#then ignore that and have her hold her hand

[magical-reid]

The Soldier and His Mission

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1K

Summary: When a trigger sends Bucky back into the grip of the Winter Soldier, he shadows you with an unyielding protectiveness that leaves the team on edge, though he doesn't harm anyone. After days of tension and careful steps, Bucky finally breaks through the icy barrier, returning to himself in a quiet, tender moment, finding solace in your presence.

You should’ve known something was wrong the moment Bucky went still.

One second, the mission was wrapping up—just another Hydra facility wiped off the map, just another set of goons taken down. The next, something triggered him. A phrase muttered in Russian over a radio, the faintest crackle of a long-dead handler’s voice. You saw the shift in his posture before he even turned around, the telltale tightening of his jaw, the blankness overtaking those usually warm blue eyes.

Bucky Barnes was gone.

The Winter Soldier stood in his place.

And yet—he didn’t hurt you.

Not when he turned to face the team, his body language bristling with danger. Not when Steve hesitated before stepping forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. And certainly not when you cautiously called his name, your voice softer than the others.

Instead, the Soldier moved between you and everyone else.

A shield.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Back at the Tower, you thought the episode would pass. That maybe, after a few hours, after enough familiar sights and sounds, Bucky would shake it off like he always did.

But the Soldier wasn’t leaving. And he had decided you were his mission.

Not to eliminate.

To protect.

At first, it was just hovering. You moved—he followed. You sat—he stood at your back, ever watchful. The others gave him space, exchanging worried glances when they thought you weren’t looking. Steve was tense, obviously trying to figure out how to break through, while Tony was less patient about it.

“This is a problem,” Stark declared after the first few hours, arms crossed as he leaned against the counter. “I mean, I hate to be the one to say it, but we have a fully armed, brainwashed assassin in the Tower again, and we all know how that went last time.”

“He’s not attacking anyone,” Natasha pointed out.

“Yet,” Tony shot back.

You ignored the argument as best you could, focusing instead on cooking something for Bucky—something normal, something familiar, something that might ground him. His eyes tracked you the entire time.

Then you miscalculated the heat on the stove.

The oil in the pan hissed and spat, and a second later, you hissed too as a sharp sting bloomed across your palm. You barely had time to react before there was a sudden blur of motion.

Bucky was on you instantly.

His flesh hand gripped your wrist, his metal one hovering protectively over the stove, as if it had personally attacked you. His face was unreadable, but his grip was firm, his hold gentle as he examined the burn.

“I’m okay,” you assured him, but he wasn’t listening.

Instead, he took the cold pack you hadn’t even reached for yet and pressed it carefully to your palm, his jaw tight, his brows furrowed in focus. You exchanged a look with Steve over Bucky’s shoulder, and the Captain exhaled, something like relief flashing in his eyes.

He was still in there.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The Soldier continued shadowing you for the next two days, much to Tony’s frustration. But as Natasha had pointed out—he wasn’t hurting anyone.

Unless they posed a threat to you.

That was something Steve learned firsthand during a sparring session. You had barely landed a hit before Bucky, watching from the sidelines, had moved. The next thing you knew, Steve was on his ass, blinking up at the ceiling, while Bucky stood between you like a human wall, eyes cold and calculating.

“For the record,” Steve grunted as he sat up, rubbing his ribs, “I was letting her win.”

Bucky wasn’t convinced.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It wasn’t until you needed a medical checkup that things really came to a head.

“Barnes, I have to actually examine her,” Dr. Cho said patiently, eyeing where Bucky stood between you and the med bay’s equipment.

“No,” he replied flatly.

“Bucky—” you tried.

“The room is secure.”

“That’s not the—”

“She does not require assistance.”

“I do require assistance,” you corrected. “Because I burned my hand and twisted my shoulder thanks to a certain super soldier overreacting in the gym.”

Bucky didn’t move.

You exhaled slowly.

“Okay,” you said, shifting tactics. “Then stay.”

That got his attention.

“If you want to make sure nothing happens to me,” you reasoned, “then you can stay here. But you have to let the doctor check me out.”

His expression was unreadable for a long moment. Then, after what felt like an eternity—

“…Understood.”

Progress.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

When it finally broke, it wasn’t dramatic.

There was no grand trigger, no huge revelation.

Just a moment of quiet.

You had fallen asleep on the couch, exhaustion finally winning after two days of Bucky’s overprotective hovering. When you woke up, it was to warm hands gently brushing over your wrist—both flesh and metal, but softer this time, as if relearning the feeling of touching you.

And then you heard it—his breath hitching.

A tiny, barely-there sound, but one filled with something raw.

You blinked sleepily, looking up.

Bucky was staring at you. Not the Soldier. Bucky.

His face was pale, his jaw tight, his eyes wide—his real eyes.

“…Doll?” His voice cracked over the word, like it had been caught in his throat.

You smiled sleepily, shifting so your fingers curled around his. “Hey, Buck.”

His exhale was shaky. His shoulders sagged. And when you tugged him down to you, he didn’t resist.

He just buried his face in your neck and held on.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“You scared the hell out of me, you know,” you murmured later, your fingers absentmindedly running through his hair as he rested against you.

“I know,” he admitted, voice rough.

“You threw Steve like a ragdoll.”

“…Yeah.”

“…Kind of hot, not gonna lie.”

A laugh. Quiet, but real.

And just like that, Bucky Barnes was back.

[holyblonded]

return of media day | stargirl

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader

summary: you are about to drop your first signature cleats with nike and they decide to do a joint shoot with alexia

warnings: rfef mentioned 😐

notes: this was extremely cute y’all. it’s a bit short but i couldn’t think of anything else to add. tell me what else yall want to see with this series!!

You were already half-asleep in the car on the way to the shoot, having just landed back in Spain after international break. Nike hadn’t given you too many details about today, just that it was important and you had to be there.

So naturally, you showed up in a hoodie, sweatpants, and slides, looking like you had just crawled out of hibernation. You walked onto set, rubbing your eyes, only to freeze in place.

“There’s no way,” you muttered, blinking rapidly.

You turned away, rubbed your eyes again, then looked back to confirm you weren’t hallucinating.

“ALE!”

Alexia barely had time to react before you full-speed sprinted at her and jumped, forcing her to catch you mid-air. Alexia let out a surprised grunt as you crashed into her, legs wrapping around her waist like some kind of overly excited koala.

Her first instinct was to scold you, but an involuntary smile spread across her face as she held you. “You’re so dramatic.” She huffed, adjusting her grip to keep you from sliding to the floor. “You do realize I’m not a crash pad, right?”

You ignored her, squeezing tighter. “I knew I wasn’t hallucinating.”

“You thought you were hallucinating?” Alexia chuckled, finally setting you down.

“I’ve been awake since five a.m., Ale. I didn’t even know where I was going today. Nike just shoved me into a car and told me to smile.” You pulled back slightly, holding her shoulders as if to make sure she was actually real. “And then I see you? My brain short-circuited.”

Alexia smirked. “Understandable. Seeing me is a life-changing experience.”

You lightly smacked her arm. “Don’t make me regret missing you.”

By now, everyone on set had stopped what they were doing, watching your reunion with varying degrees of amusement. A cameraman filming the behind-the-scenes content caught the whole thing, likely already thinking about how to turn it into a dramatic slow-motion edit.

“Wait—” Alexia suddenly furrowed her brows, looking around the studio. “Why are you here?”

“Why am I here?” you repeated, blinking. “Why are you here?”

Alexia gave you a deadpan look. “I work with Nike.”

“Well, so do I,” you shot back, placing your hands on your hips.

A pause. Then, ever so slowly, the realization dawned on both of you.

“Oh my god,” Alexia exhaled, eyes widening.

“No way,” you whispered dramatically.

“You’re the shoot?” Alexia asked, pointing at you.

“And you’re part of it?” you gasped, pointing right back.

“Did neither of you read your emails?” one of the Nike reps finally interjected, rubbing their temples.

You and Alexia turned to them, completely unapologetic.

“Absolutely not,” you said in unison.

Alexia shook her head with a fond smile, draping an arm over your shoulders. “Well, I guess this just got a lot more interesting.”

You grinned. “And a lot more chaotic.”

The Nike rep sighed, muttering something about “athletes and their aversion to reading”, before motioning for the crew to resume setting up.

Meanwhile, you leaned into Alexia, still grinning like an idiot. “Hey, Ale?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you miss me?”

Alexia rolled her eyes, pulling you closer. “Unfortunately.”

The interview started off smooth. Professional. Standard media day questions.

The crew had set up the cameras, the lights were bright, and the atmosphere was lighthearted. You and Alexia sat side by side, answering questions about the new cleats, the upcoming season, and your goals.

Then, someone asked, “How would you describe each other’s playing styles?”

Alexia hummed, tilting her head thoughtfully. You turned to look at her, fully expecting a compliment, maybe even some poetic analysis of your skills.

Instead, she casually dropped, “Estrella is… chaotic.”

Your mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

“But effective,” she added, holding up her hands like that softened the blow. “You never know what she’s going to do next. It’s terrifying.”

You scoffed. “Wow. That’s crazy. You know, I was gonna be nice, but now?” You turned to the camera, shaking your head in mock disappointment. “Alexia is a control freak.”

Alexia gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest like you had personally insulted her entire family. “I am not a control freak.”

“Oh, you so are.”

“I just like order,” she defended, crossing her arms.

“You demand order,” you corrected, smirking. “Everything has to go exactly how you see it in your mind, and if someone does something unpredictable, you short-circuit for a second before trying to control the chaos.”

Alexia opened her mouth, then closed it, then sighed. “Okay, maybe. But that’s a good thing.”

You snorted. “Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night, Capitana.”

Alexia narrowed her eyes playfully before turning back to the camera. “Well, since we’re being honest, I stand by what I said, chaotic, unpredictable, borderline reckless—”

“Hey!”

“—but effective,” she repeated, laughing.

You turned to the interviewer, pointing at Alexia. “This is why she stresses me out.”

Alexia raised an eyebrow. “You stress me out.”

The media crew was loving it. The interviewer barely held in their laughter.

“Alright, so if you had to pick one word to describe each other’s playing style?” they prompted.

Alexia didn’t even hesitate. “Unhinged.”

You let out a dramatic gasp. “That is so rude!”

“You’ve literally nutmegged someone while tying your shoe,” Alexia shot back. “I rest my case.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Fine. If I’m unhinged, then you’re bossy.”

Alexia smirked. “I am your captain, you know.”

“And I am your problem,” you teased back.

The media crew burst out laughing as Alexia groaned, throwing her head back.

“You are a menace.”

“And you love me.”

Alexia sighed, shaking her head with a smile. “Unfortunately.”

The interview wrapped up, but the banter continued as you walked off set.

“Chaotic?” you muttered. “That’s crazy. I bring excitement.”

“You bring stress,” Alexia corrected.

“Same thing.”

“Absolutely not.”

You smirked. “Admit it, though. You love playing with me.”

Alexia gave you a side glance, shaking her head. “I tolerate it.”

You grinned, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “I’ll take it.”

Everything was going smoothly—well, as smoothly as anything involving you ever could—until it was time to officially start the photoshoot for your signature cleats.

You stood in the center of the set, cleats laced up, lights shining, the Nike crew prepped and ready to go. Just as they were about to start, you clapped your hands together.

“Wait, hold on,” you said, making everyone pause. “Before we do this, we need to discuss the name of my cleats.”

Alexia, sitting off to the side watching, sighed deeply, already sensing disaster.

The Nike reps exchanged nervous glances.

“Alright, so,” you began confidently, “I was thinking we call them The Menace Ones.”

A heavy silence settled over the room.

“No,” Alexia said immediately.

“Okay, okay,” you continued, undeterred. “The Chaos Touch?”

“No.”

“The Ankle Breakers?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Nutmeg 3000?”

“Please stop talking,” Alexia groaned.

You turned to the Nike crew, hoping for support, but they all seemed too afraid to challenge Alexia’s authority.

“Fine, fine,” you huffed dramatically. “I’ll be normal about it.”

Alexia narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced.

For the next twenty minutes, you behaved. You posed, dribbled, and shot dramatic looks at the camera like a professional. Everything was going perfectly.

Then came the first break and you disappeared.

Five minutes later, you returned, dressed head to toe in an Adidas tracksuit. The entire room fell into stunned silence.

Alexia’s eyes widened in pure disbelief as she stared at you. “No.”

“What?” you said innocently, adjusting the collar of the jacket. “We’re on break.”

“TAKE THAT OFF,” Alexia demanded, already storming toward you.

“I just thought I’d switch things up—”

Before you could finish, she grabbed your arm and started dragging you toward the changing room.

“You are going to get us both killed,” she muttered through gritted teeth.

“You have to admit it’s a little funny,” you said, barely suppressing your grin.

Alexia shot you a glare. “You are lucky Nike likes you.”

“And you are lucky I love you enough to go change.”

Alexia sighed heavily, releasing you with one final warning look. “If you come out in Puma next, I’m leaving.”

The camera zooms in on your cleats as you spin them in your hands, running your fingers over the details. The black leather shimmers slightly under the studio lights, gold speckles running along the sides like stars scattered across the night sky. The laces are a deep navy, and the sole glows with a metallic silver finish. A rich purple fades into the black near the heel, blending seamlessly like the sky at dusk.

You smile softly, tilting the shoe toward the camera.

“These are the Estrella 001s—my first signature boots with Nike,” you say, voice filled with quiet pride. “The name comes from my nickname, Estrella, which means ‘star’ in Spanish. But it’s more than that.”

You turn the boot over, showing the gold lettering on the back heel tab, where Estrella 001 is printed vertically in a clean script.

“For me, stars have always meant guidance. I used to look up at them when I felt lost, like they were the only things that stayed constant. They remind me of my past, my struggles… everything that made me me.”

The camera pans over the subtle red and yellow stitching near the tongue of the cleat.

“This is for where I come from. Barcelona, Spain,” you continue. “I might not play for Spain anymore, but it’s still my home. It’s where I fell in love with football. Where I met the people who shaped me. I’ll never forget that.”

You flip the boot back over, running your thumb over the inside, where a tiny phrase is stitched in white.

“It says, ‘Siempre pa’lante.’ Always forward. That’s something Ale taught me when I was going through a tough time. I didn’t always believe it, but she did. And now? Now I do too.”

You set the cleat down and glance toward the camera, a small smile playing on your lips.

“But I wouldn’t be here without my family. My real family.”

Your eyes flick over to Alexia, standing off-camera.

“When Ale took me in, she gave me something I didn’t think I’d ever have again. A home. A place to belong. Someone who loved me without conditions.” You pause, voice thick with emotion. “She didn’t have to, but she did. And I’ll never be able to thank her enough for that.”

The camera smoothly shifts toward Alexia, who is very obviously blinking back tears, her lips pressed together tightly as she tries (and fails) to hold it together.

You grin. “Are you crying?”

She sniffs, shaking her head. “No.”

You smirk, standing up and walking over. “She’s crying.”

“I’m not—”

Before she can finish, you wrap your arms around her waist, pulling her into a tight hug. She exhales sharply, but her arms immediately come up to hold you close.

The camera catches the soft, warm moment between you two.

“You took me in,” you murmured. “You didn’t have to. But you did.”

Alexia’s arms tightened around you. “You were mine the second I saw you.”

You squeezed her tighter, voice thick. “Thank you for loving me, Ale.”

She kissed your forehead, whispering softly. “Siempre pa’lante, mi niña.”

[woso-story]

Always By Your Side

Alexia Putellas x Reader

You had always known that this day would come. Your dog Charlie was getting older—his fur a little whiter than before, his movements a little slower. But nothing could have prepared you for the moment when his body gave up before your heart was ready to let him go.

It started as just another night, curled up on the couch, watching Alexia play. The way she moved on the pitch always amazed you—graceful yet powerful, completely in control. Even through the screen, you could see the fire in her eyes, her determination as she fought for every ball. You cheered for her, smiling at how effortless she made everything look.

Charlie lay beside you, warm and comfortable, his tiny frame tucked under your arm as you absentmindedly ran your fingers through his soft fur. He had always been there—through every stage of your life, through every heartbreak and triumph. Fifteen years of unconditional love, of being your shadow, your best friend.

But then, out of nowhere, something changed.

A strange noise, almost a whimper. You looked down, heart immediately pounding as you realized something was wrong. His breathing was uneven, his little body trembling slightly.

“Charlie?” Your voice shook as you sat up. His eyes met yours, but they were clouded with something you couldn’t quite place—pain, maybe, or fear.

Panic set in. The game on the TV no longer mattered. You scooped him up, careful but urgent, grabbing your keys and rushing out the door. The drive to the emergency vet felt endless, your hands shaking on the wheel as you whispered reassurances to him, even though you weren’t sure he could hear you.

---

By the time you arrived, your stomach was twisted in knots. The waiting room was sterile, too bright, too cold. The vet took Charlie from your arms gently, but you already knew. The moment she looked at him, you saw it in her face.

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “His body is shutting down. There’s nothing we can do.”

The world seemed to tilt.

She explained it all—how his little heart was failing, how the best they could do was give him medicine to ease the pain for another week, maybe less. But prolonging it wouldn’t change the outcome.

Your voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t want him to suffer.”

Tears blurred your vision as you held Charlie one last time, whispering every single thing you needed him to know. How much you loved him, how much he had saved you in ways he would never understand. How grateful you were for every moment, every wag of his tail, every night he curled up beside you when you felt like the world was too much.

And then, he was gone.

A sob tore through your chest, and you didn’t try to hold it in. The vet placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, offering words of comfort that barely registered. Your body shook, your heart breaking into pieces as you clung to the empty space where Charlie had been.

Through the blur of pain, you managed to grab your phone and send a message to Alexia.

"I'm at the vet. Charlie is gone."

It was all you could get out before your hands failed you, before grief swallowed you whole.

---

Miles away in Madrid, Alexia had just stepped off the pitch when her phone buzzed. She grabbed a water bottle from the bench, glancing down at the screen, expecting a text about the game.

The moment she read your message, her stomach dropped.

She tried calling immediately, but it went straight to voicemail. Her heartbeat was in her throat as she tried again. Nothing.

She didn’t hesitate.

Within minutes, she had booked the next flight back to Barcelona, ignoring the confused looks from her teammates. She barely registered the hurried drive to the airport, the late-night flight, the exhaustion pulling at her muscles after ninety minutes on the pitch. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was getting to you.

By the time she arrived at your apartment, it was past 3 AM. The city was quiet, the streets nearly empty. Using the spare key you had given her, she let herself in.

The apartment felt… hollow.

She walked through the darkened space, noticing Charlie’s empty bed by the couch, the leash still hanging by the door. It hit her all at once—what this must have done to you. She knew how much Charlie meant to you. She had seen the way your face lit up every time he trotted over to you, how he had been your constant through so many years.

The bedroom door was slightly open. She stepped inside quietly, her chest tightening at the sight of you curled up in bed, clutching one of Charlie’s toys to your chest. Your face was streaked with dried tears, your body curled in on itself like you were trying to hold yourself together.

Alexia swallowed against the lump in her throat.

She placed a glass of water on your nightstand before slipping into bed behind you. She didn’t say anything—just wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close. The warmth of her body startled you awake, and for a moment, you were disoriented. Then you saw her.

Fresh tears welled up in your eyes as you turned and buried your face in her chest. Your body trembled with silent sobs, and she held you tighter, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m right here. Let it out, mi amor.”

And you did.

You cried until your body gave out, until the weight of grief became too much and sleep pulled you under once more.

---

The next morning, you woke up still wrapped in Alexia’s arms. The first thing you noticed was how sore your body felt—like you had been carrying something far too heavy for far too long.

She stirred beside you, brushing a few strands of hair from your face. “Drink some water,” she murmured, handing you the glass.

You took a few sips before setting it down, resting your head against her chest again. Neither of you spoke for a while, the silence filled only by the soft rise and fall of her breathing.

Finally, you whispered, “I don’t know how to do this without him.”

Alexia tightened her hold on you. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

You closed your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks again. “How did you get here so fast?”

She pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I took the next flight after your text. Nothing was more important than being here with you.”

Your heart ached, but this time, it wasn’t just from grief. It was from love.

You looked up at her, voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

She cupped your cheek gently, her thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Always.”

You knew the pain wouldn’t disappear overnight. Losing Charlie left a hole in your heart that nothing could truly fill. But as Alexia held you, grounding you, reminding you that you weren’t alone, you realized something.

You would get through this.

Because with Alexia by your side, you could get through anything.

[cryboutbueckers]

𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙘𝙚.

parings: toxic!paige x reader, cheater!paige x reader, sub!paige x dom!reader.

summary: in which you show paige you done playing with her.

warnings: cursing, smacking, nsfw content, a little bit of angst.

a/n: hey ya’ll i hope you guys like this, this is intended for black readers but anyone can read, lmk how i did!!

….

you were absolutely furious with paige, it’s currently 1 in the morning and she’s still not at home, you’ve checked her location and of course it was off. you’ve called, texted her multiple times only to be left on read, or delivered.

paige where u at?

read at 11:59pm.

so u jus gonna leave me on read???

read at 12:02am.

baby come home, please.

read at 12:20am.

paige, please.

read at 12:30am.

bet.

delivered.

you were in disbelief, you constantly begged this woman to do better, it was always a “im sorry baby, ur the only one i want and need.” and you always fell for if, fell for her tricks, and you’re sick of her bullshit. it’s currently 1:20am, your in a robe, a pink bonnet, and your cow slippers paige had bought you for christmas.

you walk downstairs, going to sit down on the couch deciding you were gonna wait for her to come in the house, so she could explain herself, hoping she really wasn’t doing what you think she’s doing, you love paige with all your heart, you two have been together for 2 years, did everything and anything with each other, your in love with paige, you cant help but fall for her silly tricks she plays on you, telling you everything you wanted to hear to get you right back where she wanted you to be.

an hour has passed by, as your on the couch damn near half asleep. you open your eyes looking next to you on the couch as you grab your phone tapping the screen twice so it could come on, it was 2am and she still wasn’t home. you sigh, throwing your phone across the couch in frustration as you sit there, overthinking filling your mind.

20 minutes pass by as your once again half asleep on the couch eyes opening up fully as you hear the front door open, it was her. your pissed, fuming actually, but she just looked so good it was almost hard to be mad at the woman. her dirty blonde hair was sleeked back into a low bun, as she had on a black essentials hoodie with baggy jeans, and jordan retro 5’s. her cologne filled the aroma, with a hint of perfume, your heart dropped.

“and so where the fuck you been at? i know you been seeing me blow your phone up dude.” you say sitting up from the couch, looking right directly at the tall blonde, only for her to walk past you completely ignoring you as she walks towards the stairs. you stomp your way over to her, aggressively turning her towards you. “you don’t hear me talkin to you?? you got some damn nerve coming home at 2am just to ignore me paige.”

the tall woman shrugs, “i been out with kk and the rest of the team, you know this y/n quit bitchin at me.” your heartbeat increases, eyes widening “bitchin? i been blowing your phone up for what 3 hours and get no response and then you have the audacity to walk in here and what ignore me?? u take me for a joke bueckers???”

the blonde tries to keep herself from laughing at the usage of her last name coming from your mouth as she speaks “listen baby ian say tha-“ you cut her off by raising your hand, landing a loud painful slap to her cheek. your so mad the stinging in your hand didn’t really bother you until you realized what you just did, you just put your hands on paige.

you look down at your hands, eyes widening as you look down at the woman who’s now sitting down on one of the steps on the stairs, looking up at you holding her cheek. you felt bad, really bad actually. but you needed to make your point. “you slapped me…” your heart beat increases even more as she finally spoke after what you just did.

“i did..” you look to the side slightly nervous, before looking back down at the blonde. “you can’t take that shit back y/n” she stands up, her figure towering over you, making you take a step back to avoid touching her.

paige was tall, not super tall but she was tall. standing at 6’0, all that tallness containing of pure muscle coming from her, meanwhile you only being 5’4, she definitely felt like she had some authority over you because of how bigger she was compared to you.

“and what makes you think i wanna take that shit back paige? you deserve that slap, for all the dumbass shit you’ve been me through these 2 years paige. TWO FUCKING YEARS PAIGE, you better listen to what the fuck i gotta say to your dumbass, that’s the least you could fucking do.” you shove her causing her to tumble a little back onto the stairs, sitting right back where she was before.

all she could do was stare at you, her face written with a shocked expression, sure you’ve yelled at her before but you never ever put your hands on her, you disrespected her. she couldn’t even fight back or anything but listen to you. “two fucking years paige, TWO LONG ASS YEARS WITH YOU.” your so close to her, spit was getting on her face from you yelling. “two fucking years, of you playing in my face, with the same bitch paige! the bitch not even cute.”

and again, all she could do was stare at you with those blue eyes of hers. your confidence you had made her wet, really wet. normally she was the one yelling at people, getting all in their faces, especially on the court. “are you even fucking hearing what im saying to you?” you look at her breathing hard as your breath hitches at what she says next.

“do somethin about it” what? is she playing? “w-what?” you lean back to take a full look at her. her eyes were signaling you something, she wanted something, you just couldn’t figure it out what it is. “you heard me, do somethin about it since you so mad” you raised your eyebrows as you grinned, all hell was about to break loose, and that’s how yall were here now.

you had her on the bed, her clothes long gone scattered around the room as she laid beneath you vulnerable. her legs were pressed up against her chest, fucking her with your (𝙝𝙚𝙧) purple strap. it had a good length to it, maybe almost to much for paige knowing its been a minute since she’s been like this, but you didn’t care, not at all right now.

her eyes were trying to stay present, threatening to roll back as you touched the most deepest parts in her, giving her no mercy as you pounded into her with every single thing you had left in you.

“p-please baby i cant no more” her hand pressing against your lower stomach trying to pull you out some, scoffing as you slap her hand away from you “you think i care about what u cant take paige? you didn’t care when you was out, ignoring me.” your words bringing back a familiar frustration within you.

all of a sudden, you put her legs on your shoulders thrusting back into her, she moans loudly at the new position, you getting impossibly deeper. she felt like she was about to explode. “m finna cum y/n~ p-please~” she looks up at you with her large blue eyes, her cheeks flushed red & her sleek back bun now messed up.

“you think you deserve to cum paige?, hm?” your hand slips down to rub fast circles on her clit sending her over the edge, toes curling over your shoulders. she lets out a scream/moan from the pleasure as her legs start to shake, you knew she was about to cum.

“and you better hold that shit” you remove the strap from her, replacing them with two of your fingers, curling them up to her special spot. your fingers moved hard against her walls you could hear them.

“ohhh fuckkk i cant i cant~ please ma” tears dropping down her face as she looks up at you, giving you desperate eyes. “you done playing with me?” you continue your brutal pace with your fingers, giving her direct eye contact. she’s to caught up with moaning, her eyes rolled back all the way back to her skull. “i said are you done playing paige” you use your other hand to slap her clit, immediately catching her attention as she twitches beneath you.

“yes m done playing i-i swear baby” she pants up at you. you grin looking down at her for a moment before finally letting her have a release.

“cum”, that was all she needed to hear before letting out a loud pornographic-like moan before squirting all over your fingers. “oh my fuck!”

“yea thats what i thought, dont ever play again.”

a/n: clearly im a beginner don’t judge to hard ya’ll🥲, i got sloppy at the end my bad for thattt, but i hope yall like it for the most part.

[geminiwritten]

baby sister ; jake 'hangman' seresin

fandom: top gun

pairing: jake x reader

summary: hangman has a serious crush on you, it might even be love, but it's a little complicated seeing as rooster is your older brother

notes: yes, i finally watched top gun (i'm stubborn, okay), and yes, i am obsessed! i'm not too sure how i feel about this, but it's my first one so please be kind! i also tried writing it by kind of switching pov's, so sorry if its weird / confusing! but as always, i love feedback so please, please let me know what you think x

warnings: swearing, very minor physical altercation with a creepy guy, boner joke, switching pov's (kind of), protective older brother, and likely some very inaccurate us navy details

word count: 7493

- One Year Ago -

The old bar smells exactly as you remember it; wood polish, worn leather, stale beer, and a hint of ocean air. It’s a lot cleaner than it used to be – the soles of your shoes aren’t sticking to the floor – and you assume that’s thanks to the new owner. It isn’t as busy as you would expect for Friday at 4PM, which you’re somewhat thankful for as you easily find a spare barstool beside the vacant pool table.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks with a polite smile.

“Just a water, please.”

He retrieves a bottle from the fridge below the bar while you check your pockets for cash, pulling out a few dollars and handing it to him in exchange for the water. He smiles again before turning around to serve patrons on the other side of the bar, and you start drawing shapes in the condensation of the bottle while you wait.

“This seat taken?” someone asks, appearing beside you.

Startled, you turn quickly to find a pair of green eyes much closer than expected. You’d have to be stupid not to immediately notice that this guy is gorgeous, but the smirk on his lips tells you that he knows it too.

“Not yet,” you reply with a tight-lipped smile.

He sits himself on the stool and signals the bartender, ordering a schooner of pale ale draught before pulling a few notes out of his back pocket. He isn’t in uniform, but you can tell by the way he holds himself that he’s an officer.

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” he says, “are you visiting?”

You nod before taking a large sip of water, your eyes constantly watching the new patrons that enter through the main door. You know better than to flirt with a lieutenant (guessing by his age), your mother always told you to stay away from military men.

“Have you been to North Island before?” he asks, seemingly unphased by your lack of enthusiasm for conversation.

“Yeah, a few times.”

“Military family?”

“Sort of,” you reply.

“Okay, let me guess,” he leans both elbows on the bar and looks at you, unleashing the full power of his pretty green eyes, “your dad was military, gone for months at a time with little to no contact, which left your mom to raise you all on her own. You would hear her crying at night and watch her struggle every day, but then when your dad got home, he was the hero; forget about all her hard work. Eventually, your mom got sick of being alone and began to resent him, so they grew apart and the next thing you know, dad moves out with his new girlfriend and mum tells you every single day never to date a man in the military.”

You can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips, because damn this man is pretty, and you simply can’t find it in yourself to ignore him.

“Close,” you say, “but it was her first husband who was military, and he died in action. My father was a banker, safe but boring, and it didn’t work out. But you are right about one thing; mom has always told me not to date a man in the military.”

“Oh,” he takes a long sip of his beer, stalling as he tries to think of something to say that isn’t totally insensitive.

“Not that I always listen to what she says,” you add with a smirk, making him choke on his mouthful of beer.

He looks back at you, shocked but still smiling, “Are you flirting with me?”

Your turn sideways on the stool to face him, opening your mouth to reply when a familiar sight walking toward you catches your attention. You stop and smile, looking straight past the man sitting beside you.

“Hey Baby,” Bradley says with a grin.

“Hey,” you jump off the stool, “how are you?”

“Woah, hey,” the green-eyed man stands too, a slight frown between his brows, "Rooster, c’mon man. You’re going to have to find yourself another girl; let’s not make this a competition too.”

Bradley’s brows shoot up toward his hairline, and you have to roll your lips to keep from giggling.

“Oh, here we go,” one of the men who walked in with Bradley chuckles, and you think you can remember meeting him the last time you visited.

“A competition?” Bradley repeats, his tone mildly threatening.

“Wait,” the man glances between you and Bradley, “are you two dating?”

Bradley scoffs, “Absolutely not.”

“Then why did you call her baby?”

“It’s her nickname, genius,” the same man as before says, and you suddenly remember Bradley introducing him to you last summer. You never did find out his real name, but they call him Payback.

The green-eyed man turns to you in shock, “Like, your call sign?”

You shake your head, “I don’t fly.”

“She wishes,” Bradley says as he slings an arm around your shoulders. “Hangman, this is Baby, as in my baby sister.”

The poor man chokes so hard on his beer, you’re surprised it doesn’t spray out his nose. He coughs and splutters, holding a hand on his chest while the rest of Bradley’s friends laugh from around the pool table. Bradley chuckles too, seemingly satisfied with the damage he’s caused, before turning to give you a proper hug.

“How was the flight?” he asks.

“Not terrible, but I swear my bag was the last to come out on the carousel.”

He releases you from his hold and orders two beers from the bartender, handing you one soon as its poured. “You remember my friends, don’t you?” he asks as he turns to face the game of pool, “Payback and Fanboy, and that’s Bob; I don’t think you met him last summer.”

You smile and give an awkward wave, not bothering to walk around and shake everyone’s hands in the middle of a game.

“Dude,” Fanboy says to Hangman, who is now standing on the opposite side of the pool table, “I can’t believe you were hitting on Rooster’s little sister.”

“Hey,” Hangman frowns, “she was hitting on me back.”

Bradley’s head whips toward you, his eyes wide, “You what?”

“Oh, calm down Braddy,” you say, “I can look after myself.”

Payback snickers, “Braddy?”

“Aw, Braddy,” Fanboy coos.

Bradley shoots you a glare as you slip out from under his arm to find a seat, grinning sheepishly at your brother as his friends continue to mock your nickname for him. After half an hour and two pool games – these guys are freakishly good – another two lieutenants join the group, introducing themselves as Coyote and Phoenix.

“So,” Phoenix says as she sits on the stool beside you, “what brings you to North Island, aside from missing your big brother?”

Even though Bradley’s back is to you as he takes a shot, you know he’s rolling his eyes.

“Well, I usually try and visit more than once a year, but he’s hardly been on the ground in the past twelve months,” you say, “then Uncle Pete called me a few weeks ago and said he was going on a trip with Penny. So, he asked if I could come babysit Braddy for a while.”

“Aw,” she giggles, “Braddy needs a babysitter?”

Bradley flicks your arm as he walks past, circling the pool table to find the best angle, “Would you stop telling people embarrassing shit about me.”

You shrug, “How was I supposed to know that you were pretending to be cool?”

The rest of the group laugh as Bradley completely botches his shot, sinking the white ball.

“I’m sorry, Rooster, but I definitely like her better,” Hangman says with a smirk.

You roll your lips as you look over at the lieutenant, appreciating how tight his t-shirt is as he bends forward over the pool table to take his shot.

Bradley points at him, “You better cut it out, she is off limits.”

- Present -

You decided to move to San Diego about two weeks after flying in last summer, and it had nothing to do with the beach day you went on with Bradley and his friends, where Jake tackled you in the surf, all shirtless and wet and muscly. Bradley was beyond excited to have his little sister closer to him, he even helped get you a desk job in the operations department. It wasn’t anything close to what he was doing, protecting the country and all that, but you’re liking it way better than your old job. Which again, has nothing to do with the fact that you get to take lunch breaks with a certain lieutenant. Your brother is there too, but you don’t fancy staring at him, you’ve seen enough of him over the years.

“Are you going to eat or stare?” Natasha asks, nudging your side with her elbow.

The mouthful of pasta that had been balancing on your fork falls off and plops back into your bowl. You turn to her, your eyebrows furrowed, “Huh?”

“My God, you’re practically drooling.”

“Is the pasta good?” Jake asks, clearly having overheard and misunderstood your conversation, “I knew I should have chosen that; the sloppy joes are too sloppy.”

He leans across the table and takes your fork, stabbing it into a few pieces of pasta before popping it in his mouth. Your heart thuds in your chest as you watch his lips wrap around the utensil that was previously in your mouth, and you want to be ashamed of yourself for allowing something so frivolous to get you so excited, but you simply can’t help it. With your brother the constant cock-block always hanging around, sharing a fork is the closest you’ve gotten to Jake in the year that you’ve been here.

“Mm,” he groans, “that is good.”

“You can have it,” you push the bowl toward him, “I’m not that hungry.”

“Yeah, and you just contaminated her fork,” Bradley says, smacking Jake’s shoulder.

“I don’t think she minds,” Natasha pipes in.

Oblivious, Jake looks up with a huge mouthful of pasta making his cheeks puff out, and somehow, he still looks adorable. You shoot a subtle glare at Natasha from the corner of your eye before picking up the apple from your tray and biting into it.

“So,” you turn your attention to your brother, “The Hard Deck after work?”

He nods, “Yep, I’ve got a year of free beers to win.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, “It’s cute that you think you have a chance of winning in a pool comp against me.”

“Or me,” Jake adds.

Bradley snorts, “Please, you’ve been so off your game lately, and Phoenix” – he turns to look at her – “is good, but not as good as me.”

“You are so full of yourself, do you know that?” Natasha says, her eyes narrowed at Bradley.

You quickly tune out as they launch into a petty argument about who is better at pool and who is going to win The Hard Deck’s billiards tournament, having heard it almost a hundred times over the past month. It’s an eight-week competition, every Thursday night, and this is only the fifth week but you’re pretty sure you’re going to kill your brother if he doesn’t stop bragging about being undefeated so far. Then again, he hasn’t yet had to play against half of the dagger squad, arguably the best pool players on North Island.

“Alright, we better go,” Bradley says, nudging Jake again.

Jake scrapes the last of the pasta from the bowl into his mouth before standing from his chair and leaning across the table toward you. “Thanks Baby,” he says with a wink, “I owe you one.” He drops the empty bowl on your tray and slides your tray across the table, stacking it on top of his.

When he straightens up, both trays in his hands, Bradley is glaring. “Watch it, Seresin.”

“What? I was just thanking her,” Jake says innocently, “don’t get your panties in a knot.”

You roll your eyes and stand up from your chair, “See you guys later, then?”

Jake can’t help himself, and he turns toward you wearing his most charming grin, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Dude!” Bradley exclaims, smacking him in the shoulder.

Natasha sighs, despite the amused smirk on her lips, “Come on you two, fight about it later.”

You roll your lips to keep from giggling, because you know that will only irritate Bradley more, but you’re pretty sure your cherry red cheeks are about to give something away. Before your brother can notice the way Jake’s words have affected you, you turn on your heel and head back toward your office, anticipation bubbling in your stomach for tonight.

- Jake -

Maverick ended today’s training half an hour early, dismissing everyone but Rooster since he still had sixty-two push ups to do after betting that he could catch Phoenix and Bob before Mav could. He was wrong, but Jake admires the cockiness.

The rest of the squad have already made their way to the locker rooms, eager to shower and change and get to The Hard Deck for a well-earned drink. There’s no current mission for the dagger squad, no impending doom, so that on top of the excitement for the billiards comp has everyone in the highest of spirits. Everyone but Jake, of course.

He’s the last to enter the locker room, dragging his feet and slowly unzipping his flight suit as he weaves through the rest of the boys toward his locker. He isn’t sad by any means, just frustrated, because it seems that the longer you live in San Diego, the more protective your brother gets. His rule about you being off limits isn’t easing any time soon, and neither is Jake’s crush.

“What’s the matter with you?” Coyote asks, shoving his flight suit into his locker right beside Jake’s.

“Hm?” Jake looks up from his feet, “Oh, nothing, just distracted.”

Payback peers around from the other side of Coyote’s locker, his lips curled into a smirk, “So, how’s that hideously inappropriate and all-consuming crush on Rooster’s little sister going?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s great,” Jake says sarcastically, “I should be ready to kill myself any day now.”

The rest of the boys dissolve into laughter, each pausing in various stages of undress to giggle about Jake’s unfortunate situation. Everyone but Rooster and Phoenix know at this point, having easily figured it out by the way Jake can’t seem to focus anytime you’re in the same room, and thankfully, none of them plan on outing his little secret anytime soon. Jake likes to think it’s because they’re afraid that Rooster might shoot the messenger, and while that might be a small part of it, he knows it’s really because they feel sorry for him. The first girl who Hangman actually wants something real with, and it’s the little sister of Bradley Bradshaw.

However, Jake is surprised that Phoenix hasn’t yet figured it out, but grateful nonetheless, since she’s way too close to you to have that kind of ammunition under her belt. There have been a few times where he thought she might be onto him, little glances at you whenever he gets too flirty and subtle comments that could have underlying meanings, but she hasn’t confronted him about it yet, so he assumes she’s just as clueless as Rooster is.

“Come on, Hangman,” Fanboy says from the opposite row of lockers, “it can’t be that bad.”

“You want to bet?” Jake asks, glancing over his shoulder. “I got half a bar at lunch today because I used the same fork as her.”

The laughter, having died down for a moment, picks up again with renewed vigour. Even Bob, who is usually quiet and refuses to comment when the boys start teasing Jake about his crush, is giggling into his open locker, shoulders shaking.

“Oh, man,” Coyote says between fits of laughter, “you’re down bad.”

“What’s so funny?” Rooster asks, standing in front of the door as it swings shut behind him.

The laughter quickly subsides and everyone turns to hide their faces in their lockers, all but Jake who is left staring at Rooster’s quizzical frown.

“Coyote was just saying that he nearly soiled himself today when Mav pulled that cobra manoeuvre in front of him,” Jake lies, at which Coyote shoots him a glare.

Rooster chuckles, “Oh, really? I didn’t catch that.”

“Too busy running your mouth, Rooster,” Fanboy chimes in.

“Yeah, how’s your stomach after those two-hundred push ups?” Payback asks as he walks toward Rooster with an evil grin, reeling his fist back to strike his friend in the abdomen.

Rooster evades the attack, eyes wide, “Don’t even think about it, my abs are on fire right now.”

Jake relaxes as casual conversation picks back up; Rooster seemingly fooled by his lie as he jokes around with the rest of the squad. They all strip out of their flight suits and shower before changing into civilian clothes, packing their gear into their lockers, and heading out the door. Those who aren’t headed to The Hard Deck bid their goodbyes, while those eager for a beer begin making their way to the bar.

“Should we wait for the girls?” Jake asks as they walk toward Rooster’s car.

“Well, at least one of us has to,” Bob replies, glancing around the group of six.

Rooster tosses his keys in the air and catches them again in the palm of his hand, “Fight it out amongst yourselves boys.”

“It’s fine, I’ll wait for them,” Jake offers quickly.

Fanboy has to stifle his laughter behind his hand, pretending to rub his nose.

“That’s unlike you to be so obliging, Hangman,” Coyote says, his narrowed eyes telling Jake that he’s still bitter about being thrown under the bus earlier.

“I actually think I left my watch in my locker, so I have to run back anyway,” Jake lies again.

“Easy done,” Rooster, oblivious as ever, says, “climb on in fellas, I’m thirsty.”

The rest of the group all move toward Rooster’s car and pile in, while Jake turns his back and pulls out his phone to text Phoenix, asking her to wait for him if the two of you exit the locker room before he’s done ‘looking for his watch’.

More and more of late, Jake has been doing things that are ‘unlike him’ in order to gain more time with you away from your brother, the ever-present cock-block. It isn’t often that he has the chance, and he knows his behaviour is becoming noticeable, but until Rooster confronts him for trying to spend time with you, he’s going to keep trying.

He runs in and out of the locker room, simply to keep up the lie, before fishing his watch out of his pocket and strapping it to his wrist as he walks back toward the car park. He could recognise you from a mile away, all perfect and effortless, leaning casually against Phoenix’s car and twirling a stray piece of hair as Phoenix talks to you. The closer he gets, the more he can see that whatever Phoenix is saying is intense, and it’s making you nervous. Your hair twirling is less idle and more anxious as Phoenix stresses her words with her hands, looking exasperated.

A part of him wants to sneak up and try to catch the conversation, but before he can think too hard about how he could become stealthier, Phoenix spots him. “Come on Bagman, hurry it up!” she calls across the lot.

You glance over your shoulder, locking eyes with him and he simply cannot stop the grin that takes over his lips. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, Trace,” he says, though his eyes never leave yours.

Phoenix scoffs, “What’s your obsession with panties today?”

When he comes within a few feet of you, he frowns and turns his attention to Phoenix, “What?”

“First Rooster at lunch and now me,” she says. “Are you not getting laid or something?”

The way her eyes drift over to you as she speaks, a smirk threatening to curl her lip, has Jake’s heart racing. Does she know? How could she know?

He clears his throat and wills himself to seem unaffected by her taunt, but whatever smart-lipped quip that he would usually respond with refuses to pop into his head. He panics, sweat prickling the back of his neck. Phoenix turns her attention away from you and back to him, her playful smile slowly fading as the silence stretches and he struggles to retort. If she didn’t know before, she definitely knows now.

“Oh, leave him alone, Nat,” your voice breaks the tension, “we all know Hangman has no trouble with the ladies.”

Phoenix shakes her head, as if needing the physical queue to stop her own spiralling thoughts. “So he tells us,” she says, grabbing the handle on the driver’s side door, “but I’m yet to witness his skills in action.”

She casts Jake one last dubious glance before opening the door and taking her seat behind the wheel. You turn to him then, your gaze holding him captive as you ask, “Do you want shotgun?”

He shakes his head, swallowing on his dry throat, “You take it, I’m good in the back.”

- You -

Jake looks like he’s seen a ghost as he stares out the window of the car, watching the Naval Air Station pass by as Natasha drives toward the exit gates. You can’t help glancing at him in the rear view mirror every few seconds, only able to see a portion of his side profile with the angle of the mirror, but it’s still enough to know that he doesn’t look normal.

As a matter of fact, Natasha looks a little odd too, as if she’s trying to silently solve a math problem in her head. Her eyes are narrowed, her brows furrowed, and her hands are holding the steering wheel tightly at ten and two. She too keeps glancing in the rearview mirror, whether looking at Jake or simply checking the traffic, you can’t tell, but her shoulders stay tense and her lips pressed firmly together.

“So,” you say, swivelling in your chair to properly look at Jake, “how was flight school?”

His face breaks into a soft smile and your pulse triples its speed, your heart thundering in your chest as you stare into his pretty green eyes. “I graduated flight school a while ago, darlin’,” he says.

You love when he uses a pet name other than your nickname, because ‘baby’ just doesn’t have the same ring when its something your whole family uses.

“I know, but I heard Maverick over the comms say that he was going to send the lot of you back to flight school.”

Jake chuckles, “You were listening on the comms?”

You shrug, “Sometimes I listen in, just to be nosey.”

You really only do it so you can enjoy Jake’s voice throughout the day, because something about Jake in that cockpit doing what he does best gets you incredibly hot and bothered. What can you say? You’re a masochist.

“Well, I better start watching my language,” he says, “or I can just tell Mav that you’ve been listening in.”

Your eyes widen, “You wouldn’t do that.”

His smile turns into a smirk, “You sure about that?”

All you want to do is crawl into the back seat and crush your lips against his. He looks good enough to eat right now, fresh from a shower, his damp hair a little spikier than usual, and his green eyes sparkling with mischief and something else you can’t quite place.

“Speaking of Mav,” Natasha pipes in, “he said he was going to stop by the bar tonight.”

Great, not only a brother but a cock-blocking uncle too. Well, uncle figure.

“Oh, fun,” you say, trying not to sound so sarcastic, but Natasha isn’t stupid. She catches your displeased tone and shoots you a knowing look, her lips now curled into a smug smile. At least she seems to have figured out her math problem.

A minute later, Natasha pulls the car into the gravel parking lot of The Hard Deck bar. She finds a park right next to Rooster’s car, and the three of you climb out in silence. You can hear the jukebox playing from outside as you approach the main door, Natasha in the lead and typing a message on her phone while you and Jake follow closely behind.

“Nervous?” you ask him, referring to the pool comp.

He chuckles, “Only because you’ll be watching, darlin’.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, their wings making you sick with nerves as they flutter violently. You want to reply, but your brain is complete mush as you stare back at his gorgeous grin, so all you can do is playfully roll your eyes and bump your shoulder against his.

The three of you enter the bar and make a beeline for the familiar faces seated at the booth closest to the pool table. The cues and balls are nowhere to be found, and there’s a sign written in black marker laying on the green felt that reads ‘POOL COMP IN SESSION, DO NOT TOUCH’.

Before you can reach your brother and the rest of the squad, Natasha grabs your hand and tugs you toward the bar. “Want a drink?” she asks, moving too quickly for Jake to follow.

You glance over your shoulder and watch him watch you with a confused frown as he takes a seat at the booth with the rest of the group. Natasha pulls you a decent way away from the squad, finding an open space at the bar and leaning against it, but she doesn’t flag down Penny or Jimmy.

“I think Seresin likes you,” she says, her voice low and eyes wide.

Your stomach does a somersault, “What?”

“I can’t believe it took me this long to figure out, but” – she smacks her hands on the bar emphatically – “he really likes you.”

“Is that why you were so tense before?”

“Yes, because I-”

“Hey ladies,” Penny interrupts, an easy smile on her lips, “what are we drinking tonight?”

“Hey Penny,” you muster your best I’m Totally Not Freaking Out Right Now smile, “two schooners of the pale ale, please.”

She nods once and fills two schooner glasses, sliding them across the bar and taking the cash from Natasha’s outstretched hand.

“Thanks Penny,” Natasha says, before taking a big gulp from her glass.

You tip your own drink to your lips and drain half of it, plonking it back down and wiping the foam from the tip of your nose before turning back to your friend. “You were saying?”

“Before, when he came up to us in the parking lot,” she explains, “I made some stupid joke about him not getting laid and I looked at you, because duh, but so did he.”

You frown, “And?”

“And he looked totally panicked.”

“Maybe he was just embarrassed.”

She rolls her eyes, “That wasn’t embarrassment, he looked like I’d just outed his biggest secret, and he didn’t even comeback with some stupid, sarcastic comment.”

You sigh, “Nat, I love you, but I think you’ve gone insane. Jake doesn’t see me as anything more than Bradley’s baby sister, he’s probably just fried from work and couldn’t think of anything on the spot.”

“You’re never going to believe me, are you?”

You shrug, “Probably not.”

“Okay, fine,” she picks her drink up and steps back from the bar, “I’ll find a way.”

She starts walking back toward the booth where the rest of the squad are, and you quickly pick up your own half-empty schooner before following her with an amused smile on your lips. Natasha is anything if not determined.

- Jake -

Jake releases the breath he’s been holding from the moment Phoenix dragged you away from the group, toward the bar. He can’t remember the last time he felt this nervous, his sweaty palms pressed against his jean-clad thighs as he watches the two of you approach the booth. He has no idea what Phoenix just told you, and he has no idea if Phoenix really knows what he thinks she knows, but his nerves are firing on every cylinder regardless.

“This seat taken?” you ask him as Phoenix takes the spare spot beside Bob.

He shakes his head, “All yours, darlin’.”

“Careful, Hangman,” Fanboy chuckles, “don’t want Rooster hearing that.”

Jake rolls his eyes, forcing his demeanour to appear relaxed, “Rooster’s all talk.”

“That so?” Rooster asks, stepping up to the booth with a tray of beers.

Laughter rumbles through the group.

“I guess we’ll find out later tonight,” Phoenix chimes in, “you two are versing each other in the second game.” She slides the schedule for tonight’s games across the table toward Jake, pointing at the names beneath ‘Game #2’.

“I guess we will,” Jake says, plastering on his cockiest smirk.

Rooster rolls his eyes before turning to find a spare chair, since both sides of the booth are very full. On one side, Coyote, Bob, and Phoenix are sitting side by side, and on the other is Payback, Fanboy, Jake, and you pressed firmly against Jake’s side. He doesn’t mind, of course, because your leg is warm against his, and with his arm slung over the back of the booth, you fit almost perfectly against his side. In fact, he’s surprised Rooster hasn’t said anything yet.

After two rounds of beer and a lot of banter, it’s time for Jake and Rooster to compete. Penny calls them over to the table and sets it up, handing each of them a cue before rattling off the rules as she did before the first game. They flip a coin and Rooster calls heads, but tails lands face-up and Jake gets to break.

He can hear his heartbeat in his ears as he lines his cue up with the white ball, a small voice at the back of his head demanding he look cool since you were a mere three feet away, watching. He takes a deep breath, reminding himself that this is an easy game, before releasing his shot and sending the balls scattering.

The game begins smoothly, each of the lieutenants lining their shots up with precision and hitting the balls with calculated force. They each sink a few, and at about halfway through, the game is tightly tied.

“Come on, Seresin,” Rooster mutters as Jake bends over for his next shot, “what does it take to make you crack?”

Like the idiot he is, Jake lets his eyes wander away from the white ball and across the green felt until they find you, still sitting at the booth on the opposite side of the pool table. Without thinking, his back hand jabs the cue forward, but without his full focus, it knocks the white ball on a short and wobbly path toward nothing in particular.

The spectators give a sad ‘ooh’ as Jake sighs, and Rooster smirks, “Now who’s all talk?”

Jake only shakes his head and moves away from the table. Since the white ball hadn’t made it all that far, Rooster positions himself almost exactly where Jake had been, bending over the table a little further and aiming his cue at the white ball. He focuses for a moment, scanning the constellation of balls across the felt before he glances up and notices you. From where he’s positioned, he is looking directly at you, exactly as Jake had been when he fumbled his shot.

Rooster’s smirk drops and his gaze moves slowly toward Jake, his knuckles turning white as his grip on the cue tightens. Jake’s heart crawls up into his throat, his palms sweating as he stares back at Rooster. Did he just figure it out?

Rooster takes the shot and sinks two balls before repositioning himself and sinking another one. His next shot puts the white ball in an awkward spot for Jake, and he fumbles again. He’s lost all focus, unable to see anything but your gorgeous face or your brother’s murderous one.

After ten more minutes, the game is over and Penny is announcing Rooster as the winner. Jake isn’t knocked out of the competition, but he doesn’t have to play again tonight, which he is more than grateful for.

“Alright, Rooster,” Penny says, “you’ve got five minutes and then it’s you and Fitz.”

Jake finishes his beer before quickly excusing himself to the men’s room, avoiding eye contact with every member of the squad as he hurries through the bar. Once in the safe confines of a bathroom stall, he covers his face with both of his hands and sighs, loudly.

After everything – all the stolen glances and subtle flirting, every excuse to see you or talk to you – did Rooster really just figure it out in the middle of a stupid pool game?

“This is ridiculous,” Jake mutters to himself as he rubs his hands down his face.

He’s never felt this way about anyone before and he has no idea how to deal with it. The nerves are different than what he’s used to, it’s not like before a mission when he can channel his anxiousness into anticipation and put all his focus into being an expert pilot. Because he knows his jet inside out, and he knows the cockpit like the back of his hand, but this? It’s all different. He doesn’t know what this feeling is because he’s only ever felt this strongly about one thing before; flying. But right now he’s pretty sure he would spend the rest of his life on the ground if it meant the rest of his life would be spent with you.

He stays in the stall for another few minutes, making sure Rooster’s second game of pool is well and truly underway by the time he exits the bathroom. The door to the men’s room has hardly swung shut behind him when Phoenix appears in front of him, startling him.

“Far out, can’t a guy catch a break?” he gasps.

“Were you in there crying about your defeat or just hiding from Rooster?” she asks, her expression deadpan.

He frowns, feigning confusion, “What? Why would I be hiding from Rooster?”

“Because you’re in love with his baby sister.”

The panic he had managed to subdue mere minutes ago returns with a vengeance, coursing through his veins like a thousand volts of electricity. He scrambles for a defence, words, anything. “W-Wha- Phoenix, I- you don’t-”

“Save it,” she interrupts him, rolling her eyes, “I’m not going to interrogate you or try to talk you into making a move.”

His tangled mind struggles to follow along, “Why would you-”

“He is,” she says, pointing at their captain who is sitting alone at the end of the bar.

Jake’s stomach flips, “He is what?”

“Going to talk to you.”

She grabs his wrist, the strength of her grip surprising him even though he knows she’s just as strong as he is. She drags him toward the bar where Maverick is sitting, sipping his beer and watching the pool competition with keen eyes.

“Evening, Captain,” Jake says, and he knows the moment it leaves his lips that he’s being unusually formal.

Phoenix rolls her eyes again, dramatically. “All yours, Mav,” she says, before turning on her heel and returning to the booth with the rest of the squad.

“Hangman,” Maverick says, a hint of a smirk on his lips, “take a seat.”

Jake swallows hard as he sits on the barstool beside his captain.

“You know,” Mav continues, “you haven’t addressed me as captain in a very long time.”

“Well,” Jake says, “it's never too late to make a good impression.”

Maverick chuckles quietly before tipping the last of his beer to his lips. When he puts the glass back down on the bar, Penny takes it, offering Jake a small, almost sympathetic smile as she does.

Mav turns on his stool to face Jake, “I’ve noticed you’ve been acting a little different lately. Want to talk about it?”

Jake clears his throat, “I’m not quite sure what you mean, Cap- uh, Mav.”

“You sure about that?” Maverick asks as he looks away from Jake, casting his gaze across the bar toward the booth where the dagger squad are seated. “If I had to guess, I’d say you’ve been acting strangely ever since Y/N moved here.”

Hearing your name is the closest thing to a prayer in Jake’s ears, because he is so used to hearing your nickname, that hearing your real name feels reverent.

He sighs, admitting defeat, “Who told you?”

Mav chuckles again, “Technically, Phoenix did, but no one had to tell me. I might be old, but I’m not stupid, and I’ve lived long enough to recognise the way you look at her.”

Jake frowns, “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“I was kind of enjoying the way you’ve been sucking up to Rooster,” Mav replies sheepishly, “letting him be team leader in all the mission simulations, buying him beers every weekend, and letting him win at pool of course.”

Jake can feel his cheeks burning, “I didn’t let him win, Mav, I just can’t focus when she’s around.”

Maverick claps a hand on Jake’s shoulder, leaning on him slightly as stands up. “Then stop being so scared of her big brother and do something about it, before someone else does.”

He nods toward the squad again before stepping back and walking behind Jake, around the bar toward the pool table. Jake’s eyes follow his captain as he circles the bar, stopping to watch the game of pool on the opposite side of the table to where the dagger squad are seated. When Jake’s eyes pass over the intense game between Rooster and Fitz, his breath catches in his throat.

- You -

You had gotten up to go to the bathroom when this man cornered you, stopping you on your way and trapping you against a wall on the other side of the booth. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him around work, but you can’t be sure, because the only person you do recognise in the sea of naval uniforms on base is Jake. This man is not Jake, and that is one of the main reasons why you can’t be bothered to listen to a single thing he is saying.

“Do you think you’ll stay in San Diego for long?”

You look up at him, pressing your shoulder blades into the wall in an attempt to create more distance between you and him. “Um, probably,” you reply.

You glance quickly over your shoulder, for once wishing that your police dog of a brother would do what he does best and scare this man away, but he’s too focused on his pool competition.

“That’s great,” the man leans even closer, his breath wreaking of alcohol, “maybe we can get together sometime, alone.”

You press your lips into a tight smile, neither wanting to accept nor reject the man’s proposal in the current, vulnerable position in which he has you trapped. When he opens his mouth to speak again, a cheer erupts behind you and Penny announces Rooster as the overall champion of the night. You clap your hands and smile at your brother as he does a few dramatic bows.

You turn back to the man with your excuse for escape on the tip of your tongue, “I better go-”

“We should get some fresh air,” he says, grabbing one of your wrists in a vice grip.

Panic washes over you, a cold sweat breaking out across the back of your neck as he tugs on your arm. You stumble forward and glance over your shoulder, hoping that someone has noticed, but he chose the perfect time. The rest of the squad have rushed to the pool table, taking the cues from Penny to set up their own game while other pub patrons congratulate Rooster on his win.

Just as the man reaches the doors leading onto the beach, Rooster’s eyes find you. His grin vanishes and he quickly tries to step away from the crowd surrounding him, but Maverick appears at his side with a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. What the fuck?!

You watch Maverick say something to Rooster, who’s eyes then dart away from you and toward something across the bar, but before you can follow his gaze, the man tugs you out the door. The cool night air bites at your bear arms as you stumble down the wooden steps onto the sand.

“Much better,” the man says, finally releasing you.

You turn sharply to run back into the bar, but you only make it two steps before coming face to chest with someone else. You know who it is even before you look up to find a very concerned pair of pretty green eyes.

“Jake,” you breathe, your body relaxing as he wraps an arm around you.

The man steps toward you again, “Hey, what the-”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Jake exclaims. “Who the fuck do you even think you are dragging a girl out of the bar when she clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you?”

“I don’t recall hearing her saying no,” the man argues, puffing out his chest.

“Because you didn’t give her a fucking chance,” Jake spits.

He takes half a step forward, guiding you behind his body as the man grounds himself as if getting ready to throw a punch. Your stomach sinks and the lump in your throat doubles in size at the thought of Jake getting hurt for you. Just as you think the man is about to wind his arm back, his scowl shifts to something behind you and his jaw goes slack. Glancing over your shoulder, you see Javy and Reuben step out of the bar and your heart aches with fondness.

Without so much as another word, the man shoots Jake one last look before turning and walking away. Javy and Reuben chuckle to each other before stepping back inside the bar, leaving you and Jake alone on the sand.

“Hey,” he turns to face you, “are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you drop your gaze to your shoes, “sorry about that.”

He hooks a finger beneath your chin and tilts your head back up, “Don’t be silly, that was not your fault and nothing to be sorry about.”

Your heart is pounding in your ears, drowning out the music from the bar and the sound of waves crashing. All you can feel is Jake, close and comforting, and staring down at you as if he might want to kiss you too.

“Well,” you step toward him, as close as you can get without pressing your body against his, “then I’m sorry about what might happen to you after I do this.”

You curl your fingers into the material at the collar of his shirt and pull him forward, stretching up onto your toes to meet his lips with yours. He’s startled at first, but quickly responds, his hands grabbing your hips and pulling your body against his. He tastes like beer and spearmint gum, his lips soft as that move with yours, fitting together in the most perfect way. As you take a quick breath, his tongue slides past your lips and he tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

You wrap your arms around his neck to hold yourself up, and just as his hands begin sliding down your hips, you’re both startled by a loud wolf whistle. You both turn toward the bar and see Mickey with his head out the window and a stupidly wide grin plastered across his face. The rest of the squad are all pressed against the glass, almost completely fogging it up as they cheer and wave.

“Oh, God,” Jake sighs, “Rooster is going to kill me.”

You can’t help but giggle, “Don’t worry, Hangman, I’ll protect you this time.”

Inside the bar, your brother turns to Maverick, having to look away as you pull Jake into another kiss. “You’re seriously okay with this?” he asks, “You’re okay with Hangman sticking his tongue down the throat of my baby sister?”

Maverick chuckles, “She’s not just your baby sister Bradley, and that’s not Hangman. That’s Jake and Y/N, and it looks to me like they might be in love.”

Bradley rolls his eyes and pretends to gag, deciding to ignore the scene on the beach and return his attention to the pool table. He knows deep down that Maverick is right, so he silently gives his blessing while starting a list in his head of what he will and will not allow the two of you to do in front of him.

END.

[amirasainz]

Hello, would it be alright if i requested an f1 x driver reader where the retired drivers like seb, kimi and jenson where they’re like grid dads for the reader

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💜

Always have her back

The paddock was unusually quiet for a Thursday, but Yn could feel the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders. She kept her head low, sunglasses shielding her tired eyes from the prying lenses of photographers. The echoes of last weekend’s race still rang in her ears—screeching tires, the sudden thud, Lando’s voice crackling over the radio, “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m fine. Just unlucky, huh?”

But the media didn’t care about accidents or bad luck. They cared about headlines, and Yn had become their favourite target.

“Too emotional.”

“Not cut out for F1.”

“This is what happens when you let a woman race with the big boys.”

The words burned in her mind, each headline another jab at her confidence. She tried to shrug it off, but every question in the press conference, every snide comment from pundits, was like pouring salt into an open wound.

“Hey,” a soft voice called from behind her. She turned to see Charles, his green eyes filled with concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she lied, forcing a smile. “Just… long day.”

He wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t push. “We’re having dinner tonight. Come with us?”

She shook her head. “Not in the mood, Charles. Sorry.”

Charles watched her walk away, jaw tightening. This wasn’t right. None of it was. Lando had defended her countless times since the crash, even standing up to reporters, but they wouldn’t let it go. And Yn, the fiery, determined driver they all admired, was beginning to crumble under the pressure.

He pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. His finger hovered over a familiar name before pressing the call button.

“Hello?” a calm voice answered.

“Seb, I need your help.”

---

By Friday morning, the paddock was abuzz with whispers. Reporters glanced at each other in confusion as Sebastian walked through the gates, a familiar smirk playing on his lips. But it wasn’t just Seb. Kimi followed close behind, his signature stoic expression making the cameras shy away from approaching him.

“Seb! Kimi! What brings you here?” Carlos greeted them with his usual grin.

“Came to see a friend,” Seb replied simply, eyes scanning the crowd.

“Did Charles call you?” Lando asked quietly, already guessing the reason for their unexpected visit.

Seb nodded. “How bad is it?”

“She’s holding up, but barely,” Lando admitted, guilt flashing across his face. “I hate that this is happening because of me.”

“Hey,” Seb placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t your fault.”

Kimi, who had been silent, finally spoke up. “Where is she?”

“Probably in the motorhome,” Charles answered as he joined them. “She’s avoiding everyone.”

Seb nodded. “Let’s go.”

---

Yn sat in the Red Bull motorhome, staring blankly at the coffee cup in her hands. The door creaked open, and she sighed, expecting another teammate coming to check on her.

“I’m fine, Max, really—” She froze when she saw who it was.

“Seb?” she whispered, blinking in disbelief.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted with a soft smile.

Before she could say anything, Kimi stepped in behind him, nodding in acknowledgment.

“What are you—how—” she stammered, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Charles called,” Seb explained, sitting down beside her. “He was worried about you. We all are.”

Yn bit her lip, trying to hold back the emotions she had been burying all week. “I’m fine,” she insisted weakly.

“Bullshit,” Kimi said bluntly, leaning against the wall with crossed arms.

Seb chuckled softly. “He’s not wrong.”

Yn let out a shaky breath. “It’s just… they won’t stop. I’ve tried ignoring it, but it’s everywhere. They keep saying I don’t belong here.”

Seb’s face softened. “You know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” she whispered. “Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m not cut out for this.”

“Yn,” Kimi’s voice cut through the room like ice. “You’re one of the best drivers here. The media are just… a bunch of idiots who don’t know shit.”

Seb nodded. “Exactly. They’re vultures. They need something to pick at, and right now, that’s you. But that doesn’t mean they’re right.”

“But what if—”

“No,” Seb interrupted gently. “No ‘what ifs.’ You belong here, Yn. You’ve worked just as hard as anyone else. Harder, even.”

Her voice trembled. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

Kimi sighed, walking over to sit across from her. “Listen, I’ve dealt with the media my whole career. They’re going to say what they want, no matter what you do. Don’t let them win.”

Seb squeezed her hand. “You have to trust yourself. We do. Lando does. Every driver here knows you deserve that seat.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “I just… I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Kimi’s eyes hardened. “Then we’ll make them stop.”

---

The press conference room was packed on Saturday morning. The usual questions about strategy and car performance were quickly overshadowed when Kimi was handed a microphone.

“Kimi, it’s surprising to see you here this weekend. Any particular reason?”

Kimi leaned forward, expression unreadable. “Yeah. Here for Yn.”

The room went silent. The reporter cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. There’s been a lot of discussion about her performance—”

“Discussion?” Kimi interrupted with a dry chuckle. “More like harassment.”

Another reporter chimed in, “Many believe that after last weekend’s collision, she—”

“Did her best,” Kimi shot back, eyes narrowing. “It was an accident. Happens to everyone.”

“But don’t you think—”

“No,” Kimi interrupted sharply. “I don’t think. I know. She’s a damn good driver. Better than half of you could ever dream of being.”

Seb, seated beside him, nodded in agreement. “You keep talking about her emotions, her being ‘too soft.’ Funny. She’s stronger than any of you. She’s here, facing all this crap, and still getting in that car every weekend.”

Kimi, never one to mince words, leaned closer to the microphone. “You’re all a bunch of cunts who can’t leave an innocent girl alone.”

The room gasped, whispers erupting across the room. But Kimi wasn’t finished.

“She didn’t do anything wrong. You did. So maybe, shut up and let her race.”

Seb, smirking, added, “Well said.”

---

Back at the Red Bull garage, Yn sat glued to the screen, tears streaming down her face. Charles, Lando, and Max sat beside her, all smiling softly.

“You see that?” Lando whispered. “They’ve got your back. We all do.”

Yn wiped her eyes, a small smile breaking through. “Yeah. I see that.”

Seb and Kimi returned shortly after, both looking smug.

“Feel better?” Seb asked.

Yn laughed through her tears. “A little. Kimi, you were a legend.”

“Counts,” Kimi corrected dryly.

Yn’s eyes widened. “You did not!”

Kimi shrugged. “They deserved it.”

Seb grinned. “Now, let’s get you back on track, yeah?”

Yn nodded, determination finally returning to her eyes. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

---

Race day arrived, and as Yn stepped into her car, the weight of the week’s pressure felt a little lighter. Because now, she knew—no matter what the media said, she wasn’t alone.

[snoopychris]

calm

in which... boxer!chris needs to calm down after a fight

warnings: mentions of fights, p in v, unprotected sex, cliche jokes, no use of y/n (cherry used instead)

“great fight as per usual chris.” his assistant speaks, clipboard in hand as her heels click against the floor. chris looks down at the small figure besides him, shrugging nonchalantly. “all in a days work, esme.” he points to a day on her very marked up calendar as they walk towards the buildings exit, tapping his finger over it a few times. “clear my schedule that day. it’s-”

“yes yes i know it’s a very important day for miss pie and you have to be there for her. it’s cleared.” she replies. there’s a moment of silence before she speaks again, her pen being tucked behind her ear. “a-and last on the docket is just… i was wondering if-” chris unlocks his car as he looks over at his assistant, pursing his lips into a thin line. he already knows what she’s gonna ask. of course he knows. what kind of boss would he be if he didn’t.

“yes, esmeralda you can have your birthday off.” the girl smiles as chris starts the car, waving her off with his hand. his drive home is quieter than usual, only filled by the song coming from his speakers. it’s a song you had suggested to him— Something, Somehow, Someday by Role Model— he sometimes felt like Tuckers voice calmed him down after a fight that he won. he’s not too sure why he remains so worked up after a fight, only keeping his cool to protect his image. his mind is telling him to just go straight home. that you’re busy right now. that he can just have an early night. that he’ll see you in the morning because the two of you had breakfast plans. his heart ignores him completely. 

by the time he pulls into the small parking lot of your bakery, it’s 8:02 pm. your bakery— The Wishing Whisk— was one of the towns hidden gems. it was a small, cozy place on a corner with plants growing around the large brown door. chris had a key if it was locked, but it wasn’t tonight. not yet anyway. he shuts the door gently behind him, locking it to ensure that the night would remain safe and uninterrupted, no matter where it went. your soft voice came from the kitchen, filled with the same sugar that your treats were made with. 

“oh my gosh! i’m so sorry but we’re actually closed for the night.” the voice gets louder as you walk towards the front of the shop, still distracted by the bowl and whisk you were holding. your face and apron were covered in flour and what chris assumes is cocoa powder. the small embroidery of the cartoon beagle cookies that had become your speciality completely gone due to the powered covering your form from basically head to toe. “i’m forgetful and sometimes don’t lock the door but i- oh. it’s just you!” you smile, pressing a peck to chris’ lips. he hums in joy as your lips meet his, lingering for more of your touch. “did you text me? i’m sorry… i’m slammed tonight. well… not really i just… have to make about… 5 dozen more cookies before i can go upstairs.” 

his gaze remains set on yours, the welcoming smell of all of your sweets filling his nose. “y’got some extra? maybe just some extra cookie dough or something?” chris asks, walking past your coffee bar area to the large kitchen. there were cookies scattered all over, one of your mixing stands was still going, and the oven had a timer set for whatever was in there. you giggle at your boyfriends actions, slapping his chest gently when he sits on the counter. “food safety regulations. get off!” you giggle, trying to move him. he wasn’t going to budge. he was a lot heavier than you were due to the nature of his career. he simply shakes his head, poking the tip of your nose with his thumb. “y’re covered in flour you know” you shrug as you begin mixing another batch of cookies in a separate bowl, handing the previous bowl to your boyfriend. “hold that”

chris complies without hesitation, his feet restlessly kicking against your counter. “can you give me attention for just five minutes?” he pouts, stirring slightly in his spot. you glance over at him when the oven timer beeps, taking the cookies out of the oven. this batch in particular was a red velvet sandwich, the filling for which was going in the mixer. you set them on the nearest cooling rack, popping in the next batch of cookies and setting the typical 13 minute timer.

“those are brown butter chocolate chip, i recognize those anywhere! i thought you said that you were only doing your specialty cookies with all the designs and patterns and stuff” the genuine curiosity in his voice makes you giggle, pressing a small kiss to his lips with your hands moving to sit on his knees. “yeah? y’listen to to me that much?” he hums as he pulls you in for another kiss, setting the bowl that was previously on his lap off to the side. his lips taste just slightly metallic— a hint of dried blood from his earlier fight still lingering. you pull away after a few moments of feverish kissing, looking around your insanely messy kitchen. “i don’t have time for this right now chris, i’m sorry.” he frowns when you pull away, watching as you look around the kitchen for your next steps. 

you stop the mixer that has your cream cheese frosting, placing it into a piping bag before you grab one of the chocolate-red cookies and piping a thin layer of cream cheese on it. “do you think that’s enough filling?” you whisper, spinning the edge of the cookie in the matching sprinkle topping. chris hums from behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulls you against him. “mhmmmm. looks great. now lemme give you some filling, ma please.” you groan at his words as you reach for another cookie, repeating your actions but halting when you feel chris’ hardening dick against your thigh. “fine but you’re doing all the work and i’m gonna keep… wo-orking.” by the time you’re done speaking, chris and his greedy fingers have found their way towards your sheer tights, ripping a hole in the middle for easy access.

“chris.” chris can’t tell if you’re scolding him for ripping your tights or begging him for more. he peppers kisses along your neck as a way to fill some time while he’s waiting for your answer. when you tilt your head for him to have more room to mark you up, he knows it was begging. his hand sneaks behind your neck to sit in front of your mouth, his way of asking you to spit on it. you comply as chris slips his shorts and underwear down to his ankles, rubbing himself a few times with the spit on his hand. “atta girl… been thinkin about you all day.” he whispers, slipping into you slowly. your eyes squeeze shut for a moment, placing another finished cookie on the plate next to you. there’s 3 cookies done when normally you would have eight done in the short time span. “that feel good, ma? y’doin so good workin on your little cookies… wish you could see what i’m seein. swallowing me whole… ‘s like you were made for me.” his thrusts are rough and shallow, being more for his pleasure then yours right now. “keep working on your cookies… i gotcha…” he whispers, your whimpers growing louder. 

in an attempts for more attention, you begin to push yourself back against chris, setting down your piping bag and pushing your cookies off to the side. chris’ grip on your waist tightens, pulling you against him harder. “chris… mph fuck please! please please…” you whine, burying your head into the crook of your elbow. chris grips onto your hair, pulling your face to look at him. “you’re doin so so good… y’probably taste sweeter than these cookies… y’try em? you try your sweets?” he asks, moving to grab onto one of your baked goods. he moves it towards your mouth, smirking when you hesitantly take a bite. “how’s that?” he whispers, his voice full of lust. “good… good it’s good.” “yeah? s’good? you rather eat your cookies or have me cum inside you? hmmm pretty girl?” 

“i-um… mph.. oh my god! c-cum inside me please oh my fucking god.” you whimper, letting your orgasm take over your body. as you begin to squirm and squeeze around chris, the cookie in your hands begins to fall apart with the sheer amount of force you’re squeezing with in order to stable yourself. chris groans at the sight, releasing the spurts of his cum deep inside you. it’s a feeling he could never get sick of. he stays nestled inside you for a minute or two, only pulling out when your oven timer beeps. your legs are too wobbly to move, so chris does your job for you. you giggle as he grabs an oven mit and sets the cookies on their cooling rack, practically drooling as he grabs a towel to clean you off. 

“those are for you.” you whisper, beginning to clean yourself off. you was your hands shortly afterwards, beginning to work on your cookies once more. chris’ eyes widen like a kid in a candy store, eying the chocolate chip cookies on the tray. “for me? you’re too good for me. how’d you know i was comin, cherry?” you smile as you grab another piping bag, preparing to work on a completely different batch of cookie decorating. “you always stop by after a fight. just thought i’d make you something if i was gonna be makin cookies. now wash your hands and get to cutting that dough that’s close to the fridge. snoopys and charlie browns.” chris chuckles, nodding as he begins cutting out the shapes into the brown cookie dough. his glances keep moving over to you, admiring the sight in front of him. when he sees you smile at him, doing what you love so much, and suddenly he’s calm.  

tags: @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbratt333 @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslu @bluessturniolo @courta13 @sturns-mermaid @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @emely9274 @princessesgarden @marrykisskilled @cykss @riasturns @jetaimevous @whore4mattsturniolo @camzeecorner @sturniolosymphony @ribbonlovergirl @surprisecurlyfriesbackup @lovergirl4gracieabrams @loverboysturn @muwapsturniolo @bernardsbendystraws @bambisturns

a/n: haiii guys i love u all so so much like truly also if it wasnt clear and cheesy enough... readers name in this au is basically.. cherry pie... also rose made the dividers! finding dividers for this was actually so hard.

[lynnieverse]

going going gone // rafe cameron

oneshot

ex!rafe cameron x reader

synopsis: you and rafe broke up a little over a month ago, and you're just now seeing him for the first time since...in a bar. once you talk, you realize you might have made a mistake.

1k words

From the first line you know it’s him. The deep, intoxicating voice you’d heard every car ride together filtered out of the bar’s speakers loudly. You whip your head around, immediately locking eyes with Rafe on stage. He’s in jeans and a t-shirt, but he looks good. Too good.

People are talking and laughing animatedly around you, but it all fades to the background as you hear what song he’s decided to sing.

“Like a runaway southbound train, like an Arizona desert rain, like lightning in the sky, like fireworks in July…”

Your heart drops at the realization, mouth parting slightly. His blue eyes penetrate yours with an intensity you almost can’t handle. You watch him pull the microphone from the stand and move around on stage, but he never stops looking at you.

You remember when he first played you this song, saying it was one of his favorites. You never understood why, but you could never hear it without crying.

You didn’t think going out to a karaoke bar with your girlfriends would end up like this. You haven’t seen him since the breakup, and you didn’t really want to. Things hadn’t ended the best, everything was left pretty open-ended.

“It’s like she was made for moving on, that girl is going going gone…”

Tears prick your eyes. Is that what he thought? You’re the first to admit you’re bad at relationships. You get scared easily. But putting the blame solely on you was just wrong. You felt him pulling away. You know you did. So why was this hitting so hard?

“Lovin’ her’s like roping in the wind…” he sang, voice cracking slightly.

You can see in his eyes he was trying to tell you something. You’re frozen, drink in hand, ignoring your friends' questions around you. This man…this man. He still has a hold on you. You’re entranced as he sings, words coming out of his mouth and stabbing you in the heart.

Rafe finishes his song, discreetly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, and quickly leaves the stage. You immediately panic, trying not to lose him in the crowd.

“I’ll be back, I have to–” you don’t finish your sentence to your friend––Kiara––not even glancing back.

“What? Y/N!” she calls after you as you start pushing your way through the crowd. You ignore her, her voice blending into the rest the farther you get. You absentmindedly drop your cup, sticky liquid splashing on your ankles.

When you finally reach the back of the bar, you spot him. He’s sitting on a barstool, whiskey in hand, head hanging low.

“Rafe,” you say softly as you approach, making him jump.

“Y/N…what’re you doing here?” He sounds exhausted, eyes rimmed with red, and he can barely look at you.

“I…I honestly don’t know. I just–I felt like I needed to talk to you after that.” Rafe sighed, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before downing it in one gulp.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N? You hurt me.”

You scrunch your eyebrows, crossing your arms over your chest. “I hurt you? Are you serious? You could hardly stand to be in the room with me towards the end. You were sneaking around, hiding your phone, and barely speaking to me! What was I supposed to think, Rafe? I couldn’t–” You run a hand through your hair.

“That’s what this about? Oh my God.” Rafe laughs in disbelief. Without warning he pushes the barstool out and stands up, gripping her arm gently and dragging her out of the bar.

“Hey! What’re you–Rafe!” You struggle against his hold, curious eyes watching you both but not bothering to help. As you’re pulled into the chilly night air, you wrench out of his grasp. “What is wrong with you?”

Rafe tugs on his hair in frustration. “Y/N. I was trying to surprise you for your birthday, but it killed me to lie to you! I wasn’t pulling away or cheating or whatever you thought!” Your mouth parts slightly, all the air leaving your lungs. The world stops as you stare at him. What?

“What’re you–what are you talking about?” That couldn’t be true…could it?

“I should’ve just told you–God I cannot believe that this was the problem!” Rafe throws his hands in the air.

“I thought you were tired of me!”

“So you just left? I thought you didn’t love me anymore! I thought you couldn’t handle me just like everyone else,” his voice broke. You immediately feel terrible. You had just packed your stuff and left a note…you didn’t even hear him out.

You are such an asshole.

“I’m so sorry, Rafe, I had no idea.” His eyes blazed. You’d never seen him look so angry. He slowly stalks towards you, only stopping when your chests are touching. The heat radiating off of him helps against the bit of the winter wind. You look up at him as a tear trails down your cheek. His hand reaches up, wiping your cheek, before moving slightly to caress the back of your head. His breath fans against your cheeks, eyes glassy as he stares down at you.

“Don’t ever leave me again. Not without talking to me first.” Then, his lips were on yours. Your body immediately reacted, shifting impossibly closer to him. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss, needing more.

After an eternity you break apart, breathless. Lipstick is smudged on the corner of Rafe’s upturned lips, and you wipe it away fondly. For the first time in weeks you could breathe again. You’d almost forgotten how much comfort he brought you.

He didn’t look mad anymore, but a deeper conversation was definitely needed. But for now, you were just content with having the love of your life back.

And this time, you aren’t going anywhere.

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Hey lovely :) can I request Agatha x fem! Reader? I love Agatha without inhibitions. Reader feels insecure for the appearance of her ex and Agatha notices it and assures/shows Reader that only Reader will always be her choice

Say it Like You Mean it !NSFW!

Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT, lots of praise, soft Agatha, oral (r receiving), delayed orgasm, alternate universe--non-magic, Nicky is alive, coven is alive (family friends rather than coven), lots of domesticity

A/N: I have to be up in like five hours, but this was already in the works for three days and i did NOT want to make that four. Anyway, this is the longest oneshot I've written at 4,109 words. Enjoy<3

Agatha has always been open with you about her ex still being in her life, and you never had any problem with it. She’s nice to you–during the handful of times you’ve spoken–and when she stops by, it’s usually to pick up or drop off Nicky.

Thanksgiving has always been your favorite holiday. As a kid you had the tradition of waking up early with your mother to cook dinner for your whole family. It was the highlight of your year and you had hoped you’d be able to share it with your child. 

Agatha’s son had instantly taken a liking to you after meeting. You were nervous at first. Sure, you had babysat, but that was years ago when you were a teenager saving up for your 1999 Toyota Corolla. 

You were sitting in Agatha’s living room that evening, waiting for her conversation with the babysitter to end. Nicky, who was five at the time, sat beside you, practically forcing his toy trucks into your hands. He pointed to each part, telling you about its function, and then, with the brightest eyes you’ve ever seen, asked, “Do you wanna see my dinosaurs?”

And how could you say no to that?

So he took your hand and dragged you across the foyer to his playroom. He dumped out a small bin of plastic dinosaurs and began listing the names of them and what kind they are.

“This is a stegosaurus,” he said, holding out to you. “They were plant eaters!” He picked up another one from the pile. “This is a diplodocus! It’s a sauropod–they’re also plant eaters. They’re my favorite!” 

Nicky rambled on for almost ten minutes about his dinosaurs, until the front door shut and Agatha poked her head in and smiled. “What are you two up to?”

Nicky hopped up, running over with a dinosaur in his hand to give to Agatha, “I’m showing her my dinosaurs! And then I’m gonna go upstairs to my room and I’m gonna show her my stuffed animals!”

“Okay,” she said, “but don’t forget it’s bath night.”

Nicky’s head fell back and he groaned, “But I don’t want to, Mama!”

“Well, that’s too bad,” Agatha sighed. She crossed her arms, swishing her lips from side to side like she was deep in thought. “I guess that ice cream I got you will go to waste then…”

“No! No! No, I’ll take a bath, Mama!” you could hear the panic in his voice and the idea of showing you his stuffed animal collection was now out the window. 

“Mhm…Go upstairs and pick out your jammies. I’ll be up soon.” Agatha smiled and shook her head as he ran out.

You could hear the little pitter patter of his feet on the stairs and when you began picking up the dinosaurs, she stopped you. “Oh, you don’t need to do that.We’re trying to get him to clean up his messes.”

The sun had just completely set when Nicky ran down the stairs with wet hair and fresh pajamas. He darted into the kitchen where Agatha had left you with a glass of wine, completely ignoring you and pulling the freezer door open.

“Can I have some now, Mama?” he whined as Agatha followed in.

“Yes,” she said and gave him a pointed look. “But only two scoops.”

The next sound was a small step stool scooting across the floor as Agatha got him a bowl down from a cabinet and handed him the ice cream scoop. He opened the ice cream quickly and pressed down hard with the spoon, just managing to get two decent sized scoops into his plastic bowl.

It was a quiet night, and after a movie Nicky chose had ended, he hugged you goodnight and went with Agatha to get ready for bed. 

Before she got back, you put on a movie that was more…romantic than Finding Nemo and when she did return, she had her own pajamas on and she had two spoons and a tub of ice cream with her.

“Oh, perfect!” You smiled as she sat down and kissed you softly. 

With the movie on in the background, the two of you sat on the couch. You faced each other, talking about your lives while taking bites of the ice cream in between your words. 

You were so close together, close enough that you could smell the floral undertones that her skincare routine had left behind. You could see the rings around her irises that were just a few shades darker than the blue inside. You could see the fine lines over her forehead and the smile lines around her lips. The crows feet at the corners of her eyes were your favorite.

After taking a bite of the chocolate ice cream, Agatha sighed and smiled at you. But it wasn’t just any smile. This smile was warm, it was filled with adoration, and it was filled with love. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

You looked at her, confused. “For what?”

“For…I don’t know,” she sighed. “I stopped bringing home dates because they’d usually text me a few days later and break things off. They haven’t been like…you.”

“Me?” you said, raising your eyebrows and smiling.

“Most of the time, whether or not I’d bring them home, they’d break it off after a few weeks,” she continued. “They didn’t want to be ‘responsible for a kid’ or they didn’t like that my ex-wife is still in the picture. I don’t blame them, but it still hurt.”

“Well they’re crazy and they don’t know what they’re talking about,” you scoffed, taking another bite of ice cream. “Because you’re amazing, and Nicky is a great kid. I know I only met him tonight, but I think I love him already.”

Agatha was quiet for a moment before she spoke again, her voice soft as she kept tears at bay. “I love you.”

That was the first time she had said it to you. Eight months later, on your one year anniversary, she asked you to move in and you immediately put your apartment up for lease. 

Two months after that, as you made him lunch, you asked Nicky if he’d want to help you cook Thanksgiving dinner. You received a very enthusiastic response and now, a week later, you’re waking up in your shared bed with Agatha.

The piercing sound of your alarm rings out from your phone. Your eyes, heavy with sleep, blink open and you stretch.

“It’s not even light out,” Agatha groans as you turn it off. She rolls over to face you, her voice muffled by her pillow. “Stay in bed, we don’t need to eat tonight.”

You swing your legs over the bed and yawn before standing up. You pull on a robe before rounding the bed, heading towards the bathroom and stopping to kiss Agatha on the cheek. “Go back to sleep. No one likes when you’re cranky.”

“I don’t get cranky!” Agatha calls back as you go into the bathroom to start your day.

Nicky is fast asleep when you enter his room. You creep over quietly and crouch down, softly stroking his hair and whispering his name. “It’s time to get up.”

He groans and stretches, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “What time is it?”

“It’s six,” you whisper. “But we’re cooking today, remember? Come on.”

While Nicky sits at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal, you begin to prep the materials needed. Stacks of bowls sit on the counter with whisks and sheet pans, casserole dishes and a baster. 

“What are we making?” Nicky asks, his mouth full of Lucky Charms–something Agatha had berated you for after you got them, because there’s “too much sugar and his teeth will rot”. But, as usual, she was placated with kisses and an agreement that it’ll only be for special occasions.

“Well,” you huff, taking the thawed turkey out of the fridge, “we’re gonna be making turkey and stuffing, and we’re also making mashed potatoes and gravy and cranberry sauce.” You flit from one side of the kitchen to the next, gathering dry ingredients and herbs. “And we’re also making sweet potato casserole and rolls, roasted brussel sprouts, green beans, and for you–mac and cheese.”

“What about the pies?”

“I made them yesterday,” you say. “They take a lot of time to make so I like to do it the day before.”

There’s a long silence as he drinks the milk from the bowl.

“Is Mom coming?” he finally asks, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

You think back to when he begged Agatha to let Rio come to Thanksgiving. She was hesitant about it, having no idea how it would go down with you now there, but you told her you have no problem with it–as long as Nicky is happy, you’re happy.

“She is!” you say brightly. “She texted Mama yesterday. She’ll be here around noon.”

With the turkey roaster preheating, Nicky stands beside you on a step stool, mixing the herb butter together as you stuff the turkey. The sun is beginning to rise and it coats the kitchen in a warm light as you help Nicky baste the turkey with the butter.

“It looks perfect!” you exclaim. “This is going to be the best turkey ever. Alright, go wash your hands, Chef Nicky.”

You put on a pot of coffee, knowing that Agatha would be up within the hour, and then begin to help Nicky with preparation for the gravy and cranberry sauce. The kitchen is filled with the aroma of orange zest when Agatha comes downstairs. She gives a sleepy good morning to both you and greets you with a kiss before getting herself a cup of coffee.

“It smells good,” she says, pushing the lever on the toaster and retrieving the butter and jam for her English muffin. 

“The gravy is done, it’s on the back burner,” you explain. “We’re making the cranberry sauce now, and the turkey’s roasting now. Nicky has been a very helpful chef.”

Agatha smiles and sips her coffee, “I’m glad! Rio said she’ll be here closer to one, Alice and Lilia both said one-thirty, Jen said one, and Sharon said noon–I still don’t understand why you invited her.”

You glance at her and sigh as you continue to mix the cranberries, “Because she’s a friend, Agatha. She’s very nice once you get to know her.”

“I’ve barely interacted with her,” she reasons. “The last time I spoke to her not over text was two weeks ago on that walk we took.”

You turn to her, “Oh, that was a nice walk.”

“It was,” Agatha agrees.

“The last day of warm weather,” you sigh. “But anyway, she’s coming. I know you don’t talk to her much, but she and I talk frequently. Sometimes I even go over to help her with her garden.”

At eleven, you and Nicky pause the kitchen revelries to get dressed. When you enter the kitchen again, in a simple knitted dress, Agatha looks up from her phone. She immediately sets it down and gives you that look—the look where eyes go dark and she bites the inside of her lip, the look that always precedes her bending you over the counter.

“Honey, I know you’re cooking a whole seven course meal…” she says, her eyes not meeting yours but instead looking you up and down as her finger traced along the bottom of her lip. “But, quite frankly, I think the only thing I want to eat tonight is you.”

“Oh, stop it, Aggie,” you scoff, walking past her. You jump slightly and gasp when her hand lightly slaps your ass. “Agatha Harkness! What is the matter with you?”

You try not to smile as she winks at you and grins. When Nicky comes down, his button-up is completely undone on account of his “fingers being too small” and Agatha happily assists him. A knock on the door interrupts your conversation and Nicky runs over, letting Sharon in.

She walks into the kitchen, a pie in hand, saying, “I know you said not to bring anything, but I never like to go somewhere empty handed, so I brought a pumpkin pie.”

You accept it gratefully and place it on the counter with the other pies you had baked the previous night. “Can you get you anything? We have wine and other liquors, coffee, water…”

“A glass of red would be wonderful,” she says. “Thank you. Is there anything I can help you with in the kitchen?”

“Actually, I haven’t had time to set out the hors d’oeuvres. If you’d like to, that’d be a big help.” You look past her and give Agatha a pointed look as she pauses taking a sip of her wine.

She looks at you defensively, but there’s an air of humor in her tone, “What? Oh, the hors d’oeuvres. Yeah, I’ll help her.”

You mouth a quick, Thank you, to her before turning back to your station in the kitchen and helping Nicky mash the potatoes. Agatha and Sharon share small talk–one of Agatha’s least favorite things–while they set up the charcuterie boards, and they finish just in time for the front door to open and let in the loud voices of Rio and Jen.

“I’m just saying, Jennifer, I don’t think your “uncharged” crystals are why you were almost hit by a car,” Rio huffs. “Maybe it’s because you were doing one of your daily vlogs and weren’t paying attention when the crosswalk signal said not to go!”

As Jen heads straight for a bottle of wine, Rio sighs and lifts her sunglasses to her hair, smiling brightly when Nicky runs into her arms. 

“We’re making the mashed potatoes and I helped make the gravy and the berry sauce. I also helped make the turkey and she’s making mac and cheese for me too,” he rambles.

Rio listens tentatively, “Well, I think this will be the most delicious dinner ever.”

Your head is down, cutting up the veggies for the stuffing, but you still catch Agatha out of the corner of your eye taking the biggest gulp of wine you’ve seen. When Nicky abandons his station in the kitchen to follow Rio to the living room, Agatha makes her way behind you. You feel her arms wrap around your waist as she kisses your shoulder and rests her chin on it. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

You sniffle and continue dicing the onion that’s on the cutting board, “You can wipe away some of these tears.”

She reaches up with her sleeve pulled over her thumb and drags it beneath your waterline. You lean your head back, smiling, and kiss her lightly, “Thank you.”

When Lilia and Alice show up, the gathering is in full swing. Agatha continues to take over Nicky’s role in the kitchen while he watches A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving with Rio, and the rest of the group sits around the kitchen island with wine and hors d’oeuvres. She helps with the brussel sprouts, marinating them in the balsamic vinegar mixture before moving to the sweet potatoes and beginning the casserole.

The sun has just set below the horizon and you’re basting the turkey one last time. A nice golden brown skin has formed over it, the smells of the herbs and the vegetables swirling together in a delicious aroma. Dishes are slowly brought out from the oven warmer and placed on the long dining room table. The rolls, freshly baked, are the last to be placed on the table, following the turkey.

Throughout dinner, conversations bounce from one topic to the next. From a particularly biting quarrel between Jen and Agatha about whether or not crystals could be infused into skincare, to Alice and Lilia discussing their travel plans for next summer, and Sharon and Rio having a polite discussion about gardening techniques and the best flowers for their yards.

And you sit in the midst of it. As you converse with your friends, every now and then Agatha would catch your eye. This time, she’s taking a sip of her wine when she throws you a wink, grinning when you get visibly flustered. 

The rest of the night is quiet. Around eight-thirty, after dessert, Nicky is passed out on the living room couch. While you stay in the kitchen, cleaning up, Agatha takes him to bed.

The rest of your guests are in the living room and you’re left alone with Rio, who helps you with the dishes while you pack up the leftovers. There’s silence–you can’t tell if it’s awkward, but it’s thick, and it’s heavy.

“Nicky really likes you,” Rio speaks up.

“Does he?” you ask, not turning your head.

Rio turns the sink off and dries her hands. She comes to stand beside you and helps you pack the rest of the leftovers. “Yeah. He talks about you a lot…I’m glad he has another person who cares about him. He gets picked on in school a lot.”

Part of your heart breaks at her words, “Oh…I didn’t know…”

“I don’t blame you,” Rio shrugs. “Agatha’s always been reserved…even if you have been together for a year.” She stops what she’s doing and turns toward you. “I guess I can see what she sees in you…you’re pretty–enough. Not really her type, but to each his own–Well, speak of the devil!”

Your conversation is interrupted by Agatha walking into the kitchen. She huffs as she starts a pot of decaf coffee, “That kid is knocked out.”

Rio smiles at you and puts the final lid on a tupperware container. “Well, I think I should get going. Thank you for having me, the food was delicious.”

The house is dead quiet. It’s almost ten and the rest of your friends have left for the night. When the door to your bedroom has finally shut and you’re in the bathroom getting ready for bed, you can finally breathe. Thanksgiving had gone as well as you planned, but Rio’s words still swirl around in your head.

You’re pretty–enough.

Those words coming from someone else usually wouldn’t affect you. But this was Rio. Charismatic, dark haired, the perfectly perfect Rio that Nicky dotes over. Rio, who is also your girlfriend’s ex-wife–the standard for all other partners to come. And how could you live up to her?

“You okay, hon?”

Agatha’s voice cuts through your thoughts as she places a kiss on your temple. “You’ve been brushing the right side of your mouth for like two minutes.”

“Yeah,” you say, spitting out your toothpaste. “I’m fine.”

Save for the street lights peeking through the curtains, your bedroom is almost pitch dark. Agatha holds you close, her left arm draped over your waist. You can feel her chest rising and falling against your back and her breath softly fanning the back of your neck. But as comfortable and safe as you feel in her arms, there’s only one thing on your mind.

“Agatha?” you mutter, earning a soft hum from her in response. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

Her arm leaves your waist and it’s quiet until the lamp on her side of the bed turns on. You turn over and she’s looking at you like you’re crazy. 

“What did you say?”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” you repeat.

Agatha leans over you and raises an eyebrow, “Well, considering that I told you I’d rather eat you than Thanksgiving dinner, I’d say so.”

You sigh and give her half-hearted smile. “Okay.”

Before you’re able to roll back over she stops you, “Why are you asking me this?”

“It doesn’t matter, Agatha,” you huff.

“No,” she says, her voice growing stern. “Why are you asking me this?”

You can see the genuine concern in her eyes and you cave. “Rio and I were talking…” 

She lets out an exasperated sigh, closing her eyes and letting her head hang. “She needs to stop doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“She doesn’t think anyone will ever be ‘good enough’ to ‘replace her’,” Agatha says. “I’ve told her a million times to stop.”

Your voice is quiet as she looks at you, her hand coming down to your waist and running up and down. “So…you…do you think I’m good enough–pretty enough for you?”

Her entire demeanor changes. She had seemed annoyed, but now her concern has an air of frustration–towards Rio, towards her words, wondering why she would ever make you feel this way.

Her voice is stern as she speaks. It’s a tone you’ve only ever heard her use with Nicky when he’s in trouble. “You are…more than enough for me. You are beautiful–inside and out. Not a single person I’ve been with can be compared to you–not even Rio. Especially Rio. Now say it. Tell me you’re beautiful.”

“Agatha…I–”

“Say it.” 

“Fine. I’m beautiful,” you sigh.

“That’s not good enough.” Agatha shifts and straddles your hips. “Say it again.”

“Agatha, what are you–?”

“Say it!” she says again. “Like you mean it!”

You roll your eyes before she leans down and kisses you. When she pulls away, her nose is brushing yours. “Tell me you’re beautiful.”

“I’m beautiful,” you huff.

“I guess I’ll have to do this the hard way,” she mutters. Before you can ask her what the hell she means, your question is answered. Her lips brush over your neck and up to your ear. “Tell me that you’re good enough,” she whispers.

Your breathing speeds up as her hands slide under your tank top. Goosebumps crawl across your skin and you find it hard to form any words that would satisfy Agatha. “I–um–Agatha, I’m–”

She pushes your tank top up and attaches her lips to your navel. Your eyes are closed as you arch into her and she grins against your skin. “Say it…” she mutters.

You take a deep breath when she pulls your pajama shorts down and then your underwear. “I’m…good enough.”

“Better,” she says softly and takes delight in the way you whimper at her touch. “Say it again and I’ll give you what you want.”

You groan, “I’m good enough.”

“Good girl.” Her tongue runs up your slit  and circles around your clit. “Say it again. You’re good enough for me.”

“You’re good enough for me,” you mock.

Agatha pinches the inside of your thigh hard and smiles, “Don’t be a smartass.”

You huff, “Fine…I’m good enough for you.”

You’re becoming less tense as she continues. You melt into her touch as she has you repeat these affirmations. You had never had someone do this–especially in this way. And she was so soft with you. It was almost like she was a whole different person.

Your head rolls from side to side, your hand grabs hers, and your back arches as you get closer and closer to finishing. When you speak, your breath comes out in short bursts, “Agatha, I–I need to cum–please, please, please.”

“Tell me you’re beautiful,” she says.

“Agatha, please!” you cry.” I can’t–oh my god!”

She pulls away and looks up at you with a stern gaze, “Tell me you’re beautiful and I’ll let you finish.”

“Fuck! Fine!” Your hand grasps the pillow beneath your head tightly. “I’m beautiful! I’m beautiful, Agatha! Please, please, let me cum, please!”

She holds your legs open as you shake under her. You had been fucked countless times by her in different places and in different ways, but somehow this was the best orgasm she had ever drawn from you.

When you go limp, Agatha slowly kisses her way back up your body, savoring every drop of this intimate moment. She reaches your face and kisses you softly. With her hand cupping your cheek, she looks in your eyes and her voice lowers, “Now, tell me that you deserve to be happy.”

“Ag–”

“Say it. You deserve to be happy, so say it.”

Your fingers are tracing up and down on her arm. You have to hold back tears and your voice breaks when you repeat the words back to her, “I…I deserve to be happy.” Your voice is quieter, “I deserve happiness.”

Agatha smiles and nods, “You do. You’re beautiful and you’re good enough. And I love you, and nobody will ever change that–especially Rio.” She pauses, looking over your face and kissing you softly before looking you in your eyes again. “And if you need me to, I will tell you every single day until it’s engraved in that pretty head of yours.”

And when your mouth opens to speak, your throat is tight and tears roll down your temples. But still, you manage to get out a quiet, “Thank you.”

[greengoblinswifey]

imagine having an affair with your stepfather hwang in-ho

warnings— stepcest, minors DNI.

Stepdad!In-ho was the last man you expected your mother to bring home, but from the moment you met him, there was something about him that made your pussy throb. Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered a little too long when he thought no one was looking, or the way his smooth voice dropped low whenever he spoke to you. It felt wrong, the pull you felt toward him, but you convinced yourself it was nothing. He was just attractive, that was all.

Stepdad!In-ho proposed to your mother suspiciously fast. Barely a few months after meeting, a diamond ring gleamed on her finger, and she was gushing about wedding plans. You tried to ignore the way he met your gaze as she showed off her ring, his lips curling into the faintest smirk. “Fast, isn’t it?” you had commented. “Why wait?” he replied smoothly, taking a sip of his drink. His gaze flickered to your tits briefly before returning to your mother, but you felt it.

Stepdad!In-ho had a presence that filled a room, making it impossible to ignore him. He was always composed, always in control, and somehow, that only made him more frustrating. More intriguing. More attractive. Every brush of his hand on your waist when passing by, every lingering glance, every low chuckle at something you said—it was as if he was playing a game only the two of you knew existed.

Stepdad!In-ho never crossed any lines—yet, but he didn’t have to. The tension was in the silences, in the way he stood a little too close, in the way your breath hitched when he looked at you like he saw something he shouldn’t. You knew it was wrong to think about him like that, but knowing didn’t stop the heat that pooled in your core whenever he was near.

Stepdad!In-ho was good at keeping secrets—you could tell. Maybe that was why you found yourself drawn to him. Because despite everything, you wanted to know what lay beneath the surface. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted you to find out.

Stepdad!In-ho had a habit of appearing at the right place at the right time, always watching. In the hallway late at night when you left your room for water, when you passed him in the living room, when your mother wasn’t paying attention. His gaze never wavered, never faltered. And yet, he never said a word about it. Neither did you.

Stepdad!In-ho wasn’t one for unnecessary conversation, but when he spoke, his voice carried weight. “Be careful,” he once murmured when you nearly bumped into him in the kitchen, steadying you with a firm hand on your waist before stepping back like nothing had happened. The touch was brief, insignificant. But it lingered in your mind longer than it should have.

Stepdad!In-ho made sure your mother never wanted for anything, lavish gifts, weekend trips with her friends, anything to keep her occupied. And that left you alone with him more often than you expected. The air between you was always filled with underlying sexual tension neither of you acknowledged. Until one evening, when your mother was away, and you finally cornered him, not expecting him to retaliate, not expecting the shift in his expression when you tested the boundaries you both had pretended didn’t exist.

Stepdad!In-ho smirked, his usual unreadable expression giving way to something else. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” His voice was deep, amused, but there was something dangerous beneath it. Something that made your pulse race. You didn’t answer. And for the first time, he didn’t hold back.

Stepdad!In-ho didn’t stop you. The moment your lips pressed against his, you thought he would push you away, tell you this was wrong, but he didn’t. Instead, his hands found your ass, squeezing and pulling you closer, his grip firm like he had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had. You could feel how hard his big cock was pressed up against you.

Stepdad!In-ho was always composed, always in control, but not now. His lips moved against yours with purpose, claiming, his hands roaming in a way that made your pussy throb. When he finally pulled away, his forehead resting against yours, his voice was lower than usual. “You know there’s no going back now, right?” You swallowed hard, nodding. You didn’t want to go back.

Stepdad!In-ho took every opportunity to fuck you after that. When your mother was home, his touches were fleeting, his fingers grazing yours as he handed you something, standing just a little too close when no one was looking, his lips brushing against your ear when he leaned in to say something low enough that only you could hear. But when she was away? He didn’t hold back.

Stepdad!In-ho was always in control, he never let you doubt where you stood with him. “I own you now,” he whispered against your skin one night, after he had emptied his cum inside you. “You’re mine.” And all you could do was whimper, his words sinking into you.

Stepdad!In-ho had only one rule—“Don’t tell your mother.” But he didn’t have to worry. You would never tell her. Not when you wanted his cock like the air you breathed. Not when it felt so wrong but so right at the same time.

Stepdad!In-ho fucked you on every surface of the house he bought for you and your mother. That included the bed he shared with her. You were his now, after all. By the time he’d be finished with you, you’d be a dumb, babbling mess. Trembling and fucked out. Your pleasure was his responsibility, and he loved to make you feel good as you moaned daddy in his ear. The nickname was innocent at first, even your mother was on board with it, but you and him both knew exactly what you meant by it.

Stepdad!In-ho took you anywhere, anytime. After a while, he stopped caring if your mother was in the house during one of your escapades. He’d simply put his hand over your mouth and tell you to “shut the fuck up and take my cock.” Being the good girl you were, you did exactly as you were told. She didn’t think twice about the amount of time you were spending together. In fact, she encouraged it, wanting her daughter and her new stepfather to get to know each other better.

Stepdad!In-ho’s best decision was marrying your mother. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have gotten such a tight, wet pussy to get every night. He wouldn’t have gotten a pretty young thing on his arm. He wouldn’t have had his good girl to do anything he wanted. You were everything he could ever want. His real life fantasy fulfilled.

[insidekatmind]

The other woman~Jude Bellingham

Wearning: +18,smut, angst,cheating.

Request: yes!

It all started as a game, a way to have fun without complications. Jude had been your friend for years, but for a few months, your friendship had taken a different turn. No promises, no strings attached. Just the pleasure of being together when you both felt like it.

Yet, things were no longer that simple.

You’re sitting on a black leather couch in an exclusive club in Madrid, a glass of wine between your fingers. The place is crowded, the music vibrating in the air, but your attention is fixed on them. Jude and Ashlyn.

She laughs, leaning on his arm, her sparkling eyes fixed only on him. Jude smiles at her, whispers something in her ear, and you feel an inexplicable pang in your stomach.

"You’re torturing yourself," Maya, your best friend, says, casting you an inquisitive look.

"I’m not doing anything," you reply, bringing the glass to your lips.

"Yeah, except staring at him like you’re about to rip him from her arms with just the force of your thoughts."

You grimace. "He’s free to be with whoever he wants."

Maya sighs. "And you? You’re free to be with whoever you want, but you’re not. Have you ever wondered why?"

You avoid her question and look away from Jude, but it’s too late. His eyes meet yours. His smile fades for a moment, as if he’s sensed your discomfort. Then Ashlyn pulls him back to her, and he turns, leaving you with a sense of emptiness.

Later, as you’re heading home, you feel your phone vibrate. It’s a message from Jude.

"Wait for me outside. I’m coming."

Your heart races, but you pretend not to care. It doesn’t take long for him to arrive in his black car, the window rolled down.

"Get in," he says, with that voice that makes you tremble inside.

You bite your lip, then obey. There’s a heavy silence in the car.

"What happened earlier?" you ask, crossing your arms.

He clenches his jaw. "You should tell me. You seemed... different."

You huff. "Why? Because you were looking at me while you were with her?"

Jude parks the car on the side of the road, then turns to you. "Because I can’t help but look at you."

Your breath catches in your throat. "Jude, you shouldn’t say these things."

He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Then tell me it doesn’t mean anything. Tell me we can keep doing what we’re doing without anyone getting hurt."

You feel a lump tighten in your throat. "I can’t say that."

His gaze softens. "I knew it."

Weeks pass, and every moment with him becomes more intense, harder to ignore. But he’s still with Ashlyn, and you’re stuck in limbo.

One evening, while you’re in his apartment, you confront him.

"Jude, tell me the truth. What do you want from me?"

He looks at you for a long moment, then moves closer, brushing your face with his fingers. "I want you. I’ve always wanted you. But I’m afraid of ruining everything."

You hold your breath. "And what about Ashlyn?"

He lowers his gaze. "It’s not right for her. I know. But I’m afraid to admit what I feel for you."

You pull away, shaking your head. "You have to choose, Jude. Because I don’t want to be the hidden option in the shadows anymore."

Silence. Then, finally, a whisper.

"I choose you."

And this time, when he kisses you, it’s no longer a game. It’s real.

You return the kiss passionately, straddling him. Jude moans into the kiss, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

"God, I've wanted you for so long..." he murmurs, his lips moving to your neck.

You feel a shiver down your spine as his tongue trails over your skin, his touch igniting a fire within you. You kiss him hungrily, your hands exploring his abs over his shirt.

"Jude..." you gasp, your body pressed against his, "I want you so much."He groans, pulling you even closer, his body pressed against yours.

"You have no idea how badly I want you," he murmurs, his voice hoarse with desire. "I've been trying to resist, but it's impossible when you're like this."

He kisses you again, his lips hot and demanding, his tongue teasing yours.With trembling hands, you begin to unbutton his shirt, wanting to feel his skin against yours. Jude helps you, eagerly discarding the fabric and revealing his toned chest. You run your fingers over his abs, relishing in the way his muscles flex beneath your touch.

His hands grip your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you even closer. He kisses your jawline, then your earlobe, his breath hot against your ear.

"I can't get enough of you," he whispers, his voice ragged with desire. "I've tried to deny it, but I can't anymore. I need you."You tangle your fingers in his hair as he kisses your collarbone, his lips leaving a trail of fire on your skin. You arch your back, pressing yourself against him, your body trembling with need.

"Jude, please," you gasp, "Take me."

You and Jude quickly undressed and then let him enter you while you held on to the car seat behind him. Jude groans and buries his head in the middle of your breast. “Always so tight,” he moaned.

You started riding him while moaning. "So big" you muttered and Jude squeezed your ass as he helped you ride him. "That's right, take it like this" Jude moaned. With every movement, waves of pleasure wash over you, making your body tingle all over. You look at him, seeing the desire in his eyes, how he bites his lip as he watches you ride him.

You look at him with pure desire and kiss him. His fingers dig into your hips, guiding your movements, as he kisses you back hungrily. He breaks the kiss and looks at you, his gaze full of intensity.

"You drive me crazy," he says, his voice low and rough. "No one else has ever made me feel like this."

“Mine” you moaned riding him while sucking his lip.

"All yours" he agrees, his hands gripping your waist tightly. "Only yours."

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin as you move against him.

"I don't want anyone else," he growls, his tone possessive. "You're mine."It's as if a fire is burning within you, each touch and movement bringing you closer to the edge. Your moans fill the car, blending with Jude's deep, guttural sounds.You move frantically, seeking release. You're so close, your body quivering with anticipation. "Don't stop" you pant, your forehead pressed against his.

He growls in response, his grip on you tightening. "I won't," he promises, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'm right here with you."Your breath hitches as you feel the heat building, your body on the brink of exploding. "That's it, let go" he coaxes, his voice a rough whisper. "Come for me."

And then it hits you, a wave of pleasure more intense than anything you've ever experienced washes over you, stars exploding behind your closed eyes. You cling to him more.Jude holds you close, his own release following close behind. His arms tighten around you, his face buried in your shoulder. For a moment, everything feels so real, so perfect. But as the echoes of pleasure fade, reality comes crashing back in.After catching your breath, you disentangle yourselves, pulling on clothes in silence. Jude looks out the window, avoiding your gaze. The silence is heavy, laden with unspoken words and uncertain feelings.

You break the silence first. "What now?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jude runs a hand through his hair, still not looking at you. "I don't know," he mutters."Is this just a fling for you?" you press on, needing to know where you stand.

He hesitates, his expression conflicted. "It's more than that," he admits. "But... I can't just leave Ashlyn."

A weight settles in your chest, the familiar ache of being someone's secret.“You said you chose me,” you whispered hurt.

Jude's shoulders sag, the guilt evident in his face. "I did choose you," he reiterates, his voice heavy with conflicting emotions. "But it's not as simple as just walking away from her. There's history, there's loyalty... and... I don't want to hurt her."You get up from him and get dressed quickly. "So you hurt me" you said and unlock the car. "I don't deserve this" you say getting out of the car.

Jude follows you, his face a mix of remorse and desperation. "Wait, please." He grabs your arm, holding you back. "You know I don't want to hurt you. It's just... complicated."

"No, I'm tired. You don't want to choose and I'm done being second choice," you muttered and walked away.

[cutiepotata]

She was burdened with the knowledge that all she knows and loves will die. She knows that SHE will destroy the world she loves so much, just to save some part of it. She knows she will be the very reason why all her friends and colleagues get splintered or turn insane. She knows she will be powerless to do anything but WATCH once she is done. She knows it will take an eternity until anything she'd done will pay off.

No. She doesn't know IF it will pay off. She hopes it will. We appeared before her, and told her "We are trying so hard to fix this somehow" and all she can do is go "please please PLEASE let them be able to fix this".

So she prepares. And maybe she hoped we were wrong and there will never be a day where an evil song begins to set the world on fire. Maybe Hermes' little bird had an accident and it was all a bad dream. But then the song comes. And the fire. And she sees the people panic and cry and it all goes exactly as she had heard it will. And she knows what she will do. What she must do. That it is the best the world can hope for. And, in her final walk, her speech has her set it all into context for herself. Where the mistakes had happened, where the arrogance had come from that lead to this.

"From now on man shall walk" she says, as she walks to her very own cruel destiny, where all she can and will do for many thousand years...is wait to see that one person one final time and hope that, in that moment, it will all have been worth something.

Venat is not evil. She's not necessarily good either. But she was dealt the shittiest card one could get, that said "everyone will die, and most of it will be your fault" and she didn't toss it in the wind. She took it, and she cried, and then she did the very things she was meant to. Because it isn't evil or good. But it is the right thing.

tried to write something about people disliking venat's character and failed miserably so i'll just say this: she's probably one of the best written character ive ever seen, her final choice is meant to be imperfect (and so are all the choices she made - or couldn't make - as hydaelyn) and there was actually no perfect solution to save the world. The people who says she's intrinsically evil or as controlling as someone like athena? Have missed the point imo. I think you can be mad at her in the sense a religious person can be mad at god for, idk, letting their child die. But to say shes a bad character or just, the source of all evil, well. Theres no unique source of pain in the universe and to believe otherwise is to follow the hermes or emet selch path. Venat is just an extremely tragic character for, the second the world is sundered, having to bear the responsability for all that is good and evil and neutral while becoming powerless and still trying to keep her strength of will

[acosmicbee]

Teddy Bear

(First time posting on Tumblr! This is a repost from my Wattpad, so hopefully, you enjoy it!

TW: Typical Yandere stuff, neglect from reader's bio parents, reader gets drugged with some sleep medicine, reader is a child)

You weren't the biggest fan of airports. They weren't the most child friendly, even to one so independent such as yourself. You, at the young age of 7, were already tasked with keeping track of your passport, boarding pass and any belongings. 

While you felt proud that you hadn't lost anything important (to date) you were also rather sad. It wasn't fair that you were tasked with all of that while your little sister got all the help and attention from your parents. Not to mention that when you were her age they'd already started getting stricter about rules and chores. 

The only good thing about airports, and traveling in general, was that you only ever traveled to see your grandma. You adored your grandma, and she adored you. While your parents would take your sister out to town to get souvenirs or see attractions, your grandma doted on you.

You didn't have to do chores at grandma's house. Instead she would let you sit at the kitchen counter and talk about anything you wanted. It was like she was trying to make up all of the attention your parents failed to give you. 

It was from your grandma that you received your most beloved possession, a handmade teddy bear. She'd made it for you, from scratch. Even though he wasn't as perfect as the toys your sister got from the stores, you loved that bear. The imperfection added to the love and safety it radiated.

That was the reason you had hid the bear in your carry-on luggage, despite promising your parents to leave it at home. You didn't feel as safe without it, and you hated flying. Not to mention, your grandma had promised to knit the bear a sweater the next time you visited. Therefore, you totally needed it, even if your parents said no. 

"Y/N. We're about to board. You'll be by yourself. Act appropriately." Your mother hissed. Your father never even spared you a glance, busy helping your sister with her bags. You patiently waited for your boarding group to be called.

You handed the gate agent your boarding pass, smiling up at him when he called you a big kid. From there it was a slow crawl getting to your seat. Thankfully, a helpful woman from the aisle behind your seat was nice enough to help you put your bag in the overhead rack.

You were seated next to a young couple, the woman trying to soothe her partner's fears. You tried to be good and ignore them, pulling your teddy out from your carry on, but you couldn't help it.

"I've flown so many times Stef. Look at me. I'm still here, yeah? Nothing is going to happen." The woman tried to joke. It was clear that 'Stef' wasn't soothed in the slightest as he nervously glanced around. You felt bad for him.

You remembered your first time you flew without your parents near you. It had felt really scary. You still hated flying, but you had gotten a little used to it. You debated with yourself for a minute before eventually turning to the couple.

"Excuse me?" They turned to look at you, the woman smiling.

"Yes, sweetheart?" Stef asked. He mustered up a nervous smile for you and you gingerly held out your teddy bear.

"You can hold onto Teddy if you're scared... he helps me when I feel like that." You offered. Stef gently took your bear, which made you feel a lot better about letting him borrow it. He was being so gentle with it, carefully inspecting it.

"Thank you so much. It's clearly a very special bear." He said, placing it on his lap. "I'm Stefan, and this is my fiancee." 

"I'm Emma. It's a pleasure to meet you sweetheart."

"I'm Y/N." You introduced yourself. The safety video started to play on all the screens and you took that as an opportunity to double check your carry on bag was out of the way under your seat and that your seat belt was pulled tight.

Soon enough, the plane slowly rolled away from the gate, slowly moving towards the runway. Despite having watched you check your seatbelt, Stefan leaned over to double check it for you before checking his own.  

Emma smiled lovingly at the both of you, gently taking Stefan's hand as she looked out the window. Stefan tucked your teddy into the crook of his arm before offering you his open hand. You took it, trying to push back a sudden rush of sadness. No one had ever held your hand during takeoff before.

As the safety video finished, there was another minute of tension as the plane finally pulled onto the runway. The plane accelerated, faster and faster, as it lifted into the air. You shut your eyes at the feeling, trying to breathe and not panic.

The plane soared over the airport and the city below. Stefan, who was holding onto you tighter than you were him, finally cracked open his eyes. Emma smiled at him, ruffling his curls before returning to looking out the window. 

"Thank you Y/N. Your teddy helped me a lot." Stefan said, finally releasing the bear. You hugged it as you lay back in your seat. Your happy mood was squashed by the memories of being alone. After all, it wasn't like after this flight you'd ever see Emma or Stefan again.

"I don't believe I ever asked you where your parents are, sweetheart. Are you all alone?" Emma asked. You shook your head, frowning deeper.

"Not alone. They're sitting somewhere else. With Poppy." You muttered.

"Poppy?"

"My little sister." You hugged your bear tighter, trying to distract yourself. You missed the look Emma and Stefan shared with each other. Stefan took a deep breath before reaching under his seat for his carry-on bag. 

From the bag he withdrew some snacks and some candy. He offered you some, giving you a gentle smile.

"You shared your bear, so it's only right that I share my snacks. Here." You gingerly took some of the candy, turning away so he couldn't try and take it back from you. It was something you had to do often around Poppy and your parents. If you had something and Poppy wanted it you were forced to give it to her.

Instead of questioning you further, Emma navigated the small TV in front of her. She decided on a show that drew your attention when you had finally turned back around. When she noticed you watching, she smiled, waving you closer.

Eventually, after a lot of coaxing and reassurance, you ended up in her lap. She wrapped her arms tightly around you, and your teddy bear, as you both watched. 

Eventually, Emma soothed you enough for you to doze off, falling into a gentle sleep. When that happened, Stefan reached into his carry-on for the small blanket Emma recommended he pack for the plane.

They carefully tucked it around you, making sure you were nice and warm. You looked adorable with your teddy wrapped up like a burrito. But now that you were asleep, they began to talk.

"They're adorable." Stefan whispered, brushing some stray hair out of your face.

"Mhm. The most perfect child..." Emma trailed off, holding you a bit tighter.

"It's sad. They deserve better..." Stefan said. He was replaying what you'd said about your family in his mind.

"They'll get it." Emma said with a smile, gazing down at your peacefully sleeping face. 

"How can you be so sure?" Stefan asked, adjusting the blanket.

"Because we'll give them better." Emma stated. Stefan had to do a double take.

"What?" He asked. "We can't take them! That's kidnapping!" He hissed quietly, glancing around to make sure no one else had heard that.

"Stef, you do remember who we're going to meet, right? My family. Trust me, we have many connections. We hold a lot of power. If I wanted to hypothetically adopt a child I saved from neglectful parents, I can in a snap of my fingers." Stefan nervously glanced between you and his fiancee.

He thought long and hard for a long time before sighing. He wanted to fight back and say it wasn't right, but more than that, he wanted to help you. At least with himself and Emma, you'd be in a nice and loving household. You'd never want for anything, and you'd have doting parents.

Maybe taking you would be for the best...

—⁺˖°ʚ����ɞ°⁺˖—

You woke up from your nap with a sleepy yawn. You still had a couple of hours before the plane would land. It was dark outside, and most of the lights in the plane had been turned off. Stefan was watching some show on the TV in front of his seat while Emma was scrolling on her phone.

It was quiet, minus the hum of the engines. It seemed almost everyone was sleeping or minding their own business. You yawned, snuggling further into the warm blanket. Emma noticed you were awake and smiled down at you, setting her phone aside.

"You must be hungry. Here, I couldn't finish the food I ordered." She whispered. She handed you the half eaten airplane food that had been abandoned on her tray along with a half finished can of Sprite.

While the food was lack luster the soda was entirely new. You'd never been allowed to have soda before. When you told Emma as such after your first sip she gave you a sad smile. You happily finished the soda before being tucked back in.

You let out a yawn, cuddling back into Emma's arms. It was so warm and you were still so sleepy. Besides, you had hours until the plane landed, it would be fine to sleep for a little longer.

You drifted off to sleep once again, content and warm. Emma took a quick selfie of the two of you together before peeking over at Stefan. He was also dozing off, something that made her smile. She had such an amazing family...

She was also very happy Stefan had decided to bring along his heavy-duty melatonin for the trip.

—⁺˖°ʚ🧸ɞ°⁺˖—

"We hope you enjoyed your flight!" Finally the plane had landed, just after 4 in the morning. Emma yawned as she stood up, cradling you in her arms. You were due to be out for a while longer. She passed you onto Stefan once he had a good position with his own bags.

She took your carry on from under your seat as well as your suitcase from the luggage rack. She only had her carry on, as both hers and Stefan's suitcases were checked. They both exited the plane, easily walking right past your old family. After all, your parents were looking for a child by themselves, not one being carried by their parents.

Emma led Stefan over to where a few people in suits waited by the gate.

"Stefan, these are some people my parents sent to escort us. They'll be expiditing our way out of here." She explained. As they were led away, two of the individuals stayed behind. They were the ones tasked with staying behind to deal with your old parents, either with bribes or with force.

It was after a fast tracked security process that the three of you were escorted to a fancy car with a waiting chauffeur. Emma took you back from Stefan as the car took off, weaving out of the airport pick-up area.

By the time the car arrived outside a large home, the sun was beginning to rise. An attendant opened the door for them, leading them to a medium sized bedroom upstairs. There was a small air mattress set up on the floor, but it was covered in expensive and soft blankets. 

"Your parents apologize for not being here to greet you and your fiancee... and child. They also send their condolences for being unable to procure a bed of adequate size for the child." The maid explained. "Their flight arrives around lunch time. Your siblings will also be flying in later today."

"It's alright Tracey. Tell mom and dad we're fine, okay?" Emma smiled. "I think we'll probably be sleeping for a while, so please keep it quiet."

"Of course, Miss Emma. Welcome home."

—⁺˖°ʚ🧸ɞ°⁺˖—

You woke up warm once again. At first, you thought you were still on the plane, cuddled close in Emma's arms. After all, you were still surrounded by soft blankets, and your teddy bear was held tight in your arms. 

But the only sound you could hear was the faint chirping of birds, not the hum of an airplane. Something was wrong here. You slowly uncurled from the blankets, trying to untangle yourself enough to sit up.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you looked around an expensive, unfamiliar bedroom. Where were you?

The room was spacious. The mattress you were on was tucked away in a corner, next to a larger bed. You were covered in the softest blankets you'd ever felt and your teddy was there too. A few stray rays of light streamed in through a crack in the curtains.

You stood up as quietly as possible, shaking off the remaining sleepiness. The mattress wobbled a little under your weight and you had to lean on the wall to steady yourself. Your mind felt a little foggy as you stumbled off the air mattress, taking your teddy with you.

You, somehow, managed to stumble out into the hallway without waking up Emma or Stefan, who were asleep in the bed. It was sunny, but the kind that happens in the late afternoon. The hallway was grand, lined with artwork and smaller pedestals of art.

Your sleep addled brain hadn't quite placed where you were yet or what happened, mostly due to the melatonin you had been drugged with. Your brain was working slow, and some signals were being processed too late. It was why you found yourself being picked up before you registered you weren't alone.

"Aren't you just the most adorable little one?" A man's voice said. The first thing your brain was able to process was that he looked similar to Emma. He had the same eyes but his hair was blond while hers was black. He gently carried you further down the hallway, smiling down at you.

"When Emma texted telling me she was adopting a kid, I didn't think you'd be this adorable. Then again, Emma has always had an amazing eye for sweet things." The man seemed content just talking to you, even if you weren't responding.

"Ah! But where are my manners? While I know you, you don't know me. I'm Alexi, Emma's father. You can just call me grandpa." He said with a smile. He stopped walking in front of an open door. The room inside was a fancy living room with a grand fireplace. He sat down on the couch, letting you rest on his lap. 

The drugs must not have worn off enough because soon enough you fell asleep again, holding your teddy close.

—⁺˖°ʚ🧸ɞ°⁺˖—

It was half an hour later when Emma burst into the living room, looking around frantically. Her hair was messy and her clothing was disheveled. When her eyes landed on you, peacefully dozing in her father's lap, her entire body relaxed.

"Good afternoon father." She said, her breathing starting to even out from it's anxiety induced pace. 

"I found this little one wandering the halls looking half asleep. The poor dear was out like a light within five minutes." Alexi said with a smirk. He didn't protest when Emma plucked you off his lap, holding you close. "Your siblings should be home a little before dinner, so try and have the little one up for that."

"I'm sure they'll be awake by then." Emma said, gently bouncing you in her arms. You let out a sleepy groan at the movement, waking up a little. You glanced around the room with squinted eyes before resting your head back against her shoulder.

"Your mother has stepped out, and she's probably buying some toys and outfits for them." He warned. 

"They'll be one of the most loved and spoiled kids on the planet, that's for sure." Emma said, adjusting your head with a smile. "But they'll deserve it after what they went through to get here."

—⁺˖°ʚ🧸ɞ°⁺˖—

That evening you met your new family for the first time. That evening marked the start of a new chapter of your life, one you tried to resist at first but felt too good to fight against. Everyone loves to be loved, right?

Who knew it would all start with a very very loved teddy bear?

[demonic0angel]

The brainrot is eating at me, pls feed me a piece of talia and Jazz coparenting damian🫶😔

(Ofc pookie 😌)

Damian began looking at his outfit in the mirror. At this moment, Timothy poked his head into his room without knocking. Before Damian could react and stab a knife between his eyes, he already began talking.

“Hey, Damian, can you— what are you doing?” Timothy’s gaze sharpened immediately. “Where are you going?”

Damian scowled. “Out of my room, Drake!”

“Not until you tell me where you’re going,” Timothy said with a frown. “You usually never dress up. What’s going on?”

Damian huffed and smoothed out his shirt before patting his hair down. His collar was still messy, but he did nothing about it. “I’m going out to see my moms.”

“…. Your what.”

Damian put his hands in his hips. “My moms? My mother and my mom? Are you deaf as well as in need of intelligence?”

Timothy groaned. “What do you mean by two moms?? I thought you only had one mom? Talia??”

Damian rolled his eyes. “No, I have two. Mother married Mom and I’ve received news that she finally arrived back in this world, so she is taking me out and she will also meet Father. Do you want to come see?”

Timothy stared at him. Then he said, “Fuck yes.”

Damian waited eagerly for his mom to arrive. Everyone in the household had now heard of their oncoming guest and were now congregating around the entrance, eyes trained on the door. Damian ignored them, even as Richard tried to ask him questions. Father was looking at him not very subtly, but Damian did not answer.

The doorbell rang and Alfred walked up to open the door as everyone immediately hushed up. The door opened and Stephanie gave a shocked, “Holy crap.”

Jazz stood in front of the door, tilting her head and scanning the room until she spotted Damian. “Damian!” She called, immediately breaking into a radiant smile.

She was as beautiful as Damian remembered. There seemed to be more age in her eyes, but she was still as lovely as the day that she left.

Damian immediately ran to her, jumping into her arms enthusiastically. “Mom!” He responded cheerfully and she beamed, kissing him on the head. He could almost physically feel the disbelief coming from his siblings and the shock from his father.

She put him on the ground again and fixed his collar, as she said, “Look at you! You’re so tall now! I’m so sorry that I missed so much, Dami. How have you been settling well in here? Has American school been difficult? I can give you my notes and I’d love to help you study if you’d like! I also heard that your father is here….?”

She looked up and tilted her head. “Wow, there are a lot of doppelgängers here…”

Damian reached up to hold her hand. “Mom, these are my siblings and Father and Alfred. This is Richard, Cassandra, Stephanie, and Timothy. Jason is hopefully dead in a ditch.”

Everyone looked at him with eyes of horror, but only Jazz tilted her head back and burst into laughter. Damian smiled proudly as Jazz reached down to pick him up again. Her hugs were just as he remembered, safe, comforting, and very high from the ground.

“… you’re dating Talia?” Bruce suddenly asked. The look on his face was very strange, almost sulky. Damian rolled his eyes again and clicked his tongue.

Jazz tilted her head. “Yes. I’ve been dating her for quite a while. I’m pleased to meet you, but I’m afraid we’re pressed for time. Tally is waiting in the car and I have plans to spend the whole day with Dami today.” She patted his hair and kissed him on the cheek. Damian immediately hid his face to hide from the coos from Stephanie and Richard. “I hope we can make introductions later. Thank you for taking care of my Dami, see you later!”

And with that, she quickly strode away without another word or any hesitation.

As Jazz bounded away on the cobblestone road away from the Manor, she remarked, “Wow, there were so many blue eyed people in the house, huh?”

Damian burst into laughter. After a while, he finally added, “I missed you, Mom. It was different without you…. And difficult too.”

Jazz cooed. “I’m so sorry, dearest. But don’t worry, it’ll be okay. I’m here now, alright? And I won’t leave you again, promise.”

[littlelamy]

hii, please feel free to not write this AND tell me to piss off at the same time if this is something you’re not comfortable with! right, so it would be rafe x insecure reader (about her appearance and weight), but insecure to the point where she struggles to eat, or even just sit down and read, in public places 😬 you can choose any situation that would finally trigger this, quite important, conversation between them (and pls make rafe tell the reader to go to actual therapy + him supporting her along the way with “you look pretty” kind of thing). Thank you if u decide to write it 🥹

lamy's notes: no im definitely comfortable with this topic—i hope you like it!

it happens at a restaurant.

just a casual dinner with the group, something easy, something fun, but the second you walk in, the air shifts. the low hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, the occasional burst of laughter—it all presses down on you, heavy, suffocating. your stomach churns, the mere thought of ordering something making your throat tighten.

so you don’t.

“not hungry,” you murmur when rafe glances at you, concern flickering in his blue eyes. you distract yourself by fidgeting with the edge of the menu, tracing the words with your finger just to have something to do.

he doesn’t push, but he doesn’t drop it either. you can feel his gaze, steady, studying you in that way he always does when he knows something’s off.

the food comes. everyone digs in. conversation flows. and you sit there, forcing a smile, ignoring the way your hands feel clammy, the way your chest tightens every time someone glances your way.

then, someone says it. not maliciously, not even directed at you, but enough.

“god, i shouldn’t even be eating this. i’ll have to spend an extra hour at the gym tomorrow.”

it hits like a slap. your skin prickles. suddenly, all you can hear is every awful thought that’s been swirling in your head for years.

rafe notices immediately. the way your fingers clench around the napkin, the way your breathing changes, the way your shoulders go rigid. his jaw tightens, something sharp flashing across his expression as he drops his fork, turning his full attention to you.

“come with me,” he says, voice low but firm. he doesn’t wait for a response, just takes your hand and leads you outside, away from the noise, the weight of it all.

“what’s going on?” he asks as soon as you’re alone, hands cupping your face, thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks.

“nothing,” you whisper, looking away.

“bullshit.” he tilts your chin up, making you meet his gaze. “talk to me, angel.”

it takes everything in you not to break right there, but the dam is already cracking. your voice wobbles when you finally speak. “i just… i can’t do this. i hate sitting there, feeling like every single person is looking at me, judging me. i hate thinking about food, about what it’s going to do to me, about how i look, about—” you inhale sharply, cutting yourself off before you spiral further.

rafe’s eyes darken, not with anger, but with something deeper, something that makes your chest ache. “baby,” he breathes, pulling you into his arms. he holds you tight, like he’s trying to shield you from every thought eating you alive.

“this isn’t okay,” he says after a moment, his voice softer now. “you know that, right?”

you squeeze your eyes shut. “i don’t know how to stop.”

he exhales, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “we’re gonna get you help, okay? real help. not just me telling you you’re beautiful—because you are, and i’ll keep telling you every damn day until you believe it—but someone who actually knows how to help with this.”

your throat tightens, but for the first time in a long time, it’s not just from fear.

“you’re not alone in this,” rafe murmurs, pulling back just enough to look at you, his hands still cradling your face. “but you have to let me in. let someone in.”

a shaky breath. a hesitant nod.

rafe smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. then, as if he just can’t help himself, his lips brush over yours, soft and slow, like he’s trying to kiss every bit of doubt away.

“we’ll figure it out, angel. together.”

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx @drewsephrry

[lily-jaxk]

MC Twin AU - CALEB'S Spitfire [4]

When you arrive at the airport, just as the text stated, Caleb was there.

He had his hat on, his very familiar (to you at least, but you suppose you had to act like this was new to you) Colonel's attire, and sleek black gloves on his hands. Ignoring the driver as he opened the door for you, you accepted your handbag and marched over to your purple eyed boyfriend.

You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to push him into an empty room and tear off his clothes.

But the only thing you could do as you finally got close to him, was place your bag down and slap him across the face.

His cheek grew red from the impact, but he barely made a sound. "Months." You start, gripping the front of his suit to drag him down to your level. "Months have gone by when I thought you were fucking dead. And suddenly you send me a text and I see you're alive!? What the absolute fuck Caleb!?"

Your grip tightens on his suit, and you glare up at him even as he cups your cheeks with his gloved hand, resting his forehead against yours. "I'm sorry." He says, and you glare even harder.

"I'm going to punch you."

"Go ahead. Punch me as much as you want spitfire." He rubs your cheek gently, a soft smile on his face. "I'm just glad you're ok and here, with me."

"Stop agreeing with me and being so sappy you bastard!" You snap, struggling in his hold as he drags you into a hug. "Ugh! Lemme go!"

He chuckled softly, placing a kiss on the top of your head. "You can yell at me all you want spitfire, but not here. As much as I want you to, I am still the Colonel, and many eyes are still watching me."

You huff again but relax, realizing he was right. This wasn't the time nor place to beat him up. "Whatever. There better be food on the plane."

"Only the best for you."

When you arrive at his place, you drop your bag on his couch and move to where you assumed his kitchen was, using your limited understanding of playing his Myths and Cards in the game to help guide you. "I'm still mad at you." you begin, watching as the cabinet opens and a glass flies into your hand. You turn around to see a bottle of orange juice open by itself, then tilt as the liquid poured into your cup. Stupid Caleb and his stupid Evol and his stupid understanding of what you wanted. How can you be mad at him when he does cute shit like this!?

"So." You turn around to face him, gulping down your drink so you can distract your mind. "Wanna explain how you're alive!?" You slam the cup down on the counter table, anger making your blood boil. You don't know why you were so angry, you knew he was alive. you knew he was fine. Still. . . . still . . . . what if you dating him made things worse? What if he actually got hurt!?

Tears suddenly dripped out of your eyes as you helplessly stared at him. "You . . . you died Caleb! You died and you left me behind! What is wrong with you!?"

"I had to act like I was semi-ok in front of MC! She was devastated! She lost her best friend, and I lost my boyfriend, yet here you are fucking alive!?"

You close your eyes as you try and wipe your tears away, not noticing him walking towards you until you feel his arms wrap around you. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, rubbing your back gently as you continued to cry. "I can't tell you why I left, because it's related to. . . . well a lot of things, but I want you to know, that each time I closed my eyes, each time I woke up, each time I went down to the Deepspace Tunnel, you were on my mind spitfire." He kisses your head, breathing in deeply. "I've missed you so much spitfire, and this time I promise nothing, and I mean nothing will drive us apart again."

"I will never let you go."

You sniffled and shoved your face deeper into his chest, choosing to remain silent in the meantime as you continued to sob. After a few minutes though, a small sigh escapes your lips. "If you pull a stunt like this again, I will kill you myself."

A fond chuckle leaves his lips, and he pushes you away gently so he can cup your cheeks. "Noted," he murmured, then pressed his lips against yours, your first kiss after months of being apart.

When you woke up the next day, it was to the smell of pancakes. Grumbling under your breath, you pick up your shirt and place it on, waddling over to the kitchen to see Caleb by the stove pouring more batter into the frying pan, a plate of perfectly cooked pancakes on the side. You pick up the fork and begin to dig in, humming at the taste. "Good to know that your dying didn't take away your skill of cooking."

"I practiced extra harder for you spitfire." Caleb leaned towards you to press a small kiss on your cheek. "Eat up, you're going to need all the energy you can get."

"Yeah yeah..." you mumble, shoving more food in your mouth. "Oh hey, where's my phone? It should have woken me up with my alarm."

Caleb turns back to the stove. "I'll get you a new one."

You pause your chewing, quickly swallowing it so you can talk clearly. "What do you mean by that?"

"I'm keeping your phone hostage."

"Why?"

He turns his head to give you a gentle smile, though his eyes have darkened. "You don't need that phone anymore, trust me, spitfire."

Ok, what the fuck?!

Taglist! - @sleepydang @junrui @animecrazy76 @reni502 @yjhcheri @sanstype @smoophie @young-adult-summer @l4venderia

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5