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ghouljams · 2 days

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Inspired by this post and @waves-against-a-cliff "Cbf!Johnny" comment. I present more of John Mactavish as the dog he is.

cw: dubcon(reader agrees but just covering my bases), f!reader, overstimulation

Living with Johnny was an easy decision. You've known him your whole life, and with his frequent deployments you usually have the flat to yourself. It's like living alone, except sometimes your best friend is around for "long term sleep overs" as he pitched them. He has his share of the bills on autopay and for the most part it's fun when he's around. You watch movies and throw popcorn at each other. You laugh at his stupid jokes in between complaining about your most recent attempt at dating.

"You know it wouldn't be so bad if any of them were halfway decent in bed," You tell Johnny absentmindedly. He's got his head in your lap, eyes focused on the TV screen as your fingers pet through his hair, barely paying attention.

"Hard getting practice in, not like you can ask a bird to play test dummy," He shrugs. You groan, leaning back against the couch. You guess that's fair, but it's not like you're asking for anything spectacular. An orgasm shouldn't be this hard to come by.

"The special service isn't training you to give head?" You tease.

"No that's just the navy." Johnny grins, finally turning his attention to you. His eyes dart over you, he's got that spark in his eyes that means he has a bad idea. "You know," He rolls the idea over his tongue, "I'm a little out of practice."

You push at his head with a laugh. Johnny sits up rather than be pushed off the couch and grabs your hips to drag you close. You shriek and feel his fingers pinching at your soft sides until you laugh.

"Good for both of us, yeah?" He asks, "I get to practice and you get off."

"You're not funny," You giggle out between fits of laughter. You twist in his grip to crawl away and he pulls you right back. His fingers tighten hard enough to bruise and you whine at the ache. "Ow, Johnny." You kick at him and he catches your ankle, flipping you onto your back.

"Lemme see your cunt." He says and the air rushes from your lungs. You stare up at him, his smile too wide. You've always found his toothy grin to be boyish, charming, but now it feels warning, predatory. You blink at him, feeling your cheeks starting to burn.

"Not funny," You tell him more firmly, turning to tug yourself out of his grip, your fingers twisting against the arm of the couch. You forget how strong military life has made him, too familiar with the scrawny kid you used to beat at footie. Johnny pulls you with a strength you've never felt, hauls you down the couch to lean over you. He's actually starting to scare you a little, the heat in his eyes is too close to burning and his teeth seem so dangerously promising.

"I'm not joking," His fingers drag from your hip, trail down to rest against the soft swell of your mons. He holds your legs open with the hand around your ankle and you struggle to take a breath. "Who else am I gonna practice on? You tell me what you like, yeah? And I'll show you what I can do with my tongue."

"Johnny I don't-"

"Ya were just sayin' you're in a dry spell," He reasons, his fingers rubbing teasingly between the waistband of your sleep shorts and just dipping too close to your clit, "can tell me exactly what you want as long as you want, know ple'ny of hens would love this opportunity."

Somehow that gets you. You wince at the mention of someone else, Johnny's never been one to date but he brings girls home sometimes. Or- no he usually goes to their place. Stays out late drinking with the boys and doesn't come home until late in the morning. You scrunch your brows together and he starts in on the begging.

"Please hen? Please," He pouts, dropping to rest his chin against your hip, "please? Please. Lemme do it. You gotta. Please. Ahm askin' nice an' everythin'. Please, please, please."

"Christ," you push at his face, just so you don't have to look at it anymore, "Fine, but just this once."

"Just this once tonight," Johnny agrees too quickly, already ripping your shorts down your legs.

You expected any sort of hesitation, but it feels like you've barely gotten your pants off before Johnny's pressed his mouth to your pussy. His tongue licks broad stripes, his head wiggles to try and push closer, lips kissing and sucking at your folds so eagerly it makes your head spin. You swallow, he's messy, unorganized, but the enthusiasm is there. Your fingers find his hair again and you swallow down your hesitation a second time. Johnny's your best friend, you can tell him anything, so you can tell him what you like.

"My clit," You start, tugging at his hair, "lick- lick it, um-" Johnny follows directions well, moving easily to flick his tongue against your clit. It's too gentle, maddeningly gentle, you can just barely feel it. "Harder," You suggest, "more pressure." Johnny presses his tongue harder against you, laves his tongue like a wave against your clit with firm pressure. You whine, feel him drag his mouth against you, his beard scratching your sensitive thighs. His tongue maintains its position, licking at your clit with varying degrees of intensity, testing the waters and listening to your soft panting whines.

You meet his baby blue eyes, his pupils blown wide, and he pulls back to let you see the way his tongue moves. Flat and pink, flicking against the sensitive bundle of nerves in teasing licks before he lowers down again. "You can s-suck too," You manage.

"Where hen?" He asks, lips closing around your clit and sucking hard. Your next words die on your tongue, your mind flooded with the sudden pleasure. His pulls back, and you try to come up with the words again, watching his thumbs spread your folds to further expose your clit to him. He sucks at it again, tongue working against it when his lips aren't pulling it. He only stops to work his tongue between your folds, dragging the tip around your hole to collect slick before pulling it towards your clit. "Gotta be specific or I won't know."

He's such a cheeky fucking bastard. He sucks at your folds, sucks at your thighs as his thumb rubs over your clit. Johnny's mouth is on your clit every time you open your mouth to give another direction. He works you up and then lets you drop back down, his lips kissing over your like he has all night.

"Fuck," You whine, hips following his mouth as he drags his tongue from your hole to your clit, "Johnny." He hums, lips around your clit, tongue fluttering against the sensitive bud. "Your tongue my-" He pulls off with a wet noise, and holds his tongue against your slit, waiting like a dog for your next order, "-my, uh-" fuck, having to ask for it out loud is embarrassing, and yet the heat on your cheeks has started to spread through your entire body, "-my hole. Please." You tack the politeness onto the end. You feel a little... guilty asking, but it's Johnny and he asked you to do this. (sort of)

"Look at you," Johnny coos, "such a good girl, so polite when ya want somethin'." You throw your arm over your eyes so you don't have to look at him. Your skin burns with embarrassment. You can't look at him right now.

"Shut up," You mumble. You feel his tongue prod at your clenching hole, the squirmy muscle wiggling it's way inside you to lap at your gummy walls. Johnny sucks your slick straight from the source and groans. The noises he makes, the wet slurping and sucking, make your blood run hot. His thumb rubs at your clit, his tongue stretching you out, the combination makes your cunt tingle with pleasure. Your whines sound more desperate than you'd hoped.

Johnny pulls back, dragging his tongue in broad strokes up your cunt. His licks are long and desperate, too eager to taste you, his eyes closed in bliss even as his ears twitch with your every moan. His mouth leaves you, and you pull your head up from where you'd been arching off the couch to see what he needs. Meeting his gaze is a mistake. As soon as your eyes touch his hand comes down hard on your clit. You yelp, as his fingers soothe over the sting. The sharp pain dissolves into heat, tingles over your skin like a rush of goosebumps. His fingers tap at your clit, and you whimper.

"You gotta keep talkin' hen," He presses, his fingers toying with your folds, "or I might start pullin' at the leash."

"You hit me," You whine. He pouts at you, imitating your own pout, and spanks you again. Your hips jump, your head dropping back against the couch. Two more sharp stinging spanks hit you and your stomach clenches. You can feel slick dripping off of your cunt and wetting the couch underneath you, which means Johnny can feel it too.

"Think you like it," Johnny grins, his fingers press into your cunt, two thick digits filling you without warning. You whine, clenching around the intrusion. "I thought you were helpin' me practice," His fingers twist in and out of you, and you grab for his wrist, "Where's my polite girl gone, hm?"

You squeeze his wrist, try to get him to stop fucking you with those delicious twisting jabs. It only makes him fuck his thick fingers into you faster. You gasp, your muscles tightening as he hits that delicious sweet spot you never seem able to find yourself. Moans drip from your lips, his fingers only slowing when Johnny lowers his mouth to suck at your clit again. You try to blink the stars from your eyes, your lashes fluttering until you can't keep your eyes open anymore. Your pleasure crashes into you with shaking legs, your pussy fluttering greedily around Johnny's fingers.

It's not good enough for him. His mouth leaves you, his breath heavy, and his fingers thrust into you hard. You writhe against the couch, your whines turning high and tight. The spring in your stomach coils and coils, holding you at an edge that doesn't seem to have an escape. The begging in your head falls out of your mouth.

"Please, please," You sob, your hips humping Johnny's fingers, "please Johnny, gonna come."

"Oh bonnie thing," He coos, his fingers picking up their pace, "you come as much as you want, my polite girl." His words split through you. Your back arches, your hips jump, the tightness turns into popping heat and wetness, and you come. Your slick squirting up his arm as he makes soft encouraging noises. Johnny's fingers never stop moving, your orgasm drawn up and released again and again until your hips hurt. Your insides ache, your cunt pushing at his fingers desperately for a break.

Your head is spinning, your vision blurry and your body heavy when you find enough energy to open your eyes. You glance down at Johnny, watch the way he rubs his cock against you. His tip is red and angry, drooling, the length is already coated in the slick it pulls from between your legs. You twitch when he nudges your clit, whimper at the sensitivity.

"Johnny?" He isn't looking at you, eyes glued on the mess between your legs, on the glaze of your come coating your pussy, dripping down your thighs. He wrenches his gaze from you only to shush you, leaning over your body to press his lips against your cheek.

"Just practice," He mumbles, "doesn't count, doesn't mean anythin', does it dummy?"

You feel his tip nudge against your entrance.

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helen-with-an-a · 3 days

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I am an adult part 5

Hiya, so this is the penultimate part of this series. It's a little angstier than what I had originally planned and I'm not entirely sure it'll get much better ahahaha. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it. And shout out to @lyak12 for helping me out with the plot a little ahahah

Barça Femeni x Reader ; Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6

Word Count: 5.3k

TW: A bit of bad mental health; R is a little shitty

It wasn’t until the Pokal Final that you actually got to see Lena again. It hadn’t really been a planned visit, but you had to get away. You had to see her, feel her again. You needed her to keep the darkness at bay. It was a random Monday morning when you received a phone call from your agent.

“Hey, pet, are you free to chat?” Paul said, his Geordie accent sounding slightly thicker than usual. “Yeh, yeh. I’ve just got home – what’s up?” You asked happily, not knowing the devastation that was about to come your way. “Um, look … there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just gonna come right out and say it …” he paused, clearly psyching himself up for whatever he was about to say. You sat up from where you were slouched over the kitchen counter. This sounded important. Really important. And that scared you. “You know Barça have been having …” He searched for the right word. “Financial issues,” he settled on, hoping to give you an indication of where this conversation might be going. You did know the financial issues the club was having – it had been plastered all over various social media. You had tried not to let it worry you, but there had been a little niggle in the back of your head. “I’m so sorry, pet. They aren’t offering an extension. I’ve just received the information; they cannot afford to keep you on next season. You’re being let go. Your last match as a Barcelona Femeni player will be the 16th of June.”

Your world broke. What did they mean they could not afford to keep you? Were you not worth it to them? Of course, you weren’t worth the money. You were just a kid in their eyes. Why would they keep you instead of Alexia? A lifelong player that bled Barcelona and had multiple Ballon d'Ors to her name. Or Lucy? A multiple-time Champion League winner in her own right, with numerous individual accolades too. You were expendable. You were lucky they had even taken you on all those years ago. How naïve had you become to allow yourself to get comfortable? Was it because of the issues with the government last year? You knew you had seriously fucked up then, but everything seemed to be behind you. Nothing more had been said about the incident.

You cleared your throat, a futile attempt to dislodge the heavy lump that had formed. “Right … um …” You managed to croak out, your voice sounding foreign and weak to your own ears. “Pet, I know this is not what you wanted to hear. And I’m so, so sorry.” “It’s fine.” It was very much not fine. But you were too numb to do anything, really. The thoughts swirling dangerously across your mind were not something you wanted to process right now. “No, it’s not.” Paul's replied solemnly, his voice heavy. “I’ve tried to negotiate; I’ve just come back from a meeting with them, actually. I had hoped to have some kind of agreement made but they aren’t budging.” He paused, the silence echoing the futility of his efforts. “But you’ve got offers,” he reassured you, his words a feeble attempt to lighten the heavy disappointment. “Name the continent and you’ve got an offer. Portland, Houston, Gotham, Kansas, Tigres, Bayern, Wolfsburg, Lyon, PSG, Melbourne, Sydney, Chelsea, Man City,-”

It was too much. Information overload.

“C-can we not do this right now? I … I just need a minute.” Your voice was thick with suppressed tears. “Absolutely, of course. How about I get all the offers and whatnot up and into a document for you and I’ll email it over to you. You read over it, and I’ll schedule a meeting for, let’s say, next Monday? We can talk it all through then, yeah?” “Yeah,” you agreed absently. You didn’t want to look over offers. You wanted to stay in Barcelona. You were happy here; you had friends, and people you considered family were here. But they didn’t want you. They were more than happy to throw you to the wind without a second doubt. The phone call ended and that was that. Barça didn’t want you. You weren’t worth it.

Conflicting emotions raging a war in your mind; pain, hurt, anger, sadness, defeat, fear, anxiety, dread, disappointment, helplessness, embarrassment, shame. The first hour after the phone call you had stayed by the counter, watching each message from all of your teammates and Lena buzz. You prayed one of them would be Paul, telling you that Barça had reconsidered, that they had miraculously found the money and would offer you an extension. He never did. You knew the adult thing would be to let yourself feel … something … anything. But you didn’t want to be an adult right now. Adult, you would be sad; look over the document Paul sent over and view this as an opportunity. Adult you would phone up Ona and Alexia and ask them to come round and help you through this. Adult you would call Lena. But you weren’t an adult right now. Right now, you were scared and ashamed, and angry and in so much pain. You didn’t want to do what adults should do. You didn’t know what you wanted … but you knew being an adult was not one of them.

Eventually, you moved to the couch. The couch that you had forced Ona, Patri and Pina to help you pick out. The couch that had witnessed so many memories – you had cried on this couch, you had laughed on this couch, you had fucked on this couch, you had loved on this couch. And now you had to find a new couch. You had to leave this couch behind. Slowly, the darkness crept in. With every passing hour a new part of your house was in shadow, another memory gone. The suncatcher in the window, the candles on the coffee table, the pictures on the wall … all disappearing in the blackness and soon to be forgotten. That is what would happen to you; you were sure of it. Alexia would move on and find a new Pequeña. Ona would move in with Lucy. Patri and Pina would have dinner-and-movie dates together without you. Marta, Sandra and Irene would go back to their own lives and stop worrying about you.

What were you going to tell Lena? Sorry, Liebe, your girlfriend’s unemployed. Sorry, Liebe, your long-distance girlfriend is potentially moving further away, and you’ll never play against her again. Barcelona had witnessed so much of your first steps to a tentative relationship. Barcelona had seen your first meetings, your first date, your butterflies, your excitement when you returned home, your confusion as unknown feelings of love swirled around in your chest.

Your phone buzzed. Speak of the devil. You didn’t want to speak to her right now. You knew that talking to her would make you cry. And you were trying really hard not to cry. But all you wanted to hear was her voice, her laughter, her reassurances. Your body moved before you had even noticed. “Hey, Schatz.” “H-,” you cleared your throat. “Hey, Liebe.” “Was ist los mit dir?” You could hear the panic in her voice, the shuffling of fabric as she sat up, attentive to what was happening. Your phone beeped again.

L 💚 is requesting a switch to video call

You clicked yes without thinking about it. Her face filled your screen; even in pixels, she looked beautiful. You, on the other hand, looked like a mess. Had you been crying? You didn’t think so, but you must have been, as another tear rolled silently down your cheek. Your eyes were red, your skin splotchy, and your face swollen and puffy. “Oh, Schatz,” Lena cooed. “What’s wrong?” Her soft voice was filled with earnest. You could feel her willing you to speak to her. You shook your head as the lump grew in your throat. “Schatz … bitte.” You made eye contact through the phone. “Barça … Barça aren’t offering a new contract. I have to leave at the end of the season.” Silence. A heartbeat of pure torture. Lena didn’t know what to say. She was angry for you – how could they not want you? Talent aside, you were the most incredible human in the world. Why would they not want you? But one look at you told her you didn’t need her anger; you needed her comfort. “Oh, Schatz,” she cooed. You shook your head, trying to fight back the overwhelming force of tears. “It’s ok to cry,” she reminded you. Her permission was all you needed. Hot, wet tears streamed down your face; the sobs hurt your chest. How? How could they do this? It took a while, filled with Lena’s comforting words and gentle reassurance, for you to calm down. When you were coherent enough to see the screen properly, you could tell Lena had been crying, too. Great, now you had made your girlfriend cry. “Ha-have you spoken to your agent?” She asked quietly, humming when you nodded. There was another pause, this time not as painful but still hard to get through. “Schatz, I want to come see you. Or you to see me. Please…” she pleaded. “No, Liebe, you’re busy. You’ve,” you sniffed, wiping your nosy unattractively on your sleeve. God, you’d be lucky if she still wanted to be with you after this. “You’ve got the Pokal final in like 3 days.” You so desperately wanted to see her, though. “Then you come to me,” she implored. “I’ve got matches, too,” you whimpered. The last thing you wanted to do was play for a club that didn’t want you. “Schatz, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but fuck them.” That made you laugh … well, not laugh per se, more like a weird huff or snort. But Lena could tell it was a gesture of humour nonetheless, she couldn’t help but respond with a similar smile. “I’m being honest. You’ve basically won the league; you can skip one game. You need a break and time to get your head around everything. Tell them it’s for mental health or whatever. Just … please, Schatz. I need to see you. I need to know you’re ok,” she said more seriously. “If you don’t come to Germany, I’m coming to you.”

You mulled it over, and Lena could tell you were thinking properly. You stared off out of the camera, your teeth sinking into your lip. You had your thinking face on. You really didn’t want to see anyone at Barça for the next few days. You needed to step back and have time to process, but you couldn’t do that with training and having to face the girls again. And it was true that you had already won the league; you didn’t need to play this particular match. And a break might do you some good. With the Copa de la Reina and Champion’s League finals coming up, seeing Lena again was something that would definitely help you relax a little. But you had the Copa de la Reina and Champion’s League finals coming up. You couldn’t miss valuable days of training. Barça were on for the quadruple. Should you do it? “The matches …” you finally said. “Mean nothing if it’s at the expense of your mental well-being,” Lena said emphatically. That was true. Winning the Copa de la Reina and Champion’s League would mean the world to you, only … you wouldn’t, couldn’t, be able to truly enjoy the experience. Not with this sword dangling over your head.

Less than 6 hours later, you found yourself on a plane. You had booked the first available flight out of Barcelona, hastily stuffing random hoodies and comfy joggers into a bag and snatching your passport. A curt text to Jona was all it took. You had made your decision, and a sense of relief washed over you. Lena would help you make sense of everything. You would take some time, give yourself a few days away from it all and then return with a plan. At least, that's what you told yourself.

Y/F/N Y/S/N: Hi. Unfortunately, I won’t be at training this week due to personal reasons. I would also appreciate if my name taken off the match list this weekend. Thanks Y/N.

Jonatan Giráldez: Hola, Y/N. I’m so sorry to hear that. Of course, take as much time as you need and yes, your name is off the squad list. If there is anything the club can do to help, please let me know. I hope you feel better soon, J.

If there’s anything the club can do to help? After they threw you away like you were nothing? After they brought you here as a child and then washed their hands of you? Not even having the decency to tell you with more than a month until your contract expired. Why would you go to the club? And surely Jonatan would know about your agent's conversations with the club? The staff always had a say in who was staying and who wasn’t; he must have known that the meeting was happening. That you were being told that you were no longer considered a valuable squad member – or at least one that warranted the cost to keep on … right?

One thing you hadn’t really considered, or maybe you had subconsciously but didn’t care, was the rest of the team. In their eyes, you had finished the recovery session on the Sunday as happy as Larry, and then you had dropped off the face of the earth. No one had heard from you, and then suddenly, at training, Jona said that you were taking some time off due to personal reasons. And no, he genuinely didn’t know what the personal reasons were. He even went so far as to show the Captains your text message. Short and to the point, no elaboration. Patri could feel the iciness through the words. Something was wrong.

Alexia’s phone call went straight to voicemail, as did Patri’s … Sandra’s, Irene’s, and Marta’s. They had Ona try, Pina, Cata, and Lucy. Every member of the team tried phoning you, and they all received the same response: straight to voicemail. So, you had turned your phone off. “Is she at her house?” Keira asked, watching as Ona pulled up your location. Ingrid stood off to the side, watching with worry as the girls descended into chaos over your unknown whereabouts. “Ok, everyone, enough,” she shouted, drawing all attention to her. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Ona, Ale and I will go to Y/N’s and check if she’s there. If she is, we'll stay and help her out with whatever she needs. If she isn’t, we’ll come back to mine, and we think of what to do next, ok? Everyone else, you are more than welcome to come to go home with María and wait, or you can do whatever you want. I don’t really care. We’ll keep you all updated on what’s happening, yeh?”

The plan was simple, really. Everyone knew what they had to do. The anxiety in the car was high, but calm and sensible Ingrid helped break the tension. “Her cars here,” Ona pointed out, nodding her head towards your designated space. “That’s good,” Ale smiled, squeezing Ona’s shoulder, but shared a look with Ingrid. They knew that that meant little in the grand scheme of things, you often ordered an Uber to take you places instead of driving. The hallway was unusually dark as they approached your apartment door. It was shut and locked, ruling out a break-in at least. Letting themselves in, it was starkly evident that you had left in a hurry – wherever you had gone. A blanket was carelessly left on the couch, a half-drunk cold cup of tea on the counter, your wardrobe door open and hangers on the bed. You were conspicuously absent. Ona was deeply unsettled; this was not like you at all. You never left without a word. Even if you were just going to the shops, you always texted her or sent her a silly selfie – it was a habit she cherished about you. Something was seriously, truly amiss.

Seeing Lena, the stone pressing on your chest felt lifted slightly. You walked straight into her arms as you hurried through the exit. Her soft skin, cinnamon smell, warm arms, and strong heartbeat soothed the storm. “Schatz,” she cooed, not mentioning the tears she felt dropping onto her shoulder. Come on, we’ll get a taxi back to my hotel, ja?” She ushered you towards the taxi rank. It was a little awkward for you both as she kept her arm tightly around you, silently thanking the heavens that you had brought only a carry-on backpack and not an actual suitcase.

After speaking to Tommy and signing a totally unnecessary NDA, you were allowed to sit in on the Wolfsburg training. You were reluctant to leave Lena; she wanted you as close as possible. It was obvious to everyone that you were not ok as you kept your eyes trailing to the floor and a firm grip on Lena. You were always seen with your arm around her waist, her hand in yours or your head resting on her shoulder. To those who didn’t know you, it would just look like long-distance lovers finally reunited; to everyone else, though, you were clearly going through something. Jule hadn’t even said anything before pulling you into a hug, squeezing nice and tightly before passing you to Sveindís. She had just pressed a kiss to your forehead before continuing the conversation as if it was normal for you to be there. Alex and Svenja had pulled you aside as you walked into breakfast the first morning you were there. When they heard from Lena that you were watching the final, they thought it would be perfect timing for the talk. They prepared a speech and everything, promising painful retribution if you stepped a foot out of line. An hour watching you and Lena interact silently, automatically knowing what the other needed without ever speaking, made them throw their plan straight out the window.

“Hey, Y/N. Can we talk for a minute?” Alex asked, putting a gentle hand on your elbow. You looked up wildly at Lena, relaxing slightly as she smiled and kissed your cheek, moving away to give you privacy. “Whose behinds do we need to kick?” Svenja jumped straight to it. “Huh?” You furrowed your brows in confusion. “We’ve seen the way you interact on the pitch. We’ve been in the room when you call Lena. You clearly are not yourself, so I’ll ask again. Whose needs a good kick up the bum?” It was something about the pair of them. You knew they were the motherly figures of the team, especially for Lena. She always sang their praises whenever she had the chance. You took a deep breath. “The whole of Barça?” You don’t know why you said it as a question. “Barça as in the city of Barcelona? Or just the team?” Alex quizzed “Um … well, they aren’t renewing my contract in the summer. They said they can’t afford it. But the first time either me or my agent heard about it was when they formally told us. I guess it just … knocked me a little.” You confessed. It was the first time you had explained what had happened since you first told Lena. Your heart clenched as you said the words, every syllable making it more and more real. “Oh, mausi. It’s ok.” Alex pulled you into a hug, gently squeezing you. “Take as much time as you need, ja? And talk to Obi, lean on her, let her be there for you.” Svenja added, rubbing your back comfortingly. You nodded, smiling gratefully at the two women.

You tried to keep a low profile, you successfully stayed out of the camera as you sat in the stands during Wolfsburg’s practices. You had spent most of the training looking over the documents your manager had sent over. A lot of the offers seemed really good. A very nice salary from most of them, some offered flats and houses, others offered cars and expenses. But there was one that stood out for you. It was no different than any of the other offers. But it lingered in your mind; it danced across your thoughts as you tried to fall asleep in Lena’s arms; it flicked as you ate breakfast; it appeared randomly as you waited for Lena to return from the showers. Should you? Logically, you knew you had to go somewhere. And you would have to move out of Barcelona and probably out of Spain too. There was one thing that this offer had that the others didn’t. Well, not a thing, but a person.

Inevitably, for all your efforts to hide yourself away, you were caught at the match. You had a black hoodie of Lena’s on and sunglasses, hoping it was enough to keep you from being recognised, but the fans were too good. You were picked up by hundreds of phones, all snapping photos of you. You knew it was kind of stupid to go to Lena’s match after withdrawing from your own, but you wanted to watch a football that didn’t impact you in any way beyond that of a fan. You were desperate to watch the game you loved as a fan again, to rediscover your love for the sport you dedicated your whole life to.

Ona was absolutely beside herself with worry. She was convinced you were dead. Or seriously injured, at the very least. “Si us plau, si us plau, Lucia. Por favor. Please,” she begged Lucy. For what, Lucy was unsure. “I don’t know what to do.” “I know, my love. I know.” Lucy ran her hands through Ona’s loose hair, twisting the strands around her fingers in a way she knew should bring her comfort. “What if she’s dead? I can’t lose her, not like this. Not without saying goodbye,” Ona sobbed. “She’s not, I promise you. She isn’t dead.” Despite her attempts, she didn’t know that. Not definitely. You could be lying in a ditch somewhere or in a hospital bed, unable to wake up and tell someone your name. Of course, she was worried for you, but she was more concerned for Ona. She was inconsolable. You had disappeared from her life without a trace.

Next to Lucy, her phone buzzed. She was going to ignore it; her girlfriend needed her more than whoever was messaging her. But when Ona’s tinged and then both started to ring, she sat up slightly. “Sí?” “She’s alive.” Ingrid breathed, sighing out in relief. That made Lucy sit up. “Hold on, let me put you on speaker, I’m with Oni.” “She’s alive. She’s in Germany. It’s on Instagram and Twitter. She’s at the Pokal final.” Mapí said, her tone a mix of relief and anger. “Què?” Ona sniffled, sitting up and leaning into Lucy more. “Some accounts have photos of her, it's all over social media. Ingrid’s trying to reach anyone from Wolfsburg. So’s Frido.” Mapí explained. “Lena,” Ona said, realisation dawning on her. If you were at a game in Germany, you would be watching Lena play.

Rumour: Y/F/N Y/S/N to transfer to Wolfsburg or Bayern Munich.

After being spotted at the DFB-Pokal Frauen 2024 Final, F.C. Barcelona midfielder Y/F/N Y/S/N is rumoured to make the intercontinental move next season. To which club is yet to be confirmed, but all signs point to the young player leaving Barcelona in the summer. With her presence at the Pokal Final, can we assume that she will be going to either Wolfsburg or Bayern?

Keep reading to find out more …..

Ona stared at her phone in shock. There was no way, no way in hell you were leaving Barça, especially not without telling her. You were happy here; you loved it here. Why would you go? You had friends here; you had your best friend here; you had your family here. She couldn’t help the tears that welled in her eyes. You weren’t leaving her, were you? It would explain why you were MIA for the past three days. Whilst she was at home, worried sick that you were lying dead in a ditch or in some ICU in a coma, your name unknown, you were off in Germany, living life and meeting your new teammates. And you had abandoned training and asked to be taken off the match squad. This couldn’t be the personal reasons you had mentioned in your text. There had to be more to it. There had to be a simple explanation. And yet, none was forthcoming. You had hopped on a plane and flew to Germany. No message, no phone call, no email. Just upped and left the country. So you could meet with your new team.

How could you do this to Ona? After all that you two had been through, after all that you had shared with each other. You were the first person she told about Lucy. You were the first person outside the Spanish national players she confessed to about what truly happened behind closed doors. You were there for her in ways no one else was or could be. And yet, you were leaving her without saying goodbye.

Leaving Lena was hard; you didn't really want to go back to Barcelona and face what was awaiting you. When you finally switched your phone back on, you were met with thousands of messages and missed calls. They started off concerned, then really worried and then they turned angry. You couldn't fault them; your behaviour was shitty. You would be just as angry if one of them had done that to you. But you needed a few days without anyone related to Barcelona. You needed the distance to clear your head and gather a game plan to present to your agent when you next spoke. You didn't even know about the article that was making its way around the internet. You weren't too big on social media unless it was to make your monthly Instagram posts. You followed the necessary people and uploaded the right things, but you didn't scroll for hours. You had been there before, been down that path and knew that only badness lay ahead. You had read the comments, seen the nastiness, heard the bitterness. So, you stayed clear, away from the world of social media trolls and online negativity. You didn't know of the absolute hell that was awaiting you.

Maybe going straight from the airport to training was a bad idea. Perhaps you should have taken the time to phone someone and let them know you were returning. Possibly, you should have spoken to Alexia and Ona first so you could explain yourself properly. Potentially you should have checked social media. But you didn’t. You didn’t do any of that.

You arrived at the training ground with your headphones in and hood up. You hurried passed reception, ignoring the glares from the receptionist and physios. You had hoped to catch Ona or Alexia before training, to pull them aside and explain everything to them (hopefully without crying).

“So, you’re transferring then?” Lucy called, her face stern and eyes blazing in anger. You hummed, confused and slightly shocked at her tone, but opted to walk straight to your cubby. “Oh, no, you don’t. Turn around.” Your headphones were still blasting music, so you never heard her. Lucy grabbed your shoulder roughly, swinging you back around to face. “What the fuck,” you flinched, pulling your headphones out and taking a step back. “You don’t get to do this. Not after I watched Ona cry herself to sleep ‘cos you were missing.” You felt your heart sink. Had she really done that? “I-” You felt guilty. You really, really felt horrible about what you had done to your … friends … ex-friends … teammates … ex-teammates. Ona especially. She was your best friend, and to see her puffy eyes and solemn expression from across the room made you feel even worse. And it bubbled up into anger. Mainly at yourself, but you couldn’t help but explode when Lucy started shouting. “Got nothing to say, have you?” She took a step closer. “We’re not good enough for you, now? You’ve found yourself a little girlfriend, and suddenly, your friends aren’t enough.” You squared up to her. “Leave Lena out of this,” you said menacingly, matching her energy. If she wanted a fight, she'd get one. “Please, you’re a fucking joke. You don’t get to waltz back in here like nothing happened. You were missing for 4 days. Not a single text to us to tell us what was going on.” “I don’t have to tell you everything.” She was right, though, and you knew it. A simple message to someone, anyone, to let them know would have solved a lot of issues. “What about Ona? Is she no longer your best friend? Or Ale, the woman who took you in when you first arrived?” She pressed. You were basically nose-to-nose at this point. “Why did you even bother coming back?” You recoiled as if she had just slapped you. It stung like she had. Why had you bothered coming back? Barça didn’t want you. And now the team didn’t want you either. “Fuck you, Bronze.” Your voice cracked slightly, your jaw clenched, and your mouth set in a harsh line. You were trying really hard not to cry. “Are you trying to burn all your bridges before you abandon us? If you are, it’s working.” She looked you up and down, the disdain in her eyes obvious. “You don’t deserve to be here anymore, let alone have us as friends.” You knew Lucy got angry when she was hurt, but hearing those words confirmed everything you already thought about yourself and this situation. Lena had spent days trying to glue your fragile mind back together, and with a single sentence, you had shattered into a thousand pieces again.

You hadn’t noticed the crowd gathering around you, the semi-circle blocking your exit and forcing you to keep up your façade. To most of the others, Lucy just echoed their hurt feelings, saying precisely what they were thinking. But Alexia and Ona could see the pain swirling behind your eyes before Lucy started the argument. The pair of them could also see your heartbreak as the words echoed around the silent changing rooms despite the mask you had on. You took a moment to gather yourself. Taking a breath, you said lowly. “You know what? If this is how you treat everyone that’s leaving, I’m glad Barça aren’t renewing my contract. I don’t want to be on a pitch with someone that thinks so little of me.”

I hope you enjoyed <3<3<3<3<3

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moonstruckme · 3 days

Note

james x shy!reader first time?🤭🤭🤭🤭

Thanks for requesting!

cw: smut mndi

James Potter x shy!reader ♡ 908 words

James almost feels bad about the mark he’s surely leaving on your tit, but your hands are encouraging on his back and he’s yet to learn how to deny you anything you want.

He can feel your heartbeat in his mouth as he sucks and teases your skin. It speeds up when he lets his teeth scrape lightly. Your breathing falters.

James can’t help himself; he grins. “That’s it,” he coaxes. “Don’t be shy, angel, let me know what’s good, yeah?”

Your reply comes soft and surprisingly teasing. “I think you already know.”

A little laugh startles out of him, and he looks up in time to see your small smile. That smile is going to get James in trouble.

“How’re you feeling, baby?” He runs his palms up and down your sides comfortingly. Your top half is bare, your shirt balled up and tossed into the hamper, but you’re still in your pants. “Are you ready?”

You rub your lips together, showing your nerves. “Yeah.” You nod. James kisses you softly to try and settle you. “I’m ready.”

“Okay. I’m gonna take care of you, okay?” You nod again, looking a bit more sure this time. He smiles at you. “Can I take these off?”

You hum. “Please,” you say, lifting your head and reaching for the button of your pants.

James bats your hands away, nipping playfully at the underside of your jaw as he undoes them himself and then easing them down over the curve of your hips. You sit up on your elbows to watch him. Underneath, you’ve got on a pair of underwear that’s prettier than anything James has ever seen (present company excluded). He can’t take his eyes off them as he tugs your pants the rest of the way off.

“Sweetheart.” James is delighted. “Did you wear these for me?”

You look like you’re contemplating smothering yourself with your pillow. “Yeah,” you murmur, not looking at him.

He plants a heavy, smacking kiss on your cheek. It’s burning hot under his lips. “You’re fucking adorable,” he says, running a finger over the waistband. “I almost don’t want to take them off.”

“Please do,” you say in a hurry.

Something frightening close to a giggle bubbles up in James’ chest. He’s continually surprised by your bouts of boldness.

“Whatever you say, angel.” He gets his fingers under the pretty fabric, and they join the rest of your clothes in the hamper.

It’s not the first time you’ve been exposed to him like this, but you never seem to get used to it. James can hardly blame you; he hasn’t either. He stares openly while you cover your face with your arms, taking one of your thighs in each hand and easing them open.

“My shy girl, all ready for me,” he coos, dragging two fingers through your slickened folds. “Fuck, I wish you could see yourself, baby, you look so pretty. Probably won’t take long at all to get you ready for me, huh?”

He looks up, but you’re still hiding under your arms.

When no response comes, he hums, “Or, maybe I could take my time—”

“Jamie.” Your voice is quiet and frail, directed towards the ceiling like a prayer. “Please.”

“Okay.” He laughs, hands moving back up you until they’re clasped around your wrists. “Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t play with you too much, just don’t hide from me, please?”

James gives only the slightest tug, but you move your arms of your own volition, peering up at him warily.

“Good girl, thank you.” He rewards you with a kiss, his hand sneaking back down between your legs.

Your lips part in a silent gasp as his thick fingers broach your entrance, and James slips his tongue into your mouth, cock aching at the tightness of you. His other hand finds your tit. Your gummy walls constrict on his digits, and he swallows a groan.

“Fuck, angel.” He slips in a third finger, the fit easy when you’re already so worked up. “S’like you’re sucking me in.”

Your head falls back against the pillows, but James doesn’t hold your lack of reply against you. He finger fucks you deep and slow, curling his digits every now and again in search of that sensitive spot on your front wall. Your cunt is weeping now, wetness slipping out of you and pooling on the sheets.

When James sets his lips to your clit, you make the sort of breathy, desperate sound he knows will echo in his dreams for the next week.

One of your hands burrows in his hair. He spurs you on by bullying the small bead, licking and sucking until he can feel that telltale trembling of your thighs. He lifts his head, and you look relieved.

“I’m ready,” you say through soft pants, braver now that James has wound you up so tightly. “I think I can take—”

You cut yourself off as he spreads his fingers inside you, testing the fit and hoping to numb you out in the process.

“Sorry, angel,” he says. “That feel okay?”

“Yes.” You nod, urgent. “Yeah, Jamie, can you—can you please—”

James placates you with a soft kiss to your jaw, soothing his slick-soaked hand over your hip as he undoes his pants with the other.

“Someday,” he promises, “we’re gonna find out what happens when you don’t get your way. But for now I’ll give you whatever you want, sweetheart.”

457 notes · View notes

jflemings · 3 days

Text

— line drawn

pairing: jessie fleming x reader

synopsis: your teenage daughter is in love for the first time but her boyfriend is a bad influence on her. when the two of you get into an argument and she says something especially hurtful, jessie snaps

warnings: a lil angst, arguing, past toxic relationship, past abusive relationship, language, talks of past and present drug use

a/n: pls pay attention to the warnings, this was heavier than i originally planned

୧ ‧₊˚ 🪻 ⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

“he’s a good guy!” your seventeen year old daughter madison shouts at you “you haven’t even tried to get to know him!”

you pinch the bridge of your nose and squeeze your eyes “maybe we’d want to if he didn’t sneak in through your window and and decide that our house was a perfect place to smoke weed. you know the rules”

madison rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest, her face settling into a scowl that reminds you all too well of your wife “that was one time”

“the weed or sneaking through the window?” you ask sarcastically, your voice now raising to match hers.

“the weed!”

“and getting high at school, was that one time too?”

a few weeks ago you and jessie had gone up to the school after madison was caught smoking a joint on the grounds. the two of you almost couldn’t believe what you were hearing when her principal told you what had happened.

as far as you knew madison had never deliberately done anything that would get her in trouble. all through her life her teachers had sung praises about how easy of a kid she was to teach, how well-behaved and respectful she was to everybody around her. that had been the truth until she started seeing her boyfriend nick.

nick had been expelled from his previous school and had even had a bit of trouble with the law, minor offences at best, but it was something that you and jessie had kept in the back of your minds when you heard through the grape vine that him and madison had begun seeing eachother.

“mum get over it, it’s not like you didn’t do it when you were my age” your daughter shoots back as she plants her hands on the kitchen table in front of her “if anything you were worse! i can’t believe you’re acting all high and mighty after the shit you and your highschool boyfriend got up to”

your eyes go wide and your grip on the top of the wooden dining chair you’re holding tightens “yeah, and you know where that got me”

“nick loves me” she tells you sternly “he wouldn’t treat me like that, and i wouldn’t let him push me around the way you did”

“excuse me?” you seethe “you have no idea what you’re talking about madison”

“you let him hit you! what more is there to kno—”

“your room. now” jessie raises her voice from where she stands at the sink behind you.

madison’s words die in her throat at the sound of jessie’s voice, the colour draining from her face as your wife turns around. “madison” she seethes, her eyes ice cold “i don’t want to see you. get out of my sight”

jessie’s calm but furious words send a chill through your daughter “mum—”

“don’t make me ask you again”

the two of them stare at eachother, jessie’s stern expression never faltering as her eyes bore into your seventeen year old. the tension in the kitchen is so thick that you feel like your throat is closing up and suffocating you. you rub a hand over the base of your neck and collarbones before madison turns and stomps up the stairs to her room, slamming the door to try to make a point.

you don’t dare look at your wife as you sit at the kitchen table, your head falling into your hands as your shoulders slump. jessie sits down in the chair next to you, abandoning the few dishes she was washing when the fight started, and lightly grips your forearm.

she gently pries your hands away from your face and holds them in her own. she runs her thumbs over your knuckles like she would when the two of you were much younger, her back and forth movement soothing your aching heart.

“i didn’t let him hit me” you say quietly “i didn’t lie down and take it”

“i know” jessie assures you, bringing your hands to her mouth and kissing your knuckles “but even if you did, it doesn’t change the fact that it wasn’t your fault”

you began dating luke in highschool and stayed with him through your first year and a half at college. the two of you were in the same english class during your junior year, and your teacher had assigned you as partners for a project. you had groaned and moaned about it to your friends at first, claiming that you wouldn’t be able to work with a guy who couldn’t even spell the word orange, but had quickly gotten over it when you saw how charming he was.

luke’s reputaion, much like nick’s, wasn’t the greatest. he had been dealing drugs and would occasionally sell to your friends whenever they wanted to get high, even on school grounds where he ended up getting caught more than once. he didn’t often go to school but if he did, he was always in trouble. starting fights, talking back, skipping class, whatever you could get in trouble for, he did.

over time that didn’t matter to you though. you got caught up in who luke could be, not who he was. you had gotten stern with him after he’d made you do all the work for your project, telling him that you were going to be informing your teacher that you had done the whole project whilst he refused to even turn up to do it. he had brushed you off and claimed that it wasn’t anything new and then spent weeks asking you to go out with him, claiming that although he had made a bad first impression he would be able to prove you wrong if you went out with him.

luke spent weeks asking you out and made promises about how he’ll take you on a real date and how he’ll get his act together if you gave him a real chance to prove himself.

you were young, naive and struggling with your sexuality and eventually, he had worn you down. you told him that if he was serious then he actually had to try and get his act together, not just make empty promises. luke had agreed and taken you out for pizza and a movie, paying for the date and doing all the cliche gentlemanly things.

he walked up to your door instead of just honking at you when he picked you up, introduced himself to your parents, opened your car door, complimented you and kept his hands to himself the whole night. he even settled for a kiss on the cheek when he dropped you off, wearing your lipgloss as a badge of honour as he bounded back to his car and pulled out of your driveway.

things were good for a while. he kept out of trouble and kept his promises to you, always showing you respect and allowing you to take the lead on many things. you lost your virginity to him two months in and he didn’t even boast about it to his friends, even after they called you a prude for not putting out right away.

the false sense of security changed you quickly after that. you got looser and started to smoke and drink with him even outside of parties your peers would throw. he’d sneak you out in the dead of night so the two of you could get high and have sex in the backseat of his beat up car, he would convince you to skip class. you had started dismissing your parents and ditching your friends for him after he got it in your head that the two of you only needed eachother.

luke also started getting more controlling. he wanted to know where you were, who you were with and what you were doing at all times. he’d start fights with boys he thought were hitting on you and then come crawling back when he realised he’s fucked up. he would apologise, promise that it wouldn’t happen again and then bring you small gifts to try to show you that he meant what he was saying.

during your senior year everything only amplified ten times more. you had lost all your friends, your grades were slipping and you and your parents were constantly fighting, it was a miracle you had even gotten into college the way you were behaving and your parents and teachers reminded you of such. it was a relief to you when you found out you got accepted and had quickly informed your boyfriend. he was happy for you at first, telling you that he’ll come visit when he can and that he’s facetime you every night.

the separation bliss only lasted for a little while before luke’s controlling nature came out again. he had the passwords to all your social media and had your location so he knew where you were. you weren’t allowed to follow any boys and he had to know all of your friends.

the first time he put his hands on you was after a party. he’d come to visit for a few days and you took him to some dirty frat that was notorious for having wild parties, you thought that maybe if you got him to loosen up a bit it would give him some peace of mind.

you were, unfortunately, very wrong.

a guy from your social studies class had made a move on you and even though you told him that you had a boyfriend, luke’s rage still overtook him. he drunkenly dragged you back to your dorm yelling and degrading you, calling you horrible names and saying how he knew he couldn’t trust you. when you actually got into your room you told him to shut up and he slapped you across the face, the stinging sensation lingered as the two of you stared at eachother before you silently got ready for bed.

he whispered apologies in your ear as you fell asleep, promising to never lay a hand on you again.

he continued to hit you when he was intoxicated and you learnt to hit him back. the first time you did it you broke his nose and he lied straight through his teeth when you took him to the hospital an hour later.

you lied for him too, even when the nurse pulled you aside and asked if you were safe.

it continued like that for months until your highschool best friend sent you a photo of luke and another girl naked in bed together. you broke up with him over the phone and told him to never contact you again. he cried and cried, pleading and begging you to stay with him until you hung up and blocked him on everything. he tried contacting you for weeks until finally giving up. only when you went back home for the summer did you find out that he had gotten the girl pregnant and that he actually ended up in jail. to this day you still think you’ve never breathed a deeper sigh of relief.

tears fall down your face as jessie takes the time to individually kiss each of your knuckles, the tender act of love fighting the violent memories that swirl in your head.

“you told her about him in confidence, as a way to warn her and keep her safe. she has no right to ever throw it back in your face” the canadian murmurs against your hand “what he did to you was not your fault”

“it was mutually abusive” you mumble as you shake your head “i was in the wrong too”

“he was high off his head most of the time. he could’ve killed you” jessie stresses as she looks into your eyes “you were protecting yourself”

you shut your eyes “jess”

“i know, sorry” she apologises quickly “do you want a cup of tea?”

you nod gratefully and jessie stands and kisses your forehead as you stare at the stairs. the part of you that was a mother longed to go up to your daughter’s room and just talk to her, but the other part of you, the part that kept you going in your hardest times, told you that you needed to stand your ground and not give in. that part was hurt. so, so hurt. you had never imagined that your own daughter could say that to you, angry or not. it was like she had taken the most vulnerable part of you and ripped it out, the feeling of betrayal stinging.

after your cup of tea, you and jessie begin to get ready for bed. she checks in on your younger daughter alex and bids her goodnight before coming back into your bedroom. she swaps out her sleep shirt for a jumper and slides under the covers next to you, pulling you into her and holding you tightly.

she kisses you shoulder lightly and tells you over and over how much she loves you, how much she absolutely adores you, lulling you to sleep with her gentle words and tight hold.

——

the next morning you and jessie rise with the sun. she goes for her morning run as you shower and get ready for work, packing lunches and making breakfast as alex bounds down the stairs. she talks your ear off about what she’s got planned for her day and what she’s planning to do this weekend with her friends. she eats happily and chooses to ignore the solum mood that’s rolling off her older sister as she walks into the kitchen.

madison is quiet as she makes her own coffee and makes herself a plate of bacon and fruit. the two of you share the same space without speaking, the tension from the night before has bled dry and been replaced with an awkward energy that hangs over your head heavily.

you can’t look at her. you can’t look at her because you know can’t tell if you’ll start crying or yelling. it pains you to feel like that towards your own daughter, your first born, the child who made you a mother.

it was even harder because the freckles that dusted her cheeks were all too similar to the ones you had traced a million times over. she was a spitting image of jessie, the two of them looking so similar that there had been times where people had asked you if she was actually yours. her expressions, her mannerisms, everything down the the way she walked was jessie and at times like this, it killed you.

“babe, did you see the morrisons are moving?” jessie asks loudly as she walks in the front door. you hear her take off her shoes and put them on the rack by the door “i wonder if it’s because he got that job in boston”

madison turns at the sound of her mother’s voice, almost expecting to be scolded. jessie merely spares her a glance before continuing “good for them, starting a family and all. hope it goes well”

“so concerned about another family when you’re ignoring your own” madison mumbles under her breath.

your wife pauses and you shut your eyes tightly “madison” you mumble tiredly. you had stupidly thought that maybe she’d sleep the argument off and wake up in a better mood, one that means the four of you start your days civilly.

“what? she didn’t even say hi to me as she walked in!”

alex rolls her eyes “stop being dramatic. she didn’t say hi to me either”

“shut up alex” your oldest hisses “this isn’t about you”

“no, you’re right. it’s about you and your dropkick boyfriend!” alex exclaims, standing and grabbing her plate before walking to the sink “maybe if you pulled your head out of his ass and realised you’re being a bitch to mum, you’d know that!”

you unintentionally slam your coffee cup down onto the counter “alexandra” you say calmly, shaking off the coffee that spilt onto your hand “enough, please. go get ready for school”

jessie, who has been surprisingly quiet, leans against the entry way to the kitchen and watches alex walk out and up to her room. she huffs “you gonna cut the attitude of what” she asks “because i’m sick of your shit. the disrespect isn’t gonna fly in this house and you know it”

madi leans against the counter and kicks her socked feet against the floor. she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at either of you, but she stays. jessie takes it as a sign to continue.

“you owe your mother an apology, a genuine apology. you don’t know the full story and you have no right throwing it back in her face the way you did last night” jessie continues, coming off the wall to lean over the kitchen table “maybe if you gave us a reason to like nick we would, but so far all you’ve done is break our rules and disrespect our house. the sneaking out, the drugs, getting into trouble at school — it stops now. all of it.”

your daughter stands there with her hands tucked in between her back and the counter just looking at jessie as she gets an earful, her expressionless face never once faltering under jessie’s hard gaze.

“you won’t know what to do in a situation like that unless you get yourself in that position, and for you to outright say that your mum let that happen to her is appalling, madison, truely” jessie shakes her head “you don’t have the right”

the silence sits heavily over the room, the suffocating feeling from last night once again returning. all you want to do is walk out of the room and go to work so you can distract yourself from the feeling of betrayal that has settled heavily on your heart.

your wife remains unmoving like stone. her face is neutral but her eyes betray her, her own hurt and anger swirling in her brown irises like whirlpools. the image reminds you of when she was still playing football, the determined look she’d get before an important game now moulding onto her face seventeen years later.

madi turns to you, tears welling in her eyes “i’m sorry mum, i’m so sorry” she apologises, still glued to her spot “i regretted it as soon as i thought about it. i should’ve never said it and me being angry isn’t an excuse for bringing it up”

all you can do is meekly nod as you allow her to get out her apology, knowing that if she doesn’t the feelings will sit with her for the rest of the day.

“i was angry, and i thought you guys weren’t hearing me out, and i snapped. i crossed a line that i shouldn’t have even gotten close too and all i did was hurt you” she says breathily as she plays with the hem of her sleep shirt “you didn’t deserve that. i’m sorry”

“i can’t tell you i forgive you right now because i don’t, but i hope you know that all we’re doing is trying to look out for you. we want you to be safe, and i want you to learn from my past mistakes” you explain gently, moving next to her to put a hand on her shoulder “you need to reign the attitude in though. no more of the bullshit. it stops now”

she nods quickly “it will, i swear”

“you can’t see nick for now” jessie pipes up again, quickly putting her hand up when madison goes to protest “no, i don’t want to hear it. you crossed a line and you’ll be punished for it”

madison refrains from huffing as her hands fall to her sides “okay” she says quietly

“the trust has to be earned back and when it is then we’ll discuss where we go from there” you reason in a softer tone “you need to pull yourself back into line”

“i will. i promise”

you and jessie share a long, wordless look before you wave madison off. she takes her plate and ducks her head as she passes jessie, going back up the stairs to her room.

jessie let’s a breath go before walking over to you. her arms loop around your waist and yours fall over her shoulders “that’s a step” she whispers into your temple “i still don’t like him”

“neither do i” you whisper “all we can do is hope that she feels safe enough to come to us if she needs to”

“she’s got a good head on her shoulders”

“my parents said the same thing about me” you whisper whilst pulling away “i just hope we’ve done enough”

jessie tilts her head before kissing you on the lips “i think you’re forgetting that we’re still learning how to be parents” she murmurs against you “you need to take a load off”

one of your hands comes up to hold her jaw delicately “we share the load”

she brushes hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear before holding the side of your head securely “i love you” she says “and i am so proud of you”

you kiss her again “i love you more”.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming fic #jessie fleming imagine #jflemings writes #jflemings woso #woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso angst #woso fic

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whitexwolfxx310 · 3 days

Text

||Baby Mine||

Pairing: Bucky x female reader || Bucky x y/n

Summary: Bucky comes home from from a mission and finds you sick. You make an appointment at the medical bay expecting a routine visit only to find out some pretty surprising news.

Warnings: Unplanned pregnancy, minor talk of options pertaining to, morning sickness, a disgusting amount of fluff, and a small sprinkle of spice at the end just because I felt like it.

Word Count: 3323

A/Ns: First and foremost, I would like to apologize for my hiatus. It was not intended and I hit a writers block. With that being said, I do have a decent amount in my drafts and have been working on getting some new things out there!

I would like to say a special thank you to @lil-darhk who gave me some encouraging words that I really needed to hear & helped get me back on here. ♥️

This is a ONE SHOT. This is not part of my BBWWS. I am still working on that but this is something I have been thinking of for a while and just felt like writing about. I know that a pregnancy troupe is not for everyone. (Personally, I love it and I'm not sure if I will write it into my other storyline.) SO because of that....I give you this. I hope you all enjoy it because the idea of Daddy Bucky to me is just 🤌🏻💋

Waking up to the smell of fresh ground coffee was always a tall tale sign of Bucky being home. Missions can be unpredictable. He can be gone for a few days, to a few weeks, and sometimes even months at a time. Luckily, this time he had only been gone about a month and a half.

Excitement took over as you forego your usual procrastinating in bed stretch to run out of the bedroom. Opening the door, the aroma was heavenly- as if a coffee shop had replaced your kitchen overnight. But your eyes immediately fixed on Bucky who was wearing a smirk while plating two separate stacks of pancakes.

“Breakfast, doll?” His voice as smooth as the warm syrup flowing down from those pancake stacks.

Running and jumping to wrap your arms around his neck was your response. Bucky chuckled, holding both arms out wider so he didn’t drop the plates. He put them down gently onto the counter so that his arms would now be only consumed with you.

“I missed you too.” You don’t have to look up from being buried in his chest to know that he’s smiling, it’s in the lighthearted tone of his voice.

Leaning back slightly with his arms still holding you, he looks into your eyes and plants a petal soft kiss on your lips.

“How come you didn’t wake me up when you got in?” You frown slightly looking up at him.

He shakes his head slightly and shrugs, “You just looked so… peaceful. I couldn’t bare to wake you up. At least, not without sustenance,” Bucky laughs.

Shifting your eyes from Bucky to the pancakes and back, your lips tug in each corner. “Smart man.”

His cooking always felt like home. It was filling, delicious, and you could almost taste the love it was made it with. “Mm,” the small noise escapes low in your throat as you take the last bite. Looking across the kitchen table, Bucky is slumped in his chair, arms folded with a warm smile as he watches you. “What?” The question comes out as a half joke and half concern.

Shaking his head slightly the smile grew. “Nothing, doll. Just missed you is all.” Leaning forward, Bucky rests his elbows on the table continuing to stare a tad bit more than normal.

“You’re acting weird.” You say, adjusting in your seat feeling slightly awkward.

“So what have you been up to while I was away?” He completely ignored your statement, asking an easy and lighthearted question.

“Um..” you start, breakfast starting to feel suddenly heavy in your stomach. “I uh-“ your teeth start to clench down as you swallow hard at the pooling saliva in your mouth. “I went out with Nat-“ your brows furrowed, starting to have difficulty with getting the words out. Bucky’s face quickly contorts to concern as you continue to fight the inevitable. “and her sister for some…s-some drinks-“ the word makes you gag.

Almost as if you channeled some super soldier serum, you pushed back from the table and ran- praying that the pressure of your hand over your mouth will be enough insurance to get to the toilet. It barely was. Breakfast came back up violently, loudly as you kneeled in front of the porcelain king. Even when you thought there couldn’t possibly be anything else to throw up, your stomach wrung on itself, forcing up every last drop of bile.

Breathing heavily into the bowl, skin now glistening with cooling sweat, you realize that your hair has been pulled out of your face. Your eyesight, now no longer blurry, sees Bucky sitting next to you; his right hand holding your hair back in a make shift ponytail and his left hand on the nape of your neck, the coolness of his metal hand being your favorite thing in the world at the moment.

“I’m sorry…” your sob echoed lightly in the toilet. “I’ve never been hung over like this before,” you sit back on your knees, grabbing some tissues to wipe your mouth. You bring yourself to look up at him through hooded and puffy red eyes, feeling instantly embarrassed. Bucky gives you a small reassuring smile as his hand gently rubs up and down your back.

“I’ve had the Russians drink me under the table a few times too. C’mon…” He helps you off of the floor, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

A warm bath, some fresh comfy clothes and a plain cup of tea seemed to make the nausea subside.

“I knew I shouldn’t have drank last night,” you say, looking into the lightly steaming mug. “My stomach hasn’t felt right in a few weeks. I actually have an appointment this afternoon in the medical bay, but I didn’t know you would be home. I can cancel it-”

“What time is your appointment?” He cuts you off,

“Um,” you look towards the wall and squint at the clock. “Actually in 45 minutes,” you laugh softly at the realization.

“Do you want me to go with you?” He offers.

“And miss your debriefing? Why, Sargent Barnes, that’s highly unlike you.” Even with not feeling great you can’t help but give him shit. This is the normal

Shaking his head softly he lets out a small laugh. “Alright,” he puts his hands up in a surrendering gesture, “but call me if anything comes up, okay? I’m worried about you.” Bucky’s voice is soft and sincere as he leans in and plants a small kiss on your forehead. His eyes hesitate, locking on yours for a moment. Leaning back in, he presses his lips to yours. “I love you. So much,”

“Love you more, Bucky.” You smile back up at him.

Sitting on the exam table in nothing but a medical gown, you swing your legs gently back and forth while gently nibbling the tip of your thumb as you wait for the provider.

You jump at the sudden knock at the door. In walks the new physicians assistant for The Compound, a young and beautiful woman who looked like she was straight out of school.

“Hi! My names Bree and I’ll be working with you today. According to the nurse who did your intake, you’re here for-“ she scrolls through your electronic chart on a tablet, “some abdominal issues. Tell me about that,” she sits down on a stool, listening intently.

“It’s.. really not a big deal,” you start, she keeps quiet waiting for you to explain in more detail. “I don’t know,” you start to fumble with a few loose strands of hair. “I’ve just felt this sort of… heaviness? It hasn’t gone away and is just always sort of there?” Your voice is unsure, feeling self conscious as you describe this silly little symptom that you felt the need to make an appointment for. “This morning I got sick. Well, I went out drinking last night, so I’m assuming I’m a little hung over.” Your words start to sound like your rambling.

“Hmm,” Bree says in response. “When was your last period?”

“Um,” the gears start turning in your head as you try to backdate events, plans that had been interrupted because of aunt flow. “About 4 months ago?” It probably wasn’t on purpose, but you could see the clinicians eyebrow raise a centimeter in question. “It’s not what you think!” You quickly try to defend, “I’m on the pill! My periods have always been irregular which is part of the reason I’m on birth control in the first place.”

“Okay,” she responds, skeptical. “And you take the pill religiously?”

“Yes,”

“Everyday?”

“Yeah…”

“At the same time?” Bree’s eyebrow inclines just a little more.

“Well,” now she has you questioning everything that you’ve said. “I always have an alarm on my phone and try to take it the same time everyday.” That makes you feel better, justified.

“Have you been sick recently? Aside from this morning, any need for any prescriptions, antibiotics?”

“I had bronchitis, but that was… god months ago?”

“Okay,” she says flatly, “so we’ll just go ahead and do a minor work up to see if we can figure out what’s going on. The first thing I want to do though, is a pregnancy test.” Even though you could feel your face change, Bree quickly added, “Routine stuff. It’s one of the bases that we always cover early on.”

You suddenly become hyper focused on the urine sample you left on the counter top, as asked by the nurse. Bree takes out a small, flat test from a nearby drawer and uses a pipette to transfer the fluid.

It could have been 30 seconds or 20 minutes, but the idea that pregnancy was even a remote possibility has your insides feeling like they’re folding in on themselves.

“Okay so,” Bree starts, getting your attention. “The test did in fact, come out positive. Since your cycles have been irregular, I’d like to do an ultrasound to see how far along you are and then we can talk about options. Just go ahead and lay back on the table, feet in the stirrups.”

"Positive?" You repeat. "But... What? How?" It comes out breathless.

"Well, sometimes antibiotics can actually cancel out the effects of birth control. We try to advise women to not be sexually active as the body might seize the opportunity to ovulate and result in an unplanned pregnancy. How about we just take a look and go from there, okay?" Bree says just a little too cheerfully as she pats the stirrups.

Following her directions is the only thing you’re able to focus on. Going through the motions of laying down, putting your feet up and opening your legs. Bree’s voice is a murmur mixed with a high pitch ringing as you look up at the ceiling tiles, counting each spect while she sets up the portable sono machine.

“Just a little pressure,” she says, guiding the wand like probe, looking at the screen. “Okay. So, judging from the size… I’d say you’re close to about 9 weeks, give or take a bit. Do you want to hear the heartbeat?” She asks, sweetly. And it’s the first time you’re able to look at her since lying down. Bree patiently waits for your answer with a warm smile. You reluctantly nod your head.

The room fills with soft, muffled whooshing. “It’s so fast. I-is that okay? Is everything okay?” You’re searching her face for any hint of something being wrong. In return, Bree just nods gently as she keeps her smile, still examining the screen.

“A fetus’ heartbeat is a lot quicker than ours. Everything looks perfect actually. Would you… like to see?”

“Yes, please.” You didn't hesitate with your answer this time.

The screen gets tilted towards you and your eyes start darting all around looking for the baby. Your baby. At first you don't see anything. It doesn't look like photos you've seen on Instagram of pregnancy announcements. But then, in the middle of what looks like a black balloon, is a bean with limbs. In the center of this bean is a lively flicker. Bree uses her index finger to point to the screen.

"There's the fetus' arms and legs," she points to the extremities, "and here," her finger gently taps on the pulsing center, "is the heart."

The whooshing matches the pace of the flicker; lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub. Hearing the heartbeat in synch with the pulsing on the screen causes your own heartbeat to match for a moment.

So this is love.

After a moment, Bree removes the probe and rips a paper from the ultrasound machine. "Here's some pictures for you," she hands them to you as you sit up on the bed. "I want to see you back here in three weeks for another check up... unless you want to discuss other options?" You shake your head. "Do you have any questions for me?"

“No, not right now.” You’re solely focused on the pictures now in your hand. Even though the image is burned into your brain, holding a physical copy has some how made it more real.

The rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind. There was no possible way that you’re actually pregnant. Even with the new noticeable symptoms and bathroom counter littered in double pink lined tests, it still seemed so unbelievable. That’s not even the hardest part. How am I going to tell Bucky?

Just as the reality starts to set in of having to tell the other adult who is directly involved, the front door to the apartment opens.

"Hey, doll!" Bucky calls loudly from the hallway, the thumping of his boots following his voice. "Sorry that the meeting ran late. I figured we could order in tonight. What about that Thai place you like?" He waits for a response while buzzing around the kitchen, no doubt making himself coffee for the dozenth time today. "Doll?" The question echoes through the quiet apartment.

"I'm in here," you acknowledge softly from the living room couch. Bucky pokes his head out from the hallway, breathing a sigh of relief.

"There you are," he starts walking towards you. "If you tell me what you would like for dinner, I'll call it in and then-" his voice and steps stop abruptly. "Hey... you okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm okay." You answer, obviously distracted.

"That doesn't sound too convincing," Bucky hesitated, looking you over and taking a few steps closer.

"I-I have to tell you something." Your tone is soft, scared. You’re fidgeting with the edges of your sweater sleeves.

“Is it something the doctor said?” His voice is softer now, reluctant and afraid. While his piercing, cerulean blue eyes continue to search yours for the answer, wide and terrified.

“I-“

Should I have gotten balloons? Made him open a box with one of the pregnancy tests or a cute onesie inside? Bake a damn cake?

“Y/n?!” Bucky didn’t yell but definitely had to get your attention. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on?!” He pleaded. Why were the words so difficult to say? Maybe because it hasn’t been said out loud yet. Or that it’s still so shocking. Or maybe that verbalizing it will just make it that more real. You turn on your heels and run to the bathroom.

“Y/n!!” He calls after you, but you know he’ll be just a few steps behind.

Picking up a handful of the positive tests off of the vanity counter with your heartbeat pounding in your ears in combination with his heavy footsteps getting closer.

“Seriously! What is going on-“ Bucky is flustered as he steps into the entryway and stops abruptly at the sight of you facing him, holding the tests fanned out.

“I’m pregnant.” There it is. You’re holding your breath, waiting to see what he’ll say. Aside from contraceptives, you’ve never had any kind of discussions pertaining to a family.

His face softens as he takes a step forward, his eyes hyper fixated on all the double pink lines. Bucky’s chest rises and falls deeply now. “You’re… pregnant? Not sick?” He asks to clarify, being cautious.

“Morning sickness, apparently”, a small laugh escapes and it surprises you. “But other than that, I’m fine. We’re fine.”

The ‘we’re’ part catches his attention. He’s looking into your eyes once again, searching. But, for what?

“Is this… something you want? With… me?” He suddenly sounds so adolescent and anxious. Who can blame him? This took you both completely by surprise. Knowing Bucky, he would support you in whatever you wanted. Whatever decision you thought was best for you, your body, your health in every aspect, he would respect and advocate for. He is being cautious with his response to the news until he knows what your decision is.

Putting the tests down, you take both of his hands into yours and take a deep breath.

“Bucky, if you had asked me this morning, I wouldn’t have known what our future would hold. But knowing what I know now… I want this baby. I want to be a mom and for us to be a family. That being said, I know that this is something that we never talked about. If this isn’t something you want, I underst-“

You’re suddenly cut off by his lips pressing into yours. It feels like a weight has been lifted as Bucky’s arms gently wrap around you to bring you closer. Kissing becomes increasingly difficult around giggles and the obnoxiously big smiles you’re both wearing.

When your lips finally part, Bucky’s eyebrows are raised in excitement. His eyes are darting around your torso as if the news would suddenly show physical changes on your body.

“I can’t believe it…” he breathes, “I actually get the chance to be a Dad-” The word comes out almost as a choked sob. My heart.

Reaching into your back pocket, you pull out the ultrasound Bree had given to you earlier, holding it up for him to see.

"Look, our baby's first photo!"

Bucky takes the picture as gently as if someone were handing him an actual newborn baby. He just stares, probably confused as to what he was looking at similarly to you just a few hours ago.

"I know it doesn't really look like anything right now- but I go back in a few weeks and-"

"Are you kidding?" He looks up from the black and white photo to meet your eyes, a watery sheen coating his own. "This is the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my life." Bucky says softly, as if to himself, looking back down at the picture. And he's smiling. A genuine, heartfelt smile.

That night was the closest he had ever held you in his arms. The two of you made up for lost conversations and started planning for your future and what it held as you laid in bed. Bucky talked about how he wanted to build a crib instead of buying one and was curious what the appropriate amount of time was to wait until you could both start telling everyone. Excitement was an understatement for this man.

"Can I go with you to your next appointment?" He asked, in a hopeful tone as his fingers traced along smooth, soft circles around your belly button. You giggle, wincing at one specific caress.

"Hey! That tickles! But, of course you can. You can come to all of them. I was... kinda hoping you would?" In return, your tone holds the same anticipation.

"I wouldn't miss it." Bucky's palm flattens against your belly as he places a kiss against your temple.

"Don't get used to that," You say looking down. "We're going to start growing and getting bigger any day now." You fake a frown, although there is a small part of you that isn't necessarily faking.

"Hmm." A low hum vibrates from the back of Bucky's throat as he shifts his body down along yours.

His fingertips skim the hem of your sleep shirt before pulling it up and exposing your stomach. The coolness of the air makes your abdomen tighten, but is soon replaced with petal soft kisses. "When you say 'grow', I hope you mean grow more beautiful by the day." Each firm press of his lips feels like its igniting your skin on fire with the newfound sensitivity. Your toes start to dig down into the mattress.

"Because, y/n..." Bucky repositions himself onto his knees, one now conveniently pressed in-between your legs. The pressure alone makes your heart rate spike and has you borderline panting. He hovers over you, "There isn't anything in this world I find more beautiful or more attractive than my girl carrying my child." He holds your gaze, intense and primal- more than you've ever seen.

"Do you understand?" Bucky asks with a raised brow. You nod hastily and he grins in response. "Good girl. Now, let's see if those rumors about hyper sensitivity are true. Judging by how you're writhing under me and the wet spot on my knee... I'm really going to enjoy the next few months."

If you enjoyed this, please check out my masterlist! Requests are open!

@peaches1958 @aquabrie @elsie-bells @pono-pura-vida @redbloodedgurl @almosttoopizza @beware-my-thorns @prettylittlepluviophile @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @calwitch @ozwriterchick @roofwitty779 @lessersole @lil-darhk @agoddoesnotplead @saranghaey @erinallene @mrsvxder @elizabeth916 @cjand10 @bucky-barnes-lover @skyf-7

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romanoffsbish · 1 day

Text

My Tummy Hurts

WandaNat x Reader

Warnings: Injured R / Hospital

It was an easy mission, so why were you here? | WC: 2,245

"Hey guys," you greeted your lovers with a smile, or so you thought, but all they got was an odd grimace.

"Detka?" You truly smiled then, but no communal joy followed as you slurred and pointed, "that's me."

"What the fuck happened to Y/N?" Natasha turned to accuse the men stood behind you, still on the quinjet.

——

The men immediately flew into a panic, all saying the same thing—you were fine, albeit worded differently. Natasha was seconds away from wringing their necks but her focus shifted back to you, who was now pouting and gripping at your burning stomach. "Wands?"

Wanda smiled at you, "What's the matter honey?"

"My tummy hurts," you uncharacteristically whined, laughter normally would've bellowed from behind you, Tony never one to miss a chance to tease someone, but then you swayed into Natasha's prepared arms and Wanda was quick to levitate you three to the medbay.

—

"Appendicitis?!" You exasperated for the third time, "are you fucking kidding me?!" Wanda shook her head, eyes empathetic as she reached for your hand, in the meanwhile Natasha chuckled over a spoonful of your lime jello—traitor that she apparently was. "Get out."

This caught the Russian's attention, her eyes widened at the malice in your tone and she was scared shitless to have to leave your side. You didn't mean it, as you wanted them close, but she didn't need to know that.

Natasha plopped the half finished jello down and moved her chair even closer, her hand reached for your free one and her heart settled when you let her grab it. "I—," she started but you just shook your head and smiled softly, "just don't laugh at me again, capeesh?"

"Now," you moved right on, the disdain back in your tone, "I just got back from space after karate chopping a pile of goop," you stole your hands back and gave your lovers a show of what took place before. Natasha trying her damndest to keep her laughter in, "Fucking sick as shit but now I'm taken out by a useless organ?"

"Mhm," Wanda hummed in amusement, "Bruce ran some tests and thinks that the creature you 'karate chopped' released a toxin into your body that caused the upset in your stomach and ruined your day home."

"Home," you repeated, voice soft as you reached for both of their hands again, squeezing to really get across to your lovers the sentiment of how great the drugs were. Not that you weren't a softie, because you were indeed the softest of the three, just never this publicly.

Natasha and Wanda shared a bit of eye contact before the witch was gone, you pouted at her absence but it was short lived when the assassin pecked your lips. "She's going to get the doctor malyshka, get the all clear so we can take you upstairs." You grinned.

"Yeah," she chuckled, "we knew you'd love that."

—

When you came to next, not even remembering falling asleep again, you immediately recognized the room. It was just as you left it all those years back, just with a few new boxes of clutter Wanda held onto and stored in here, and you were also lying in a more sterile bed.

Just as you tried to sit up you felt a hand on your chest keeping you down. "Wait, I'll sit you up Agent Y/L/N."

A frown naturally overtook your face at the unfamiliar sight of a blonde woman in a white coat, but before you could even consider taking her up on an identity the door flew open and your girlfriends ushered her out.

"Wa—," before you could finish speaking a spoonful of bone broth was shoved into your mouth. Judging by the sunsetting in the sky you knew it was already the following day, which was admittedly slightly alarming. Yet your urge to inquire the time flew out the window as the bite of food kicked the hunger in your body up.

After scarfing down the bowl you begged for more, but not of the soup. “Y/N no, I am not feeding you ice—.”

“I am dying,” you dramatized, “I need a pint to live!”

Wanda was about to admonish you for all the begging and humoring of death, but then she caught sight of your pouting lip and wet eyes, so of course she melted. Natasha rolled her eyes at your antics before she knowingly slipped out of the room to collect the first outlandish request of many, she could only assume.

When she returned the atmosphere was calmer, you were telling Wanda, who was sat at your bedside with a full smile, about the moments leading up to the fight.

“Tony, resident idiot that he is, caused the power in the entire city to go out for the sake of his suit mods, which made our attempts until then to stay hidden wasted.”

“Sounds about par for the course,” Nat teased her way into the conversation and you looked to her with a brighter smile at the sight of the ben and jerry pint.

The women took turns replying to you and spooning the ice cream into your mouth. You talked with a full mouth but Wanda let it go each time, a bit too relieved to still have you here for her to deem it worth scolding.

It wasn’t until the witch could see, in your eyes, just how tired you were that she decided to stop letting it all slide. It was sweet the way you tried to stay awake just to talk to them, but once the woman set the empty container down and wiped your lips clean she was inconspicuously putting you to sleep. Her words of reply faded into hums as she mindlessly traced her fingers over the exposed skin of your arms until your words aimed at Natasha faded out and became a snore.

—

The pair had left you sleeping in your hospice bed about an hour ago, it was hard to convince the Dr on duty to let you leave the ward after surgery but Tony's check book came out and now the woman is settled in a room across the hall for the night. Unnervingly.

The woman watched you sleep for about ten minutes after having administered your medicine and feeding you a pint of ice cream, much to your delight, Wanda's dismay and Natasha's envy. They'd made sure Friday locked you in before they headed down to eat dinner.

The natural redhead huffed, again, as she pushed the mushy green beans around her plate, ignoring the red tinted look of agitation Wanda sent her way. "Bros'."

(knock it off / quit)

"Nyet," the redhead grumbled over a bite of potatoes.

"She needs her rest," Wanda decidedly empathized.

"I missed her," the redhead sighed, "we were going to finish the bannister garden and cuddle under stars."

The witch felt a similar ache, that mission you were on took an entire month, you were fine too, but no longer. Wanda moved her chair closer, leaning her head on the redheads shoulder, dainty fingers wrapped around a muscular bicep, both woman shivered. For a moment the silence was peaceful, but then the witch sighed, "She was going to help me plant in said garden."

Natasha took a big bite of her steak and got lost in thought about how you somehow perfectly fit into their dynamic. You build things and spar with her, then go garden while discussing your latest read with Wanda. Like Nat, you can't cook but like Wanda you can bake.

"Our multifaceted, badass girlfriend," Wanda coo'd seconds later and Natasha snorted, "taken out by an appendix." Wanda shoved her shoulder but chuckled alongside her as they both silently regarded you with a different fondness. Natasha loved your goofy side.

The first time she'd met you was the worst day of her free life, Wanda was off on a dangerous mission and communications had been lost in the worst of it. You were her only hope as you worked tirelessly to get her back online. Her hands were shaking against her will, so she had to guide you, shields top agent, instead.

They called you her shadow, it was rumored around the base that you studied her fighting and mirrored her in not only strength but intellect. Unfortunately for you that meant being woken up only hours after returning from your own tumultuous mission. To meet your idol and crush while drooling into your pillow wasn't exactly pleasant, nor ideal when you're doing it to reconnect her with her girlfriend, it hurt.

Yet you persevered on through the awkward moments of silence and smiled when the comms cracked to life.

"Agent Romanoff, the comms are—."

"Natasha?" Wanda coughed and the redhead laughed emotionally, you were alarmed to see the Black Widow cry but it was endearing above all else. "Detka, I am so happy to hear your voice—fuck, I-I love you Wanda Maximoff, moya krasivaya detka."

Judging by the gasp on the other end you realized you were trapped in an intimate moment with them. It was beautiful and unfairly gut wrenching all at once. Soon enough it was Wanda's turn to cry out, "I love you too Natasha Romanoff; more than anything."

It was sweet, intimate, and then you sneezed. Glaring green eyes found yours and you could only shrug. "You kidnapped me from my bed, brought me to a room layered thickly in dust and didn't consider this."

"Natasha, what's going on?" The redhead smirked at you and whispered, "Wanda, meet Y/N, my stalker."

Your eyes widened at the lightweight true call out but kept your cool all the same. "You kidnapped me."

"You're free to go agent," she softly called out, it was a bit of a shock to see her this way when her reputation held a different tone. Just as you went to walk by she grabbed your arm, grip soft as she squeezed. Your attention shifted up and she smiled. "Thank you."

"Anytime," you shrugged it off nonchalantly but she knew you meant it sincerely. Just as you were almost out the door you turned and teased. "Thank me with an invitation to the wedding. I've experienced a Wanda party in full effect; I'll have the salmon."

Wanda appreciated your softer side the most.

One time, just before they asked you to be theirs, when you thought no one was watching, you had an entire conversation with their cat, Liho. Scratching his chin, feeling the purr of his gratitude on your fingertips as you animatedly discussed your day aloud with him.

"Natty and Wands are so considerate," you sighed dreamily, "and sweet—I woke up to breakfast and lunch made for me as if they weren't really busy."

You paused, hand reaching out to scoop the teetering feline up so he could sleep as you spoke a bit softer, "Then they both gave me a hug in greeting and I nearly couldn't breathe because of just how stunning they both are, no makeup and in their matching pjs."

The way you spoke made Wanda smile, her heart nearly leapt from her chest at your pure adoration.

An adorable groan fell from your lips before you shamelessly concluded, "you're the luckiest kitty on earth, with the unobtainable milfs of my dreams."

Wanda walked away with a pep in her step as she went to seek Natasha out with the good news. When the elevator dinged you released a breath shortly after, hoping now that they'd make a move as you pet their cat that would soon adopt you as his favorite.

Truth be told, everyone in the room favorited you.

—

A smile took over your face as you heard your lovers laughing through the vents of your old room back from when you were single but shared a floor with them. It was endearing, hearing the warmth and deepness of their well established connection still burning bright.

It took you awhile to feel welcome in their dynamic, even with the invitation; what really helped you along the way was the sneaky moments like these. Where they thought they were quietly simping over you but you caught the whispered words and sweetest giggles.

Hearing it then helped you to regard them as safe, because they were talking out their complex feelings. How they felt about the other having these feelings, neither was offended by the other and it shocked you. Their flattery was not lost on you with their willingness to even risk the beautiful thing they already had going.

Then to hear it now, and have it solidified that even in moments of upset they'd find a way back to that same peace within seconds—they're safe, and you are loved.

Something you knew well, and felt as they gave up on sleeping without you that night—against that doctors orders of course; when you swiftly looked up from your book the women were stood at the door with sheepish smiles. None of you spoke, all very much aware of the state of codependence that exists within your dynamic.

Natasha yawned dramatically and Wanda huffed before she snapped her fingers. Soon two cots were beside your bed once the red mist had cleared, all wires adjusted accordingly before they laid down, took your book and covered up, then slid a hand each into yours.

"Goodnight," you yawned, "I love and missed you too."

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tojisun · 1 day

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how does fwb hockey player simon met reader btw?

at a bar, born from a dare

your friends pulled you out of your dorm, ignoring your murmured grunts about how you have midterms to prepare for, and demanded that you let loose for once. to relax. to take it easy and take a dick, or whatever would help you unwind. you flipped them off but slipped into clothes that you feel pretty in.

and you are. damn you are.

simon doesn’t even know how he caught sight of you, just that one moment he was listening to mactavish talking about a tradition from his old team, and the next he was unable to tear his eyes off you.

you were…oblivious. uninterested, really, if it wasn’t for two of your friends noticing his blatant stares and turning to you to point at him as subtly as they could. of course simon still caught it because he was watching, vague interest exploding.

you turned to him, then, quickly. simon expected the shyness, or the flustered look especially because of his profession, but you had only looked back at him with a confused furrow in your brows and your lips pinched in wonder.

oh, he thought with a sudden giddiness. well, isn’t that something?

“jesus, look at that smouldering look,” sandy hisses, jabbing you at your side.

“ow!” you cry out, glaring at her, but she’s not even looking at you, her posture frozen as she looks at somewhere in the crowd.

you turned to your other friends, confused, but it was only theo who was looking back at you. he smiles, amused, and tilts his head to the side as if beckoning you to look.

you do so with a confused tilt of your head, your eyes roving past the loud crowd before finally landing on someone who—you blink in surprise—is already watching you.

oh but he is beautiful. he is big, his bulk obvious even underneath that hoodie, and tan. his eyes are narrowed in quiet scrutiny, but his cheeks are round in his little smile.

you wonder why such an intense man is staring at you like that. like you are all parts wondrous and interesting and just utterly captivating.

“bet you can’t even get him to kiss you tonight,” james teases, before you are jostled by the way he slings his arm around you.

you glare up at him playfully. “you sure about that, kacey?”

james grins. “a hundred percent.”

you shake of his hold on you, teasing anger rippling into quiet annoyance at the patronizing way he lifts his arms up in surrender.

“watch me,” you snarl, rousing from your seat and pointedly ignoring the hoots from your friends.

you’re barely out of hearing range before you hear sandy’s excited, “i can’t believe that’s—”

you don’t get to catch her next words, stomping your way towards the beautiful stranger’s table with your fists balled by your sides as you fake your confidence. his own friends seemed to have picked up on your presence, and you note how their conversation trickled, evanesced, until they’re all watching you now.

god, you want to hurl.

there’s absolutely no reason for these gorgeous men to be friends, let alone to be gracing your stumbling walk of shame—because what else could it be, at this point—with their intense gazes.

you feel inspected. judged.

this is so wrong. i should just turn around. i should just—

but your thoughts screech to a halt because beautiful stranger doesn’t let your doubts fester. he doesn’t let them bloat. instead, he stands from his group, flicks his friend’s ear after hearing whatever it is he must have murmured, and meets you half-way.

“hey,” you say, your voice cracking embarrassingly.

“hey to you too,” he replies and oh wow, his voice descends on you like fucking molasses.

then he grins, cheeky. “was your walk here to invite me out or?”

“please,” you continue to croak out. “unless you want to, uh, to stay?”

“god, no,” he says and devours the remaining space between you two. he raises his arm up in question, and you nod, giving it to him, before feeling the way he tugs you close to his side, his warmth rubbing against your own.

you watch him watch you.

oh this is awkward…

“i’m simon riley,” he finally says after a while.

you say your name in return, giving him a customer service smile. “nice to meet ‘cha.”

simon riley nods slowly, his brows furrowing adorably like he cannot understand what you are—which, honestly, rude, but whatever.

“so, uh. come, let’s?” you chirp.

‘come, let’s’? you scream to yourself. what are you? the pope?

he laughs, endeared anyway. “come, let’s.”

you ignore the mirroring yips from simon’s friends’ table and your own as you two walk out.

#anon #hockey au #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ask #suns #CLEARLY I WENT BONKERS HAHDHEHE

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24kmar · 2 days

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄 (T. DUNCAN, A. DONALDSON, P. ZWEIG)

𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄

Apart of my fic "born stunna" and p2 to my fic "why you do the things you do"

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Art Donaldson x fem! Reader, patrick zweig x fem! Reader, tashi duncan x fem! Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ MDNI,smut (edging, choking, bondage, being called a brat), angst, language, age gap (early 30's tashi, pat, and art early 20's reader) manipulative reader (wolf in sheeps clothing), sugar! Baby reader!, cheating, comfort sex with patrick and reader.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: y/n goes home after hanging out with patrick, to which tashi and art scold her. What happens when patrick decides he cant get enough and goes to her match the next day. Arising conflict. Enjoy!! 🎀🩷

THANK YOUU TO MY GIRL @doll-0f-flesh FOR HELPING ME OUT IMMENSELY

Y/n learned from a very young age that she could get whatever she wanted. Growing up the golden girl with daddies money. All she need to do was flash her million dollar smile and she was in. That didnt mean she didnt work hard. No, she worked harder. Why use a minimum of your abilites to get something when you can get anything.

She was smart, ambitious, power hungry, always wanting more. She was good at using things to her advantage. A rich scholar and outstanding tennis player. Tennis was almost everything. Playing since 13, getting a scholarship to stanford at 17, going pro by 19, getting signed to NIKE a year later, and being coached by one of the best tennis players by 21.

Tashi and art have been coaching her for 2 years. Her now being 23. The word failure wasnt in her dictionary. It wasnt win or lose, just win. And tashi loved that. Tashi also loved her. And so did art. They both found themselves falling in love with her 3 months into coaching. To which they decided to go on a limb and make her theirs.

"Where the fuck were you" tashi spits out, walking towards y/n as she puts her keys on the counter.

"Taking a drive, i told you this before i left." Y/n rolls her eyes. "Dont roll your fucking eyes at me." Tashi says putting her finger in y/n's face. "When you said 'drive'" tashi airquotes "i didnt think you meant come home two fucking hours later! You have a fucking match tomorrow y/n!" tashi yells

Turning her head, y/n see's art leaning against the doorway, arms crossed with a dissapointed look on his face.

"Were you with patrick?" Art speaks up, walking towards her. Now its tashi and art infront of her. By the she gives him, the answers clear. "You fuck him?" He asks, walking behind her. Moving her hair out of the way and placing slow kisses on her neck. He already knew she did. He just asked to mess with her. "Course you did" tashi scoffs, gripping y/n's jaw.

"You know whats gonna happen now right?" Tashi asks, recieving a nod from y/n.

"Tashi please" y/n pleads, arms tied above her head. Tashi's strap hitting all the right places.

"Why'd you fuck him huh?" Tashi ask gripping her neck, though not enough to restrict any airflow. To be met with incoherent mumbles. Squeezing harder she asks again "fucking answer me" she gritts out, using her other hand to slap y/n's cheek. Not hard, just a tap.

"Mmm, cus y'were being mean" y/n babbles "bein too hard on me with tennis." She moans, getting closer to her climax.

"so you're telling me you did this cause you were being a whiny brat?" Tashi scoffs, pulling out. Ruining her orgasm for the second time tonight.

Letting out a pitiful whine y/n begs "tashi please, i just wanna cum" tears starting to brim. Turning her head to try another tactic. Locking eyes with art as he sits in a chair in the corner of the room. "Art" she whines, hoping he'll help tashi go easy on her.

"Nuh uh brat, hes not gonna help you" tashi spits, lining up her fake cock with y/ns entrance, slaming into her. Standing up, art walks over to the bed. Sitting behind y/n, pulling her to rest her back against his chest. Trying to lessen the blow, kissing her neck, fingers groping her front softly. The softness of his touch contrasting with the roughness of tashis.

It was gonna be a long night.

𝑮𝑨𝑴𝑬 𝑫𝑨𝒀

Stepping out of the car, y/ns nerves are all over the place. She knows she cant lose. If she did, they would blame it on patrick and what happend yesterday. She would never hear the end of it.

Now here she is, stepping out of the locker room. Stretching and getting ready for the match to start. She doesnt see art or tash. But she knows they see her. She feels a weird presence. Like someones watching her. Turning to look behind her she sees...oh shit. Patrick.

Locking eyes with her he send i small wave and smile. Why the fuck was he here? Did he want tashi and art to kill him?

She couldnt let him throw her off her game. Not win or lose, just win.

The match is almost over, y/n dominating the court. Walking her opponent like a dog.

"oh fuck no" tashi scoffs

"What? What happened?" Art asks, worried something happened with you.

"Patricks here" tashi shakes her head in disbelief "the fucking nerve on him".

Watching him get up to go to the bar, they stand up to follow. If he thought he was just gonna get away with this, he was sorely mistaken.

"Patrick" art calls out, him and tashi walking towards pat. "Why the fuck are you here" tashi narrows her eyes.

"Woah guys, dont get your panties in a twist" patrick chuckles "just here to support my girl" he smiles.

Oh no the fuck he didnt.

"you mean OUR girl" tashi spits "what on gods green fucking earth made you think you could go for her. None the less, come here."

"we already told you yesterday, dont ever try coming for her again. Are you trying to get us mad?" Art says

"Dont-" patrick begins, getting cut off by y/n

"Where the fuck have you guys been" y/n speaks, her words laced with venom "you missed my whole fucking game"

"We're handling something" tashi dismisses her

"Handling something, or being petty"

"Dont act like you didnt start this" tashi turns to y/n

"If i upset you then talk to me about it, dont scold me like a fucking child and pick a fight with patrick"

"Guys-" art tries to calm them down

"If you didnt act like one i wouldnt have to" tashi retorts

"you know what, fuck this." Y/n scoffs, reaching into her tennis bag "i hope you're happy to hear that i fucking won" she says, shoving her medal into tashis hands. "Dont even bother taking me home, im calling an uber" y/n turns around and walks away.

Tashi and art felt like shit. The whole car ride home being completely silent. Tashi staring at the medal and art driving, thoughts swarming his head. When they got home, y/n was no where to be found. Her keys and car gone , everything else still there.

They called out her name, looking everywhere. They didnt think the fight couldve had affected her to the point where she just went MIA. Calling and texting her countless times. Only to be met with the call going straight to voicemail. Meaning one of two things, they were blocked or her phone was on airplane mode. Both bad scenarios since it meant she didnt want anything to do with them.

The only one who knew where she was, was patrick. She didnt go far, just to some hotel. He was the only person she answered the phone to. She knew he wasnt the one who started it, since he explained what happend. Now here she was, crying into the bed as he rubbed her back soothingly.

He had never seen her cry, unless it was tears of pleasure or joy. Tears of pleasure when he made her feel good. And tears of joy when she won. It broke his heart.

Making her sit up, he cupped her face and spoke "what you thinking about pretty girl" he said softly, brushing her hair out of her face. "Dont wanna talk about it" she sighs "can you just...hold me?" Without skipping a beat he pulled her into a hug and sooths her. This had been the most intimate moment theyve had.

"Just wanna forget" she sniffled

Moving to kiss her neck, he whispers "can i help you forget?"

Sighing, she nodded. She needed this, and he needed her to know that he was always there. Whether art and tashi wanted him to be or not.

When tashi said patrick had no dreams she was wrong, soso wrong. Because he did have a dream. And it was y/n. She was all he wanted, all he needed.

She was arts star, tashis winner, and patricks dream.

His dream, his fantasy, his happily ever after.

#Spotify #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #art donaldson smut #tashi donaldson smut #tashi donaldson #tashi donaldson x reader #tashi duncan x reader #tashi duncan smut #tashi duncan #challengers x reader #challengers smut #challengers movie #🪞𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐑𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 🎀#💭𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬💭

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stars444hearts · 2 days

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big reputation || 2

caitlin clark x actress! reader masterlist - prev - next warnings: none

caitlin_clark22

Liked by kate_martin03, yn_ln, and 820,508 others

caitlin_clark22 by the grace of whatever’s up there 🙏🙏🙏 Tagged: kate_martin03

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kate_martin03 caption’s tuff →caitlin_clark22 enough.

user1 WAIT IS IT A NOD TO Y/N’S TWEET →user2 its def not they don’t even know each other →user3 NO Y/N LIKED THE POST

—

Y/n smiled as she read through Caitlin’s comments. After the eye-opening conversation she had with Kate last night, Y/n had become more open to the idea.

She also thought the caption was cute.

Y/n groaned as her stomach grumbled. She placed her phone on her bed, stood up, cracked her spine, and walked into her kitchen.

Y/n decided to make something easy, then sit on her couch and binge-watch crappy reality tv. This was her first week off in months and she would spend it rotting in her living room like every normal 21-year-old.

Y/n couldn’t tell you the number of below-deck episodes she had binge-watched, but by the time she finished, the sun was down and the crickets were chirping. She begrudgingly stalked back to her bedroom, changing into her pajamas and throwing herself down on her bed.

She picked up her phone, only to drop it a second later in shock.

[yn_ln] Caitlin Clark 4h ago sent you a message

—

Caitlin, on the other hand, was freaking out. She had never even spoken to Y/n before, but Kate had convinced her to DM her.

Caitlin probably typed and retyped her DM 50 times before settling on a ‘hey !’

Caitlin groaned and shoved her phone down after finally hitting send. She couldn’t help but picking up her phone every ten seconds to see if Y/n had opened or responded to her DM.

After 10 minutes, Caitlin had eventually given up hope of a response and sighed, turning off her phone and putting her head in her hands.

Caitlin buisied herself by ordering doordash and sitting on her couch, rewatching film her coaches gave her to look over. She lost track of time and found herself mindlessly picking at her fingers, only coming to when she realized it was past midnight. ]

She groaned as she stood up from the couch, attempting to rub the sleep from her eyes. Caitlin walked into her bedroom as she sat on her bed. She picked up her phone and almost threw it when she saw her most recent notification.

[caitlin_clark22] Yn Ln 20m ago sent you a message

—

Caitlin hey !

Y/n hey yourself sorry for leaving you on delivered i was binge-watching below deck

Caitlin which one?

Y/n mediterranean, duh

Caitlin good. That's the best one Yn liked this message

Y/n so, i’m assuming kate told you to dm me?

Caitlin well, to be honest, i had kinda been wanting to ever since i met you on facetime with kate.

Y/n brother that was 6 months ago 💀

Caitlin LEAVE ME ALONE, OK i'm just a girl

Y/n SO REAL whenever people tell me im doing something wrong i get so annoyed like im just a girl that curb shouldn’t have been there 😠

Caitlin LMFAOO Anyways, yeah, kate finally bullied me into texting my celebrity crush who she just happens to be best friends with

Y/n 🤨🤨 is that all i am to you?? a pretty face?

Caitlin NO NO I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT I SWEAR

Y/n LMFAOO im just fucking with you anyways, going back to that… celebrity crush, you say? 🤨😏

Caitlin 😶 moving on…

Y/n no, no i wanna know

Caitlin umm… basically i’ve just been really obsessed with your show lately and kate told me i should shoot my shot but im now realizing maybe i should save that for the court

Y/n LMFAOO nah, kate was right she showed you my tweet, right?

Caitlin yeah, why?

Y/n because i wasn’t kidding.

#stars444hearts #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #iowa wbb #iowa hawkeyes #wnba draft #wnba #wlw #lesbian #wcbb #wcbb x reader

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irisintheafterglow · 2 days

Note

Hey there!

Saw your requests were open (if it isnt,just ignore this)

But i just love your satoru x reader and co parenting megumi????and i would KILL to see like, something bad happening to reader (like a mission going wrong,she passing out or getting sick or all) and boys just panicking cause satoru loves reader,and megumi sees her as his mother???

Sorry,im a sucker for hurt/comfort trope

Lots of love!!! you're amazing!

aww this is so cute, thank you for the request anon <3 wrote it as sick fic instead of injury since i,,,, have written like 3 things with that trope recently so let's do a fluffy sick fic instead lol. hope you like it :))

cw/tags: established relationship (pet names babe, baby, sweetheart), gn!reader, some explicit language, mention of eating

"the kid thinks you're gonna die," your boyfriend says as he enters your room, setting a grocery bag on your desk and digging around for the bottle of orange juice. "you're starting to worry me too, honestly."

"i'm not gonna die, babe; i think it's just the flu," you groan, propping yourself on an elbow and attempting to sit up. you're unsuccessful, the throbbing in your head and the chills in your arms too overwhelming. you fall back against the pillow with a less-than-ceremonial thump. satoru crouches in front of you, eyebrows drawn and forehead wrinkled in concern. he pulls down his blindfold and you're met with the bright blue eyes you loved so much.

"yep. looks like you're dying soon," he declares with a curt nod and you scoff, a chuckle turning into an aggressive fit of coughing. satoru is lightning-quick, grabbing a new bottle of water and snapping off the cap before holding it up to your lips. "here, drink." you push his hands away, wordlessly insisting that you can drink on your own while still hacking relentlessly. "nuh-uh, just let me help you." with a frown, you let him tilt the bottle toward you and take a few careful sips. "you are frustratingly stubborn," he sighs.

"i have to be if i need to deal with you all the time," you joke hoarsely, sips of water becoming gulps.

"yeah, but you love me for it," he finishes and you agree with a shrug. "easy, there," he warns as you keep downing the water. "don't want you choking again."

"i'm fine, satoru."

"you've been working yourself too much, you know."

"hypocrite," you counter and he frowns, taking a seat on the edge of your bed. you were right, even though he didn't want to admit it. satoru was always the first one to say that someone was working too hard, just to take the burden for himself. it was a red flag, you said a few weeks ago over convenience store sushi; you also noted his 'concerningly inflated ego, lack of spatial awareness, and general disinterest in things that could be momentarily unpleasant.' you'd finished it, though, with a long-winded comment about how his red flags, in all their scarlet glory, made satoru himself. maybe it was just his melodrama, but he'd cut off his hand if it meant you were able to joke like that again.

"i'm serious. i think your body's shutting down because-"

"because i've been away too long, i know. i don't need a lecture right now, satoru." you swallow the last of the water and settle back onto your pillow, grumbling when you feel the side of your bed sink with your boyfriend's weight. "baby, you're gonna get sick, too."

"that means i get to take a day or two off," he points out, fitting his face into the divot between your shoulder and neck. despite your complaints, he throws off the comforter and replaces the blankets with his arms. "don't grrrr me, babe. you need to burn off your fever and i run warmer than any of these sheets."

"aren't i sweaty and stinky and yucky? how can you be touching me when i'm all gross?"

"you mean, how can i love on you right now when you're just being a human?"

"mhmm. you don't find it gross?"

"of course not, sweetheart," he reassures you with a kiss to your shoulder. "i'd be a real dickhead if i only loved you when you were feeling 100%."

"yeah, you're only half a dickhead for other reasons," you murmur into the pillowcase and he laughs, the sound reverberating against your back. before your eyes settle shut, you catch the door of your room opening and vaguely make out a messy head of black hair peeking around the corner. "megs?"

"oi, adults only," the other occupant of the bed threatens, pulling you closer and attempting to flip you to your other side to face him. you unbuckle satoru from around you, though, and manage to sit up. megumi pads carefully into the room, like you'd crumble into sand if his steps were too loud. "come in, i guess," your boyfriend says dramatically with a wave of his hand.

"satoru, i swear-"

"sorry, baby. shutting up." satoru flops back onto your bed and you reach out to megumi, who stares at your hand for a moment before rushing into your arms. "hey, megs. since you're here, you mind grabbing me a soda from the breakroom?"

"i thought you were shutting up, satoru," you remind him, voice poisonously sweet. he echoes your reminder in a mockingly high-pitched voice. "i'm gonna kick you out of my room if you don't stop, mister."

"you wouldn't dare," he gasps.

"oh, i would."

"yeah," he concedes. "you definitely would, but i love you for it." with satoru temporarily placated, you return your attention to the small child in your arms.

"you doing okay, megs?" he nods, eyes shut against your chest and holding you tight. "i'm not gonna die, buddy. i promise." you rub your hand up and down his back, combing your fingers through his hair when you're abruptly swung backward onto the bed. "jeez, satoru, what are you-"

"get the kid, it's nap time," he mumbles with finality, resecuring his body around yours and motioning for megumi to climb in. he does, and you drift off sandwiched between your boys, feeling a little lighter for the first time in days.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk fluff #ask iris!

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sports-on-sundays · 3 days

Text

two for one / LN4 & OP81 / Part 1

Summary: Lando x female!Australian!McLaren marketing unit worker!reader x childhood best friend!Oscar - Two Formula 1 drivers who just so happen to race for McLaren also just so happen to have fallen for you. Takes place from Australian Grand Prix 2024 to Monaco GP 2024.

Warnings: cussing, jealousy, flirty friendship, angst, manipulation, lying, OH THE DRAMA, confusion, mention of throwing up, not feeling well

Requested?: No.

Author's Note: I feel like this idea is so unoriginal but I don't care. The work of the reader is not mentioned much at all because there's no way I'm putting the energy into that. Also: Link to a poll related to part 2

"We should have Oscar over!" your mother exclaims. "I'm sure he's going to b-"

"Wait, Oscar's coming over?!" your younger sister exclaims.

"No, no, no," you sigh. "He's not. Mum, he's busy. We can't be bothering him with that. He's got too much on his plate. It'll just be a burden for him."

"No, it won't! Oscar's always nice!" your sister, Ava, remarks.

You sigh. "He's polite. He's very good at being polite. But it would still be a burden for him."

"You get to see him, like, everyday-"

"Not everyday-"

"-but me and Mum haven't seen him in ages. Oscar's like an older brother!"

You roll your eyes. "I'll see what I can do."

You're surprised when it's Oscar who brings it up. A week before the Grand Prix, he comes to dinner, which is nice for your sister and mum, you suppose.

But it's after he leaves that your mum makes a comment you're not sure you like.

She sighs and says, "Oscar's so sweet, Y/n. I'm sure that boy loves you."

"Sorry?" you look up in surprise. It was said so casually, you weren't expecting such a comment.

"He's such a sweet boy," she starts, as though he's still the sweet boy from down the street that used to babysit Ava with you, and not a famous Formula 1 driver. "You've known him for so many years. I would completely approve of him as a boyfriend for y-"

"Mum, I'm twenty-two! I don't need you to approve who I date! " you sigh, rolling your eyes.

"Yes, yes, I know. But don't you see the way he looks at you? He talks of you so fondly. He's just so kind with you- extra kind. More kind than how he is with other people."

You sigh, looking down at the tablecloth, picking your nails. "Well," you murmur, "if he really feels that way, he can let me know. But for now, I'm not interested in him... I... I don't think..." your voice fades off.

"Y/n. Haven't you had a crush on him for years? What changed that?"

You shrug, and murmur embarrassed, still not looking up, "I guess I just... moved on to someone else?"

"Y/n! You have a boyfriend?" your immature sister giggles.

"No! Just friends. But... I kind of like him, and I think he might like me, too."

"What's his name?"

You clear your throat, glancing down. You're not sure how to get out of this, so you decide simply to get up, saying you'll clean the dishes.

Because you know your mother would be, to say in the least, unhappy to know that rather being interested in Oscar, you're interested more in his teammate, Lando.

Or, at least, you think you are.

As you rinse the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, you think. Lando really is your type, in looks and personality. Everything you want in a guy. He's got a good sense of humour, a kind heart, and an adventurous spirit.

Not to say Oscar doesn't have all those things. It's just different.

Besides, you like Lando's curly hair. You like his greenish eyes and easy smile. You like his tanner skin and dark eyebrows. You like his build, you like his hands; you're just more attracted to him.

On the surface, maybe Lando and Oscar don't seem so different. But to you, one is your best friend, and the other, you want, just maybe, as a little bit more.

Are you not appreciating Oscar? You don't know.

But you sure know how you feel, and nothing is going to change that.

Or, at least, you don't think anything will.

The whole weekend after that goes as usual, but you're happy to be in yours and Oscar's homeland. After the practice sessions, you're seated, sipping from a your water bottle, when Lando plops down next to you. "Hello."

"Hey," you nod to him with a smile. "How's it going?"

He smirks like the stupid idiot he is and says, "Better, now that I'm with you."

You roll your eyes, and look up to see Oscar walking over he sits down on the other side of you, and you comment, "It's pretty crazy, isn't it?"

"What is?" Oscar asks.

"We used to play in this park, you know? Remember, dragging Ava along behind us?"

Oscar chuckles, nodding. "And my three little sisters. It was you and me, dragging around the four younger ones because our parents wanted a break."

"Yeah, your mum had Pilates or something," you joke.

He nods again with a grin. "Yeah. Probably something like that."

Then Oscar gets up and walks off, and Lando says, "So you two really have known each other forever?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Both born in Melbourne, a little over a month apart."

"So when's your birthday?" Lando inquires, crossing his arms across his chest.

"May 26. Funnily enough, that's the Monaco Grand Prix."

"Oh boy. I guess that means we'll have to drive well that weekend, even better. You know, for you."

"Yeah," you chuckle. "You're going to dedicate the whole Monaco Grand Prix to me?"

"Well, you certainly deserve it," he grins, patting your back before standing up and walking away.

Gosh, do you like both those guys so much!

"Ayy!" you grin, high-fiving Lando. "Let's go, baby! A podium. Nice job! And you too, Osc! Nice job, dude!" you add as he passes. He beams almost as big as Lando and nods, thanking you, before walking off.

"Well, what a gift," Lando winks. "To have you greet me after the Grand Prix."

"You're hopeless," you grin, rolling your eyes. "Good race, though. Solid, from both you and Oscar."

Lando suddenly wraps you in a hug, which makes your body practically turn to stone. "Thanks so much. You're so encouraging."

"O- Of course, Lando. Always."

"M-hm, and that's what I like about you," he says, pulling away from the hug, before walking off.

You're standing there, blushing softly, at the fact that Lando Norris just hugged you, when you turn your head, and, unexpectedly, see the brown eyes of Oscar lingering on you. As soon as your eyes meet, though, he swiftly turns his crestfallen face down, away from your face.

All the sudden, you feel a large, nervous stone in your throat.

Did he see you hug Lando?

Is that what that look about?

Or is he just down about not getting a podium at his home race?

Yeah, maybe that's just it. Anyone would be, right?

But, inside, you know that's not it. You know Oscar. He keeps cool. He's a good sportsman- a really good one. He's polite. He understands what had to be done.

So what's that look about?

Your brain can only reach one conclusion, and you're not sure if you like it.

Oscar takes a deep breath and starts walking toward you. Maybe it's time to say what he's thinking. If there's any chance of things going on with you and Lando, it's probably good for you to know how he feels, right? Just so there's no confusion.

At least that's what Oscar's figuring.

But, who knows, when he stands up and walks over, if he's actually going to admit it. For years, he's felt this way, and he's never had to guts to just say it, knowing you don't feel the same way.

Oscar wouldn't say he's scared of it, but he's definitely not keen on the idea of being rejected, which he assumes he likely will be.

You're just getting some coffee before you get back to your work, and Oscar, though he's really not thirsty or in want of any coffee right now, is ready to pretend he is.

The excuse is that he's tired. Perhaps it's too far-fetched, since it's pretty much a known fact throughout all of McLaren HQ that Oscar Piastri loves sleep, but-

Yeah.

He's 'super tired.'

You fill your paper cup up with coffee, in deep thought about work, and nothing else. Just as you're about to walk back to your desk and get back to the work, as you're turning around, a smooth hand grabs your forearm, and you spill your coffee on your McLaren T-shirt in surprise. "O- Oscar!" you exclaim, stumbling a bit at the utter closeness. "H- Hi!?"

"Hi," he says with earnest eyes. "I'm.... sorry."

"It's okay. Luckily it wasn't too hot. Oh well. I'll just go change; I have an extra shirt, sorry about that! Anyway, see you around!" And then you're off, leaving your half-full coffee cup sitting on the counter.

Oscar is left standing there, staring at the cup, his hand still out from where he had touched your arm.

Alright then. Well, maybe it's not meant to be.

Oscar's terrible timing is that he calls you the moment you're sitting next to Lando in his car, talking.

Lando is yapping. "-so then the girl said some spunky comment or whatever, and she reminded me a lot of you. You know, because I would've been the tough macho man in the movie that saves you from the fucking murder men, ri- Wait, who's calling?" he inquires, leaning over closer.

You laugh a bit at the interruption of his silly talking, and don't even think to not let Lando see who's calling. "It's Oscar..." you say vaguely, before looking up to meet Lando's eyes. "Why would he be calling?"

Lando shrugs, a curious streak in his expression. "Well, pick up, and see."

So you do. "Hello, Oscar?"

"I'm sorry for spilling coffee on you today," he says immediately, which causes a small laugh to escape from your lips.

"Osc, it's fine. I spilled it on myself. Did you call just to say that?"

"No," he laughs. "I was just wondering if tomorrow night you wanted to hang out or something..."

"Oh... yeah, sure, that'll work for me."

"Oh, nice. Alright. Also, one more question. I swear it's not related, either."

"Go on?"

There's a few moments of silence, before you prompt, "Oscar, are you still there?"

"Yeah. So... I was just wondering... are you dating anyone? Because. I know you and Lando are pretty close friends, and I was just wondering."

"Oh!" you say in surprise, your cheeks involuntarily going pink. And, without thinking, or considering, at all, you blurt, "No, of course not! Just friends!"

Immediately, you feel guilty.

You in no way lied, but you still feel like you just did something wrong.

Both you and Lando would say you're just friends.

But more and more, neither of you seem to want that.

And if Oscar's interested in you...

Oh, God.

"Oh, alright." He sounds somewhat relieved, which makes your heart tighten even more. "Alright, sounds good. Want me to just drive you from work? We could leave, at like, 8:00 P.M.?"

"8:00? What on earth are you doing, leaving at 8:00 in the evening?"

"I have something in mind."

"Uh?"

"You'll see. Trust me?"

"Alright," you shrug, still feeling very unsure.

"Okay. See you later, Y/n."

"Bye bye, Osc," you say, before hanging up.

The moment you do, Lando leans in close, with wide eyes, "What did he say?"

"Just wants to hang out."

One of Lando's eyebrows cock up.

"Lan," you chuckle. "That's all it is. Just like... like, how you and me just hang out."

"Mmm'kay, then..." he nods slowly. He's silent for a few seconds, before commenting. "Lan. That's cute."

"You're cute," you blurt, again, not thinking.

You really should try that more. You know, the whole thinking thing. You're sure you'd get in a lot less trouble if you used that brain of yours once in a while.

Lando immediately shows a pleased, toothy grin. "That's more like it," he comments, slipping his hand into yours, before he starts driving. "Up for an evening drive?"

"Always. Lan."

He winks, bites his lip, and gets driving.

"So, where are we going?" you ask as you walk to Oscar's car.

"I'm not telling you."

"Well, you're wearing a McLaren hoodie and grey jeans, so... somewhere casual."

"Good guess," he smiles, unlocking his car.

He opens the passenger seat door for you and as you're getting in, a piece of paper flies out of your pocket. You feel a lump in your throat as Oscar, with his quick reflexes, snatches it up off the ground.

Formula 1 drivers suck.

"Ca- Can I have that?" you ask quickly.

"Sure," Oscar says, handing it to you.

But it landed facing up. There's no way he couldn't have read the little note from Lando on it.

As Oscar walks around to the other side of the car, you read it over in your shaking hand.

You seem down today angel. If you wanna talk just find me or text me; i'm always here to listen. -lando

You feel your stomach lurch.

He even signed it with his name! The idiot!

And you weren't down! Just deep in thought! About Oscar, actually.

You let air escape from your lungs. You can feel the concern, the tenseness radiating off of Oscar as he drives, before, finally, he says, "Listen, I'm sorry for-"

"I know you read it. It's fine. It's nearly impossible not to. I would have, too."

"Angel?"

You bite your lip, looking out the window. "That's, just, uh, how Lando is..."

He regrips the steering wheel. "Y/n, you know me. If you lied on the phone, I won't be mad. I just want to know."

"I didn't lie, Osc. Lando was sitting right there when you called. I didn't lie."

"What... What were you doing?"

"Just hanging out. Just the same as what we're doing right now. You're both just my friends, okay?"

"Right," he says, but the sound barely escapes his lips, in only a whisper.

Soon, you reach the destination, and you're surprised to see it's your house. "Oscar...? Why'd you bring me home?"

"You'll see," he says with a soft smile. You both get out of the car, and he grabs some stuff from out of the trunk, before walking onto the lawn. You watch with your eyebrows scrunched together as he lays out a blanket. He sits down on it and pulls out a few little packets from his pocket.

"What's that?" you demand, still standing.

He takes your hand and gently tugs you down next to him. "Are you still a Tim Tam addict?"

You grin, holding your hand out to take a pack. "Thanks. And yes, I am."

"You're the most Aussie to ever Aussie."

"I could say the same thing about you."

Suddenly, he flops down on the blanket, laying down on his back, and you finally get the memo. "Stargazing?" you ask him carefully.

"If that's okay with you."

You grin, laying down next to him. "Why not?"

You lie there, side by side, staring up, and Oscar starts talking.

Listening to Lando is different. Lando is excited. Like he likes you so much and just wants to tell you everything. He talks a lot and makes you laugh a lot. Like, doubling over giggling kind of laughing.

Oscar makes little jokes, but just enough to make you softly chuckle. He doesn't go on and on. He pauses, as if he's thinking about what to say next. For you, that's a little awkward sometimes.

You feel awkward in silence.

But you like both of their ways of yapping.

After a while, Oscar is silent for longer than before, and you ask, "You asleep?"

He chuckles. "Of course not."

"Wouldn't put it past you," you tease.

"Fair enough..." he sighs softly, before, suddenly, you feel his warm hand brush yours. And in the dark, his fingers find yours, and he holds your hand in his.

You don't know what to feel. But surprisingly, it's something good.

His hand is smoother than Lando's, but smaller. His knuckles and veins are more defined, and his fingernails feel rougher than Lando's.

Here you are, just comparing the two.

Is that wrong?

But his hand is also radiantly warm, sending heat throughout your chilly body, causing goosebumps to appear on your arms.

You lick your lips, murmuring, "It's kind of cold. Can we go inside?"

There's a few seconds of silence from your friend next to you, before he says, "If the problem is that you're cold, I could fix that."

You look over in surprise, meeting his glimmering eyes, which appear to be merely black orbs in the darkness of the night. "How?" you venture.

Suddenly, he pulls you close to him, enveloping your body with his warm. You gasp a little, your heart rate immediately quickening. All the sudden, you don't feel so cold.

All the sudden, you get why you had a crush on Oscar for years.

All the sudden, the feelings come rushing back.

And in the light of the fact that you feel the exact same things with Lando, you have absolutely no idea what to think, feel, or do.

"So, are you, like, a bowling kind of guy?"

Lando shrugs. "I'm a you kind of guy, so any excuse I can think of to go somewhere with you, I will."

"Brutally honest, no?"

"Nothing's brutal about it," he grins, sipping from his cheap beer. He sets it down and stands up to have his go, before plopping back down on the couch next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

"Lan," you chuckle. "You know, when you're bowling with only two people, as you've decided to do, there's not much time for cuddling in between turns." You say it lightheartedly. You don't mean anything by it.

But Lando does, apparently, because he says, "Ah, you know neither of his care about bowling. I care about you."

"Is this when I'm supposed to say I care about you, too?"

"Yeah, well, pretty much."

You lean closer, resting your head on Lando's shoulder. "I care about you, too. You're a great friend."

"Ah. Yeah, you too." He runs his hands through your hair for a while, before finally prompting you to take your turn. He stands up with you, as he has every time you've gone. You deliver the ball, but take just a step too forward, and slip.

Ah, fuck.

But suddenly, Lando grabs your wrist and pulls you back up, so you stumble right into him. He steadies you, wrapping his arms around you, and says, "Careful, there, Y/n. You okay?"

You clear your throat, blushing as butterflies swarm your stomach. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Thanks."

He smirks. "No problem. That's what friends are for, eh?"

So, they both like me. And I like both of them. They're both so different in their own ways, but I like them both for different reasons.

And both likely expect the other likes me.

But regardless, they're both getting closer and closer to me. And I'm starting to

"Y/n-"

You slam your notebook shut, looking up to see Oscar. He's brought you on a few more...

Well, if you were to call a spade a spade, you'd say 'dates.'

But you just can't do that, because then you'd be saying you're dating two guys at once.

Neither of them have officially asked you out. Neither have ever even gotten close to calling you their partner.

So, that's how you convince yourself there's nothing wrong with it.

So they're not dates. You just don't know what to call them.

Either way, since the Tim Tam Stargazing Romantically Cuddling Under The Moonlight Night, Oscar has also taken you to dinner for his birthday and to a museum.

Oscar is different. He plans stuff out and then asks you if you're available. Lando asks if you're available first, and then just sort of-

Well, you never plan with Lando. You just do and go what and where you want that day.

It's different.

And yet again, you couldn't say which you like better.

"Y/n?" Oscar repeats, sounding more concerned now, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Oh- yeah, what?"

He sits down next to you. "I know you'll be busy, just like the rest of us, since Miami is coming up fast, but..."

You smile nervously. "Yeah...?"

"Want to come over to my flat tonight? Or something?"

You swallow a lump in your throat as the picture of Lando's text from earlier today appears in your head.

I'm feeling good for Miami. Want to come over to my place tonight?

You had said 'sure.' You knew sometime soon, plans would overlap, and...

And that time is now.

"Y/n? Are you okay?" Oscar asks, placing his hand on your shoulder. "You look pale."

"Just... uh... Lots of..." you clear your throat. "Lots of work to do before the Grand Prix. Just... you know, stressed. I don't think I'll be able to tonight. But thank you," you put on a weak smile.

Oscar's lips curl into a concerned, thin line, but he nods, taking his hand off your shoulder. "If you ever need someone to talk to, just remember- I'm right here."

Same exact words Lando says to me all the time.

"R- Right. Thank you, Osc."

He nods. "Of course."

As soon as he's gone, you text Lando, letting him know plans abruptly changed, and that you're busy tonight after all.

You end up being very busy laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, emotions swarming in your stomach as you come to the realization that you can't keep going on like this. Soon enough, you're going to either have to choose one and break the other's heart, or let go of both of them.

And for some reason, just that thought makes you start to cry.

The rush of adrenaline is enough to make you crazy. Enough to make someone do stupid things that they never, ever should.

But when Lando Norris, race winner Lando Norris, is there, in front of you, you scream his name. When he sees you, his whole face lights up, and he throws his arms around you, lifting you up. "Nice work!" You kiss him on the cheek.

He giggles. "Wouldn't have been able to do it without you and the whole team!"

"Ah, shut up and give yourself the credit for once."

He grins wider. "Yeah, I guess for once I do deserve it."

"Shut your face, loser- or, I guess, winner."

"No, you shut yours," he murmurs, and when he's sure no eyes or cameras are on you, pecks your lips, before pulling away and running off.

And you're left there, a dizzy mess of adrenaline and embarrassment.

Later, you're walking in McLaren, and suddenly, you hear Lando's voice, "Y/n, come here."

You look up to see him peeking out of his driver's room. "What?"

"Just come on. I've got something for you." He's looking at you like an excited little puppy.

You grin and shrug, walking in with him.

The door latches behind you.

"What have you got for me, Lan?" you ask, glancing around at his contained mess.

Suddenly, your back is against the wall, and Lando's face is merely inches away from yours. You gasp, staring at him, feeling his breath on your face. "This," he mutters softly, before his eyes flutter closed and his lips meet yours.

Excitement and guilt hit you at the same exact time.

But as Lando invites you, you lean into the kiss, and any thoughts of Oscar slowly leave you as you're consumed by the bliss of this intimate moment with Lando.

But when you finally pull away from each other, panting, you murmur, "We never, ever mention this again, okay, Lan?"

He just grins, his hand slowly caressing your cheek. "Of course. Friend."

You sigh shakily. "You supposed that was your little reward for winning your first race, huh? You already got a trophy."

"Ah, sure. But you're my real trophy."

Oh, Lando, and his so-called 'silver tongue.'

After literally just making out with Lando, it feels thoroughly terrible to pat Oscar's shoulder and tell him 'sorry' about P13. Yet you manage to keep composure, despite the heavy guilt, as you say, "It's just the luck of the draw sometimes, no? But there's always next race."

You want to break down crying. You want to say something, but at the same time, you don't.

You don't regret kissing Lando.

You like him.

You think you have a better chance with him than you do with Oscar.

But you like Oscar, too. And just doing that feels like...

A betrayal.

No matter how much you say you're just friends, when do labels stop counting?

Your head is absolutely spinning. You feel sick.

"Y/n, what's wrong?" Lando asks, surprised to see you sitting in the hallway outside the offices, back in McLaren HQ, hugging your knees to your chest, staring somewhat vacantly, at nothing whatsoever.

"Hm? Hi, Lando," you say tiredly.

He slips down the wall next to you and says gently, taking your hand. "You can tell me. You haven't been yourself lately."

You swallow but don't respond.

He squeezes your hand and whispers, "Was it the kiss? Y/n, I'm sorry... I didn't-"

"No, no... It's... nothing."

Lando sighs. "So I take it I won't be able to be getting you to talk, huh?"

"S'pose not..." you sigh. There's no way you're telling him. He's fifty percent of the problem.

And Oscar's the other fifty.

So he wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back softly. You automatically lean your head into his chest, and he presses his lips into your scalp, gently kissing your hair. "I'll be ready to listen whenever you're ready to talk. But if you never are, I'll be here for you anyw-"

"What the-"

Both of you look up in shock to see Oscar looking right back at you.

Oscar's teeth clench. He's usually, nearly always, such a calm person. But now he doesn't look angry. He just look deeply hurt.

You bite back a very sudden sob.

And out of his hurt, for once, Oscar Piastri doesn't think before he speaks, and the bitter words fly out of his mouth: "Alright then! Just lie to me! Just give me fucking false hope for no reason, Y/n! That's great! Thanks a lot! Thank you! Lando, why don't you keep comforting her? Clearly she'd like that much more than anything I have to offer."

And then he turns on his heel and walks away, down the hall.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Lando snaps indignantly. "The asshole!"

Oh, Lando. He doesn't know. Not one bit.

"You stay here," he suddenly says angrily. "I'm going after him."

"Lando..." you sigh, burying your face in your hands. "Please, no..."

"Y/n..." Lando looks at you, uncertain.

You sigh again. "Okay, whatever." It's not like it can get any worse, can it?

So then Lando's off, and you're left to drown in your complete and utter regret.

Lando jogs down the hall, and the moment he sees Oscar's back in front of him, walking away from him, he calls, "Oscar, wait up."

He spins on his heel to face the Brit. His jaw is tight, and his eyes tender. "What?" he breathes.

"What the hell, man? What's wrong?"

"I'm not blind, Lando," Oscar sighs, leaning his back against the wall, shutting his eyes, tilting his face up towards the ceiling.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lando demands, facing him.

"I know you two are dating. It's fine. I was kidding myself. Playing pretend, yeah? Just like me and Y/n used to always do. It's fine. You know I'm the type of guy to adjust. I always do. That's what I've learnt. So, I wish you two luck, but I ought to be off now." Oscar then leans off the wall to keep walking away.

But Lando grabs his shoulder. "What? I still don't get it?"

"It doesn't matter. Forget this ever happened." The Australian doesn't sound bitter or angry anymore. Disappointed and resigned, for sure, but also accepting. "It's for the best. Just go comfort your girlfriend. She needs it."

"She's not- I mean- we- I-" Lando trails off, at a complete loss for words.

Oscar stares ahead, not facing Lando. "Lando, I like you. Let's not make this dramatic. I'm sorry; I slipped. Should have kept it to myself. Like I have for years. Never should have said a word."

"I..." Lando begins, but stops. "Oscar, I..."

"You don't know what to say?" Oscar asks, suddenly looking over to Lando with an actual, genuine smile on his face, surprisingly enough. "That's okay. Probably means you shouldn't say anything. Maybe you talk too much sometimes anyway."

It's just meant to me a light, friendly tease, but in this situation, it doesn't seem right. Knots twist up in Lando's stomach, and Oscar's words don't feel like a joke at all.

Lando knows more needs to be said, but there's nothing more to say.

Then, suddenly, to his somewhat shock, Lando hears your voice behind him. "Oscar," you say, walking toward the McLaren driver. You swallow. Keeping composure.

Oscar looks at you expectantly, tentatively taking a step forward, almost involuntarily.

You suddenly throw your arms around him in a hug.

"Hey, Osc," you begin whispering. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what it might look like. But me and Lando are just friends, just like you and me are just friends. Like I said before- Lando is just like that. Besides, if you saw me sad, wouldn't you help me out in just the same way?"

"I... uh... O- Of course..."

"See? So there's nothing to be upset about. I wasn't lying to you."

Oscar's unsure eyes soften, and his eyebrows scrunch together. "I- Alright... Okay. Uhm."

"I forgive you, Oscar. It's okay," you smile gently, stroking his cheek.

You want to throw up.

Y/n. You lying, evil snake. Listen to yourself. So manipulative, and for what?

To save yourself.

To save Oscar.

But it is all selfish though, isn't it?

You're just trying to cover all your bases.

You take your hand away from Oscar's warm skin and say simply, "Lando- I think my problem earlier was just that I'm not feeling very well... Must have picked up some kind of virus... I... I should be getting home now."

And you run out, leaving the two McLaren boys standing there in the hallway, both absolutely speechless.

After quite an awkward week or so, the Imola GP comes around, and, like racing always does for you, the passion is too much to let any barriers soften your excitement.

You see Oscar first, who you congratulate with a high five. But he hugs you, saying, "How are you?"

"Huh?" you ask in surprise. "Great! Another super solid weekend for the team. P4 for you!"

"Hah, yeah," he smiles. "Well, I'm glad you're doing just as good as I am."

And later, wen you see Lando, your first comment is, "You could have won this one, too!"

"I know!" he laughs. "After knowing how it feels, P2 doesn't seem so glorious."

You click your tongue. "Don't worry, Lando. It'll come."

Well, in that following week, somehow, the two busy drivers both find times to ask you out.

As friends.

Lando tries to pry out of you what really happened that day with Oscar. You refuse to say it. Say it's personal, having to do with things from yours and Oscar's childhood.

More twisting the truth.

You're starting to hate how good you are at these disgusting games.

When you go to dinner with Oscar, it hurts your heart to see how trusting he seems. Even after it all, he thinks he's the one in the wrong. And he thinks all is well. That nothing wrong is happening. He asks you one more time if you're dating Lando.

You say no.

Because you're not.

Right?

And then, it seems, before someone can say 'I'm in love with two McLaren Formula 1 drivers,' you're walking into the Monaco paddock, the week flies by so fast.

You love Monaco. Doesn't everyone? It's one of the best Grand Prixs of the season in your opinion, if not the best. The atmosphere, the sea, the people- it's all just slightly different in Monaco.

Everything shines brighter in Monaco.

And, apparently, you do, too, because both Lando and Oscar are being particularly affectionate towards you this weekend. You can't tell if you like it, or if it's stressing you out. Likely both.

"So... Piastri-Leclerc, is it?" you ask Oscar with a chuckle.

"Yeah, that's right," Oscar says with a little chuckle.

Suddenly, one of your other coworkers nudges you and says teasingly, loud enough for Oscar to hear, "Ah, Y/n, that means you'll have to be Y/n Piastri-Leclerc when you marry him. What do you feel about that?"

Before you can say anything, Lando seems to materialize out of the depths of the McLaren garage to comment, "You know, Y/n Norris has got a lot better ring to it."

"The confidence!" your coworker laughs at Lando as Lando laughs genuinely and you and Oscar likely laugh more nervously than anything else.

That night, as you lay in the bed in your hotel room, you're having a sinking feeling, deep down in your chest, that soon enough, you'll have to choose.

You'll have to make a decision.

If you keep up this game any longer, one of you are going to get killed in the process.

You just have to be honest.

Who do you love more? Who would be better for you?

You've known Oscar longer. You connect with him better.

But you enjoy being with Lando more. You have more of the same interests.

Lando is always positive and confident. Oscar is always sensible and even-keeled, relaxed, and calm.

Lando's wild card or Oscar's solid rock?

They both care for and about you so, so much.

Oscar for all these years, was too scared to admit how he felt to you, and was only convinced to confess it when he saw how you and Lando were with each other.

So, essentially, jealousy was what convinced him to admit his feelings.

He hasn't even admitted it.

Lando has, many times. You've got Lando's number. He's straight with you. He's not scared to say it.

But at the same time... you've never believed in soulmates, but there's definitely something to the story of your life, and the way it always seemed to result in Oscar. He was always the one at the end of every tunnel.

You've known Oscar for a lifetime. You've known Lando for... what, two years?

You sigh deeply.

What the hell?

"P2, Oscar! P2! In Monaco!"

He's laughing as you throw your arms around him this time. Lando's there, patting him on the back. "Nice job, mate," he congratulates.

"Yeah, mate! Nice job is right!" you giggle.

Oscar leans away, beaming.

Then, as soon as Lando walks off, Oscar kisses your cheek gently, just letting his soft lips brush your cheek.

Your breath catches in your throat.

"Would it... would it be okay if I kissed you later? For real?"

You swallow. "We'll see about that."

But Oscar just smiles. "Will I have to wait until I win a race, too, to get a kiss out of you?"

You laugh, but a lump rises in your throat.

Why is he talking as if he knows?

"Y- Yeah," you breathe. "I reckon so."

He nods and leans away. "Well, happy birthday, Y/n! I've got something for you!" He's about to pull you by your hand, when suddenly, another hand grabs your other hand.

"Wanna see your birthday gift, Y/n?"

You look up to see Lando.

Literally, both of them, about to pull you separate directions.

Yeah, you think almost scornfully, That's right. You can each have a hand.

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coffe-and-tea-time · 2 days

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Lovesick! Patient x Reader.

Can't you stay longer? ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨♡

Yes, you can…ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨♡

Coffee speaking! This is planned as a unwilling to willing but this part is with a full unwilling reader and Tea is healthy again :D so y'all also are less likely to find weird things in the posts lol

Hello! Tea speaking! Since 7UP is already uploaded (we gotta find them names later), it's now turn for my favorite! (Pepsi is better than Coke and you can fight me on that)

tw: yandere behavior, threats, this place should have better security, kidnapping?, deaths of a random person, unwilling reader, written in you/yours

It was only a cold, you just need to go to the hospital to get the certificate and maybe some paracetamol and then leave, easy, isn't it?

As you walk through the hallways of the hospital, you turn left, having a hard time trying to find your way yourself in this big hospital. It seems like your sense of orientation failed this time, as you bump into a man who is dressed in one of those hospital gowns patients wear.

“I’m so sorry sir, I-”

When you were just about to explain your situation, the look of the man before your eyes makes you shut the fuck up really quickly, his blue eyes looking at you seem off but the toothy smile creeping out of his face makes it looks even scarier… oh dear, what have you stepped into?

“I can’t believe they let you in without somebody to guard you… I’m really happy, I can’t believe I found my darling in such an abrupt manner”

You don’t understand half of his words, but one thing is for sure, you have to run as far as you can from this lunatic, but an unexpectedly quick grip on your wrists and a forceful pull towards the room he came from makes it impossible to scape.

The room is the usual hospital room with stretcher for patients to sleep on and medical equipment, you wonder how it can be that there's no doctor or nurse in sight to ask to supervise their patients, but you don’t have a lot of time to meditate about how bad the personal of the hospital is as the man makes you sit on a chair that was close to one of the beds.

“Oh, you are so so precious, for the first time in my life I’m really grateful for my luck; I promise to take care of you, the nurses can bring anything you want from outside the hospital gates… We can always break out of this place”

He says such a terrifying thing in such a loving tone that it makes you doubt your own mind for a moment, he doesn't seem like he's gonna harm you as he kneels to wrap his arms around you in a tender and caring hug as you keep sitting.

You take the chance, since he is too focused on hugging you and murmuring sweetly, to take a peek around the room to see if there's anything you can use, it seems like a room that was used some days ago, your eye catches some broken things on the corner of the room, making you wonder what happened here, but you can't afford be lost in your thoughts here, it may end up badly if you make the wrong move, you don’t have that much of an option though since you don’t know how stable this man is.

So, you scream, you scream bloody murder until you almost go out of oxygen in your lungs.

what a useless attempt to seek for help

“Mm? Did something happen Darling? Why did you suddenly scream so loudly? Did you get hurt on any part of your body? Do you need something? Maybe you want some kisses to ease your mind?”

Is he dumb?

You can’t help but look at him dumbfounded as he holds your face reassuringly. Then, a nurse enters the room and you don't waste the opportunity and start talking to them in a quick peace due to the nervousness of what will come.

“Excuse me, I had an appointed but ended up kind of lost and then here in this weird situation, I probably should go head home already”

The nurse looks kind of confused by the situation, but the pity in their eyes is noticeable as they quickly get closer, eager to help.

“I’m so sorry about this, I’m new here so I don’t know much but for some reason there is a warning about not wandering around here more that necessary, you must have been in a panic to see that no workers come here”

You foolishly calm down by their gentle voice as they attempt to get closer with a sympathetic smile from the black haired man, which gets up to stand in front of you while facing the nurse, preventing them from getting close to you.

“You are not gonna take my darling anywhere, my dear just got a little scared for a moment, we don’t need you here to bother”

“Sir, you need to go to your room, this person is not an inpatient, they have no reason to be here, there’s no need to make a fuss about this, so now you need to move aside so I ca-”

You watch in shock as the man takes out a scalpel, the world seems to go into slow motion for a moment just to turn into high-speed a second later, you end up front seat to see how the man stabs the nurse’s neck and then quickly go for their chest, aiming for the heart, without blinking as his white clothes gets stained with red.

“Please forgive me Dear, it wasn’t my intention to show this kind of gruesome spectacle to your pretty eyes, let me guide you to my room, you can sleep there to forget all about this annoying insect, I can sing you a lullaby if that helps, I'm pleased to help”

He says as he gets closer to you again leaving the corpse behind him, lifting you up into his arms, not even seeming to be struggling with your weight, which took you by surprise as you grip him fearing you'll fall off, you don’t trust this man but you really don’t want to taste his patience or self proclaimed ‘love’ for you.

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

images from pinterest

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redsray · 17 hours

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Red Robin Au where after Battle for the Cowl, Jason (instead of donning that ridiculous pill helmet) goes back to visit Talia and blow off some steam with the LOA; it's an effective way to do so at first, as long as he keeps Ra's at arms length and has all the Bats away from him. Except is that Timothy fucking Drake working with Ra's al Ghul.

So now Jason's like oh my god are you kidding me why is Tim here working with Ra's of all people??? Last he checked, Dick was Batman now and Tim was part of that gaggle of Robins in Gotham. Not here, in Nanda Parbat.

Tim, fresh from a splenectomy: Jason?!

Jason: What the fuck are you doing here?

Tim: ??? I could ask you the same question??

Jason: No the fuck you couldn't?? I trained with Talia and now I'm back here for a bit, and I'm not the one missing an organ right now?! Why aren't you back with Dickbat in Gotham??

Tim: Well. Let's say I'm not Robin anymore

Jason: ... Not... Robin?

Tim, scowling: Dick gave it to Damian.

Jason: Dick is Batman for like a month and already gave the traffic light leggings to a mini assassin? Nice.

Tim: Ugh

Jason: And... this was enough reason to run away and get impaled by assassins in Iraq? While working with Ra's al Ghul?

Tim: Well, not really. I need to find Bruce, and Ra's is the only one who will help me. Even if he's a freak of nature.

Jason: Bruce... are we talkin' about another Bruce or did I miss a memo? Bruce is dead, Timbo.

Tim: He's not. He's trapped in the timestream and trying to get back. And don't- don't tell me I'm going insane with grief or in denial. Laugh all you want, then leave. I don't need this shit again.

Jason: Trapped in time? Damn motherfucker can't even stay dead?

Tim: ... You believe me?

Jason: Sure. Not the craziest shit we've seen. I have a feeling you wouldn't go as far as Ra's if you were actually going off nothing. (mumbling) stealing my schtick. What a bastard.

Tim, blinking: Wow. That... just wow. That was easy. Dick thought I was losing it with grief and so has everyone else.

Jason, shrugging: B is definitely stubborn enough to get lost in time instead of dying and, frankly, I know what being off yer rocker looks like, and this ain't it. I climbed out of my grave, for god's sake, is time shit really off the table? Wouldn't hurt t'look if the old man's still kickin'.

Tim: Uh-

Jason: First stop: away from Ra's, preferably. Talia's not bad, but Ra's is a whole other can of worms. Get up or I drag you.

#dc comics #batfam #batman #tim drake #jason todd #red robin #dc red robin #red hood #league of assassins #red robin comics #i just think that if i could take away jasons pill helmet era #and make him believe tim for the simple reasoning of #batman is too stubborn to die. ofc he has to steal my gimmick #mf.#cue red robin run except with jason's sassy commentary #jason: can i just shoot that guy #tim: no we're not killing anyone #jason: i thought your whole name change thing was bc u wanted to be more unhinged #tim: that is a gross misinterpretation of what i said #i love them lol #tim: ok i can get you a fake passport #jason: why #tim: ? to travel borders? youre not gonna travel as Jason Peter Todd #jason: why not #tim: well for one you're LEGALLY DEAD #jason: oh right. and u?#tim: alvin draper #jason: what #also ik tim wasnt in nanda parbat when he got spleen yoinked but shut up my au i do what i want

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jaeminify · 2 days

Text

behind closed doors — mark lee.

description ☆ short blurb/oneshot of mark cause... the brain rot goes crazy and i just wanted to write something quick but hot (i hope) happy readings!! im definitely working on more projects but just haven't gotten the time to get to them/continue them yet :)

warning(s) ☆ dom!mark, dirty talk, members outside of the room while you want to have quickie; nothing too major as it's a short blurb !!

not one of my best works as it's pretty rushed. feedback/reblogs are appreciated ♡

"Y/N wait, wait— shit, okay wait hold on please."

Mark can't seem to help himself think straight, especially not when you're on your knees in between his legs while he's sat at his desk, laptop switched on to finally do his work in peace. At least, that was his plan until he saw you laying in his bed.

"You don't want this?" You pout, tilting your head up to look at Mark, knowing you look incredibly deadly in his eyes that he can't say no.

You have on a simple tank top, it's silk, if that detail even mattered, which it did to Mark.

You were wearing the nightgown set Mark had bought for you last Christmas in hopes to be lucky enough to see you in it (he has, twice— now three times). It's become a lucky charm to both you and Mark, but maybe more for you because you know when to wear it so you can seduce Mark.

"Fuck..." Mark can't help but run his hand through your hair, pushing back your baby strands and almost gripping the rest of your hair strongly in a makeshift ponytail.

"How can I say no to you?" He says under his breath, spreading his legs wider apart when you start to crawl closer to him.

"We can't, baby." Mark says, trying to strongly deny your advances towards him even when his eyes have become hooded that it's enough to know that he was undressing you with his eyes.

"Why not?" You whine, tracing your hands up to where his crotch is, still confined in his jeans, evident that he had just came home and was eager to start his work.

"My roommates are outside, Y/N." Mark hisses. His actions contradict his words when you feel his hands push you closer to where he wants you, nearer to his cock no doubt.

"Know you want my cock but I don't want anyone to hear how loud you are when I fuck you."

"You wanna fuck me?" You stand on your knees, inching your lips closer to Mark's plumped ones as you rest your elbows comfortably on his thigh. You enjoy the way his hands play with the strap of your slip-on, almost going crazy when you feel his fingers trace your bare skin.

Mark leans forward to rest his forehead against yours, "After I'm done tasting you I'm gonna want to feel you sweet cheeks." Mark runs his finger under your chin, "I'm not gonna let you off so easy baby."

Suddenly Mark leans back in his chair and unzips his jeans, sitting there as if he ruled the world and held control over every single person at the tip of his fingers.

He notices the dazed look you give him, making him tilt his head as his tongue peaks out to lick at his bottom lip.

"Thought you wanted to suck me off?" He says dangerously low.

He smirks when you start to blush, a familiar pink tint on your cheeks that Mark has gotten used to seeing after months of seeing you.

He cups your jaw with his hand, one of his fingers slip into your mouth to play with your tongue.

"Let's finish what you started princess. I'm not letting you out of this room until our clothes are off and the sheets are wet."

#mark lee smut #mark lee oneshot #mark lee blurb #mark smut #nct dream smut #mark nct smut #mark imagines #nct dream imagines #mark lee imagines #mark lee scenarios #mark lee hard hours #mark hard hours

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egberts · 16 hours

Note

when you say you are checking mods for updates.. do you mean that you regularly go to the sites you downloaded mods from and check on them?? 😭 i just started downloading mods and cc for sims and i def haven’t been doing that. idk how to manage mods or have good file organization habits, but it seems like everyone online already knows what they’re doing 😢

oh yeah bud, you gotta bookmark those websites, especially if you are downloading more than just hair, clothes and furniture. lots of mods break all the time, mostly after updates. curseforge has the sims actual, legit mod manager now where if you download the mods through it you can update them through it too, but there are also a few homebrew managers out there that are amazing - one even has a companion phone app to swipe away cc you don't want anymore with ease! another essential tool is sims4studio which can batch fix any broken cc, for example in one update all cc beds broke but with s4s it was easy to click a few buttons and have every file combed through and fixed automatically by the program instead of me! there's another tool called "sims 4 tray importer" which is great for manual deletion too, just put everything you don't want on a single sim or lot and then delete it en masse. all of these things are super easy to find with some googling (especially now that I've pointed you in the right direction) and I'm pretty sure most of them have comprehensive tutorials by any random person on YouTube. as for organizing your cc folders, part of it is preference and part of it is for ease of finding and fixing things. there are also plenty of tips/tricks/tools/tutorials for this aspect of simming out there too.

#source: i love downloading cc #it's like free online shopping #sometimes i sit down to play sims and just download cc for hours instead

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theemissuniverse · 3 days

Text

“F IS FOR FLIRTING” BI-HAN X COMEDIC RELIEF FEM!READER

SUMMARY : Bi-Han is aware of your crush on him but decides to spar with you

A/N : not proof read. Just wanted to post something. Let me know what I should do next

Bi-Han absolutely could not wrap his head around the idea of you having a crush on him.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew you had a crush on him. The way you spoke to him, the things you said under your breath, your actions. They all pointed to you having feelings for him.

And he wasn’t happy about it one bit.

This time, you had baked him fresh chocolate chip cookies. You walked over to him where Kuai Liang and Tomas were.

“Hi, Bi-Han.”

Bi-Han didn’t look up to meet your eyes. He continued to put his wraps on his hands. “Hello, (Y/N).” He said with zero emotion.

“I baked some cookies for you.” You held out your hands for him to take the cookies.

“I don’t eat sweets.”

“Oh…”

Bi-Han heard someone clear his throat. He looked over and saw Kuai Liang motion for him to take them. He rolled his eyes slightly before taking the cookies away from you. “Fine. I’ll take them.”

You smiled at him. “I was wondering if you could help me and spar with me.”

Bi-Han sets the cookies aside and almost laughs at you. “I do not spar with female warriors.”

Before you could say something, Kuai Liang spoke. “But he does today.”

Bi-Han gave Kuai Liang a death stare before ultimately sighing and standing up straight. “Fine.” He walks over to the center a little and you follow him. He gets into his fighting stance. “Just don’t be surprised when-“

You didn’t even let him finish. You immediately kicked him in his stomach. He didn’t have the chance to block it. Then you spun around and kicked him in the face, causing him to fall to the ground.

Bi-Han fell to the ground and grunted a little. He was surprised. Even if you did take him by surprise, usually he would be able to block it with the second hit.

“Sorry.” You held out your hand to help him up.

Bi-Han stared at your hand for a moment before taking it. You helped him up. “How did you do that?”

You giggled slightly. “Do you think Liu Kang chose me as champion for show?”

Bi-Han squinted, irritated by your comment but got back into fighting stance. “I’m not going easy on you.”

“I definitely don’t want you too.”

Bi-Han went to hit you but you blocked it with ease. He went to kick at your legs but you grabbed his leg and threw him off of you.

He went to punch your gut and you blocked it. You spun around and slapped him across the face with your hand.

Bi-Han felt his face. For the first time he had ever fought a woman, the hit hurt.

He saw you smile so innocently. And he didn’t understand how he was starting to find you attractive.

From the way you could keep up with him and how cute you looked when you did it. He never even noticed how good you looked until now.

Bi-Han straightened himself up a little. The two of you were walking in circles, eyeing another.

“I’m beating you with no magic. How does it feel frosty?” You questioned him but it was all playful.

Bi-Han was still in amazement that not even your snarky comment irritated him. “Don’t get full of yourself.”

“Don’t be grumpy. Be better.”

Your confidence was even more attractive and he couldn’t help but notice how you carried yourself.

This entire time you had been vulnerable of your crush, not caring if he had reciprocated his feelings for you. You said and did everything with the utmost confidence and he found it incredibly sexy.

He was starting to see why his brother was pushing him to you.

The two of you stood facing eye to eye. You stared down at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.

You pointed behind him. “Hey! Look over there!”

Bi-Han gave you a look. “Do you really believe I’m falling for that?”

You shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

You went to hit him and Bi-Han blocked it. You tried to use your other hand to hit him but he grabbed onto your arm.

He kicked you in the stomach and you hissed in pain. He went to kick at you again but you dodged it.

Being off his guard, you kicked him in the back. He stumbled onto the ground. You tried to stomp on him but he moved quick.

He swept your feet which made you fall to the ground. He got on top of you and made his hand ice cold. “Concede?”

You laughed in his face. “Jokes on you but I’m into this.”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

Bi-Han pressed his hand on your stomach and you instantly felt cold. Your entire body was shaking. You couldn’t move as he had you pinned down.

He was waiting for your surrender but you didn’t let up. He tilted his head at you. Then placed his hand harder on you. Your skin was turning blue. “You know I only have one more setting before you freeze to death right?”

You hugged, shivering to your core. “Fine. I concede. Or whatever.”

When Bi-Han pulled away from you, you instantly felt the cold go away.

He stood up from the ground and held his hand for you to take. “Not bad.” He said. “But you couldn’t beat me.”

You shrugged at his statement. “Who said I planned to beat you?” You dusted yourself off. “And I did pretty good since you cheated and used your magic.”

Bi-Han laughed. “There are no rules to kombat.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved him off and went to walk away.

Bi-Han stopped you. He grabbed your arm and pulled you close to him. Maybe even too close for talking distance. It shocked you a little.

Then he said something even more shocking.

“Same time tomorrow?”

The question brought an instant smile to your face. You started to giggle and nod. Bi-Han tilted his head at you, questioningly. Were you this noticeable with your crush on previous men?

He let go of your arm. Then you did something that shocked him.

You gave him a kiss on the cheek which made his eyes widen. “See ya!” You waved over to Kuai Liang. “By Kuai!”

Kuai Liang waved back at you and watched you leave. When you were gone, he smirked over to Bi-Han.

Bi-Han noticed his facial expression and shook his head. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it though.”

Over the span of a couple of weeks, you and Bi-Han had grown closer. So close to the point he didn’t mind your longing stares or even you hugging him, and he did not let anyone hug him.

You were an excellent fighter. Bi-Han saw that and furthermore, respected you.

The two of you continued to up the stakes with every fight but it was this time that Bi-Han was unsure.

“We’re not doing this, (Y/N).”

You rolled your eyes at the Grandmasters overdramatize vision. “Come on.” You threw him the sword and he caught it. “First one to make the other one bleed, wins.”

Bi-Han watched as you held onto your sword. “This is not a good idea.”

“Aw. Worried you’ll be bleeding? I’ll go easy.”

“It is not me that is worried. I have never seen you train with a weapon, much less a sword.”

“You would be correct!” You confirmed. “I haven’t! But it’s good to practice now isn’t it? And I know you’ve been wanting to do this. Stab the only girl that annoys you. I get it! Come on! It will be fun!”

Something about what you said made his heart twitch. You weren’t annoying to him. At least not anymore and he didn’t want to hurt you. He had never wanted to hurt you at all.

You being hurt, especially by the hands of him didn’t sit right with him. “(Y/N)…”

You ignored him and started counting. “Three, two, one, go!”

Bi-Han ducked when you swung your sword at him. He sighed. There was no turning back now.

He jumped back when you swung again. To the left and to the right. He then crouched down to sweep your feet. Making you fall.

You groan at the impact. He shook his head at you. “You’re not fighting. You’re just swinging the sword.” He told you.

You got up quickly. “Isn’t that the whole point?”

“No. It is not. See. This is why-“ he couldn’t finish his sentence. You began to swing your sword again and he ducked.

You went to jab at his arm but he used his sword to block it and threw you away from him.

You spun around and took a jab at him gain but he blocked it with the sword once more. The two of you stood in that position. “You’re not even trying!” You tell him. “Don’t be a loser.”

He rolled his eyes at you. He kicked you in the stomach. Then took a jab at you.

This jab though actually got you.

You weren’t blocking and his sword stuck in your right arm. His eyes widened and he quickly pulled it out and threw it to the ground.

You started to fall on your knees but he caught you. “You won.” You said through out the pain.

Bi-Han ripped off a piece of his shirt before then tying it to your arm. “I told you this wasn’t a good idea.”

You’ve never seen Bi-Han so worried before but you could understand why. It was a minor wound. You would be fine.

The two of you were inside, where he resided at. He was constantly hovering over you. Making sure you were alright.

Just to get some peace of mind, you decided to take a shower.

His head was spinning. Bi-Han couldn’t understand it. How he was actually worried for you. That the feeling on his chest made his blood pressure go up. He couldn’t explain what he was actually feeling.

All he knew was that he felt guilt. And that did not happen so frequently.

He was the Grandmaster of his clan. How could he feel guilt for something so simple yet so important to him?

As he was consumed by his own thoughts, he heard the shower go off. Then he heard footsteps that came from the entrance to his room so he looked up.

When he did, he saw you. In nothing but a towel. You clutched the towel close to your body and he noticed that water dripped from your head and down to your legs.

You washed all the makeup that was on your face which made you look vulnerable. But Bi-Han thought you were beautiful.

That’s when it clicked for him. He almost sighed out in reality. Just wondering how the hell did he fall for you, Liu Kang’s champion. How he fell for you, the girl who didn’t take anything serious in her life while he took everything serious.

How did this happen?

“You got a shirt I can borrow?”

Bi-Han was surprised you didn’t notice his staring. He was making it pretty obvious that he was checking you out and in a manner that he didn’t care to be found out in.

He grabbed a shirt from his dresser and handed it to you. You took it, waving finger guns at him before walking out of the room.

Bi-Han could not understand how he fell in love with you of all people.

He shook his head and sat on the edge of the bed. “Liu Kang is going to be mad about the wound.”

“Since when did you care about what he thought?” You called out from the bathroom.

“I don’t…I’m just saying. You’re impulsive.”

You scoffed, coming back in the room with only the shirt he gave you and your underwear on. “And you’re not? You’re not exactly a world class thinker, frosty.”

Bi-Han rolled his eyes at the nickname. He stood up from the bed to take step towards you. “Better than you. I told you it was dangerous.”

“We fight in Mortal Kombat tournaments to Lee the realms at balance. Anything is dangerous.” You said.

“It’s one thing to do something dangerous because you’re supposed to. It’s another when you intentionally be reckless.”

At that comment, you couldn’t understand why Bi-Han was acting like this. He was the last person to worry about safety. “Are you okay? What’s going on with you? You’ve never cared this much about anything so minor before.”

Bi-Han sighed. He rested his hand on his forehead. He did not look at you. “Do not make me say it.”

It took you a minute to understand the situation. It was at that moment you smiled. You let out a gasp and pointed to him. “Oh my god! You have a crush on me?” You then straightened yourself out, boosting your ego. “I mean, I knew you would.”

Bi-Han could not take any more of your talking. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you towards him before kissing you.

Never would he think he’d feel this way about you.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 1 #mk #mk x reader #bi han mortal kombat #mk bi han #sub zero x reader #mk sub zero #liu kang #kuai liang

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