#she came and introduced herself and that would be fine

[boyapologist]

truly don't understand what's wrong with some flight attendants sometimes

[s-brant]

Three’s Company

When Patrick visits his best friend at Stanford University, Art’s new fling finds herself stuck between two very attractive men.

9k (18+)

Warnings: smut, threesome, unprotected p in v, double penetration, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, they’re all pervs, and strong language.

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The room is stiflingly hot.

There is no air conditioning in her study/fuck buddy's dorm to keep up with the late April heat that has descended upon Stanford's campus so quickly. Three different fans are plugged into outlets around the cramped living space, yet it does little to keep her body cool enough to feel comfortable.

Sleeping with Art was an impulsive decision. The first time was merely weeks ago after he politely asked if she would share her notes from a class he was absent from. They exchanged numbers to organize the meeting, and she ended up talking to him for the better part of an hour in the dining hall. Although she did not recognize it as flirting—the oblivious little thing she is—he shyly commented on seeing her at one of her gymnastics competitions and refused to let her get dinner with her meal credits. Looking back, his intentions should have been obvious to her, yet she does not think badly of him over it. If anything, she likes how wanted he made her feel. He knew what he wanted and ensured that he got it.

They came back to his room to study—only to study, he claimed with his hands held up to proclaim his innocence—for their approaching final exams.

"Good," she said with a teasing lilt to her voice, slinging her bag onto her shoulder and turning to walk in the direction of his dorm building. "Cause it's way too hot to be doing anything else."

They were both laughing as he set down his racquet bag to unlock the door. It was muffled through the wall, but Patrick heard it just fine from where he was perched on the foot of Art's bed with Tears for Fears playing on the unlabeled CD he dug through desk drawers to find. The sound of a distinctly feminine giggle made his mouth turn up at the corners in a smirk. This will be fun to tease his closest friend over until his cheeks flush pink and he has to hide his face in his shirt.

When the door swung open, the laughter died out as soon as they realized they weren't alone, but it was quickly replaced with wide smiles and warm greetings.

Patrick tried not to look her up and down so blatantly. Instead, he chuckled and said, "Art, you conveniently left out that you had a girlfriend on our last call."

To this, Art set down his bag and tackled him onto the bed, starting a minute-long wrestling match that only ended when they began to sweat from the heat and physical activity. It was then that Art remembered to have manners and introduced her. He scrambled to sit upright on the mattress and met her curious gaze.

"Y/N, this is Patrick. I'm sorry, I forgot what day he was coming."

She smiled.

"It's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you." A pause, and then she turned her attention to Art. "Do you wanna study another time? I don't wanna intrude or anything."

Before Art could open his mouth to tell her to stay, Patrick aimed one of his charming grins at her, then said, "No, please intrude. I'll just hang out. You won't even know I'm here."

The last sentence caused a disbelieving scoff to leave Art’s lips.

As of right now, as she sits on the chair in front of the desk and the boys share the bed, they have gotten halfway through the study guide they meticulously constructed after one of the two classes they share, but it grew boring once an hour and a half passed. They typically end up getting distracted and make out by now, but with Patrick here, neither of them considers that an option. So, she suggests they take a half-hour break to sit, drink, and talk to allow their brains to decompress from the constant stimulation.

He already had a few beers inside the mini fridge beneath his desk, along with a hard seltzer for her seeing that she finds the taste of beer disgusting but quite enjoys being drunk with him. Also kept in the freezer section of the fridge is a pack of ice pops she bought a few days ago when the heat wave began. They prove to be very useful right now as the midday sun bakes the building alive despite the closed curtains and blowing fans.

The CD has moved onto Nine Inch Nails, and she remains quiet to hear it over the sound of the fans as she holds a red ice pop to the side of her neck to cool herself off. Sometime along the way, both of them had stripped down to their underwear after asking her if it was alright because it was so hot. Patrick joked that he was alright with her taking her clothes off too, which she laughed at while Art playfully shoved him over it. Yet now she isn't laughing. Her small exercise shorts are as forgiving as any item of clothing could be in these circumstances, but the long-sleeve shirt she wore because it was the only clean one left is sticking to her skin.

"So, how did you and Art meet?"

Her eyes open to find Patrick glancing back and forth between them.

"It's a boring story, actually," she says. "He asked if I took notes for a class he missed, and now he's stuck with me all the time."

"No, no, okay, maybe it was boring from her perspective, but I was trying to work up the nerve to talk to her for at least a week before then. I went to one of her competitions and recognized her from class," Art explains. "She won, which wasn't surprising at all."

Although she already knew this, this is the first time he has admitted to it out loud, and her stomach flutters at the idea of him becoming so enamored with her from one glance. The popsicle is sweet on her tastebuds when she raises it to her lips and sucks with her eyes looking between them both. As she expected, Patrick shifts a little in place and looks away for reasons not at all related to how she was looking at them while sucking her popsicle.

She chuckles.

"So, you were just interested in befriending me 'cause I win a lot?"

Her tone of voice is taunting, but they know it's all in good fun. Art is quick to play along, shrugging his shoulders to feign aloofness and taking a quick swig of his beer before responding. Their eye contact grows intense in the seconds before he speaks.

"Well, there were some other contributing factors."

"Mm," Patrick hums in agreement. "I've never seen you compete, but you are really hot, so Art's right about that."

This makes her pause for a second, her gaze shifting to find Art's to see if his friend crossed any lines, but he appears strangely calm about it. What she doesn't know is that he has never had any problem sharing, at least, not with Patrick. They shared a room in boarding school, jerked off together to the same girl, and shared the court together—what was his would always be Patrick's, and what was Patrick's would always be his.

"You're flirting with me right in front of him?"

Art interjects, "I'd be shocked if he didn't."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he's standing up from the bed to get another beer. The dorm room is small, so it only takes a few strides for him to meet her where she sits before the desk and kneels down to open the mini fridge. His left hand braces itself on one of her thighs while the right swings open the fridge door only to find there is no beer left. Rather than complain, he simply grabs one of her least favorite hard seltzer flavors and gives her thigh a firm squeeze before standing up.

The bed creaks beneath his weight when he sits back down on it.

He settles into a comfortable position with his back against the wall and legs spread, balancing the seltzer can on his bent knee. Patrick sits close to him, and she finds it difficult to peel her eyes off the pair of them in their current state of undress. Her gaze mostly lingers on Patrick seeing that she has already explored every inch of Art's lean body in the plentiful amount of times they've hooked up over the past few weeks. But, that being said, she cannot resist looking at Art either. Having two beautiful men laid out before her in their underwear is a treat she never expected to indulge in today. They each have the strong, masculine figures of athletes—showing mostly in their shoulders, biceps, abdomen, and thighs.

When Patrick notices her staring, she turns her gaze to the floor to avoid the embarrassment of being caught. If he did catch her, though, he doesn't call her out for it. Not yet, at least.

With one last bite of her popsicle, she stands from the desk chair to toss it into the small trash can beside his nightstand. It isn't until she lets it go that she realizes how close she now stands to the two of them. Only a foot or so from the bed, her heart begins to hammer in her chest at the proximity.

The way she sees it, she has two options. The first would be to retreat to the desk to let her long-sleeved shirt give her heatstroke while the men get to sit in front of the oscillating fans with their shirts off, or she can strip down to her undergarments and join them on the bed. Needless to say, she opts for the latter of the two.

Y/N lets out an exaggerated groan at the heat and fans herself with her hands for the sake of appearing somewhat innocent in what she's about to do, then reaches down for the hem of her shirt with a huff.

Art and Patrick can do nothing but watch with rapt attention side by side as she pulls the fabric up her torso and over her head. The shirt ends up falling to the floor beside her feet alongside their discarded t-shirts and pants. This leaves her in her most comfortable bra—which is Art's favorite since her nipples can be seen through the mesh material—and a pair of tiny spandex shorts.

Patrick's tongue darts out to wet his lips at the sight of her—almost angelic in her beauty—and tries to burn the image into his mind to hold onto forever. Definitely going in the spank bank, he thinks to himself as his cock begins to harden in his boxers. Beside him, Art has been stunned to silence. Even though they've fucked like rabbits since the first time, he isn't sure if he'll ever get used to seeing her like this. Those shorts hug the delicate curve of her hips, as well as that lovely ass that has been sculpted from years of training as a gymnast, and all he can think of is how badly he wants to take them off.

They sit there, dumbfounded, with their mouths hanging open just enough for her to notice and suppress an arrogant smirk. But to allow herself to smirk would be to reveal her cards, and she doesn't want them to see this as anything other than her innocently trying to cool down. Truth be told, she hasn't thought this through. It's not as though she planned this as she was sitting at the desk. It's more of an impulsive, irresistible urge. And if they will tease her so blatantly with their half-naked bodies, she is entitled to do the same.

"You," she says, jutting her chin in Patrick's direction. "Scoot. I wanna sit in front of the fans too."

Underneath it all, she's thankful that she took the time to do her hair the way that makes her feel the most confident and put a little makeup on. Not that either of them is focused on her damned makeup. No, they're far too busy ogling her figure to notice anything north of her collarbones.

After a delayed second of staring, what she said seems to register within him and spark him into action. He's quick to scoot closer to the end of the bed if it means she'll be inhabiting the small space between them. 

She offers a quiet, "Thank you," and crawls onto the bed, turning around and settling into place with her back against the wall. The cool air generated by the fans blows faintly against the front of her sweat-slick chest, and she can't help but shut her eyes and hum in appreciation of it.

With her eyes shut, Art and Patrick are both scrambling to quietly conceal their growing erections. If they don't, it'll be glaringly obvious when she opens her eyes and sees a tent in their underwear on either side of her. Although the life-long friends don't speak, there's an understanding formed between the two of them. Whatever she allows them to have of her tonight, if she allows anything, they'll share nicely. Patrick knows that if anything happens, he is to assume it is a one-time thing unless she or Art expresses a desire for an arrangement of some sort to be made.

Her eyes open again a few seconds later to find them staring at her.

Breaking the silence, she asks, turning her head left to right to address each of them, "Did your mothers never tell you it's rude to stare?"

Patrick doesn't miss a beat.

"Did you know it's rude to be a tease?"

The sound of Art sucking in a deep breath meets her ears, but she doesn't look away from Patrick. Their eyes are locked, and she can see the mischief present in his. It's almost as if he dares her to do something...like he knows that she wants him just as badly as he wants her. Part of her feels guilty, feeling like she should remain loyal to Art even though they aren't exclusive, but a much more dominant part of her desires it too much to resist the temptation.

"Patrick, don't pressure her. If she doesn't want to—"

Her head turning to look at him halts him in his tracks. The look she's giving him...

Much to his shock, she was a virgin when they met a few weeks ago. He questioned her relentlessly, claiming there was no way someone as beautiful, smart, and talented as her could've gone so long without doing it, but she held firm. It was the truth, he realized after she sheepishly relayed the story of how she made out with a basketball player on Halloween and wimped out before it could go further. That first night, she was a bashful, blushing little thing. He treated her with the tenderness and reverence she deserved, first making her come with his tongue and fingers before fucking her. It was so...intimate. Her nails dug into his shoulders when he made that first, breathtaking thrust into her. Just the thought of it was enough to get him hard the next day, but he knew not to expect anything after how shy she was the previous night. Little did he know, he awakened something within her, and from then on, she would be insatiable.

He almost got whiplash from how quickly she changed from a nervous, flushed-faced girl asking him, "Am I doing this right?" when she got on top to a cock-hungry temptress ready to jump onto him at any moment. Truth be told, he found it so fucking hot. To think that he was the catalyst for this behavior was beyond comprehension. Though Art did well enough in his dating life, Patrick was the one that the girls they liked gravitated toward when they were in school together. But she was his, and he thinks, even now, that he'll always have the satisfaction of having gotten to her first no matter what happens tonight.

Y/N shifts around on the mattress so that she's sitting on the side of the bed opposite the wall, facing them with her hands on her knees and legs tucked beneath her ass. Both boys perk up a little at this, and they watch every minute movement she makes and listen to every breath she breathes with unwavering focus.

She meets Art's gaze first before doing anything. Her brows raise in question, and, in answer, he gives her a slight nod. Those pretty, cherry-stained lips of hers curve into a smirk she doesn't even bother to hide in response to this.

"Have you ever fucked the same girl before?" she asks out of pure curiosity, her tone calm and even. Her hands leave her knees to grab one of their thighs each, slowly rubbing up and down to allow her fingertips to brush the edge of their boxers. "Two guys at the same time is a first for me..."

To say that they are in a state of shock would be a gross understatement. Surprisingly, their mouths are not hanging open, and they aren't drooling at the mere thought of what she's proposing.

Somehow, Patrick finds his voice and says, "No." A second of pause, then—"Is this for real? Like you're not just fucking with us?"

The silence that follows is ripe with tension. All that can be heard is the sound of voices passing in the hallway outside of the dorm room and fans blowing on their highest setting. The hands on their thighs come to a halt at the edge of their boxers, and the softened expression on her face shifts into one of unabashed lust as she looks at Patrick.

In answer to his question, she starts to crawl over to him. Seeing that the mattress is a twin, it doesn't take too long for her to reach him and settle into place on top of him. Her hands slide up to cup his face, forcing him to only look at her when she lowers herself onto his lap. The spandex shorts hugging every inch of her figure do little to keep him from feeling the warmth of her cunt against the bulge that formed the second she took her top off.

That first brush of her lips against his is gentle, as though she has him under a trance, but it doesn't take longer than a few seconds for him to snap out of it. Patrick's hands grasp her hips first to keep her from moving away, then they slide down to knead the soft, supple flesh of her ass as he begins to kiss her back hungrily. The kiss quickly begins to descend from her lips to her jaw until he reaches the soft skin of her neck.

While he nips and sucks at the sensitive spot along the side of her neck, Y/N opens her eyes to find Art staring, unblinking, at the pornographic display before him. The sight of him alone—between his messy blonde hair, piercing eyes, and masterfully structured face—is enough to pull a breathy moan from the back of her throat. One would think that she would get used to the way he makes her feel when he looks at her like that, but she never does.

One of the arms wrapped around Patrick's neck uncurls itself to reach for Art, fingers wiggling to beckon him to her. 

He's already invading her space by the time she whispers, "C'mere, baby."

Art practically melts into the two writhing bodies he kneels beside at the casual use of a pet name from her. The word echoes in the farthest reaches of his brain until it is all he can hear on a loop. Even as she grips the back of his neck and pulls him until their mouths collide, his cock twitches from the memory of her calling him baby.

Patrick continues to suck, lick, nip, and kiss his way down her neck as she slips her tongue into Art's mouth with a groan. He leaves marks behind everywhere he goes with the thought of his friend finding them on her for the next week and a half in mind. It only makes it more thrilling for him to imagine the strange mixture of frustration and arousal that will arise within Art when he rediscovers them the next time they hook up.

Slowly, she is guided onto her back by his mouth slipping down to take one of her nipples into it and his callused hands peeling her shorts, along with her soaked cotton thong, down over the swell of her ass. The freshly washed sheets are soft against her bare back as she lays back and watches Patrick worship her breasts with both his mouth and hands. In the midst of their repositioning, Art took it upon himself to squeeze into the cramped space next to Patrick, slotting himself between him and the wall the bed is pressed against. Without a word of warning, he dips his face down to kiss the breast Patrick is cupping in his hand.

She feels hands everywhere, unsure of which belongs to who. Hands grapple for purchase on her hips, her waist, her breasts, her thighs, and her ass—always moving in search of new territory to claim. Although they have no way of coordinating their actions, they seem to move in sync with one another. The second Art's mouth lowers to kiss down her stomach, which flinches inward at the feeling, Patrick follows. If she weren't so overwhelmed with everything right now, she'd likely laugh at how eager they are to race each other down the length of her body.

Their heads bump every few seconds by the time they reach her parted thighs, but they are too focused on getting a taste of her to care at first. They work with the same synchronized harmony they once had as doubles partners, Art tugging her left leg over his shoulder while Patrick shoves her right up and out until her thigh is flush with her chest. She can't help but silently thank her parents for enrolling her in gymnastics lessons years ago. If they hadn't, this would be a tad uncomfortable.

Finally, Patrick tries to shove Art to the side a little, complaining, "Come on, man, you're with her all the time."

To her surprise, it works for the first moment or so. Art places hot, open-mouthed kisses on her inner thigh as Patrick's tongue makes a broad stroke through her, but it isn't long before he grows dissatisfied with his current role in this impromptu threesome and decides to fight back. He doesn't shove or push like Patrick had, instead, he gently nudges his head against Patrick's until they can share her.

Having Art go down on her alone always feels pleasurable, but having both of their mouths on her at the same time is another sensation entirely. It's indescribable. Spit drools from their lips as they kiss her sodden cunt, taking turns flicking the tips of their tongues against her clit for the sake of hearing her moan over and over. From where she looks down at them, they're nearly kissing each other as they eat her out, and she has to tip her head back onto her shoulders to keep them from seeing her smirk.

When she looks back down, she makes a breathy, gasping sound at the sight of them. Patrick is looking up at her with an intensity no man has ever had when looking at her, not even Art, and there is no ignoring the feeling it stirs in the pit of her abdomen.

"Fuck," she whines and pushes herself harder against their faces, but it's never enough. "More—I need more. Please."

Neither one hesitates. In fact, they seem to form a plan without speaking it aloud. As Art's free hand raises from where it palmed his cock through his boxers, Patrick's lips close around her sensitive, puffy clit and start to suck. The tips of Art's middle and ring fingers brush tentatively against her hole, then, teasingly slow, push inside until they're buried knuckle deep.

The contrast of the men as lovers—Patrick being unforgiving and passionate, Art being tender and desperate—threatens to dizzy her. But Art cannot control himself for too long. He often starts slow and gentle, his eyes flooded with genuine affection for whoever is pinned under his body, then loses his composure the farther things go. By the time he's inside of her, he's almost brutal in how hard he fucks her, and it isn't out of malice, it's out of animalistic lust.

So, as per usual, the pace Art sets to begin with shifts into something harder and faster.

Over the sounds of the fans and music playing on the CD player across the room, a symphony of panting breaths, whines, and wet noises can be heard. It wouldn't surprise any of them if the people who were talking in the hallway could hear it, but it's not like they care right now. 

When she closes her eyes and tries to fall back against the mattress, Patrick stops for a second to murmur, "Don't look away," before getting back to work. Something about the way his voice sounds forces her to submit to his demand without hesitation. There's an edge to it. An underlying promise that he will stop and leave her here to suffer if she doesn't listen, so she does. She watches with a slack-jawed expression at how they work diligently to get her off.

The combined sensations of the fingers pumping into her at a steady, rushed pace and the lips enclosed around her sensitive bud push her closer and closer to the edge of oblivion. Art slips a third finger in and licks between her sticky folds as Patrick sucks her clit relentlessly. Everything they do is motivated by a dire need to take as much of her as they can, as though they can't quite believe what's happening and want to savor it before they wake from the dream. Seeing their desperation only fuels the fire roaring to life inside of her.

They feast on her the way starving men would if presented with food—humming and groaning in satisfaction at the taste of her on their tongues. Through the haze she's fallen under as a result of the present situation, her gaze lifts from where both of their faces are smushed together between her parted thighs to find that they're both humping the mattress. It seems like they don't even realize they're doing it, which, of course, only makes it hotter for her. To think that she wields enough power over them, that she renders them so useless and needy...

Her brows pinch together at the feeling of Art's fingertips finding the sweet spot inside of her.

"Right there," she breathes out in a shaky voice, hand shooting down to grasp anything she can find for support.

It ends up being Patrick's dark hair that is weaved between her fingers and used as her lifeline, tugging nearly every time Art's fingertips find the spot inside of her that makes her throw her head back on the bed and cry out for them. If they didn't have her pinned down, her hips would be lifting to meet every thrust, but she cannot do anything other than take it. Every breath she takes turns rapid, her chest rising and falling dramatically, as the familiar feeling of her impending release grows nearer by the second.

She says, half warning and half pleading with them, "I'm"—The sentence is cut off before it can be said by a high-pitched moan that makes Patrick moan and Art whimper into her—"Please"—What she's pleading for, none of them know, herself included, but she continues to babble nonsensically anyway—"Ah!"

The hand that isn't pulling on Patrick's hair reaches down instinctively for the hand Art grips her thigh with, and she doesn't even need to ask him for it. He entwines their fingers and allows her to squeeze his hand until circulation is lost as she finally feels the wave that was building within her begin to crest.

It hits her harder than she ever knew it could. 

Everything explodes into a sensation of bliss so strong, she loses herself in it. The only thing tying her body down to the earth is the feeling of the hands on her—touching her, fingering her, caressing her, and holding her hand—yet even that is not enough to keep her from floating away into another world entirely for the first few seconds of her orgasm. The muscles in her legs, so exhausted from being forced into a position like this, shake violently with every wave of pleasure rushing through her, and her walls clamp down around the fingers thrusting into her.

If she could live forever in these fifteen seconds, she would, but it soon becomes obvious to her that there's no chance of that happening. Gradually, the intense sensation starts to recede like the tides, and they are both there to help her ride it out to the very end. But once it fully fades, she wriggles beneath them in sensitivity.

Using the hand wrapped up in his hair, Y/N pulls Patrick's mouth away from her clit with a strength he didn't know to expect despite her obvious athletic background, and when Art notices this, he too slows the rhythmic pumping of his fingers inside of her throbbing heat to a stop. Wary of hurting her, he waits another five seconds before slowly pulling them out.

She has gone boneless where she lays on her back with her eyes shut and chest heaving for air.

Knowing she cannot see them, Patrick cuts his best friend a look and jerks his chin in her direction in a silent urging to check on her. Both men start to move at the same time, crawling over her until they reach her face. While Patrick lies beside her and trails his hand up and down her naked, sweat-soaked torso to occupy himself in the time it takes her to recover, Art licks her arousal from his fingers before grabbing her by the chin.

He asks with a teasing inflection, "You still with us?"

Her eyes slowly open to find them both staring at her, and she cannot help the slight smile that comes to her face at this.

"You guys almost killed me," she murmurs. "I think my vision got spotty for a second there."

They allow her another moment to catch her breath and recuperate in the aftermath of what she endured. She takes turns looking at them as she pants for air, laying with her arms above her head and thighs squeezed together due to her current state of sensitivity.

Patrick is the first to break the silence.

"We're not done with you," he says softly, the hand on her chest climbing up until it cradles the side of her neck. "But you know that, don't you?"

"I'd be a little bummed if you were," she replies.

Her head is whipping around at the sound of Art's voice.

"Only a little?"

She pushes herself up from where she's lying supine on the bed, which is now a mess of tangled sheets and sweat, to smack him on the arm. It's all in good fun, of course, and Art is hardly hurt by the playful blow she landed on him. Giggles escape her mouth as they begin to play fight, swatting and trying to pin one another down with Patrick there to spectate. He encourages Y/N to fight dirty, telling her where to strike, which causes Art to curse under his breath and declare him a traitor.

It ultimately ends with her on top, her legs straddling his hips and hands pinning his wrists to the bed. Based on the faraway, longing gleam in his eyes as he looks up at her, Patrick can tell immediately that she only won because Art allowed her to. Because there is something about being pinned to the bed underneath her that turns him on. And she knows it. It's easy to tell by how his erection presses up against her naked center through the fabric of his boxers.

Suddenly, she comes up onto her knees and moves back until she's hovering over his thighs. Her next words are a soft-spoked explanation for why she's reaching for the waistband of his boxers.

"Too much clothes."

But, to her surprise, another pair of hands comes to her aid in shimmying Art's underwear down his hips and legs. The way Patrick sees it, the sooner he helps her get them off, the sooner she'll take his off. And he isn't wrong. As soon as they get the boxers free from Art's body, the garment is tossed to the side without a care in the world. Neither of them looks to see where they landed, they're far too busy leaning in to kiss each other than keep track of their discarded clothing.

Her left hand is wrapped around Art's cock, pumping at a torturously slow pace, as she pulls away from Patrick with a string of saliva connecting their lips.

"Take those off," she says with a pointed look at his crotch.

To say he is sent scrambling to take off his underwear at her command would be an understatement. If this scenario itself wasn't hot enough to make her cunt throb with a desperate need to be fucked, she'd be giggling at his eagerness. But it's hard to find anything funny when she's faced with Patrick standing, one foot on the floor and his other leg braced against the bed at the knee, with nothing to conceal him from her anymore.

It must inflate his ego to heights it has never reached before to see her tongue dart out to wet her lips at the sight of him. The hand stroking Art falters as she admires Patrick's cock. It's about an inch longer than Art's yet equal in girth, curving up a little toward his hair-speckled, defined abdomen. A drop of precome has dripped from his tip, and she has to dip her head forward to get a quick taste. Those pretty lips wrap around him, not pushing down to take the rest of his shaft into her mouth but remaining where she is, flicking her tongue against the slit where the drops of sticky, pearlescent fluid secrete.

A taste is all she allows herself, though.

Her lips pull off of him with a soft popping sound, and she makes sure to maintain eye contact with him as she licks a drop of pre-come off of her top lip.

She turns to look at Art, then Patrick, then back at Art, asking, "How do you want me?"

Seeing that she was a virgin before she started seeing Art, she figures she isn't qualified to direct this in a way that'll be comfortable for everyone involved. No, if she had to bet, Patrick has the most experience between the three of them—with Art following closely behind—and he will have no problem taking control from here based on how he has acted thus far.

To their surprise, it's Art who answers first. 

Patrick was still in a faraway daze from having her mouth around his cock only to be kicked when he was down by the question she asked. How do you want me? God, it's like she's trying to kill them.

"On my lap."

Art pushes himself up from the mattress and repositions so he sits on his knees in front of them, reaching for her hips to pull her closer without a second of hesitation. Her arms instantly reach for his shoulders to steady herself as she maneuvers into the exact position he had in mind. Buried beneath the music that has become white noise to them and the fans running on their highest setting, he thinks he hears her breath hitch in her throat once she's straddling his lap, the tip of his cock nudging against her clit.

Absentmindedly, she starts to grind against him, coating him in the slick arousal that seeps from her, but it's slow. A tease compared to what's coming next.

"Patrick," he says, his voice unwavering despite the excitement that makes his stomach churn. His hand slides down from her neck, caressing her breast as it passes by at a lazy speed, until he takes hold of himself and pumps a few times—as if he isn't hard as a fucking rock already. Over her shoulder, he meets his friend's intense stare. "If you wanna fuck her, you should probably get on the bed."

And while he would usually fire back something equally witty or taunting, Patrick cannot manage to do anything but nod. There's something about seeing Art this way that subdues him. He would like to think that the sole reason he's standing naked in front of his best friend is because there's a girl involved, but that isn't true. Not completely. Although Art would never admit to himself that he feels the same way, there's something familiar about this. Comfortable. Right.

The mattress dips with Patrick's shifting weight, squeaking a little beneath his knees until he settles into place behind her. His chest presses against her back, and his hand reaches up to grab her jaw, guiding her head to tilt so he can kiss her neck while Art lines himself up with her. She feels Patrick's cock pressing against her ass as the broad tip of Art's sinks inside of her.

Having Patrick's face buried in her neck, her shoulder, and back to her neck again provided her and Art a rare second of private intimacy. Her eyes, glazed over with lust, lock into his and refuse to look away. The intensity present in his gaze does not frighten her. If anything, it sends a rush of adrenaline through her body, and she takes a second to admire his soft, wide eyes. She's never mentioned it aloud before, but she has always been fascinated with making eye contact with him due to his right eye. Half of the iris is a striking, clear shade of blue while the other is a warm brown hue.

"Fuck," he says under his breath at the feeling of her squeezing down around him, her tight cunt resisting a little until she relaxes and sinks down until there's nothing left to take.

There's nothing that compares to the feeling of the first thrust he makes.

Every time, it makes her bite her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. To feel him so deep is almost undoing in itself. Then she feels another hand slide between her legs, and her mind goes utterly blank. Everything outside of this room falls away the second Patrick starts to rub her clit in gentle, languid circles to help her adjust to the stretch of Art inside of her. Patrick's lips lavish every accessible inch of her bare skin with kisses as his friend, with a hand on each of her hips, starts to lift her up and down at an unhurried pace.

Their noses and lips brush without completely touching. When she pushes her face closer to Art's, hoping to lock lips with him, he pulls away for the sake of seeing her grow hot in the face from embarrassment. The mouth worshipping the back of her neck curves up into a smirk in reaction to the games Art plays with her. Who knew he's just as fun in bed as he is out of it? Certainly not Patrick.

She mutters, voice breathy and weak, "Feels so good..."

"Yeah?" Patrick murmurs into her skin and presses his fingers hard against her clit. "Tell me how he feels."

If he could see her the way Art can right now, he'd have to suppress a chuckle at how her brows pinch together at the command. Regardless of her sudden shyness, the words he says only make her ride Art harder. Over her shoulder, Patrick searches for those pale blue eyes only to find them staring through him already. Every smooth rocking motion of her hips pushes her ass against his neglected erection, providing him with a brushing touch before pivoting away again.

"He feels"—she says, chest rising and falling faster—"He's so hard." Her sentences are hardly coherent. "Perfect—mmm—fucking me so deep." One of her hands reaches to tug his down to press it against the southernmost part of her abdomen. "Feel."

With her palm molded over the back of his hand and forcing him to push down on her belly, Patrick can hardly keep from groaning at the subtle bulge of Art's cock moving in and out of her. It's strangely intimate for the three of them to share this experience, but for him to feel every thrust through her is more than he anticipated.

Unable to fight what instinct drives him to, Patrick shifts his hips until the angle of her grinding against him allows his tip to brush up against the hole she and Art have yet to touch. He doesn't do anything more, not without her asking for it, but it's clear to both Art and Y/N that he desperately wants to. All of this physical affection shared between the two of them has made Patrick needy and jealous, so she decides to grant him mercy.

She reaches behind herself blindly to guide him elsewhere, nudging him against the hole Art is already filling. It takes them a couple of seconds to understand what she means in doing this, but, once it clicks, they start to go a little crazy. For the moment, she has stopped bouncing on Art's cock for the sake of allowing Patrick to push in beside him, and he has to surge forward to kiss her. If he doesn't distract himself with a kiss, he'll be too tempted to move.

As Art kisses her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth and caressing her own, Patrick's hand wraps around her throat for leverage with his teeth nipping at her earlobe. His hand wraps around where hers grips his cock to guide it to her entrance, and with his help, they manage to squeeze the tip in.

Her jaw drops at the overwhelming sensation, and the sloppy kiss is interrupted when her head rolls back onto Patrick's shoulder. Art doesn't seem to care, though. Now that her head is tipped back, her neck is exposed for him to mark, and he takes advantage of the opportunity as soon as it presents itself. His lips brush against Patrick's fingers a few times as he kisses her fervently, sucking hard on the delicate skin that has already been bruised by his dear friend.

"You're beautiful," Art whispers into her neck between kisses. "So, so beautiful."

Taking it slow for her sake, Patrick has to force himself into her inch by inch, stretching her little cunt to take far more than she's accustomed to. But, as hard as it is, it works. After another few moments of him pushing in and pausing to let her adjust, he finally bottoms out with his cock flush against Art's. Her walls clamp down around them tightly. They both share a nervous look at this, wondering if they'll manage to last longer than thirty seconds if it already feels this good.

Slowly, she raises her head from where it slumped against Patrick's shoulder and meets Art's intense stare with one of her own. His hand raises to cup the side of her face, his fingers grazing against Patrick's, and he brushes his thumb over her kiss-swollen bottom lip. Every breath taken between the three of them is labored.

Pulling her lip down with his thumb, he asks, "Feeling okay?"

A half-second later, Patrick chimes in.

"If it's too much, you have to tell us."

Not a question, not a request, but a demand. The way he said it left no room for debate, so she nods in compliance and responds with an eagerness that neither man can miss, "M'fine, please, just fuck me..."

Patrick does not need to be told twice.

Having been sidelined for too long and forced to watch them fuck without him, he pulls out slowly, then cants his hips back against her ass with a force that takes her breath away. Amidst this, Art cannot do anything but let his face fall forward into her chest and whine in ecstasy. Just the movement of Patrick's cock rubbing against his with every thrust renders him useless. He knew it would feel better than any sex he'd had before, but this...He'll likely spend the rest of his life chasing the hedonism they are experiencing tonight.

One of her arms reaches behind her to grab Patrick's hip and dig her nails in hard while the other closes around Art's neck to pull both of them as close as can be. And now that he has forced himself back from the edge of a premature release, Art begins to move too, searching for a rhythm that feels right. Soon enough, he manages to find it. Both of their heads lift to look at each other, faces inches apart with their chins pressing on her shoulder, and they work with the same synchronicity they had while eating her out not even fifteen minutes ago.

She turns her head to the side to watch their stare-down as they rut into her like feral animals—utterly insatiable and overcome by their baser instincts. And it's only now that it occurs to her that, underneath it all, they want each other as desperately and pathetically as they want her. Patrick's gaze relentlessly bounces back and forth between Art's eyes and lips, and it makes her smirk to herself. The pleasure of fucking her as one, their pulsing cocks rubbing together in the warm walls of her cunt, has lowered their inhibitions, and the idea of being intimate with one another isn't as daunting as it would be if they were fully aware.

Leaning in to brush her cherry-flavored lips against Art's ear, she whispers, "I want you to kiss him."

The arm looped around the back of his neck pulls tighter in encouragement, bringing his body so close to hers that she can feel his ribs expanding with every breath. His only reaction to her request is a quick glance at her face once she pulls away from his ear with a sensuous lick as a parting gift. It's almost as though he doesn't believe what she's saying, but the reassuring expression she wears tells him that it is real. She truly wants him to see him kiss his best friend, not only for their enjoyment but hers as well.

One second, he's looking at her, and the next, he's slotting his lips against Patrick's with a passion previously only reserved for her. Their hands both grapple for purchase on her sweat-slick body, Art aggressively kneading her breasts and Patrick squeezing her hips for dear life, as they moan into each other's mouths.

As they kiss each other hungrily, Y/N has nothing left to do but bask in the tension swelling inside of her. There's something about how wrong this situation feels to her that makes it so much more arousing. Girls are always raised with the idea that promiscuity lessens their value, and she was not an exception. Having been raised in a family of devout believers, she hadn't kissed a boy until she was seventeen years old. The next person she kissed was Art, and in the time since their first kiss, he has thoroughly corrupted her.

And even as distracted as he is by the all-consuming, wet kiss he's engaged in, Art feels her cunt start to squeeze around their cocks and immediately drops one of the hands on her breasts between her splayed thighs. His finger rubs in tight circles on her clit in hopes that she will reach her end before he and Patrick come pathetically soon.

Her body jerks where it's trapped between them when his fingers make contact, pulling their focus away from each other for the first time since their lips touched. Patrick reaches up to hold her neck in one hand and forces her face to the side so both of them can look at every subtle expression she makes. 

"Don't stop," she pleads, eyes glazed over. "M'so close, Art"—Every merciless thrust elicits a high-pitched whine from her—"Patrick, please!"

The body trapped between them has gone boneless and twitchy, utterly useless at holding herself up or aiding them in any way. But they wear it like a badge of honor. With her face falling forward into Art's neck, she loses her grasp on all that is around her and lets them prop her up to fuck her like a toy existing solely for their gratification.

With one hand cradling the back of her head and the other between her thighs, still dutifully rubbing her clit, Art asks under his breath, "Isn't she fucking perfect?"

Although it was a question meant for Patrick, she can't help how she moans and clenches her walls around them when she hears it. Panting breaths from the three of them flood the sweltering dorm room, but they are too far gone to notice or care how much sweat drips off of their bodies onto one another. It's almost hard to get a firm grip on her as a result of it, but they manage to keep her in place by smushing their bodies as close as physically possible on both sides of her.

Patrick bucks his hips up into her with a recklessness that gives away how close he is to his climax.

He says, "Oh, God, yeah." The hand still collaring her delicate neck squeezes just enough to take her breath away for a second. However, once he released his hold on her, that hand moved to wrap itself up the roots of her hair. "Best pussy I've ever had. So fucking tight, it's like she wants us to come inside her." A pause, then, "Is that what you want?"

A second passes of silence from her, and he sharply tugs back on her hair until her face is no longer hidden in Art's neck. This allows them to drink in the sight of her—face twisted up in pleasure and mouth gaping open.

He asks again, "Is that what you want?"

Her response is immediate.

"Yes, yes, yes," she murmurs incoherently and takes quick turns to look between their faces. If the expressions they wear are any indication, it won't be long before her wish is fulfilled. "I'm—mmm-gonna come! I need you to fill me up, please, please!"

To this, Art rubs her clit faster while maintaining eye contact with her and finally lets go of whatever remaining scraps of self-control he has left. Knowing how close she is pushes them closer themselves, and they start to pound her hard. Hard enough that even they, as soon-to-be professional athletes, have difficulty sustaining this intense degree of exertion.

The arm that she looped around his shoulders is still there, but now her hand is sliding down from the back of Art's neck to explore the toned musculature of his upper back. Under her searching palm, she can feel his muscles contracting and relaxing beneath his pale skin.

To both her and Art's surprise, the world begins to shift in their peripheral vision until he falls flat against the mattress on his back with his length still sheathed inside of her. It takes a second for their brains to catch up with what happened and deem Patrick responsible for the position change. He laid his hands flat on her back and pushed with just the right amount of force to pin Art to the mattress beneath them.

Art says, breathless, "I can feel you squeezing us, baby, just let go."

Hearing those words sets fire to her blood, and that, paired with the toe-curling sensation of them pressing deep inside of her, hitting that spot over and over and over, is what tips her over the edge.

Patrick keeps pulling on her hair to force her head up so that they can feel and watch her come, and what a beautiful sight it is. Art, the lucky bastard, is face to face with her as she tenses up with the onslaught of her climax. But he can see the side of her pretty, flushed face and drink up every little sound she makes, so he doesn't feel left out in any way. No, he is experiencing this right beside Art. They're both trapped inside of her, pumping into her throbbing heat and letting themselves be swept away into oblivion by the feeling of her coming undone.

She digs her nails into Art's skin hard enough to hurt as she whines and writhes between them with each pulse of pleasure that runs through her, and it isn't until she's starting to come down, riding out the high, that she feels them spill into her at the same time. Every sensation attached to it prolongs her orgasm—the throbbing, the spreading warmth, and the dying undulations of their hips that grind their cocks together within her. And beyond the physicality of the act, just knowing that they're filling her to the brim with their come makes her head spin from how fucking hot she finds it.

It isn't long before their thrusts slow into a sensuous grinding as they come down from it together, then come to a full stop to keep from overstimulating themselves. They both are starting to go soft, panting and leaning against her limp body in exhaustion, and know they wouldn't be able to continue even if they wanted to.

Her head is laid on Art’s shoulder with Patrick’s nose nuzzling her neck. There's nothing they can do except remain still and try to recover from the euphoria that has rendered them useless, so that is precisely what they do. With their bodies nearly melting together from the heat, the three of them hold onto each other for support until they manage to return to full consciousness after what they went through.

It isn't until another couple of moments have elapsed that Patrick and Art start murmuring to one another while she remains slumped between them. A second later, both pairs of hands are squeezing her hips; lifting her off of their softening cocks, slowly, gently, and minding her sensitivity.

The three of them collapse side by side on the twin bed, bodies squeezed together like sardines, and she finally comes back down from the clouds her head floated into at the feeling of them touching her. It isn't sexual. No, they wouldn't dream of putting her through anything more than she could handle right now. Both touches are tender and featherlight—Art's hand molds over her breast simply to cup it as they cuddle while Patrick brings her hand up from her side to brush a kiss over her knuckles.

The silence continues to stretch on, then—

"We're definitely gonna have to do that again," she says, turning her head to look at each of them before laying her cheek against Art's shoulder. "That is, if don't mind sharing me."

His gaze softens, the hand cupping her breast ghosting up over her skin until it finds her and Patrick's entwined hands.

"I don't mind one bit."

-

Thank you for reading this! I probably won’t write any more Challengers fics but I saw the movie like five times in theaters and needed to crank this out to satisfy the part of me that is obsessed with the hotel scene. I would really appreciate a comment to let me know what you thought if you’re open to that 🫶🏻 The oral part of this fic was inspired by these two (1) (2) I read, so def give them a read cause they're great!

[its-avalon-08]

Could you write a story where the reader is an F1 reporter who gets along well with everyone? She’s a close friend, and everyone considers her like a “sister” (or maybe even more for some… I don’t know, let me be delulu here!) and when she gets pregnant, they all become super protective and take extra care of her. For example, if she’s struggling with the heat, they make sure she’s comfortable. Thank you!

golden child of the paddock (all drivers)

✦ pairing - all drivers x female!reader (platonic), carlos sainz x female!driver (non platonic)

✦ genre - protective drivers, romance

The first time Y/N stepped into the F1 paddock as a young, starry-eyed reporter, she felt a blend of excitement and nerves. She was new to the sport, young, and a little out of her depth, but she knew her passion for racing and her natural curiosity would be enough to keep her going. Still, when she looked around at the towering motorhomes, the thrumming of engines, and the throng of seasoned journalists, it was hard not to feel like she was in over her head.

"First day on the job?" a voice came from her side. She turned to see none other than Daniel Ricciardo, grinning with that trademark mischievous smile. He’d noticed her as she was nervously adjusting her press badge.

"Uh, yeah," she admitted, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "Guess it's pretty obvious."

Daniel laughed and gave her a friendly nudge. "You’ll be fine. Just stick around us drivers; we’re way more fun than those old journos anyway."

Just then, a few other drivers came over, drawn by the new face in the crowd. Lando Norris was quick to introduce himself, already full of playful questions.

"So, Y/N, are you here to keep an eye on me?" he teased, giving her a wink. "Because, let’s be honest, I’m the only interesting one on the grid."

"Right," Y/N said, unable to help the laugh that escaped. "I’ll try to keep my focus on you, Lando."

Max Verstappen raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "Good luck with that. But hey, if you ever want the real story, you know who to ask."

Y/N quickly felt herself relaxing as the drivers bantered with her, making her feel more at home. Soon, the entire paddock was buzzing with news of the young, friendly reporter. And the drivers? Well, they seemed determined to keep her close.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N found herself almost part of the F1 family. She’d interview the drivers in the press pen, and somehow, every single one of them found a way to add a bit of personal advice or a subtle check-in.

"Did you eat today?" Lewis Hamilton asked her once, holding out an extra protein bar during a post-practice interview.

"Oh, I… yeah, I grabbed something earlier," she stammered, a little caught off guard.

He nodded, handing her the bar anyway. "You’re going to need the energy. Trust me. This job doesn’t slow down."

Even Sebastian Vettel would occasionally pause to check in on her. Once, he found her frowning at her notes during a practice session. "Don’t worry too much about getting every detail perfect, Y/N," he said kindly. "You’re doing great. Just be yourself—that’s what people connect with."

"Thanks, Seb," she said, feeling a bit of relief wash over her. "I guess I’m just… I don’t want to mess up."

Seb gave her a reassuring smile. "You won’t. Just remember, we’re all here to help if you need it."

Then, there was Carlos Sainz. Unlike the others, his way of protecting her was a bit more… personal. The first time she interviewed him, he was warm and polite, but as the weeks passed, his demeanor shifted ever so slightly. He’d always look at her with this glint in his eye, his smile lingering a second longer than necessary.

"Amor," he greeted her one morning, his Spanish accent adding a warmth to the word that made her cheeks heat up. "You’re looking stressed. Are they working you too hard?"

She blinked, feeling a little flustered. "Carlos, I’m fine, really. Just part of the job."

Carlos tilted his head, giving her a small, teasing smile. "Maybe. But if you need a break, you let me know, sí? Can’t have you running around too much."

The way he looked at her, the gentle tone of his voice, and the pet names—amor, cariño—all of it made her feel a little thrill each time they spoke.

As the season continued, it became clear to everyone in the paddock that Y/N was something special. Not just another reporter but someone who cared about them, respected them, and brought a certain brightness with her wherever she went. And as they got closer, the drivers each took on their own version of ‘big brother’ with her.

One afternoon, she was struggling with some heavy equipment when Pierre Gasly spotted her and practically sprinted over.

"Whoa, whoa, no way, Y/N. We’re not doing this," he said, taking the bag off her shoulder. "You’re not carrying anything if we’re around, okay?"

"Pierre, I can handle it, seriously," she tried to argue, but Pierre just shook his head.

"Not happening. You’re stuck with all of us now, so get used to it."

She had barely gotten over Pierre’s chivalrous intervention when she felt someone tap her shoulder. Turning around, she found Charles Leclerc standing with a concerned frown.

"Y/N, I saw you trip on the stairs earlier. You didn’t hurt yourself, right?"

She laughed, brushing it off. "I’m fine, Charles. Just a little stumble."

He crossed his arms, clearly not convinced. "Alright, well, just… watch your step, okay?"

Everywhere she went, there seemed to be a driver looking out for her. They’d bring her water bottles when it was hot, extra snacks when she looked tired, and Carlos, of course, was always there to check on her, calling her mi vida and making sure she never felt alone.

One evening, after a particularly long day, Carlos found her sitting on a low wall by the track, staring out over the circuit, lost in thought.

"Mind if I join you, cariño?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Not at all," she smiled as he sat beside her.

They sat in companionable silence for a while before Carlos spoke. "You know, everyone here thinks of you as a sister."

Y/N laughed. "Yeah, I’ve noticed. I can’t even carry my own things anymore!"

Carlos chuckled, his fingers brushing her arm. "It’s because we care about you. And some of us…" He paused, his gaze turning serious. "Some of us more than others."

Her heart skipped a beat as she looked at him. "Carlos…"

He gave her a shy smile, something rare for the usually confident driver. "I just want you to know, Y/N. You’re not alone here."

She nodded, a soft blush spreading across her cheeks. "I know. Thanks, Carlos."

Just then, Max passed by, smirking. "Hey, Carlos, not hogging Y/N, are we?"

Carlos shot him a look. "Can’t a man have a moment, Max?"

Max grinned, winking at Y/N. "Don’t worry, Y/N. If he’s bothering you, just let us know."

As Max walked off, Carlos rolled his eyes, but his hand found hers, squeezing gently. "They’ll never leave you alone now, mi amor. Better get used to us all."

Y/N smiled, looking out over the track, feeling for the first time that she truly belonged. Surrounded by a family of drivers, each one ready to support, protect, and care for her, she knew this would be the beginning of something wonderful.

--

It was the last night of the race weekend, and the paddock was almost deserted. Only a few lights remained on, casting a soft glow over the empty garages and tents. Y/N lingered by the trackside, her heart racing in her chest. She had made up her mind—she couldn’t keep pretending she didn’t feel anything for Carlos. But she didn’t think she’d be standing here, ready to confess her feelings in such a big way.

"You got this, Y/N," Lando said, giving her a little nudge of encouragement. The rest of the drivers had banded together, helping her plot the perfect confession for the man who had her heart.

"But what if he… I don’t know, laughs?" Y/N wrung her hands nervously, feeling her cheeks flush. "What if he doesn’t feel the same way?"

"Then he’s an idiot," Pierre chimed in with a grin, his arm around her shoulder. "But trust me, he’s not that dumb. I mean, he calls you cariño every day. I’m pretty sure he’s already halfway in love with you."

Sebastian, who had come along to witness the moment, chuckled. "You’ve grown up so fast, Y/N. Look at you—confessing your feelings like a true professional."

"Just… be yourself," Charles added, giving her an encouraging smile. "Carlos would be lucky to have you."

"Really?" she whispered, looking at her friends with wide eyes. They all nodded emphatically, giving her the strength she needed to take the leap.

As she waited, Y/N glanced back at her team of ‘brothers,’ who were hiding in the shadows with poorly concealed excitement. George and Alex were practically bouncing on their toes, and even Max was grinning.

Finally, she saw Carlos walking towards her, his hair still a little messy from the day, his eyes bright despite the late hour. "Y/N?" he asked, his brows raised in surprise. "What’s going on?"

She took a deep breath, willing herself not to lose her nerve. "Carlos, there’s something I need to tell you. And, um… please just listen, okay? Don’t say anything until I’m finished."

Carlos’s smile softened as he nodded. "Of course, mi vida."

"Right, okay…" She took another breath, staring at the ground, feeling her heart pounding against her ribs. "So, ever since I started here, you’ve… you’ve been one of the best parts of my job. The way you tease me, how you’re always looking out for me, calling me all those sweet names…" She laughed, slightly embarrassed. "At first, I thought it was just you being nice. But then… I realized it’s more than that for me. I… I really like you, Carlos. A lot."

There was a soft gasp from somewhere behind her, probably Lando, but Y/N kept her eyes on Carlos, who looked utterly stunned.

"I just couldn’t go on pretending I didn’t feel this way," she continued, her voice trembling. "And if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I just… I needed you to know."

Carlos took a step closer, his gaze intense, and she could see a flicker of emotion in his eyes that made her heart swell. "Y/N," he murmured, reaching for her hands. "You have no idea how much I wanted to hear you say that. I was so sure… so sure you only saw me as a friend."

Her cheeks flushed a deep red. "Carlos, I’ve had the biggest crush on you for months. You call me cariño, amor—it’s impossible not to fall for you."

He laughed softly, pulling her closer. "Well, in that case, let me say it properly." His voice softened, his gaze never leaving hers. "Te quiero, Y/N. I want you, too."

A mix of squeals and cheers erupted from the shadows as the other drivers stepped out, clapping and wiping away mock tears.

"Finally!" Daniel shouted, throwing his hands up dramatically. "Our little Y/N is all grown up!"

George pretended to dab at his eyes. "I’m not crying… it’s just… allergies."

Pierre gave her an affectionate grin, giving Carlos a nod of approval. "You better take care of her, Sainz."

Carlos laughed, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling her into his side. "Don’t worry. I’ll treat her like the queen she deserves to be."

Max crossed his arms, his smile warm. "Good answer, mate. We’ve been waiting for this moment forever."

Y/N looked around at her friends, her cheeks sore from smiling. "Thank you, all of you. I couldn’t have done it without you."

Sebastian raised a pretend glass, grinning. "To Y/N and Carlos. And to all the big brothers who made this night possible."

Lando cleared his throat, looking almost sentimental as he pulled her into a quick hug. "We’re really happy for you, Y/N. But remember, if Carlos gives you any trouble, we’ll be right here."

Carlos chuckled, looking down at her with a playful smirk. "I think I have more to worry about than you do, cariño. With all these guys watching out for you, I’ll have to be on my best behavior."

"And that," Y/N said, squeezing his hand, "is exactly how I want it."

Surrounded by her friends—her family—she felt an overwhelming wave of happiness wash over her. As she looked up at Carlos, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the warmth of his gaze and the knowledge that she was exactly where she belonged.

--

A few years down the road, Y/N had cemented her place as the paddock’s heart and soul. Fans adored her interviews, and the teams always lit up when she was around. Being married to Carlos only added to the love everyone felt for her, and for Carlos, it made him proud—and fiercely protective.

The first few months of her pregnancy, however, had been kept tightly under wraps. Only she and Carlos knew, and they were still basking in the news in secret. But now, as she tried to hide her growing morning sickness and Carlos’s over-attentive concern, things were getting harder to keep quiet.

One morning in the paddock, Max Verstappen happened to pass by and saw Y/N doubled over, looking pale as she sat on a crate outside the Red Bull garage.

"Hey, Y/N, you okay?" Max asked, concerned, immediately handing her his water bottle. "You don’t look too great."

Y/N tried to wave him off with a weak smile. "Oh, it’s nothing, Max, I just… I think it was something I ate."

"Something you ate?" he repeated, narrowing his eyes. "You’ve been saying that a lot lately."

"Just bad luck, I guess," she said, but the nausea hit her again, and she had to lean over to steady herself.

Max’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped as he pieced it together. "No way. No way. Y/N—are you…"

Y/N’s face flushed, but she couldn’t deny it, her weak smile giving her away.

"Oh my god." Max’s mouth fell open as he processed it. "Carlos got you pregnant?!"

“Shh!” Y/N whispered, glancing around in a panic. "Max, keep it down! We’re not telling people yet!"

Max clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes filling with tears. "Oh my god. Y/N, you’re pregnant." He blinked rapidly, his lips quivering as he tried to hold it together. "You’re gonna have a little Sainz?"

She bit her lip and nodded, smiling softly. “Yes. But you can’t tell anyone yet.”

Max was silent for a moment, his eyes shimmering. Then he let out a choked laugh and pulled her into a gentle hug, whispering, “I’m so happy for you. You’re gonna be the best mom, Y/N. I can already see it.”

Y/N laughed as he let her go, but not before he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Stop crying, Max,” she teased. “You’re making me want to cry, too!”

“I can’t help it,” he sniffled, looking sheepish. “This is huge! And now I have to protect you and the baby?”

“You don’t have to,” she laughed, but Max was already shaking his head.

“No, no, you don’t understand. I’m not letting you lift a finger,” he said, his face suddenly serious. “And I’m making sure Carlos does the same. You’ll have every single driver looking out for you.”

Just then, Carlos approached, his brow furrowing as he saw Max wiping at his eyes. “Max, what’s going on?”

Max pointed a stern finger at Carlos. “You, Sainz, have one job. You better take care of her and the little one. Or else…”

Carlos raised his hands, amused but wary. “I am taking care of her, Verstappen. Trust me.”

“No, not enough!” Max argued, his voice almost panicked. “She was just sitting here, pale as a ghost, and you weren’t even around!”

Y/N stifled a laugh, but Carlos just smirked, nodding in understanding. “Alright, alright, I’ll keep an even closer eye on her. Promise.”

Max softened a bit, but he wasn’t letting up. “Good. Because if anything happens to Y/N or the baby, anything, you’re answering to me. And Lando, and Pierre, and basically every guy in this paddock who cares about her.”

“Max, I think Carlos knows what he’s doing,” Y/N said, a smile playing on her lips.

Max looked between them, then grinned, his face softening. “Fine, but I’m still watching you both.” He took a deep breath, then pulled her into another hug. “I’m so, so happy for you, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Max,” she whispered, hugging him back. “I think we’ll need you and the others looking out for us.”

Carlos wrapped an arm around her shoulder, giving Max a nod of gratitude. “Gracias, amigo. She’ll have all the protection she needs.”

“Good.” Max wiped his eyes one last time, giving them both a fierce nod. “Because we’re all family. And now… we’re growing.”

--

The Singapore Grand Prix was notorious for its blistering heat, and this year was no exception. The sweltering air clung to everyone, and for Y/N, who was visibly and heavily pregnant, it was nearly unbearable. But duty called, and the FIA insisted that she continue her scheduled interviews.

As she was setting up for another interview, the heat making her dizzy, she heard a familiar voice behind her. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” Lewis Hamilton approached her with a look of disbelief, glancing at her with concern. “You should be sitting in an air-conditioned room right now, not out here in this heat.”

“Lewis, it’s fine,” she said with a weak smile, though she was struggling. “It’s just a few interviews.”

Before he could respond, Max and Oscar joined them, both looking equally shocked.

“Are they out of their minds?” Max muttered, his face turning red with anger. “You shouldn’t be out here like this!”

“Seriously, Y/N,” Oscar added, frowning. “This isn’t safe. You’re not a machine.”

Y/N tried to brush them off, but she felt another wave of dizziness hit her. She steadied herself, but Charles had already noticed, his eyes narrowing. “That’s it,” he said firmly. “This is ridiculous. They can’t make you do this.”

“It’s okay, really—” she began, but the drivers were not having it.

Lewis crossed his arms, looking around with a sharp glare. “Who do we need to talk to? This isn’t happening, not today.”

As if on cue, a member of the FIA walked over, clipboard in hand. “Y/N, are we ready for the next interview?”

Max stepped in front of her before she could answer, his voice low and menacing. “She’s not doing any more interviews. Send someone else.”

The official frowned, clearly taken aback. “Excuse me? This is her job—”

“Yeah, and her job shouldn’t put her or her baby in danger,” Charles interjected angrily. “She’s done for the day.”

Oscar nodded in agreement. “Get someone else. This isn’t up for discussion.”

The FIA official looked bewildered, glancing at Y/N, but Lewis shot him a glare that would have stopped anyone in their tracks. “You have plenty of other reporters. Don’t make us get security involved.”

Seeing no way around it, the official nodded reluctantly. “Fine. She can go. But this will be reported.”

The drivers didn’t care; they were already surrounding Y/N protectively, guiding her towards the paddock lounge.

“Thank you, guys,” she murmured, touched by their concern. “But I can handle this, really—”

“No way,” Max cut her off, shaking his head. “Carlos would kill us if we let you stay out there in this heat.”

As they led her to the lounge, Carlos appeared, having just gotten word of what happened. His expression was a mix of relief and anger as he approached the group. “Qué demonios? Y/N, why didn’t you call me?”

Y/N shrugged, looking sheepish. “I didn’t want to bother you…”

Carlos looked ready to explode, turning to the FIA official who had followed them, probably to try and salvage the situation. “You made her work out there, in this heat, while she’s pregnant? Are you insane?”

The official held up his hands defensively. “We were just following standard protocol—”

“To hell with your protocol!” Carlos shouted, his face flushed with anger. “She’s carrying our child, and you’re risking her health for some interviews?”

“Mr. Sainz, please calm down—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Carlos snapped, switching to rapid Spanish that the official clearly didn’t understand, though the tone left no doubts about what he was saying. “This is unacceptable. Inaceptable!”

“Carlos, you’re going to get fined,” Lewis warned quietly, though he was smirking a little, clearly pleased to see someone giving the FIA a piece of their mind.

“Fine me, I don’t care,” Carlos shot back. “It’ll be worth every cent if it means they treat her properly.”

The official quickly left, muttering something about reporting this to higher-ups, but the drivers didn’t care. They were all clustered around Y/N, making sure she was comfortable as they brought her a cold towel and water.

As soon as she was settled in, Max crouched beside her, giving her a warm but firm look. “From now on, you call us if they try to make you do anything stupid again, alright?”

Y/N chuckled, touched by their fierce protectiveness. “I promise.”

Carlos sat beside her, still fuming, but his hand gently rested on her stomach, protective and calming. “If they pull anything like this again, they’ll have to deal with all of us,” he said, his tone softer but no less serious.

That night, news of Carlos’s outburst—and his subsequent fine—spread like wildfire across social media. Fans took to Twitter, trending hashtags like #ProtectY/N and #JusticeForY/N. Clips of the drivers banding together to protect her from the heat circulated, and the internet quickly turned it into a rallying cry against the FIA’s treatment of Y/N.

@F1Fanatic: "Carlos got fined for standing up for his pregnant wife, and I’m here for it. #ProtectY/N 💪🔥"

@PaddockPrincess: "Seeing all the drivers look out for Y/N is the purest thing ever. She deserves all the love 🥹❤️ #FamilyGoals #ProtectY/N"

@F1Daily: "We all knew Carlos was protective, but the way he went off on the FIA? ICONIC. #JusticeForY/N"

Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she scrolled through the support from fans, all of whom felt like an extended family. With Carlos by her side, and a whole paddock of brothers watching over her, she knew she and her baby would be safe, no matter what.

[dumblilb]

I Could Be Enough

Vi x Fem!Reader

(Synopsis: They weren’t super close as children, but running around in the same crowd kept them in the know of each other. But years later she might be all Vi’s got left.)

(Warnings: drunk!vi, alcohol, mentions of physical violence ‘ not towards reader’, it’s mostly fluff, a little bit of angst, no mentions of physical attributes, just she/her pronouns, not proof read)

(Requested: yes)

(Words: 1,585)

* ・゚☆ 。・ * ・゚★ 。・ * ・゚☆ * ・゚☆ 。

You don’t even know how it got to this point. Sitting at the booth in a gross, sticky, and dark club, watching over a girl you didn’t think you would ever see again. And maybe you were right. Cause she’s not the same girl you remember running around the streets of the under city as a child. The one who always had a bright look in her eyes as she tried so hard to live up to her father’s name, and keep her siblings safe.

But one thing was the same behind those, now dark and sad, slate grey eyes. She was a fighter. In the most literal sense. She couldn’t keep her fist off a jaw if she tried. Night after night she would cover her distinct tattoos and red hair with dark paint. Disguising herself from the public who claimed her strength as a prize. Or maybe even hiding from herself. She wasn’t to sure anymore.

But as the nights carried on the paint got messier and the drinks were getting stronger. And it was hard to watch. But here you were. Watching. So hard you thought your eyes might bleed from all the strobing lights and smoke filling the air. Any other night you might have gone to bed. Ignored the aching feeling you had, and left her to party the rest of the night away. But you couldn’t. Because there she was also watching you. As she sloppily got up with a bottle in her hand and started to walk towards the exit, the urge to follow consumed you. Because you knew she wanted you too. She was practically begging. And so you did. Meeting her by the stairs leading to her small apartment.

“Thank god you came, I thought I was gonna have to drink all alone tonight.” She slurred and you sighed resting your hip against the wall, propping yourself up.

“What would you do without me.” You smiled at her. Trying not to be angry with how fucked up she sounds. Slyly taking the bottle from her and helping her steady by the waist you walk her home.

“You know you’re so pretty when you’re mad at me.” She sighs as you push her door open. You just roll your eyes. She’s been doing this for months. Ever since her first pit match. You were hired as a sort of nurse for the ring. Patching up the people who were getting their shit rocked, and the people doing the punching. Making sure they were healed enough for their next match. And the second you saw her step in that ring you knew it was her. Sure she looked a little different. But her deep upper cut. You could never forget that.

So you causally brought up growing up in the lanes while bandaging her fists that day. How you were pretty shy but always friendly with a boy named Ekko. And he had introduced you to his friends a few times. You could tell she remembered you. But she didn’t say anything. Which was okay. You could tell she didn’t really want to be known at that point. But as time went on she spent more time talking to you after matches. Sitting at the bar just trying to figure out how life got both of you here.

But she also found alcohol along the way. And that concerned you. She would always assure you she was fine. And you chose to believe her. Even though it sometimes seemed she would look right through you. Like she wished something else was there.

But even before the alcohol, the casual flirting was always there. Comments about how attractive you looked and how nice you were to her compared to the other fighters. Claiming you made her feel ‘so special’ and not just because it was coming from a beautiful girl like you.

So as you sit her down on her small bed and pull out some supplies to remove her makeup you can’t help but shake your head at her.

“Your dumb fake flirting isn’t going to get you out of this one vi. You’re a mess.” You sigh pushing her hair back with one hand, removing her makeup with the other.

“It’s not fake and you know it.” She rolls her eyes. “I want you. Please.” She says griping the hand with the cloth in it. Rubbing her thumb across your knuckles softly. The difference between her ruff scared hands and yours now glaringly apparent.

“You’re drunk and exhausted, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a bit of a concussion after today’s match. I haven’t seen you get hit that hard in a while.” You say ignoring her advances. As you’ve done before.

“I’m fine. You know I’m fine.” She reassures you. But the wavering of her eyes says otherwise.

“I know you think you’re fine-“ you remove your hand from hers and finish wiping her face. “But I see you, Vi. And this isn’t fine.” You say pointing from the bottle resting on her little table to her bruised fists.

She groans tossing her head back. And you gear up ready for a fight about how you don’t know what you’re talking about. But she rubs her eyes a little, her breath slowly becoming unsteady.

“You’re right I’m sorry.” She breathes out looking at you. The small bit of light roaming the room makes the wateriness of her eyes sparkle. “God I’m so tired and I don’t know what to do.” She cries.

You don’t even know how to respond. She’s never really cried in front of you before. She’s always been so tuff. But as she sits before you, even her toned and muscular body couldn’t make her look strong.

“I’m so lonely. All I have at this point is you. And you don’t even want me.” She continues and your face softens. Kneeling down in front of her you softly stroke her hair, pulling her in for a hug. She cautiously wraps her arms around you. Like just her touch might scare you away.

“You have me. You do. I think you have for a while now. I just didn’t think you were serious.” You reassure her. Her head nuzzles into the crook of your neck, and you can hear her breathing steady slightly.

“I’m always serious about you.” She says softly, it being a bit muffled by her position. She pulls away from the hug, resting her forehead to yours. “Can you stay please. I don’t want to be alone.” She asks quietly. Her warm breath hitting your lips.

“I’ll stay.” You grin and she moves to get up and grab a blanket. You help get her ready to lay down, removing her thick boots and setting aside the dirty cloth.

She props the blanket in your lap and she lays down. At first you just smile at how dainty she looks compared to how you usually see her. But her strong arm pulling you down next to her snaps you out of it pretty quickly.

Pulling the blanket over you both, you run your fingers through her hair. Analyzing her face one feature at a time. Her eyes seem a little more blue in this lighting. And you can finally see the small freckles adorning her skin.

“Are you trying to seduce me.” She asks with a soft laugh. “Cause it’s working.”

“Don’t get any funny ideas. That’s not happening. At least not tonight.” You say and you could have sworn her cheeks got a little pink.

“Well then you’ve got to stop staring at me like that… At least not tonight.” She jokes rolling over. Making you smile.

With her back to you, you place an arm around her waist holding her firm. You could feel her body stiffen and you try to remove your arm but she stops you. “No wait. This is good.” She whispers. “This is good.” And she holds your arm tight to her. Rubbing circles across it with her fingers. Her whole body relaxes against yours and you smile against her neck.

“You know I’m not that same girl anymore.” She sighs a little out of no where. But you get it, she’s trying to give you an out. A chance to run. You hum in response. “I’m different I think. I’m not as strong as I used to be.” She continues and you know she’s not talking about muscle, or brawn. She used to be a leader. Someone people looked up to. And now… most people didn’t even know her real name.

“That might be true. But that’s okay.” You say pressing a soft kiss to the base of her neck. “You’ve been through a lot. I think you’re holding on to a girl who didn’t know what life was yet. And you’re grown up. It’s normal to not be the same. Or feel the same.” You continue and she turns to face you. Caressing your cheek softly.

“I think maybe I can be okay. With you.” She muses. Placing a light kiss to your lips. Making you smile.

“Good cause I’m not going anywhere.”

You don’t know if tomorrow she would go back to drinking. Or if she would get her ass kicked in the pit. But tonight she was safe. And she was with you. And as she fell asleep to your heart beating against her, you couldn’t help but hope it could stay this way. Cause for you. This was enough.

[vivwritesfics]

Moon Goes To A Grand Prix

Blurb bc I'm once again sick and dying

Series Masterlist

Moon the raccoon wore his little blue harness as his mom scanned her way into the paddock. It was the Friday of the Miami Grand Prix, meaning the paddock was just a little quieter than the Saturday and Sunday.

Everybody in the paddock stopped to stare as Moon came trotting past. He walked just a couple of steps ahead of his mom, like a loyal dog on a leash.

When they got to a busier part of the paddock, Y/N scooped Moon into her arms. "Should we go and find your dad?" She asked him as she scratched the top of his head.

She walked through the paddock with Moon in her arms, heading towards the Williams garage.

They were stopped several times along the way, with Daniel Ricciardo being the first. "Moon!" He shouted as he strode towards them.

Y/N held Moon towards him and Daniel took him from her like he was a baby. He turned towards photographer's facing them, getting a picture with Moon. "I can't believe Moon is finally attending his first Grand Prix," he said, handing him back to his mother.

"Hes grown so much, I know," Y/N answered, placing him back on the floor. Immediately Moon set about sniffing Daniels shoes. "We're off to go and find his dad," she said along with her goodbyes.

The next person to interrupt their journey was Oscar Piastri. "Moon Moon!" He called the moment he saw him.

Moon went trotting towards him, happy to let Oscar pick him up. "There's my favourite nephew."

"Nephew, Osc?"

"Yeah," Oscar answered, holding Moon against his McLaren shirt. "We've got to get him in Orange at some point."

"Well, when Logan and Lando are teammates, I'll consider it," she said with a cheeky grin.

Oscar rolled his eyes in a very unserious manner. "Has he been introduced to everyone yet?" He asked as she began walking away, still holding Moon. Y/N had no choice but to follow.

Oscar insisted on introducing Moon to as many of the people at McLaren as possible.

When a little raccoon came trotting up to him, Lando ran away, again in an unserious manner. But Moon loved the chase and found himself climbing up Lando's jeans.

On their way to the Williams garage they were stopped by Pierre Gasly and Charles Leclerc, all insisting on saying Hello to Moon. Carlos Sainz insisted on giving him food and Lewis Hamilton was only to happy to meet him.

Eventually Y/N got to the Williams Garage with Moon. "Where's your dad?" She said to him and he pulled on the leash, almost as if he understood up.

Logan didn't notice them at first. His back was to them as he spoke to his engineers.

Y/N let Moon get closer. She let go of his leash as he climbed up Logans leg.

Finally, Logan turned around. He grabbed Moon from his leg and held him in his arms as he looked around for his girlfriend. "Hey," she said, grinning up him.

Holding Moon cradled in his arms, Logan walked over to his girlfriend. "Hey," he replied, unable to hide his smile as he dipped his head down and kissed her.

She wanted to wrap her arms around him, to hold him close, but with Moon in the way she couldn't. So, she settled for tucking herself into his side. "Moon and I wanted to wish you good luck today," she said, closing her eyes as she leaned against his shoulder.

"I've got my good luck charms here, I'm bound to do well."

But Y/N shook her head at that. "Ah, Fuck, Logan. You jinxed it."

Before he could respond with anything other than a laugh, there was a shout from across the garage. "IS THAT MOON?" Cried Alex Albon as he came running towards them.

It was fine, the three of them would get family time later.

[tiny-space-platypus]

Part 4 Miscommunication

(Damien's POV)

Previous

School had started now and a new kid came to the academy today. A girl roughly his age but a little shorter. This girl was loud and obnoxious, gathering quite a crowd of friends on her first day. That was fine though, Damian didn't exactly want to have to talk to another brainless civilian. Though Grayson did say he needed to make more friends. Explaining that not having friends would blow his cover.

Before Damian decided what to do the girl who was just with a group of his classmates was now behind him, startling him. Startling Him. Damian had been trained by assassins, by his mother, father, and siblings to always be acutely aware of his surroundings yet this girl scared him? Damian needed to understand how.

The girl who introduced herself as Dani Nightingale giggled.

Damian: "You startled me"

Dani: "yeah I do that"

Their classmates are cheering no one has ever managed to sneak up on Damian and now this new girl has. Great this girl was now going to be another nuisance to him. Then the girl frowned at him and apologized softly before avoiding him for the rest of the day. Odd.

Damian also found that this girl was very smart. She was great at science, math, and knew so many languages that it was just impressive. She was odd.

Dani avoided Damian for the rest of the day. She fucked up, she fucked up big time, even if he doesn't show it she can still feel his emotions. She wants to fall in for the floor and disappear but she can't do that. So instead she decided to focus on the school day. Answering and doing as much as she can to avoid Damian. The boy she accidentally made hate her. She can't wait for today to be over. The end of the day rolled around and Danny was there to pick her up. Just as she ran up to Danny, Damian did the same. Damian got to Danny first.

Damian: "Todd, what are you doing here?"

Dani running into Danny and giving him a massive hug. "Danny!"

Danny (confused) "sorry kid, but I'm not whoever Todd is?"

Damian now also confused and looking closely at Danny because his brother was laughing and smiling and not normal. Then he looked at the scars on the man's arms and neck and mannerisms. That wasn't Jason but just looked like him, odd.

Dick and Tim now confused that Damian didn't come to the car, walk over and react the same way Damian did though more extreme. "Jason??"

Danny (sighing): "No my name's Danny. Nice to meet you" (looks at Tim) "or re-meet you, how was your debate thing or whatever? I assume that was why you were in a suit?"

Tim (confused before remembering the coffee shop) "oh! Um yeah everything went well"

Dick smiling while internally screaming about seeing someone who looked like a happy version of his brother. "It's nice to meet you too"

Both Nightingales feeling the turmoil and odd feeling from the 3 and decided. Nope! Not my circus not my monkeys even if he does maybe look like he belongs to that circus. Not his, nope, they have enough problems, whatever this family has is not also his.

Danny: "anyways we've got to go, I'm sure we'll see you around"

Danny left with Dani and went home with her neither aware of the tracker Damian had left on Dani.

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

Danny and Elle having a normal night doing homework, having dinner together, all that jazz while being watched by Robin and RR who had now taken a special in this family. Especially after Tim could find almost nothing on any of the Nightingales past a few months ago when they came to Gotham or when their sister went to Stanford. They watch Danny put Elle to bed then begin tinkering with a side project (he is an engineer after all). They seemed normal but something still bugged the both of them about the Nightingales. Something was still off, they'd have to keep investigat- Danny pulled out the 2 trackers that were were placed on both him and Elle and sat them on the table in front of him. He knew about the trackers. Maybe he was a threat.

Danny had of course found the tracker on him immediately and decided to fuck around making it go absolutely everywhere far too quickly till he realized where the tracker was from. It was shaped as a bat of course it came from Batman and his spawn. SIGH he supposed he couldn't avoid the bats and birds if they were already tailing him, might as well try to make friends first. The fact that they were looking for them was only solidified when he found another on Elle's school bag. 1) how dare they put one on his little sister. 2) who the hell put it there?? Was it suit boy again? Or was it one of the others? He'd have to tell Elle to be careful around them from now on. He'll have to be more careful now. Welp might as well try to reverse engineer these trackers so he can make something to scramble them when those guys eventually try again. He and to at least protect Elle.

(Things I thought of but didn't know how to add it yet soo)

Dani goes by both Dani and Elle depending on if her brother is around. Its confusing when they're both being refused to as Danny after all.

Tim is going feral because he can't find anything on them, like they didn't exist before this summer.

Oracle is also going insane because her cameras can't pick the two up. Every time she tries to focus on them the camera feed glitches out till they're gone.

The next part will be about Jason getting caught with GIW because they think it's Danny (and Elle maybe.) Still writing.

Next

[sapphicmsmarvel]

Azriel: Through Feyre's eyes

This absolutely follows my favorite fic plotline where Feyre and Y/N are childhood best friends and when Nesta and Elain are taken, Y/N is taken as well and Cauldron Made. 

This is Feyre, watching her best friend fall for her brother in law 💙

I def recommend reading The Night Court’s Justice and The Beginning of Your Life with Azriel. I’m pulling stuff from both those fics.  

Feyre truly didn’t know how Y/N would react to this world. 

Y/N hated change, she hated socializing unless she had her emotional support extrovert with her (Feyre or Elain), but, at the same time she loved adventure. 

And this was possibly a bigger adventure than even her favorite books were about. 

According to Rhys’ messages while Feyre was at the Spring Court, Y/N was taking a while to warm up to them. Shorter than it took Feyre (which was surprising) to warm up, but Y/N even left her room after a few hours being cooped up. 

She had helped nurse Cassian and Azriel back to health with Madja, quickly finding her footing even though Y/N absolutely hated medical things. 

When Feyre came back from the Spring Court, Y/N nearly took her out with her new strength. 

“Sorry, I'm still getting used to it. I broke a mug this morning.” She said into Feyre’s hair. Then pulled away from her, “Actually I’m not sorry, you left! Again!” She scolded Feyre, and Feyre had never been happier to be scolded. 

Feyre grabbed the necklace she always wore, the one she had matching with Y/N. “I had you with me.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes and grabbed her own necklace out of her shirt. “Bitch.” 

“Loser.” And you two clinked your necklaces together.

And that was that. 

The first dinner that night, Feyre introduced you to Lucien. She saw the blush on your cheeks and knew you thought he was handsome, Feyre herself thought he was. 

Eventually, everyone had sat at the table, you were in between Cassian and Azriel, almost like you had every dinner since she was gone. 

“Your friend is a horrid nurse.” Cassian wrinkled his nose. 

“Okay listen, I’m not used to this shit.” You said, passing the beets to Azriel. Who graciously accepted it, a light blush dusting his cheeks that told Feyre everything she needed to know. 

She glanced at Rhys who widened his eyes slightly and said in her mind “He’s been pining since she told him to ‘sit the fuck down’ when he tried to get up too early.” Rhys had a hearty chuckle, “Meanwhile I decided I wanted her around.” Feyre let out a small smile. 

“You should not gag when seeing a tendon in your patient's wing!” Cassian declared. 

Y/N gagged at the reminder. 

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

Watching her best friend fall in love brought Feyre an incredible amount of joy. She was a natural meddler and nosey in general. 

She watched as Azriel and you became inseparable. Although she had her mate to thank for that, after all you became the Night Court’s Justice and then you and Azriel began a professional partnership. 

It stressed her out, you being away. You were her emotional support person, even before her husband and mate. But you two would have mental conversations every day if you could. Unless you and Az were deep undercover. 

The secret smiles, the inside jokes, the memories that you and Az shared. She loved witnessing them.

Then, your accident happened. 

She hadn’t felt terror like that since Rhys ‘died’. When Rhys had informed her that you were on your deathbed, and that he had instructed a carriage to come and retrieve you and Azriel, she thought she was going to throw up. 

She insisted on being in the carriage, which then prompted Rhys to insist she take Nesta with her as Nesta had all the training of an Illyrian and could, frankly, kill someone with a single swipe of her hand. 

That worked out just fine for her, as Nesta and you were close as well. Her and her sister were repairing their relationship. What’s a 12 hour jaunt through the forest to retrieve their near-dead friend? 

A lot. That’s what it was. 

They argued, they threatened. But it all came from a place of worry as those arguments would end with hugs and comfort that they both needed. 

They didn’t rest either, not until they saw you. About four hours in, Rhys had reached out and alerted Feyre that you had awoken, you were eating and giving Azriel shit. 

She was so relieved she wept, and when she shared the news with Nesta, she swept too. 

When they arrived at the Inn, and alerted the Innkeeper Esther greeted them and let them know you had just woken up and Azriel would bring you out shortly. She made her husband bring out your belongings. 

He brought out a bag and she could smell your blood on the clothes in them. It made her nearly sick. She knew Nesta felt the same way. They wouldn’t ease until they saw you. 

But they didn’t wait long, once they got your bags put away in the carriage, Azriel was coming outside with you in a bridal carry.

And the best part? You were smiling. 

She let out a breath of relief that Nesta echoed. Then the smell hit them. “Their mating bond has snapped.” Feyre whispered to Nesta. 

Nesta gave her a shit-eating, conspiratorial grin. “Oh, the boys will have fun teasing him.” 

And they did when you all got back and they watched him bridal carry you into your room at the townhouse. They then watched him nurse you back to health, like you did for him many moons ago. 

If she could’ve designed the perfect male for her best friend, it would’ve been Azriel. She had never seen him smitten because she had obviously just entered his life, but she’d say he was smitten for you.

You never lifted a finger. He’d get your doors, push in your chairs, he treated you like a princess. And he was your prince because you gave that energy right back to him. 

You had a habit of rambling. In the past, she watched as your partners would ignore you and the light dimmed from your eyes when you realized they weren’t listening. Azriel however, not only clearly listening, he smiled while you talked as if just your voice brought him joy. He would respond with questions and let you go into another rambling as you explained the answer. 

She watched you become a shell of yourself with your old partners. You blossomed with Azriel. 

You two always had some point of contact with each other. Not in the gross PDA way, but like your thighs touching sitting next to each other. Your foot on his leg. A hand hold. Hand in arm. Anything. 

She was happy to see the changes in him as well. Rhysand felt the same way. He was outwardly smiling and laughing. More affectionate with his friends. Hell, he was more confident in his hands, he allowed others to touch them and even wore rings now that he loved. 

Rhysand had told Feyre “He’s always wanted to wear jewelry but was worried his hands would look bad with them. I will forever be grateful to Y/N for making him more confident and comfortable.”

His shadows even buzzed about more. You giggled because they loved your hair. 

The honeymoon phase wasn't a ‘stage’ for you two. It was the whole relationship. Of course, you two had your arguments, every partnership did. And she definitely heard about them. But you always came back together in the end, you always knew you would. It made her so incredibly happy you had that security and safety with him. No matter what argument, you knew in your soul and bones, he would never cheat, never leave. 

She felt content knowing her best friend was taken care of. She also looked forward to a lifetime of double dates.

[motherlvr]

can you write something grumpy!42miles x sunshine!reader? where he’s always kinda mean but cares about her but they end up together

this prompt is so cute tysm for the req!!

Word count: About 1,600

Pairing: Grumpy Earth-42! Miles Morales x Sunshine! f! reader

Summary: The line between just classmates and something more is thin. Miles and You seemed to be walking that line.

Warnings: (begrudgingly) friends to lovers, he's a bit mean, fluff, minimal cursing, classmates to lovers, pure fluff, cannot contain the fluff, reader is a little slow, this is short and cute, spanish grammar is not my strong suit

A/N: if i haven't gotten to your request yet, its still a wip but will be posted soon!

_________

You were boisterously laughing. Obnoxiously, even. The guy’s joke wasn’t even that funny.

Miles called your name out with an aggravated tone,

"Would it kill you to shut up for a second?"

You promptly responded, "Would it kill you to lighten up for once?"

He regrets not skipping this class.

That was partially a lie. In reality, he didn’t care for this class at all. He only came to see you. You were one of the few people who put up with him.

Miles and you always sat together during class. "Unassigned assigned seats", you'd call it. But that’s all you were. Seat partners. That was the way it was, and the way it would stay. And he was fine with that, at least he tried to convince himself.

The next day, the seat next to Miles was empty. It hasn’t been empty since the first day you met.

If you asked Miles how you both met, he’d say you forced your way into his life. However, you’d say that you saw through his “cold guy” facade and he opened up his heart to you. He was a good guy if you had the patience. That was only one of the many things he admired about you. Your optimism.

He saw you across the room. You were sitting with someone else. A guy. What was his name again? Miles couldn't recall. That was how irrelevant he was to Miles.

"Is this seat taken?" Miles looked up to the voice that had spoken, hoping it was somehow you. However, as he glanced up, an unfamiliar face was staring at him.

"Nah." He muttered, not sparing her another look.

She introduced herself and told Miles her name, but he wasn't listening. He was listening to your laugh. How could he not? Your laugh was practically drowning out every other voice in the room. At least, that’s how he perceived it.

You were giggling at whatever the guy next to you said. But this time, he wished it was him making you laugh. That guy didn't deserve to hear you laugh, or see you smile.

He couldn't stand your laugh unless he was the cause of it. Miles didn’t pay attention to the lesson that day. He was occupied staring daggers into your back. Yet you never noticed.

You sat next to Miles the day after, as usual. It was an unspoken agreement, and you had broken it the day prior.

Immediately as you sat down, Miles started interrogating you.

"You left me with some random girl to go flirt with that moron? He's a dick." He scoffed at you, nodding his head towards the guy that you left him for yesterday.

Right, like you're not. You thought. "He's really not, he's a good guy!" You defended him and continued, "Plus, your partner was super smart. She was probably more help than I could’ve been.”

"Ella no es tú. What else can I say, ma?" Miles casually said.

You tried to hide your grin but failed as a smile spread across your face. The corner of his lip curled in a small smirk. If you blinked, you would have missed it.

"I’m sorry for 'leaving you', Miles. But don’t worry, I prefer you over him anyway." You smiled brightly at him. And for a second, his stoic heart gleamed.

"I wasn't worried." He grumbled.

"You sure? I mean, whatever you say.” You grinned amusedly at him.

The rest of the class period followed as usual. But this time, before the bell rang, Miles bottled up his dignity to ask you, "Ay ma, wanna hang out after school?"

You raised a skeptical brow at his unusual behavior, "What, you starting to like me now? I thought you couldn't tolerate me." You probed.

Oblivious to you, he does more than just tolerate you. He was growing fond of your presence. He was starting to miss the sound of your giggle echoing within the room when he wasn’t around you.

But he couldn't find the courage to tell you just yet. Instead, he murmured, "I can tolerate you. Out of most of these people in here, anyway."

"I'm kidding. Yeah, I'm down, Miles." You teased him and agreed.

What you didn't know is that your initial question wasn't very far from the truth.

The school day couldn’t have passed any slower. If you were being honest, you were eagerly anticipating spending more time with Miles out of school.

The final bell of the day rang, and Miles held up to his side of the agreement. He met up with you after school.

Walking side-by-side, you asked, "What've you got planned for us today, Miles? You gonna wine and dine me?" you winked at him.

"Maybe another day, mami." He cracked a slight grin as he responded, fond of your antics.

"I'll hold you to that. I've got a better idea, anyway." You said as you heard a familiar song ringing through the atmosphere.

You yanked Miles by his arm and pulled him, "Look, an ice cream truck! I haven't seen one of those in forever. Let's go!"

A rare smile adorned Miles' face. Not that you saw it. You were too busy chasing after the ice cream truck and dragging him along.

You approached the ice cream truck. The ice cream man greeted you, "Hey guys! What can I get for you today?"

Without missing a beat, you said "Hello! Can I get the Spongebob popsicle please?" with a bright smile.

Miles ordered his right after you. "Coming right up!" The ice cream man said. He shortly returned with both your orders in hand.

As you tried to give the owner cash, Miles lowered your hand gently and said, "Let me pay for you." It was more of a demand as he handed cash to the man.

You couldn't contain the surprise that formed on your face. "Really? Thank you, Miles! You didn't have to do that, y’know." You reached up to him and peppered a kiss on his cheek as a token of gratitude. "Nah, I wanted to." He dismisses it with a shrug.

The man gave you both your ice creams and said, "Have a good day!"

"Young love. A beautiful thing to see." The owner of the truck said as you both walked away.

You both sat on a bench surrounded by a garden of blooming flowers. It was quite scenic for Brooklyn. "Miles, look. He only has one eye!" You chuckled as you showed him your popsicle.

Unbeknownst to you, you had ice cream smeared on your face. He leaned in to wipe the corner of your mouth with his thumb, his gaze lingering on your lips. An almost too-intimate action for people who were just "classmates." But you brushed it off as him being friendly for a change.

"You're a mess, mami." He chuckled, shaking his head at you. You ignored how he made your stomach do flips.

Miles had led you to a rooftop that he frequents. It had an incredible view of the sun, despite all the tall buildings encased around you two.

Miles and you spent the rest of the evening together, basking in the presence of one another. You conversed for hours, only realizing the time when the sun started to set. Comfortable moments of silence were exchanged as you watched the sun disappear from the sky, the moon soon replacing it.

“It’s a full moon, isn’t it just beautiful?” You admired the moon as it shone down on the sullen streets of Brooklyn.

"Yeah, It is." He replied, but he wasn't looking at the moon. If you had just turned your head, you'd realize the true meaning of his words. He hadn't even noticed the moon. His eyes were fixated on you instead. He believed that the moon couldn't even hold a candle to you.

"Why haven't we done this before, Miles? I enjoyed hanging out with you today." You felt harmonious with him for once, laying your head against his shoulder as you studied his face.

"I did too, princesa. Maybe I will just wine and dine you someday." Miles said with a smirk, gazing down into your eyes with a borderline smitten expression.

A lightbulb suddenly enlightened your brain. You mentally banged your head against a wall. How could you be so naive to not realize it sooner?

You broke the tension in the air and raised your head to look into his eyes. "Is this a date? You know, people that are 'just' classmates don't go on dates." You told him cheekily.

Could he not have made it more obvious? He paused for a moment and said, “I don’t want to be just classmates.”

“So you want to be best friends? Great! Me too." You grinned, feigning naivety.

His face immediately dropped as he facepalmed himself. "Dios mío, no. That's not what I meant. Never mind, olvídalo." He said, shaking his head.

You beamed at him and laced your fingers with his. “I’m just messing with you, Miles. I like you too. In case you haven't noticed."

He sighed of relief as he lifted your entwined hands to press a soft kiss to the back of your hand. You stayed in each other's embrace for the rest of the night.

From that day forward, you never broke the unspoken agreement ever again. And Miles never had to worry about you associating with another douche again. Excluding himself.

You walked into class hand-in-hand the next day. The following days, as well. That's the way it was, and that's the way it would stay. And both of you were content with that.

_________

ella no es tú - she's not you

dios mío - my god

olvídalo - forget it

princesa - princess

[bluesidez]

Hi! I saw your opening requests!

I was hoping for Miguel O’Hara x plus-size reader. Reader is a regular waitress who meets both Miguel and Spider-Man. Knows Miguel because he’s become a regular and Spider-Man because the diner gets robbed, but Reader manages to save herself. Also if the reader could have glasses that would be awesome!

It’s up to you! You’re the writer.

Also I just wanted to say I love your Gym rat Miguel series! 😁❤️💙❤️

[Dual]

lab taster: Anonymous Participant 🩻

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x PlusSize!Reader

summary: There's something strange about that guy in the corner...

content warning: fluffy, definitely suggestive at parts, I kind of take a bit from the comic books, but it's still the ATSV Miguel, Kasey Nash is here + a certain someone for like a millisecond, talks of violence, guns, and threats (but nothing too terrifying), also LOTS of mentions of food. like lotsssss

word count: 3.6k, halfway proofread

a/n: I started writing this as if she worked at a fancy restaurant, but then I realized you said diner, so I had to backtrack. ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE ON GYM RAT MIGUEL!!! 🩵

“I’ve never seen one man eat so much.”

You looked to where your coworker was staring, eyes landing on the man that frequents the corner of the dim dining room.

“He’s a big guy. He probably needs it,” you flipped through your pad in order to avoid looking at the person who’s been wrapped in your thoughts for a few months now.

He always comes in just when the afternoon is turning into evening and the sun kisses his skin through the window. Most days he looks a little tired, lost in thought as he waits for his food.

His order is usually the same: a double-stacked burger with a large fry and a black coffee. Sometimes, he’d substitute the meal with a heavy breakfast, pouring syrup over everything. Other times, he’d order pork chops and gravy with a slice of apple pie to take home.

He always looked a bit sheepish when he asked for a meal to-go, as if you would judge him openly for being a working man.

On the contrary, you wondered why he always came here. From the shine on his watch to the material of his clothes, you could tell he could afford better establishments to eat at.

“If you’re done ogling at him, you can bring him the check,” Kasey snickered at you. “He keeps looking over here and it’s freaking me out.”

“You just don’t like anyone but that flying bug guy.”

“That’s Mr. Spider-Man to you,” Kasey moved so that you could print out his receipt. “And he does something useful with his time like save civilians. That guy just comes in here and looks at you like he wants to eat you for dessert.”

“What?”

You turn to him again and he quickly looks out of the window, plastic cup pressed against his lips.

“I don’t think he even sees me like that,” you mumble, ripping the paper from the machine and placing it onto the clipboard. “He’s just a man who enjoys comforting meals and ambiance.”

“Yeah. An ambiance that starts and ends with you and your ass, maybe.”

An affronted “hey” goes ignored by Kasey who disappears to go serve another table.

She really shouldn’t have put that thought into your head, because now you’re more hyperaware of your actions than usual.

You wipe at your apron and pull your dress down before you head towards his table, steps a bit hesitant.

As you get closer, he looks back at you. Maybe he is interested, but maybe you’re a bit delusional.

“Here’s your check, sir. I hope you enjoyed your meal,” you placed the clipboard on the table. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No, thank you,” he holds up the check up with a small smile. “Maybe a name so I know who my tip is going to.”

Your fingers press against the frames of your glasses, pushing them up a little.

Did you forget to introduce yourself to him when you sat him down?

When you say your name, your confusion must have carried over to your face because the way the man brings his hands up is quick.

“Ah, it’s fine Mr.-“ you take a glance at his card, never mind that you’ve already memorized his name, “O’Hara.”

“Miguel is fine.”

“Mr. Miguel.”

“Just. Miguel is fine.”

You nod and smile. Miguel was fitting for a face like that, and your heart felt the same way as you completed his transaction and handed him his receipt.

The thought of him being interested in you was cute to imagine, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up.

Kasey taps your shoulder as she carries a coffee jug back to the machine, “Go clear your table. There’s a tip.”

With a routined step, you start to stack his empty plates. Napkins get thrown into the bin, and utensils are gathered.

A gasp leaves your lips as a stack of 20s reveals itself. A note wrapped around it says your name and “Thank you for always making my nights.”

Maybe Kasey was right. She could never know that, though.

It’s about a week or so before Miguel comes back.

Oddly enough, too much happened at the diner within that time.

Your boss was on your ass about splitting your tips with a manager that was never there. Creeps kept lingering around the corner during closing time. Your schedule was insane and you’ve hit your monthly limit of rude customers.

When Miguel comes in, it’s almost as if white angel wings were attached to him.

“What can I get you today?” you ask with a smile.

“I think just a black coffee to start off,” he looks over you. “New uniforms?”

You glance down at your dress, the neckline of it plunging severely low.

“Yeah. The boss thinks it’ll bring in more customers,” you yank at the back of the dress, still a bit nervous about how high the skirt is on your body. It’s tight in places that no uniform can should be, hugging your curves, and exposing your chest and legs. “I think he’s full of it.”

Miguel is silent for a while, eyes roaming in a way that you couldn’t quite discern.

“He definitely was onto something.”

You blink.

“Uh, is he- He’s not causing any problems for you, is he?”

“No. It’s all good. For now.”

He stumbles his way through his order, corned beef on rye bread with swiss cheese and sauerkraut along with some homemade potato spirals.

“Will that be all for you?”

“Yes, thank you,” he hides behind his coffee mug as you walk away.

While you wait for his order to be done, you watch Kasey run around and chat with some of your regulars. Despite how grumpy she could be, she was a natural at keeping the customers entertained.

Refilling the drinks for a few people at the barstools, your mind drifts to what Kasey is saying to one of the old geezers who’s keen on superstitions.

“I’m just saying, there has to be a motive for why he only strikes in the afternoon!”

“Are you sure he’s just not an idiot desperate for attention?” Kasey removes his empty plate and tops off his water. “Leaving notes with riddles? That’s so been-there-done-that.”

“Kase, I don’t think you get it, doll. His attacks have gotten more and more severe. He’s starting to target a specific demographic.”

A shout and a ding by the window lets you know that Miguel’s order is ready. You place an extra pickle on his plate just because.

Rounding the corner of the bar, Kasey is still bickering about the city’s most recent villain.

“Listen. If I’m ever in dire need,” she turns and sighs dramatically at a news segment featuring Spider-Man flying across buildings, “I know who to call for.”

The old man clicks his teeth and throws a hand at the screen, “What a bunch of rubbish. That prick isn’t worth a hoot. The Fly-Boys are your best bet.”

“As if those douchebags can do anything for me. Hurry up and pay, mister.”

You place Miguel’s food in front of him, mouth moving before your mind.

“Spider-man seems like a nice guy.”

“What makes you say so?” Miguel reaches for the ketchup.

“Oh, I don’t know. Kasey is always going on and on about him, so any doubts I had, she’s already debunked.”

He’s silent, turning over his sandwich.

“And what do you think of him now?”

“I think he’s pretty cool. He must be stressed out from everything, though. I couldn’t imagine taking on so much. What about you?”

He coughs, “What about me?”

“What do you think of Spider-Man?”

“He’s practical, always gets the job done. Maybe a bit too ambitious for his own good.”

“You talk like you know him.”

“I’ve never met him,” Miguel hums. “ Just taking a wild guess.”

The clip switches to Spider-Man throwing a car right at a villain camping out in a park resulting in immediate flames.

“That’s practical, alright.”

Miguel clears his throat, “He’s probably had better days.”

It’s been raining a lot which meant slower business and slower tips.

You’ve spent most work hours folding and refolding the towel in your apron pocket or flipping through the songs on the jukebox to fill the stillness of the diner.

A few lone stragglers were enjoying their meal, keeping quiet to themselves.

The chefs in the back were roughhousing and Kasey was ticking down when she could clock out.

Two more hours and thirty until you could fight through the rain to get home.

The bell to the door rings, opening up to a drenched Miguel.

A smile comes to your face as if you won a cash prize.

“Hey, stranger,” Kasey says as she turns and starts up a pot of coffee as you round the corner. “Glad to see you here. She was worried sick! You haven’t come in for a while.”

“Kasey, hush!”

“No, no, let her speak,” Miguel taps against the counter. “I’d like to hear what she has to say.”

You elbow Kasey before she even thinks to respond, “Would you like your regular seat, Miguel?”

“I would love that. Had a long day.”

“That you should tell her all about over some coffee,” Kasey smiles. “Go ahead, I’ll cover you.”

You sigh as Kasey follows you to wear Miguel usually sits, and gets Miguel’s order down. She fights silently with you over sitting down across from him. Her eyes saying something along the lines of “we can split the tip,” “here’s your chance,” and “that old fart isn’t going to fire you.”

So there you were, sitting across the guy who you anticipate to come in every so often. The guy who loved simple, American-style meals. The guy with the nice build and a pretty face.

The guy who can’t stop looking at your chest right now.

“You said you had a tough day?” you peer at him from over your glasses, a little unsure of what his steady eyes meant.

“Um, yeah,” he stutters. “There’s been some changes in positions at my job. Some higher ups are giving me trouble, but I think they’re scared they’re about to lose their seats.”

“Oh, you didn’t tell me you were a big-shot.”

“I wouldn’t say all of that,” he grins as he bends his head down. The way his hair falls is dreamy and it’s no fair that he still looks this good despite the rain dousing him. “I’m just in an interesting spot.”

Kasey plops down a hot plate of chopped steak and mashed potatoes smothered in gravy with some steaming broccoli on the side. There’s a heaping amount of food on the plate and you give her an incredulous look before she whips out an extra pair of utensils.

“The guys in the back a closing up shop. They want as little dishes to wash as possible.”

“We don’t close until-”

“As little dishes as possible!” Kasey sing-songs, leaving you shifting in your seat.

Miguel picks up a fork, “I hope you like beef.”

He starts to cut into the meat and you’re slow to follow, watching his arms bulge through through his sweater.

You wonder if he could hear your heart rattling in your chest.

The conversation continues and you learn that Miguel works at Alchemax working as a head lab technician.

“Miguel, that’s amazing! I’ve seen old classmates nearly go to war for that position.”

“It’s not all that it’s chalked up to be.”

“It’s still astounding that you got to that level,” you push your fork through some potatoes and take a bite, “You should be proud. And if not, I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you,” he looks up at you while you continue to chew. “You’ve got something here.”

“Oh,” you quickly take your fingers to your lips, embarrassed.

“Here,” Miguel reaches across from you and wipes he corner of your mouth with a napkin. “All better.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Time is lost as you two exchange words, Miguel making you laugh over the smallest things. He’s as sweet as ever, his compliments make you ecstatic, and he listens when you go into your own stories. Your cheeks hurt from how much you’ve been grinning.

“Hey, so, I’ve been thinking,” Miguel starts.

“About?”

He takes a deep breath, shoulders tensing up.

“I would love to take you on a date. Somewhere nice and exciting. That’s if you would want to, of course. I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Miguel,” you stop his ramblings with a hand on his wrist, “I would love to go on a date with you.”

His shoulders relax, and his smile is wide.

The chime of the door rings, signaling another customer coming inside. His hands are in his pockets and his hoodie is pulled tight around him. Not an uncommon sight, but the diner was set to close soon.

You followed his steps as he sat in Kasey’s side of the diner, his leg bouncing repeatedly.

“For our date,” Kasey meets your eyes before she goes to his table. Her hospitable tone switched on. “Where were you thinking of going?”

Miguel begins to answer, but you continue to stare at the other side of the room. The guy is jumpy and from what you can tell, snappy. Kasey looks antsy as she walks back to the counter to grab a cup and a picture of water.

Miguel turns around to look where you’re watch and turns back, “Is something wrong?”

“That guy is making Kasey nervous. She’s hiding it well, but she’s freaking out.”

You both watch as he scans that side of the room, body rocking in the still chair.

It was daunting and quiet. The sound of the rain drowning out the idle noises of the dining room.

“Something’s not right,” you whisper.

From how Miguel gets up, you can see that he can feel the uneasiness, too.

Kasey walks over to him, a slice of thick chocolate cake on a small plate in her hands. She places it on the table, ready to ask if he needs anything else.

Time stops as he grabs her arm and yanks her towards him, the few customers left stopping to watch the scene. Kasey pulls her arm back, ready to put up a fight.

The man pulls something out of his pocket, Kasey’s voice reaching a shriek. You gasp as you see him point it right at her head, nerves nearly failing you. People scramble to corners of the room, some falling to the floor.

Miguel grabs your arm and drags you to the bathroom, your hands covering your mouth as you fight the urge to scream.

You can’t feel anything as he shoves you into a stall, your limbs trembling. Tears are running down your face as you try to think, but Miguel is holding you up to keep you from falling.

“Stay in here, and lock the door. Don’t come out.”

“But Miguel, he has a gun! We, we should call someone. You can’t go back out there!”

“I’ll be ok. I promise.”

“How do you know that?”

“Look at me,” Miguel takes your hands as you slide to the floor. He makes the trip easy, arms solid. “I’ll meet you when this is over, ok?”

“Ok,” your vision blurs as Miguel leaves, face worn with sorrow.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting on the gross bathroom floor, sobbing into your hands.

You could hear shouting and screaming, the yells of the man telling everyone to shut up. A few bangs of his gun went off and you bit your wrist in order to give yourself away. It didn’t feel right to be the only one to make an escape, but maybe you would be next to die, too.

The rain continues outside, a loud strike of thunder echoing off the tiles as lights flicker off. Your heartbeat picks up as you try not to make a sound. The lightning illuminates the room for a second, and the noise from outside stops.

You can’t tell what’s going on, the pit of your stomach falling with every second.

The door bangs open, and you feel like passing out. It sounds like the ocean is roaring in your ears as you try to listen for footsteps.

One second turns into two, two turns into ten, and you lose count of how long you’re holding your breath.

Your stall is pried open as the lightning shines through the window. Even as you see the masked hero, your throat lets out a weak cry.

“Come on,” he says, eyes on his mask squinting. “It’s safe now.”

With your eyes refocusing, you see Spider-Man standing tall and proud, with Kasey latched to his back like a koala.

Your hand moves across the stall before you feel yourself falling forward.

Spider-Man catches you with ease, lifting you into his arms.

“Thank you, thank you!”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

He carries you both back to the dining room where the robber is beaten black and blue, tied up in neon red webbing. People are huddled up together as policemen ask them questions.

Spider-Man places you in a seat and grabs a blanket from the pile that was brought in. You thank him with a soft voice.

“You can get off of my back now,” he tells Kasey. “He won’t hurt you any time soon.”

“No! I think I want to stay here,” she says. Her eyes surveying the side of his head. Her hands rub the side of his mask, “You really are as sturdy as they say. And this suit! It’s so cooling. What’s it made of? Silk?”

“No, it’s- Will you get off of me, please?”

Kasey jumps to the floor, face filled with glee, like she didn’t just get held at gunpoint.

“Where’s my phone? I have to get a picture. Look here! Say ‘whiskey’! Oh, wait, you can’t really smile can you? Can you sign something for me? My friends are going to be so jealous.”

Spider-Man stiffens up as Kacey flits around him like an excited puppy.

You try to be happy for her, but you can’t find Miguel. He said we would be ok.

There’s an old couple by the window, a mom and her son by the bar, a truck driver talking to the police. No Miguel.

“Shock, can you give me a second?” Spider-Man barks as Kasey tries to climb over him again, squealing like a schoolgirl.

“Excuse me,” you tug at his hand that Kasey doesn’t have a grip on, “Have you seen a man, about 6’8 or so? Sweater, khakis, and a lanyard. He- he was with me before the robber came. I don’t see him anywhere.”

“I’m sorry, this is everyone that was here when I came. Maybe he went to get help.”

“Oh, god,” you take in a watery gulp of air. “What if something happened to him out there? He told me he would be ok!”

“Hey, I’m sure wherever he is, he’ll be alright. No need to panic. Everything from here and a few miles out is taken care of. No one else is coming out here in this weather.”

The guy starts to wake up and fight against the webbing.

“I gotta take care of this,” he pulls Kasey off of him. “See you around, ladies.”

“But Spider-Man-”

Oranges, blues, and reds flash before you, Spider-Man flopping the man over his shoulder as he walks through, stoic silhouette disappearing before you.

You sit in horror as everything weighs down on you.

Something, no, someone, was taken from you before it even had a chance to begin.

Kasey’s hands are rubbing on your back as you cry into the blanket in your lab.

You had no idea where Miguel was.

“I’m sure he’s alright,” Kasey whispers to you, “And if not, I’ll kill him.”

A chuckle comes out of you, a bit half-hearted.

The lights of a car beam through the windows, doors slamming as people came rushing through the door.

You look up to Miguel and a man that looked almost identical.

“Miguel!” you run to him, his arms nearly taking you off the ground. “Oh my god, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Your hands shake as you touch across his face. He’s all intact, although still drenched.

“I’m ok, I promised you I would be. I went to go get help.”

“Hot help at that,” Kasey whistles as she looks at the man behind Miguel.

“Are you alright?” Miguel covers the hand you have on your face. “I hope I didn’t give you too much of a scare.”

“I’m better now,” you practically melt into him. “Is that date still on?”

“It was never off. I just need your number now. And we can get out of here, yeah?”

You nod and lean onto his chest listening to his heart sing to you.

It feels familiar.

As always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT! It felt very mysterious to write even thought I didn't really mean for it to be.

[lovexdeepspace]

Hi ! Can you make a story where reader is not the mc and is in relationship with the boys who starts to act cold and indifferent bc of mc ? (i cant choose one i love all of them 😭)

summary; what happens when the l&ds boys have a run-in with the MC that changes everything.

warnings; angst, hurt, strained relations

note; my first request!! thank you so much for the love on my works, i’m so happy i can entertain with my writings!!

!! divider by @cafekitsune !!

༊*·˚ xavier

you were curled up on xavier’s couch, engrossed in some cable drama that you had originally put on for background noise while you tidied. you didn’t even blink when the front door open and shut, signaling xavier’s arrival.

"how was work, xav?" you called, glancing over at him as he tossed his jacket onto the loveseat. you subconsciously leaned over as he approached the couch, your lips pursed as you awaited the usual ‘i missed you’ kiss that became a routine thing. however, he walked right by you and headed to the kitchen, eyes on his phone.

"it was fine," he responded absentmindedly, pocketing his phone and rummaging through the fridge. "i’m real tired, though. think i’m gonna head to bed early tonight."

you turned off the tv and stood, coming up behind him. your arms wrapped around his waist and you pressed your cheek to his back, sliding your hands into the pocket of his hoodie.

"are you okay?" you murmured, giving him a comforting squeeze. "did something happen at work today?"

xavier shut the fridge and put his hands inside the pocket as well, over yours. "i’m okay. just tired is all."

he pulled your hands out of his pocket and turned to face you, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before shuffling off to the bedroom. you frowned and wrote it off as a tough day, thinking it was just a once in a while thing.

until it became an every day sort of thing.

over time it grew more and more obvious that there was something else going on with xavier outside of work — he would come home later, his already kind of spotty communication became worse, and then the affectionate gestures became a chore to him.

you would try to hold his hand? oh, he needs to hold his phone or it's in his pocket suddenly. want a hug? expect one of those brief side-hugs. expecting a kiss? quick peck on the cheek at most.

it was heart-wrenching, watching the man who had loved you like you had hung the moon in the sky for years suddenly stop. the thoughts of where things had gone sour commanded your mind day and night, searching for the answer tirelessly. then, one day, the answer presented itself to you out of the blue.

or, rather, she presented herself to you.

you and xavier were spending a quiet (not by choice) morning in the cafe when a woman approached, calling xavier's name. you noticed the way he straightened and the way his eyes lit up before he quickly covered it up. your heart shattered but you swallowed the hurt, smiling at the woman as she looked between the two of you and introduced herself to you. xavier invited her to sit with you two and she accepted, allowing you front row seats to watch the man who was supposed to love you fall in love with someone else.

༊*·˚ rafayel

work had finished early today, leaving you the afternoon to do as you pleased. seeing as your last mission was located just a couple blocks from rafayel’s studio, you took it upon yourself to pick up some snacks from the cafè to surprise him since he had been working hard for days on end now.

with pastries in hand you walked up the pathway to the mo art studio, a skip in your step as your excitement became palpable. as you go to open the door it swings open for you, revealing not rafayel but a woman you’d never seen before. you faltered for a second as she brushed by you with a muttered apology, heading the way you came.

probably just some fan of his work, you thought to yourself as you headed inside. kicking off your shoes at the entryway, you head for the main room and find rafayel lounging on his couch. he sat upright once he noticed you, squaring his shoulders and forcing a grin.

“you’re here,” is all he said to you, a stark contrast to his usual witty comments on how you just couldn’t seem to stay away for long.

“work ended early, so i thought i’d bring you some snacks,” you replied, placing the paper bag on the coffee table as you took a seat next to him. “how’s the painting coming out?”

“fine,” he replied, digging into the bag and pulling out a tart. you waited for him to continue, to whine and complain about thomas or some media outlet being on his ass about something but nothing followed his curt response.

“so,” you drawled, filling the silence, “another fan found your address?”

rafayel’s brow furrowed and he swallowed before asking, “what do you mean?”

“the woman who left when i came,” you pointed out, a heavy feeling settling in your chest. “a fan of your art?”

rafayel shook his head, leaning back against his couch with a wistful smile. “oh, her? don’t worry about it, just a deepspace hunter looking into some things about my paintings.”

you wanted to not worry — truly you did — but something about the whole thing just didn’t sit right with you. despite the nagging feeling in your mind, you went to place your hand over rafayel’s so you could focus on something else. just as your pinky finger was about to interlock with his, he quickly pulled his hand onto his lap.

with a small nod, you stood and mumbled, “i’m gonna head home.”

you hoped that rafayel would say something — better yet do something — to get you to stay but no, he was off in his own little world, staring out the window at the sea. fighting back tears, you take your leave, slipping on your shoes and heading back towards the streets.

the sunny day was no longer warm and welcoming but hot and suffocating with your heart drowning in pain at the idea of the man you loved with all your being and more having someone else.

༊*·˚ zayne

things between you and zayne had always been kind of like a scale — some days it would lean to one side, some days the other.

he was stoic yet sweet, soft and caring in just the right moments. the times you were together were some of the most blissful times you could ever have imagined. just the right amount of intimacy, domesticity, and partnership that a relationship needed to blossom.

this would be outweighed, however, by the days straight without communication but you always chalked it up to his profession and never really had too much of an issue with how things went. you couldn’t begin to imagine the amount of stress that a doctor took on, especially in the day and age of wanderers. so, like a good partner would, you did all you could to be as supportive as possible in every way he needed.

from homemade lunches to silently holding him in your arms after a rough day, there was nobody better for him than you.

one morning after you had stayed the night, you woke up to a text from him asking if you could deliver his lunch that he’d left on the table. after sending a quick reply to assure him you’d swing by in a bit, you got out of bed and found some clothes folded neatly on top of the dresser for you.

soon after getting yourself together, you grabbed zayne’s lunch and packed one for yourself, deciding that it’d be nice to have a meal together in his office again since it had been some time since the last one. you enjoyed the brisk walk to the hospital, soaking up the early spring sun.

yvonne gave you a polite wave as you walked past the receptionist’s desk and down the hall towards zayne’s office. you knocked once before opening the door, stopping short as you noticed a woman sitting on the couch beside him.

“my bad, i didn’t know you had a patient,” you said with an awkward chuckle before holding up his lunch bag. “brought your —”

“just leave it on the desk,” zayne interrupted, nodding toward the desk in the corner. “thank you.”

“yeah, no problem,” you replied, doing as asked. you stand there for a second longer and zayne cleared his throat, gesturing towards the door. “oh, sorry. i’ll, uh, see you later then?”

your statement switched to a question when zayne raised an eyebrow at you, quickly shutting down any confidence you had. with a curt nod you exited his office and left the hospital, mind clouded as you aimlessly wandered until you found yourself at the park. sitting on a bench you took out your lunch and began to eat until you couldn’t stomach anything anymore with the image of zayne and the woman on the couch burned into your mind.

the way they were shoulder to shoulder; her hand centimeters from his knee; his eyes, usually icy and reserved, looking at her with a sickening fondness that you only saw from time to time; the way he addressed you not as a partner, but as someone who had intruded on something so important to him.

the way he was smitten, fallen in a way you had never seen in the year and some change you’d been together.

[wandascosmic]

standing by (6)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part six of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 4292

tags: best friends to lovers, very very special and cute friendship, reader pining after wanda, oblivious wanda it's almost laughable, believed to be unrequited love, toxic vision (unsurprisingly), honestly might be my favorite part i've written so far, also maybe perhaps some jealous wanda >: ), and the pranks are back!!

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

“Tony,” Wanda knocks on Tony’s office door. “There’s a girl outside who wants to sell handbags.” 

“Kick her out,” Tony responds, barely looking up from his magazine. “No vendors in the office.” 

“Okay, but I told her you’d talk to her at least–” 

“No, Wanda. I’m busy,” Tony cuts her off, putting his feet up on his desk. “Just tell her to go away.” 

Wanda nods, starting to head out the door. 

Once Wanda exits the room, curiosity gets the better of Tony, and he decides to try and see what the person looks like through the window. His mouth parts once he sees that she’s actually rather beautiful. 

“Why didn’t she tell me she was hot,” Tony mutters as he gets up to go and talk to the vendor girl. 

***

You watch in suspicion as Tony smooths his hair back, accompanied by the noticeable bright grin on his face. You follow his gaze all the way to the new girl who came in a few minutes ago, and your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape in realization. 

“Hi, there,” Tony says, making the purse girl turn around and face him. “I’m Tony.” He holds out his hand for her to shake. 

“Valkyrie,” she introduces herself back with a smile. 

“Wow, look at you,” Tony guffaws, clearly checking her out. “You’re, uh, you’re like the new and improved Wanda.” 

Your eyes widen in shock as you and Wanda make eye contact with each other. 

“Um, thank you?” Valkyrie questions. 

“You’re welcome.” Tony grins. “So listen, I usually don’t allow solicitors in the office, but for you, I think we’ll make an exception.” 

Tony was awful at flirting, you quickly realized. 

“Well, thank you very much.” Valkyrie nods politely. 

“Don’t worry about it. But hey, maybe you can make it up to me later with dinner and a movie maybe?” he suggests with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

You snort at his forwardness. 

“Uh–” 

“Anyways, think about it.” He pats her on the shoulder. “So, Valkyrie, you can use the conference room for the day.” He points in the direction of the aforementioned room. “And, I’ll check up on you in an hour or so to make sure you’re settling in. Sound good?” 

“Yes, that would be great, thank you,” Valkyrie responds. 

“Alright, let’s get you settled in then.” He grins, leading her in the right direction. 

Once they’re both out of sight, you go up to talk to Wanda. 

“Ten bucks he ignores all his work for the day to go and flirt with her,” you bet the receptionist, popping a candy from the dish on her desk into your mouth and leaning onto your elbows. 

“Ten bucks he moves the HR staff who are supposed to have a meeting in there into the hallway,” she responds with a smile. 

“Oh, you’re so on, Maximoff.” 

***

“So, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask,” Tony tells Valkyrie, helping her put her bags in place. 

“Well, I guess a cup of coffee would be nice,” Valkyrie answers back politely. 

“Oh! I knew it! I knew I should’ve spotted another addict.” Tony laughs. 

Valkyrie’s brows furrow in confusion. “I’m sorry?” 

“You know, those Dunkin’ Donuts coffee addicts? Man, gotta love it,” he sighs. 

“Regular coffee is fine, honestly,” Valkyrie assures, feeling awkward.

No, no, it’s not,” Tony shakes his head. “Damn it, too bad we don’t have the good stuff here.” 

“No, really, it is,” Valkyrie says. 

“Are you sure?” Tony asks. “‘Cause, you know I could go out to get some for you it’s only like a 30-minute drive–” 

“Really, it’s alright,” Valkyrie cuts off with a small laugh.

“Alright, great!” Tony says, about to head out the door. “I’ll just head on over to the coffee machine in the kitchen, then. Hey, do you want high test or unleaded?” 

“Um, high test?”  

“All right!” Tony says with a grin as he leaves her alone. 

Valkyrie sighs in relief once Tony’s gone. 

***

“So, are you jealous ‘cause there’s another girl around?” Thor asks Wanda as he staples his documents together behind her. 

“No, not really,” Wanda responds absentmindedly, typing on her computer. 

“Are you sure?” ‘Cause she’s prettier than you,” Thor replies with a shrug. 

Wanda pauses. “That’s a very rude thing to say, Thor,” she says slowly. 

You almost laugh at the idea that anyone could ever come near Wanda’s beauty. 

Thor purses his lips and nods, leaving Wanda alone. 

You figure that now is a good time to give Wanda the banana bread you had gotten her this morning after Thor’s comment. Grabbing the dessert from your bag, you walk up to her desk with a small smile on your face.  

“So, what did Thor want?” you ask, knowing the answer already since Thor was anything but soft-spoken. Plus, your desk was only a couple of feet away from hers. 

Wanda scoffs. “Apparently I should be jealous of the purse girl because she spices up the office more than I do.” 

“And are you jealous?” 

“What? No! Of course not.” 

You laugh. “Yeah right, Maximoff. I can see the crinkle you get when you’re upset about something.” 

“I do not have a crinkle.” Wanda leans back and crosses her arms with a pout. 

Your eyes soften at how cute she looks. 

“Fine,” you back down. “But anyways, if you are upset, I did get you something.”

Wanda’s head perks up in curiosity. “What did you get me?” 

You place the white paper bag on her desk. “I may have stopped by that cafe you like this morning and gotten you your favorite dessert.” 

Wanda sits up slightly, peeking into the bag. Once she sees the delectable banana bread she loves so much, a wide smile breaks out on her face. 

“Thank you,” she says softly. 

“Anytime,” you respond, giving her a small wink as you turn around to walk back to your desk. “And by the way.” You stop to look back at her. “No one could ever match how beautiful you are.” You give her a comforting smile before heading back. 

Wanda bites her lip slightly as she watches you get back to work. 

***

“Hey, I’ve got an idea.” Tony knocks on the conference room door to get Valkyrie’s attention. 

“What’s that?” Valkyrie asks, reorganizing the purses slightly on the table. 

“Why don’t I introduce you around? You know, you can kind of get your foot in the door, meet potential clients, stuff like that? Come on.” Tony grabs Valkyrie’s hand as he starts to lead her out of the room. 

“Um, I would love to, but I really shouldn’t leave my purses alone-” 

“Oh! No problem, we can get Peter to watch them. Peter!” Tony calls for the intern. 

“Yes, Mr. Stark?” Peter calls back from the kitchen. 

“Will you watch the purses in the conference room please?” Tony says. 

“Oh, yeah, yeah, of course, no problem!” Peter replies, already sprinting out of the kitchen to go watch the purses. 

“Good kid,” Tony says to Valkyrie who nods in response. “You know, you should sell a lot here.” He says as he leads her through the various areas of the office. “This branch actually made over a million dollars last year.” 

“Wow, that’s impressive,” Valkyrie answers, waving at the people the two of them pass by. 

“Yeah, I know,” Tony brags. “Not that we’re all millionaires though, you know. I’m probably the closest so.” He chuckles.  

“Oh, cool,” Valkyrie replies, feeling slightly uncomfortable. 

“Yup, that’s what we do here at Shield Industries. Oh, here’s Bruce!” Tony introduces a brown-haired man who’s on a call in the break room. “What’s up, Bruce?” Tony punches Bruce’s arm playfully. 

“Tony, I’m on a phone call,” Bruce replies, putting the phone to his shoulder. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, man,” Tony responds, leading Valkyrie to another section of the office. 

***

“So, Y/N, what do you think of the purse girl?” Vision asks you, chewing a bit of his pizza. 

Wanda had invited you to eat lunch with her and Vision, and while you would rather do anything other than have a meal with the girl you were in love with and her fiance, you couldn’t say no to her no matter how hard you tried. 

“Cute, sure, yeah,” you responded, taking a bite of your sandwich. You had told Wanda about your sexuality two years after you had met her, and you assume that the word got out to Vision somehow. 

Little did you know it was because Tony overheard your confession in the break room and despite his lackluster demeanor 90% of the time, he was awful at keeping secrets. 

“Why don’t you get on that?” Vision suggests. 

“Mm, she’s not really my type,” you say, shaking your head and taking a sip of your water. 

“What, you’re not gay anymore?” 

“Vision!” Wanda slaps his arm in shock. “Sorry, Y/N,” she apologizes to you on his behalf. 

“It’s fine, Wanda,” you assure. “I don’t think so, no,” you respond to Vision’s question. 

“Well, what is your type then?” Thor asks from behind you, who had come in to grab his lunch from the fridge. 

You ponder for a moment. “Uh, moms…primarily. Soccer moms, single moms, NASCAR moms. Any type of mom, really.” 

“That’s disgusting,” Vision scoffs. 

“Stay away from my mom,” Thor says as he starts to leave the kitchen.

“Too late, Thor,” you respond, taking another sip of your water. 

Suddenly, you all hear the clack of heels approach, and the three of you turn your head to see Valkyrie walk past you all. 

Vision’s mouth parts slightly as he watches her exit the room. “Man, I would be all over that if I wasn’t dating Wanda,” he tells you, pointing at the doorway where Valkyrie just left. 

Wanda’s stomach drops. 

“Vision,” she states angrily, making him glance down at her. “We’re not dating, we’re engaged.” 

“Engaged, yeah,” he replies nonchalantly with a shrug. 

Wanda scoffs as she drops her fork into her food and storms out of the kitchen, slamming the door shut with a thud. 

Vision rolls his eyes as he takes another bite of his pizza. 

***

“She’d be perfect for you,” you tell Sam, the two of you observing Valkyrie through the conference room window. Truthfully, you didn’t believe an ounce of what you were feeding him. Wanda was still upset after what Vision had said earlier, so you were setting up a prank against Sam in hopes of making her feel better. 

“Mm, she’s been talking to Tony a lot,” Sam says bitterly as he crosses his arms together. 

“So what?” you say as you face him. “You’re assistant regional manager.” 

“Assistant to the regional manager,” Sam corrects you with a frown. 

“Well, you know what, Sam? Sometimes, you’ve just got to go for it. And by the way, Tony’s just your work boss, ok? He is not your relationship boss.” 

“That’s true,” Sam nods. 

“Plus, you have so much more in common with this girl than Tony does. You’re both, um, salesmen,” you point out. “I mean that’s something to talk about right there.” 

“True,” Sam’s eyes widen in realization. “Plus, I could talk to her about the origins of my last name!”

“It’s all gold,” you say, emphasizing your point with a wave of your hand. “But here’s the thing.” You beckon Sam closer with a finger. “Even if it goes horribly wrong, you just keep talking to her, alright? If you hit a stall, you have a perfect fallback.” 

“What’s that?” he asks. 

“You buy a purse,” you instruct. 

“I don’t want a purse, purses are for girls,” Sam says, recoiling slightly. 

“Sam, that’s not necessarily true.” You shake your head. 

Sam scoffs. 

“Do you read GQ?” you ask. 

“No,” he mutters, looking away. 

“That’s fine, I do. They’re like mini briefcases, alright? Lots of guys have ‘em.” 

“Really?” he asks incredulously. “Like those?” He points to the purses through the window. 

“Yes!” you confirm. 

“I don’t know..” 

“Listen,” you get his attention. “You are spending way too much time talking to me when you could be talking to her.” You point to Valkyrie over your shoulder. 

“Okay, fine,” Sam agrees, starting to stand up. “I’m just gonna use the bathroom then-” 

“No, you don’t need the bathroom, alright?” you cut him off, standing up as well. “You’ve got this, Sam. Go for it.” You shove him gently in the direction of the conference room. 

You watch him go in until he can no longer see you, and you smile as you run in the direction of Wanda’s desk. 

“Okay, shh, stop.” You run around Wanda’s desk, gently pulling the phone away from her ear and hanging up the call she’s on. Wanda looks up at you curiously. “Stop whatever you’re doing ‘cause this is gonna be good,” you say as you stand behind Wanda’s chair and swivel it around so she has a clear view of the conference room. 

“What did you do?” Wanda asks suspiciously, a smile starting to appear on her face. 

“You’ll see,” you whisper. 

Once you see Sam start to talk, you begin your imitation. “Hi, my name is Sam Wilson and I would like to buy a purse from you,” you mock in a high-pitched voice. “Good Lord, look at these purses! This is something special.” Wanda giggles. “Oh my God, is this Salvatore Daccini Pa….sta,” you say as you see Sam pick up a random purse. 

“Oh, definitely, definitely step in and out of it like that,” Wanda imitates Valkyrie as you both see Sam step in and out of the purse’s strap. 

“Yes, well I want to stress test it,” you continue your impression. “You know, in case anything happens.” 

Wanda smiles widely as she looks at you. 

“Oh!” you both remark, the two of you struggling to hold in your laughter as you see Sam smack the purse against the table. 

“That was really- this is necessary to do to really give it a good workout,” you say in your high-pitched voice. “This is the– ooh. This is the prettiest one of them all,” you mimic as you see Sam pick up another purse. “I’m gonna be the prettiest girl in the ball. Oh, how much?” you break as you finally start to laugh. 

“Oh, god, it’s sad, it’s so sad,” Wanda remarks with a shake of her head. 

“Yeah,” you say through your laughter. “Oh, here he comes,” you inform her as you see Sam slowly start to walk out of the conference room. 

He turns to give you a thumbs up and you give him one in response as well as mouthe some encouraging words. Sam smirks confidently as he struts back to his desk, the strap of his brand-new hung nicely over his shoulder. 

“He did pick a good one,” you tell Wanda with a smile as you look over to observe Sam’s new handbag. 

“You’re horrible,” Wanda giggles as she looks up at you. 

***

“So, how was that coffee from earlier?” Tony asks Valkyrie as he enters the conference room once more. 

“It was good,” she responds with a small smile. 

“Ah, I knew it,” Tony smirks. “I make the best coffee. Hey, can I show you something?” 

Valkyrie nods. 

“Great, I know you are gonna like this.” He starts to lead her towards his office. “Picked it up today for 1000 big ones.” 

He opens the door for her to enter. 

Valkyrie’s eyes widen as she sees the huge coffee machine set on Tony’s desk. “Um, Tony, you spent 1000 dollars on a new coffee machine just today?” 

“Yep,” he brags with a large grin. “They call it a Digital Barista. It’s the absolute best of the best of the espresso maker variety.” 

Valkyrie laughs awkwardly. “Wow, is that for the office?” 

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking.” Tony points a finger at her. “You’re not prying this out of my hands,” he jokes. “But hey, give it a shot and maybe I’ll give it to you.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Valkyrie answers with a shake of her head. Suddenly, she feels her phone buzz with a new message. Opening it, her brows furrow as she sees the content of the message that was sent. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” Tony asks, seeing her expression. 

Valkyrie looks up. “Oh, nothing, just, my ride bailed on me,” she says. 

“Oh, god! I’m so sorry,” Tony says rather passionately. “That sucks. Um, where you going? Nearby? Because I could give you a ride, you know?” 

“No, no, that’s ok, I don’t wanna inconvenience you and I can just take a Taxi–” 

“No, no, no, it’s not an inconvenience at all!” Tony cuts Valkyrie off. “I mean, I’m out of here at 5:00 sharp, and plus, I am the boss,” he says with his hand at the side of his mouth as if he were telling a secret. “I can go even earlier! Like, whatever, out of here…slaves.” He laughs. 

“Well, I guess that would be ok,” Valkyrie accepts unsurely. 

“Really?” Tony grins. “Well, awesome! 5:00 sharp, I will give you and your purses a ride home, sound good?” 

“Yeah, sounds great,” Valkyrie says as she leaves Tony’s office, grimacing slightly on her way out. 

***

“So did we get any mail?” Tony asks Wanda who sits across from him at his desk. 

“Yeah, I gave it to you,” she responds with a nod of her head. 

“Right, just checking. Just double checking,” Tony says. 

“So can I–” Wanda points to the door over her shoulder. 

“Oh, yeah,” Tony responds, letting her go. “Oh, wait, Wanda, one more thing,” he says as Wanda starts to get up out of her chair. 

Wanda pauses to hear his question. 

“How do girls your age feel about futons?” 

***

“A futon?” you ask Wanda who laughs as she leans against your desk. “Oh my god, he’s a grown man.” 

“That’s what he said,” she says, trying to stifle her laughter.

“That’s sad. That’s so sad,” you say, shaking your head and Wanda giggles. “Or it’s innovative. You know, the futon is a bed and couch all rolled into one.” You twirl your index fingers around each other to imitate a rolling motion. 

Unfortunately, your moment with the receptionist is soon interrupted as you look up to see Vision on his way to talk to Wanda. You sit up sharply, starting to type on your computer as you get back to work. 

“What’s up?” he greets her with his hands in his jacket pockets. 

“Hi,” she replies, keeping her eyes on the ground. 

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks wearily. 

“Vision…” she sighs. 

“Come on,” he says as he starts to tickle her abdomen. 

You bite the inside of your cheek.  

Wanda turns her upper body away slightly. “Cut it out,” she says. 

“Come on, are you mad at me?” he continues, starting to make Wanda jerk in various directions. 

“Stop it,” she responds, but giving in slightly as her voice becomes less stern. 

“Are you still mad at me?” he says in a loving voice. 

“Cut it out,” she replies, though a smile is beginning to appear on her face. 

“Are you mad at me now?” he teases, grinning as she starts to laugh fully. 

“Stop!” she says through her laughs. 

“Huh? Come on,” he continues, tickling her harder and making her giggle even more. “Come on, Wands,” he prompts playfully as she keeps laughing uncontrollably. 

“Stop, I can’t breathe!” Wanda musters out, still jerking around. 

You sigh as you get up from your chair, deciding it’s probably best to leave the couple alone. 

“I was just kidding! You know I didn’t mean it,” you hear him say with a smile. 

You put your hands in your pockets as Wanda continues to laugh with her fiance. 

***

You tap your foot anxiously on the floor, bored out of your mind since Wanda went out with Vision on her break. Swiveling around in your chair, you pause as you see Valkyrie on her own in the conference room. 

Maybe you should go and talk to her? 

You bite your lip slightly, deciding maybe it was time for you to make a new friend in the office. 

But no one could ever beat Wanda. 

Against your better judgement, you decide it might be fun to go and talk to her. Taking a deep breath, you stand up from your chair and head in her direction. 

You knock on the door, making Valkyrie look up at you. 

“Hi,” you say, entering the room with a smile. 

“Hi,” Valkyrie responds, matching your tone. 

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you hold out your hand for her to shake. 

“I’m Valkyrie,” she nods, shaking your outstretched hand. 

“Hi, Valkyrie, nice to meet you,” you say in a friendly manner. 

“Yeah, you too. You sit out there don’t you?” Valkyrie points to your desk through the window. 

“Yes, I do. That’s what I’m best known for,” you joke slightly, making her let out a small laugh. “Alright, let’s talk about purses then.” You drum your fingers on the table in front of you. 

“Okay, um..” She starts to point at the purses on the table. 

“Oh, wait, Valkyrie, but you know what?” you interrupt, causing her to look up at you. “Don’t try to sell me one. Okay, seriously? ‘Cause I’m just here to learn,” you say earnestly before a small smirk breaks out on your face.

“Okay,” Valkyrie nods with a laugh. 

“So, I know about most of these, but..” 

***

“What’s up?” you ask Wanda who leans against your desk. 

“I’m bored,” Wanda responds, giving you a grin. 

“Thank you for choosing me,” you reply amusingly as she laughs. 

“No, I’m kidding,” Wanda says. “So, have you got any plans this weekend?” 

“Uh, well, I think I’m gonna see Valkyrie,” you respond, shrugging your shoulders. 

Wanda’s smile falters slightly. 

“Really?” she asks. 

“Yeah,” you confirm. 

“What are you guys gonna do?” 

“Oh, man, I don’t know,” you sigh. “Uh, dinner, drinks, movie, matching tattoos…” you say the last one with a cheeky smile. 

Wanda chuckles at your joke. 

“Well, that’s great,” she nods, unsure of what the uncomfortable feeling in her chest might be. 

“Yeah, big stuff,” you agree, swiveling around slightly in your chair and pausing for a moment. “What are you up to this weekend?” 

“Oh, um,” Wanda ponders a bit. “I think we’re gonna help Vis’ cousin move.” 

“Okay,” you nod. 

“‘Cause Vis has a truck,” she finishes. 

“That’s cool, that’s really cool, Wanda,” you tell her. 

“Uh-huh. Yes,” Wanda says, suddenly feeling very awkward. 

“But I’ll see you Monday, though, right?” you ask, drumming your fingers at your side. 

“Yeah, uh, you know what? I think I’m gonna head back now,” Wanda says as she stands up, pointing to her desk over her shoulder. 

“Oh, okay. No problem,” you respond with a small smile. 

Wanda nods, turning around and heading back to her workplace. 

Sitting back down, she sighs as she tries to decipher what the uneasy feeling within her might be. 

***

 “Good night, Y/N,” Tony says as he walks next to you and Valkyrie in the parking lot. 

“Good night Tony,” you reply, tossing your car keys up and down. 

“Where you headed?” he asks you. 

“I don’t know, probably grab a drink, I think,” you answer, pointing towards you and Valkyrie. 

“With us?” Tony inquires, stopping in his place as his brows furrow in confusion. 

“Oh shoot, I, um, I probably should have told you. But I don’t need a ride now ‘cause Y/N can take me home after,” Valkyrie tells Tony with an apologetic look.  

“Oh, okay, great,” Tony replies, but you can tell that he feels a bit dejected. 

“Yeah, um, I’m sorry, Tony,” you apologize. 

“No, no worries.” He shakes his head. “Hope you have fun, you two,” he says trying to hide his disappointment. 

Tony starts to turn away, and you frown as you watch his dejected posture. 

“Have a good night, Tony!” you call out, checking to make sure he’s ok. 

“Yeah, you too!” he calls back, though you hear a hint of frustration in his voice.  

“Do you think he’ll be alright?” Valkyrie asks at your side. 

“Yeah, I hope so. If he’s still sad by Monday, I’ll bake him some cupcakes or something,” you respond, grabbing her bags and nodding your head in the direction of your car. 

You start to lead the two of you to your vehicle. “Wow, a baker, huh?” Valkyrie inquires with a smile as she follows your step. 

“Well, I got a lot of free time on my hands,” you respond, opening up your trunk and placing her bags in after moving a couple of your things. 

You don’t notice Vision’s car pull up behind you with Wanda in the passenger seat, immediately sitting up straight as she watches you curiously through the window. 

“All right, I’m gonna warn you. Don’t freak out, okay?” you say to the girl next to you as you shut the trunk. 

“Why?” Valkyrie inquires with a tilt of her head. 

“Well, this is a really nice car,” you say as you walk backward, leading Valkyrie toward the passenger side of your sedan. “In case you haven’t noticed, this is a Corolla, okay?” 

“It’s a very nice car,” Valkyrie compliments with a small laugh. 

Wanda’s sure she wants to slap Valkyrie across the face. 

“So you’re not gonna freak out?” you ask, opening the door for Valkyrie to enter. 

Valkyrie shakes her head with a smile as she sits down in your red vehicle. 

Vision starts to drive away, and Wanda continues to watch the two of you until you disappear from her sight. 

part 7

[dandelions4us]

Party’s Over

Regina George x Reader Summary: Where Regina ends her own party for her cramping lover Words: 1,1k A/N: Is it noticeable I’m having period cramps and need some comfort from the prettiest (and meanest) queen bee of all? I hope not

As the night went on, Y/N couldn’t believe how many more people could crash into her girlfriend’s party. To say the house was full would be an understatement. She sipped on her solo cup, something she could not pinpoint, even if her life depended on it, and searched for Regina with her eyes.

Spotting the blonde head among the croud was easy, though, she could recognize the girl with her eyes closed. She was talking with some people, standing confident in her beautiful maroon dress – it hugged her soft curves perfectly –, her signature smirk adorning her crimson lips and she gently flipped her hair off her shoulder.

Y/N smiled to herself, feeling lucky to have such a wonderful girlfriend. But it faltered quickly as she felt the pressure she knew way too well right at the bottom of her belly. It wasn’t surprising, giving the ache she felt on her lower back since the moment she woke up.

“Fuck.” She mumbles, walking off towards a bathroom to make sure she didn’t just start her period. She didn’t, which was good, as she sighs in relief. Washing her hands and splashing a bit of cold water on her neck, she embraces herself ready to play it cool for a few more hours, not wanting to ruin the party for her girl.

“Hey, I was looking for you. Everything ok?” Regina asks when she finds her, hands gingerly resting or her waist. “Yeah, I’m good. Just went to the bathroom to freshen up a bit.” Y/N smiles, placing her own hands on the blonde’s shoulders.

“Good. Come here, I have a few people I’d like to introduce you.” She responds, kissing her girlfriend quickly before pulling her by the hand to a small group of peers.

To be honest, Y/N did a fairly good job of play pretend for two hours, but it was starting to get to her. The cramps were just getting stronger, making her whole body achy and tense. But she kept her facade as better as she could, not willing to spoil Regina’s fun, knowing she would drop everything to make sure she was fine.

They were now sitting outside by the pool, an array of chairs and couches, talking animatedly with everyone else. I mean, most likely Regina talked and Y/N just agreed and nodded along, smiling every now and then.

When a strong cramp came, she scrunched her face and pressed on the pillow covering her stomach. The blonde must have felt how her body tensed under the hand she had on her girlfriend’s thighs ‘cause she turned her head, a concerned look on her eyes as she looked in hers.

“What’s wrong, baby?” She whispered, her thumb caressing soft shapes where it rested. “It’s nothing, don’t worry.” Y/N tried reassuring, but it wasn’t as convencing as the previous times. Sensing her discomfort, Regina excuses both of them and walks away to a more secluded area, hand now on the small of her partner’s back.

“Wanna try again and tell me what’s bothering you?” She asks softly, looking down with honeyed eyes. Y/N sighs and relents. “It’s just cramps. I have them a few days before my period also. Nothing too bad, I promise.” Right after she ends her sentence, another wave of piercing pain stabs at her womb, making her fold and frown.

“Oh, I can see that.” Her girlfriend says, sarcastically, but sighs, concerned. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I would’ve got you some painkillers and a hot water bottle, maybe also put you to bed.” “Thay’s exactly why.” She furrows her eyebrowns, confused. “I didn’t want you to step out of your own party just to take care of me.”

“That’s nonsense. Baby, I would drop everything to take care of you, gladly.” She takes the shorter girl’s cheek on her hands, soft but firm, to prove her point. “You’re my girlfriend and I love you. Of course taking care of you and making sure you’re ok is my priority. Not some silly party that wouldn’t be as joyful if you weren’t with me, ok?”

Y/N couldn’t help but tear up a bit, but she blamed her hormones. “Okay.” She agreed quietly. Regina smiles, leaning in for a brief but passionate kiss, trying to show all of her love and care through it.

“Now, come on, let’s get you upstairs. Somewhere quieter and confier.” And holding hands, they both walk up Regina’s room. She sat her girlfriend in her bed and then rummages through her closet for comfortable clothes she could wear.

“Here, love. Change into these while I go downstairs to grab you some medicine and put an end to the noise.” She hands her the pile of clothes. “You don't have to end the party just because of me, Gina. I can rest just fine.” She frowns. “Don’t be silly. I’m coming back to cuddle you so there’s no reason to keep randos in my house. So stay put, I’ll be right back.”

She leaves, closing the door and Y/N can’t help but smile like a school girl over her affectionate lover. She changes clothes, relaxing breathing Regina’s perfume on them. She also puts a pad on, just in case her period comes while she sleeps – she’d die of embarrassement if she bleeds on her girl’s bed.

The noise disappears quickly, Y/N can hear the commotion of people leaving and a faint voice of her girlfriend shouting. In about ten minutes, she returns, bearing meds, water and snacks.

“I have no idea where my mom put our water bag and my heating pad broke, so I’m sorry.” “Gina, it’s okay! This is more than I could ask for, thank you.” “Only the best for my baby.” She smiles and walks over to the bed, giving her partner a few pills and the water.

The hurting girl drinks half the water bottle and nibs on the snacks so her stomach wouldn’t be so upset because of the meds and alcohol she consumed.

“There you go. You should rest now. I’m sure you'll be feeling better tomorrow.” She fluff the pillows and covers her sweet girl with the thick duvet before climbing in bed herself (now in her sleep attire).

She scooches closer, tangling their legs as she holds her tight against her chest, kissing her head lovingly.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me, Gina.” Y/N whispers, face nuzzling oh the blonde’s neck. “Of course, baby. You don’t even have to thank me. I’d do it over and over again, just for you.” She responds, one hand scratching her girlfriend’s scalp while the other held her as close as possible.

“I love you.” Y/N says, feeling relaxed, loved and safe. “I love you, too, princess. Sleep tight, I’ll be here when you wake up.” Regina whispers, kissing her temple tenderly.

And just like that, they both fell asleep in each other’s arms, secured in a cocoon built with pure love and care.

A/N: I had to take matters into my own hands. I could not go any longer without more fanfictions of my favorite blonde. Hope you guys liked it! <3

[dreamingofmarauders]

𝐘𝐨𝐮!

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙊𝙣𝙚

James Potter x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Next Part Series Masterlist

Summary: In which James Potter is beyond shocked to see you introduced as the newest Order member. After all, to him, you’re nothing but a cruel, cold, pureblooded Slytherin

Word Count: 1.2K

Warnings: House stereotyping/prejudice (I think that's it, if not, let me know please!)

A/N: The inspiration for this came while I was reading @ellecdc's Sirius Black x Reader series called Come Back, Be Here and it was such an amazing read! Go read it if you haven't already! <33

───※ ·❆· ※───

The Order of the Phoenix, a secret society founded by the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore, was gathered once again in another secret location. All the members were seated in their respective seats, looking at the Headmaster to begin speaking.

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice.” Dumbledore said, his voice bouncing off the walls, “I received a tip that revealed a death eater meeting is to take place tonight, not too far from Diagon Alley.” He said. “I will have to arrange a few members to be sent to scout out the meeting, but before that, I have an important announcement.”

Everyone in the room exchanged glances, a nervousness settling for what could be bad news to be revealed.

“I have recruited a new member, who has already proven what a great asset she will be to our team.”

“Who?” Sirius asked.

Albus Dumbledore gestured towards the door, “Come in.”

You strutted in, dressed in dark clothes with your wand twirling between your fingers as a smile sat upon your lips.

“You!”

And two sets of chairs screeched as two individual wands were directed at you.

“What are you doing here?!” James shouted, Sirius nodding as he backed his best mate.

“Charming. Quite a nice welcome you’ve all prepared for me, Headmaster?”

Dumbledore’s blue eyes twinkled as he directed his gaze from you to the pair of Black and Potter.

“Wands down, boys. Y/n L/n will henceforth be joining us from today.” He said, declaring it to the whole room.

“But, Professor!” James exclaimed, “Y/n’s a Slytherin!”

“Gee, thanks for noticing.”

James glared at you before he turned his eyes onto Dumbledore, his expression having turned into one of desperation. “You can’t possibly let her join!” He practically begged. “They’re all the same, the treacherous snakes can’t be trusted!”

Dumbledore opened his mouth to reply but you beat him to it.

“Well not everyone can be so dimwitted that they would end up in Gryffindor.” You said, making both James and Sirius scowl.

"We are very intelligent, thank you very much!" Sirius interjected, making you shoot a look in return that said are you really though?

“Plus," You continued "Not everyone is the same because even a lion could be a snake in disguise.”

James’ eyebrows furrowed together, “What do you mean to imply by that?”

You merely shrugged, earning a scoff from James.

“That’s enough now.” Professor McGonagall called out sternly, making both you and James fall quiet and take your seats.

“Now that we have exchanged small pleasantries,” James and you loudly scoffed, “Onto the mission. I will be sending out Remus Lupin, James Potter, Benjy Fenwick, Dorcas Meadowes and Y/n L/n.” Dumbledore gently smiled, “This tip was given by Y/n herself and this proves how much of a help Y/n’s addition to the Order will be.

A cry of protest sounded from the young Potter, “Headmaster! How can you believe her? For all we know, she could be sending us into a death trap!” James exclaimed, glaring at you, who stood up with a scoff.

“And that is the exact reason I am coming along! If something happens, I will be there too!”

“Nope! Not happening! Headmaster, I refuse to go if she goes!” James said.

“Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said, “Stop behaving so childish. Miss. L/n will be going and that is final.”

James grumbled and muttered, “Fine.” Knowing by now that Professor McGonagall could get real scary when she needed to be.

“Good, now get going.”

James glared your way to which you only smirked at him, irking the young Potter even more.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

The mission was partially successful as like the tip you had given, there was a death eater meeting. However, they sensed the presence of Order members too early and before you all could even cast a spell their way, they had gone.

Most of the Order had been kind and accepted you in, after all, if Dumbledore trusted you, what reason did they have not to? Well, everyone except for Sirius Black and James Potter. 

Especially James Potter.

He loathed you. Simple as that. Your mere existence irked him, like it has been since your shared days at Hogwarts. You always had a way that managed to annoy him, and he had been always determined to get under your skin every time he caught sight of you within the castle.

James wasn’t sure when it started but the interactions between the two of you had become frequent since fifth year. He despised you for being a Slytherin, after all you were just like the rest, acting as if you were superior. But it was also the way you winked at him or that teasing smile that crawled onto your lips. Or how you would speak in a playful tone, flicking your hair over your shoulder every time you walked away or how you twirled your wand teasingly between your nimble fingers.

It infuriated him.

Everything about you annoyed James Potter to no end.

Henceforth, why he was so against your arrival into the Order and how he was determined to get at you every chance he could get.

"Wow, L/n, I'm surprised you haven't melted yet." James said later one evening at an Order meeting.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, "Meaning?"

"Meaning my burning hatred towards you, I was expecting you to have skedaddled out of here."

You gave him a weird look, "Well, that genuinely made no sense, Potter. Now excuse me." You said, returning to your conversation with Remus.

James grumbled, turning towards his best mate, "Moony! Stop hanging out with her!"

Remus let out an exasperated sigh, "Listen, Prongs, I love having you as a friend, truly I do, but if you're going to keep this up, I won't hesitate to hex your arse off the planet."

James stared at his best friend, dumbfounded, while you doubled over laughing.

"Moony," James muttered out hollowly, "How could you? You're my best friend!" He accused Remus in an over dramatic manner.

"And Y/n is also a friend of mine."

This threw James off completely, "She's WHAT!?"

"A friend. She was nothing but polite to me throughout school and I have no reason to be rude to her."

You shot Remus a smile of gratitude before moving your gaze to James, eyes turning cold as you stood up.

"I love to annoy you, truly, but I find it unfair how you're always taking out what most of my house has done against me. Not everyone is the same. I'm not like them." You breathed out, your voice wavering near the end.

James suddenly felt a weird sensation wash over him and he watched you turn around and go.

"Mate," James looked at his friend, his attention snapping from you to Remus, "You don't need to be so mean to her. She has gone through a lot."

James scoffed loudly, "I doubt that."

Remus gave his friend an expression of what looked like pity and exasperation. He patted James on the shoulder before walking away. James stood there, lost within his own thoughts. He shook his head vigorously after a few seconds.

No, to him you were merely one of them. You were from a family of death eaters. You were from the house that turned out all the dark wizards. You were just one of them and nothing more. And he hated them all.

"I hate you." He whispered.

Although, James' perception about you would be challenged as the next Order mission would bring an unexpected twist.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

A/N: Ok, so I had this idea of this one scene and I was planning on just a oneshot but instead I decided to go ahead and make a mini series, just so I can write more about James and Reader in this enemies to lovers sort of trope. I've never really written for James before, so I hope you all liked it and stay tuned for the next one because it's going to be good! Love you all and take care! <33

Love, Serina ❤

[ggidolsmuts]

Our Love Language is Sex - ITZY Ryujin

"Woojin sunbae, I think I like you..."

No Ryujin, what are you doing? You told her to tell him how she felt, not tell him how she felt in front of everyone else! You can't see her expression from behind, but the sunbae's lip lifts to one side in disgust.

"What? Ew, no. Sorry Ryujin." His tone was anything but sorry.

"Damn, I'm jealous bro." One of his mates said.

"Yeah? You can have her then, how about it Ryujin?" The way the love of her young life offers her away so easily shatters her heart, and she sniffles and runs. His words as she leaves rings in her ear, stinging her as she leaves.

"Guess not, sorry bro." You hurry to catch up to her, finding her crying in a classroom. Quietly you slide the door open and close it behind you.

"Ryujin... You okay?"

"Obviously, fucking, not!" She turns to face you, her sadness stained with anger. "It's all your fault!"

"My fault?"

"You said to tell him how I felt!"

"Yeah, but not in front of everyone! Find a private spot or something, like here!"

"You should have said that then!" Ryujin shouts back at you, landing a punch on your chest. "How was I supposed to know?"

"I thought you would have some sense! Fuck you're thick sometimes."

"Fine I'm thick, just go and fuck off then!" Your back hits the wall as she pushes you away. Damn it, you were here to comfort her, not get angry at her!

"Ryujin that's not what I meant."

"I don't care! I don't want to see you!"

"Come on Ryujin." You grab her wrist, and she flings her arm to get you off, catching you in the face.

"Oh shit, I'm— I'm telling you to go away!" she shouts. Her blood runs cold looking at your stunned expression. She should have apologized, why didn't she apologize! "I mean I'm—"

"I get it, I'm sorry I came." You turn around and exit the classroom, slamming the door shut.

-----

You barely speak to Ryujin in school after, and you graduate and move on with your life just like she has. 

Until today.

You knew your company was engaging ITZY as a spokesperson for their products, and you saw their commercials pop up in your office sometimes, but you never expected to see them in your office.

"All in us, we are ITZY! Thanks for having us!" Your coworkers cheer and clap. The members proceed to introduce themselves.

"Hello, I'm Ryujin, nice to meet everyone!" You blink and confirm what, or rather who you are seeing—not just ITZY's Ryujin, but the Ryujin who you went to school with all those years ago. You had heard that she became a trainee, but you never made the connection, that ITZY's Ryujin and your Ryujin were one and the same. Her appearance on the commercials and posters seemed familiar, but you never gave it much thought.

Ryujin scans the crowd, used to the wall of phones staring right back at her. Oddly enough, someone is watching without their phone up—maybe he doesn't know who they are. He's staring right at her, through her, and the face is suddenly familiar.

No way.

Your gaze catches Ryujin's, and her eyes widen in recogniztion, mouth opening slightly, as if to call out. Hurriedly you nod and bow slightly, and Ryujin gives a small nod in return, a puzzled expression briefly on her face before she quickly goes back to being a professional idol and smiling for the cameras.

After sweeping the room with a smile, Ryujin looks back to where he stood just a moment ago, only to find him gone. That was surely him! She scans the crowd of office workers, but everyone else has a phone up. Where did he go? The rest of the schedule goes as normal—a couple of office workers ask her to sign a few personal items, but not him.

"Manager oppa, let me use the washroom real quick."

"Sure, we'll wait in the lobby."

A few hurried steps—where did he go, he can't have gone far!

"Ryujin-ssi, are you looking for something?"

"Yes I—" She interrupts herself, hearing his name behind her.

"Hey, you just missed out on ITZY, can you believe they were here?! Whoa!" Ryujin surprises both you and and your fanboying co-worker. "Oh my god hello!"

"Ah yes, hello!" She greets him nicely before bringing her gaze to you. "Hey."

"Oh, yeah umm, hey. It's been a while."

"Mmhmm."

"Wait, you know him Ryujin-ssi?"

"Yeah, we were classmates, if you could excuse us."

"Oh, of course! Would you mind signing this—" Ryujin grabs his notebook and signs it quickly, and you get a jovial and envious nudge from your co-worker before you are left alone with her.

"How have you been?" Ryujin asks softly.

"Good," you reply succintly. Never has a single word so poorly summarized your life since that moment years ago. Suddenly you had no one to gossip with, no one to share secrets with, no one to veg out with on slow weekend afternoons.

----- 

"If you think about it, clouds are just leaky water balloons." Ryujin mutters as she lays next to you.

"What? That makes no sense." You shoot back.

"Just like you having a crush on that girl, Jisoo? What do you even see in her?"

"Oh, so now we're back on that? She seems nice, and she's cute!"

"Aish, I just don't like her. And since when did you like cute? You hated my aegyo, what if Woojin oppa likes it?"

"Him?" All he wants is to get with you! You couldn't bring yourself to say that. "He likes the sexy style. Guys are all perverts."

"Just like you right? I know you go mad at any girl who shakes her hips hmm? Anyways I'm sure Woojin oppa is different! If I'm sincere he'll feel it!"

"Yeah sure, go try that if you want." Sometimes you're so naive! You didn't add.

"Fine I will, hmph!"

-----

"How about you? Your group's doing well." he asks her. How was it for her, Ryujin thinks to herself... And seeing him for the first time in years, she remembers it sucked.

-----

"Ryujin, are you okay? Should I let the teacher know you can't do the trainee evaluation tomorrow?"

"Yes Yeji-unnie, it's just a cold, I can do the evaluation tomorrow, I have to," she manages to suppress a sniffle from beneath the covers. She pulls out the phone she hid inside her pillowcase, careful to not let any light leak out into the room. Her thumbs work on muscle memory—she needs to talk to someone. It stops at a familiar name, but it belongs to someone she could no longer talk to. Ryujin's lips quiver—it has been weeks since then, and he hasn't even reached out once! Yet she couldn't bring herself to be the one to reach out. She taps the phone against her forehead and hides a sob with a sniffle.

"Do you want some medicine?"

"No, I'm okay, thank you unnie, good night!"

"If you say so, good night."

Ryujin turns the phone off and slides it back under her pillow.

Just one message from you...

-----

"Yeah, it's all thanks to our fans."

"Nice, congratulations."

"Hmm? What for?"

"I dunno, I see ITZY winning a lot of stuff, I guess? I just never realized it was you, you look pre— I mean, your hair is very different now."

What was that? "O-Oh, yes, idol hairstyles, you know how it is." No of course he doesn't! Ryujin berates herself.

"Right..." There is an awkward silence, broken only by the sound of a manager or bodyguard calling out for her. "You should go, good to see you though."

"Yeah, yeah." Ryujin takes a quick peek around the corner and winces. "Hey, give me your phone!" You hand her your device, and she does a few quick taps.

"Ryujin-ssi?" A burly voice calls out.

"Yes I'm coming! Sorry I couldn't find the washroom!" She hurriedly calls out before returning you your phone. "Thanks, bye!" She disappears from sight around the corner, sounding all apologetic to the voice as they grow more distant.

You look down at your phone, it is a text to an unknown number, but clearly addressed to you.

*That's my number, I'll message you*

The old you would not have recognized the current you, going to your phone immediately when you hear it buzz, like you were a technology-addicted teenager once more. It had been months since you met Ryujin again, and things have been mending silently and slowly. She would text you, you would text back. You would see her group win one award or another, you would text her, and she would text back, albeit heavily delayed. Without seeing her in person, it is easy to forget what had happened between the two of you, and you are just glad to be messaging your old friend again. That is, until you see the current message buzzing on your phone.

*Hey, are you free for a coffee?*

You are in a cafe a few days later, one of the few still open late at night. You sit down across someone trying to be anonymous, donning a mask, cap, and a hoodie over all that. But you know she's Ryujin.

"Hey, at least take the mask off, do you know how much you stand out, someone who's wearing a mask, sitting in a cafe?"

"I was just waiting for you."

"Sure. What do you want, I'll go order."

"Just the usual—" Ryujin freezes. It has been so long, and yet reflexively she tosses out her order, like they are just doing a study session at a cafe near school instead, all those years ago.

"Sure." She stares at him walking away, and a thought strikes her—is he still the same?

The answer arrives along with her coffee as you sit down across from her, one arm across your chest, the other occupied with drinking coffee, one leg perched and crossed—defensive, guarded, cold.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"I-I just wanted to catch up. It's been so long since we talked."

"And whose fault is that?" A chill goes down her spine, and it wasn't from the ice in her drink—it would not be a jovial reunion. Ryujin tries to keep it light.

"Are you still on about that? Come on, that was so long ago."

"Oh, so at least you haven't forgotten about it, I guess that's good." Each word is a heavy blow on her heart. "So why did you ask me here?"

"I was just wondering how you've been—"

"Now that you've remembered I exist? But never thought to reach out before that hmm? I should send my thanks to JYP for signing that deal."

"What? You could have reached out too!" Ryujin already felt guilty, and now she felt stung too by your barbs.

"Yes, but I didn't, because you asked me not to! You told me to go away." you hiss back. "And now that you want to talk to me again, you just reach out to me like nothing has happened?"

"What was I supposed to do? I was busy with being a trainee! I'm sorry okay? I should have said that then."

"Well you can stay busy being an idol then!" You jerk your head in self-annoyance—you were a little too loud, and people turn to look, making Ryujin tilt her head lower. "Come on, let's go." She nods and follows you out the door.

"I'm really sorry, I should have said that right after I hit you. I was just happy to see you again, I didn't think about how you felt."

"I'm... not unhappy to see you again, but I don't know if I can handle meeting you like nothing has happened."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Nothing, just give me time, it's one thing to text someone on the phone, it's another to see them again."

"How much time do you need?"

"Hopefully less than a few years—" you catch your own snide remark as you hear Ryujin sniffle, and it wasn't that cold out. "Sorry, that was low, I don't know."

"At least you said it right away," Ryujin bitterly jokes to herself. You shrug and pat her on her shoulder in goodbye.

"Good luck on your comeback."

After a long while Ryujin takes a sip of her bitter coffee, except now it is salty. How did it all go so wrong, how was she so completely off?

Ryujin drowns herself in her work, proving his words right as she stays busy being an idol. Every so often her members catch a small smile before the sides of her lips flatten out—she still exchanged messages with him, but they were more iced Americano than hot chocolate. Many times she debated just sending a message, asking him if they could meet, but fearful of rejection, she could never bring herself to.

"What's up?" Yeji asks, sitting down next to her. "You keep smiling and then frowning at your phone."

"You know that guy I met at that event? The one I said I knew from school?"

"Yeah, at that company thing? You said you were close friends."

"We were, but I did something back then, and now we're not close anymore." She spills her history with him to Yeji.

"That's it? I mean, if he's still holding a grudge then fuck him."

"Yeah but, he's not wrong. We were close, I hit him, and I never even said sorry until now."

"You did say sorry this time right?"

"Yes, he said he needed time."

"Just give him time then, he has his life, if he wants you back in his life, then he'll let you know. Or if you want him back in yours, just reach out and ask, you don't know if you don't ask. But it's not like he has been a part of yours for years now right?"

"I guess."

"Exactly, at least you're texting with him now, he hasn't ghosted you, that should count for something!"

"No you're right, you're right, thanks unnie." Ryujin steels herself as Yeji leaves her room. She can do this, it's just one text, she's not asking him out on a date, she just wants to catch up! Maybe she can ask him out for drinks, maybe with other people around so that it won't get awkward, she can do that! But... maybe next week! First she has to look up when the next company hweshik is, yes, the message can wait.

"Hey, say hi, this is my old friend, I've known him since forever!" Ryujin introduces you to her group, pushing you down between two of her members before sitting down opposite you. Introductions go around, and you recognize the two members next to you as Yeji and Chaeryeong. Food and drinks arrive, although it seems like Ryujin is the only one drinking, and the atmosphere remains awkward—when Ryujin asked to catch up over drinks you assumed it would be a quiet thing, and certainly not in a group setting.

"Yah, don't try to be an idol around him and just take little sips, he's seen me do stupid stuff before, just drink!" Yeji and Chaeryeong start off slow, but soon they begin to take swigs, and you begin to do the same, and as the alcohol begins to flow, so does the conversation.

"So what was Ryujin like in school? Did she study at all, I bet she didn't!" Chaeryeong jokes.

"No no, she did study, she studied my homework." You joke, to raucous laughter from the ITZY members and staff.

"No I didn't, I even did better than you on exams!" But of course, no one listens to her. She is mollified after some placating from her members and more food on her plate, and the conversation flows on until the inevitable question.

"So, who's your favorite member in ITZY?" Chaeryeong asks, giggles bubbling out of her. It sparks a titter around you.

"Yah that's so boring!" "You're just saying that because you won't win!" "You're just saying that because he knows you!" "Says the one who spent 15 minutes choosing an outfit!" "Says the one who spent 30 minutes on make up today!" Ryujin blushes at the last comment—did she really spend 30 minutes on makeup today?

You save her the embarrassment by calming them down.

"I'll be honest, it's very nice to meet all of you, but I don't really know enough about any of you? So I guess all of you are my favorites?"

"Boo, cop out, drink! What if you had to choose? Like, I'll pay for your dinner today if you choose."

"Yeji unnie, don't make him pay for his dinner today! I'll cover you." Ryujin hastily butts in.

"Sure sure, I'll buy a second round of drinks if you choose." Ryujin makes to say something, but ultimately she has no retort and waits with the rest of them.

"I guess... since I know her the best, I'll go with Ryujin?" She pumps her fist, and rewards you with a healthy serving of grilled meat.

"Psh, wow, you gave the default answer. What if Ryujin isn't a choice, or who would be number two?"

"I guess number two would be—" your answer is drowned out by a roar as you see JYP the man himself, get on top of a table and start dancing, complete with plastic table sheet around his waist. The rest of the dinner and drinks flyby, and soon it is time to leave.

"It's nice to meet you all—" you start, but Ryujin cuts you off and throws an arm over your shoulder.

"No no, we're going to go for a round two, we need to catch up!"

"You can't Ryujin! We should go back home."

"No! I want a round two!" She yells, more than a little tipsy.

"You can't be seen in public like this!"

"I'll just drink at his house then!" She jerks a thumb in your direction. Their manager protests against it, and Ryujin yells back, but ultimately Yeji steps in.

"It's fine manager oppa, just let them catch up." After gently pushing the manager away Yeji turns to you. "Just go straight home with her okay? Take a taxi, make sure you two don't drink in public, and remind her to take a taxi back."

"Got it, I'll make sure she stays out of trouble." With that you half-walk and half-lurch with Ryujin into the back of a cab and back to your place. You open the door and Ryujin makes herself at home.

"Wow, living by yourself and everything, you've made it!"

"At least take your shoes off Ryujin!" They thud on your floor.

"Surely you have beer right?"

"Yeah, but all you get is one can."

"Cheapskate!"

"Fine, two cans." You grab four cans and sit down opposite her, and as you do so the alcohol suddenly hits you—you must have had more than you realized.

"Yah, so really, who would you choose from our members? Who's your favorite?" Ryujin asks him.

"What? How are you still on that?"

"Would you really choose me?" She persists, pestering and provoking you for an answer. She scoots herself closer. "Am I your favorite, am I the prettiest?"

"Well you did spend 30 minutes on makeup, so I guess?"

"Really? Awwww!" Ryujin clings on to him tightly.

"God of course you're a clingy drunk!" You try to break out of the embrace, but unfortunately you pause when you see Ryujin close up—she really is pretty tonight. Silently the two of you stare at one another, dual gazes dueling.

"Hey, you ever think... that we should have gotten together?" Ryujin whispers.

"What?"

"We had to deal with so many rumors back then, remember? Everyone thought we were dating."

"Idiots, all of them."

"You never considered it? I have..." She's an inch from you, maybe not even that. "I would have—" Ryujin crumples in your arms and passes out.

-----

"Argh, the girls are all saying I'm going out with you!"

"So?"

"Well we're not!"

"Exactly, so who cares?" You shrug and return to your video game.

"Me!"

"Why? Do you want us to go out so that it's true?" You are blind to Ryujin's blush, just as you get flashbanged in game.

"No that's not the point! It's about my image!"

"Sure sure, I don't have an image so I don't care. Let me know if you want us to go out."

"How can you joke about something like that!" She leaves in a huff, slamming the door behind her.

"Tch, I didn't say no did I?" You mutter under your breath.

----- 

Ryujin blinks and rubs the sleep from her eyes. She tries to get up, only to be suddenly aware of a firm arm around her.

"Mmm, just a little longer." The warm heat of his chest flows straight into her back. The hot breath on her neck makes her all warm and... tingly.

"Hey..." She whispers. "I need to go."

"No, stay—" you finally process the voice and your eyes snap open, to the back of someone's head, someone you knew far too well. "Ryujin? Dah!" You hurriedly let her go as she pushes herself away. "What happened last night?"

"I don't remember." She sits up and runs a hand through her hair. "Do you?"

"No, we sat down with beers, and then nothing after that."

"Ugh... Did we—" she checks herself, breathing a sigh of relief as she finds herself fully clothed.

"Of course not!"

"Yeah, like you're the one who has the most to lose here!" Ryujin fires back.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"The members will know I stayed the night, what do you think they'll think?"

"Just tell them the truth, we did nothing and you spooned me!"

"I? Spooned you? No no, the big spoon is the one doing the spooning, you spooned me."

"No, that's called a normal sleeping position, I wouldn't be spooning you if you didn't back yourself into me, little spoon."

"I'm not little— Whatever, I don't have time to argue, I have to go."

"Fine. Why did you even want to meet up?"

"What?" Ryujin asks, distracted and putting on her sneakers.

"You wanted to catch up, I came, except it was your hweshik? Like why?"

"I-I thought it would be a more casual setting, that's all."

"I mean, you're not wrong, but we ended up too drunk to talk after."

"Okay I'm sorry, let's meet up some other time, just us okay?"

"I'll hold you to do that." Ryujin waves goodbye, leaving the two of you annoyed and... frustrated, in more ways than one.

It is weeks later when Ryujin reaches out, and you begrudgingly agree to meet up yet again. You are more than slightly annoyed when you see someone sitting next to her.

"Ye... Ji, right?"

"Yes, you remembered!" Ryujin exclaims delightedly. "That saves me on introductions, I'll be right back!"  With that she's already off to order coffee for everyone. You greet Yeji with an awkward smile.

"How are you?"

"I'm good, you? It's good to meet you again, I was afraid Ryujin killed you after she didn't come back that night," Yeji jokes.

"We didn't do anything." You say automatically. "But that's a huge jump to make."

"Well, she came back with a guilty smile, like she enjoyed whatever she did that night. Her hair and makeup was fine, so clearly you didn't make a move on her—"

"I wouldn't make a move—"

"Which is so crazy to me, that her offing you isn't as large a jump to make."

"Ryujin's not—" Yeji's raised eyebrow stops you in your tracks. "I don't think of her that way."

"Really? She'll make you then, when she finally figures out she wants to."

You were about to ask what she meant, when Ryujin returns with the drinks. She puts your usual coffee order in front of you and sits down next to Yeji.

"So unnie, what do you think? Do you like him?"

"What?" You and Yeji nearly spit your drinks out.

"What are you talking about, isn't he your style?" Ryujin turns red and nearly spits her own drink out.

"No! He's my friend! I-I thought you were looking for someone unnie!"

"Keep your voice down!"

"Ryujin what are you doing? I never asked you about Yeji." You nod your head slightly towards Yeji. "Sorry, didn't mean it like that, I just don't know you well at all." She dismisses you with a kind smile, or so you thought, but the smile was for other reasons.

"None taken." God I am looking at two idiots.

"You have to start somewhere don't you?" Suddenly thirsty, Ryujin's drink is almost gone already. "You're not... in a relationship are you?"

"No I'm not, but you can't spring something like this on people."

"He's right you know. You don't just randomly bring people together without them knowing and expecting something to happen."

"Okay so I missed a step, I thought it would be a good idea."

"I'm heading out," you say with finality, finishing the rest of your drink with a shudder—ugh, brain freeze. "Ryujin, if you want to catch up, I'm more than happy to, but I don't know why you're pussyfooting around me about just talking one-on-one. I'm more than happy to get to know Yeji if you would just tell me, or tell her, for that matter, beforehand."

"Sit." Just as firmly as he left them, Yeji sits Ryujin down once they return to the dorms. "So, why did you make up that stuff about me? You're going to use your unnie without telling her?"

"Sorry! I just felt that it would be too awkward with just the two of us."

"I thought you two are old friends."

"We are, but it's different now, we grew up, things change."

"You like him, he is your style."

"What? No that's not what's happening here."

"Please Ryujin, it's been weeks, months even, since you first saw him again, any other guy that didn't show interest you would have moved on, and yet here you are, you spent a night with him—"

"We didn't—"

"Let me finish," Yeji warns in her I'm-the-leader tone. "You spent a night and didn't do anything with him, and yet you are using your dear unnie as an excuse to see him again. It's one thing if the sex is good and you want an excuse to see him again, it's another if you two haven't slept together yet."

"We did sleep together! He spooned me!" Ryujin says defensively.

"You two really are cute little idiots. I don't know what is going on between the two of you, but here, I will book a nice hotel suite with two nice king-sized beds. You two can go there and have a nice conversation, make things not awkward, and if you're really just friends with him, you can each spend the night on a nice big comfy bed. If not, feel free to not sleep in one bed together, naked!"

"Yeji unnie!"

"You're being foolish, and so is he."

"What?"

"He cares enough to text you first sometimes, so he's not disinterested. All I'm saying is, you put not a boy and a girl, but a man and a woman, in a hotel room, and things may just turn out fine." Yeji pats Ryujin on the head. "Just let me prepare everything, and I'll tell you when okay?"

"Yes unnie."

You should have realized that something was up when Ryujin invited you to a hotel. You gave her the benefit of the doubt when you see Yeji meeting you in front of the hotel ("She insisted I show you to the room, that's all, I'm not staying."). You probably shouldn't have when you realize you were going up to a suite.

"What's going on?" you ask Yeji right outside the door. "Ryujin can afford this?"

"She can, but I paid for this. As the leader I feel partially responsible about what she did to you last time, so I set up the two of you to have a night in, just like old times. Movies, snacks, games, you name it!"

"I wasn't planning on staying a night here, I thought it would be at a restaurant or something."

"It's okay, I just thought a room would be quieter than a restaurant, you don't have to stay the night if you don't want to."

"I see, thanks, I guess. Where's Ryujin?" 

"She's in there already, go ahead." Yeji gives you a pat on your back as she leaves, and you wait for the ding of the elevator before knocking.

"Hey."

"Hey, thanks for coming."

"Sure. Whoa, Yeji really did prepare everything." That she did, a huge spread of snacks, food, and a counter of various coffees, soft drinks, and alcohol—looks like you wouldn't need to order room service. "So, what should we do first?"

"I don't know, game? What did we do back then?" Ryujin asks, fumbling with her bag of chips.

"Watch a movie? Or TV?" That sounded good, so you scooped up some snacks and joined Ryujin on the sofa in the "living room" of the suite. You see two Ryujins in the room.

"Whoa, what's that?" You ask, nodding to the TV.

"Oh, it's nothing, was just monitoring a recent performance."

"Monitoring?"

"Like, watching yourself, checking for mistakes, stuff like that."

"That sounds... a little narcisstic no? Watching your own performances?"

"It's just something we do." Ryujin tries to close the video, but you stop her.

"Can we watch? I've never seen you perform before actually." She hesitates for a moment but presses play. Ryujin sits down next to you, slightly tense—how would you react? To her bemused delight, the questions incoming are very naive.

"You are showing a lot of skin." "Uhh yeah, that's kinda in the job description."

"And... isn't it a little too tight?" "Again, also in the job description."

"When was this performance again?" "Like a week ago?" "How come your hair looks so different now?" "I go to the salon, you do know that there's more to hairstyles than cutting right?" She reaches for his hair before he reacts.

"You haven't done anything to your hair have you, even the hairstyle is the same. Touch my hair." Her heart skips a beat when his fingers brush her hair.

"Whoa, why does it feel like that?"

"There's a lot you can do to it, most are not great for the hair, but hey, we need to show different styles, and hair is the easiest way to do it." He runs his digits through her hair, and Ryujin shudders at the sensation—it was weirdly hot.

"Sorry, does it hurt?"

"N-No, but you should stop."

"Right, sorry."

"No problem, any more questions, or can we watch something that's not me?"

"Sure sure, just... wow that's a very different line work."

"Yeah. What do you want to watch?"

"Wait, sorry one last question." You lean in and squint at the video, and then glance at Ryujin. "How long does it take for you to look like that on stage? Just the makeup."

"About umm, 40 minutes, an hour. maybe more?"

"Really? And how much time did you spend today?"

"Like 20 minutes?"

"And last time was 30 minutes?"

"You don't have to remind me about that."

"Yes yes, but you probably don't need to spend that much time on makeup. You should tell your stylists that." It takes a moment for Ryujin to process the compliment, and she blushes a deep red, overpowering what makeup she had on.

"T-Thanks, I'll let them know."

"I um, yeah, no problem, just saying." You stutter a little, realizing how weird that sounded coming from you. "Should we watch a movie, or drama?"

"Umm yeah, how about a movie?" Ryujin starts one, but neither of you really notice what's on screen. Instead, the two of you talk and talk and talk—your interest in her work prompts her own curiosity, and she asks about your job, about your life. You swap stories, and although you feel like Ryujin's getting the short end of the stick—your stories pale in comparison to the entertainment industry's wild rumors, she is equally enthused all the same—more importantly you're finally catching up with her. Inevitably the times you're talking about go backwards in time.

"Remeber when—"

"Yeah, or when he—"

"Who was our maths teacher again, Miss—"

"Did you know that he had a crush on you?" "No way! Really? That explains a lot." "What happened?" "He always wanted to be in my group, even though I don't do anything for projects. He was very nice, but he didn't ask me out in the end."

"Wait, he did all that? When was this? How come I don't remember this? What if he did ask you?" Ryujin taps her chin thoughtfully at his question.

"Would I have said yes? I dunno, we got along but we never clicked."

"Huh, but seriously when was this, I don't remember this at all." She watches him frowning, looking up at the ceiling and trying to remember, and she realizes why he couldn't, and wouldn't, be able to remember.

"Oh, it's because I never told you, because we, you know."

"Oh. Right." And there it is, finally the topic broached.

"I'm really sorry that I hit you, I should have said sorry back then, and it cost us both a lot. I still regret it even now."

"I don't blame you Ryujin, I should have reached out again, but I was childish. I did exactly what you told me to, even though that isn't what either of us actually wanted." He puts a hand on her shoulder, an olive branch. "We should move on from that, okay? No more doing stupid stuff like inviting me to a blind date without either party knowing."

"Okay, sorry, sorry. Now never bring that up again, please."

"Yes, let's just watch the movie. Make sure you turn off your phone so that you won't arrange another one for me." Ryujin throws a cushion at you, but you grab it and hand it back to her, and she hugs it against her chest as the two of you settle into the couch. You two end up closer and closer together, until you're shoulder-to-shoulder with her, her head lightly resting on yours, just like the old days.

But the movie the two of you are watching are definitely not age-appropriate for the old days, as the male and female leads struggle against one another, locked in a fevered and contentious argumentative embrace, until they give into each other. He pins her against the wall, she pulls her top off and wraps her arms around his neck.

"Ahh, mmm!" He presses himself into her, his hands tight around her waist. Her hips wriggle, bucking against him as he slips his hand under her shorts. A short gasp. She pulls off his shirt, revealing his chiseled chest and muscular arms—

Oh yes! The screen reflects off Ryujin's irises, but she's playing her own scene in her head. Of her with someone, with said someone right next to her. She squirms a little, and suddenly notices two things—that she's tense, holding her breath; and that he's tense, and holding his breath; scratch that, make that three things she notices—she's wet, the inside of her thighs sticky with need. She needs to get out before they—

"This movie's boring, we should watch something else," he rasps.

"Y-Yeah, let's watch something else. Hah even when we were young you never liked the R-rated scenes." she jokes, hoping to lighten the palpable tension.

"Then why did you agree with me? The old you would have made sure we kept watching. Let's keep watching then." You jostle her, making sure to keep a cushion over your lap.

"No, let's not, it's weird watching it with a guy."

"Oh, so now I'm a guy? Do you see me as a man? Are you interested in me, hm hm hm?" you play it off as a joke, but you are taken aback at Ryujin's lack of outraged denial.

"Why, are you interested in me?" Ryujin panics, and with the situation getting out of hand, she tries to solve it the only way she knows how—by throwing it back harder. "Now that I'm in a girl group, you're interested in me now aren't you? Did you enjoy my fancams just now?"

"N-No, of course not! And don't sit like a lady now, what happened to manspreading all over the couch like you used to? Are you hiding something?" Ryujin spreads her legs slightly, making herself all the more aware of her own arousal, and praying it doesn't show on her tight pants. Hurriedly she tries to escalate even further, to draw attention away from herself—she grabs his cushion and pulls it away, revealing his bulge. Daringly she grabs him, and his slight hiss just makes her wetter—because of his reaction, and because he is far more prominent than his jeans would suggest.

"What's this? I thought you weren't interested in me, hmm?" He slaps her hand away almost childishly.

"Of course not, that was just the movie being hot, not you! What about you!" He hovers a hand on her flat stomach, threatening to move down. "I wonder how wet you are down there, just from the movie right?"

"Of course! And if you're not interested in me, prove it!" Ryujin tries to escalate once more to "win" the argument. "Hit me!"

"What? You're crazy."

"No, I still feel bad about what I did all those years ago. I know you said you're over it, but I'm not, not until you hit me, so go ahead, hit me!" She grabs his arm, pulling it to her face, trying to make the hand connect.

"Ryujin I'm not going to hit you!"

"Why not, do you like me? I thought you weren't interested."

"No, you're just being stupid, I am not going to hit you. Ryujin!"

"Even if I feel bad? Even if I want you to hit me?"

"Especially if you want it, I won't hit you!" He is hypocritical though, and as Ryujin struggles harder he hits her.

In the face.

On her cheek.

Gently.

It is a warm, soft caress of her cheek, and he's pressed against her lips, kissing her hard. Ryujin's hand relaxes as her heart pounds against her chest. She puts both hands around his neck, pulling him in—god she wants this right now! The kiss spikes in intensity, but she can feel him draw back, slightly unsure. Her lips part, and she licks his slightly, and reassured he tongue-tangoes with her, soft moans coming from both of them. The kiss that started off by catching both of them by surprise quickly burns into something more, into apology, into making up for years of lost time, into pure lust.

Your free hand goes down from her neck to her shoulders, carelessly brushing the bra strap off. You wrap an arm around her back, hugging and holding her close—for the first time you realize that Ryujin's slim, a side-effect of her job. It made you want to protect her, to make sure no one would ever say no to her and hurt her and—

And to devour her. Your hand goes to her hip, and you freeze when she freezes, the fingertips touching her warm skin underneath her top retreating slightly. You feel her hand grab your wrist, did you go too far? No, she wants you to go further, putting your hand on her midriff and pushing you down, beneath her pants, and then one layer more.

"Fuck..." Ryujin can't help but whine as his fingers brush over her lips, instantly coating them with stickiness. Her body moves on its own, she's grabbing on to his arm, keeping him there, and she's bucking her hips, urging him to just curl his fingers and—

"Mmmm!" You could cum in your jeans right now just hearing Ryujin groan as you push two fingers into her. Your breath is heavy and hot on her lips while you try to hold the kiss, even as Ryujin squirms against you—she's tight and sticky and wet. "It feels so good, make me cum!" You hear her plead—you have never seen her quite like this, but you can't even begin to process that thought as her lips find your neck and suck harshly. You pay her back in kind, just as she desires, with firm pushes of your fingers into her, over and over. She cries out into your neck when your tips graze her just right, and soon her walls convulse and contract, making it even easier for you to rub her weak spot.

"Cum for me Ryujin." She nods into his neck, whining in pleasure as she gets even closer to her peak. He's growling in her ear, making her pussy squelch and leak. She squirts a little against his palm as he tugs on her earlobe, and he's hitting her in the sense that his cheek bumps against hers as she jerks erratically in ecstasy.

"Cum for me if you love me." WHAT? I don't— Her mind blanks out as he rubs g-spot roughly, and she muffles her scream against his neck, the pleasure paralyzing her, interrupting her own disgreement. She remembers being tense against him, as if reaching up to cling to him. Yet when she comes to she's lying on the sofa, his weight pressed on her comfortably.

"Asshole," she whispers a weak retort. "I don't love— ah!" He takes her breath away again, kissing her passionately. "Whatever you say dear," is the look he gives her after the kiss, and it infuriates Ryujin, makes her want to get back at him. Get back at him in a way that she really wants to right now.

"Get off me," Ryujin pouts and mutters, and you acquiesce, slowly pulling your fingers out from her—her stickiness and tightness isn't a feel you would soon forget. Ryujin unbuttons your jeans, pulling it and your boxers to your knees. She presses herself into you, and with a muted moan you respond to her grasping your cock. Her hand runs up and down your length, all the way from base to tip.

"Do I feel good?" she whispers into your ear. Her free hand runs up and down your body, further stimulating you. "You want me to go faster?" The sound that leaves you is almost a whine. "You'll cum for me right? Cum for me if you love me too? Hmm?" Ryujin teases and baits you.

"No I won't," you mutter through heavy breaths, trying and failing to calm yourself down.

"You won't, even if I do this?" She runs a finger over your head, rubbing the underside of it. Where the fuck did she learn to do that! "No? Maybe I should stop?" She runs her palm over your head before pulling away, going back to stroking your shaft. Ryujin's a master baiter.

"No, don't stop!"

Ryujin's glad he says no, as she's not sure she can even stop herself. It's one thing to grab him over clothing, it's a completely different matter to see and touch it in the flesh, feeling his thickness, his length—she's suddenly thinking about it way too much. He grabs her thigh suddenly, squeezing it as he closes in on his own orgasm. His cock throbs in her hand—she can't wait to feel it burst, and then to feel it inside her. But first, she has to win. 

You groan as Ryujin slinks down your body, positioning herself between your legs. No, surely she wouldn't— Keeping her eyes trained on you the whole time and making sure you are watching her, Ryujin opens her mouth and pushes her lips past your tip, and then past your head, and then most of your shaft.

Cum for me if you love me! Of course, Ryujin's words aren't quite that clear, what with having your cock in her mouth, but her garbled sounds are abundantly clear in meaning. You don't have it in you to resist, and so you fall for Ryujin hard.

"Fuck Ryujin..." The low moan of her name, the sudden grab on her head, the jump of his cock in her mouth, and finally his thick salty load hitting the back of her throat and sliding down her gullet, it all serves to turn Ryujin on even more. As he shudders through his orgasm, the hand on her head runs through her hair, squeezes her scalp gently—Ryujin thoughts dull, focusing on all the sensations he's giving her. It's only when he softens, and her mouth no longer fully filled does she realize that he's done, and that she's drooling a little over his shaft. She looks up, only to find him leaning back, drained and wasted, but she wants more, and she swallows the last of his seed before getting back to work.

"Ryujin!" You wince in oversensitivity as Ryujin starts to stroke you again, adding licks of her tongue on your spent shaft. You firm up a little in her hands, and you get a little harder when she stops to remove her top and pants, revealing a set of simple black underwear. You get a lot harder, recovering to full strength with what she says next.

"I-I need more, I want us to do more." She walks away, her black panties sticking tightly to the apex of her thighs. The slight jiggles of her butt hypnotizes you, and you almost trip over your own pants as you try to follow her to the bedroom.

Ryujin laughs as she hears him stumble on the way over. There is a lot less laughing as he walks through the door, naked and stiffly pointing in her direction, before kissing her and pressing her into the soft bed. A brief fumble, and her bra falls away. In minor embarrassment she covers herself, but he pulls her hands away to plant kisses all around her chest and neck.

"No marks," she whispers, and he responds with a gruff note, that he heard her, but he's not happy about it. She rewards him with an unreserved moan as he pinches and rubs her stiff nubs, swirling his tongue around one, and then the other. There is a sheen of moisture over her flat tummy as he drifts down her body—why did she feel so warm? Ryujin burns a little hotter as he squeezes her thighs again, this time to spread them. His nose nudges against her mons, and her scent gets even thicker at the contact, and as he pulls her underwear to the side. "Don't— nngh!" his tongue catches her by surprise, and soon his warm breath is all over her core, licking and flicking and pressing, making her melt into a mess. And yet she needed more, her hips bucking involuntarily.

"No more, no need..." She pushes you away with a foot, kicking away her panties and removing the last piece of clothing she had on. You join her on the bed, and her legs quickly hook you close, lightly trapping you, the two of you are so close together now.

"Ryujin!" You gasp a final question to her as your shaft touches her entrance. There were many lines crossed today, all of which the two of you could probably ignore or be in denial about in the future, but the line you're on now is one that both of you know would be the Rubicon of your relationship, that things will undeniably change afterwards. But you look at Ryujin, and she is more than willing to leap over that line, and to challenge you to take the leap yourself. She grabs your cock, lining you up with her, adjusting herself until your tip catches her—just the tip, just a toe over the line. She wants you to do the rest.

It's happening, shit, he's so— The pressure in Ryujin's abdomen grows exponentially as the distance closes between their hips. Every time she's sure she can't take anymore of him, he gets deeper, his brows twitching with each inch he pushes into her.

"So tight..." Ryujin clenches even harder around him when she hears his muttered moan. She feels so full, so utterly stuffed, she has to arch her back, as if to try to stretch herself more, to make more room for him. He starts moving soon after, and the pleasure begins to slowly build up. But not fast enough!

"Faster!" you hear her moan.

"I don't want to hurt you," you mumble. She's just too tight to push through roughly, but she disproves that by bucking her hips up into you, and a jolt of pleasure goes up your spine. Her hands wrap around your neck once more, and her eyes are bright and eager. And also mischievous.

"Fuck me if you love me." She gives you no choice, and you willingly up the pace, and her tightness makes you thrust harder. Soon you are fucking her hard and fast with body-rattling strokes. Ryujin's moans get louder and wilder, her voice cracking when you hit deep in her. Her walls tremble around you, and your cock throbs in response to her quick contractions—both of you are close. Bewilderingly she stops you briefly, just as both of you are about to fully ascend in bliss.

"Do me from behind, I don't want you to see me."

"What?"

"I don't want you to watch me cum," Ryujin struggles and tries to push herself off the bed, but he grabs her arms, pinning them against the bed.

"But I want to." She weakly tries to fight back, but his forehead presses against hers, and he's all that she can see, all that she can feel as his cock plunges into her even harder and faster. His sweat drips on to her face, his hips fighting her thrashing lower body, all to fuck her even better—Ryujin knows that he's going to watch her lose control, and somehow that spikes her pleasure even more, that she's going to bare everything to him. I'm sure I'll look so ugly but—

"Fuck, oh fuck, oh my god, oh my— GOD!" Ryujin has never looked hotter as she falls apart right in front of you. Her face goes slack, and she throws her head back as she silently combusts around you, her entire body writhing in pleasure. Her pussy seems to grip and tug at you, as if trying to suck you in deeper, to suck your—fuck it's too dangerous! You manage to spread her thighs further and pull out in time, joining Ryujin in climax, splattering her quivering lithe body with thick splotches of cum.

You roll to the side, laying down next to her and breathing heavily. Ryujin's lips are still lightly parted, soft moans joining your pants as the two of you work through the last bits of pleasure going through your heads. It is almost cute how she blinks rapidly after opening her eyes, not seeing you right on top of her. She turns the wrong way first, and blushes like mad as she turns the right way to face you. She mumbles something, but your head is still buzzing and ringing to hear her.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, umm, tissues please." With what felt like a huge effort, you manage to push yourself off the bed to grab some towels instead. The aftermath is surprisingly awkward, as Ryujin asks to use the shower first, and you avert your eyes as she comes out of the bathroom. She quickly puts on a bathrobe, and by the time you get up, she's already out of the bedroom, saying something about getting some water. You take a long shower, trying to figure out what to say when you're face-to-face with Ryujin again—Be with me? This never happened? I like you? I love you? I want you? Let's just be fuckbuddies? You come out just as uncertain as before, except much cleaner, and you make sure you are properly covered before exiting the bathroom.

"Hey," Ryujin calls out, tapping away at her phone.

"Hey."

"There's water on the table."

"Thanks." You gratefully down the glass of water before looking at the state of your bed—ruffled, wrinkled, fluid-stained.

"You should sleep with me." You catch the briefest of smiles before Ryujin turns away from you, still playing on her phone.

"What?"

"Your bed's dirty, we should just share one."

"Are you okay with that?"

"I asked you didn't I?"

"Right, thanks." Cautiously you slip into bed next to her, and making sure you kept a healthy distance from her, you faced away from Ryujin and tried your best to sleep.

"Good night Ryujin."

"Good night."

Ryujin wakes up the next morning, only to find him spooning her yet again. She gently tries to lift his arm again, and this time he hugs her even tighter. After last night, rather than be surprised and push herself out of his arms, Ryujin has some morning wetness as she feels something she didn't last time. She knows they'll have to talk about what happened after he wakes up, but she'd rather delay that conversation for as long as possible.

You wake up to a warm sensation between your legs, and it isn't unfamiliar. You look under the covers, only to see Ryujin bobbing her head, bringing your morning wood to full hardness.

"Ryujin? We should—"

"Later." She crawls up your body. "You were spooning me again, I couldn't ignore it."

"No way, you spooned me."

"No, we were facing away from each other."

"Fine, we were, mmm! Spooning each other." Ryujin is shockingly wet, and you quickly groan and compromise with her as she rubs herself over your shaft.

"Deal." She seals it with a vacuum seal over your cock, sinking herself to the hilt in one motion. She flutters around you, and Ryujin buries her head in your neck and let's out a low moan.

"Did you just—?"

"No, just umm, feels good." She throws off the covers, and soon with two hands on your chest Ryujin's riding you, her fit body on full display. Her petite breasts jiggle slightly as she bounces and grinds on you slowly and randomly, indulging herself in a morning fuck. This time she doesn't hide anything, and she's moaning unreservedly, letting you know just how good she feels.

"So deep!" "Fuck right there!" "You're going to make me cum!"

You know she's close when her chin begins to dip into her chest, spending all of her strength on riding you faster, hips bucking back and forth quickly, her slick beginning to leak all over you. You also know that based on how she grips you, there's no way you can hold off your own peak, and you'll go right with her if she does.

"Ryujin, you should get off..."

"No, fuck I'm so close."

"Ryujin!"

She grabs your hands and puts them around her waist—her intent clear.

"Cum in me if you love me." It is reckless, dangerous, stupid even, but Ryujin didn't care. She just put him in checkmate—there was no hiding how either of them felt. Sure he could bluff and lift her easily off him, or he could just jam her on top of him, pump himself up into her and fucking breed her little—

"Fuckkkk!" Ryujin wails at her sinful intrusive thoughts, and she cums immediately. A fresh rush of slick covers your cock, and with Ryujin's velvet grip around you, you give in to your urges and pull her down, making sure you're driving deep into her just before you explode. Lights flash behind your eyes, a mess of hair and lips and teeth in your face as Ryujin tries to kiss you, muffling her outright scream while the two of you finish each other off. Your connection is warmer than ever—from Ryujin's juices all over your crotch, from your cum filling her womb to the brim.

Ryujin's entire body is warm as she comes back down from her high, and he's tightly hugging her. She can hear his heartbeat (or is that her own?) against her chest, and when she flexes her muscles, a heartbeat skips—she could still feel him inside her, and she's almost abnormally warm and wet down there. She winces slightly when his lips find her neck—he's leaving a mark, his mark.

"N-No marks," she protests weakly, but she doesn't really mind, her mind filled with endorphins of happiness, if anyone could see Ryujin they would see her absolutely glowing right now.

"Mm," a mumbled apology, and you're looking at Ryujin as you leave only one hickey on her neck. "You're really pretty, you don't need makeup."

"Thanks, that's random."

"Right, I umm, don't know what to say."

"Then don't." Tiredly Ryujin rests on top of you, and truthfully neither of you minded if you went back to sleep right then. But the real world calls, and Yeji is insistent, calling multiple times even after Ryujin fumbles and rejects the earlier calls.

"Yah, the hotel said you haven't checked out yet? They need to clean it!"

"Just a little longer unnie."

"Yeah, just a little more," you add on.

"Oh, so you two used one bed, hmm, that's nice."

"No, we used both beds, and shut up." Ryujin blushes and fires back immediately to cut off Yeji's cackling.

"Not bad, you didn't disappoint me or Ryujin it looks like. But seriously hurry up and check out."

"Okay okay, we will!" Ryujin ends the call before rolling off you. "God she's going to be so annoying, gonna be all like 'I told you so!', ugh."

"Yeah, we should clean up. Could you pass me the tissues?" This time it is Ryujin that helps you clean up, handing you the box of tissues as she cleans herself too. There is no time to shower, so the two of you quickly get dressed before ambashedly leaving. Before you could get to the concierge, Ryujin quickly pulls you into a side hallway.

"Hey, so what happened last night?" What is she talking about, neither of you were drunk! But the careful way she asks that question is less about your memories of last night, and what it means for the two of you for every night going forward.

"I'll take responsibility, if anything happens—" Ryujin quickly shakes her head, fidgeting slightly.

"No not that, I'll be fine, but just, what about us?"

"That's... That's up to you, did anything happen last night?" she's stumped by his question, until she's suddenly in his embrace, and he's whispering in her ear. "You're the idol, did anything happen? Is anything allowed to happen? I'll go with what you want, I don't want you to get hurt."

"Do you... want it to happen?" Is what she asks, but you look down at Ryujin looking up at you, and you understood the question. Do you want us to happen?

"Yes."

"Then it did." You lean down to kiss her, and Ryujin flashes you the brightest smile before gently pushing you away. "Not here, people might see!"

A few days later you wanted to ask Ryujin out, but you realized you didn't know how to. So you text Yeji.

*You two are idiots just ask her like a normal couple would!* is her scathing reply.

*Can I drop by, I want to ask her directly*

*She won't like that, the other members don't know yet*

*OK, can you set me up with her then, I'll meet her at a cafe or something*

*Just come by, I'll give you our address, I can't be bothered to deal with you two little cavity-inducers*

You arrive in front of their dorms, and thankfully Yeji has the sense to make Ryujin answer the door.

"Hello?" Ryujin's eyes almost pop out of her head as she hurriedly closes the door behind her. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to umm, ask you out, when are you free?"

"You couldn't have texted me?"

"I... guess I could have. But I wanted to see you." A warm fuzzy feeling fills Ryujin's heart, and she makes sure you feel the same way.

"Yeah, I missed you too." You hug her tightly, happy at her admission and confession.

"So you'll go out with me then? Whenever you're free I guess."

"Yeah." Ryujin stays silent for a moment, before her eyes twinkle and her lips curl into a smirk. "I'm free Friday, come pick me up then if you love me."

"Friday it is then."

A/N: Finally back with a story, hope it's alright. I tried playing with switching perspectives a lot more, so hopefully it's not too confusing. Getting back into things, hopefully will be posting more frequently from now on, but might not get back to the one-a-week I used to kinda do. Thanks for reading and happy holidays!

[romanoffsbish]

Carved With Love

Natasha Romanoff x Wife!R

Yelena Belova x Fem!R (The true love story 🥹)

Yelena’s in town for the holiday season, and who would she be if not wreaking havoc? | WC: 1,986

Warnings: Mentions of Neglectful Past | Siblings

Yelena was a menace; you knew that from the insight your wife gave you before she introduced you to her.

“Y/N, she literally blew herself up and said it was fun,” your wife had reiterated her stance, that being: Yelena was a complete and total maniac. “Sounds like she’d fit right in with you and your band of superheroes,” was all you’d said back while adding pasta to your cart.

The two of you had been together for nearly a decade when they found each other again, and though the blonde was wary of a meeting she quickly agreed after hearing that the two of you were married with kids.

——

You couldn't really blame her for wanting to meet them more, especially your daughter, the eldest, who shared a name with her. They clicked instantly. Then there were your sons that you carried back to back, Andrei and Aleksander, who were bonded like twins. It was like they gained a triplet with their aunt. Then there’s the latest, Flora, who was just turning six months old and who was absolutely in love with the blonde.

The group were nothing but trouble, you adored that.

When you met her, your heart had doubled in size as you realized she was just trying to forget, to be a kid. Something you knew she never got to be, so just like with your own children, you let her get away with it all.

Natasha didn't much appreciate that, well, truthfully she adored just how much you already loved her sister. But, she was a bit jealous that you were so lenient with her, even if she knew you weren’t with her because she needed the structure and redirection you provided her.

As of right now, she thought you were also insane, "Detka, I don't think you thought this through..." Natasha mumbled against your temple from behind, where she stood with you securely in her arms, and you shook your head and softly chuckled. "It's fine baby."

Natasha currently feared for everyone's safety as her sister held one of those little orange carving knives.

"Oh my gosh, Y/N Romanoff, look!" Yelena shrieked, and your wife sighed when she felt your body relax. There was no hope left, you were at her sister's mercy. Yelena held up a stencil and you smiled. "It's cute."

"No, it is badass!" Yelena corrected, only to be met with a glare from her sister. "Watch your language."

"Natasha," you scolded instantaneously, "Lighten up."

"But she —," Natasha went to defend her decisions but quickly cut herself off when you turned with a glare.

Everyone got away with murder, except Natasha. (Well, in this symbolic context that is…)

Yelena smiled smugly at her sister, she even stuck her tongue out to mock her as you weren't looking. The redhead flipped her off, and your daughter gasped. "Mama! That's the bad finger!" Your eyes widened. "Natasha! What are you now? Some sort of hypocrite?"

"Predateli'," Natasha grumbled, making your daughter laugh alongside her aunt who was taping the ghost cat on a zombie dog's head stencil to her large pumpkin.

(Traitors)

"You all behave," you scolded the entire room before leaving to the kitchen to collect the cookies. Natasha tried to follow you, like a hurt puppy, but you made her stay behind to make sure nobody had a carving crisis. 

Which was in vain because when you came back in the room you found Yelena had upgraded to your sharp carving knife, and you nearly dropped your plate.

"Yelena honey, that's too dangerous," you practically shrieked, but not really to avoid her hand slipping. Not that you didn't have faith in her trained hands, but you knew accidents could happen regardless of skillsets. The blonde pouted up at you, and Natasha watched you once again melt into her little sister's charm.

"I can't use the little orange one," she pleaded for your understanding, "It is too tiny and ineffective."

"Okay," you folded instantly and your wife's eyes widened with flashes of shock and betrayal. The one time Natasha had done the same thing years back, before your kids, you'd given her a safety lesson.

“This isn’t fair,” she grumbled to herself, but she also let it go when she saw you sitting with her sister, eyes focused in on the way she carved the pumpkin and mouth at the ready to give her advice or a light scold.

Natasha let her festering resentments go, and shortly after joined you all at the table so that the youngest member of the house could play with the guts. It was a perfect moment of domesticated bliss, and the redhead couldn’t help but to feel at peace in current company.

Then the following morning came, and you learned a few things. Yelena had a new favorite holiday, and in turn a hobby, carving, which piggybacked right off of her other, bugging her older sister as if it was her job.

"Natasha," you tried to calm her, your hands on her tense shoulder as you kept her from lunging at the blonde. "You need to calm down my love, I can..."

"No!" Natasha cut you off, "She will do it, not you."

"She's our guest," you reminder her, but she merely rolled her eyes—something she never did towards you. "More like a pest, Y/N/N, make her leave before I do."

Your eyes narrowed fast, and your wife cowered at the sheer intensity. "Apologize to her, right now Natalia."

The redhead held back a scoff. Yelena had carved a face only a mother could love into her favorite fall leather jacket, yet she was the one who had to apologize here.

"I'm sorry, parshivets," she begrudgingly spat at the grinning blonde across the room. "I accept, cyka."

(Brat / Bitch)

You sighed, and regretfully turned to face the smug blonde. This was partially your fault too for having let the girl get away with murder up until this point.

"Yelena, now it's your turn." Yelena frowned, but then she nodded and relaxed her features. "Sorry sestra," her tone was genuine, "I will buy you another one."

"No, you don't have to," you let the girl off the hook. "Yes she does." Natasha rebuked your words in a flash, then she intelligently rephrased, "No you don't."

You smirked and rewarded her with a kiss that she tried to melt into, but once again Yelena interrupted with a rumbling stomach. "Can we make pancakes?"

Natasha's hands harshly gripped your hips, and you smiled at her in understanding, she missed you. "How about you go get the kids up while we make breakfast?"

The redhead reluctantly let you go with a nod, but before she got too far you pulled her in for another kiss. "I'll be all yours soon, just have some patience."

Yelena was leaving after the holiday's event, and the kids were going to Wanda's for a spooky sleepover. You'd planned accordingly, and your wife smirked at the reminder, chastely pecked your lips then ran up the stairs with a reinvigorated pep in her once glum step.

"Get the chocolate chips," you instructed your sous chef, and she did so with a smile. Yelena was learning to cook from you, you never outright said it, but you worried about her eating habits. All she could make was mac and cheese and that was artery clogging if not met with a balance of other things besides takeout.

Yelena appreciated your concern, it was clear to her that you were the perfect match for Natasha, because you were an even better platonic match for her. The way you let her just be who she was, who she was discovering herself to be with her newfound freedom, meant the absolute world to her. You were a light that she found comfort in, and would never let go of.

Once you showed Yelena how to make the batter you let her ladle it onto the griddle. "Don't flip it yet," you instructed, your back was turned but you were aware of her piqued curiosity and she was enamored by your spy like skills. "You're like a super mom or something."

"It's nice to see my skillset is appreciated," you teased the younger girl as you returned to her side and gently bumped her hip. "I appreciate all of you, sestra."

It took you a second to reel in your emotions, you'd only been hoping that she wouldn't hate you, but it turned out that she actually liked you, and you didn't want to cry and make her reevaluate that judgement.

Instead you settled on hugging her shoulders, giving her a gentle shake as you showed her the indicators for flipping before finally letting her flip the pancake.

Just as you settled a pancake on the plate you heard an obnoxious scraping on the glass. "What the—." There before you was a focused blonde, the tip of her tongue rested on her lower lip as she carved your perfectly round pancake into a ghost cat. You shook your head with a fond smile, "You really love knives, don't you?" Yelena mirrored your expression and nodded as she now carved an eye into a pumpkin. "They are so cool."

"Natasha loves her guns the same." Yelena flinched, "Guns are too rigid, and loud. Knives are fun, you can do flip tricks with them and they're just as lethal."

You noted her clear discomfort with firearms, and filed it away in your mind as a later topic of discussion, and fortunately the kids came barreling into the kitchen. Yelena dropped the knife and, just like every morning, she greeted the little boys with the tickle monster.

Then came your daughter’s greeting, “Yelena Belova!"

Yelena then followed her lead, “Yelena Romanoff!"

You shook your head at their antics, then you returned to your task at hand, and began to set the table. You placed the blondes masterpieces in their designated spots, a pumpkin for each boy, the cat for her parrot, and the torn to bits pieces went to the toothless baby.

You were gifted two perfectly sized hearts, topped with fruit and whipped cream. Natasha got zero change to the shape, but instead, she was gifted icing words.

“I’m not eating that,” Natasha growled, and you bit back a laugh as you saw the script. “What’s it say?”

Natasha shook her head at you, and glared in her sister’s direction as you attempted to read the Russian out loud, “Tvoya zhena lyubit menya bol'she.”

(Your wife loves me more)

“Damn right,” Yelena teased as she sat in front of her own pancake, “Don’t worry sestra, she loves you too.”

“You two, knock it off and eat your breakfast,” your mom voice came out, and everyone was suddenly sat. You nibbled on your food while making sure your baby didn’t choke on hers as she gobbled it down like a cat (Liho and Bob) being fed at the normal time everyday.

Once breakfast was finished you sent the kids to the living room with their aunt to watch cartoons while you and your wife cleaned up the mess left behind.

As you were packing up the fruit you felt two arms snake around your waist, and a kiss placed on your neck that you instantly melted into. You felt her smirk but ignored her smugness as you lazily cleaned up.

"You're spoiling her," Natasha groaned, you shrugged and turned around to face her with a genuine smile. "I'm just giving her the same chances I did you."

Natasha frowned, "I hope it's not exactly the same."

"That’s disgusting!" Yelena groaned from the couch and you giggled into your wife's shoulder. Avoiding the question in your kids eyes, and leaving Natasha to answer it. The redhead smirked, throwing her sister a wink before she completely pulled you out of the room.

Two could play at this game…

—

[adrienneleclerc]

Little Bit of Food

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Y/N sees a TikTok video of couple where the women serves her partner more food on his plate than on hers. For research purposes, she just wants to see how he would react.

Warning: no translated Spanish, spelling and grammar errors, SHORT

A/N: since I am Mexican and Peruvian, the foods mentioned are typical foods that I grew up eating, I LOVE these foods so much, if any other Latine readers have suggestions of what dishes should be mentioned, comment below and I’ll tag you when I use them in another one shot. Also, sorry if it’s short, I don’t think I can build off a lot of “story material” over a TikTok trend, you know?

Y/N was watching TikTok and she saw a video that was interesting to her.

It was of a couple and a woman served her husband more food on his plate than on her own. The husband insisted that his wife should have more food and that he could eat something later.

Y/N knew that Henry was going to busy at the gym for a few hours so that gave her plenty of time to make one of Henry’s favorite meals that Y/N introduced him to, and that’s bistec a lo pobre. She bought sliced New York steaks from the Mexican grocery store (there’s always a butcher there), also some tortillas and 2 avocados to make guacamole or a sandwich later. When she went back to Henry’s house, she started cutting up tomatoes and onions so it would give the steak flavor. She put the onions and tomatoes aside in a bowl and got out the white rice in the pantry to wash the rice.

Half an hour later, Henry was came through the door sweaty and with a happy Kal.

“Ay hola, Kal, como te fue con tu papi, hm?” Y/N asked, kneeling to pet Kal.

“You call me papi?” Henry asked, drinking water from his sports bottle.

“When I’m talking about you to Kal, yes. Ain’t no way I’m calling you that though, it’s weird because I call my actual dad, papi. So don’t even think about it.” Y/N warned Henry as she washed her hands in the kitchen sink.

“Too late, I’m already thinking about, my lady.” Henry said, kissing her cheek as he hugged her from behind.

“Stop it. I’m making your favorite so please take a quick shower and then I’ll call you when it’s ready. Do you want one or two eggs?” Y/N asked.

“Two please, thanks love.” Henry said, kissing her lips before heading upstairs for his shower.

Y/N began sautéing the onions and tomatoes in the pan before adding in two pieces of steak for Henry, we’ll, one and a half, she cut a half piece for her plate. She got a plate out of the pantry to serve two ‘scoops’ of rice, adding the cooked steaks with tomatoes and onions on top of it, and preceded to fry two eggs on a different pan.

“Toro, food!” Y/N shouted and Kal calming running. “I said ‘toro’, not ‘oso’, you need to practice your Spanish, Kal.” Y/N said and placed Henry’s plate on his side of the table. Henry came running downstairs with his hair wet but he’s dressed in some shorts and a t-shirt.

“Thanks love, it looks amazing.” Henry said, kissing her.

“That’s good, now eat up, you’ve had a long workout.” Y/N said and that’s when she got a smaller plate, served herself a half scoop of rice, her half steak with 3 pieces of tomatoes and onions, and no eggs. When she sat down and said “let’s eat”, Henry looked at Y/N’s plate, then at his own.

“Darling, were you snacking while you were cooking again?” Henry asked, trying to find a reasonable explanation for the lack of food on his girlfriend’s plate.

“No, no, I didn’t snack at all. Eat before the eggs become cold.” Y/N pointed at him with her fork.

“Are you sick? You didn’t have to cook if you weren’t feeling well, love.” Henry said in a concerned voice.

“I’m fine Henry, I went to Fernando’s market today but the steak was too expensive so I only bought 2.” Y/N lied, she buys like half a pound of steak, there’s still 3 or 4 pieces in the fridge. Henry got up and grabbed his keys. “Where are you going?”

“To the market to buy more steak, what cut do you order a again? Med-ee-ya Libra de what?” Henry asked, opening the door,

“No no no, Henry, there’s no need for that, I can survive without bistec, please sit down and eat.” Y/N said, Henry closed the door, put down his keys, and sat back down.

“What about the eggs or the rice? I’m sure you could fill up on that, you told me you ate that when you were younger when there was nothing to eat.” Henry said.

“The last eggs were used on you, Toro. Now please eat before your food gets cold. You want something to drink? I got chicha (It’s a purple corn drink) if you don’t want soda.” Y/N said.

“Yeah, that’s fine, darling.” Henry said, when Y/N walked into the kitchen, Henry switched his plate for Y/N’s. When Y/N came back with chicha for Henry and soda for her, she saw what Henry did.

“Toro! You weren’t supposed to do that. You had a big workout, you’re bigger than me, you need all the protein you can get from this.” Y/N said, trying to switch the plates back but Henry refused.

“Nope, you cooked all this, you deserve to eat your delicious food. I could find something later.” Henry said,

“But you must be hungry, just eat it, I can make myself some potato quesadillas later.” Y/N said, attempting to get the plate back from Henry but he swatted her hand. “Toro!”

“I’m sorry love, but it’s for your good.” Henry said.

“I Don’t want you to be starving,” Y/N said,

“I won’t starve, my love. Watching you enjoy your food is filling enough for me.” Henry said and Y/N’s heart melted. She got out of her seat to sit on Henry’s lag, placing her hands on his neck to hug him.

“Amor, it’s a prank. There’s more steak in the fridge that I can fry up, there’s a lot of rice on the stove and plenty of eggs. Now please eat while I go serve myself more food.” Y/N said getting off him and grabbing her plate to do exactly that.

“You scared me, love. I was about to head over to the market…where is it by the way?” Henry asked,

“Haha, i can’t even tell you, I just know how to get there.” Y/N said, placing her steak in the pan and she watched Henry eat his meal.

“Delicious! This might even be better than your bistec empanado, did I pronounce that right?” Henry asked,

“Yes you did, Toro, but bistec empanado with sopita aguada is comfort food, along with quesadilla de papas, which I will be making tomorrow, I’ve been craving it,” Y/N said.

“That sounds so good, I have to make sure I work out even more. When I made you my girlfriend, I had no idea you would try to fatten me up.” Henry said and Y/N gasped, flipping the steak.

“I would never, how dare you accuse me. I’m gonna make flan for my friend’s birthday on Saturday so I’m gonna make another one just for us.” Y/N said and that made Henry laugh.

“I love your flan, darling. Your cooking skills put mine to shame.” Henry said. Y/N placed her steak on her place, serving more rice, and began frying an egg.

“I was born with that sazón, Toro.” Y/N said teasingly. She finished frying the egg, served it on her plate, and went to sit down. “Better?” Y/n asked, showing Henry her plate.

“Much better, my lady.” Henry said, kissing her. Kal barked. “Yes bear, you can have some steak too.” Henry said,

The End

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