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formulawolff · 8 months ago

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xi. larger than life - t.w.

pairing: female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 3.6k

warnings: cursing, banter, teasing, flirting, mentions of sex, a teeny bit of angst, THIS IS PROBABLY THE MOST DOWN BAD TOTO HAS EVER BEEN, lewis being a little shit, alcohol use, marijuana use, yadayadayada

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“hey, there’s someone here to meet you. i think you’ll shit your pants once you see him.”

alex stands beside you, beaming as you wave goodbye to ben. it was early friday morning, around nine-thirty in the morning. since it was a more relaxed day, with the practice session the only obligation in your schedule, you had your parents stationed at the lounge area.

they were seated with lily, who was very eager to spend some time with them. after all, since alex was busy, she had no one to talk to. so, you figured it would be nice if they all had one another for company.

however, tomorrow was qualifying, where it would determine your place on the grid.

which, to you, that lap tomorrow was everything.

the defining moment of the weekend.

“who?” you raise a brow, “who could it–”

as you glance over your shoulder, your heart skips a beat as you see james engaged in deep conversation with him, the team principal chuckling, pointing to you. the visitor is dressed in a cream suit, a white button-up underneath, jet-black sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. swallowing the lump in your throat, you stroll towards him, running an absentminded hair through your hand.

“good morning!”

the words are almost a squeak, and you internally kick yourself.

the visitor’s lips curl upward, flashing a pearly white grin, “¡buenos dias! ¡bienvenida a miami!”

standing before you was none other than pitbull, mr. worldwide, mr. three-oh-five. rather than shaking your hand, he opens his arms, pulling you in for a warm embrace. you were probably sweating from the nerves and the humidity, but you didn’t care.

while you had met celebrities in your brief time as a formula one driver, most of them were european. so, you weren’t really quite familiar with their fame or starpower through football, rugby, television, and well, business. there were so many wealthy moguls who came through the paddock at the races, james and alex recognizing them in an instant.

on the other hand, you felt awkward, as you usually had no idea who that person was or what exactly they did.

so, to finally meet someone you were familiar with and recognized, in your home country, was a moment to cherish.

and well, you were a little starstruck.

“i’m going to admit, i don’t know much about formula one,” the singer shrugs, “but i figured i would come through and say hello.”

“well i’m honored,” a giggle bubbles up in your throat, “have you met with any of the other teams?”

“not yet,” he shakes his head, shooting you a wink, “this is my first stop. mostly because there is a very beautiful woman who drives for this team. do you know her, by chance?”

your eyes widen as you realize he’s referring to you. heat rushes into your cheeks, your palms clamming up, “oh my gosh – um, –”

“my apologies señorita,” he places a tender hand on your shoulder, “i know you have much bigger things to worry about. i wish you the best of luck today! make miami proud!”

“i will,” relief ripples as he leans in, pecking your cheek before waving goodbye, strolling away from the entrance of the paddock, security team in tow.

“jesus christ,” alex’s voice sounds from behind you, “he would fuck anyone, wouldn’t he?”

“stop it,” you hiss, swiveling on your heel, “he was just being nice.”

“yeah, yeah,” alex scoffs, rolling his eyes, “anyways, i noticed the other day you posted another set of photos on instagram. one of them had that mystery man in it. who is he? why hasn’t he come to the paddock yet?”

“because he’s been busy,” that wasn’t a lie by any means. the team principal was quite busy this morning, merely a few paddocks over, “i will see if he come to the next race. i doubt it, though.”

“what does he do again?” alex inquires, sitting on top of some equipment, “i think you told me but i forgot.”

“he’s in management,” well, that was half the truth, “he manages a sports team.”

“what team?”

“the new soccer team in st. louis,” firing back, you shrink a little under alex’s intense gaze, his lips pursed, brows furrowed, “since it’s only their second year, he’s been busy with promotional stuff. events, traveling, you know.”

“right,” alex sucks in a breath, “also, i know it wasn’t anything serious, but i was a little nervous when you posted those photos of the mercedes campus. i know there have been some rumors, but i would hope that you would talk to me if you were ever thinking about leaving williams–”

“oh, she’s never leaving us!” james’ voice chips in, the team principal coming up from behind you, “she’s stuck with us till 2026!”

at the sureness in james’ tone, your heart sinks.

fuck, this was getting complicated.

as you stood with james and alex, the topic shifting to the newest modifications on the cars, your heart thumped, pounding against your rib-cage. inside your mind, it was a tumultuous, chaotic mess.

your heart yearned to be with toto, yet you were so comfortable with williams. you were happy here, really. you had an amazing relationship with james, alex was like an older brother, and you couldn’t be any more grateful for the support your team had given you. since the beginning, they had made it very clear that they were one hundred percent confident in your capabilities, often reassuring you that were a talented driver with a very successful future ahead.

how could you just abandon williams like that? leaving them high and dry like that? with no warning either?

you could only picture the disappointment, the confusion, and the bitterness that would plague james’ features as you inform him of your decision.

god, that thought alone was enough to tear your heart into two.

sure, there were rumors. since that post with the mercedes headquarters, fans were buzzing with suspicions that there were contract talks. that you were going to announce your departure from williams any day now. that you were going to join toto wolff at mercedes.

since it was friday, there were only a couple of days before toto would ask about your decision. in that time frame, you needed to speak with james regarding the subject, fill alex in, focus on the practice sessions, make the most out of your qualifying lap, spend time with your parents, and most of all, focus on driving.

with less than forty-eight hours until then, time was of the essence.

and fuck, were you running out of that precious time.

a few paddocks over, a team principal raises an arm, waving to fans as they shout, a driver on his left, the other on his right.

“are you going to see her tonight?”

lewis’ question is innocent as they enter the garage, members of the pit crew swarming and flurrying about. they chirp greetings as the three gather around the cars, examining them.

toto exhales, inspecting the right wing, “you two are worse than the wags. i have never met people more invested in someone’s love life the way you two are.”

“well now that the cat’s out of the bag,” george crouches by a tire, “we get to pester you about it.”

the casualness of the conversation as the entire team was in earshot sent the team principal spiraling, his jaw clenching as bono approached them clipboard in hand, “you two also need to learn the importance of time and place.”

“we’ll just talk more about it later then,” toto curses as he notices lewis bearing a smug smirk, “after the practice session, we’re going to do a deep dive addressing your feelings–”

“good morning,” bono clears his throat, “did i walk into something important?”

“no, not at all,” toto shoots lewis an icy glare as george bites on his lip, stifling a chuckle, “let’s get to business. how are the cars?”

as peter began his report, toto couldn’t help but let his mind wander.

besides, it was not like he could focus these days anyway.

the team principal absolutely despised the hectic schedules of the race weekend. how he was constantly rotating between briefings, meetings with the engineers and mechanics, promotional events, sponsorship talks, and well, managing the two juveniles otherwise known as lewis hamilton and george russell.

then, there was the reason why they were all here. the race itself.

now, he had another pressing matter weighing on his mind.

three people were aware of his developing relationship with a certain williams driver. while he knew that two of the three would protect his secret, he was extremely cautious about the third. after all, the girl was only nineteen years old. she was young and impressionable. lewis’ little stunt with the cash proved that the girl was easily influenced.

however, as much as he wanted to fire the girl, he knew that he couldn’t.

at least, not during race weekend. that would be downright cruel.

monday would probably be a different story.

yet, if he fired her, would she just blackmail him? would she threaten to release the information involving him and his golden girl?

just the thought of her leaking that information to the press was panic-inducing enough.

he could offer her a hefty sum to stay quiet. but he couldn’t do that either. down the road, she could end up exposing him for paying hush money.

being romantically involved with a woman thirty years younger than him and offering his former assistant hush money to keep quiet on the matter?

that would send his entire world crashing down, bursting into flames in the process.

he would lose everything.

for the time-being, toto would just have to hold onto shreds of hope that his assistant would remain silent on the matter. maybe if he didn’t mention it, she wouldn’t either.

he would be okay with that.

on the other hand, his drivers were adamant that they wouldn’t say anything, swearing up and down that if preserving this little secret was this important to him, then they would abide by his wishes. at first, george was hurt that he was excluded from the conversation. he was angry that out of anyone toto could have chosen, he chose her.

yet, as toto recalled every little detail of his relationship with the williams driver, george’s bitterness dissolved, transitioning to some sort of understanding. toto thought he kept things brief as he explained his feelings, but the three were cooped up in his office for nearly three hours discussing the matter.

besides, it wasn’t like he chose the williams driver.

it just sort of happened.

now, here he was, pacing back and forth in the paddock, aching for even a glimpse of her. the rift between the two was driving him utterly insane, the team principal resisting the urge to take an impromptu visit, popping in for just a moment. just hearing the sound of her voice would be enough.

yet, he knew he couldn’t. it would raise too many eyebrows. it would stir up too much gossip.

“look at him,” lewis elbows george, “looking quite pitiful once again.”

“i feel bad for him,” george exhales, “i can’t be away from carmen for too long before going absolutely mad. i can’t imagine how he feels.”

“being so close to someone yet so far?”

“exactly,” george nods, “do you think he’s in love? he wouldn’t say it directly, but whenever he was talking about her, i could just tell. i saw the way his eyes lit up, the way he was giggling like a schoolgirl, and the way he couldn’t help but fight a smile. and not just any old smile.”

“oh he’s totally in love,” lewis remarks, “do you hear how he talks about her? he speaks with this softness. it’s cute, really. it makes me want to throw up but it’s cute.”

“do you think he’ll tell her?”

as the driver shifts his attention back to the team principal, he tuts, “not now, but soon.”

“how soon?” george presses, “because he looks quite pathetic over there, like a little lovesick puppy.”

“i’m willing to bet by the time we’re in monaco, he won’t be able to hold it in any longer.”

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“i feel the need, the need for speed!”

letting out a shaky breath, your fingers grip the steering wheel, so tightly you were sure your knuckles were white underneath the fabric of your gloves.

this was it.

the miami grand prix.

as you sail through the track, surprisingly, you feel nothing but peace, james’ voice over the radio barely audible. you felt like you were enduring an out-of-body experience the way your mind raced yet your body remained still, acting on pure instinct. your foot on the gas, tapping on the brakes every so often.

this was lap fifty-six out of fifty-seven.

the final stretch.

you were almost there. so close now. so close you could taste it.

behind you was lando norris of mclaren, max verstappen closing in quickly. charles leclerc tails max, desperate for the thrill of a podium.

the anticipation was growing as you near the finish line, the checkered flag waving in the distance.

was this a dream? were you really here?

squeezing your eyes shut, you blink, in a desperate attempt to distinguish reality from fantasy. yet, there’s a moment of silence as you make out the stands in your field of vision, as if everyone was holding their breath at once.

then, it all comes bursting in your ears. the roar of the crowd. the thundering of the engines. the booming of fireworks. it was almost deafening as your car slows, foot easing on the brakes.

“and she’s done it again! we just witnessed a moment in history!”

oh god.

you did it.

you won.

euphoria fills you to the brim as you scramble out of the car, climbing on top of it. pumping your fists in the air, tears flood your visor, blurring anything and everything all around. members of the williams team come sprinting towards the car, hollering and shouting. adrenaline courses through your veins, a tingling sensation buzzing from your fingers to your toes.

cameras flash as you raise your index fingers, members of the team following in suit.

you were one-of-one.

and by god, were you going to show the world that you were just that.

the world was going to know your name, whether they watched formula one or not. your name was going to be broadcasted all over sports channels for weeks to come. your name was going to printed on merchandise, jerseys, on everything and anything related to williams racing.

you made history today as the first american driver to win the miami grand prix. not only that, but you were the first american female driver to win two grand prixes consecutively.

and god, did that taste so sweet on your tongue.

jumping down, you’re greeted by james’ arms, the team principal rattling your helmet.

“great fucking job! great fucking job! you are fucking insane!”

ripping off your helmet, you catch your breath, taking in the moment. this felt larger than life. like a dream come true.

this was one of the best days of your life.

if not, the best day of your life.

and god, were you going to savor every moment of it.

each and every second.

the hours following the race were a blur. although you typically shied away from the press, you lost count of the number of journalists who approached you, answering each one of their questions with genuine, thoughtful answers. fans of all ages snapped photos with you, congratulating you with nothing but sincerity in their words. you signed some jerseys, some caps, and one woman even asked you to sign across her chest.

how could you refuse a photo worthy moment like that?

your parents were immensely proud, tears streaming down their cheeks as they wrapped their arms around you. although you wanted to spend the rest of the evening with them, they urged you to go out and celebrate. there was always time tomorrow, as they were flying out early in the morning tuesday.

so, when the boys offered to take you out to a few clubs across miami, you accepted it.

now, the bass pounded as you sway back and forth, screaming along with lando, oscar, carlos, charles, and alex as the music plays. lily tagged along, hovering alex, giggling as you chug another drink, the taste of alcohol lingering on your tongue.

“how does it feel to be a winner-winner?”

“pretty fucking good,” a few drops trickle down your chin, and you quickly wipe them away, “do you think i could win the next one?”

“ummm, let me think,” lily brings a hand to her chin, pausing momentarily, “yes!”

“you’re absolutely unfuckingbelievable,” lando nods enthusiastically, “you will probably win the world championship if we don’t up the pace!””

all of you were extremely tipsy, cheeks burning from the buzz of the alcohol and packed space. lewis and george came too, but they kept their distance, remaining at the bar while the rest of you were on the dance floor.

not only were you tipsy, but someone had offered you a few puffs of a joint while you were in line outside of the club. actually, they offered you the entire joint because the second they saw you, they immediately recognized you.

at that point, you had already pregamed at the hotel with the boys beforehand. so, how could you refuse a few hits of a joint? that would have been downright rude.

across the dance floor, lewis hamilton sits, perched at the bar, drink in hand.

it’s not like he came along to purposefully watch the williams driver. he just wanted to ensure that you would make it back to your motorhome by the end of the night.

cause god knew how fucked up the others were. they weren’t in any state to help you get home, safe and sound. fuck, none of you were in any coherent state to even call an uber.

plus, god only knew if you would run into anyone from the press or media. and who knows what you would possibly say if you were asked about a certain team principal.

“should i call toto?” george leans over, his voice slightly raised, “she looks gone.”

“hmmm,” lewis hums, his eyes following your every move as you stumble a couple of steps, “i don’t think a call would hurt.”

“now?”

“now,” lewis’ jaw clenches as he sets his drink on the bar, “call toto and get my card, would you? i’m going to wrangle our newfound friend.”

“should we have toto come get her or what should we do?”

rising to his feet, lewis surveys the crowd. it was packed beyond belief, inches between bodies as they moved to the rhythm. toto meeting them here would be far too risky. too many eyes and ears.

“call him and tell him that we’re going to help get her to the motorhome. or we can take her directly to his hotel room. i imagine she would prefer to sleep in her own bed. you know what? just have him meet us at her motorhome.”

“will do,” george nods, “i’m going to step outside to make the call. meet me out there once you find her?”

“sounds like a plan,” lewis suppresses a groan as the lights in the club are dimmed, more so than they previously were. everyone blended together, forming one giant mass.

this was going to be fun.

in his hotel room, toto wolff lays in bed, laptop resting on his nightstand. although he was oh so happy for you and your accomplishments today, there was this aching feeling gnawing away at him, nearly consuming him whole.

out his window, the lights of miami glitter, casting a soft glow over the city. the view from his room was oh so beautiful, especially at this time of night. however, it wasn’t nearly as stunning as you were.

fuck, he missed you.

more than anything.

he longed to hold you against his chest. he yearned to pepper your forehead with kisses. he wanted you, desperately.

actually, he needed you.

but he wouldn’t admit that.

suddenly, his phone buzzes, startling him slightly. plucking it off the mattress, the screen is illuminated with a photo of george.

hmph. that’s odd.

tapping on the green icon, the team principal brings the phone to his ear, “hallo?”

in the background, he hears a voice. not any old voice. your voice, barely audible, but enough that he knows it's yours.

“hey it’s george. she’s absolutely obliterated right now. we’re going to call for an uber, and bring her to her place. can you meet us there? i think she really needs you.”

“is she okay?” almost instantly, he sits up, “how long will you be?”

“are you calling toto?” his heart flutters as she giggles, the sound oh so angelic, “oh my gosh! is he on the phone right now? can i talk to him? pleaseee george? can i? please?”

“put her on the phone, george,” toto brings a hand to his temple, momentarily embarrassed at the desperation dripping in his tone, “please.”

there’s a shuffling noise as the phone is transferred, her voice, so delicate and sweet, pours into his ear.

“can you come over? i miss you so much. please, daddy. come over.”

“oh shit,” toto squeezes his eyes shut as he hears lewis’ chuckle in the background, “i’m not letting that one go.”

“i’ll be on my way soon, schatzi. do you need anything? it sounds like you need some water and some rest.”

“ummm yeah,” god, she was going to be the death of him, “i do need one thing.”

“and that is?” he’s on his feet now, shoving clothes into an overnight bag, “what do you need, schatzi?”

“your dick.”

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taglist: @younxii @toldyouitwasamelodrama @kravitzwhore @persona1lies @pucksandpower @k3ira13 @prettiest-at-the-party @martwll @annewithaneofthegreengable @zoeyjadetice2010 @sinners-98-world @laura-naruto-fan1998 @nebarious @joalslibrary @swifth0lic @statuewoman @strangegirl974 @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @m-1234 @whoisss @msbyjackal

as always, if you would like to be added, or forgot to be added, please let me know! thank you for all of the support on this series! i love y'all so much! <3

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mpreglover225 · 1 month ago

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Exhibit: 1990s Male Pregnancy Portrait – “Field of New Beginnings” Photographer Unknown, Circa 1997]

In this vibrant outdoor shot, Raymond Dawson (left) and Harvey David (right) pose in an expansive, sunlit field. Miguel is seven months pregnant, his shirt removed to showcase the gentle curve of his growing abdomen in the golden late-afternoon light. Clasping hands, the two dads exchange easy smiles—an image of warm intimacy set against a rural American backdrop.

A Modern Love Story (1990s Style) The couple first crossed paths at the Bearer’s Ball, an annual event that had quietly sprouted in major cities during the early 1990s. Organized by a loose network of “bearers” (men who wished to conceive) and prospective partners, these gatherings functioned partly as social mixers and partly as safe spaces for men exploring male pregnancy. Raymond had attended the ball in hopes of meeting someone who shared his vision of parenthood; Miguel came on a whim, persuaded by friends who insisted it was the perfect place to make sincere connections. Fatefully, they struck up a conversation near the punch bowl, bonding over shared family values and a love for folk music.

Within a year, they were engaged—spurred on by the prospect of starting a family together. When they learned that Miguel had conceived, they decided to mark this chapter in their lives with a maternity photo shoot. The photographer captured them in a seemingly endless field, symbolizing the uncharted territory they were forging as a same-sex couple choosing to welcome a child in a world only beginning to acknowledge male pregnancy.

A Pregnancy at Seven Months By the time of this picture, Miguel was well into his third trimester, feeling equal parts excitement and apprehension. Morning sickness had passed, replaced by near-constant cravings for peanut butter and jam sandwiches and a mild but persistent ache in his lower back. Despite a hectic schedule—balancing part-time work with prenatal visits—Miguel found solace in nesting rituals like assembling a vintage crib and organizing the nursery in the small home they rented together.

Plans for an Unmedicated Hospital Birth Unlike some bearers who preferred home births or birthing centers, Miguel’s ideal scenario was an unmedicated hospital birth. He and Raymond felt reassured by having medical professionals nearby, yet they wanted minimal intervention if everything proceeded normally. They’d attended Lamaze-style classes tailored for male pregnancies, embracing relaxation and partner coaching techniques. Raymond, eager to be Miguel’s rock during labor, practiced supportive measures—firm handholds, soothing words, and breathing guidance.

In this portrait, viewers observe not only two men in love but a testament to evolving social tides. Once relegated to underground events like the Bearer’s Ball, their commitment to conceive and raise a child is immortalized in an image that captures tenderness and resolve. Their story speaks to the burgeoning acceptance—still new and fragile in the 1990s—of male pregnancy and the families formed by these determined pioneers.

#male pregnancy #mpreg #mpreg belly #mpreg kink #pregnantman #mpreg birth #mpreg art #mpreg ai

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christinarowie332 · 1 year ago

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stupid horny fucks .

chris sturniolo x reader (smut)

warnings: accidental dick pic lmao . smut ovs ? quick fuck . possible angst if u squint . possible series . not proof read

in which : chris accidentally sends his bestfriend a none PG photo …….. resulting in tears of tension being released…. but was it a mistake?

ps : don’t send unsolicited nudes , it’s weird as fuck . this is heavily fiction . don’t be a weirdo .

————

the room was a calm environment, me , nick, matt and chris all sat in dim lighting from the tv , my legs sprawled over nicks lap on the couch as we all relax in our shared space. this was a normal night for us all , a movie in the background, snacks and drinks arrayed out as we all engage in absent minded easy conversations. chris was quieter tonight. i notice as i allways do , subconsciously focussed on him , it’s hard not to be when your surrounded by things that remind you of him , and of course himself . i’ve always felt wierd with chris . it’s not all the time . 70% of the time he’s just an annoying, loud , funny , sweet friend . same with nick and matt . but that 30% , that’s something even chris himself couldn’t get out of me . god he’s attractive. the way his legs are spread , his sweatpants pressing against his dick , the shadow of his bulge basically begging to be touched. his fluffy hair , swept against his features , the loose curls lightly lay on his forehead. his sharp facial features being illuminated by his phone screen as he looks down to it , his pink lips puckered as he concentrates. god everything about him just makes my skin crawl , goosebumps literally growing on the skin of my arms at the thoughts that run through my head. the way his veiny hands would look around my neck. the low tank top he’s wearing , and how his sleek collarbones would feel on my lips . fuck .

i cross my legs on nicks lap , squeezing them together to relieve the growing tension between them . nicks head turns towards me , his confused expression catching my attention. “you good?” he asks , shifting himself on the sofa , his voice making matt and chris glance over at us .

“i’m fine , just getting comfortable” i send him a reassuring smile after speaking , all three of the brothers attention going back to the tv or phones . thank god . i try to distract myself from my thoughts (chris), pulling my phone from beneath my body on the cushioned seat . i open snapchat and start scrolling through my recent snaps , random guys , my friends , team snapchat (wow i have no life) . i start snapping them back , ceilings , selfies . chris . i open his snap and it’s just a normal photo of him , sexy as fuck ,but just a normal face snap , i send him one back and carry on with the rest of them .

after a while , i’m watching a instagram reel and get a chat notification from chris . i look up at him with furrowed eyebrows. “chris i’m literally in the same room as you why are u snapping me ?” i ask , waving my hand around with my phone in its grasp . he doesn’t look at me as he responds, his thumb still lazily scrolling on his phone. i roll my eyes beofre opening the chat . said eyes basically fall out of my head when i open it . i audibly gasp and my head shoots towards chris , making literally everyone look at me .

“sorry.” i replies to their stares , i watch all three of their attentions go back to their original places , before chris’s head snaps towards me , his eyes wide and jaw muscles clenched . the photo he sent me , was probably the last thing i ever thought i would see . his dick . in all it’s glory , veins decorated up the shaft , towards his tip , pre cum dripping down the side . it was fucking huge . i look down at my now vibrating phone in my hand , chris frantically texting me .

chris | I DIDNDTTT MENBA TO SEND THET

: DONT FUCKIJG SAY ANYTHING.

: Y/N

: OLESSE

: THAT WAS NOT MEANT FOR YOU

: bro i’m so sorry

: please just forget u saw that

: nah im actually sorry

it takes me a few seconds to contain myself . before i decide to text him back .

me | chris bro it’s literally fine .

chris | i’m so sorry

: i’m acc so sorry

me | chris .

: i said it’s fine .

chris | are u sure ? i’m so fucking sorry .

me | why are u sorry ???? that’s a nice ass dick .

why the fuck would i say that . chris’s bitmoji stops typing . and just stays still for a while before i see a new message.

chris | my room . five mins .

me | i’m going now . follow me idfc

i immediately get up from my seat , throwing to phone to the sofa and twlling the boys i’m going to bed . i make it to chris’s room in seconds , leaving the door open and waiting for him there . it’s a minute until i watch him speed into the room and slam the door behind him , walking towards me and grabbing my neck to slam his lips onto mine .

the kiss is fast and needy , clothes being torn off as our lips collide and tongues explore each others mouths . he leads me to the bed in just his boxers , and unclips my bra before dropping me onto his mattress . he watches the recoil from the springs in his bed make my tits bounce , a small smirk playing on his lips beofre climbing on top of me and attaching his mouth onto my neck .

he pries out small wimpers as he bites and sucks on my skin , leaving bruises up to my ear and over my chest , my hips thrusting forwards to reach his bulge , aiming for any friction as the tingling between my thighs intensifies .

“are you sure ?” he breathes into my neck , it’s like all i’ve been relying on is pure instinct, his words barley make it into my head and i’m drunk in his touch . “yes fuck , just hurry up and fuck me” i reply, lurching my hands to his face and bringing him up from my chest, reattaching our lips . his fingers make his way to my clothed pussy , his middle finger drawing circles over my swollen clit . his muscles contort as he moves , curved shadows against his pale skin . the veins running up his forearm from his slender fingers .perfectly smooth and sharp at the same time . “so needy……” he says moving his fingers upwards before putting them under my underwear, running his cold finger between my folds . “and so fucking wet” he continues, making his way to my clit with his fingers , making me lift into his touch and moaning at the sensation. he continues his movements placing his knee forward towards my heat , slowly prying my legs open so he has better access , slowly increasing the speed making me a whimpering mess underneath him .

he pulls his fingers away and swiftly takes off his boxers , pumping his dick a couple of times before placing the tip at my entrance and running it through my folds . “are u one hundred perfect sure?” he asks , i nod frantically, readjusting my self underneath him making myself comfortable. “words baby , you know i would love to fuck you sensless but right now i need your words”

“YES CHRIS JUST FUCK ME”. i raise my voice , i see his eyes flicker and an eyebrow raise before he slams into me , a smirk growing on his face as he watches me sink into the bed , all confidence gone as he pounds into me. “JESUS FUCK , fuck” i allmost scream as he thrusts into me, my hands slapping his back , nails digging into his back at the feeling .

his hair flops against his forehead at each thrust , groans and heavy breathing falling from his lips. his hands hold his up as he towers over me , silencing my own cries of pleasure with his mouth on mine still sloppily placing kisses on my lips before moving down my neck. “your doing so well , i’m so close baby i’ve wanted this for so- fuck” he breathes out as he keeps thrusting , each minute pulling energy and sweat from our body’s as we both edge closer to our release . my hands hold his shoulders pulling myself into him to deepen his reach into me , feeling his ruthless abuse of my g spot , not allowing any thoughts to come from my brain . quite literally fucking me senseless .

“FUCK , chris i’m so close , CHRIS don’t stop please” i plead to him , making his speed pick up . “me too mama me too , come baby please” he says as his finger moves towards my clit , the circles matching his thrusts as he eggs my release on . i feel his dick twitch inside of me , at this i feel myself completely release around him , loud moans being silence as his hand rests on my throat as he kisses me through my orgasm . moments later i feel him also topple over the edge fulling out and feeling warm strings of cum coat my stomach and chest .

he flops down next to , his chest heaving and loose curls wet slightly around his neck with sweat .

“what the fuck just happened” i say looking over to him

he just stares at the ceiling .

what the fuck just happened .

————

i’m so drunk rn this is such a mess .

————

taglist :

@mangosrar @soursturniolo @biimpanicking @kvtie444 @kenzieiskoolaid @cabincorematt @urmyslxt @chrisenthusiast @mattsd0ll @iheart2021chris @recklesssturniolo @lovingsturniolo @loveesiren @paper-crab @daddyslilchickenfingers @strniohoeee @ermdontmindthisaccount @sturnphilia @bluesturniolo333 @lea0518 @chrisolivia4l @its-jennarose @kitaysworld @liz-stxr @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @mattslolita

———

side note : i love u all sm , like acc . sorry for the delay in the fics but i hate posting shit that’s half assed or rushed , and i like to make sure that my shits realistic to the boys . you know ? hope y’all still love me LMAO !!!

-🍼

#chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #milkietalks #chris sturniolo x reader #milkie is down bad #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo imagines #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 11 months ago

Text

Never Have I Ever (Part 4) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Civilian Contractor! Reader (Callsign: Dove)

Length: 3.9k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Female Reader with a Callsign and Family, but no Physical Description or Name; Not Necessarily Healthy Decisions/Coping Mechanisms; Slow Burn; Coworkers to Friends to Lovers; Oblivious Idiots; Excessive Pining; Jealousy; Adult Situations

Summary: Phoenix takes Dove out for a girls' day. Jake proceeds to lose his shit.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Master List

“You’re not doing anything with Dove today?” Coyote asked Jake as they jogged their normal route.

“No, she said that Phoenix was taking her out.”

“What’re they doing?”

“I don’t know. Dove didn’t say,” Jake stated, shrugging his shoulders.

~~~~~

# 44 - Gotten a Pedicure

“So, what are we doing next?” Dove asked Phoenix.

They sat side by side at a nail salon, getting a pedicure together. And Dove, even though salons usually gave her anxiety, was enjoying herself. It helped to have Phoenix with her.

“I thought we’d start small and work our way up,” Phoenix replied, turning to Dove.

“Like what?”

“We’ll just have a girls day. Do stuff that you wouldn’t do if Hangman was with you,” Phoenix stated, causing Dove to nod. “Maybe stuff that you’ve wanted to do for a while, but just never got around to doing.”

“I can think of a few things.”

~~~~~

# 45 - Bought Fishnet Stockings

“I don’t know what I’ll wear these with,” Dove admitted as she picked out a pair of fishnet stockings from the rack. “But I’ve always wanted a pair.”

“And that’s why we’re doing this,” Phoenix stated, steering Dove towards the cashier.

~~~~~

# 46 - Gone Wedding Dress Shopping

“Nat, I feel bad,” Dove whispered to Phoenix as they looked through the racks of dresses. “There’s actual brides here.”

“So what? Just pick some dresses. You’re not hurting anyone.”

As Dove continued to browse through the dresses, a consultant approached them. She greeted them kindly and Dove tried to not sweat when she was confronted with the fact that she was not engaged and she was here with a fake engagement ring and a made up fiance.

“So, you’re the bride to be?” the consultant asked Dove, who smiled sheepishly.

“Yes, I am.”

“When’s your wedding?”

“Next summer,” Dove stated noncommittally.

“Oh, so you have time. Tell me what you’re looking for.”

Dove listed off some details that she had considered for her actual wedding dress. With those details in mind, the consultant led Dove and Phoenix around the store, picking out some dresses and asking Dove about her fake wedding. Phoenix was calm beside her but Dove was not similarly relaxed.

“So, tell me about your groom,” the consultant stated, causing Dove to sweat some more. “Do you have any pictures of the two of you?”

“Uh, yeah, of course, I do,” Dove laughed nervously.

Shooting Phoenix a look, Dove pulled out her phone. The photo of her and Jake from when they were stuck up on the ferris wheel together the night before popped up first and Dove showed it to the consultant to get it over with.

“Oh, you two are adorable together.”

“Thank you.”

“What’s his name?”

“Jake,” Dove answered honestly. Because it was Jake in the photo.

“And how’d you two meet?”

“We work together.”

“And how long have you been together for?”

“Eight months,” Dove lied easily.

Dove had been at her position at NAS North Island for eight months. It had been eight months since she had been assigned to the Dagger Squad.

“I know it seems rushed, but—” Dove started to over-explain.

“—When you know, you know,” the consultant assured Dove, smiling kindly. She lifted up the wedding dresses that they had already picked out. “I’ll go put these in a dressing room. Come back after you’ve done your last look through.”

“Thank you.”

The consultant walked away, leaving Dove and Phoenix alone for a moment. Dove could feel Phoenix’s gaze on her, but didn’t meet her stare.

“Freudian slip?” Phoenix suggested to Dove.

“Shut up.”

~~~~~

# 47 - Gone into a Lingerie Store

“I already hate this and we’re only in the parking lot,” Dove sighed, staring up at the store.

“Why?”

“Because the women who work in these stores are the most judgmental, aggressive, and condescending salespeople on the planet,” Dove huffed, turning to Phoenix with an annoyed expression. “Why do you think I stay away from these places?”

“If they act that way, we’re going to tell them to mind their business. Now, come on.”

Dove sighed, but got out of the car anyway. She followed Phoenix into the store and was relieved to find that it was not overrun with judgy salespeople. Then again it was midday on a weekday and there appeared to only be two salespeople in the entire store.

“You’ll be fine,” Phoenix repeated, before dragging Dove deeper into the store.

~~~~~

Jake sat around with the other Daggers—minus Phoenix—for a lazy afternoon, floating around ideas for that night. Jake, bored with the conversation already, pulled out his phone and looked at Dove’s list for any updates.

Pedicure . . . fishnets . . . wedding dress . . . lingerie?

Quickly setting his phone back down, Jake turned back to the conversation, trying and failing at looking casual. And to not let his mind wander too far.

~~~~~

# 48 - Bought Lingerie

“Buy for yourself, not for anyone else. Buy something that makes you feel good.”

“I’m just looking for something that I can actually get into at this point,” Dove replied, grimacing as she picked up another set. “I mean, what is the point of all of these ribbons? I feel like I’m going to trip and slam my head into the wall trying to get into this thing.”

“Just find something that works for you. Don’t worry about all of this extra crap.”

Dove looked through what felt like half a store’s worth of options before she settled on a simpler set. Nothing too crazy, but the lace pattern was appealing and it was surprisingly soft. And the look of the bra alone made her feel confident about herself.

If only she had something or someone to wear it for.

~~~~~

# 49 - Gone to an Adult Shop

“Come on, it’s no big deal,” Phoenix stated, pulling Dove into the store. “You already bought lingerie. This is just another step in that process.”

Dove winced when she saw some of the items that were up on the wall. She turned back to Phoenix, practically clutching her metaphorical pearls.

“Where the hell is that supposed to go?” Dove glanced down at her pelvis before turning back to Phoenix with a slightly terrified expression. “I don’t have space for that! No one has space for that. Where the hell are your organs supposed to go?”

“We’re not going for anything crazy,” Phoenix stated reassuringly. “Just trying to introduce you to some stuff to, uh, help you out a little.”

~~~~~

# 50 - Bought an Adult Toy

“This one has plenty of different settings, so you can play around with it and see what works for you and what doesn’t,” the attendant explained, causing Dove to nod. “Everyone is different, so there’s no shame in finding what works for you.”

“Thank you.”

“See that wasn’t so bad,” Phoenix stated, walking with Dove after she picked up a box.

“No, it actually wasn’t.”

Dove was about to turn for the register when she caught sight of some handcuffs. The dainty, fluffy pink fur didn’t spark any interest in her. But when she found a more industrial pair, Dove couldn’t help but pick up a pair to inspect. She completely missed the look on Phoenix’s face at her choice.

“Well, I guess it’s on sale,” Dove reasoned to herself.

After a few more moments of quiet deliberation, Dove shrugged her shoulders and walked towards the counter with the handcuffs in hand. Phoenix stood there for a moment, still shocked at Dove’s choice.

“It’s always the quiet ones.”

After Dove paid for her items, they made their way back out to the car. Looking down at what she had already purchased that day, Dove quietly had a discussion with herself before turning back to Phoenix.

“I have an idea. For what to do next.”

“Of course. What is it?”

~~~~~

# 51 - Gotten a Tattoo

Phoenix pulled her phone out as Dove laid on her side, talking casually with the tattoo artist. When she saw that Jake was calling her, Phoenix excused herself from Dove’s side. Walking out to the parking lot, Phoenix answered the call.

“Yes?”

“What the hell are you doing, Trace!?”

“Start over, Bagman,” Phoenix warned him.

“You’re making her get a tattoo?” Jake rephrased, though the tension was clear in his tone.

“I didn’t make her get a tattoo. This was her idea.”

“You think that I believe you?”

“I don’t care what you believe. It’s the truth. She said that she’s floated the idea of getting one for a while and she decided to finally do it.”

“And you let her?”

“She is an adult. She can make her own choices about her own body. And no one has the right to tell her that she can’t,” Phoenix warned him. “Including you, Bagman.”

“What if she regrets it?”

“She can get it lasered off. And we all know that Dove doesn’t do anything without going through the consequences a thousand times.” Glancing back at the tattoo parlor, Phoenix added, “And when she tells you about it—and this goes for all of you idiots—you’re going to tell her that it’s great. Got it?”

Dove stepped out into the light as Phoenix wrapped up her phone call. Phoenix spotted her and hung up the phone without so much as a goodbye.

“How do you feel?”

“It stings,” Dove admitted honestly, pulling her shorts down a little to show Phoenix the bandage, “but I feel . . . I don’t know how to describe it. Just . . . free.”

“You are,” Phoenix stated, smiling proudly. “You’re in charge of your life. No one else.”

“Yeah, I am,” Dove agreed, nodding with a wide smile.

~~~~~

# 52 - Sang Karaoke in Front of Strangers

“And girls! They wanna have fu-un! Oh, girls just wanna have—that’s all the really wa-ah-an-ah-an-ah-ant! Some fu-uh-uh-uh-un! When the working day is done, oh girls, they wanna have fun!”

Phoenix and Dove shared a laugh as the song finished up. The bar where they were standing was pretty much empty, but the one bartender on duty clapped for them. Dove laughed and waved to them as she hopped off the small stage.

~~~~~

# 53 - Sunbathed Topless

“I need to get softer beach towels,” Dove commented, causing Phoenix to pick her head up and look over at her.

“Are you planning on doing this more often?”

The two of them were out in Penny’s backyard to sunbathe in the afternoon. Dove shrugged her shoulders as she laid on her stomach, calm and relaxed.

“Maybe. If I find safe spots to do it.”

~~~~~

# 54 - Dyed Your Hair

Putting a trash bag over Dove’s torso just in case, Phoenix started lightly spraying the dye onto her hair. Dove closed her eyes and just let Phoenix work, and missed Phoenix’s concerned look as she finished up the spray.

“Alright, how does that look? I think I’ll open the window.”

Dove stood up from the tub and walked over to the mirror to stare at her new reflection and instantly grimaced. The red hair color was fairly bright. It wasn’t quite a fire engine red, nor was it orange, it was some other odd reddish color that Dove was going to immediately wash out of her hair.

“Well, that’s off the list. Forever.”

~~~~~

# 55 - Drank Pickle Juice

“Do you normally do this?” Dove asked Phoenix, sitting at her kitchen table with an old towel wrapped around her freshly washed hair.

The spray on hair dye had come out easily, but she was going to have to scrub her shower later. Phoenix placed a glass in front of her and Dove picked it up to inspect it. Taking a small sip, Dove wrinkled her nose and slowly set it back down.

“I think I’ve had enough of the food challenges,” Dove admitted, slowly opening her eyes.

“You’ll have to tell everyone else that. They want to go to a new bar tonight,” Phoenix stated, showing Dove her texts with Bob.

“A cowboy bar?” Dove read, looking up at Phoenix. “They finally let Jake have his way?”

“Apparently.”

~~~~~

# 56 - Ridden a Mechanical Bull

Jake and Coyote walked into the cowboy bar together and started their search for the other Daggers, who had all apparently arrived before them.

“Found ‘em,” Coyote stated, nudging Jake in the side.

Jake turned his head and recognized the woman climbing up on the back of the mechanical bull. And even if he didn’t, the fact that Phoenix, Bob, and Rooster were standing around the area and cheering her on would have cleared it up.

Dove focused on the task at hand, locking her legs around the bull and prepared to move her body in time with the bull. Jake and Javy made their way over to the area as the mechanical bull started to move.

“Yeah, Dove!” Phoenix cheered for her.

“She can really move her hips well,” Rooster commented, staring down Jake as he spoke. “Don’t you agree, Hangman?”

Jake glared straight into Bradley’s soul before turning back to Dove. She managed to hold on for longer than anyone expected, but with a quiet giggle, Dove dropped onto the mat. Rolling onto her knees, Dove crawled to get off the mat.

Jake offered her a hand and she took it without hesitation. Hopping down from the mat, she moved to pull her boots on again as Bob climbed up onto the mat to go next. Dove stood up slowly, offering him a smile that seemed to make time slow around them.

“Long time no see,” Dove stated teasingly. “Did you miss me?”

“Well, my day was a lot less entertaining without you in it,” Jake commented, causing Dove to raise an eyebrow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You make life . . . interesting,” Jake replied, missing the side eye that Coyote and Rooster shared behind him.

“Interesting?” Dove repeated, causing Jake to wince. Laughing, she nudged him again. “I’m just teasing, Jake. Lighten up. Relax. Have a drink.”

She walked past him, practically serene, and over to where Phoenix was standing, cheering on Bob, who was still hanging on. Coyote wrapped an arm around Jake’s shoulder and Jake promptly ignored his shit-eating grin.

“You know, of all the words you could have used to describe her, you chose ‘interesting’?”

“Shut up, Javy.”

“To think I took advice from you. No wonder I don’t have a girlfriend.”

~~~~~

# 57 - Given a Fake Name

Dove stood at the bar with Phoenix, waiting to order another drink. The other Daggers were waiting at their table, which they could see from the bar. Folding her arms on the bar, Dove glanced to her right as a man took the spot next to her.

“Have you been waiting a while?” he asked, causing Dove and Phoenix to turn to him.

“Yeah, but they’re clearly understaffed, so we don’t mind,” Dove returned politely.

“Have you been here before?” the man continued.

“No, it was recommended by one of our friends,” Dove explained calmly. She shared a look with Phoenix, who subtly shrugged her shoulders.

“And what do you think about it so far?”

“The mechanical bull is a unique touch.”

“Have you been on it yet?” the man asked, leaning on the bar with a smile.

“Yeah, earlier.”

“How’d you do?”

“I think they said nine seconds.”

“That’s amazing for your first time up on one.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m Jared,” he introduced, offering his hand for her to shake.

Dove quickly came up with a fake name and introduced herself back to him. Shaking his hand in return, she turned back to the bartender. She and Phoenix shared a side glance before Jared asked her another question.

~~~~~

# 58 - Been Bought a Drink

Jake glared at the back of Jared’s head, watching the interaction between Dove and the stranger intently. It was a bar and Jared was a random man who walked up to Dove and Phoenix. Jake had every right to be concerned, he reasoned to himself.

“I’m going up there,” Jake stated gruffly.

“Did he do something?” Payback asked, turning around to look at the bar.

“He’s loitering.”

“It looks like they’re just talking. Dove doesn’t even look anxious.”

“No, he’s bad news,” Jake insisted.

“Because he’s doing something wrong or because he’s flirting with Dove?” Coyote questioned, turning to his best friend. “Would you react the same way if he was showing more of an interest in Phoenix?”

“I’m going up there,” Jake insisted, ignoring Javy’s question.

Meanwhile, at the bar, Dove and Jared had finally waved over the bartender. Dove ordered her drink, but before she could hand over her card, Jared offered to put it on his tab. And even though Dove insisted that she could pay for her own drinks, Jared insisted.

“My treat. And besides, it’s your first time here. I have to make sure that you have a good time, so you’ll come back again.”

“Thank you,” Dove replied quietly, quickly moving into unfamiliar territory.

While they waited for their drinks to be made, Jared continued to ask Dove perfectly normal surface level questions. Dove was analytical by nature and Jared didn’t seem to ask her anything that was a blatant red flag. But she was still cautious. The bartender handed over their drinks before Dove turned back to Jared.

“Thank you for the drink, but we really should get back to our friends,” Dove stated politely, offering Jared a small smile.

“Before you go,” Jared stated, causing Dove to pause, “do you think that I could get your number? Or maybe, at least, a dance?”

“Um,” Dove began, trying to find the right words.

“She has a boyfriend,” Phoenix interjected, causing Jared’s face to fall.

“Oh.”

“Sorry, I was trying to tell you before you bought the drink,” Dove replied, half-lying, half-telling the truth. She did tell him that she wanted to pay for her own drink.

“Do you guys need help?” Jake asked, appearing from the crowd.

Phoenix rolled her eyes at the subtle territorial display—or not so subtle, depending on who you asked—that Jake put on. Jared, quickly assessing the fact that Jake was built enough to kick his ass if he really wanted to—and Jake looked like he wanted to—slipped away, leaving Dove and Phoenix at the bar with Jake.

“Are you alright?” Jake asked Dove, who nodded in return.

“Yeah, he seemed harmless. We’re fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m fine, Jake.”

“I’ll take a tequila shot,” Phoenix told the bartender, who nodded and moved to pour one for her.

~~~~~

# 59 - Danced with Someone at a Bar

“I love this song!” Phoenix yelled, getting to her feet.

The Dagger Squad had settled around their table, enjoying their drinks and catching up, but Phoenix was itching to move. Phoenix reached over and grabbed Bob’s arm, practically pulling him straight out of his seat.

“Let’s go dance!”

Jake watched Phoenix drag Bob off her before turning to look at Dove, who was already staring back at him. Turning so that his whole body was facing her, Jake leaned in closer to her so that he didn’t need to scream over the music.

“Do you want to dance too?”

“Do you want me to make your night more interesting?” Dove quipped back, though she looked unsure of herself. “You know that I have two left feet, Jake.”

“I’ll lead.”

“If I fall on my face—”

“—I won’t let you fall,” Jake promised, causing Dove to pause as her cheeks warmed.

“Alright.”

Jake and Dove left the Dagger table and walked out onto the crowded dance floor. Dove reached out and kept a tight hold on Jake’s hand, worried about losing him in the swarm. Jake managed to find a space for them before turning back to Dove. She released his hand and smiled anxiously.

“Just follow me,” Jake called over the music.

Dove nodded and just sort of swayed to the music. The crowd shifted around them and pushed them closer together. Jake put his hands on Dove’s waist to keep her steady on her feet. And Dove, either subconsciously or consciously leaned against him too, letting Jake wrap an arm around her.

They swayed together to the music as Jake reached for Dove’s hand. Twirling her around gently, Jake wasn’t aware that he was giving her the most genuinely joyful smile and that his eyes never once deviated from her.

From the way that her nose crinkled as she laughed to the soft look in her eye as she turned back around, he was entirely and completely captivated by her.

Dove spun around again and laughed as she leaned against Jake, still a bit clumsy. Jake wrapped an arm around her waist, not just to steady her this time. But to unabashedly keep her close to him. And Dove didn’t push away from him.

From across the room, Coyote, Rooster, and Payback sat together, all quietly watching the interaction between Jake and Dove. Coyote appeared tired, not from the night or the alcohol. But from watching Hangman and Dove continue to tiptoe around each other.

“Have we tried just pushing their heads together yet?” Payback asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“I’m really considering it,” Coyote replied, shaking his head.

“I can flirt with Dove some more,” Rooster offered, causing Payback and Coyote to turn to him.

“I’m honestly worried he’ll rip your head off at this point,” Coyote stated, turning to Rooster. “He turns almost feral.”

“I know. But I’m really enjoying pissing him off.”

~~~~~

# 60 - Shown Someone Else Your Tattoo

Standing outside the bar beside Jake’s truck, Dove turned around. She had to unbutton her jean shorts to do it, but she pulled the waistband of her shorts and her underwear down a little to show Jake her tattoo. She had placed a protective clear patch over it for her shower and just decided to wear it to the bar as well.

“It’s not very large, but I’ve wanted it for a while,” she explained, causing Jake to nod.

“What made you pick that one?”

“I was always drawing stars when I was anxious when I was in college,” Dove admitted, glancing back at her tattoo. “And this was just a group of them.”

“It looks good,” Jake complimented Dove, causing her to smile.

“Thank you. I’m really glad that I got it, actually.”

“It suits you.”

Pulling her shorts up and buttoning them once again, Dove turned around to face Jake. She leaned back against his truck, folding her hands behind her back.

“Are you excited for the team trip?”

“I guess.”

“You’re the one who voted for the lake house,” Dove reminded him.

“I just didn’t want to go to Vegas.” Shifting his weight on his feet, Jake met Dove’s gaze once again. “But I was thinking . . .”

“Yeah?” Dove asked softly.

“Did you want to leave maybe two days before everyone else? There’s a few more things I think that we can knock off the list if we do.”

“Just the two of us?”

“I mean . . . yeah.”

“I’m just teasing you, Jake,” Dove mused, pushing off of his truck. “Just tell me when I need to be ready to leave, and I’ll be ready.” Offering him a soft smile and letting her touch on his arm linger, Dove added, “Goodnight, Jake.”

“Night, Dove.”

Jake turned and watched Dove walk over to her car. He stood there until Dove got into her car and drove home, trying to keep his mind focused. But that was becoming more and more difficult around Dove these days.

#jake seresin fic #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman series #hangman fic #hangman #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun #tgm #tgm fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman x reader #hangman x reader

274 notes · View notes

wonjns · 2 years ago

Text

caught you. – s.jy

pairing. sim jaeyun x male reader

genre. smut

summary. jake would’ve never believed it if someone told him his cute, innocent boyfriend was actually a horny mess who just needed to be fucked - that is, he wouldn’t believe it until he saw it himself.

includes. bottom!malereader, virgin!reader, corruption kink, blowjob (reader rec.), degradation

WC. 2.1k

°A/N. . . requested by anon ✓ “Hey~ So I was thinking to request a Enhypen Jake smut where y/n was a virgin but Jake found him humping his pillow after he came home stressed . And maybe if u can add some dirty talking, humiliating👀” || so happy to finally be posting this bc the male reader content has been so dry lately 😵‍💫 NOT PROOFREAD!

you had found yourself in quite the predicament this evening, regretting all of your decisions after telling your boyfriend you didn't need to accompany him to his recent music video shooting.

despite how excited jake was to share the world of entertainment with you and let you know you were free to join him on his schedules, you often felt like a burden. so, today you reassured your ray of sunshine that you would be fine at home, giving yourself a day to just lounge around and catch up on your favorite series.

but god was it boring, and damn were you horny.

your relationship with jake had been pretty innocent thus far, both of you radiating wholesome energy and hardly going further than innocent kisses and cuddling. but as time went on, you found it increasingly harder to control yourself around him.

maybe it was the styling or the overall confidence of this new era, but something about jake just had you constantly engaging in an inner war to not pounce across the table every time your boyfriend licked sauce from his lips at dinner or groaned after tasting good food.

yet, you were just too nervous to bring up your desires to jake. you were a virgin, and jake knew that, so he never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable or pressured into taking things a step further. in his mind, you would come to him when you were ready.

you, on the other hand, were petrified at the idea that your inexperience would humiliate you.

you knew it was irrational, but you thought your lack of knowledge would actually run your boyfriend off to find someone who could satisfy him. countless times you've caught his massive bulge printing through his sweats, and regardless of your desire to just take him whole and swallow him for everything that he's got, you had no idea how.

thus, causing all of your filthy wants and thoughts to be restrained in your mind in the deep hours of the night, your hand shoved down your boxers.

today was no different; your alleged relaxing day at home went to shit as soon as your phone dinged with photo jake sent to you on set. you couldn't believe all it took was one selfie of his smirk being covered by a lip bite to cling to one of his pillows (doused in the scent of his cologne and shampoo).

you changed into one of jake's oversized hoodies and stripped yourself of your shorts off until you were left in your boxers, throwing your leg over the pillow as you admired the selfie. however, before you knew it you had succumbed to even watching his fancams.

it was so pitiful, but the relief your clothed erection felt from the pressure of jake's firm pillow sent your mind reeling. the rocking of your hips only sped up the more you watched him roll his eyes or grab his crotch during concert clips -- and your mind wandered to how he was probably doing those exact things for the camera right now.

after losing track of time, you were growing impatient at how unsatisfying the pillow was becoming compared to how your boyfriend's strong hands would feel. your mild whimpers were quickly turning to muffled sounds of frustration, discarding your phone to ground your hips into the pillow harder. you squeezed your eyes shut in chase of at least some relief.

but it seems you had gotten too caught up in trying to find your climax, because you were frozen in your tracks after hearing a throat being cleared at the door.

a sudden wave of embarrassment washed over you as you turned your head to see none other than jake at the door, eyebrows raised in shock.

"b-babe," you muttered, scrambling off of his pillow as your cheeks burned red. "you-... you....."

you couldn't even begin to form a sentence or excuse, skin feeling on fire from the way he was looking at you. jake couldn't believe his eyes, the image of his sweet and innocent boyfriend grinding on his pillow like a bitch in heat.

"y/n..." he uttered just above a whisper, "what exactly is going on here?"

he was in shock, but he had been turned on in seconds. you think your eyes are playing tricks on you the way you see a slight smirk growing on his face.

"i just.... i.... how long have you been here?" you fumble, sitting up and sliding your phone under the blankets.

jake ignores your question, cocking his head to the side as he approaches the bed. you feel too humiliated to move as he kneels, his head at the same level as the pillow you had trapped between your thighs.

"keep going."

you furrowed your brows in disbelief at what you heard.

"wha-"

"i said keep going." jake cut in, eyes now dark and hooded as he stares lasers into your skin. "if you missed me so much to start humping my shit, i wanna watch it happen."

you had never once heard jake's voice in this tone, and you were too intimidated to respond. his whole aura took on a dominance unfamiliar to you, but you'd be lying if you said it didn't make your boner return in full force.

slowly moving, you took his pillow between your legs once more and curled deeper into his hoodie, unable to make eye contact as you started rutting your hips.

"look at me while you do." jake ordered, not a single waiver in his voice as he spoke.

your eyes widened in worry, silently refusing to look up.

"y/n, be a good boy and look at me."

the pet name caused your dick to twitch, and a soft moan escaped your lips when you remade contact with the idol's dark, lust filled orbs.

you could feel the heat of the room intensifying as you sped up your hips, jake looking down to your pelvis and taking in the show. you whimpered when he sensually licked his bottom lip with the same tongue you'd been fantasizing over for weeks. you felt so shameful, but were getting turned on rapidly as the seconds went by.

"j-jake, please." you whispered, causing his eyes to shoot back up to you.

"what is it, babe?" he responded, a devilishly teasing tone to his words. "what do you want?"

"touch me... please touch me."

your weak plea made his bulge solidify tighter in his pants, making him bite his lip just as he did in the photo while his eyes sized you up and down.

he was trying his best to hide how aroused he was, because he really wanted to watch you cum like this first, but the glint in your begging eyes caused him to lose all motive. your little bulge was just so cute to him, he wanted to be the reason you reached your high first.

"oh, baby..." he groaned, his hands lunging at you to grab the back of your neck.

jake surged forwards, connecting his ridiculously soft gummy lips with yours. he swallowed you whole in an opened mouth kiss, not even waiting a second to slip his thick tongue into your mouth and taste your desperacy.

you moaned loudly, hips stilling as the satisfying feeling of jake studying the grooves of your cavern overtook you. your hands gripped for his hair, pulling him even closer to kiss him back with a sloppy passion.

he pulled away for just a moment to look into your hooded eyes, nipping at your bottom lip just to hear you whine again. he caught you in another heated kiss while simultaneously shoving the pillow out of the way so he could mount the bed.

minutes later you were pressed deeper into the mattress by the older male without breaking the kiss once, your hands gripping any and everything they could feel. jake reached down to feel your hardened cock through your boxer, causing you to break the kiss in a groan.

"how bad do you want me to make you come, baby?" he teased, dipping down to nibble along your collarbone.

you wanted it so bad you couldn't even put it into words, babbling nonsense at him and throwing your head back as his large palm stroked you over your clothes.

"use your words, y/n. you were needy enough to try to fuck a pillow but now that i'm here you cant even speak." jake taunted, a deep blush returning to your cheeks.

you were so embarrassed by the whole scenario, but the way jake was treating you had your mind hazed in desire. the way your body shook in pleasure from his hands alone did all the talking for you, but he needed to hear it from you.

"s-s'badly, jake. please, i need you."

"oh, you need me?" jake taunted, slowly slipping your boxers off. "if only you had told me earlier, prince, i could have been given you what you needed. but you just had to be a needy little whore all by your lonesome."

he licked his lips hungrily once more seeing your erected cock practically begging for more attention. he pushed the hoodie you wore higher up your chest, trailing wet kisses down your stomach until he finally reached your core, flattening his tongue on your pulsing shaft.

you groaned noisily before biting your lip, tangling your hands in jake's curls and pulling. it was his turn to send a moaning vibration through you, your legs threatening to close around his head.

it seemed jake could sense it, because his strong grip went from his hips to your bare thighs, holding them apart and he licked up and down your sensitive cock.

"fuck, so good, jake" you breathed out, legs trembling at the sensation of his warm tongue teasing your length.

your boyfriend offered a hum in response before enclosing those plump lips around your member, sucking experimentally. you would've screamed if the feeling didn't completely throw you in a blissful haze right off the bat, your mouth flying open in a silent moan.

it was obvious that jake could tell how much you liked it, him sucking harder before wrapping his tongue around your cock as he continued. this only went on for no more than a minute before you were announcing you were about to come - which turned out to be a mistake as the idol ceased all his actions, releasing your length from those heaven sent lips.

this made you squirm desperately, tears prickling at your eyes.

"n-no! why'd you stop?" you whined to your boyfriend, who only smirked in response before kissing your tip.

"i'm just so disappointed you didn't tell me how bad you wanted this, babe." jake responded with a mocking tone, leaving butterfly kisses around the area you needed him most. "maybe i'm just not good enough for you..."

an army of no's fled from your lips, shaking your head as you gripped onto jakes broad shoulders.

"jake, please, you're the only one who can make me feel this way. please keep going. i promise i'll be good for you." you babbled, bucking your hips up towards his face.

this made jake chuckle darkly.

"well, if you promise."

and with that, he returned to his ministrations on your cock, sucking powerfully and bobbing his head along your length while holding your waist down. he brought a hand up to fondle your balls while drool started sliding down your member and onto the mattress, sending you into cloud nine.

it wasn't until he moaned deeply around your cock after getting a taste of your precum that you finally reached your climax, releasing your love liquids into his mouth while your whole body went limp.

the feeling was like nothing you had ever imagined, jake's eager tongue cleaning up the mess from your skin feeling much better than the tissues you'd sneak into your room.

you thanked the shaggy haired male as your eyes started fluttering closed, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles into your thighs nearly lulling you to sleep.

however a firm smack to one of your thighs jolted you back awake, looking down at jake in confusion.

"ah ah, baby. i think it's your turn to take care of me now, don't you think?" he piped up.

you followed his line of sight trailing south to the raging boner still standing tall in his pants, causing your mouth to water.

"theres a lot i have to teach you, baby boy."

now was finally your time, and you couldn't have been any happier that today of all days was when jake sim finally caught you.

#enhypen x male reader #jake x male reader #enhypen smut #kpop x male reader #kpop male reader #jake smut #enhypen jake #enhypen hard hours #enhypen x reader #jake sim #sim jaeyun #kpop hard hours #kpop x reader #kpop smut

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yandereworlds · 2 years ago

Note

they're all so cute ;0;

do you have any fun facts about dantae you want to share?

Actually, yes! Here's some Dantae Headcanons!

𖦹 Dantae is 100% a dog person. He owns two great Dane’s! One is named Marco and the other Leon.

𖦹 Dantae definitely prefers a s/o that’s shorter than him for many reasons, mostly because he likes being able to lift up his s/o whenever he feels like it and because they pose less of a threat and won’t be nearly as difficult to subdue when times call for it. I won’t say he’s entirely against dating a taller s/o, but he’ll definitely be more apprehensive

𖦹 Dantae adheres to an exceedingly strict diet, making a conscious effort to minimize carb intake. He's seemingly one of those individuals dedicated to going to the gym, exercising at least twice daily, and meticulously upholding a balanced diet. Should you find yourself in a relationship with Dantae, he'll undoubtedly encourage you to embrace his dietary choices, despite knowing your aversion to it, in one way or another. Whenever you complain to him, he’d likely say something along the lines of, “I just want to help you keep that perfect figure, Cariño. Don’t be so angry..”

𖦹 Regrettably, Dantae's persuasive nature doesn't end with his diet preferences. He would also try to motivate you to join him in morning exercises, though he won't be as overly insistent. His approach would involve incorporating you into his routines, such as doing push-ups with you sitting on his back or engaging in sit-ups while showering you with affectionate kisses every time he comes back up.

𖦹 Dantae values a significant other who possesses excellent culinary skills. After all, they say the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach, and that rings true for Dantae. Naturally, he would anticipate his partner to prepare meals for him throughout the day and keep the table full. These acts of service will genuinely make Dantae appreciate his significant other, especially when they are done without him having to ask for them.

𖦹 When Dantae isn't occupied with his work as a bounty hunter, he likely spends his leisure time at shooting ranges. He constantly strives to enhance his weapon-handling skills, though he usually prefers that his significant other isn’t present. However, with sufficient encouragement, he might occasionally bring them along, strictly as an observer and never to participate. The idea of his partner handling a gun or any weapon unsettles him; he firmly believes it isn't their place, and he intends to maintain that boundary, regardless if they are actually good at it or not.

𖦹 Adding onto what I mentioned earlier, acts of service form the foundation of Dantae's love language. Verbal expressions of affection aren't his forte; instead, he lets his actions speak volumes. Following a taxing evening of work, he might return home and tenderly massage his significant other's shoulders and feet, or take the initiative to handle some household chores if they are feeling exhausted. He might even draw a soothing bath for the two of you, embracing the opportunity to share a moment of relaxation and intimacy.

𖦹 Dantae is an avid horror enthusiast. He finds immense joy in watching scary movies with his significant other, relishing not only the thrill of the films, but also the comforting presence of having you clinging onto him. It reinforces his sense of being your primary protector, and there's nothing he enjoys more than that reassuring feeling.

𖦹 Probably takes photos of his s/o while they are sleeping and definitely has a folder compiled purely of all the photos he's taken of you over time.

𖦹 Dantae has a tendency to discreetly plant bugs or tracking devices on most of his darling's belongings. It's not that he doesn’t trust you, but rather he finds comfort in knowing your whereabouts at all times. Even though he could easily ask, that alone doesn't suffice for him. He's unlikely to reveal this behavior, and in the event that his darling discovers one of these bugs and confronts him, he won't try to hide it. Instead, he may openly admit to doing so, taking pride in the belief that he's merely looking out for your well-being.

𖦹 Dantae has difficulty accepting criticism, regardless of whether it is intended for his own betterment or not. Any form of correction or being told he's mistaken about something tends to trigger his anger swiftly. In such situations, he may become easily irritated or even display aggression, depending on the circumstances.

𖦹 Dantae is heavily family-oriented, he often puts them above everything else and prioritizes them. Dantae truly believes that there's really nothing else like family and if it came down to it, he would do just about anything for his family.

𖦹 Dantae adheres to a highly disciplined sleeping routine. He typically retires to bed between 9 to 8 PM, and as an early riser, he wakes up around 5 AM. Every morning, while his significant other enjoys a bit more rest, he engages in various activities such as exercising, tending to yard work, or handling tasks like fetching the mail. This structured morning routine allows him to make the most of each day and take care of necessary chores before his partner wakes up.

𖦹 Dantae's major pet peeve revolves around the silent treatment or being ignored, as he finds such behavior disrespectful. When faced with this treatment, he doesn't hesitate to become hostile in response. However, when it comes to his significant other, he may exhibit a bit more tolerance and patience, though even that has its limits, like most things in his life.

𖦹 Will always be the big spoon, it is non negotiable.

Hope this gave you a little more of an idea of the type of person Dantae is! Enjoy!

𖦹 Join our Discord server to get early access to art, polls, headcanons and more! 𖦹

#yandere #yancore #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere drabbles #//mun kiki #yanderecore #dantae #yandere headcanons

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movingmusically · 4 days ago

Text

Unscripted - Part 2

Original Request:

Can I request an austin one shot where austin and single and the female lead is not she is In an high profile relationship like tomdaya and they are happy and engaged but she and austin are co starring In a movie together and they fell in love

Word Count: 8,836

Masterlist

Part 1

The flight back home felt surreal, the stark contrast between the immersive world of the film and the polished, relentless pace of your everyday life almost jarring. As your car pulled up to the house you shared with Jack, a wave of guilt swept over you. This was your life, your future, and yet, for the first time, it felt like you didn’t quite belong in it.

Jack greeted you at the door with his signature easy smile, pulling you into a warm hug. “Welcome back,” he murmured against your hair, his hands firm on your back. The familiarity of his touch was grounding, but it also brought with it a weight you couldn’t ignore. You hugged him tighter, hoping the embrace would erase the unease that had taken root inside you.

“Thanks,” you said, stepping back and offering a small smile. “It’s good to be home.”

He helped you with your bags, asking about the shoot as you walked inside. You gave him the highlights—the beauty of Big Sur, the camaraderie of the cast and crew, the challenges of working without a script. You kept your answers vague, glossing over the depth of what the project had meant to you and avoiding any mention of Austin. Somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to talk about the connection you’d built on set or the moments that still lingered, unbidden, in your mind.

For the first few days, things slipped into an easy rhythm. You and Jack ordered your favourite takeout, caught up on TV shows you’d missed, and stole quiet moments together in the calm of your shared home. It felt familiar, comforting even, but there was something underneath it all—a distance neither of you acknowledged but both seemed to feel.

The tension only surfaced when the topic of the wedding came up again during dinner one evening. Jack had been scrolling through photos on his phone, showing you images of grand venues with towering ceilings and sprawling gardens.

“What about this one?” he asked, holding the screen toward you. The estate was stunning, no doubt about it, but its grandeur made your stomach twist.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, choosing your words carefully. “But don’t you think it’s a bit… much?”

Jack frowned slightly but kept his tone light. “It’s a wedding. It’s supposed to be big, isn’t it? We’ve only got one shot at this—don’t you want to make it memorable?”

“I do,” you said softly, setting your fork down. “But memorable doesn’t have to mean hundreds of guests or some enormous venue. I’ve always imagined something smaller. Something more personal.”

He leaned back in his chair, watching you with a thoughtful expression. “Smaller, like what? A backyard barbecue?”

You let out a soft laugh, though the comment stung more than you cared to admit. “Not a barbecue, but something more like a celebration. Just the people closest to us, somewhere relaxed where we don’t have to worry about keeping up appearances.”

Jack exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I hear you. I do. But I think you’re underestimating how much people expect from us. We’ve got friends, family, colleagues—all of them are going to want to celebrate this with us. A small wedding just isn’t practical.”

You felt your chest tighten, the weight of his words settling heavily. “I know there’s a lot to consider, but I just don’t want us to lose sight of what this is about: us. Not everyone else.”

Jack nodded slowly, but his expression didn’t soften. “I’m not saying it’s all about everyone else, but they’re part of our lives too. We owe them something.”

The conversation ended there, but the knot in your stomach remained long after you’d cleared the dishes. Jack retreated to the living room to make a few work calls, and you found yourself staring out the kitchen window, the ring on your finger catching the faint glow of the streetlights outside. It wasn’t just the wedding. That much was clear.

The next weekend, you and Jack stepped out for brunch at a café in the heart of the city. The morning was crisp, the kind of autumn day that begged for warm drinks and quiet conversation. You tried to focus on the present, to enjoy the simplicity of being with Jack, but the weight of your unresolved feelings was still there.

The conversation lingered as you left the restaurant and walked hand in hand down the quiet street. You didn’t argue, but the difference in your visions for the wedding hung in the air, unspoken but palpable. You wanted to believe it was something you could compromise on, but deep down, you weren’t sure either of you would be entirely happy with the other’s version of your day.

In the distance you spotted the glint of a camera lens. Your stomach sank. Paparazzi.

Jack seemed unfazed, slipping his arm around your waist as you made your way down the street. “Just ignore them,” he said under his breath, his voice calm but firm.

You nodded, but the awareness of being watched made every step feel heavier. The cameras clicked furiously as you reached the car, the flashing lights momentarily blinding. You climbed inside quickly, letting out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding as Jack started the engine.

The headlines came the next day. Pictures of you and Jack walking side by side, smiles faint but stiff, were plastered across tabloids with captions like “Trouble in Paradise?” and “Hollywood’s Golden Couple Looking Less Than Happy.”

Jack tossed one of the magazines onto the kitchen counter, his jaw tight. “Do they ever get tired of making stuff up?”

You glanced at the cover, your heart sinking. “It’s just noise,” you said, trying to dismiss it. “People will forget about it in a week.”

“Still,” he said, his tone sharper than usual. “It’s like they’re waiting for us to fail.”

“We’re not failing,” you said quickly, though the words felt more like a reassurance for yourself than for him.

Jack’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he let out a breath. “I know. Sorry. It just gets to me sometimes.”

The cracks deepened over the following weeks. The conversation about the wedding remained unresolved, each new suggestion from Jack feeling like another reminder of how out of sync you were. But it wasn’t just the wedding—it was the way he talked about the future, about stepping back from acting to start a family.

One evening, as you sat together on the couch, he brought it up again. “I’ve been thinking,” he began, his voice steady. “Maybe after the wedding, we could take some time to really slow down. Focus on what matters. A family.”

You hesitated, your stomach tightening. “You mean… right away?”

“Why not?” he asked, turning to face you. “We’ve both been working nonstop for years. It feels like the right time.”

You stared at him, struggling to find the right words. “I just don’t know if I’m ready for that yet,” you said carefully. “There’s still so much I want to do.”

Jack frowned, his expression a mix of confusion and disappointment. “Like what? You’re at the top of your game. What more do you need?”

“It’s not about needing more,” you said softly. “It’s about… not feeling like I’m done yet. There are roles I want to take, stories I want to tell. I’m not ready to step back—not yet.”

Jack leaned back, letting out a long breath. “I get that,” he said finally, though his tone was resigned. “But at some point, we have to figure out what’s next for us. We can’t just keep going like this forever.”

You nodded, but his words stayed with you long after the conversation ended. The growing distance between you felt insurmountable at times, and no matter how hard you tried to bridge it, the cracks only seemed to widen. You told yourself it was just a phase, that every couple went through rough patches, but deep down, you weren’t sure if that was true.

At night, as you lay beside Jack in bed, your thoughts wandered back to the set, to the quiet intensity of filming, to Austin. You pushed the memories down, but even as you closed your eyes, you couldn’t escape the feeling that the life you’d built was starting to feel like someone else’s.

The gala dinner was as glamorous as you’d expected—a glittering blend of industry titans, rising stars, and carefully curated opulence. The film was already generating buzz, and the event felt like a celebration of its success, even before it had premiered. You arrived with Jack, the two of you quickly swept into a swirl of handshakes, polite laughter, and clinking glasses.

Jack’s hand rested at your waist as you navigated the room together, his charm on full display as he chatted easily with producers and directors. You followed his lead, slipping into the polished rhythm you’d perfected over the years. But despite the familiar ease of it all, your thoughts kept straying to the possibility of seeing Austin.

It didn’t take long. You spotted him across the room, standing in a small circle of people, his laugh low and easy. He looked effortlessly put together in a tailored suit, his presence magnetic even in a room filled with celebrities. Your stomach tightened, a flicker of nerves you couldn’t quite suppress.

Jack noticed your attention shift and followed your gaze. “There’s Austin,” he said, his tone neutral but with a flicker of curiosity.

You nodded, your chest tightening slightly. “Yeah. Should we go say hi?”

“Why not?” Jack said, steering you through the crowd with his usual confidence.

Austin turned toward you as you approached, his expression softening with recognition. You offered him a small smile. “Hi,” you said, your voice warm despite the faint tension you felt.

“Hey,” Austin replied, his gaze flicking between you and Jack. “Good to see you.”

“You too,” Jack said, extending his hand. “Nice to actually get to talk this time. I think we only managed a quick hello when I visited the set.”

“Yeah, it was a busy day,” Austin agreed, shaking Jack’s hand. “It’s good to finally chat properly.”

Jack’s smile was easy, his tone friendly. “Y/N’s told me a lot about the project—it sounded like a really unique experience.”

“It was,” Austin said, his focus briefly shifting to you before returning to Jack. “Definitely one of the most challenging but rewarding projects I’ve ever worked on.”

“It’s a great team,” you added quickly, feeling the need to contribute something. “And Celeste really pushed us in ways I didn’t expect.”

Austin nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, she has a way of doing that.”

There was a brief pause, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable but still carried a weight you couldn’t quite define. Jack’s arm rested casually at your back, his presence steady but unmistakable. You shifted slightly under the weight of both their gazes, your pulse quickening for reasons you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“Well,” Jack said after a beat, his tone light. “We won’t keep you. I’m sure we’ll run into you again tonight.”

“Of course,” Austin replied, his voice easy. “Enjoy the event.”

“You too,” you said, your voice just barely steady as Jack began to guide you away.

As you walked through the crowd, Jack leaned in slightly, his tone casual. “He seems like a solid guy.”

“He is,” you said quickly, your voice firmer than you expected. “Really professional.”

Jack nodded, his attention already shifting to the next conversation. But as much as you tried to refocus, you couldn’t shake the way Austin’s voice, his presence, lingered in your mind.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of conversations and carefully crafted smiles. Jack was in his element, charming everyone in his orbit, and you tried to match his energy. But every so often, you caught sight of Austin across the room, his presence like a magnet you couldn’t resist.

Eventually, you excused yourself, slipping out onto the terrace for some air. The cool night breeze was a welcome relief, and you leaned against the railing, letting the distant hum of the city settle your thoughts.

“You have a habit of escaping,” a familiar voice said, and you turned to see Austin standing a few feet away, a cigarette between his fingers.

“Only when I need to breathe,” you replied, your lips curving into a faint smile.

He stepped closer, his movements unhurried. There was a moment of silence, not awkward but heavy with something unspoken. You looked out over the city, the hum of distant traffic filling the space between you. Finally, he broke the silence.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, his voice quiet but warm.

“Good,” you said, the word feeling too small for everything you wanted to say. “Busy. You?”

“Same,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Feels like I haven’t stopped since we wrapped.”

You nodded, your mind flashing back to the last days of filming, the weight of everything you’d tried to leave behind pressing against your chest. “The film—it’s been getting great buzz,” you said, your voice soft.

“Yeah,” he said, his gaze shifting to you. “Celeste sent me some of the early edits. It’s… different. In a good way.”

“Different,” you echoed, the word catching in your throat. “That’s one way to describe it.”

He smiled faintly, and for a moment, it felt like you were back on set, caught in the strange, electric connection that had grown between you. His gaze lingered on you, searching, as though he could see the cracks you were trying so hard to hide.

“You’ve changed,” he said finally, his voice low. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but… you seem different.”

The words hit you like a jolt. You looked away, your fingers tightening around the stem of your champagne flute. “It’s been a busy few months,” you said, your voice carefully neutral.

“Busy doesn’t change who you are,” he said, his tone gentle but certain. “But I guess it’s not my place to say.”

Your chest tightened, a swirl of emotions threatening to surface. “It’s complicated,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t press, but the weight of his presence was undeniable. When you turned back to him, his expression was soft, understanding, but there was something else in his eyes—a quiet longing that mirrored the ache you’d been fighting to ignore.

You didn’t notice you’d stepped closer until your shoulder almost brushed his. The warmth of him was a stark contrast to the cool night air, and the faint scent of his cologne sent a shiver down your spine. He looked at you then, his gaze dipping to your lips for the briefest moment before returning to your eyes.

You stepped back quickly, your heart racing. “I should get back,” you said, your voice unsteady. “Jack will be wondering where I am.”

“Of course,” he said, his voice soft, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer than necessary. But as you turned to leave, his voice stopped you. “Y/N.”

You hesitated, your hand on the door.

“I’m really glad we worked together,” he said, his words laced with quiet intensity. “I mean that.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and slipped back inside before the pull toward him could overwhelm you.

Back in the room, you found Jack deep in conversation with a producer, his easy charm on full display. He looked up as you approached, his smile widening as he reached for your hand. You let him pull you close, the warmth of his touch grounding you, even as the echoes of your conversation with Austin lingered in your mind.

The night wore on, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. The space between you and Jack felt more pronounced, every laugh and touch feeling like an act you were performing for an audience. Across the room, you caught sight of Austin one last time. He was talking to someone, his expression relaxed but his eyes distant.

You looked away quickly, guilt and longing warring in your chest. Whatever had shifted between you and Austin, whatever spark still lingered, you knew you couldn’t let it consume you. But even as you told yourself that, you couldn’t escape the feeling that something had been set in motion, something you weren’t sure you could stop.

The car ride home with Jack was quiet, the kind of silence that was comfortable only on the surface. Jack rested his hand on your thigh, his fingers absentmindedly drumming a rhythm that should have been soothing but only heightened your unease. Your gaze stayed fixed on the city lights streaking past the window, but your mind was elsewhere—back on the terrace, the way Austin’s gaze had lingered on yours, the weight of his words still pressing against your chest.

Jack glanced at you, his brow furrowing slightly. “You’ve been quiet since we left,” he said, his tone light but laced with curiosity.

You forced a small smile. “Just tired,” you replied, your voice carefully neutral. “It’s been a long night.”

Jack nodded, his attention shifting back to the road. “It was a good night, though. You handled yourself brilliantly. Everyone loves you.”

“Thanks,” you said, the words feeling hollow in your mouth.

He didn’t press further, which you were grateful for, but as you pulled into the driveway, the tension in your chest only grew. You’d been holding onto too many feelings for too long, each one pulling you in a different direction, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep everything buried.

The living room was strewn with wedding magazines and loose papers, a small tablet perched on the coffee table displaying a sleek website for potential venues. Jack sat on the couch, his laptop balanced on his knee as he scrolled through an email chain with a wedding planner he’d found through a colleague. You sat cross-legged on the floor, an untouched cup of tea growing cold beside you.

It wasn’t exactly the wedding you’d imagined.

“I think the guest list is manageable now,” Jack said, his tone upbeat as he glanced at you over the screen of his laptop. “We’ve cut it down to about 120. That’s pretty small by Hollywood standards.”

You nodded, tracing patterns on the edge of the rug. “Yeah. Smaller,” you said, your voice carefully neutral.

He frowned slightly, sensing your hesitation. “I know it’s not what you originally wanted,” he said, his voice softening. “But I think it’s a good middle ground, don’t you? It’s not the huge spectacle everyone expects, but it’s still special.”

You managed a small smile, not wanting to dampen his enthusiasm. “It’s a compromise,” you said, echoing the words you’d told yourself over and over since the planning had started.

Jack set his laptop aside, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Hey,” he said gently, catching your gaze. “Talk to me. What’s bothering you?”

You hesitated, your chest tightening. “It’s not… bad,” you said carefully. “It’s just… all of this—the guest lists, the menus, the colour palettes—it still feels like we’re planning something for everyone else, not for us.”

Jack exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get that,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “But I want it to feel right, Y/N. For both of us. I’m trying to find that balance.”

“I know,” you said quickly, reaching for his hand. “And I appreciate it. I really do. I just… I never pictured something this formal. I always thought it would be small, intimate. Just us and the people closest to us.”

His fingers tightened around yours, his expression softening. “I want that too,” he said. “But I also want to celebrate this properly. I don’t want it to feel like we’re hiding.”

You nodded, the knot in your stomach loosening slightly. “We’ll figure it out,” you said, though the words felt more like a reassurance for him than for yourself.

Jack smiled faintly, leaning back against the couch. “So, what about a date?” he asked, his tone shifting to something lighter. “We should lock something in, right?”

You reached for your phone, pulling up your calendar. “Let’s see…” you began, scrolling through the next few months. “I’ve got the Greta Gerwig project starting in a few weeks, and then there’s a press tour…”

Jack’s face shifted, his smile faltering. “Right. And I’ve got…” He trailed off, his expression tightening.

You looked up at him, your stomach twisting. “What?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I got the offer for the lead in that film I told you about. The one shooting in New Zealand.”

Your heart sank. “When?”

“In four months,” he admitted, his voice heavy. “It’s a three-month shoot.”

The words settled between you like a weight, the implications hitting you both at once.

“That’s…” you started, your voice catching. “That’s a big deal, Jack. You should do it.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I mean, I already said yes. It’s the kind of role I can’t turn down. But the timing…”

“It’s fine,” you said, forcing a smile. “We’ll figure it out.”

His eyes softened, but there was a flicker of doubt there that you couldn’t ignore. “Ok. You’ve got the press tour. And the new project. How long does that one run?”

“Two months,” you said, your voice quieter now. “But then there’s the post-production work. ADR, reshoots… It’s a lot.”

Jack leaned back, his expression heavy. “So we’re both about to disappear for most of the year.”

The truth of it settled over you both, the reality of your lives pulling you in opposite directions. You sat in silence for a long moment, the plans and compromises scattered around you feeling suddenly insignificant.

You looked at him, your chest tightening at the weary look in his eyes.

“We’re both busy,” he said finally, his voice quiet but heavy. “I get that. But sometimes it feels like we’re barely in this anymore. Like we’re just… going through the motions.”

Your throat tightened, the truth of his words hitting you like a blow. “I know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I feel it too.”

He nodded slowly, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said. “But I don’t know how to fix this.”

Neither did you.

You’d just wrapped your latest project, a gritty drama that had demanded every ounce of your focus and energy. The long days on set had been a welcome distraction from the strained reality of your relationship with Jack. With him halfway across the world, the distance between you wasn’t just physical anymore. Calls had become shorter, text messages less frequent. When you did talk, it often felt like you were tiptoeing around something unspoken, both of you avoiding the cracks that seemed to widen with every passing day.

Throwing yourself into work had been your coping mechanism, and for a while, it had helped. But now, with the film behind you, there was no escape. The press tour for the improvisational project you’d filmed with Austin had arrived, and you’d thrown yourself into that instead, grateful for the busyness and the change of scenery.

It was during one of these interviews, seated side by side in a sleek hotel suite, that you felt the first real crack in your resolve. The journalist had asked a question about the improvisational nature of the film, and Austin’s response had been so earnest, so thoughtful, that you found yourself watching him with a mix of admiration and something deeper you didn’t want to name.

“It was all about trust,” he said, his voice steady but warm. “We had to rely on each other completely, and I think that shows in the final product.”

You nodded, your gaze lingering on him for a moment too long before turning back to the journalist. “It was definitely one of the most intense but rewarding experiences of my career,” you said, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.

The interview moved on, the journalist’s questions shifting to lighter topics, but your mind lingered on Austin’s words. Trust. He’d said it so simply, but it carried so much weight. That trust had been the foundation of everything you’d built together on set, and you felt its echoes now, in the way he listened so attentively to the interviewer’s questions, the way he leaned toward you slightly as though his presence alone could steady you.

After the interview, as you stepped into the hallway, Austin fell into step beside you. “That went well,” he said, his tone casual but kind.

“Yeah,” you agreed, glancing up at him. “You’re good at this stuff.”

He smiled, his gaze warm. “So are you.”

It was such a small thing, but the way he said it made your chest tighten. There was no ulterior motive, no performance. Just sincerity. It was a quality you’d come to admire in him over the course of the shoot, but now, with everything so raw and strained in your personal life, it felt magnified.

As the tour continued, you found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t just his looks, though that was part of it—the easy charm of his smile, the quiet intensity of his eyes, the way he carried himself with a confidence that never felt arrogant. But it was more than that. It was the way he treated everyone around him, from the journalists to the hotel staff to the fans who waited outside the press junkets for hours just for a moment with him.

He was kind. That was what struck you most. Kind in a way that felt rare, especially in an industry that so often rewarded the opposite. You watched the way he spoke to people, always present, always genuine, and you felt your chest tighten with something you were beginning to recognise but couldn’t admit.

There was a moment in the hotel lobby one evening, between events, when you saw him chatting with a fan. She was nervous, fumbling over her words, but he knelt slightly so they were at eye level, his tone gentle as he reassured her and took a photo. You watched from a distance, your heart aching in a way that felt both sweet and unbearable.

Later that night, as you sat in your hotel room scrolling through the day’s photos and interviews, you found yourself replaying small moments in your mind. The way Austin had touched your elbow to guide you out of a crowded room, the way his laugh had filled the car during a quiet drive between interviews, the way he’d looked at you during that panel discussion when you’d stumbled over a question, steadying you with just a glance.

You weren’t just attracted to him. You were falling for him.

The realisation hit you like a jolt, your chest tightening as you set your phone down and pressed your hands to your face. It was so much more than you’d let yourself acknowledge before. You didn’t just admire him, didn’t just appreciate his presence. You were in love with him.

And it wasn’t just the idea of him, either. It was the reality—the warmth of his kindness, the quiet strength of his support, the way he made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t in so long.

You lay back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling as the weight of it settled over you. The feelings you’d tried so hard to push down were impossible to ignore now, no matter how much guilt clawed at you. Jack’s name flickered through your mind, and you squeezed your eyes shut against the wave of shame that followed.

But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, the truth was there, undeniable. You loved Austin. And with every passing day, it was becoming harder to pretend you didn’t.

The press tour had been a whirlwind escape, a way to throw yourself into work and momentarily forget about the cracks that had started forming in your relationship with Jack. But now that you were home, the weight of reality settled heavily over you. The house was familiar, but it didn’t feel like home anymore—it felt like a place where unresolved tensions lingered in every room.

Jack was leaving in a few days, flying halfway across the world for six months. You’d barely had time to reconnect before his suitcase was back in the corner of the bedroom, half-packed and looming like a reminder of everything you hadn’t talked about.

Dinner that night was quiet, the clink of cutlery on plates the only sound. You could feel the tension between you like a physical presence, heavy and suffocating. Jack was the first to break the silence.

“Have you thought any more about the wedding?” he asked, his voice careful, almost hesitant.

You sighed softly, setting your fork down. “I have,” you said, glancing up at him. “And I think we’ve done a good job meeting in the middle. It’s bigger than I wanted, smaller than you did… but it still doesn’t feel like me, Jack. I’m trying to get on board with it, but…”

“But you’re not,” he finished for you, his tone tinged with frustration. “Y/N, I get that this isn’t your dream wedding, but it’s not exactly mine either. We’ve both compromised. Isn’t that what marriage is supposed to be about?”

“It is,” you said quickly, your voice cracking slightly. “And I’m grateful for that. But it’s not just the wedding, Jack. It’s… everything.”

His brow furrowed, his fork paused mid-air. “What do you mean, ‘everything’?”

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. “I mean, the wedding has made me realise how different our visions for the future are. It’s not just about the size of the guest list or the colour palette. It’s about what happens after. You’re ready to settle down, to start a family, and I… I’m not.”

Jack’s fork clattered onto his plate, the sound sharp and jarring. “We’ve talked about this,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “You said you wanted that too—just not right away.”

“I do want it,” you said, your eyes welling with tears. “But I don’t know when, Jack. And every time we talk about the wedding, it feels like this countdown to a life I’m not ready for yet. You’re ready to step back, but I’m just getting started. There are still roles I want to take, things I want to do. I can’t give that up—not yet.”

He stared at you, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt. “I’m not asking you to give it up. I’m asking you to find a way for both of us to have what we want. Isn’t that the whole point of being together?”

You shook your head, tears spilling over now. “It feels like we’re on two completely different paths, Jack. You want to slow down, start a family, have this settled life. And I feel like I’m barely getting started. I don’t know how to make those paths line up.”

His shoulders slumped, and he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “So what are you saying? That this isn’t going to work?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I’m just… scared. Scared that we’ll keep trying to force this and end up resenting each other. Scared that one of us will always feel like we gave up too much.”

Jack’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, blinking rapidly. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said, his voice breaking. “But I don’t know how to keep us together when it feels like we’re falling apart.”

The admission hit you like a blow, and you reached for his hand, your fingers trembling. “I don’t want to lose you either,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t know how to fix this. Every time we try to talk about it, it feels like we’re just going in circles.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability beneath his frustration. “I love you,” he said simply, the weight of the words almost too much to bear.

“I love you too,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “But sometimes… sometimes love isn’t enough.”

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of everything you couldn’t say. Jack’s hand tightened around yours for a moment before he pulled away, standing and pacing the length of the dining room.

“Maybe we’re trying too hard to hold onto something that isn’t working anymore,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm.

You nodded, your heart breaking even as you acknowledged the truth of his words. “Maybe we are.”

He turned back to you, his eyes glistening with tears. “I don’t want us to hate each other,” he said, his voice trembling. “I don’t want us to turn into something we’re not.”

You stood, closing the distance between you, and wrapped your arms around him. He held you tightly, his face buried in your hair as he whispered, “I wanted this to work so badly.”

“I know,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest. “I did too.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of quiet tears and whispered goodbyes. You sat together on the couch, your hands entwined, saying everything you needed to say even as your hearts broke. There was no anger, no blame, just the quiet understanding of two people who loved each other deeply but couldn’t make it work.

When Jack left a few days later, his suitcase packed and waiting by the door, he turned to you one last time. “I hope you find everything you’re looking for,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. “You too,” you managed, the words barely audible.

As his car disappeared down the street, you stood in the doorway, tears streaming down your face. The house felt impossibly quiet when you stepped back inside, the echoes of your life together lingering in every corner.

But even through the pain, there was a small, fragile sense of relief. You’d made the right decision—painful as it was—and now, for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to hope that the path ahead might hold something new, something true.

The awards ceremony buzzed with the kind of electric energy only Hollywood could generate. The film had been nominated for multiple categories, including Best Picture, and the stakes felt impossibly high. You hadn’t attended an event like this in months—your first red carpet since the breakup—and the thought of facing the cameras, the questions, and the inevitable whispers made your stomach twist with nerves.

But tonight wasn’t about you. It was about the film, about the months of work that had pushed you to your emotional limits and left you forever changed. You’d spent the afternoon carefully preparing—your team perfecting every detail of your look until you finally felt like someone ready to step back into the spotlight. The gown you wore was sleek and understated, a shimmering black that caught the light just enough to feel glamorous without being ostentatious. It was a deliberate choice: elegant, confident, but nothing that screamed look at me.

The red carpet was as overwhelming as you remembered. Flashes exploded in bursts, reporters called out your name, and the cacophony of voices blurred into white noise. You smiled for the cameras, answering questions with poise, but the effort of it all left you breathless by the time you made it inside.

The venue was grand, its high ceilings adorned with intricate chandeliers that cast a warm, golden glow over the sea of perfectly dressed attendees. You navigated the room with the same grace you’d worn on the red carpet, exchanging polite smiles and making small talk as you slowly made your way to your table. The cast and crew had been seated together, a mix of familiar faces and new additions filling the space with laughter and quiet anticipation.

Austin was already at his seat. He looked up as you approached, his face lighting up with an easy, warm smile.

“Hey,” he said, rising slightly from his chair. “You made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, managing a smile that didn’t quite mask your nerves.

As you slipped into your seat a few chairs away from him, the rest of the table began to fill with the familiar faces of the production team. Celeste arrived shortly after, her energy as magnetic as ever, her soft grey gown a striking complement to her usual unassuming brilliance.

The ceremony began, and as the awards were announced, the tension in the room began to build. When the film won its first award for Best Sound Design, the table erupted into cheers, Celeste clapping exuberantly before raising her glass in a small toast to the sound team.

Between awards, the conversation at the table was lively, punctuated with laughter and shared memories. Celeste turned to you and Austin at one point, her expression softening as she placed a hand lightly on your arm.

“I’m so proud of both of you,” she said earnestly. “This film… it wouldn’t be what it is without the trust and vulnerability you brought to it. You carried so much of its heart, and I hope you know how extraordinary that is.”

You felt a lump rise in your throat, her words hitting you harder than you expected. “Thank you,” you said quietly. “That means everything coming from you.”

Austin, seated across from you, nodded, his voice equally sincere. “I don’t think I’ve ever worked on something that felt this… real. You pushed us in ways I didn’t know were possible.”

Celeste smiled warmly, her gaze darting between the two of you. “That’s what makes it so special. It’s rare to capture something so raw, so alive. I’ll always be grateful to you both for taking that leap.”

The conversation lingered in your mind long after Celeste had turned to speak with someone else. You stole a glance at Austin, finding him already watching you. He gave you a small, reassuring nod, and you felt a flicker of the trust that had defined your work together.

As the evening progressed, the film continued its winning streak, culminating in the announcement of Best Picture. When the title was called, the entire table erupted into cheers, a whirlwind of applause and celebration. You found yourself pulled into a series of hugs, but when Austin wrapped his arms around you, the moment felt different—longer, steadier, as if grounding you amidst the chaos.

“We did it,” he murmured, his voice warm against your ear.

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze. “We really did.”

The applause and speeches blurred into a wave of euphoria, the weight of the achievement sinking in as you stood together on stage with the rest of the cast and crew. The moment felt surreal, a culmination of months of work and emotion condensed into a few fleeting minutes.

The after-party was held in an opulent ballroom, the perfect backdrop for the industry elite to unwind after the ceremony. You floated between groups, a glass of champagne in hand, the glow of the night still warming your chest. The congratulations from colleagues and acquaintances were plentiful, and you did your best to accept them graciously, though the noise of the room felt overwhelming at times.

You spotted Austin near the bar, laughing with a few of the cast members. He caught your eye briefly and gave you a small wave, but before you could make your way over, another familiar face approached.

“Y/N,” came a voice, rich with warmth and mischief. It was Sophie, one of your co-stars from a previous project. She looked stunning, as always, her emerald gown shimmering as she leaned in for a quick hug. “You’re glowing tonight.”

“Thank you,” you said with a small laugh. “It’s been… a lot.”

“I can imagine,” she said, her tone dropping slightly. “Especially after everything with Jack. I didn’t want to say anything earlier, but… are you okay? I mean, it must be hard seeing the headlines and still being so put together.”

Your breath hitched slightly, but you managed to maintain your composure. “I’m fine,” you said, the practiced answer coming easily. “It’s been a while now.”

Sophie nodded, her expression softening. “Well, for what it’s worth, you look incredible. And you’ve got so much going for you—this film, all these awards… you don’t need anyone to complete you.”

“Thanks, Sophie,” you said, your smile genuine but small. “I appreciate it.”

She gave your arm a reassuring squeeze before disappearing back into the crowd. You turned away, exhaling quietly as you moved toward a quieter corner of the room.

“Y/N,” Austin’s voice came from behind you, soft but steady. You turned to see him standing there, his expression tinged with concern. “Are you okay? I saw Sophie talking to you.”

You nodded quickly, though your throat felt tight. “Yeah, I’m fine. She just brought up Jack, and it… caught me off guard.”

Austin hesitated, his hands slipping into the pockets of his tuxedo trousers. “I wasn’t sure if I should bring it up,” he said carefully. “I didn’t want to overstep.”

You shook your head, managing a small smile. “It’s fine. Really. It’s just… a little strange sometimes, hearing other people talk about it like it’s still fresh.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze warm and steady. “If you ever want to talk about it… I’m here.”

The simplicity of his words, the quiet sincerity in his tone, made your chest tighten. “Thank you,” you said softly. “But I think I’m finally starting to move forward.”

His smile was faint but understanding, and the two of you stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the noise of the party fading into the background. It felt natural, easy—like slipping back into a rhythm you hadn’t realised you’d missed.

The energy of the party shifted as the hours wore on. The initial rush of excitement mellowed into a relaxed, almost intimate atmosphere. The room was filled with soft laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the low hum of conversations that had become more personal as the night stretched on.

You found yourself gravitating toward Austin more and more, drawn by the calm he seemed to exude in contrast to the buzz of the crowd. The two of you had settled into a quiet corner of the room, where the chatter softened to a gentle backdrop and the lighting felt warm and forgiving.

“This is nice,” you said, leaning back against the plush cushions of the seating area. Your shoes were long abandoned, and you’d curled your legs beneath you. The champagne flute in your hand was still half-full, but you weren’t in a rush to finish it. “Being able to just… be, without a camera in my face or a question about my personal life.”

Austin chuckled softly, his posture as relaxed as yours. “It’s rare, isn’t it? These moments where you don’t have to perform for anyone.”

“Rare and precious,” you agreed, your gaze drifting over the room before settling back on him. “I’ve missed this—the quiet moments.”

He nodded, his smile soft. “I get that. Sometimes it feels like the only time you can really breathe is when the spotlight moves to someone else.”

For a while, the conversation meandered through safe, familiar territory—funny stories from the press tour, the chaos of awards season, and lighthearted jokes about how Celeste had probably orchestrated her own victory dance when the film won Best Picture. But as the noise of the party faded further into the background, the space between you shifted.

The way he looked at you felt different—softer, warmer, yet somehow more intense. You found yourself leaning in slightly, as though drawn to him without even realising it. His hand rested on the arm of the couch, fingers brushing against the fabric, and you resisted the sudden, irrational urge to reach out and touch them.

“Austin,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his name on your lips made your chest tighten. “Can I tell you something?”

His gaze flicked to yours, the easy smile on his face fading into something more serious. “Of course.”

You hesitated for a moment, the words caught in your throat. But the look in his eyes—steady, open, and utterly patient—was enough to push you forward.

“Being around you tonight,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “it feels… easy. Like I can breathe again. And I didn’t realise how much I needed that until now.”

His brow furrowed slightly, but his expression was full of understanding. “I’m glad you feel that way,” he said softly. “You deserve to feel at ease.”

You smiled faintly, your fingers tightening slightly around the stem of your glass. “It’s not just tonight, though. It’s… you. It’s how you are, the way you make everything feel so… uncomplicated, even when it’s not. You’re just… so good, with everyone. And with me.”

The confession hung between you, the air growing heavier with each passing second. His lips parted slightly, his eyes searching yours, but he didn’t speak right away. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, the vulnerability of the moment threatening to overwhelm you.

“I don’t know when it happened,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper now. “But somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing you as just a friend. And I’ve been trying so hard to push it down because it’s messy, and it’s not fair, and I’m scared of what it means. But I can’t keep pretending it’s not there.”

Austin exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing as though some invisible weight had been lifted. “Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice full of something you couldn’t quite name. “I think I’ve always seen you as more than a friend. I just… didn’t want to make things harder for you.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the raw honesty in them hitting you like a wave. “I thought it was just me,” you admitted, a faint laugh escaping you. “I’ve been trying to convince myself that it’s nothing, but it’s not nothing. It’s never been nothing.”

His hand shifted slightly, the tips of his fingers brushing yours where they rested on the cushion between you. The touch was so light it could have been accidental, but the way his gaze lingered on yours told you it wasn’t.

“It’s not nothing,” he said softly, his voice steady. “But I don’t want to rush you, or complicate things more than they already are.”

“You’re not,” you said quickly, your heart pounding. “Austin, you’re not making things harder. If anything, you’re the only thing that’s been making sense lately.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of everything unsaid hanging heavily in the space between you. His fingers brushed yours again, more deliberately this time, and your breath caught as the warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked suddenly, his voice low but steady.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Out of here? Like… now?”

He smiled faintly, his thumb brushing lightly against your knuckles. “Just for some air. No cameras, no crowd. Just us.”

Your pulse quickened at the suggestion, but you found yourself nodding before you’d even fully processed the question. “Yeah,” you said softly. “I’d like that.”

The courtyard was quiet, the soft glow of string lights above casting warm pools of light onto the cobblestones. A faint breeze rustled the leaves of the ivy climbing the walls, and the gentle trickle of the fountain filled the silence. You let out a slow breath, trying to ground yourself, but your heart was racing, every nerve in your body alive with the weight of what had just been said.

Austin stood close, his hands still in his pockets, like he was holding himself back. His gaze hadn’t left you since you’d stepped outside, steady and searching, his expression open in a way that made your chest ache.

“This feels…” He paused, his voice low, unsure. “It feels like we’re finally being honest.”

You nodded, your fingers gripping the edge of the wrought-iron bench beside you for balance. “I think we are,” you said softly. “And it’s terrifying.”

He let out a breathy laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Terrifying doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

You smiled faintly, the tension between you shifting, charged but no longer stifling. He took a step closer, his movements slow, deliberate, like he was giving you every chance to stop him. But you didn’t move. You couldn’t.

His hand lifted slightly, hesitating for a fraction of a second before brushing against yours. The faint touch sent a jolt through you, your breath hitching. Your gaze flicked to his mouth, then back to his eyes, and the unspoken question hanging in the air passed between you, heavy and certain.

You didn’t wait for him to close the gap. Pushing up onto your tiptoes, you slid your arms around his neck, your fingers threading into the soft waves at the nape of his neck. His breath caught, but he didn’t hesitate, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer as your lips met.

The kiss started slow, tentative, like the first notes of a song you’d been waiting to hear. His lips were soft, warm, moving against yours in a way that felt both careful and electric. You tightened your hold on him, your fingers brushing the base of his hairline, and he made a quiet sound in the back of his throat, almost like a sigh.

As the kiss deepened, you caught the faint taste of champagne on his lips, the sweetness mingling with the warmth of his breath. His tongue brushed against yours, tentative at first, before the kiss grew bolder, the restraint between you giving way to something more urgent. A soft whimper escaped you, and his hands tightened at your waist, grounding you, pulling you closer until there was barely any space between you.

Your body melted against his, your heart pounding as the heat of the kiss spread through you. The world around you—the fountain, the courtyard, the muffled sounds of the party inside—faded entirely. All that remained was the feel of him, the way his tongue explored yours, the gentle scrape of his teeth on your bottom lip as he broke the kiss just enough to catch his breath before diving back in.

His hands slid from your waist to your back, his fingertips pressing into the fabric of your dress like he couldn’t bear to let you go. You felt his hair between your fingers, soft and slightly mussed, and the quiet intimacy of the moment made your chest tighten.

When you finally broke apart, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathless, your lips tingling. His hands stayed on your back, holding you close as his thumb traced small, soothing circles just below your shoulder blade.

“You taste like champagne,” he murmured, his voice rough, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“So do you,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “And strawberries.”

His lips curved into a faint smile, and he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he said quietly, his voice filled with quiet reverence. “For so long.”

Your chest tightened, a swell of emotions rushing through you—relief, longing, and something deeper you weren’t ready to name. “Me too,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I just didn’t know how much until now.”

His hands shifted to cup your face, his thumbs brushing lightly across your cheekbones. “We’ll figure this out,” he said, his tone steady despite the faint shake in his hands. “Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out.”

You nodded, your lips brushing his in a soft, almost tentative kiss. It wasn’t urgent this time, but lingering, filled with quiet promises neither of you needed to say aloud. When you pulled back, you felt steadier, lighter, like the weight you’d been carrying for months had finally started to lift.

In the soft glow of the courtyard, his gaze held yours, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breathe. Whatever happened next, you weren’t alone in it. Not anymore.

#austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x you #fan fiction #fanfic #imagine #fiction

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jadewolf22 · 6 months ago

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Hiiiii!! Could I request a Lady Jane and Wife Reader, with some domestic fluff (at least, as domestic as Lady Jane can get if you know what I mean). Maybe something like they've been apart for a really long time hunting bounties and manage to meet up for their anniversary or sm?

Happy Anniversary

Sub!Lady Jane x Dom!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Guns, mentions of extreme violence, mentions of scars, mentions of kidnapping/hunting children, smut, oral (J recieving), thigh riding (r recieving), fingering (J receiving), strap-on (J receiving), orgasm denial, ect…

Summary: You give your lady a special gift for your first wedding anniversary.

A/n: Hi anon!! Thank you so much for the request! This is my first time ever writing for Lady Jane, so I hope I did her justice. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to include smut, but a married couple who hasn’t seen each other in a while probably wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off of each other…Word Count: 3,012

You couldn’t stop the sign that escaped your lips as you entered the threshold of your home, dropping your duffle bag and the bag of groceries you’d bought on the floor as you removed your jacket. The quaint little farmhouse that had been your childhood home was quiet, secluded by miles of dead fields and thick woodlands. You ran your fingertips over the bench along the wall, pleased to see that not too much dust had collected since your last stay. Work kept you away for weeks, sometimes months at a time and there was no one to stay and clean the place while you were gone.

Moving away from the threshold and into the living room you smiled softly, taking a moment to walk around and glance at the multitude of pictures decorating the space. Most of the ones on the walls and bookcases were from your younger years; birthdays, vacations with your parents, school activities and accomplishments, holidays and such. But it was the ones above the hearth that you loved the most. Jane, your lady and beloved partner, wasn’t one for taking many photos so there were only a few on the mantle, and you cherished each one like they were diamonds; Your first date at the shooting range, one of her birthdays at the bar, your first Valentine's Day hunting in the woods, a few engagement photos taken while you were working a job together, and one of your wedding here one the farm placed at the centre of them all. It was your first anniversary today, exactly one year of pure happiness for the two of you despite the gruesome reality of your jobs as bounty hunters.

The sound of tires against gravel drew you from your thoughts. You were sure you knew who it was but, just in case, you gripped the glock tusked into the waistband of your jeans as you moved to the window, peering out through the curtains. The sight of a gold car parking beside yours allowed you to relax, letting go of the weapon as you rushed back outside. You’d barely given Jane time to close her door before you were on her, strong, toned arms grabbing her by the waist and lifting her off the ground as you embraced the love of your life. A light chuckle left her lips, demanding that you set her down before she hugged you in return.

“I missed you, my love.” you said breathily—lifting Jane off the ground was no easy feat, despite how strong you were—kissing her gently.

“And I, you.” she returned, cracking the smallest smile.

You couldn’t have stopped the large grin that spread across your face even if you wanted to, insisting that you take her things before escorting her into the house. Jane found it quite adorable how you insisted on pampering her with even the smallest tasks, such as carrying her luggage—granted, it was only two duffle bags, one filled with her guns and extra magazines. Once inside you added your own bag to the load and headed upstairs, setting the bags down on your bed before you pulled her to you and kissed her again, this one a little deeper than the last.

“Happy anniversary, Jane.” you breathed.

“Is it our anniversary already?” she teased lightly, kissing your cheek, “My, does the time fly.”

“Indeed it does.” you agreed, moving away and beginning to unpack your bag.

Jane did the same, the two of you unpacking in a comfortable silence. You’d missed her terribly, her presence alone helping to soothe the ache that had built up after a month apart. When you were both unpacked and her guns properly cleaned and stored away the two of you headed back downstairs, putting away the groceries and preparing dinner as you talked about your most recent jobs. Yours had been easy; a couple of greens that had escaped the compound two months back, but Jane’s had been far more difficult. She’d gotten stuck with a group of yellows who’d disappeared nearly a year ago and, apparently, they had put up quite a fight. You hated it when she took the more dangerous jobs, always afraid that one day, one of them might kill her. But you knew that Jane could hold her own and, the more dangerous the job, the better the pay. A part of you felt sorry for the kids the two of you hunted, but you knew the world was safer without them. Children with supernatural powers were a recipe for disaster.

When the food was ready the two of you sat down to eat, easily falling back into the domestic pattern you’d adopted. It was easy to push the exhaustion and anxiety of your jobs when you were like this, content and at peace in your little corner of the world.

The meal was delicious, Jane's cooking far better than your own, and much more satisfying than the protein bars and canned food you lived off of while working. When you’d both finished, you took care of the dishes while Jane showered—despite how much you’d begged her to wait so you could join her. Once the dishes were done it was your turn to head upstairs, showering quickly and trading your dirty jeans and t-shirt for leggings and a tank top. Stepping out of the bathroom you found Jane stretched out on her side of the bed, damp brown hair cascading over her shoulders and a book in hand. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of big-bad Lady Jane looking so utterly adorable and domestic in grey sweats and a baggy red t-shirt.

She looked up from the book before you could hide your smile, muttering, “What?” as she set it aside.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, moving towards your side of the bed, “I’m just glad you’re home. You know how worried I get when you take jobs involving yellows.”

Jane rolled her eyes at your protectiveness, mumbling, “At least they’re not reds or oranges.” sitting up as you fished through the drawer of your nightstand, producing a black box and smiling as you sat down, presenting it to her.

“Happy anniversary, my lady.”

She rolled her eyes again at the nickname, taking the box from you and opening it with a small gasp. Nestled inside was a golden glock, the handle engraved with little vines that made both of your initials.

“It’s beautiful, y/n.” she whispered, looking up at you, “Where did you even—?”

“I have a friend who specialises in engraving guns.” you explained, trying to suppress just how happy her reaction made you, “I swung by his place on my way back home… Is it safe to assume you like it?”

“I love it.” you knew she did, but hearing Jane say it aloud made you ten times happier, “My turn.”

She reached over to her nightstand, plucking a little red box off of it that you had, somehow, failed to notice earlier. A cheshire-like grin adorned her face as she handed the box to you, making you that much more excited to see what was inside. Nearly tearing off the lid, your eyes fell on the silver bracelet lying against the black velvet lining of the box. At first glance, it looked like a simple band but, upon picking it up, you noticed her name engraved on the inside. Smirking, you had her help you but the bracelet on, noticing just how snuggly it fit your wrist. You laughed, realising that her name would be temporarily branded onto your skin if you wore it for long enough—and you had no intention of ever taking it off.

“It’s perfect.” you said softly, “Thank you.”

You leaned forward and kissed her again, smiling against her lips when her hand crept up your neck to thread itself in your hair. A groan escaped you when you felt her tug at your hair, making you kiss her that much harder as you grabbed her hips and pulled her across the bed to you, manoeuvring the both of you until you were straddling her waist in the middle of the bed without breaking the kiss. Jane whimpered a little as you manhandled her, her hands moving to the hem of your tank top and pulling it up your torso. You broke the kiss just long enough for her to pull the item over your head before your lips were attacking hers again, your leggings quickly following your shirt. Sliding your hands under her shirt, you gripped the waistband of her sweatpants, removing them and her underwear in one fluid motion. Her t-shirt was torn down the middle and haphazardly tossed somewhere in the room.

You paused for a moment and sat up, marvelling at the beauty beneath you. God, she was a masterpiece. Ivory skin that seemed to glow in the dim evening light, pale freckles splattered across her chest and shoulders, icy blue eyes dark with want, thick, deep brown hair that seemed nearly black against the white sheets underneath her, and a perfectly toned body with small, perky breasts that were practically begging for attention. You growled, your lips and teeth abusing her neck and shoulders, leaving bite-marks and bruises for her to find for days after you were done with her while your hands palmed her breasts. Jane panted and squirmed beneath you, nails tearing down your back as he hand nestled itself in your hair again, tugging harshly and scratching at your scalp.

“Please, y/n—God! I need you!” she whined, bucking her hips up towards you in search of some kind of friction.

“Miss me so much you’re needy already, hmm?” you teased, your mouth replacing one of your hands as you nipped harshly at her breast, causing Jane to release a low, near pornographic moan.

She opened her mouth to argue but, at that moment you plunged two fingers deep into her cunt and whatever she was about to say was replaced with a loud, broken moan. A steady string of “Ah, ah, ah”s fell from her lips as your digits pounded into her, your mouth moving to her other breast as your hand settled on her throat, squeezing gently.

“Mh—feel so good, baby.” you muttered against her skin, slipping in a third finger when the first two began to move within her too easily.

“Mph, please y/n, harder!” she cried as she felt her cunt streatch deliciously around your fingers, her nails digging painfully into your back and scalp as your digits slammed into her walls, “Yes! God, yes— Just like that—Ah!”

You tightened your grip on her throat a bit as you sat up, groaning at the sight of her cunt taking your fingers so deep that your wedding ring disappeared when you were fully inside of her, the titanium band coming out glistening with her arousal. Her cunt clenched around her fingers, her thighs tightening around your hand as she neared her climax but, just before she could fall over the edge, you pulled away. Jane went to complain, but the way your hand squeezed her throat in warning made her go silent. You licked your fingers clean, groaning at the taste of her on your skin.

“Relax, baby. You’ll get what you want.” you assured, reaching into the drawer of your nightstand and retrieving your harness and favourite strap, “You’ve just gotta be patient.”

Jane bit her lip as she watched you attach the strap to your body. The black, 8-inch was not the largest she’d taken from you, but it was most certainly the thickest. She released a sound between a whine and a groan as you teased her with the tip, nearly screaming when you began to force it into her, your hand coming back to her throat. The silicone cock stretched her cunt to the point where Jane felt as if she was being split in two and she loved it, her body tightening as a searing heat spread through her as you buried the strap up to the hilt inside her, beads of sweat making Jane’s skin glisten. Once she gave you the go-ahead you set a harsh, ruthless pace, hard, deep strokes filling her cunt so well it was a wonder she didn’t cum right then. Your grunts and Jane’s screams filled the room and it was moments like this that you were especially grateful your house was in the middle of nowhere. No one but yourselves and the animals could hear you.

“Miss you so much, my lady,” you grunted as you thrust into her, one hand still on her throat, the other harshly gripping her hip, “Missed having your pretty little cunt stretched out around my cock—Fuck, baby, I missed you—!”

“M-missed you, t-too!” Jane stampered, her hands moving to your hips to help guide your thrusts, “Missed your touch—! M-missed you in me—Shit, y/n, please make me cum!! Wanna cum so bad—!”

“I know, baby. Just hold on a bit longer. You’re doing so well for me—” you praised as her hands moved from her hips, one grasping at the bedsheet, the other wrapping around your wrist. The black diamond on her wedding ring glinted in the light as her body jolted with each of your thrusts.

“Mmmh—Fuck, y/n! Please—please, keep going! ‘M so close—Shit, y/n! I-I’m—I’m gonna cum— pleasepleaseplease!”

“Just hold on a bit longer, baby.” you said, slowing down your movements just a bit and making Jane practically cry, “Just a bit more, my lady. You’re almost there.”

You removed your hand from her hip, sliding it down between her legs to rub gentle circles over her clit. Her whole body contracted with the added pleasure, shaking in desperate need of release.

“Y/N—!!”

“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. Cum for me.”

“F-f-f-FUCK—!” Jane finished with a loud scream, legs tightening around your hips, back arching off the bed. Stars exploded behind her eyes and, for a moment, she couldn’t see. Her body felt as if she were floating as she relaxed back into the mattress, brain fuzzy and her mouth numb, her throat already burning from screaming so much. You slowed down as she rode out her high, stopping completely and taking a moment to admire just how ethereal she looked like this, skin flushed and slick with sweat, her head thrown back in euphoria, eyes scrunched tight and jaw slack. Slowly so as not to jostle or startle her, you reached out and cupped her face, gently stroking your thumb against her cheek.

“You did such a good job, baby.” you praised, releasing her throat as her eyes opened, unfocused and her pupils blown out, “Come on back to me, my lady. That’s it. I’m gonna pull out now, okay?”

Jane mumbled out a hoarse, “okay” and you slowly pulled out of her, the strap coated in her release. You removed the toy from your body and threw it on top of your clothes to be cleaned later, bending over and placing gentle licks and kisses over her bruising neck as you moved to position yourself on her thigh.

“My turn.” you husked, lowering yourself onto her thigh, “You just lay back and relax, baby.”

Jane sighed when she felt your slick core against her skin, whimpering a little as you began to rock yourself against her. Watching her unravel beneath you had made you so pent up that it didn’t take you long until you were nearing an orgasm, your breath laboured and thighs shaking.

“Mm, you feel so good against me,” you groaned in her ear, leaning forward and changing her head with your arm, practically laying on top of her as you rutted against her thigh, “So perfect. And all mine.”

Jane whined, nodding frantically, heavy arms reaching up to wrap around your shoulders. WIth a final snap of your hips, you came, smearing your slick across her skin and you moaned against her shoulder. Sighing, you sat up and kissed her, your fingers dancing over her stomach.

“Think you can take one more, my lady?” you asked gently, your tone making it clear that she had the choice of saying no, “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Jane nodded and you smiled, kissing her again as you slid down her body, levelling your face with her soaked cunt. You licked a broad stripe up her slit, placing a gentle kiss to her clit, making Jane shudder. Smiling, you licked at her folds, slowly forcing your tongue deeper inside of her, your nose brushing against her bundle of nerves. Jane whimpered above you, hands threading into your hair to keep you in place. Still recovering from her past orgasm, it didn’t take you long to bring her to the edge again.

“P-please, y/n—” Jane muttered, tears slipping down her cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure, “uh-ah! I’m-I’m gonna—!”

“Go ahead, baby.” you whispered, plunging your tongue deep inside her.

Jane came again with a shuddering moan, her release flooding your mouth and spilling down your chin. You lapped away at her release, cleaning her cunt with your tongue before moving up to kiss her again, sliding your tongue into her mouth so that she could taste herself on you.

Pulling away, you climbed off of her, grabbed the strap, and padded off to the bathroom, cleaning yourself and the toy before returning with a warm washcloth, gently cleaning her thighs and burning folds. Taking the cloth and both of your clothes you set them in the hamper, handing her the water bottle on your nightstand as you set off all the lights except for your lamp. Once she’d drunk enough you helped her beneath the covers and crawled into bed beside her, covering her body with your own.

“Happy anniversary, Jane.” you muttered, kissing the back of her head.

Jane hummed, releasing a large sigh before exhaustion overtook her and fell asleep. You smiled down at your wife, reaching behind you to shut off the lamp, welcoming the darkness as your eyes fluttered closed.

#gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #larissa weems #wednesday #jane murdstone #jan stevens #miranda hilmarson #captain phasma #lady jane #anon ask #anonymous #the darkest minds

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orangepeetals · 1 year ago

Text

THE GREAT WAR ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ (pt3

(playlist for a star series)

PEETA MELLARK X F.READER

pt1 / pt2 / next part

Summary: Peeta and Katniss must get married now to calm Snow or so they think.

a/n: i speak Spanish so the story was originally written in Spanish and then I translated it into English, plz don’t be rude if there is a mistake !! 😞

The engagement was made public, they made sure that each person in Panem knew about the wedding, they gave all the world’s attention to the show, the capitol made everything about the lovers of the 12th district, again.

Every thing that happened, every protest, every uprising, every arrest, they covered everything with the great ceremony of Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark.

Even with all the public attention they had, Peeta and you took advantage of every second they were hidden to continue loving each other as always, it was not just physical contact, you were really spending quality time, they took care of your flower garden in the victor’s village, as if it were about taking care of their love, they cooked together and every time they laughed together it was as if there was nothing else, it was almost like before, when they could, they escaped to some meadow where they could not see them, today was one of those days. The sound of the river was relaxing, this was accompanied by Peeta’s heartbeat, it was an orchestra for your ears, you were lying on his chest while the colors of the sunset were scattered throughout the sky, the breeze caressed your face, you smiled at the delicious sensation, Peeta left a kiss on your head and you felt that you could die there in his arms, you got up a little to be able to observe him but without separating much from his body.

“What are you thinking, loverboy?” You said while you let out a little laugh, you saw how he rolled his eyes by the nickname and bit your arm gently in a playful way before speaking. “I was thinking of us, I would like all this to end soon, I want to be with you y/n, I want us to have a family, I want to escape forever to a place where they can never find us, I don’t want the capitol to continue to own our lives, we should have escaped after your games.” He paused as he watched you with the most beautiful eyes that exist, stroked the back of your hand and left a little kiss in that place. “You don’t know how happy I feel every time I have to see wedding preparations, try on outfits and photo shoots but all that happiness goes to hell when I remember that it’s not you I’m marrying.”

Some tears fell down your cheeks at his words, it sounded so sad and lost, you wanted to protect him at all costs, why should something so beautiful feel pain? You didn’t have the words to answer him, you took his face in your hands and started a slow but intense kiss, you needed him to feel everything you were feeling, his hands caressed your waist, squeezing gently as they intensified the kiss, it was as if both were desperate to feel the other but it was still delicate and intimate. “Now it will not help us to escape, Peeta, they were going to find us no matter where we went, I have faith that all this will end at some point, I think that now Snow must be at peace with them getting married, he will not stop but at least he will calm the waters a little, while you and I will continue as we are, you know that you are mine and that’s what matters to me” Your words sounded soft, it was a great consolation for the blond, you laid back on his chest and dedicated yourself to giving him a lot of caresses, you knew that he was uneasy, all They were.

They had reasons to be…

——————

You decided to be alone for a while since Peeta had to keep seeing other things, your house felt alone and a little cold without his presence, you lay on the couch and turned on the TV, you didn’t usually watch TV because you really preferred to avoid things related to games or the capitol, not seeing that screen helped you get away from reality a little, that night you wished more than ever not to have turned on the damn screen, You saw Snow’s unpleasant face.

“The tributes will be chosen from those who have won before”

Your stomach turned. You appreciated oxygen too much at that time, because in a matter of seconds you felt your chest tight and as panic took over every part of you, you were so afraid, this feeling did not compare to any other fear before, not even when your name was chosen for the hunger games or when you heard Effie Trinket say the name of the person you love most in this life, now it was worse, there were chances that you would enter the quarter quell and you knew that if you were chosen, Peeta would enter at all costs, he would give your life for You without even hesitation. You needed to do something but you couldn’t think, you were on the floor while you cried and screamed in pain, the panic had paralyzed each of your senses, you lost track of time.

—————

You were walking towards Haymitch’s house, you had hit your head so many times that your forehead was bleeding and you were a total mess, you were pale, your hair tangled from pulling it so much, you looked horrible, the blows had left you stunned but you appreciated it, it was just what you needed, not to think. The door of the house was open, you entered without asking and saw him drinking as usual.

“It seems that someone didn’t like the news... your forehead is bleeding” Haymitch’s drunken words resonated in your head, you just let out a laugh, it was obvious that you knew you were bleeding.

“I need you to offer yourself as a tribute if they choose Peeta, it is obvious that Katniss will come out as a tribute, They want her to fight, Snow hates her and wants to see her dead, so I will offer myself, instead for Snow, Peeta is not a threat” Your voice sounded lost but you had no doubts about everything you said, you were sorry to lose Haymitch but nothing mattered if Peeta was safe, even your life did not matter.

“Wow... not even a ‘please’, sweetheart.” He laughed and drank more of his glass, you ignored his words and waited for some useful answer. “Peeta came half an hour ago to beg me to save you while you were trying to commit suicide even without knowing if you can get in there or not, Katniss kept asking me to help them, it seems that today is my day to be the most sought-after man in Panem but I will do it, because you deserve it and because I need to give a little emotion to my life” His words were firm, apparently he had already made the decision a lot before you asked him for something.

“Thank you, Haymitch, seriously, I’m very afraid” You hugged him and sobbed him, you felt your head burn from the blows you had given yourself and for having cried for a long time.

“You need to see Peeta, that he help you heal that wound before you pass out again or something like that” His words reminded you of that time you fainted from anxiety when Peeta was chosen in the reaping. You nodded in response to his words and went out in the direction of your boy’s house. As soon as you saw it, your heart broke into a thousand parts, he looked so sad and worried, he ran to meet you when it noticed all the blood on your face. “y/n, are you okay? Hey, honey, what happened?” His voice sounded as if he wanted to cry again, you regretted being so unconscious as to be able to respond, you simply let yourself fall into his arms, Peeta carried you to the house and took care of you with all the love in the world, he bathed you and took care of your wounds, you loved that it to be like that, actions like these made you fall in love with him every day, you slept entangled in his body, you didn’t want to leave him, you needed to be as close to him as possible.

————————

Peace was ephemeral, now you were walking towards the stage, escorted with peacekeepers, you knew what you were going to, so you walked with your forehead up, strutting that you were going to die and that you were not afraid of that.

Lie.

You knew that at all costs you were going to enter that arena again, being elected or voluntary, you had spoken to Katniss, you begged her not to offer herself in case your name came out, she refused but you managed to convince her, although this time you did not trust her word, it was sure that she had made some promise with Peeta but it certainly did not worry you, you knew that it was Katniss who they wanted to kill.

Effie’s voice this time was not celebratoous, it sounded more like a sad attempt to make things more lively but it wasn’t going to turn out, everyone knew it was unfair for them to come back, especially for Katniss and Peeta who had just gone through this.

“Katniss Everdeen” Effie’s voice exclaimed, you felt Peeta’s gaze on you and in a matter of seconds you had offered and you were already ahead, there was no turning back. Although there was a certain possibility that Peeta would not be elected, you didn’t want to risk it, you needed to know that it would be fine.

“Haymitch Abernathy” You let out a sob when you heard the name, you knew what was coming, Haymitch watched you with sadness, how much pain. Peeta offered himself as a tribute automatically.

You and Peeta gave each other a handshake as a greeting for being the tributes for the quarter quell, you hated that the odds were not in your favor, again. You were going straight to death, you could never hurt Peeta. The next thing was you on the train, back to the capitol.

#peeta mellark #peeta mellark x reader #the hunger games #peeta mellark fluff #Spotify

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jahayla-parker · 2 years ago

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📱 - i loved the freddy x sister oneee so what if it's 100% freddy x sister and just their playful banter back and forth🥰

Hope you like it

Sassing Siblings : Freddy Carter x Sister!Reader SMAU

Desc: Freddy and his sister engage in playful sibling banter on their social media platforms

Warnings: middle finger emoji, bantering, ‘bullying’

Notes: I know the Freddy photo is YSL not Prada but I switched it for the fic.

liked by carolinemford, yourusername, amitasuman_ and 874,256 others

freddycarter1: thank you Paris ❤️

view all 134,354 comments

yourusername: awe they captured you in your natural element; confused 😌

freddycarter1: 🙄 hilarious

kittheyounger: 😂👌🏿

carolinemford: ❤️

amitasuman_: what are you thinking about here?

yourusername: his wonderful sister of course 😉

freddycarter1: that would explain the confusion you referenced 😌

liked by carolinemford, prada, amitasuman_ and 568,138 others

yourusername: Brought to you by Prada 😘

view all 246,189 comments

carolinemford: y/n, you’re stunning 🤩

yourusername: tysm 🥰

amitasuman_: sporting Prada?! Congrats❤️

calahan.skogman: woah, congratulations y/n!

freddycarter1: put more clothes on 🙈

yourusername: 🖕 you’re just upset Prada chose me over you 😌

freddycarter1: no, I’m upset seeing my sister half naked on my instagram 🙄

carolinemford: Freddy relax, it’s tastefully done

yourusername: thank you Caroline 🤗 yet another person who chose me over you Freddy 😝

freddycarter1: 🙄🙄🙄 I suppose your face does look pretty

amitasuman_: such a Kaz-like compliment 😂

liked by carolinemford, yourusername, kittheyounger, and 532,167 others

amitasuman_: First film roll with the finest angels one could wish for

#sixofcrows

Have a lot to learn 😊

view all 325,781 comments

kittheyounger: Beautiful work x

sujaya_dasgupta: Beautiful

yourusername: one tip, for the first photo it would help to choose a better subject to shoot 😉 otherwise, these are incredible ❤️

freddycarter1: quit slagging off y/n 💁‍♂️

liked by prada, yourusername, carolinemford, and 754,256 others

freddycarter1: @/Prada

view all 634,246 comments

yourusername: copycat 🙄

freddycarter1: “first the worst, second the best” 😌

yourusername: beg your pardon? 😳

carolinemford: Freddy, rein it in 🤦‍♀️

archierenaux3: 🤤

prada: family of models ❤️

liked by freddycarter1, yourusername, amitasuman_, and 734,286 others

carolinemford: thank you IGH ❣️

view all 534,178 comments

yourusername: Caroline! You look stunning as always 😍

carolinemford: thank you love! ❤️ so glad to get you can you my little sister now 💍

yourusername: I’m glad you settled 😘

freddycarter1: this was a cute interaction… at first 🙄

yourusername: not sure what you’re referring to Freddy 🤷‍♀️😇

amitasuman_: lovely couple!

yourusername: @/freddycarter1 why do you look like a cardboard cutout of yourself? 🧐

freddycarter1: 😂 I didn’t see that one coming 👏

yourusername: I can’t get over how awkward you look here 💀 I know Caroline is stunning, but get it together you creep 😂

freddycarter1: 🙄 says the girl stalking her sister-in-law’s photo to comment again 💁‍♂️

liked by carolinemford, freddycarter1, daniellegalligan_, and 865,257 others

yourusername: Sneak peak 👑 w/ @/tchalamet coming to AppleTV soon 💙

view all 754,296 comments

tchalamet: love having you as a co-star 🥰

freddycarter1: @/tchalamet you’re in this too 🤯 I guess I’ll actually watch it then

yourusername: geeee, thanks 🙄 you’re such a great brother

freddycarter1: why thank you, I try 🥰😌

daniellegalligan_: y/n as a princess? Yessss!!! 💙

liked by freddycarter1, yourusername, kittheyounger, and 874,256 others

jacktwolfe: had a ton of fun at the S&B convention in Paris with my crow family ❤️

view all 134,354 comments

freddycarter1: ❤️

yourusername: aweee Jack, you’re so precious!

freddycarter1: I’m in this too 💁‍♂️

yourusername: 🤷‍♀️

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mariacallous · 11 months ago

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In the early morning of Jan. 11, a 21-year-old man was fatally shot in the West Bank settlement of Maale Adumim, just across the Green Line from Jerusalem. It was revealed that one of the suspects had recently acquired his gun license, thanks to National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir’s newly relaxed firearms policy.

The fear and tension across Israel since the massacre by Hamas on Oct. 7, 2023, mixed with the troubling turn internal security policies have taken, have created an atmosphere of armed paranoia—and led to the spread of armed militias with little training and an aggressive mindset.

Oct. 7 shattered the sense of personal security across the country, and many Israelis have started to organize their own ad hoc security arrangements in both villages and kibbutzim. This response includes a significant surge in applications for gun licenses, with more than 270,000 Israelis applying between Oct. 7 and Dec. 25. Police officials report a remarkable growth in civilian rapid response teams, which have expanded from 70 units to 900, incorporating more than 10,000 volunteers.

The widespread increase in firearms possession is not solely a spontaneous reaction from a worried populace but rather the result of pro-gun policies championed by the hard right, which have intensified under Ben-Gvir’s influence in the past year. This policy shift toward greater gun accessibility and ownership is a calculated move aligned with the hard right’s agenda, rather than just a direct response to public concern.

Ben-Gvir has advocated for increased private gun ownership, significantly relaxing the country’s traditionally stringent gun control laws and easing the rules of engagement for police officers. Last August, Ben-Gvir publicly commended an Israeli settler for fatally shooting a Palestinian teenager during a clash near the West Bank town of Burqa. After Oct. 7, Ben-Gvir called for a national campaign to give weapons to Israelis. His former cover photo on X, formerly Twitter, said in Hebrew, “Israel is arming!”

“People have lost their sense of security and felt that having a gun would bring it back. Ben-Gvir exploited this to advance his agenda,” said Wisal Raed, the coordinator of a project to combat violence and crime in Arab society at Sikkuy-Aufoq, a Jewish and Arab nonprofit organization.

“We need to go back to 20 years ago, to the Second Intifada,” said Eitay Mack, a human rights lawyer who writes about Israel’s gun industry. “In response to the Intifada, Israel saw a proliferation of security guards in public spaces, from cafes to malls to train stations, with tens of thousands of them armed. Fast-forward to the ‘knife intifada’ [a period of increased Israeli-Palestinian violence starting in October 2015, characterized by numerous stabbing attacks by Palestinians against Israelis] and the late 2010s, when then-Internal Security Minister Gilad Erdan passed a law lowering the bar for who can get a gun. Then, in the last elections in November 2022, Ben-Gvir ran on relaxing these laws even more. For the hard right, weapons aren’t a pragmatic necessity but an ideological belief.”

Ben-Gvir’s agenda was clear long before Oct. 7. After he took office in late 2022, he ordered the police to abolish the practice of requiring citizens involved in an attack to hand over their personal weapons for extended examination and investigation. During the protests that swept Israel in 2023, Ben-Gvir worked to oust Tel Aviv District Commander Ami Eshed, whom he saw as siding with anti-government protesters. Meanwhile, Israel saw its deadliest year on record among Arabs, with 244 killings attributed to crime and protection issues—six times the number among Jews—and a mere 10 percent solve rate, less than half the solve rate for cases involving Jews.

“Ben-Gvir has deliberately weakened the police to establish a ‘national guard.’ The privatization of law enforcement leaves citizens with no choice but to protect themselves,” Mack said.

For Ben-Gvir and his allies in the gun lobby, Oct. 7 was an opportunity. The new regulations initiated by Ben-Gvir have significantly reduced the criteria for obtaining firearms. Among other measures, they allow volunteers in rescue organizations (such as Israel’s national medical emergency, disaster, ambulance, and blood service) to obtain gun licenses; lower the certification threshold from “Rifleman 07” (a soldier who’s skilled in combatant training and advanced weaponry) to “Rifleman 02” (a noncombat soldier who has gone through basic training); and permit, from the age of 27, even those who have not served in the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) and reside in eligible settlements (those near the Gaza border, including Ofakim, Netivot, and Sderot) to acquire a handgun license. Licensing regulations have been loosened, and in-person interviews are no longer required.

Members of kibbutzim and moshavim can now obtain handgun licenses through their agricultural associations. This move, alongside the establishment of hundreds of rapid response teams equipped with rifles, has created a sense of an “arming nation.”

In a Jewish Power party meeting last October, Ben-Gvir doubled down on his gun policies, saying, “The war’s onset confirmed our belief: Having a weapon in every location can save lives.”

But guns aren’t for everyone. The licenses of several members of the anti-Netanyahu group “Brothers in Arms” were taken away for “conspicuous reasons,” with members saying they were targeted for their anti-government stance.

Ben-Gvir also put out a directive permitting police to use live fire against those blocking roads, thereby hindering the movement of IDF personnel and access to settlements. Critics of this directive argued that it was meant to target anti-government protesters and Arab communities. When Arab members of Israel’s parliament, or Knesset, planned a protest to call for a cease-fire, they were detained by the police.

The new militias—and their weapons—are visible on the streets, to public alarm. Tel Aviv council member Tzipi Brand sent a letter to Mayor Ron Huldai protesting the actions of rapid response units that arbitrarily stop Arab residents, causing terror among the population. One of these units includes “The Shadow,” a rap artist with extreme-right views and a notoriously violent following.

Crime is also up. In early 2024, a woman was sexually assaulted at gunpoint allegedly by a man who had obtained his weapon after Ben-Gvir loosened regulations.

Guns have also not proved effective even in stopping terrorism. On Nov. 30, 2023, a shooting attack at the entrance to Jerusalem resulted in the deaths of four Israelis, including a tragic case of mistaken identity. Yuval Doron Castleman, a 38-year-old lawyer from Jerusalem’s outskirts, was among those killed. Castleman, who was at the scene, used his weapon to engage the attackers. However, in a distressing turn of events, he was mistakenly shot by Aviad Frija, a reservist soldier.

When the soldiers arrived, Castleman knelt down, discarded his weapon, and identified himself as Israeli, yet Frija, who is linked to the Hilltop Youth—a group of young extremist settlers—fatally shot him. Frija served in the “Sfar Hamidbar” (“Desert Frontier”) unit, a military group formed to integrate Hilltop Youth members into army service in the West Bank. This unit has faced scrutiny and is under investigation for alleged torture of Palestinians and violence against leftist activists.

Frija was initially placed under house arrest but was released in early January amid a controversial investigation. Although the police initially stated that an autopsy was unnecessary, Castleman’s body was later exhumed when the Military Police disagreed and determined it was needed. The subsequent examination revealed bullets from an M16, the same make of Frija’s gun.

Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, already condemned by many Israelis for the security failures leading up to Oct. 7 and the subsequent handling of the war, has faced additional criticism for his perceived dismissive reaction to Castleman’s death. Responding to a question about the accidental killing, Netanyahu remarked, “That’s life.”

Following the shooting, the IDF clarified that its engagement rules prohibit shooting at suspects with raised hands. They announced the “preliminary arrest” of Frija, who later said he acted in self-defense.

“Reservists didn’t used to take guns off the base,” Mack said. “It’s a result of the chaotic environment coupled with right-wing policies. Rapid response units are supposed to be linked to the police. They are supposed to train them. But with so many units and so many weapons, the police can’t oversee all [of] them.”

With so many guns and groups of citizens organizing, there’s a concern that some of these guns are falling into the hands of fringe right elements: Rafi Kedoshim, a member of the Likud party who has a history of incarceration and is alleged to be the head of a crime family, runs a rapid response biker unit. Moshe Ben Zikri, associated with the Jewish Power party and known for his right-wing activism, also leads a rapid response team. Ben Zikri, who has been arrested for protesting LGBTQ Pride events and interfaith marriages, heads a unit that the mayor of Harish says has become uncontrollable and refuses to cooperate with municipal authorities. Another group, the Barel Unit, was established by Jewish Power MK Almog Cohen to bring “security back to the Negev.”

For Arabs in Israel, the civilian arms race is particularly terrifying because the incitement against them is coming from the top, whether from Netanyahu, who in 2015 claimed “droves of Arabs” were heading to the polls to oust him, or Ben-Gvir, a Kahanist who was convicted of racist incitement, or Cohen, who made animal noises at Arab MKs during a parliamentary session last year.

Arab-Jewish relations in Israel have always been fragile, but since Oct. 7, they have reached a critical point. Many Arabs perceive increasing hostility from higher authorities, as shown in the recent arrests of Arabs over social media posts and likes. These incidents contribute to a growing sense of unease among everyday Arabs, who feel threatened in a public sphere brimming with firearms. “It feels like all these weapons are aimed at me,” said Raed, the Sikkuy-Aufoq coordinator.

Scrutiny over Ben-Gvir’s policies has been mounting. In late November, the Israeli daily Haaretz reported that the Ministry of National Security had improperly appointed staff to approve gun licenses. In response to the high demand, Ben-Gvir had called for an increase in the number of clerks in the Firearm Licensing Department to process these licenses.

The responsibilities of these clerks include assessing the physical and mental fitness of applicants and verifying their training. But it turned out that training was inadequately short, lasting only one day instead of the usual month, and was done from within the ministry. Following these revelations, Yisrael Avisar, the head of Firearm Licensing Department, resigned.

Ben-Gvir also came under scrutiny from the White House when pictures of him distributing assault rifles to civilians at a political event were circulated online. In response, the White House delayed a shipment of thousands of U.S.-made rifles, worried that they would fall into the hands of settlers.

In early 2023, MK Mickey Levy of the Yesh Atid party petitioned Israel’s High Court against a law expanding Ben-Gvir’s powers over the civilian police. Following the Haaretz revelations, Levy and MK Gilad Kariv of the Labor Party also called on Attorney General Gali Baharav-Miara to consider a criminal investigation regarding the issuance of licenses in the Ministry of National Security.

The widespread availability of guns raises the alarming prospect of political violence, including by the police, which has intensified over the past year due to the movement against judicial reforms and the war. Recently, right-wing protesters have been targeting the families of hostages, accusing them of undermining Netanyahu’s government. The day after the war ends will not mean an end to violence in Israel.

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monaisme · 4 months ago

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Sicktember #23

#23- Under a Spell

Peter wasn’t going to complain. Nope. He was going to be the bigger person and accept the fact that he was technically a “Junior Avenger,” and that IF he was even going to be called out for a mission, nine and a half times out of ten, he was going to be tasked with civilian evacuation and securing the perimeter.

It was all good.

Yup.

No complaints here.

At all.

Peter sat on the edge of the now empty office building, feet swinging in boredom as he watched the battle between yet another wizard from some other dimension in the multiverse, Doctor Strange, and the rest of the team going on a dozen blocks away.

“Hey, Karen,” Peter figured it was time to check in again. “Any movement on the perimeter? No crazy reporters trying to sneak in for a photo op, or dogs getting away from their owner or anything like that?”

“Nothing is showing on any of the CCTV footage, Peter, though I’m not entirely sure that Mr. Stark intended for you to be using me to hack into the city security feeds like this.” Karen replied.

“Relax, Karen. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Stark does the same thing, and if nothing else, Mr. Stark will appreciate my working smarter... not harder, right? Besides,” Peter’s spider senses flared, but he knew it needed to play it cool. “This way, I’m freed up if something else pops up that requires an extra set of hands!”

Peter jumped off the roof edge and away from the mystery threat just before a purple beam blasted away the brick he’d been sitting on barely a moment before. “Uh, Mister—shoot! I mean, Iron Man!” Peter called out as he swung out of the way of each subsequent blast, “I thought you guys said there was only one wizard?!”

“Yeah! Because there was only one!?” Iron Man replied even as Peter could hear his repulsor beams firing off in the background. “Are you telling me there’s another one of these guys?”

Peter zigged down an alleyway, then zagged back around the building, hoping the tighter corners would slow up whoever was behind him and switch up their positions. “Yup! And he’s pissed! I’m just trying to—” Peter swung around the third corner and caught a glimpse of purple cape fluttering as it entered the alley. The plan had worked! “Gotcha!”

“Gotcha!? Spider-Man! Do not engage with this guy! We don’t know who he is! I’m sending—” Iron Man paused, then, “Falcon and Widow are en route, kid! For the love of all—”

Whatever else Tony was going to say, it was lost in a haze of determination. Peter had committed to the plan. He was gonna catch this mystery player and finally show the rest of the Avengers that he could do the big things. He was ready. There was no way it could go wrong, right?

Peter practically careened around the corner, expecting to see the back of whoever this person was, but—

Peter stopped short, entirely against his will, suspended in the air and frozen still.

“Finally,” Peter’s eyes widened, as he glanced around trying to see who was speaking, yet unable to turn his head. He heard footsteps beneath him as his attacker stepped into his limited view. The wand caught Peter’s attention before noting the dour looking young man wielding it. He was dressed as stereotypically as one could be for a formal, wizard-like type; robes, cape, funny hat and all. “You’re here.”

Peter’s brow furrowed. He tried, but couldn’t move any of his larger muscle groups, so at least he could talk—though the intermittent crackling of his comm in his ear told him let him know that no one could hear him. He was on his own. It was time to hope... and stall. “Of course I’m here.” Peter replied, indignant. “You tried to blast me from behind! Do you think I’m just gonna walk it off? What the heck, dude? So not cool!” Peter struggled against his invisible restraints.

Peter’s captor snarled, “There’s no point in fighting the bindings. They will only release you at my bidding—or my death. You see, my master has taught me well, and I will finally prove that to him by bring him a...trophy, if you will.” The disgust on his face as he spit out his words only angered Peter more, knowing that he couldn’t act on it.

So de-escalation it was, “Buddy, look. If you’re trying to impress your boss, I get it. AND I’ve got a million different ways to do that that don’t include poor sportsmanship and invisible rope. C’mon, man!” Peter huffed. “I know a great coffee shop around the corner! Seriously, bring him a great macchiato and show up five minutes early, and you’re in!”

The man was not amused, “You mock my intent?!” The wand sparked and the wizard opened his mouth to speak.

“No!” Peter cried out, continuing to strain against the bindings, just in case he was wrong. “I get it! Trust me on that! Why do you think I’m here!?” Peter was getting worked up, so he took a couple of deep breaths before he continued, “My boss doesn’t think I can do anything either. Seriously. I’m fairly certain that I’m a full on embarrassment to him, but honestly, you just keep working hard, you know? He’ll see you eventually. It doesn’t mean you have to resort to something this.”

“I thought you were acting as a sentinel?” The young man, probably not much older than Peter, now that he could get a better look at him, seemed confused.

Well, if that hadn’t made the job Peter hated most sound so much cooler than Peter had originally considered it. Peter sighed. “I’m pretty sure I was just put there to not cause trouble and stay out of the way—and still, you managed to sneak up on me.”

The wizard immediately took offense at Peter’s interpretation of events, “There was no sneaking! I’ve worked quite hard to perfect transporting via time ripple. You, sir,” again, another look of absolute disdain, “should not have had any warning at all! How did you manage to escape my spell?”

“That was an actual spell?!” Peter gaped. While he had assumed, to receive actual confirmation was pretty astounding. The sound of Falcon’s wings came from the distance. It was time to keep him distracted. “Holy crap!” Peter started laying it on thick, “So you really are, like, a sorcerer’s apprentice!?”

The young man scoffed, “Apprentice!? You insult me. I am meant to be so much more than an apprentice. My master simply has yet to see my potential.”

“You’re preachin’ to the choir there, my friend,” Peter sympathized, trying to keep the guy’s attention away from Sam now that he’d come fully into view, “and speaking of friends...”

Redwing had set off from his base on Falcon’s chest plate silently and hovered behind the wizard as Falcon aimed both his gauntlets at him and called out, “Lower your weapon, Gandalf, and no one gets hurt.”

The wizard froze, then smiled slow... and devious. “Clever work, sentinel. Providing distraction while you wait for aid. I am impressed. Too bad it will do you no good.”

In a flash, Peter was released from his invisible prison and dropping gracelessly to the ground as the wizard’s focus turned to Falcon. His wand sparked purple and Peter knew that whatever was going to come out of that wand was something Sam could not handle.

“TAM GALAGHOSHAM KURUT!” The incantation left his mouth as he pointed his wand and tried to dodge the other superhero’s anticipated fire—

And with no thought, Spider-Man was back in play. With a thwip of his webshooters, the man’s wand was re-directed and casting wide.

Falcon acted immediately, firing both gauntlets and taking the wizard down. Red Wing had released a net of filament upon the prone boy, then circled above, now prepared to provide more lethal aid, if required.

And Peter assessed the scene while Sam nudged the wizard with his boot.

“Is he dead?” Peter had to ask. After all, he’d said...

“Nah, just stunned. I’m guessing this guy’s a newbie compared to the other one, ‘cause that sure as hell wouldn’t have worked on him.”

Peter felt restless.

Something was still wrong.

A small gasp came from somewhere above, not that Same could have heard it. Peter paled as he realized, “Shit.”

“Spider-Man?” Falcon questioned, “Is everything—”

“Get medical to the roof!” Peter called out as he shot a web and pulled himself up to the roof of the building they’d been set beside. “Nat needs help!”

Peter couldn’t hear if Sam had responded and honestly didn’t care, as long as he was doing it. He only knew that he needed to get to Nat... and fast. He’d messed up. It was his fault that she’d gotten hit—his stupid plan, and if anything happened to her, Peter would never- ever forgive himself.

He found her within seconds, kneeling on the ground with her hands scratching at her throat as she tried and failed to breathe.

“NAT!” Peter called out to her, pulling his mask off as he ran to her. “What’s wrong?! Are you choking? It looks like you’re choking!”

Nat’s eyes widened with fear as she nodded a frantic ‘yes.’

“Okay!” Peter was trying desperately to not freak out. “I can deal with choking,” he said more to himself than Nat. “I’ve got this.” Never had Peter been more grateful for Sam and his insistence that they all take a truncated field medic course. He moved into position behind her. “I’ve got you, Nat. You’re going to be okay.” Why was he sounding so winded? It didn’t matter. “Okay, quick thrusts,” he whispered, not that it mattered. Nat was starting to flag. “One.” Nothing happened. “Okay, two...” Peter paused to swallow back the nausea, knowing he’d hesitated as he felt Nat’s ribs crack beneath his fists. “Sorry! Sorry! We’ve got this, Nat, promise—three!”

Peter could feel the air moving out of Nat’s lungs as he watched a glowing purple sphere eject itself from Nat’s body and hover in front of them, almost like it was making a decision. Peter eyed it warily.

This was not good.

Before Peter could decide what to do next, one of Doctor Strange’s sling ring portals flared open and he and Iron Man stepped out. “STAY BACK!” Doctor Strange ordered them all and, with a grace the dick of a Harry Potter knock-off down on the street could only wish to reproduce, conjured up his mystical mandalas, then bolts flew from his hands, and the purple sphere was gone.

“Peter!” The Iron Man mask flipped up and Mr. Stark’s worried face appeared before him. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Peter pushed him away. “No, it’s Nat! I—she’s—” Peter didn’t know how to explain. “Just take care of her! I’m fine!” He needed to pull it together. “She was choking on the ball and I—” He wanted to say that he’d broken her ribs and that it was his fault that she’d been choking in the first place but all he could get out was, “Heimlich.”

Doctor Strange was already with Nat, now lying in a sort of modified recovery position while he examined her. He had to know what Peter had done to her.

Her breathing sounded so bad.

“I’m going to transport her to your med bay, Tony, then I’ll pop back to deal with this other one. Alright?”

Mr. Stark nodded in agreement. “Sounds like a plan,” then put a comforting arm around Peter. “I’ll get things ready for you here.”

In a flash, the two had disappeared from the rooftop and Peter was left alone with his mentor, and his colossal mess. He’d let someone get the jump on him, he’d gotten captured, and then when he’d finally gotten free because of one actual Avenger, he’d manage to get another Avenger blasted with a spell and she almost died.

Maybe the wizard guy knew a trick to make him disappear...

How was this his life?

/-/-/

It was hours later and they had yet to call Peter in to debrief.

Maybe they were plotting how to fire him?

To be fair, Peter had holed himself up in a recliner in the corner of Nat’s room in the med bay—but only after checking to make sure Nat would be okay with it. No one would expect her to feel a hundred percent safe with him around. After all, he had broken two of her ribs and cracked two others for good measure, not that she blamed him... or so she said.

“I can hear you being stupid from all the way over here,” she croaked out.

Oh, yeah. How had he forgotten about the damage to her throat from the ball?

“I’m not being stupid.” Peter pouted.

“Yes, you are, and if you think I’m blaming you for the actions of an obviously disturbed young man, then you are mistaken. So stop being an idiot.”

“But you’re hurt!”

“I’m on the good drugs, Peter.”

“They made you throw up!”

“Those obviously weren’t the good drugs. Relax.” Her head lolled to face him. “I’m fine now.”

“But I broke your ribs...”

“And if you hadn’t, I’d be dead.” Nat looked him dead in the eyes and asked him, “Would you rather I was dead? Because those were the only options you had available to you, Spider baby.”

Peter harrumphed, his cheeks pinking in embarrassment. “Of course not. Now who’s being stupid?”

Nat smiled softly at the boy, then turned toward the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway. Even on the good drugs she was incredibly perceptive. “Someone’s here.”

“Knock knock,” Mr. Stark rapped against the door frame before entering her room. “Hey, Nat, I thought I’d stop by to check in to see how you’re doing and to ask if you’d seen Pete, but I can see that he’s here and if you’re making him blush like that, you’re apparently fine and I’ve managed to find his newest hiding spot! So two birds, one stone—yay!”

Peter tried to shrink further back into the corner.

Mr. Stark couldn’t hide his concern at Peter’s reaction. “Pete?” He stepped closer to the kid. “What’s going on? Are you okay? I’ve been looking for you all afternoon.” He kept a little distance, for Peter’s sake, “I wanted to, uh, talk to you about this afternoon... and that Oscar guy.”

Peter couldn’t help but ask, “Who’s Oscar?”

“You know... your wizard? Oscar.”

Peter couldn’t help but crook a half smile. “Oh, um, okay. He didn’t exactly introduce himself so...”

“Well,” Mr. Stark waved his response away, “it doesn’t matter anyhow. Strange is taking care of him and his boss right now, so once they have their little chat with all the other wizardy bigwigs, we won’t need to worry about them anymore.”

Peter looked guiltily over to Nat in her bed, “Oh, good. I’m glad...”

Now, Tony Stark was not known for his emotional intelligence on the best of days, but he was trying. And while he could accept that Pete was bummed about Nat being hurt, guilt was a completely unacceptable response after all he’d done today. “Hang on. Kid.” He pointed an accusing finger at Peter, “Are you seriously blaming yourself for what happened?”

The floor was suddenly the most interesting thing in the room for Peter.

Mr. Stark was not having it. “Whoa back there. First off, you were doing exactly what you were supposed to be doing and managed to detect him and report back to us before he could cause who knows what kind of mayhem. We’d have dealt with his boss, sent him back and called it done before even knowing he was here—not that he was even supposed to be here anyways!”

“We know that.” Peter replied, confused at the odd wording.

“No, he really wasn’t supposed to be here,” Tony laughed. “Apparently Oscar has some issues with authority in a big way, and had been relegated to rat spleen duty, or whatever it is they do as punishment back in his home universe. He decided to go against his psycho boss’s wishes and snuck through the portal without getting caught by anybody—until you.

“What?!”

“Oh, yeah.” Tony continued the story. “And I guess Oscar sneaking through a portal with him is a huge deal—all sorts of rules and regulations around portal travel, it would seem. And, boy-oh-boy, Evil Boss Man was NOT happy when he and Oscar were reunited before transport.”

Peter shrugged, recalling Oscar’s words as he’d stalled. “Yeah. That jives with things.”

“Right?” Mr. Stark got quiet for a few seconds and then, “But—I mean, if you really think about it though, it maybe his boss just wanted him to be safe while he was out doing his evil world domination thing?—Like he wanted Oscar to maybe have some more experience under his belt before jumping into the deep end of the pool?”

Peter shrugged again and thought for a moment. “Maybe? I don’t know—wouldn’t Oscar have already had to prove himself to be there in the first place?”

“Maybe Oscar’s boss cared and wanted to keep him safe?”

Peter gasped as his heart dropped. Had Mr. Stark—? But the comm was— “Oh, no.”

“Peter?”

“Please, Mr. Stark. Tell me you didn’t hear what we were talking about?”

Tony squirmed at Peter’s discomfort. “I could... but I’d be lying.”

“Oh, no.”

“So did I, if that makes you feel any better,” Nat piped in from her bed.

Peter closed his eyes and banged his head against the wall.

“I wouldn’t advise doing that, Mr. Parker.” Doctor Strange entered the room. “A self-inflicted concussion would hamper your appreciation of the fact that you are the hero of the hour.”

Peter stopped immediately and his eyes popped opened, “What?” Peter asked in confusion. “I don’t understand?”

But Mr. Stark jumped in. “Forget about the ‘what’ for a minute! You literally just left! How can you be back already?”

Doctor Strange simply smirked, “Master of the Mystic Arts and Keeper of the Eye of Aggamoto, Tony. Keep up.”

Mr. Stark glared. “Fine, be that way. Now, what are you talking about? We already know that Peter saved Nat.” He gestured toward the assassin on the bed. “Duh.”

Doctor Strange shook his head and turned his attention to Peter. “I am talking about the fact that you, Spider-Man-slash-Peter Parker, just unintentionally saved half of the planet, and I personally thank you.”

Peter looked between Doctor Strange and Mr. Stark. “Huh?”

“Well, Peter,” Doctor Strange explained, “It would seem that the spell Oscar had intended to cast on Sam was one he’d only found a few days ago, in a book full of the darkest of magyks—and one that his master had thought was hidden well enough to keep out of the hands of over eager apprentices. The spell itself had originally been created as a spell of war, made to wipe out an opposing village’s warriors, but its maker had realized it was too powerful to control and had hidden it away. Oscar was at the beginning of his studies, and had chosen to bypass some of the ‘less exciting’ aspects of his craft.”

Tony picked up what Dr. Strange had said, “’Was?’ Am I correct in assuming he’s no longer an apprentice?”

Doctor Strange nodded. “Even megalomaniacs intent on world domination need a population to crush. Oscar would have left him with something infinitely less enticing. I’m not sure that Oscar is even breathing.”

“But he just wanted his boss to notice him!” Peter blurted out. His mind raced. Did he have another death on his hands? His breathing sped up.

“Peter, listen to me.” Doctor Strange moved to stand directly in front of the boy, hoping to cut off what looked like the start of a panic attack. “If that spell had been allowed to hit Sam, that sphere would have choked the life out of him, left his body, and continued on hunting down man after man, killing them all until there was literally none alive.”

“But—”

“But” Doctor Strange continued, “because our dear Widow here is NOT a man, the spell was confused and couldn’t complete its purpose until—”

Peter flashed back to that moment with the sphere as it seemed to be waiting... figuring something out. Not that it mattered, “It still would have killed her, I know it!”

Doctor Strange stepped closer to Peter, his tone softening. “It would have, but with no male anchor after that first death, it would have died with her. It hitting her at least gave you chance to save her... and me a chance to get there and deal with the sphere.”

Peter blanched and looked over to Nat, alive and breathing in the med bay bed. “I’d have done the Heimlich for Sam, though. I could have—”

“No, Peter. If it had caught hold in Sam, it would have physically anchored itself. There’d have been nothing you could have done for him... or any of us.”

Peter was glad he was sitting. “Oh.”

Doctor Strange put a comforting hand on the shaken boy’s shoulder, “Yeah. Oh.”

Peter sat with that for a moment, thankful that none of the others felt the need to say anything.

Soon enough, Doctor Strange excused himself to oversee the destruction of what was an impressive yet fully evil-imbued archive, leaving Peter alone with Nat and Mr. Stark.

“Well, it would seem that all of this was worth it in the end after all, wasn’t it, Peter?” Nat offered.

Peter thought on that for a minute. “I don’t even know what to say?” Peter looked lost.

“Maybe don’t say anything? It’s okay if you have to take the time to process the bigger stuff.” Mr. Stark offered. “I know the rest of us do from time to time.”

“I’m just...” Peter’s words trailed off into nothing.

“In awe of how amazing you are? Shocked that Strange can be an actual human being? Ready for a nap?”

Peter thought seriously about those options. “No?”

“How’s about being ready to hear an apology from your boss for not taking your strengths into account when we plan our missions?”

Peter stared up at Mr. Stark and blinked.

“But sometimes, we really will need you to do civilian evac and securing the perimeter!” Mr. Stark added hastily. “That really is a thing we do.”

Peter smiled a shaky smile, twisting his hands together nervously. “I know that, and that’ll still be cool... but...”

Mr. Stark put his own supporting hand on Peter’s shoulder, “But what?”

Peter looked over a Nat, then back at Mr. Stark before mustering up the nerve—

“What would you say if we called it being a Sentinel?”

#Sicktember 2024 #Day Twenty-three: Under a Spell #Day 23 #MCU #Whump #Hurt/Comfort #Wizards #Peter Parker needs a hug #Protective Tony Stark #Peter feels unappreciated #Irondad & Spiderson

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