about once a year and that meant your dad was busy that week.

“Heard a lot about you,” Joel said when he realized your dad had gone quiet. “Good to… put a face to the name. Or, maybe, idea? Don’t think your dad ever mentioned your name…”

“May not have,” he laughed, clapping Joel on the shoulder. Joel still couldn’t take his eyes off you. Fuck, this was bad. “To me, she’s just my little princess…”

“Honey,” your mom appeared at your dad’s side, looping her arm through his. “Can I steal you for just a minute?”

“Sure,” he gave her hand a squeeze before looking between you and Joel. “Keep her outta trouble, will ya? Have fun!”

Joel more sensed them leave than watched them, his eyes locked on yours. He was pretty sure they were out of earshot when you spoke.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“‘Fraid not,” Joel said, his eyes drifting down over your body before he could really help himself. Your dress fit you perfectly, highlighting your every soft curve. He knew just what you looked like below it, just how smooth your skin was, just how you would taste. “You look… fuck, you look gorgeous.”

Your eyebrows shot up.

“Are you…” You closed your eyes and shook your head. “Never mind. This isn’t happening. This cannot be happening.”

“It’s not…” he finally managed to look away from you to glance around at the people around the two of you. None of them seemed to be paying attention. He lowered his voice, anyway. “It’s not that bad…”

“Not that bad?” You cut him off. “Are you… Jesus, come on.”

You looked around, too, before grabbing his wrist and dragging him out of the tent and toward the house. He just trailed along behind you, fighting the urge to smile while keeping an eye out for your parents. Because the last thing he wanted to do was explain to your father what he was doing, following wherever you led.

And he did follow you - happily - into the house he’d been in plenty of times as a dinner guest or for Super Bowl parties or to help your father put together a new piece of furniture for your mother. You dragged him along to the sizable storage room off the garage and locked the door behind you before turning and staring daggers at him.

“Not that bad?” You asked, brows raised so high they threatened to disappear into your hairline. “Not that bad? You’re my dad’s best friend! I didn’t even know he had one of those until this afternoon and I -” you looked around, as though someone might have been lurking, and lowered your voice to a harsh whisper “fucked him before I knew he existed! How is this not that bad?”

“You in the habit of telling your daddy everyone you sleep with?” Joel asked, hands in his pockets. “Because I ain’t one to kiss and tell.”

“This is a joke to you, isn’t it,” you crossed your arms, clearly pissed. But the effect was lessened a bit by the way your angry pants and fierce stance made your breasts swell and fuck, but you were pretty. “What, you make a habit of fucking women young enough to be your friend’s daughter?”

“No,” Joel said with a shrug. “Don’t make a habit of fucking anyone, really. Told you, I’m outta practice. And… well, can’t say I’ve ever… well…”

“Ever?” Your eyebrows somehow got higher.

“Ever been with someone as young as you,” he said, his cheeks getting hot at the shame of that. “Didn’t set out to, either. Not until I saw you.”

You relaxed a little then, your brows returning to a much more natural position on your face.

“I didn’t go to that bar looking for someone,” he continued. “And I sure as shit never go chasing after women half my age. Sure as shit ain’t proud I did it last night, either. But… can’t say I really care much about any of that. I don’t care that you’re too young for me, don’t care that you live hundreds of miles away, don’t even care that you’re my best friend’s kid. Lord knows I should care about all that but I don’t. All I really care about in all that is you.”

Your eyes searched his for a moment, like you were trying to tell if he was lying or not. You stepped closer to him and he resisted the urge to touch you, the pull stronger than he remembered it being in the past. He wasn’t sure if it was because it had been years since he’d been with someone, if it was because he could tell from the first moment he saw you that you were special, if it was because sex with you was the best he’d ever had. But, he supposed, it didn’t really matter. Not when you were this close, in that dress, when he could still remember how you tasted on his tongue. He knew he should give a shit, he knew he should at least do your father the courtesy of feeling bad but all he could feel was the drive to touch you - taste you - again.

You held his gaze until your lips were so close to his your noses brushed and he kissed you then, your mouth so plush and soft on his.

It had been so long since Joel had done anything like this. He hadn’t exactly dated much when his daughter was at home. He tried, a bit, when she was in her teens but he ended up wishing he was spending time with her instead of trying to get to know someone he only had a passing interest in.

When Sarah moved out to go to college - not community college anymore but Texas A&M - he didn’t have the same excuse anymore. But, when he tried to meet someone then, he found himself trying to force connections with women. They had little in common with him, they wanted different things out of life, they were just interested in things he couldn’t offer. After a few, unsatisfying and brief relationships - if you could even call them that - he’d given up on it. His life was meant to be quiet and lonely. He had Sarah and that was more than enough, even if she lived in Dallas now. He was fine with it. Happy, even.

And then, there you were, so beautiful in that bar, something about you pulling him in. He couldn’t help but go up to you, couldn’t help but talk to you for hours, couldn’t help but walk you back to your hotel, couldn’t help but kiss you back in that elevator.

He couldn’t help but kiss you now.

His hands went to your waist, slipping over your sides to your back, spreading wide over you to hold as much of you as he could, pulling your body against his own. You moaned softly into his mouth and put your arms around his neck when he did and he could feel every line of you against him, could remember just what those lines felt like when there was nothing between you.

If he was in his own head enough, he would have been embarrassed about just how fast he got hard against you, embarrassed about how quickly he gave in to the urge to grind his cock into you while remembering just what it felt like to be buried inside of you. But he couldn’t bring himself to give a fuck about anything beyond just how good you felt pressed all tight and desperate against him.

He guided you back until your ass was against a stack of plastic storage tubs, bins labeled with things like “Christmas” and “Halloween” that he’d helped your dad haul into the living room when your mom was ready to change the decor around the house. Your hands left him for a moment and you pulled yourself on top of the top bin, putting your hips at the same height as Joel’s own. You spread your legs wide and pulled him into you, grinding your pussy against his cock through his jeans and he had to fight not to come then and there. Your arms went back around his neck and your kiss grew messy, the both of you fighting to devour the other. Joel’s mouth slid over your lips to your chin, down your jaw to your throat and you moaned, arching your back. His hands moved to your thighs, forcing your skirt up and out of the way until your slick-soaked panties were pressed against his fly.

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted softly, grinding that hot little pussy over his still clothed length. His hands skimmed over your sides to find your breasts, cupping the full, soft warmth of you there. Your fingers sank into his back, nails digging into him. “Please…”

“Not a good idea,” he said, kissing back up your neck, leaving his mouth against the tender skin at the base of your ear. “Don’t got a condom.”

He nipped your lobe and kissed over your cheek toward your mouth again.

“I don’t care,” you said, breathless. “I don’t care, I just need you, fuck, please, please…”

He groaned. He should resist you. He should, he knew better. But the way you tasted, the way you felt against him, just the thought of being inside you with nothing between you and him was making his head swim.

“Don’t think I’ll be able to pull out, baby,” he said, kissing you all wet and sloppy and without control. “You felt too damn good with somethin’ on, I can’t…”

“I don’t care,” you said again, pulling back from him just enough to look in his eyes, reaching your hand up to card your fingers through his graying hair. Your skin was almost glowing in the dim light, your eyes ranging over him, pupils blown. “I want you, please, Joel.”

“Jesus,” he breathed, reaching quickly down to unbuckle his belt and open his pants. He pulled his cock free, his head swollen and leaking. He stroked himself - not that it offered any relief and it wasn’t possible to make him any harder - with one hand and watched with hungry eyes as he traced the the seam of you through your wet panties with the other, the fabric clinging to the plush softness of you. He couldn’t help but groan a little as he tucked the cotton to the side, revealing you all plump and dripping for him.

He watched, his breath shaky, as he moved closer, trailing his cock head over your slit before slipping just inside your entrance. He just stood there for a moment, his heart beating out a frantic rhythm against his ribs, looking at where he was starting to disappear into you and he was mesmerized by it. The way you had to stretch to take even just the head of him, the way you took him so well anyway, the way you felt inside, the heat of you on his skin.

“Joel,” you whimpered, your hand clutching onto his bicep, his shirt twisting in your fingers.

“Baby,” his voice was rough, raspy. He’d be embarrassed about how needy he sounded if he could bring himself to give a shit about anything but how you felt inside. “Fuck, you already feel fuckin’ incredible and I’m not even really inside you yet…”

He finally pulled his eyes away from where the two of you met to find your face, your eyes so wide and pleading. He took you in his hand, his thumb on your cheek, your fingers reaching back to grip tight to your neck, holding you just so. You stretched to kiss him but he kept you in place, your eyebrows drawing together as you moaned in protest.

“Gotta be quiet, pretty girl,” he whispered. “And sit still, just let me look at you.”

He watched you closely as pressed into you, your breath hitching as he parted your inner walls, your tight, wet heat gripping him and he savored every needy expression that crossed your face. You were so beautiful like this, your mouth open in a silent gasp, eyes wide, looking like you were enjoying him almost as much as he was enjoying you.

Because there was no possible way it could be equal, there was no way he felt as good as you did. You’d felt fucking exquisite with a condom on the night before, it had only taken Joel a second inside you to decide that this could not be a one time thing. He couldn’t feel something that good only once in his life, he’d spend the rest of his years searching for it otherwise. It was the cherry on top of the perfection that seemed to be you, someone he wanted to spend hours upon hours talking with and hours upon hours looking at. The way your body took him into yourself, the way you pulsed around him when you came, the way you were so goddamn soft inside. How was he supposed to just walk away from that?

But, as Joel’s cock was buried inside you to the root, he realized that nothing - absolutely fucking nothing - compared to being inside you bare. He could feel you so clearly like this, every ridge of muscle, every little gush of come as you made a mess of his cock. You were so fucking tight he wondered how he’d even fit inside you. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt anything quite as warm and soft as you and he knew he’d never felt quite so close to anyone like he did you in that moment.

“Goddamn baby,” he breathed, his eyes locked on yours, not moving from his place inside you.

“Joel,” you whispered before looking down to where your bodies where joined and groaning when you did.

“Gotta stay quiet, pretty girl,” he said softly, wrapping an arm around you, his hand splaying wide over the small of your back. He held you in place and ground himself deeper into you, making you whimper.

“Fuck me,” you panted, desperate. “Please Joel, I need you to move, I need you to fuck me, please…”

He crumbled under your pleas, pulling back from you agonizingly slowly so that he could feel every part of you clinging to him before thrusting back inside you in one devastating go. You moaned as he did, loud enough that he was worried someone might hear. He kissed you to keep you quiet and your arms went around his neck, your fingers digging into him as you clung to him. But he couldn’t keep kissing you forever, not when the drive to fuck you harder was so strong, and he had to separate from you to gasp for breath as his cock plunged into you again and again. You moaned, desperate and needy and uncontrolled and Joel couldn’t even consider stopping to keep you quiet. Instead, he pulled you tight to him, tucking your head against his shoulder so your sounds were muffled by his body.

“Said you gotta keep quiet baby,” he whispered in your ear, fucking into you. “Fuck… you feel too damn good, won’t be able to stop just because someone comes in.”

Your muffled moans grew louder and you clutched onto him and he held you closer, tighter, the sharp snap of his hips never slowing or even stuttering. He felt like a man possessed as he savored the hot clutch of you. He’d never needed to fuck someone like this, never wanted to live inside another person like this. How was he supposed to move on from this, from you? When he’d never found anything that made him feel like this, so obsessed he couldn’t keep himself from fucking you hard and fast and unprotected under your father’s roof.

His orgasm was building fast, faster than he really wanted it to. There was the nagging thought at the back of his mind - the last part of him that seemed to exist outside the sphere of your influence - that he should pull out at the very least. He didn’t know if you were on the pill but part of him didn’t fucking care. Part of him wanted to fill you up and take everything that came with it, as long as he got to keep coming in you again and again the rest of it didn’t matter.

You started mumbling into his shoulder, your words incoherent around the fabric of his shirt and the bulk of his body and he pulled your head back just enough that he could make out what you were saying, just “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come” over and over and over and the sound went straight to his cock.

He felt it then, you drawing so tight around him, the sensation intimately familiar after the night before, and then you exploded around him, throbbing hard and full, damn near pulling his own orgasm out of his body as he groaned against you. He didn’t do the smart thing, he didn’t pull out. Instead, he reveled in the feeling as he came deep inside you, buried to the root .

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted against him as your climax eased, sounding closer to sane now than you had the last few minutes.

“I know, baby,” he said, breathless too, still deep within you. You pulled back from him ever so slightly, your eyes wide as they searched his face, your lipstick smeared over your skin.

“Fuck, Joel,” you said again, but different this time, an edge of panic in your voice. You put your hand to his chest, leaning back from him and looking down to where you were still joined. “What the fuck did we just do?”

“Nothin’ bad…” he said quietly but you looked back to him, your gaze fiery now. He pulled out of you slowly, reluctantly, and tucked himself away.

“Nothing bad?” You asked, brows raised. “We just fucked in my parents’ house! I barely fucking know you and you just… I just begged you to… Jesus Christ…”

Joel winced at that.

“I can go get you one of those pills…” he said weakly. He hoped that was the right thing to say in a moment like this one. He hadn’t been in this position in so long, he wasn’t the type to just randomly fuck a woman and he sure as hell wasn’t the type to do so with no regard for the consequences. He’d learned that lesson well enough in his youth. Here he was, middle aged and fucking you like some teenager in heat, sneaking around behind your parents’ backs.

“What?” You shook your head once, sharply, like you were trying to shake him from your mind. “No, I have an IUD, but I don’t know you, you could have… I don’t fucking know, herpes or something!”

Joel almost laughed. Not that anything about this was actually funny but it was… something.

“I don’t got anything like that,” Joel said. “You’re safe, promise.”

You looked to jump down from your perch on the storage bins but slipped a hand down between your legs first and groaned before looking around.

“Do you see any paper towel or anything?” You asked, holding your hand covered in his come and yours in front of you, your combined slick pearly on your fingers.

Joel swallowed.

“No,” he said. “But… here…”

He untucked his shirt and nudged your legs wider apart, forcing your dress further up your thighs, revealing your slit to him. He resisted the urge to groan at the sight, his spend leaking from you because he’d left it deep inside…

He shook himself mentally and took the hem of his button down shirt, pressing it to your dripping hole, cleaning you gently. You leaned back on your hands and he could feel your eyes on him as he delicately ran the fabric over your soft skin. He was about to step back when he heard you moan, needy and wanting, and he realized he could see your clit, swollen and peeking out from your wet sex.

“Fuck,” you breathed and he looked up to your face. Your eyes were closed, your mouth open in pleasure.

“You like that?” He asked, his voice heavier than he’d meant it to be. Fuck, he shouldn’t be doing this. But you nodded, quick and desperate, and he couldn’t resist. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

He knelt in front of you, looping his arms around your knees and pulling you sharply to the front edge of the storage bin before licking a hesitant stripe from your entrance to your sensitive nub. You groaned at that and he saw your fingers curl around the edge of the bin, knuckles tight.��

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you panted and he smiled a little before diving into your pussy like a man starved.

He licked and sucked and ate at you, his tongue delving into your tight channel, his nose pressed against your swollen clit, his fingers pressing tightly into the meat of your thighs. Your hand flew to his hair, knotting and tangling in his curls, your nails digging into his scalp as you ground your hips against his face. You were moaning louder and he knew he should give a fuck, try to keep you quiet while he worked you to yet another orgasm in your father’s house, but he just didn’t care. All he cared about was making you come so hard you damn near took off his tongue.

He didn’t need to wait long, your pussy growing tighter and tighter until you cried out, your hips pressed against him and he savored the way your body clutched onto him as you came. Your channel pulsed hard and strong and he drank down your slick, not caring that it mingled with his own come from just a few minutes before.

Joel waited until your climax eased before he pulled his tongue from your body, pressing a lingering kiss over the top of your slit, making you groan.

“Holy shit,” you panted and he got to his feet in front of you, wiping his mouth awkwardly with the back of his wrist.

“Sorry,” he said, glancing quickly at your still slightly swollen sex. It was no longer dripping, at least. “That… that ain’t what I’d set out to do…”

“Never apologize for that,” you said, sitting up properly this time. You slipped off the storage bin. You rearranged your underwear below your dress before adjusting the hem, looking down at yourself like you were trying to make sure you didn’t look like you’d just been fucked within an inch of your life.

“Here,” Joel said, thankful that his shirt was black so your lipstick that was undoubtably on his shoulder wouldn’t show. He took the cuff that hadn’t wiped your slick from his face and carefully cleaned your smeared lipstick from your skin. “Sorry, didn’t mean to do that, either…”

“It’s not your fault,” you said, crossing your arms and looking him up and down. “I was literally begging for it. There’s just something about you… but that’s why we can’t do this, Joel. You’re my dad’s best friend, he’d never forgive us for this. We have to pretend like this never happened. Not tonight, not last night, none of it.”

He just watched you for a moment. Part of him knew you were right. You were right for more reasons than just that, too. He hadn’t really dated in years, he hadn’t been in a good place to do it in ages and he sure as hell wasn’t in a place to date someone as young as you. You’d want things out of life that he was long past, things he could never give you. He should know better than this.

But that didn’t change the fact that he wanted you. He wanted to fuck you again, yeah, but he also wanted to get to know you, to make you dinner and take you to the beach and kiss you at midnight on New Year’s Eve. You’d woken something up in him that he didn’t know he still had, something he thought had died along with his youth years before. Wasn’t something like you worth risking a friendship for? Even one like the one he had with your father?

“We have to stay away from each other the rest of the night,” you said. “Alright?”

He looked at you for a moment, at the drawn expression on your face.

“Yeah,” he said after the silence hung in the air a bit too long. “Yeah, alright.”

The two of you made your way back toward the celebration, thankfully no one in the house to have heard the sounds he pulled form you, anyway. Joel tried not to stare at you the rest of the night but he found himself keenly aware of where you were all the time, anyway. He knew where you were and who you were with and just how far he’d have to move to pull you into his arms and kiss you.

“Joel!” His friend clapped him on the shoulder as he sat at a table, drinking a beer and trying to not pay attention to where you were - something he was failing at because, at the moment, you were standing by your mother and your sister near the buffet. “Havin’ a nice time?”

“Oh, yeah,” Joel cleared his throat awkwardly as he sat beside him. “It’s a great party. Y’all deserve it, too, hell of an accomplishment, puttin’ up with each other that long…”

“Tell me about it,” he laughed. “God, sometimes… See you didn’t bring a date, was hopin’ you’d be out on the dance floor with some lucky lady at least a little bit.”

“Yeah, well,” Joel shrugged. “Don’t really got anyone to bring to someone like this and…”

“Still,” he cut Joel off. “Should get out there… Princess! C’mere!”

He raised his hand and flagged you down and Joel stiffened. Your eyes darted from his to your father’s before you made your way across the tent, your hands in fists at your sides.

“You really don’t need to…” Joel began but your father cut him off again.

“S’no trouble,” he said. “It’ll be good for her, too. Tells her mama everything, hasn’t had a boyfriend in who knows how long, she needs to do a little dancing…”

“Yes, Dad?” You asked, steadfastly ignoring Joel.

“Do me a favor, Princess, and get this old man on the dance floor, would ya?” He clapped Joel on the back. “He’s been sittin’ here alone way too long, think he needs a little nudge…”

“Oh, I… I don’t,” you began.

“Really don’t need…” Joel said.

“Nonsense!” Your dad said. “C’mon! You two - two of my favorite people - have been sittin’ off to the sides of this shindig all night. Make me happy, get out there for me.”

You looked at Joel half pleading, half resigned.

“Yeah, alright,” Joel said, getting up and setting his beer on the table. Your father got up, too.

“Good man!” He patted him firmly between the shoulder blades. “You two have fun!”

Joel offered you his hand and you took it before he led you to the dance floor, your body tense and separated firmly from his own. The music shifted just as the two of you got there, The Way You Look Tonight starting to play and Joel almost groaned. Might as well put a neon sign over his head, flashing “I want to fuck her” in bright red.

He took you in his arms all the same, leaving a respectable, painful distance between the two of you as he started to sway with you on the dance floor.

“I’m sorry about this,” you said quietly after a moment. “I don’t know what his problem is, besides the fact that he’s had too much to drink.”

“S’OK,” Joel said. His hand was at the small of your back and he knew just how soft your skin was there. “I don’t… It’s nice. Dancin’ with you.”

You smiled a little.

“It’s nice dancing with you, too.”

You looked at him differently then. Your eyes were softer, your body less stiff and it reminded Joel of the night before, when you were just a stranger in a bar and you smiled and talked and laughed with him for hours.

“I wish things were different,” you said quietly, eyes searching his. “I know we just met but… I mean, if I lived closer, if…”

“If I wasn’t your daddy’s friend?” He asked, giving you a crooked smile.

You laughed a little.

“Yeah, that little snag,” you said. “If life was different… I think I’d like to figure some of it out with you, Joel.”

The song wound down and he knew his time with you was numbered.

“Think I’d like to figure it out with you, too.”

He wanted to kiss you then and, if you were any other woman or in any other place, he would have. But instead, the music ended and he forced himself to stop touching you and he stood, in the middle of the dance floor, other couples flowing around him as he watched you walk away from him and back toward your family.

Joel seriously considered getting hammered when he got home that night. Drinking himself into oblivion seemed like the kindest thing he could do to himself but he couldn’t bring himself to risk losing the memory of dancing with you like that. Instead, he lay flat on his back in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, etching every part of you into his mind as best he could because, goddammit, the last day had to have existed for something, right? A bright spot in what had become a lonely life, something he could look back on with fondness when shit didn’t go the way he wanted.

But, before too long, he knew that wouldn’t be enough.

He got up, not bothering to get changed, just staying in his plaid pajama pants and threadbare band t-shirt and drove to your hotel. He remembered your room number and, only after he’d knocked on your door, did he realize what he’d done. He had, without calling or texting or anything that was actually fucking sensible, shown up at your door at - he glanced at his watch - one in the fucking morning.

“Shit,” he said to himself, already moving to go when your door opened.

“Joel?” You frowned a little, looking him up and down. “What are you…”

“This was stupid,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this, I should’ve just…”

You reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from leaving and he blinked in surprise.

“Did you want to come in or not?” You asked, brows raised.

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly. “Yeah, I do.”

And you smiled and took his hand, leading him into your room.

***

Six Months Later

“This feels like tempting fate,” you muttered as you did your hair in the mirror over Joel’s dresser.

“Nah,” he waved you off as he lounged, shirtless, on the bed. “It’ll be fine. Think we can manage to keep our hands to ourselves for a few hours.”

You scoffed at that. If you could, that would be a fucking first.

In the six months since you and Joel had decided to make a go of it - damn all the reasons that you shouldn’t - you’d been happier than you could ever remember being. He’d been to visit you in Tennessee twice and you’d met up in New Orleans once but this was your first time back home since you’d decided that dating your father’s best friend wasn’t a total lost cause.

When you were together, you spent obscene amounts of time in bed. He made you come more than anyone else you’d ever been with and you spent hours naked and tangled up with each other. Even when you were apart, he still gave you the best damn orgasms of your life because he was shockingly good at sexting for someone who was 20 years older than you.

But your connection with Joel was so much deeper than the physical. You could talk with him the way you could no one else, he knew you and saw you in a way you didn’t realize was possible for another person to see you and know you. You wanted to spend all your time with him, do everything with him. How were you supposed to sit at your parents’ house for Thanksgiving dinner with him next to you at the table and expect them to not notice that?

“M’serious,” he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing the side of your neck before nuzzling into your skin there. “Be on my best behavior. No fuckin’ you in the storage room this time. Couldn’t get me naked tonight if you tried.”

“Oh, OK,” you rolled your eyes but laughed a little. “I’m sure you’d keep it in your pants if I just tugged my sweater dress down nice and low and headed off to the quiet part of the house…”

“Well now you’re just askin’ too much of me, baby,” he teased, kissing you again before putting his face beside yours in the mirror. “I’m just a man, after all.”

“My man,” you smiled and he laughed.

“S’right,” he said. “Yours.”

You went to your parents’ place first, keeping up the pretense that you’d been staying at a friend’s and not at Joel’s during your trip home, and you helped your mom finish up the last of dinner preparations.

“You’re sure Joel’s not bringing anybody?” Your mom asked your dad as the two of you set the table, your dad camped in front of the television watching football.

“S’what he said,” he replied absently before smacking his hand down on the arm of his recliner. “Fuckin’ hell! Dunno when we’re gonna field a goddamn defense this season…”

“Well I thought you mentioned that he’d been seeing someone,” your mom said and your head snapped around to look at her so fast your neck popped. She frowned at you and you cleared your throat awkwardly, looking back down at the place setting you were arranging.

“Said I thought he was seein’ someone,” your dad corrected her. “Been actin’ all cagey last few months but he’s got this funny look on his face when he shows up for basketball is all.”

You bit back a smile and put out the next napkin.

“Well, that’s good,” your mom said. “I hope he is seeing someone. Joel’s a good guy, he deserves a good woman.”

“I agree OH COME ON!” He was on his feet, remote clutched in his hand as a ref gestured on screen. He turned off the TV and threw the remote into the couch. “Well, there’s no comin’ back from that. I’m gonna take a piss before folks get here…”

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that during the holidays,” your mother grumbled. The words were barely out of her mouth when the doorbell rang and she looked to you. “Would you mind getting that, sweetie?”

“Sure,” you smiled and tried to keep yourself from running to the door, stopping at the mirror to check your hair and makeup before pulling the door open. Joel was standing there, one of those cocky, crooked smiles you loved so much on his face.

“Well hi there,” he said, his brown eyes soft.

“Hi,” you smiled and then feigned a frown. “I’m sorry… Jim, was it? Think we met at my parents’ anniversary party?”

He pursed his lips for a second and rolled his eyes and you could tell he wanted to grab you and kiss you.

“Joel,” he corrected you. “And yeah, somethin’ like that.”

Your mother put Joel across from you, the two single people at the table, and you slipped your foot out of your shoe during dinner, tracing your toes over his calf where no one could see.

“So, princess,” your dad said as dinner wound down and you were on your third glass of wine. “You ever gonna get a real job? Think about movin’ closer to home?”

The room went silent, Joel’s eyebrows knitting together before looking toward your father at the head of the table.

“Honey,” your mom said quietly, lightly scolding your dad.

“What?” He asked, picking up his wine glass and taking a generous sip. “Think it’s a fair question. We bankrolled her gettin’ that damn degree thinkin’ she’d do something with herself and she’s, what, playing music for whackos?”

“Dad,” your sister hissed, her eyes darting to her boyfriend across from her. “Cool it.”

“I’m providing music therapy in an inpatient setting,” you said, setting your wine glass down.

“You’re finding some damn way to chase that pipe dream of being a goddamn singer is what you’re doin’,” he replied. “It’s time to grow up, find a real job…”

“Just because you don’t recognize the importance of mental health doesn’t mean my job isn’t real,” you said, forcing yourself to stay calm.

“You said you wanted to study psychology so you could help people,” he cut you off. “Not so you could find some way to play rock star, and…”

“And I think you’ve had a few too many,” Joel cut him off. Your dad opened his mouth to argue but Joel cocked his head, his jaw tense. “C’mon. You were just tellin’ me that she don’t come home enough, you think this shit is helping? It’s Thanksgiving. Cool it.”

Your mom looked quickly between you and Joel before clearing her throat.

“Pie, anyone?” She asked, ending the conversation before your dad had a chance to pick it up again.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you said when you got back to Joel’s that night, taking your earrings out and setting them on the nightstand you’d claimed as yours.

“He shouldn’t have said that shit to you,” Joel said, his voice heated. “Can’t believe he’d even think that shit let alone say it. I’d never dream of saying somethin’ like that to Sarah, not about to just let him…”

“Yes, you are,” you said, crossing your arms and facing him. “He’s always been like that, he’s always only wanted me to exist as an extension of himself and only do what he thinks is worthwhile. It’s nothing new, I’m used to it…”

“Well, you fuckin’ shouldn’t be,” he snapped. “You deserve better than that.”

“It’s great that you believe that,” you said. “I do, too. But if we want to make this work? You can’t come to my rescue. If it happens again, you have to let me handle it. Understand?”

He sighed before going and kissing your temple.

“Whatever you want, baby.”

July 4th, 19 months later

“Do we really have to go?” You groaned, Joel’s ceiling fan turning lazily over your head. You were naked, the only way you could handle being anywhere close to Joel in this heat, your bodies sticky with sweat and come.

“You are visiting for the holiday,” he said, toying with your fingers. “Probably look pretty damn weird if you don’t turn up for the cookout.”

You sighed.

“You’re right,” you said. “But you have to behave yourself this time. Actually behave yourself, I mean it.”

“When do I not behave myself?” He teased. “I’m always on my best behavior when it comes to you, baby.”

You snorted.

“Is that what you called it when you cornered me in the bathroom last Christmas and stuck your tongue down my throat?” You asked.

“Yup,” he said.

“How about when you pick a fight with my dad when he says something shitty?”

“He stops sayin’ shitty stuff, I’ll stop fighting ‘im on it,” Joel shrugged. You groaned. “I just don’t understand that man. I love ‘im like a brother, and all he says about you when you aren’t around is glowing. You’d think that man worships the ground you walk on but for some reason, you come home and he decides to act like a fuckin’ jackass and I’m not about to just let him talk to you that way, baby, I’m sorry but I’m not. I’d stop any man from talking about his kid that way but I’m sure as hell not gonna just let him do it to you.”

“Your chivalry would be hotter if it wasn’t putting our entire relationship at risk,” you said wryly.

He shrugged.

“We gotta tell him eventually, baby,” he said. “And if he finds out because he was being an ass, well, that’s on him.”

You went into what had become your usual habit with Joel and holidays. When he wasn’t with Sarah - another hurdle you had yet to cross, not sure how she’d feel about her father dating someone just two years older than her - the two of you were usually together. When you came to Austin like you were now, you went to your parents’ house first and pitched in with your mother, counting the minutes until he showed up at the door. When he did, with his special recipe baked beans in hand, a profound relief took you. He was there, with you, and you were making it work.

Or you were, until your dad made a back handed comment about your career yet again.

You clenched your hand a little tighter around your beer bottle and you opened your mouth to respond but Joel beat you to it.

“I don’t know why you say that kind of crap,” he said, going from leaning against a fence post by the pool to rising to his full and frankly massive height. “You tryin’ to make your kid feel like shit? Make her think you ain’t proud of her and what she does? Because I got news for you, bud, you’re damn lucky to have someone like her for a kid, someone who’s smart and kind and talented as hell. You’re damn lucky she comes around here at all, you talking to her the way you do and I’m not about to just let you pull that shit in front of me!”

You stood there, mouth open, staring at your boyfriend who no one knew was your boyfriend. The party had gone silent, the only sounds coming from the sizzle of burgers on the grill and the quiet guitar of background music from the speakers around the pool.

“Don’t much appreciate bein’ spoken to like that in my own home, friend,” your dad said eventually, his voice low and dangerous.

“I’m sure you don’t,” Joel muttered, setting his beer bottle down with a little too much force on a nearby table. “I’ll see myself out.”

He hardly looked your way on his way to his truck and, when the rest of the guests left that night, you just had to pray that your mom believed you when you lied and said you didn’t know why Joel would act like that because of you.

Two months later

“It’s just not working,” you said, your voice thick.

You didn’t like doing this. You didn’t want to do this. You needed to do this.

“Baby,” he said, a pleading edge to his voice. “C’mon, I know… I know things have been rough, that the distance is real hard and that I fucked up when you were here last but…”

“What are we doing, Joel?” You asked, rubbing your temple with one hand and clutching your phone to your head with the other.

“I thought we were lovin’ each other,” he said in a voice so sad and weak it almost broke you.

“To what end?” You asked. “Where is this going? We’ve been doing this for more than two years now and what’s changed? We’re still in different states, my parents still don’t know and neither does your daughter, our lives are still separate. We have no where to go from here and I just… I can’t keep doing this. It’s not working.”

“Isn’t it worth it like it is?” He said softly.

“Joel,” you whispered.

He sighed.

“You’re right,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m… I’m sorry. I just… You’re right. I shouldn’t hold you back, you deserve to have whatever you want.”

“So do you,” you said quietly.

He laughed once.

“We both know that ain’t true,” he said. “Just… take care of yourself for me, OK baby? Give yourself something good.”

“You too,” you said, just letting yourself sob now.

“Still love you, baby,” he almost whispered. “Think I always will.”

You pressed your nails into your palm. You weren’t sure you could survive saying it back.

He didn’t ask you to.

“I’ll see you around,” he said. “Bye, baby.”

He hung up before you said I love you, too.

Seven Years Later

You wondered if you should feel guilty, looking at your engagement ring on your finger as your new fiance snored lightly beside you.

Reid was a good man. You’d met on a dating app a few years earlier, a few casual boyfriends between you and the disintegration of your relationship with Joel by then but he still lingered there on the edge of your consciousness. Never close but never far away, either.

Your new fiance had wooed you in the usual way. He charmed you over text, he thoughtfully arranged dates, he even sent you flowers the first time you slept with him. He did almost everything right, even if he was sometimes oddly distant and unreachable. You were happy when he got down on one knee at the mini-golf course he’d taken you to on your first date, a large and shining diamond held out to you as an offering.

But for a moment, just half a second, it wasn’t Reid you wanted to ask you that question. It was Joel, the man you’d loved more than any other, the man you hadn’t spoken to in the better part of a decade, the man you had no business still loving that you wanted to ask for your hand.

Breaking things off had been the right call. You were right, it couldn’t work. You couldn’t have with him what you had with Reid, someone to sleep next to every night and plan a future with every day. But fuck, you still wished you could.

You toyed with the ring, twisting it on your finger, the stone feeling oddly heavy on your hand. Reid was a good man. One you could settle down with, one you could build a life with. He was what you needed.

You rolled over and wrapped around a pillow, trying to not think of Joel as you fell asleep next to your fiance.

***

Bar None, Present Day

Joel thought he was crazy when he saw you.

It wouldn’t surprise him if he’d lost his mind, spending the last decade hung up on you the way he had. There hadn’t been a day that passed since you left him that he didn’t think about you. He wondered how you were doing, if you were too stressed at work or if you were drinking enough water or if you’d seen a movie he thought you’d like.

Sometimes, he just thought about you existing in your life. He pictured you on your couch reading or laughing with a glass of wine in your hand or lying in bed with your eyes half closed as you drifted toward sleep. He liked doing that, picturing you in your space in the intimate moments of your life.

Others, he thought about the deeper things. He thought about you being happy, both alone and with someone else. He thought about you getting older and advancing in your life and your career. He thought about you struggling sometimes and how he wished he could make it easier. He thought about sending you flowers on your birthday and almost did a few times before deciding that might mess things up for you, if you were dating someone and flowers from another man showed up at your door so he didn’t because all he wanted was for you to be happy.

He’d started talking to your dad again, a few months after you broke things off with him. They made up in that gruff way men did, dodging any and all emotion as much as they could. Joel latched on to everything your father mentioned about you. He became masochistic, in a way. Asking after you sometimes, checking in on how you were doing, seeing if your dad took pictures when you came home for the holidays. The day you got engaged was a punch to the gut. Your dad had proudly announced it to the whole team at their game that night, damn near glowing. That hit him harder than he thought it would.

You really were gone, then. It really was over. Your dad had shown him the picture you’d sent him when you’d gotten engaged. It was a selfie, a man much closer to your age than Joel was holding you close and tight as you held your ring up for the camera and smiled broadly. But, he thought - maybe wishfully - it didn’t reach your eyes. Not really. Some part of this wasn’t entirely what you wanted.

He shouldn’t like that - and most of him didn’t. He wanted you to be happy. He wanted you to have every good thing you could because you deserved that. But the rest of him was selfish because he wanted to be the one to give you those things. He wanted to give you smiles and orgasms and fucking diamond rings.

But he could’t. And you deserved someone who could.

He’d tried to move on in your years apart, he really had. He’d tried dating for a while. Sarah even showed him how to set up a dating app and he went out with a few women but it hadn’t been any different than it had been in the past. It wasn’t long before he gave up, resigning himself to a life where the best of it was behind him.

Going to Bar None was one of those masochistic things he just kept doing. He tried not to go too often, limiting himself to once a month at most. Some months were better than others. Sometimes, he could go six, eight weeks without stepping foot inside the place he’d first met you. Others, he went back three or four nights in a row. He always sat at the same spot he’d been at when he first saw you, like if he stayed rooted there long enough you’d walk back into his life and you could pick up right where you left off.

Still, it was a shock when he saw you come in with your friends that night. He forced himself to sit there and wait even though your eyes found his the second you were in the door.

You were engaged. Maybe even home for some kind of wedding related event. The last thing you needed was some ex-boyfriend butting in where he wasn’t wanted.

But… you were looking at him. Not just looking at him, looking at him the way you used to, looking at him like you wanted him. So, when the last of your friends got up and left and you were there at the table, alone, he couldn’t help it. He went to you.

And you weren’t wearing a ring.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, looking at your bare hand for a moment before going back to your face. “Your dad didn’t say…”

“Yeah, he wasn’t exactly thrilled,” you smiled a little, putting your hand back in your lap. “He lost out on some deposit money for the wedding when that fell through. Thankfully, he got to place the blame on my ex and not on me.”

“Can I ask what happened?” Joel asked, trying to keep from feeling hopeful. Lord knows he shouldn’t.

“He cheated on me,” you said, shrugging simply as though you’d said he’d forgotten what you’d sent him to the store to get.

“Shit,” Joel shook his head. “I’m sorry. He’s a scumbag, not to mention a fuckin’ dumbass.”

You smiled a little and shrugged again.

“It happens,” you said. “And, honestly… I was a little relieved. The closer we got to the wedding, the more I wondered if I was doing the right thing.”

Joel’s heart sped up.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, taking a sip of your drink. “As much as I loved him, it just… it wasn’t the same as how I felt for this one guy I dated before.”

“Really?” Joel asked, forcing himself to stay in his seat and not take your face in his hands and kiss you.

“Really,” you smiled a little bigger now, one that it looked like you were struggling to contain. “We dated for a while and I loved him so much. I still do. But I was stupid, I let a bunch of life things get in the way and I didn’t fight for things with him the way I should have.”

Joel moved a little closer to you.

“Probably not stupid,” he said. “Probably just practical.”

“Nah, it was stupid,” you said. “When you love someone that much, the only practical thing is to figure it out, you know?”

He took a deep breath.

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

“Anyway,” you said. “I decided to come back here. See if he was still single and willing to make a go of it. A real go of it this time, one where we say fuck all the life problems because this is worth it.”

“Well,” Joel said, his heart racing now. “He’d be a fool to turn you down. He was a fool for letting you go to begin with.”

You smiled all the way then before leaning into him slowly, hesitantly. You kissed him, gentle and soft and your lips were so familiar but so electric on him. Something in him came alive at your touch, sparking low and deep and hot and he was suddenly desperate for you. His hands moved of their own accord, one to hold your face to his, the other to take your waist, slipping around to your back, pulling you damn near off your bar stool and into him, his tongue dipping into the sweetness that was your mouth.

After what seemed like forever and no time at all, you pulled back from him, breathless and wide eyed.

“Want to come back to my place?” You asked quietly. “I’m still unpacking but it’s not far.”

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly and then laughed a little. As if he wouldn’t go anywhere you asked. “Course I do.”

You were barely in the door when your arms were around his neck, your body pressed tightly to the front of him, his hands snaking around to hold you close. You led him to your bedroom, tugging at his clothes and stepping out of yours until both of you were naked next to your bed. Joel’s eyes ran over you in the dark, the slats of the blinds casting lines of moonlight over your bared skin. You were somehow - impossibly - even more beautiful than he remembered, his hands gently running over the outline of you in front of him.

“You sure about this?” He asked quietly.

“I’m sure,” you whispered back. “More sure than I’ve been about anything in a long time.”

He smiled at that, kissing you before that smile swallowed him up, and he lowered you onto the bed. He guided you back on it, until you were in the middle of the mattress and he settled between your thighs. His cock - already so hard it almost hurt and dripping with want - nestled against your soft, wet heat, the head of him brushing your clit as he rocked himself against you.

“Fuck, Joel,” you breathed as he kissed your neck, drinking in the smell of your perfume and skin and just a little bit of sweat from the heat of the bar. “I missed you.”

“Missed you, too,” he dragged his teeth up and over your skin to nip at your ear lobe. “So goddamn much.”

He kissed over your skin, pressed himself against your warmth, worked himself against your slit, savoring every part of you he could possibly touch until you were dripping and damn near writhing below him.

“Please,” you panted, your fingers knotting in the hair at his nape. “I need you, I need you inside me, please, I…”

He just nodded, separating from you enough to look between your bodies as he lined himself up with your entrance, pressing just the tip of him inside your grasping pussy before settling on top of you again. His eyes found yours in the dark, your skin soft on his, your mouth open as you whimpered in pleasure and want.

“I’ve got you,” he said. “Give you everything you need.”

You nodded quickly, frantically, and he pushed inside, his cock spreading you open and he had to fight to not close his eyes and get totally lost in the feel of you. But he needed everything, he needed to see you while he felt you and heard you and breathed you in. It had been too long since he’d seen you like this - back arched, mouth agape, keening and whining from his cock. He needed it like he needed water or air, needed you with him like this as often as he could get it. He needed you with him in every other way, too. He was an addict, there was never going to be enough. He knew now, after years of drought, that he would happily drown in you if you’d let him.

He kissed you as he bottomed out inside, the whole of him filling the whole of you. Your walls clung to him, already fluttering lightly over him, your thighs wrapped around his hips as he held himself deep. He could taste you now, too, and his heart stuttered in his chest. Finally, he had all of you again, overwhelming all of him again.

When he started to move inside you, he knew he wasn’t going to last long. You felt too goddamn good and it had been years since he’d last been with anyone without a condom. But he didn’t need to worry about making you come, he could tell you were already close. It had been years since he last had you but his body knew yours deeply and intimately. He knew how your hips moved when you got close, how your channel would draw tight for a moment before relaxing ever so slightly, again and again until you were pulled so close around him that he knew you were right on the precipice of your climax.

“Come on baby,” he whispered, looking in your wide eyes. “Come for me, let me feel you.”

You cried out, the sound cracked and desperate, and he pressed deep as you came, your channel throbbing and pulsing over him so hard that the rest of the world fell away. All that was left was you and how you were taking him, you and how damn good your pleasure felt.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he said, still grinding his cock deep into you until your orgasm started to ease. “Not gonna last baby, can I come in you? Fuck, please…”

“Please, Joel,” you moaned but, before he could start fucking into you hard and fast, your fingers dug into his bicep and your eyes met his, pleading in a new way. “But… I’m not on anything.”

He stilled inside you, your cunt still tight around him, the last aftershocks of your orgasm running over him. You wanted him to come inside unprotected. He knew you’d always wanted children. You’d even day dreamed about it with him, fingers laced with his when you were naked in bed, but that’s all it had ever been: a dream. Now, you were damn near asking for it.

“You sure?” He asked, breathless.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I want you. All of you.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck and fucking into you in earnest, his cock harder than it had ever been at your words. “I’m yours baby, only ever been yours.”

Your thighs tightened against his sides, your hips rising to meet his, your pussy drawing tight around him again as he worked down into you and he moaned into your skin as he came, the heavy pulse of his orgasm making you come around him again, finding the height of your shared being together again, the way it seemed like it always should have been.

When his climax finally eased, he went limp on top of you for a moment, your hands tracing slow, easy paths over the breadth of his back. When it felt like he could control his limbs again, he kissed your shoulder and pulled out of you gently, falling to your side. You rolled to face him and he tugged you close before lacing his fingers with yours, brushing over your knuckles as he did.

“Did you mean that?” He asked quietly, eventually.

“Yes,” you said softly, watching him closely. “I know what I want, Joel. I went a long time without you. I had a lot of time to think about things. I know what I want and what I want is you. I wanted you while we were apart, too, I was just… too afraid of what that might mean. But I know better now.”

“What about your family?” He asked. “Your dad… not sure he’ll ever forgive us.”

“Don’t care,” you said. “I fight with him all the time, anyway. At least this is a good reason to.”

He smiled a little.

“And it doesn’t bother you that I’ve got a kid who’s just two years younger than you?” He asked.

“Moved past that years ago,” you smiled back. “Does it bother you?”

“Moved past that years ago,” he said, too, and you laughed.

“Does it bother you that I…” you took a deep breath. “That I want kids?”

He watched you closely for a moment, your lower lip drawn between your teeth.

“Haven’t thought much about having more kids,” he said. “But the times I have… they’ve been yours.”

“Really?”

“Every time,” he said. “S’long as you don’t mind them having an old dad…”

You laughed again, all gentle and easy, the way things were when the two of you were alone together.

“Think we can manage,” you said. “I just want you. Everything else? We’ll figure it out.”

He smiled a little and he reached out, cupping your cheek and looking in your eyes and feeling a spark in his chest that said he was holding the whole world in his palm.

“Yeah,” he said. “Think we will.”

A/N: I'm SO SORRY it took me a million years to finish this, I really didn't intend to. I hope it was at least somewhat worth the wait!

I hope you enjoyed these two crazy kids. I had a blast writing them. Thank you for being here and for putting up with the insane wait between chapters. Love you!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #joel miller smut #stranger in a bar

507 notes · View notes

elryuse · 25 days ago

Text

Take My Breath

Yeji X Male Reader

Tags : Kissing, Choking, Spit Play, Teasing, Slight-dom Yeji, Step Sister, Creaampie, Goth, Biting Words : 3,293 Words

The faint hum of the city outside the apartment’s window was a distant backdrop to the storm brewing inside. You sat cross-legged on the floor, a half-empty bottle of soju in hand, your vision slightly hazy. Across from you, Yeji lounged against the couch, her black lace choker catching the dim light of the lamp. Her dark hair framed her face like a shadow, her piercing eyes studying you with an intensity that made your stomach twist.

She was your step-sister, sure, but she’d always been more than that. Ever since your mom passed and your dad brought her and her mother into your life, she’d been your protector, your confidant, your everything. Yeji was the kind of girl who didn’t let the world touch you. She was the one who stood between you and the chaos, her goth aesthetic and sharp tongue making her seem invincible. But tonight, something was different. The way she looked at you—longing, almost desperate—sent a shiver down your spine.

“You’re drinking too fast,” she murmured, her voice low and velvety, like a whisper meant only for you. She reached across the small gap between you, her fingers brushing against yours as she took the bottle from your hand. Her touch lingered, sending a jolt of electricity through your veins.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, your words slurring slightly.

“You’re not fine,” she shot back, her tone sharper now. “You’re drunk, and you’re going to regret it tomorrow.”

You chuckled, leaning back on your hands. “Since when do you care about regrets?”

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought she might snap at you. But then she smiled, a slow, dangerous curve of her lips. “I’ve always cared about you,” she said softly. “More than you realize.”

The room felt suddenly smaller, the air thicker. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from her, the way her lips parted slightly, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath. She set the soju bottle aside and crawled closer, her movements deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. Your heart pounded in your chest as she stopped just inches from you, her breath mingling with yours.

“Yeji,” you started, but she silenced you with a finger pressed to your lips.

“Don’t,” she whispered, her voice trembling with something you couldn’t quite place. “Don’t say anything.”

Her hand moved from your lips to your cheek, her touch impossibly gentle. You could see the conflict in her eyes, the battle she was fighting within herself. And then, as if she’d finally made her decision, she leaned in and pressed her lips to yours.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if she were testing the waters. But when you didn’t pull away, she deepened it, her tongue slipping into your mouth, exploring every inch of you. Her hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, and you found yourself responding, your own hands gripping her waist as if she might disappear if you let go.

It was wrong. You knew it was wrong. But in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the fact that she was your step-sister, not the alcohol clouding your judgment, not the voice in the back of your head screaming at you to stop. All that mattered was the way her body pressed against yours, the way her lips moved with a desperate need that mirrored your own.

When she finally pulled away, her breath hitched, her eyes dark with desire. “I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I can’t pretend I don’t want you.”

Your mind was spinning, trying to process what was happening, but before you could respond, she stood up and peeled off her top, revealing the black lace bra underneath. Her skin was pale and flawless, and you couldn’t help but stare, your mouth going dry.

“Yeji,” you managed to choke out, but she didn’t give you a chance to protest. She straddled your lap, her knees pressing into the floor on either side of you, and leaned down to capture your lips in another searing kiss.

Her hands were everywhere, tugging at your shirt, fumbling with the zipper of your jeans. You wanted to stop her, to tell her this was a mistake, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you found yourself helping her, your hands trembling as you pulled off your shirt and tossed it aside.

She broke the kiss long enough to look down at you, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “You’re mine now,” she whispered, her voice dripping with possessiveness. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you breathed, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

She bit her lip, her eyes gleaming with triumph, and then she leaned down to kiss you again, her hands sliding down to your hips. You could feel the heat radiating off her, the urgency in her movements, and it was all you could do to keep up with her.

Her fingers found their way to the waistband of your boxers, and she pulled them down in one swift motion, freeing your already hard length. She let out a low moan at the sight of it, her hand wrapping around you and giving you a slow, teasing stroke.

“Yeji,” you gasped, your hips bucking against her touch.

She smirked, her free hand reaching behind her to unclasp her bra. It fell away, revealing her perfect breasts, and you couldn’t resist reaching up to touch them, your fingers brushing against her hardened nipples. She shivered at the contact, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment before she leaned down to kiss you again.

Her hand left your cock, and you groaned at the loss, but she didn’t leave you waiting for long. She positioned herself above you, her eyes locked on yours as she slowly sank down onto you. The sensation was overwhelming, the tight heat of her enveloping you, and you had to bite your lip to keep from crying out.

She moaned, her head falling back as she began to move, her hips grinding against yours. The sight of her above you, her pale skin glowing in the dim light, her dark hair cascading down her back, was almost too much to bear. You reached up to grab her hips, helping her move faster, deeper, and she let out a breathy laugh.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” she whispered, her voice trembling with pleasure.

You couldn’t respond, your mind too consumed by the sensations coursing through you. She leaned down to kiss you again, her lips bruising against yours, and you could feel the tension building inside you, coiling tighter with each thrust of her hips.

“I’m close,” she gasped, her nails digging into your shoulders. “Come with me.”

It was all the encouragement you needed. With a groan, you felt yourself tip over the edge, your release spilling into her as she cried out, her body trembling with the force of her own orgasm. She collapsed on top of you, her breath hot against your neck, and you wrapped your arms around her, holding her close as you both came down from the high.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the sound of your ragged breathing. And then, Yeji lifted her head to look at you, a sly smile playing on her lips. “You’re mine now,” she whispered, her voice filled with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine. “Forever.”

But before you could respond, she leaned down to kiss you again, her tongue slipping into your mouth, and you knew there was no going back. She was your step-sister, but in that moment, she was so much more. She was everything. And as she moved against you again, her body seeking another round, you couldn’t help but give in to her demands.

“Yeji,” you murmured against her lips, your voice barely audible. “More.”

She smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she leaned down to nip at your earlobe. “Your wish is my command,” she whispered, her breath hot against your skin. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

And with that, she began to move again, her hips grinding against yours, and you lost yourself in the haze of pleasure once more.

Yeji’s breath was hot against your neck, her lips brushing your skin as she whispered, “Flip me.” Her voice was low, commanding, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You hesitated for just a moment, your hands resting on her hips, still slick with sweat from the last round. But the look in her eyes—dark, insistent, almost feral—told you there was no room for refusal.

You gripped her waist firmly, feeling the tension in her muscles as you guided her onto her hands and knees. The dim light of the apartment caught the curve of her back, the black lace of her bra stark against her pale skin. She arched her spine, tilting her hips slightly, and you couldn’t help but admire the way her body moved with such deliberate intent.

“Good,” she purred, glancing over her shoulder at you with those piercing eyes. “Now take me.”

Her words were a demand, not a request, and they ignited something primal in you. You positioned yourself behind her, your hands gripping her hips as you aligned yourself with her. The first thrust was slow, deliberate, and you felt her tense for a moment before she let out a low moan.

“Harder,” she hissed, her voice trembling with desire. “Don’t hold back.”

You complied, your movements becoming rougher, more urgent. Each thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and the sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the small room. Yeji’s breath hitched, her fingers digging into the sheets as she pushed back against you, meeting your rhythm with her own. Her hair fell in messy waves over her shoulders, and you could see the way she bit her lip, her teeth sinking into the soft flesh as she fought to keep control.

“That’s it,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Her words spurred you on, and you tightened your grip on her hips, pulling her closer as you drove into her. The heat between you was almost unbearable, and you could feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter with each passing second. Yeji’s moans grew louder, more unrestrained, and you knew she was close.

“Yeji,” you groaned, your voice rough with need. “I can’t—”

“Don’t stop,” she interrupted, her voice sharp and commanding. “Keep going.”

You obeyed, your movements becoming almost frantic as you chased the release you both so desperately craved. Yeji’s nails clawed at the sheets, her back arching even more as she pushed herself up onto her elbows. The sight of her like that—so vulnerable, so completely lost in the moment—was almost too much to bear.

“Yes,” she moaned, her voice breaking as she reached her climax. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Her body trembled, her muscles clenching around you as she came, and the sensation pushed you over the edge. You buried yourself deep inside her, your own release crashing over you in waves as you held her close, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex. Then, slowly, Yeji lowered herself onto the bed, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. You collapsed beside her, your body spent but your mind still racing.

She turned to look at you, her eyes dark and unreadable. “That was…” she began, trailing off as she searched for the right words.

“Yeah,” you agreed, your voice barely a whisper.

Yeji smirked, her lips curling into that familiar, mischievous smile. “Good,” she said softly, her fingers tracing patterns on your chest. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could respond, she straddled you, her hips grinding against yours as she leaned down to kiss you. Her lips were soft, demanding, and you could taste the soju on her tongue. Her hands slid down your chest, her nails grazing your skin as she moved lower, her intentions clear.

“Yeji,” you murmured against her lips, your voice trembling with anticipation.

“Shh,” she whispered, her breath hot against your skin. “Just let me take care of you.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel the heat building inside you once more. Yeji’s lips trailed down your neck, her teeth nipping at your skin as she moved lower, her hands roaming over your body with practiced ease. You could feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter with each passing second.

“Yeji,” you groaned, your voice rough with need. “I can’t—”

“Don’t stop,” she interrupted, her voice sharp and commanding. “Keep going.”

“Yes,” she moaned, her voice breaking as she reached her climax. “Yes, yes, yes!”

She turned to look at you, her eyes dark and unreadable. “That was…” she began, trailing off as she searched for the right words.

“Yeah,” you agreed, your voice barely a whisper.

Yeji smirked, her lips curling into that familiar, mischievous smile. “Good,” she said softly, her fingers tracing patterns on your chest. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

For a moment, the room was still, the only sound the soft rustle of the sheets as Yeji shifted her weight. Her dark eyes locked onto yours, a silent challenge burning in their depths. She didn’t need to say a word—her body was already speaking for her, her hips grinding against yours in slow, deliberate circles. You could feel the heat radiating from her, the way her thighs tensed as she pressed herself closer.

“Turn around,” she murmured, her voice low and commanding, a tone that sent shivers down your spine. Her hands slid down your chest, her nails grazing your skin as she moved to kneel in front of you. You hesitated for only a second before obeying, your body reacting instinctively to her command. As you shifted, she adjusted herself, her back now pressing against your chest, her ass grinding against you achingly slow.

Her hands reached back, fingers digging into your thighs as she leaned forward, her back arching in a way that made your breath catch. “Fuck me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “Don’t hold back.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Your hands gripped her hips, fingers sinking into her soft flesh as you guided yourself inside her. She gasped, her head falling back against your shoulder as she took you deep, her body trembling with the sensation. You moved slowly at first, savoring the way she clenched around you, the way her breath hitched with every thrust.

“Harder,” she demanded, her voice sharp and urgent. Her hands tightened on your thighs, her nails digging into your skin as she pushed herself back against you. “Make me feel it.”

You obliged, your hips snapping forward with a force that made her cry out. Her ass bounced against you, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, her body writhing against yours as she chased the pleasure building inside her. You could feel her tightening around you, her walls clenching as she neared her peak.

“Yes,” she gasped, her voice breaking as she reached back to grab your hand, pulling it up to her chest. “Touch me.”

Your fingers found her breast, her nipple hard beneath your touch as you pinched and rolled it between your fingers. She moaned, her body arching into your touch as she ground herself against you. Her hips moved faster, her ass slamming against you with a rhythm that made your head spin. You could feel the tension building in your own body, the pressure coiling tight in your core.

“I’m close,” she panted, her voice trembling with urgency. “Don’t stop.”

You didn’t. Your thrusts grew faster, harder, your fingers tightening on her breast as you drove her closer to the edge. Her moans turned into sharp cries, her body trembling as she tipped over into ecstasy. Her walls clenched around you, her body convulsing as she came, her nails digging into your thigh hard enough to leave marks.

You followed her over the edge, your body shuddering as you spilled inside her, your hips jerking as you rode out the waves of pleasure. For a moment, you stayed like that, your body pressed against hers, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you both came down from the high.

Yeji was the first to move, her body shifting as she turned to face you. Her eyes were dark, her lips swollen from biting them, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. “Good,” she murmured, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your chest. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could respond, she was moving again, her body sliding down yours until she was kneeling between your legs. Her hands gripped your thighs, her nails pressing into your skin as she leaned forward, her breath hot against your still-sensitive flesh. She looked up at you, her eyes locking onto yours as she opened her mouth, her tongue flicking out to tease you.

“Yeji…” you started, but she cut you off with a sharp look, her hands tightening on your thighs.

“Shut up,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “Let me take care of you.”

Her mouth closed around you, her lips warm and wet as she took you deep. You groaned, your head falling back against the pillow as she began to move, her tongue swirling around you in ways that made your toes curl. Her hands moved to your hips, her nails digging into your skin as she took you deeper, her throat relaxing around you.

“Fuck,” you gasped, your hands gripping the sheets as she worked you over. You could feel the pressure building again, your body trembling as she pushed you closer to the edge. Her eyes stayed locked onto yours, her gaze intense and unrelenting as she sucked you harder, her tongue teasing you in just the right way.

“Yeji,” you groaned, your voice breaking as you felt yourself getting close. She didn’t slow down, didn’t stop, her hands tightening on your hips as she took you all the way to the edge. You came with a gasp, your body shuddering as she swallowed, her eyes never leaving yours.

When she finally pulled back, her lips were slick, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. She crawled back up your body, her hands braced on either side of your head as she leaned down to kiss you, her tongue pushing into your mouth as if to claim you all over again.

“Mine,” she whispered against your lips, her voice fierce and possessive. “You’re mine.”

#kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #update #kpop smut #hwang yeji #yeji x reader #yeji x male reader #itzy x reader #itzy smut #yeji smut #stepsis smut

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plasticflowersinahistorycemetery · 1 month ago

Text

inviolable

part I

Pairing: Ben x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ben's your dad's best friend, his partner in crime, your godfather. You've harboured a secret crush on him for years, and maybe—just maybe—he's got some hidden feelings of his own that he's kept bottled up for too long.

Warnings: 18+!, Ben is his own goddamn warning, age gap, pining/mutual pining, forbidden romance, forbidden relationship, secret/hidden relationship, power imbalance, dubious morality, possessiveness, jealousy, smut (clitoral stimulation, fingering, handjob, cunnilingus/oral, dry humping, p in v, kissing, spitting), dirty talk, mild misogyny, I may have missed some.

Word Count: 7,741

A/N: I'm back. Christ, I'm on a proper mission with writing at the moment. Must be the insomnia. Thank god for it though, eh? Anyways... this is a little something that's been in my head for a long old time, it's based off a weird dream I had a couple months back (I was watching The Boys damn near constantly, like falling asleep with it on and everything, as well as reading a bunch of SB smut) and I just built on it, and it's kinda run away with me a lil bit. <3 Lot of the plot in this first instalment... plot is a term I use lightly. Because—what goddamn plot? Hope you guys like the little Sameo! (see what I did there? Cameo... but... Sam? No? Sorry.) So... this is part one. This one will definitely only have two parts... and knowing me, I'll have it finished by some time tomorrow night. So, yeah, while all the warnings listed above may not be evident here? They will be in the next part. S'gonna be a doozy. Until then? All the love.

Without further ado: INVIOLABLE

There are things in this world meant to remain untouched. Sacred things. Hallowed things. Bound by blood, by time, by unspoken law. To trespass against them is to court ruin—to lay hands upon the inviolable and feel the weight of the world shift beneath your feet.

Some doors are never meant to be opened. Some lines are never meant to be crossed. Some names are never meant to be spoken in the dark, breathless and trembling, as hands that should never touch find purchase in forbidden places.

But the thing about forbidden things? They don’t stay untouched forever.

You don’t remember when it started. Maybe it was always there, a quiet, undisturbed thing, like a seed buried deep beneath the soil, waiting for the right moment to break open.

Ben had been a constant for as long as you could remember. Your godfather. Your father’s best friend, his shadow, his second half in ways that made it impossible to imagine one without the other. There was no family barbecue, no holiday gathering, no Sunday spent in the backyard without him. He was always there, cigarette tucked behind his ear, beer in his hand, voice rough and low like gravel warmed by the summer sun.

And God, he had always been so handsome.

Even as a child, you’d thought so—before you even knew what handsome was supposed to mean. You just knew you liked looking at him, that your stomach flipped when he laughed, that you wanted him to notice you. And he always had.

Where your father had rolled his eyes at your endless energy, Ben had indulged you. When your dad had said no, Ben had smirked, crouched down, and let you climb onto his shoulders anyway, holding you steady as he walked around the yard like you belonged there, like he didn’t mind carrying your weight. He let you hang off his leg, dragging him down with your tiny hands locked around his knee, and he would walk anyway, his booted steps slow and exaggerated as he played along, dragging you through the grass while you shrieked with laughter.

And the gifts. The perfect gifts.

It had been your sixth birthday when he’d given you the lamb. A stupid little stuffed thing, soft and floppy-eared, but from the moment you’d unwrapped it, it had been yours. Clutched in your arms at bedtime, dragged through the house by one matted paw, tucked beneath your chin when you curled into your father’s lap.

"Lamby," you’d called it, with all the solemnity of a child bestowing a title upon something sacred. And it had stuck.

Your father’s friends had made it a joke—called you Lamby just to get a rise out of you, to tease you until you were red-faced and flustered. "Only Uncle Ben is allowed to call me that!" you would snap, every single time. And your father had only laughed, nudging Ben with a knowing grin, muttering something about his little admirer.

You hadn’t understood what that meant back then. You hadn’t known it was anything more than adoration.

But then puberty hit.

And the adoration didn’t go away. It just... shifted.

You told yourself it was still innocent. That it was normal to notice the way his arms looked in his rolled-up sleeves, the way he leaned against your father’s truck, the way his voice melted into you like whiskey and smoke. You told yourself it didn’t mean anything when you hated seeing other women near him. When he brought girlfriends to family parties, when they sat too close, when they ran their hands down his arm or pressed their lips to his cheek, it made your chest ache with something raw and unfamiliar.

He was yours.

Not in any way that made sense, but still. He was your Uncle Ben.

And then came the night after your eighteenth birthday.

You had been drunk. Slurring your words, tripping over the sidewalk, clutching your best friend’s arm as she tried—and failed—to keep you both upright. The thought of calling your father had been enough to send panic clawing up your throat, so you’d called the only other person you trusted.

He had picked up on the first ring.

And twenty minutes later, his truck had pulled up to the curb, headlights slashing through the dark, his expression set in something between relief and exasperation. He hadn’t lectured you. He hadn’t yelled. He had just sighed, tipped your chin up to look at him, and said, "This gonna become a regular thing, Lamby?"

And God, you had hated how warm that stupid nickname made you feel.

He had dropped your best friend off first, watching until she was safely inside, then pulled into your driveway and put the truck in park. He had glanced at you, eyes dark in the dim glow of the dashboard, fingers drumming against the wheel before he spoke.

"I can’t lie to your dad, you know."

"You won’t have to," you had promised, voice soft and a little too sincere.

And that had been enough for him. He had ruffled your hair, just like he always had, fingers threading through the strands before falling away. "Get inside, get some water, and go to sleep. No more stupid shit."

You had nodded, cheeks burning, throat tight. You had felt so young then, under the weight of his gaze. Too young. But you weren’t. And someday, he was going to realise that too.

Then came 4th of July weekend, the year you'd turned nineteen.

The heat had been unbearable.

Thick and wet and heavy, clinging to your skin, making the air hum with something dense and slow-moving. The whole backyard had smelled like charcoal and cut grass, the acrid tinge of fireworks powder settling into the summer air as your dad and his friends—Ben included—set up the launch station.

You’d spent the whole day running back and forth between the house and the yard, fetching ice-cold beers, mixing up pitchers of iced tea and lemonade, your father muttering something about not letting his old ass friends drop dead from heatstroke. It should have been annoying, but you liked being useful, liked the way they all grumbled their appreciation, knocking back the drinks you handed them, sweat dripping from their temples.

And Ben? You’d liked it most when he reached for the glass.

The way his fingers had brushed yours, barely noticeable. The way he had tilted his head back, swallowing deep, Adam’s apple bobbing, before exhaling with a low groan. "Christ, Lamby. Think you saved my goddamn life."

You shouldn’t have felt it the way you did.

But you had.

And now, as the sun dipped low, casting everything in burning gold, you were perched on the picnic table, watching them finish the setup. Your legs bare, thighs sticky from the heat, the denim of your cutoffs riding too high—not that you were about to fix it. Your father was barking out orders, directing Ben and the others, but you could tell they were moving slower now, the heat catching up with them, exhaustion weighing down their steps.

Then Ben sighed, slapping his hands against his jeans. "Goin’ for a smoke," he muttered, and without much thought, he came to rest right beside you.

Not on the bench, but on the table itself. Perched, ankles crossed, the slight shift of the wood beneath his weight making you acutely aware of how close he was.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, that earthy scent of sweat and sun-baked skin mixed with the cigarette as he lit it, fingers cupping the flame from the breeze before shaking the lighter closed.

And then—he glanced at you.

Just for a second too long.

Just long enough for your heart to stutter, for something low in your stomach to twist itself into a tight, hot knot. He looked away too fast, like he caught himself before it could mean anything, and it made you feel a little sick with wanting.

So you grinned, cocked your head, and asked, "Can I try?"

His reaction was instantaneous. A sharp scoff, a low laugh, and then—"Fuckin’ behave yourself."

Your breath hitched.

You shouldn’t have felt it the way you did. But you did.

Something in his voice, in the rough scrape of it, made the air feel different. You weren’t sure if it was disapproval or something else, but either way—your face burned with the heat of it.

You tried to brush it off, tried to act like it didn’t matter, but as he took another slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling smoke into the humid air, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—he’d felt it too.

The fireworks had gone off like crackling constellations, splitting the night sky into pieces, blooming in colours that made your father’s face glow with the kind of pure, boyish joy that made your chest hurt. He had been beaming, beer sloshing in his hand as he threw an arm over one of his old friends, laughter bubbling from his chest.

The rest of them had been just as bad, slurring through old war stories, cheering every time another explosion thundered overhead.

You had slipped away at some point, away from the heat of bodies and the tang of sweat and liquor in the air. The mosquito lamp buzzed softly from the porch as you leaned against the railing, staring out into the yard, the scent of burning gunpowder still thick in the air.

Then—footsteps behind you.

Ben.

"Knew you’d be hiding somewhere," he muttered, already pulling a cigarette from the pack in his pocket. He perched on the railing, flicked his lighter open, and took a slow, deep drag. Then, without looking at you—without any warning at all—he pulled the cigarette from his lips and held it out.

"Just this once."

Your chest constricted.

For a second, you just stared at it—like maybe if you reached for it, you’d burn yourself on something else entirely. But he was watching now, eyes flicking sideways, and you didn’t want to look like a kid.

So you took it. Put it between your lips. Inhaled, tried not to cough.

Ben chuckled. "Look at you. Lil’ fuckin’ menace." Then—softer, lower, just for you: "Lamby."

That did something to you.

Something dangerous. Something hot and breathless and twisting, your whole body thrumming with something bright and stupid and electric.

Then, before you could even process it, he was holding out his beer. "C’mon. Might as well complete the set."

You took a sip, felt the cold bite of it trickle down your throat, the taste of smoke still lingering on your tongue. Ben watched, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, before he tapped his nose with two fingers and winked.

"Don’t tell your dad."

And just like that—he stood, stretching, rolling his shoulders before heading back toward the others.

You sat there, reeling.

Preening.

Because it wasn’t much, was it? Just a cigarette, just a sip of beer, just a joke. Except it wasn’t. Because it had been just for you. Because you’d felt seen in a way that made something curl and bloom in your chest.

And later, when the house was quiet—when the night was settled, heavy, deep—you still weren’t asleep.

The guys had been too drunk to leave, sprawled across couches, filling up the guest rooms, your father snoring loud enough to shake the goddamn walls. But you were still awake, still buzzing, still aching with something you couldn’t name.

And then—footsteps. Soft. Slow. Passing by your room. You watched the shadow slip under your doorframe.

And then—pause.

Just for a second. Not long. Not even long enough to be real. But you felt it all the same. The moment passed. The shadow moved on. The footsteps faded.

And still—you sat there for the next hour, face buried in your pillow, biting back the giddy, breathless, shaking laughter in your chest. Because whether it had been him or not, it didn’t matter.

You wanted it to be.

And when your first date had come around, you had been so excited.

Not the kind of giddy, fluttery excitement that made you feel small—no, this was something deeper, something that made you feel light on your feet, steady in your chest. It had been a long time since someone had noticed you like that, since someone had looked at you and seen more than just the girl they grew up around, more than your father’s daughter.

And Sam had seen you.

A guy from a couple of towns over, nice enough, awkward but in a way that had made you laugh, spilling beer on you at the bowling alley before immediately scrambling for napkins, his face red as he apologised over and over. He had stayed with you the whole night, ditching his friends without hesitation, choosing instead to sit in a dimly lit booth while the two of you talked.

Not just talked—really talked.

Folklore. Mythology. The things that made your brain buzz, the subjects you had been considering studying in college, but never quite voiced aloud to anyone who might take it seriously.

But Sam had taken it seriously.

He had leaned forward, elbows braced on the table, asking real questions, pushing deeper, not just humouring you, but actually listening.

And when he had asked you out, when he had ducked his head and scratched the back of his neck, waiting for an answer—

You had squealed. You had said yes immediately, heart skipping, stomach twisting, exchanging numbers before parting ways, feeling like maybe—just maybe—you were stepping into something new.

So tonight, you had dressed for it.

Your prettiest sundress, soft and light, swaying when you moved. Sandals, simple but delicate. You had done your hair, your makeup, catching your reflection before heading downstairs, thinking—"I look… grown up. Pretty, even."

The thought had felt strange, thrilling, like shedding something old, stepping into something undiscovered.

And then—you walked into the living room.

Ben and your dad were lounging on the sofa, beer bottles in hand, eyes fixed on the baseball game you hadn’t even realised was on. The room smelled like cologne and sweat, hops and leather, the low murmur of the commentators filling the space.

You had barely glanced at them as you passed, already reaching for your bag, when you said, "Sam’s gonna be here soon to pick me up."

And that was when Ben spoke.

"Who the hell is Sam?"

His voice had been flat, clipped, like he was barely paying attention—but then your dad answered.

"Some guy who asked her on a date. Seems like a good kid. Bit of a square."

You had opened your mouth to protest, to defend Sam, to tell your dad that being a square wasn’t a bad thing, when you felt it—

Ben’s eyes on you.

A slow, sweeping once-over.

Your breath caught, the moment thickening, stretching, twisting into something you weren’t sure you were imagining.

Then he turned back to your dad, muttered, "She’s too young to be goin' on dates."

And your stomach dropped. Not because you were embarrassed—no, because of the way he’d said it.

The rough edge to it. The way his fingers tightened around his beer bottle, the way his jaw flexed, his shoulders tensing where he leaned into the couch. It wasn’t some offhand comment—it was something else.

Your dad had only laughed, smacking Ben’s arm, shaking his head. "She’s twenty now, man. C’mon."

Ben didn’t answer. Not at first. Just took a long sip of his beer, eyes flicking back toward the screen, but not really watching.

And that’s when your heart started pounding.

Because your father had been fine with it. He had laughed it off, joked about it, made peace with it weeks ago.

But Ben? Ben wasn’t fine.

Ben was annoyed.

And you didn’t want to play things up in your head, you didn’t, but he was coming across jealous.

And that—that made your chest feel too tight, too warm, something curling behind your ribs, something you shouldn’t want as badly as you did.

Because Ben had never looked at you like that before.

Sam had been sweet.

That was the only way to describe him. Sweet. Earnest. Polite in a way that most guys weren’t. He had kept his hands to himself all night, opened doors for you, paid for dinner even when you’d offered to split, and had spent most of the drive home talking excitedly about a new book he thought you might like, glancing over at you every so often like he couldn’t quite believe you were still sitting beside him.

And maybe that’s why you let him walk you to the door.

Because it had been nice. Because he had treated you like someone special, not just a pretty girl, but someone he actually wanted to know.

You had stood there on the porch, shifting slightly, fingers curling around the strap of your purse as he leaned in.

Not too fast. Not too forceful. Just slow, like he was making sure you had time to pull away if you wanted to. And maybe you would have let him kiss you. Maybe you would have closed the gap, felt something soft, something simple, something nice.

But you didn’t.

Because the second your lips almost met—

The door swung open.

And there stood Ben.

Big. Broad. Muscular as hell. Arms crossed over his chest, jaw tight, eyes hard and cold and fixed—not on you, but on Sam.

"’Bout time you got home, Lamby."

Your stomach dropped. Not because of the nickname, but because of how he said it. Because it wasn’t warm. It wasn’t teasing.

It was territorial.

And Sam? He felt it too. You could tell by the way he shifted his weight, by the way he glanced at you, rubbing the back of his neck before stepping back, voice soft, awkward.

"I had a great time."

"Me too," you said, voice smaller than you meant it to be.

He hesitated, gave you a small smile, then turned, walking quickly toward his car, never once looking back.

You stood there, arms wrapping around yourself, watching the red glow of his taillights as he pulled out of the driveway and disappeared down the road.

And then—you turned, crossed your arms tighter, and fixed Ben with a glare.

"What the hell was that?"

Ben didn’t answer right away.

He just… looked at you. Really looked. His eyes dragged over your bare legs, the hem of your dress, the soft slope of your throat, the lingering flushed heat of almost being kissed. His gaze swept slow, unhurried, deliberate, before finally settling on your face.

And his nostrils flared.

You shifted your weight to one leg, your jaw tightening, mirroring the way he stood, meeting him with a glare of your own.

And then—he scoffed.

"Get your ass inside," he muttered, stepping past you, brushing against your shoulder as he did, bigger than you, overwhelming in a way that made your stomach twist. "Before I tell your old man you were about to let some lanky fuckin’ two-pump chump feel you up on the doorstep like you’re easy or somethin’."

You bristled. Your whole body went rigid, something inside you snapping.

"If I didn’t know any better," you bit back, sharp, breathless, "I’d think you were jealous or something."

Not your wisest choice.

Because Ben went still. Not in a way that meant hesitation. Not in a way that meant denial. No—he stilled like a predator hearing its prey snap a twig.

Then—he moved.

Not fast. Not aggressive. Just deliberate. Slow. Unavoidable.

Stepping forward, backing you up against the frame of the doorway, dipping his head down just enough so his mouth was level with yours, so his voice coiled low and hot in the air between you.

"I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight," he murmured, so quiet, so rough, "but it sure as shit better not be that fuckin’ pussy’s fingers."

You gasped. Your body locked up, breath hitching, eyes going wide.

And Ben just smirked.

Like he liked that reaction. Like he had wanted it.

Then—he straightened. Stepped back like nothing had happened.

"Better get upstairs, get into your comfies," he muttered, voice gruff, unreadable. "Come watch the football with me ‘n your dad. Or I’ll take you over my fuckin’ knee for the backtalk."

Your breath shuddered. You nodded. Wordless. Weak. Then you turned, stepping inside, feeling the weight of his eyes on your back as you headed upstairs—

And you knew.

You knew that nothing about tonight had been normal. That something between you had shifted. Twisted. Changed.

You took your time.

Stripping out of your sundress, pulling on one of your dad’s old t-shirts—soft, worn, faded, the fabric thin from years of washes, hanging loose over your frame. Bare legs, bare feet against the cool wood floors as you splashed cold water over your face, washing away the night.

Washing away Ben’s words. Or at least, trying to.

But they sat heavy in your head. The way he had looked at you. The low scrape of his voice, the bite of it, the way your whole body had locked up at the filth that had dripped from his mouth.

"It sure as shit better not be that fuckin’ pussy’s fingers."

You shuddered, inhaled deep, let the cold burn of the water centre you before heading downstairs.

The game was still on when you walked back into the living room, your dad and Ben both where you had left them—sprawled out, half a beer deep, yelling at the screen like the players could actually hear them.

Ben saw you first.

His eyes flicked over you, quick, assessing, then—that nod. That slow, subtle nod to himself, like he was fucking appraising you. Like you were something to be measured, studied, cataloged.

You ignored the way it made your stomach twist.

Instead, your dad’s attention finally snapped toward you, and his brow furrowed.

"I been wonderin’ where the hell that shirt went," he muttered.

You just grinned, gave a smug little shrug, before nudging his leg with your bare foot, signaling for him to move over.

"Looks better on me, anyway."

Your dad snorted. "The hell it does." Then, before you could flop onto the couch, he smacked your foot away. "Grab a couple more beers before you park your ass."

You rolled your eyes, but did as you were told, gripping the hem of the t-shirt and curtseying, voice sickly sweet.

"Yes, sir."

Then you saluted him, just to really drive it home.

"Fuckin’ wiseass," he muttered.

Ben just chuckled, deep in his throat, like he was trying not to laugh.

You disappeared into the kitchen, grabbed three beers, popped the caps off, and pressed two of them against your chest as you sipped from the one in your free hand, the glass cold against your skin.

By the time you returned, the game had picked up speed, your dad too distracted to care when you plopped the bottles down on the coffee table and threw yourself onto the couch between them.

"Could have moved your lazy ass, y’know," you muttered.

Your dad just scoffed, didn’t look away from the screen.

But Ben?

Ben side-eyed you, slow and heavy, and when he spoke—you felt it.

"Keep up the cheek, Lamby, and I’ll take that beer off you."

Your fingers tightened around the bottle.

"Don’t know what the fuck you’re so cocky about," he muttered, tipping his own beer to his lips, voice just this side of gruff. "Stealin’ one of my beers like I gave you any kinda permission to."

Your stomach flipped. But you didn’t let it show. You just sighed, long-suffering, exaggerated as hell, before taking another slow, deliberate sip, the bubbles sharp against your tongue.

And then—you settled. Leaning back, letting yourself sink between them, wedged in the space you’d claimed a thousand times before.

Except this time, it was different. Because this time, you felt Ben. Felt the heat of him, so close, so solid, so unignorable. And it took everything in you not to shiver.

Because even if you were watching the game—

He was watching you.

The game rolled on, the low drone of the commentators mixing with the occasional grumble, scoff, or sharp curse from your dad or Ben. You sat nursing your beer, the bottle cold between your palms, the sharp bite of it against your tongue as you stared at the screen, more focused on the way the room shifted around you than on the game itself.

Your dad was getting tired. You could tell.

He tried to pretend he wasn’t—hiding yawns behind his bottle, stretching in that slow, lazy way that meant his body was giving up on the night before his mind was.

You, on the other hand, were stretching out more. Slow. Casual. Your bare feet crossed at the ankles, propped up on the coffee table, legs long and catching the glint of the TV, skin warm under the flickering glow.

And Ben noticed.

You felt it, even if he didn’t say a word. Instead, he reached for his cigarettes, shaking the pack once before holding it out toward your dad.

Your father just waved a lazy hand, shaking his head. "Not for me, but might as well light one up in here. Don’t drag your ass outside on my account."

Ben just nodded. Grunted. Then—he lit up, fingers steady, bringing the cigarette to his mouth, holding it between his lips as he inhaled, slow and deep.

The scent hit you instantly—smoke and something deeper, something heavy and masculine, something that made the air feel too thick.

Then your dad yawned—loud and unrestrained.

"Shit, I’m beat," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "You’ll gimme a ring tomorrow or somethin’, tell me how it ends?"

Ben just grunted again, smoke curling from his mouth as he nodded.

Your dad turned to you next. "Lock up after him when he heads out, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah," you murmured, waving him off.

He just rolled his eyes before disappearing upstairs.

And then—it was just you and Ben.

You went to shift over, to slide into your father’s now-empty spot, but—

Ben clicked his tongue.

Your breath hitched.

Not because of the sound—but because he didn’t even look at you when he did it. Just sat there, lips still wrapped around his smoke, one arm swinging lazily over the back of the couch, his whole posture relaxed, commanding.

"Stay put."

So you did.

But the shift in weight, the pull of gravity, had you falling into his side—your shoulder brushing up against the heat of his broad chest, pressing up into the space right under his arm.

And that was when it hit you.

The smell of him.

The mix of soap, sweat, beer, and smoke, clinging to his skin, wrapping around you like a hand at the base of your neck. It made your head feel light, your skin too tight, your thighs press together just a little too much.

You took a sip of your beer, trying to steady yourself, trying to act normal.

And then—without really thinking, without really meaning to—you turned to him.

"Can I have a puff?"

He scoffed. Didn’t answer right away. But that was fine, because you were already reaching up, already plucking the cigarette from his lips, bringing it to your own before he could stop you.

And when you took a slow, deep drag, before reaching up and placing it right back between his lips—

The eye contact?

Was fucking unbearable.

The kind of slow, steady hold that made the air thick and stifling, the kind that felt like something physical pressing against your chest.

Your lips curled into a slow, shit-eating grin. And then—you exhaled. Blew the smoke right into his face.

Ben didn’t move. Didn’t react. Not at first.

Just let the smoke roll between you, let the weight of it settle as he stared right into you, eyes heavy-lidded, dark, unreadable.

And then—he smirked, slow and knowing, that cocky, heavy-lidded thing that made your breath hitch even though you refused to let it show.

"You’re fuckin’ trouble."

You just smiled, all sweetness and venom, voice syrupy smooth.

"Learned from the best."

His expression twitched—just a fraction. He let out a slow breath, dragging a hand down his face, before finally pulling the cigarette from his lips. His fingers curled around it loosely, letting the smoke rise, twisting in slow tendrils toward the ceiling.

Then—his voice dropped.

"Nah."

His eyes dragged down over you, slow, tracking every inch. His gaze stopped at your thighs, where your dad’s old t-shirt had ridden up, baring just a little too much of your skin.

Then lower. Down your legs, down to your feet.

"I mean it," he murmured, voice gravel, something heavier lurking beneath it. "You are trouble."

Your mouth went a little dry. But you tilted your chin up anyway, feigning innocence.

"Oh yeah?"

He hummed, a slow, lazy sound, before shifting in his seat.

"Didn’t like the way you looked at me earlier."

That threw you. Your brow furrowed, beer bottle cooling between your palms.

"What?"

His jaw ticked. He flicked the cigarette into the ashtray, exhaling through his nose.

"After that little cocksucker left," he muttered, voice low, cutting, "you looked at me with a sharp little glare. Didn’t fuckin’ like it. Not one bit."

That made your lips twitch.

"Maybe that’s because you were acting like an overbearing ass."

The moment the words left your mouth—

His palm cracked against your bare thigh.

Not hard. Not painful. But sharp. Sudden. Enough to make you yelp. Your whole body jerked, legs snapping together, feet moving off the coffee table—

But before you could fully pull away—

Ben grabbed them. Big hands, rough hands, curling around your ankles as he shifted you in one easy movement, and the momentum sent you falling back against the arm of the couch, spine hitting the worn fabric, breath catching in your throat.

By the time you realised what had just happened—your feet were pinned in his lap. And he was staring at you. Sharp. Knowing. Unreadable.

Your stomach flipped. You squinted at him, eyes narrowing in accusation, your body already on edge, already tense. Because you knew. You knew exactly where this was going.

And Ben knew you knew.

His smirk shifted—turned into something smug as fucking sin. And then, he moved. His free hand dragged along the sole of your foot, fingers skimming, featherlight. A slow, deliberate touch.

Your whole body jolted.

"Ben—"

His fingers danced over your skin again, dragging across the arch of your foot—and you burst into laughter. Sharp, breathless, uncontrollable.

"Shove off, you big asshole—"

He only chuckled, voice gruff, satisfied.

"Better keep your fuckin’ voice down," he muttered, pinning your feet harder, his other hand relentless as he tickled along your soles, grinning as you squirmed. "Or your old man’s gonna come down and bust some heads."

You tried to snap your foot back, tried to twist away, but he was too strong, too big, too fucking relentless.

"Dad’s snoring like two bears having a fight up there—" you gasped between giggled curses, thrashing uselessly. "Not even a nuclear blast’d wake him right now—"

Ben let out a bark of laughter.

"Christ," he muttered, still grinning, his fingers raking over your skin again, making you kick and writhe. "You got a fuckin’ mouth on you."

You writhed in his grip, half-giggling, half-breathless, your muscles burning from the struggle as he pinned your feet down like it was nothing. Like you weighed nothing.

"Gonna fucking kill you," you gasped, still kicking uselessly, your ribs aching from the laughter that you hated, that you didn’t want to be enjoying as much as you were.

"Oh yeah?" Ben drawled, voice low, amused, unbothered as hell. "You ‘n what army, Lamby?"

Your frustration surged, and before you could think—before you could talk yourself out of it—

You got a leg free.

And with one smooth, defiant movement, you lifted your knee, stretched your leg out, and pressed your toes against his jaw, pushing his face away.

"This one," you muttered, breathless, still flushed from the tickling.

And for a second, everything stopped. Because Ben froze, his fingers locked around your ankle, catching it before you could pull away, holding it there.

And then—his gaze dragged down your leg. Slow. Deliberate. Lazy in the way that only meant he was taking his time.

You felt it.

Felt his touch, felt the way his fingers tightened, felt the way his eyes swept over your thigh, over your skin, the places where your dad’s old t-shirt had ridden up, the hem curled high from how you’d been squirming—

And then, he saw.

His stare landed on the place between your thighs, on the thin, soft fabric of your panties, barely visible from the angle you were sitting at.

And your entire body lit on fire. Your stomach plummeted, heat spreading up your spine, over your chest, over your face, until you felt like you were glowing under his gaze, burning under it.

And Ben sucked in a sharp breath.

One second. Two.

Then, suddenly, violently, he shoved your leg back down, his fingers gripping too tight for a beat too long before letting go.

He sat up straighter, bracing his elbows on his knees, reaching for his beer like it was the only thing in the room that made sense.

The bottle tipped against his lips. He took a long pull, his throat working, his jaw tight, his whole body stiff.

You just stared at him. Stared at the way his shoulders rose and fell, the way his fingers twitched against the glass, the way he muttered something too low to catch, barely audible under his breath.

And you wanted.

You wanted so fucking bad—

To crawl into his lap, to trace the sharp edge of his jaw, to tangle your fingers in his hair, pull, make him look at you the way you needed him to.

Because he looked so fucking good like this. Like a mountain of a man, big and broad and sturdy, something you wanted to climb, sink onto, plant your flag in.

Your fingers tightened around your own beer bottle.

You tipped it back, taking a long drink, letting the liquid burn its way down, grounding yourself, steadying yourself.

Then—without a word—you shifted, leaning forward to set the bottle on the table, before settling back into your new spot.

Your feet still in his lap.

Ben didn’t react. Didn’t flinch at the contact, didn’t shove you off. He just watched the game. And after a moment, his hand—big, warm, heavy—started rubbing absentmindedly over the arch of your foot.

The game had all but faded into background noise.

The occasional roar of the commentators, the distant sounds of the crowd—none of it mattered. Not when his hands were on you. Not when he had been absently kneading his thumbs into the arch of your foot for the last ten minutes, rolling slow circles into your skin, his grip firm, practiced, easy.

You could feel the rough heat of his callouses, the way they pressed just right, the way his fingers flexed, working the tension out of your muscles like it was second nature.

And he wasn’t even thinking about it.

That was the best part.

Ben was just sitting there, cigarette balanced between his lips, rubbing slow, absentminded strokes over your skin while he watched the game, like he hadn’t once stopped to consider how fucked this was.

So you smirked.

"Let me bum one."

His fingers paused. Then—a glare. Sharp, lazy, warning.

"Cut it with the fuckin’ lip."

But you weren’t done. You tilted your head, batting your lashes, voice turning syrupy-sweet.

"Oh, come on, Uncle Ben..."

That made his jaw clench.

"Let me bum one," you pressed, pouting, teasing, just to see how far you could push. "You know you wanna."

And then, just to twist the knife—

"Corrupt me a little bit."

That did it.

Ben sucked in a sharp breath, something dark flickering through his eyes, his whole shoulders locking up—

And then his cigarette fell. Right into his lap.

"Shit—!"

He jerked upright, cussing, ash scattering over his jeans, pushing your feet off his thighs, slapping at the embers, brushing at the fabric as he snatched up the cigarette and stubbed it out fast in the ashtray.

You should have felt bad. You didn’t. Because you saw it. The shape of him. The press of something thick and stiff against his thigh. And suddenly—your whole body went hot. Because you weren’t imagining it. He was affected.

You were getting to him.

Your stomach coiled tight with satisfaction, your pulse thudding at the base of your throat, and you barely even thought before you moved.

You sat up slow, shifting forward, reaching for the cigarette in the ashtray, fingers just about to brush it when—

Ben’s hand shot out. Grabbed your wrist. His grip was strong. Firm. Tight enough to hold you in place, but not tight enough to hurt.

And when you turned to look at him, his face was dark. His eyes were on fire.

"Fuckin' quit it," he muttered, voice rough, almost wrecked, something like threat and warning and desperate restraint all tangled together.

And then, just low enough that it sent heat licking down your spine—

"Or I’ll tan your fuckin’ ass and send you up to your bed snifflin’ and sobbin’ like you fuckin’ deserve."

Your breath hitched. The air between you thickened.

His fingers burned into your wrist, his body coiled tight, his chest rising and falling just a little too hard, a little too sharp.

And you? You should have backed down. You should have apologised, pulled away, let the moment die.

But instead—

You just tilted your head, blinked up at him with wide, mock-innocent eyes, voice so quiet it could have almost been sweet.

"Promise?"

Ben went still. Not stiff. Not tense. Just—still. Like a predator right before it pounced.

And you felt it—the moment he cracked. The moment you broke him.

Ben didn’t say anything. Not at first. He just sat back, spine sinking into the couch, exhaling slow and deep through his nose, his fingers still wrapped tight around your wrist.

Then—he shifted. His body sprawled wider, his legs spreading, one arm draping across the back of the sofa, his whole presence turning into something vast and unavoidable, taking up space like he was daring you to crawl into it.

And he patted his lap.

"C’mere."

Your breath stuttered. You should have hesitated. You should have played coy, drawn it out, but you didn’t. You scrambled. Too fast. Too eager. Hands bracing against his shoulders, knees pressing to the outside of his thighs, you climbed into his lap, straddling him, settling into the space he had made for you.

And fuck—he was warm. Solid. Unshakable beneath you. His hands landed on your bare thighs, big and hot, fingers spreading, gripping you just enough to make you feel held.

And then—his eyes lifted to yours.

"You," he murmured, voice low, steady, edged with something raw, "are workin’ my last fuckin’ nerve."

You grinned. Syrupy-sweet, saccharine, the kind of smile that could make a saint burn alive.

"I’m happy to work something else, if you want."

The slap came fast. Sharp. Sudden. His palm cracked against your thigh, just enough to make you jolt, your breath hitching, your fingers tightening where they had settled against his chest.

"Where the hell’s this fuckin’ attitude come from?" He muttered, jaw tight, eyes dark, heavy.

You shrugged, playing at innocence, eyes lidded, mouth curling.

"Dunno." Another shrug, slow, deliberate. "Probably frustration."

That made him squint. Accusing. Waiting. Expecting.

So you tilted your head, batting your lashes, voice dropping into something honey-thick and dangerous.

"I mean…" A pause. A breath. A glance down at his lips before dragging your eyes back up to his. "You ever thought about how hard it’s been for me?"

He didn’t blink.

"Enlighten me."

You leaned in just a fraction, your fingers smoothing over his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath, the warmth of his skin even through his shirt.

"How I’ve had to spend the last few years," you murmured, voice soft, feigning confession, "watching you walk around with your tight shirts, and your big arms, and that beautiful fucking hair and beard that could give a saint bad thoughts."

Ben huffed. Lips parting, breath sharp, eyes dragging over your face like he was looking for something. Then—his fingers squeezed, pressing into your thighs, holding you just a little tighter.

"One to fuckin’ talk," he muttered.

Your stomach flipped.

"Oh yeah?"

Ben scoffed. And then—he let it out.

"Had to put up with you swayin’ around in those little cut-offs—"

His hands slid higher, fingers flexing just beneath the hem of your dad’s t-shirt, thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

"—watchin’ your ass eat ‘em up every time you walked away from me—"

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

"—legs on fuckin’ show, flutterin’ those big eyes at me like you’re fixin’ to get fuckin’ stuffed."

Your whole body flushed with heat. You sucked in a breath, sharp, uneven, lips parting before your tongue darted out, wetting them.

And then—you mock-gasped. Eyes wide, voice soft, laced with something insidious.

"You’re my godfather," you whispered, tilting your head, watching him twitch at the words. "You’re having impure thoughts about me?"

Ben exhaled hard. His grip tightened—just for a second, just long enough to send a pulse between your thighs. Then he groaned. Long. Frustrated. Dropped his head back against the sofa, dragging a rough hand down his face, looking up at the ceiling like he was praying for salvation that wasn’t coming.

And then—his voice. Low. Wrecked. Raw.

"Christ on a cross."

A breath. A sigh.

"Don’t fuckin’ remind me. Your old man’d fuckin' kill me."

Ben’s voice was low, rough, edged with something like guilt—but not enough of it to stop him. His fingers flexed against your thighs, thumbs brushing higher, the pads of them teasing dangerously close to where you wanted him most.

"If he knew the kinda shit I’ve been thinkin’ about you since you turned eighteen—"

Your stomach flipped. Your breath caught, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your whole body going hot at the admission.

Since you turned eighteen. Since you’d beenlegal. Since the world had decided you were fair fucking game.

You gasped, mock-shocked, but real heat licking through your veins.

"What kinda stuff?"

Ben stilled. For a second, he just looked at you, his green eyes burning, pinning you in place. And then, low, quiet, wrecked—

"Stuff that makes me feel like a fuckin’ pervert."

Your stomach dropped. Your whole body tightened, throbbed, ached. And then you laughed. Low. Sweet. Dangerous.

"I’ll show you mine if you show me yours."

Ben grunted, his grip tightening on your thighs, squeezing, pressing.

You tilted your head, grinning down at him, teasing, watching the way his jaw flexed, the way his fingers itched to grab you harder.

"I’ve been thinking about you when I touch myself."

He groaned. His head tipped back, his whole chest rising and falling too fast, too sharp.

Your hands slid up his chest, nails scraping lightly over fabric, feeling the way his body locked up beneath you.

"I think about how your hands would feel between my legs," you whispered.

Another grunt. A sharp inhale, his fingers twitching, his grip bruising, branding.

Your breath shuddered, your body buzzing, your mind spinning with the filth of it all. But you weren’t done.

"I wonder if you’d let me sit on your face."

His whole body went rigid.

"Wonder if I’d feel that nice, clean beard between my thighs—"

Ben rutted up into you.

A sharp, unconscious thrust, his cock pressing up through denim and cotton, so fucking solid that you felt it pulse against you.

You gasped. Your fingers dug into his chest, your whole body throbbing.

But then—his head snapped back up. His eyes met yours again. Dark. Hungry. And then his lips curled.

"You wanna talk about confessions?"

You swallowed, hard.

"Few months back."

His hands slid lower.

"Stole a pair of your panties outta the bathroom."

Your heart stopped. Your breath hitched, caught in your throat, pulse hammering between your ribs.

"Pretty little pink ones," he murmured, low, knowing, like he was fucking testing you. "Little bows on the sides."

You gasped.

"I’ve been looking for those—!"

His smirk deepened. Then—he rolled his hips into you again. The pressure made you whimper, made your head drop forward, your forehead nearly brushing against his.

"You ain’t gettin’ ‘em back."

Your stomach coiled, tight and hot and pulsing.

"Been using ‘em."

Your fingers curled into his shirt, knuckles going white.

"At first, just sniffin’."

Your whole body burned.

"Then the scent went."

Your nails dug into him.

"So I started usin’ ‘em to jerk off."

A sound escaped you, something breathless, wrecked.

His smirk turned downright wicked.

"Not a trace of your scent left in ‘em now, Lamby."

He ground up into you harder, your panties soaked, pressed against the thick ridge of him through his jeans.

"They’re mine now."

You whimpered. Writhed. Because fuck. He was just as wrecked for you as you were for him. And now—neither of you could take it back.

You shouldn’t have said it. You knew it was cruel, knew it was the final fucking push, knew it was only going to break him more—

But you said it anyway.

"If I’d known that sooner," you purred, voice silky, sinful, designed to ruin him, "I would’ve left more out for you."

Ben groaned. Deep, guttural, wrecked, his fingers clamping tight around your thighs as he dragged you along his cock. Slow. Deliberate. Heavy. The ridge of him pressed up against your cunt through your soaked panties, denim rough, thick, a perfect contrast to the slick heat between your thighs.

"You’re a fuckin’ menace," he muttered, gritting his teeth, his hips shifting up just enough to make you gasp. "Been temptin’ me too much."

You gasped. Let your nails scratch over his chest, let your mouth part into a mock-pout, breathless, needy.

"That’s not fair."

Ben huffed, blinking hard, like he was trying not to look at your lips.

"What’s not fair?" he muttered, voice gruff, strained, thick with restraint.

"Knowing I’ve been batting my lashes at you—" you breathed, voice sickly sweet, ruined, eager, "and you’ve been stringing me along."

His fingers twitched.

"Not giving in."

His thighs tensed under yours.

"Not giving me what I deserve."

The slap came sharp. Not as hard as before, but closer. Higher. Right at the crease of your thigh, just barely missing where you wanted it most.

Your whole body jolted. Your breath hitched. Your nails dug into his shoulders, clinging to him.

And then—his voice.

"If I gave you what you deserved," he muttered, voice low, deep, dangerous, a fucking promise, "you wouldn’t be walkin’ right for a week."

A slow, agonising pause.

"And your dad’d know it was me."

Your stomach dropped. A full-body shiver ran down your spine, curling at the base, settling between your thighs. Your fingers twisted in his shirt. Your mouth parted, a small, helpless sound escaping before you could stop it.

And Ben?

Ben felt it. He heard it. And it made him fucking crazy.

"You scared my date off earlier," you gasped, voice small, teasing, ruined. "You owe me now."

Ben’s jaw clenched.

"Should at least make up for it," you whispered, barely any breath behind it, "by letting me touch your cock."

He cursed. Low. Filthy. His fingers dug into your thighs, a full-body shudder raking down his spine, his chest rising and falling like he was barely holding himself together.

Then—his eyes snapped to yours. Dark. Sharp. Unforgiving.

"You sure?"

The words came gritted, strained, wrecked.

You nodded. Didn’t hesitate. Didn’t second guess. Just nodded. And that was it. That was the final straw.

Ben moved fast.

His hand shot up your thigh, rough and unhesitating, fingers hooking under your panties, yanking them to the side—

And then he was inside you. Two thick fingers, stretching you, filling you, sinking to the knuckle in one sharp, devastating push.

You gasped, body arching, your forehead nearly bumping into his.

Ben groaned. His other hand snapped up, tangled into your hair, gripping the back of your neck, pulling you down, down, down—

And then—

He kissed you. Hard. Desperate. Ruining. His mouth slotted over yours like it belonged there, like he had been starving for it, like he couldn’t fucking breathe without it.

His fingers plunged deep, curling, pressing up against the spot that made you quake, made you whimper right into his mouth.

"Keep your fuckin’ voice down," he muttered against your lips, licking into you, filthy, hot, deep.

You moaned, soft, helpless, rocking into his fingers, clenching down on them, your breath shuddering, uneven, wrecked.

"That’s it," he breathed, groaning, his teeth catching your bottom lip, tugging, biting.

His hand tightened at the back of your neck, holding you in place, keeping you locked against him.

"You’re a soaked little thing, huh?"

You whimpered.

He dragged his fingers deeper.

"All this for me?"

Another groan, another thrust of his fingers, sharper this time, rougher, working you open.

"Fuckin’ hell," he rasped, swallowing your moans, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, groaning as he sucked, wet and hot and desperate.

His tongue slid past your lips, licked into you, a full-bodied claim, filthy, unrelenting.

And you—

You couldn’t think.

You could only cling to him, whimper into his mouth, lose yourself in the feeling of his fingers inside you, wrecking you, coaxing you closer to something you’d never felt before.

@mostlymarvelgirl <3

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