#and i think they would look at each other and see . and it would be a little cathartic

[ms-demeanor]

You posted about adhd and I was hoping to follow up to clarify something. I’ve explained to my partner a million times about how the borderline-hoarding mess of his space is very mentally draining to me, and he understands but we’ve both essentially accepted he won’t clean his mess because he can’t because of his adhd. You’re saying he’s actually being a shit head?

This isn't necessarily an issue of him being a shithead, but it also isn't a sustainable situation. It's not good for you and there's a level of clutter that's probably not good for him either.

Large bastard is a lot more clutter-y than I am. The solution we've come to is trying to keep our messes at least isolated from one another; he can have his messes and I can have mine, but he can have those messes in his spaces, not all over the place. Sometimes those messes migrate, and that's when it's important for him to make the effort to rein them in rather than trying and failing to make a daily effort to keep our entire shared space tidy.

I think when you say "we've both essentially accepted he won't clean his mess" what I'm hearing is resignation; you're not happy about this but you don't know what to do so you've thrown up your hands and he feels helpless and unsure of what to do to improve the situation. This is the kind of "it's fine" that isn't really fine.

I think it would be worthwhile for you to each separately think about the mess and talk about it together. Are there areas that YOU *need* to have not-messy? Both for utility and your mental health? Are there areas where you can tolerate more mess than otherwise? Are there areas that are going to be harder for him to keep the mess out of than others? Are there things he doesn't *know* about cleaning up the mess?

I'm obviously a big "communication communication communication" person so I'm going to recommend a lot of talking about stuff, which is probably going to mean a lot of thinking about and interrogating stuff. I'm going to say "talk to him about why the mess bothers you" which means you also have to really articulate to yourself why the mess bothers you (for instance I'm not actually *bothered* by a messy kitchen, but I know it's going to reflect badly on us - and me specifically b/c of presumed gender roles - if someone pops by and the kitchen is a disaster, AND a messy kitchen is going to be harder to use). Genuinely, sometimes knowing *why* something is a problem might make it easier for someone with ADHD to do something. And it's not that he doesn't care that it upsets you, it's just that "Oh if I don't wash my breakfast dishes Anon won't have clear counterspace to make lunch" might be stickier in his brain (and less hard to look at emotionally) than "this thing I forget to do upsets my partner so I should do it."

For the record, I think that people with ADHD should read up on Demand Avoidance and see if it might explain some of the issues that they have in their day-to-day life; I've seen some really unfortunate situations with friends where trying to do things that their partner needed became the subject of demand avoidance. *I* have experienced negative outcomes of demand avoidance. The solution to that, however, isn't to stop making attempts to do the thing OR to simply try harder to do as they're asked/told (which reinforces the demand), it's to work on setting up a situation where the partners' needs are not interpreted as a demand. This is fuck-off difficult and requires a lot of patience and care and many attempts to succeed and will be different for each person and relationship.

(Also for the record demand avoidance isn't *super* strongly linked to ADHD and it's not a definitive symptom; like Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, it is something that occurs in some number of people with ADHD and can be a useful lens through which to examine various behaviors; you don't need to have DA or RSD to have ADHD, and having DA or RSD also doesn't invalidate your diagnosis; they're symptoms. For me, DA often feels like "if I don't look at it, it can't get me" - If I ignore all the messages I've got they aren't real and don't have real consequences so I'll just ignore my texts. If I don't look at the vendor email about the order, the problem with the order isn't real and it won't get added to my task list. If I don't look at the requests in my inbox I can't let people down when I don't do them. It's a self-protective coping mechanism but it's *maladaptive* and I can't just ignore the vendor email or all my texts. I need to work on a way of doing the stuff that I'm avoiding in a way that makes it less stressful and doesn't hurt the people relying on me. That takes a lot of effort, personal insight, trial and error, and )

But before I dive into specifics I want to be really really clear about one thing: sometimes people are simply incompatible. Sometimes one person has such a low tolerance for "mess" and the other person has such a high threshold for "mess" that it can't be reconciled. It sucks that this can end up being a thing that people break up over, but it is MUCH better to acknowledge incompatibility as early as possible instead of spending years and years building resentment.

There used to be a great forum called MiL's Anonymous that I spent a lot of time on. It had a lot of people in a lot of difficult situations struggling to get by and hold their relationships together. The question that was used as a litmus test to approach each situation was simple: If you knew today that everything about living with this person would be the same in five years, would you stay?

Because you can't control your partner. You can't control the future. You can only control yourself and your proximity to situations that are harmful to you. If you knew, 100%, that things wouldn't get better in five years, would you be okay with staying in this relationship? If the answer is "no," then that's that. Don't worry about questions of whether or not your boyfriend is a shithead, start the process of ending the relationship because there's a good chance the situation is going to be exactly the same in five years.

If the answer is "yes," and you'd stay in the relationship regardless of whether or not things changed, then it's time to take actions to improve your life within the context of the relationship.

(No judgement on that yes or no, btw. If you would hate living like this for another five years, and you would feel like you'd wasted your time and hadn't done the things you wanted to with your life, get out. Bail. Go. It will be better for you and better for your partner if you split instead of spending half a decade building resentments and and problems that you'll have to spend another half a decade healing from.)

Also, a note: you describe your boyfriend's mess as borderline hoarding - is the issue *mess* or is the issue *clutter*? I have friends who are very tidy, but whose homes are very cluttered. They like things, they have many things, they keep many things around, but their houses are always clean and well-dusted and orderly, just with a tremendous amount of *stuff.* I am addressing all of this as though the issue is mess, not clutter. If your boyfriend's situation is clutter (the space is busy and packed with things but it is functional and clean) and your issue isn't with *mess* (things out of place, things not having a place, things that need to be cleaned up gathering in stacks, falling behind on regular chores like laundry and dishes and taking out the trash) then you definitely need to assess whether or not you are compatible.

For instance here's a room that is messy but not cluttered compared to a room that is cluttered but not messy:

That first room is a *mess* but it would be very easy to clean up in under an hour. The second room is fairly tidy, but would take significant effort to pare down and declutter. BOTH of these can be difficult to live with but the second one is not dangerous or threatening to anyone's health. (The second one is QUITE cluttered and if every room in a house looks like this it can be overwhelming to live with; this is actually harder to deal with in a relationship than the first one in a lot of ways. I don't have a lot of advice for what to do if your partner is a high degree of tidy-but-cluttered because I don't actually think it's a problem or wrong to have thousands of books or bins full of lego or a million kitchen appliances as long as you have the space and can keep it safe and well-maintained; this is a really significant compatibility issue)

Okay, all that out of the way, here's the hard work.

Talk about this shit

Talk to your partner and define "mess." Make sure you are on the same page about what you mean when you're talking about what a messy room looks like versus what a tidy room looks like. Gather reference pictures. DRAW reference pictures.

Explain not just that the mess upsets you, but *why* and *how* it upsets you. In this context don't think of it as your boyfriend's mess, think of it as an unpleasant roommate. Discuss this using "I-statements". "When I have to pick up laundry all over the apartment, I feel like a parent more than a partner." "When there are piles of miniatures all over the table, I feel like I don't have anywhere to do things I'm interested in." "When there are dishes in the sink, I feel frustrated because I have to clean before I can feed myself."

Discuss, frankly and openly, whether he knows how to clean. I'm not trying to make excuses for him here but a lot of people with ADHD have a lot of stress and avoidance around cleaning because they spent a lot of time getting yelled at for not knowing how to clean properly.

Discuss your needs, be firm about what you require but willing to compromise. You *need* some spaces to be clean, and some spaces may be harder for him to keep clean than others. It may be MUCH harder for him to keep a bedroom tidy than it is to keep a kitchen tidy; if you need a clean and empty bedroom with everything put away and he simply cannot do that, that is a compatibility issue. But perhaps you need *your* side of the bedroom to be very orderly and can tolerate a moderate level of mess and clutter on his side. Maybe you're really really bothered by a messy kitchen, but it doesn't bug you if the dining table is covered with projects and papers. Figure out something more workable than "his mess goes everywhere and i live with it because he's incapable of cleaning" because he probably is not incapable of cleaning and you deserve to have places in your home that are comfortable for you.

Reduce friction for cleaning

Sometimes the problem isn't cleaning, the problem is the many many steps before cleaning, or not knowing where something should go when you are done cleaning. One of the absolute best things I've done for myself for cleaning my space is getting a broom holder and mounting the broom to the wall. Sweeping is now essentially thoughtless. I don't have to find the broom or pull it out from a pile of fans or go scrounging around for a dustpan it's right there on the wall, frictionless. So here are some ways to reduce the barriers to cleaning:

Make sure you and your partner both know how to use your cleaning supplies and know where those supplies are. When I switched dishwasher soap I had to re-show Large Bastard where I was storing it and how it was used, because to him what happened was the dishwasher tabs just vanished one day and he didn't know what I was putting in the machine or the process I used. He sometimes puts tools away in places that I can't see (he's more than a foot taller than me) so sometimes I can't get started on a maintenance project until he shows me where he put the battery pack for the drill.

Consider making a how-to chart to or having him make a how-to chart to keep someplace accessible so he can reference it while cleaning. Goblin.Tools Magic ToDo is great for this. Basically a lot of the time people with ADHD have trouble knowing what to do from step to step even if they've done something before, so having a step by step guide can make it easier (I have notebooks full of step-by-step guides for everything from paying for my tuition to removing licenses for my customers to weeding my yard)

Remove obstacles; don't keep cleaning chemicals in the garage in a box that's behind a stack of parts, keep them in the room you'll be cleaning. Don't keep the cleaning supplies that you use to clean the bathroom in the kitchen. Sometimes this means buying two bottles of bleach solution and two scrubbers and two sets of cleaning gloves but having fewer steps (fetch the windex, fetch the paper towels, fetch the gloves) is often the key to getting things done (open under-sink cabinet and grab windex, gloves, and paper towels that are there instead of in the kitchen).

This sort of overlaps with the next category, which is:

Create Dump Zones

One thing that I've found that seems very different between people with ADHD cleaning and neurotypical people cleaning is that neurotypical people are good at getting to a point where the cleaning is "done." They have checked off their tasks and they have finished and it is over. There are *SOME* chores that are like this (taking out the trash is a binary state, the trash has been taken out or it has not) and some chores are perpetual (horrid cursed dishes) but I think with people with ADHD, some chores that are binary for neurotypicals are actually perpetual chores. For instance "clean off the counter" is not a one and done for me. "Clean off the counter" may involve a three day reorganization project. "Clean off the counter" does not mean "wipe down the tile and put dishes away" it means assessing whether or not I need to make vegetable stock and bleaching three tea containers and reconsidering whether or not the sharps container should live somewhere else and going through the mail and figuring out what needs to be responded to and taking out the recycling and on and on and on.

We have had company at the house for the last two weeks, so I asked large bastard to clean off the dining room table, which is largely a project zone for him. Cleaning off the dining room table meant putting away his meds (and since he's a transplant patient that involves a 30 gallon rubbermade tote), throwing away some trash, and totally reorganizing his workshop. It also incidentally involved picking up a table from facebook marketplace and moving my plants, which has now involved moving my former plant rack outside (moving buckets, finding and organizing planters and gardening tools) and taking the former table to the thrift store (not done yet) and cleaning the rug that was under the former table. So "either the table is clean, or it isn't" isn't really true for us.

HOWEVER "hang on we can't eat until the table is clear so let's drive to Pico Rivera to get that console table right now" isn't a workable plan, so you create dumpzones as areas of holding between the start and the finish of the chore.

A dump zone can be a laundry basket. It can be a craft bin. It can be a back room or under your bed. It is a place to put things that you are going to deal with later because if you deal with them now it is going to derail the thing you are actually trying to do, which is set the table for dinner.

Dump zones are vital to cleaning with ADHD and I recommend them for day-to-day cleaning as well. The day-to-day dump zones might be more for you than for your boyfriend. For instance, Large Bastard works with bullets and he sheds bullets all over the house. I used to get stressed when I found bullets when I was cleaning because are these work bullets? Are these recreational bullets? Are they in testing? Do they need to be pulled? Do they go in the workshop or the office or the garage or does he need these today so they have to stay on the counter? And the answer now is "that's not my problem naughty bullets go in the jar." Which is perfectly sensible because he gets to say "mystery yarn goes in the bin" and "art supplies go in the bucket."

I feel helpless when cleaning a lot of the time. I'm frustrated and lost and I don't know where stuff goes and everything I pick up spins off into three projects in my head and every step feels like a wall to scale. Dump zones help me with that when there's pressure or a reason for cleaning beyond day to day home maintenance. People are coming over? The bedroom is a dump zone, I'll deal with that later. I'm just cleaning up because I need to? Okay I can find a permanent home for this new dish soap.

AS A VERY IMPORTANT COROLLARY TO THIS:

Active projects do not go in dump zones while you or your partner are cleaning. This may mean designating a project sanctuary area like a corner of the table or one particular chair in your main room where a project can be placed so as not to be disturbed. (if my current crochet project ends up in the yarn bin, that may mean that I don't pick the project up for another three months, it lives on the windowsill behind the couch because that's where it'll get worked on)

Do not put things away for your partner, put them in the dump zone for your partner. Your partner has to be the one to put their own stuff away in a way that works for them. I tend to find that this naturally puts a limit on the time stuff sits in the dump zone, because eventually you'll go "hey where's my thing?" and will put stuff away. If that doesn't happen, it's still generally better to have stuff in a dump zone than all over the home.

Do not decide you know what things go together from your partner's stuff and try to "put like things together." The neurotypical urge to put like things together is the mindkiller(j/k). You do not know which things are "similar" in your partner's organization schema and attempting to organize things on your own is going to end up with all of the things "organized" being functionally lost forever from your partner's perspective. Large Bastard's mom would do this and it was infuriating, she'd say "oh I put all the electronics stuff in one box" and she would mean soldering irons, transistors, ham radios, HDMI cables, and cellphone chargers. We are *still* going through boxes of stuff that she "tidied up" when he was hospitalized in 2020 and 2021.

To prevent the need for quite so many dump zones over time, you can work on setting up landing zones and "homes" for projects and tools.

Landing Zones

Landing zones are places where things go when you come inside from doing various things. Sometimes your landing zone only needs to be a tray for your wallet and keys, sometimes your landing zone needs to be a place to take off muddy boots and put a trowel and gloves down before you shower.

To make an effective landing zone, consider what behaviors you're trying to minimize and whether the people using it are ACTUALLY going to use it. For instance I was tired of the corner of my hearth getting cluttered with random junk so I hung up some hooks and put a shelf and a basket there and it became a really effective landing zone for my bag and keys and the mail, but it was VERY ineffective for Large Bastard because it's by a door that isn't the primary door he uses to enter the house. As a result I always know where my keys and bag are but he has trouble finding his keys and wallet. He tends to enter the house through our bedroom and has an overloaded valet next to the door and that's usually where his wallet ends up. Mounting a shelf to the wall above the valet and putting a basket and a hook on it will be a better place for his stuff to land. It's not that he's not using the first zone because he doesn't know that it's there, or because he doesn't care about lost time when I'm searching for my car keys after he borrows them, he's not using it because it's not by the door he uses. That's all.

I have a landing space for when I come in for gardening that's different than the one when I come in from grocery shopping. I have a landing space for when I walk into the dining room instead of the kitchen when I get home.

Landing spaces prevent stuff from piling up all over the place because they are a limited functional space that should be used frequently. Mail ONLY goes in the landing zone. If you have mystery mail or if you're not sure it's safe to toss, you put it in the landing zone. You can't let the mail get piled up too high or you won't have a space for your keys. You can't let the change in your wallet tray get too deep or your wallet is going to slide off, etc., but you also don't just put change on the coffee table or your nightstand because the landing zone is right there.

Homes for items are just what they sound like. They're the place the item goes. It lives there. My meds live on my nightstand. You would not believe how poorly I did with taking my meds on my vacation because they weren't on my nightstand. A while back large bastard lost one of his sets of sorted meds and we tore the house up looking for them because he couldn't find them in his nightstand, which is where they live. *I* found them in his nightstand because I emptied out the entire top drawer (he had only looked on the top layer) and found them underneath a radio and a hammock. Even though they were *hidden* they were in their home, so they were findable. I recently needed ink for an art class. Art supplies live in a dresser by my desk. Ink lives in the art bin or the top left drawer. The ink was not in either of these places (it was on a cabinet in the dining room behind a teacup) so it took me weeks to find it.

Sometimes the reason that ADHD spaces are so messy is because objects have been assigned homes in places that are visible and if they get moved they get lost. This is a genuinely difficult problem that requires a lot of effort to solve and can involve a lot of trial and error for creating a tidy living space. For some people, open shelving and visible storage might be a good solution. For some people, assigning a VERY clear home and inculcating that location by habit is the only way to clean up a space. For some people one very cluttered corner to at least isolate the chaos does the trick (for me and large bastard open shelving doesn't work because anything in one place for too long becomes invisible; that means that I rely on assigning things homes and large bastard relies on having contained chaos and a general idea of where to search but what that DOES NOT mean is that he is clean or tidy. His spaces look like an explosion. But he can mostly find his stuff and do what he needs to do and as long as that's limited to specific places in shared spaces I can live with it; the dining room table can be a disaster, the kitchen cannot).

People organize things differently. It often takes a while for neurotypical adults to settle into an organizational style that works for them and ADHD adults may need to settle into a new system every few months for it to continue working. The cleanup and declutter is most likely going to be a permanent project that is always going to demand some level of attention from everyone in a shared space, but "my ADHD means I can't do it" is not really going to fly. Maybe his ADHD means that he can't keep his space tidy, but it doesn't mean you can't move stuff from shared spaces into dump zones or that he can't do stuff around the house.

If he's insisting that his ADHD means that he can't clean it is possible that he's not being a shithead, he just feels helpless and doesn't know where to start and has adopted the belief that he's a useless piece of shit who can't even keep a tidy space like a grownup because he's internalized a lot of shitty attitudes (hello, my internal monologue about keeping a clean house). But it's also possible that he's just being a shithead.

It's something that's worthwhile to investigate with him. If he's unwilling to make an attempt, then he's being a shithead.

It is also not your responsibility to rehabilitate another person. If he wants to clean and it's something he feels bad about and needs some help and support with the way that someone might need help or support for learning to use a mobility aid, that is fine but you don't have to be the one who gives him that support if it's detrimental to your health, and you don't have to be the one to teach him that stuff if it's not something you're capable of. And if he is NOT interested in working on making your shared living space more accessible for you, that is not your suitcase to unpack and you just have to ask yourself the question from the start: would I stay with this person if I knew the situation was never going to change?

IDK, I'm sure a lot of this reads like "anon you must take on the emotional labor of training your partner to be an adult" but it's really meant to be more of a way of assessing yourself and your relationship. If you created landing zones do you think he'd use them? Would he get angry if you assigned a laundry basket as a dump zone for his stuff while you tidy the living room? Is living with him long-term going to be comfortable for you if nothing changes? Do you have enough of a shared definition of "mess" that you're at least in the ballpark for what counts as a clean house?

anyway good luck, and a reminder to folks that I'm compiling a bunch of adhd resources and other information on my personal website, ms-demeanor.com. It's coming along slowly but it will eventually include stuff like ADHD cleaning tips and how to tackle a hoard, so maybe keep your eye on that space.

[hannieehaee]

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS

18+ / mdi

summary: being besties with two of the most popular idols in korea always came with a few rumors here and there, but what happened when one of your platonic besties suddenly started acting a little friendlier than usual? or worse, what happened when they both turned their affections to you?

content: idol!au, hybeidol!reader x idol!mingyu, hybeidol!reader x idol!jungkook, 97liner!reader, friends2lovers, not mingyu x jk (they just share u like all besties would<3), not that much plot, afab reader, smut, oral (f and m receiving), body worship, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 8.2k (10k+ including kofi/patreon exclusive drabble)

a/n: the teaser for this got way more attention than i was expecting lol i hope u guys enjoy the final product!!

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Do you think the company would get mad if we did a live together right now?", Jungkook pondered out loud as the three of you sat on different pieces of furniture around his large living room.

"Yeah."

"They didn't seem to mind when Jungkook and I did it that one time," disagreed Mingyu.

"Yeah, but I'm the girl. I'm the one who wakes up to new dating rumors every time we hang out publicly."

"Yeah, but people must know we're just friends by now, right? It's been years."

That much was true.

You weren't sure of the exact date, but your friendship with both boys predated the overall international success of Kpop as of recent years. When you had met both boys, they had barely battled their way through puberty – though you weren't faring any better at the time.

The media enjoyed making the three of you a subject, knowing that you were evidently the closest out of all members of the popular 97s friend group. Being the only girl integrant, it was common for people to have the misconception that you were romantically involved with either Mingyu or Jungkook, seeing as you were often spotted in public with them.

You'd gotten used to the rumors and hate that came attached to being their friend, now usually leaving those things in the back burner rather than letting them bother you. By now, the three of you were a bit more careless about being seen together. Being seniors in the industry, those things didn't matter much to you anymore, but being seen inside Jungkook's house would surely stir up the worst rumors to date, so going live with him was entirely out of the question.

It did bother you sometimes; the double standard. While Jungkook and Mingyu could even interact in public or mention each other freely, any time you did so you were met with hate from either fandom, sometimes even your own. It also made you worry about your future. Could you ever be in a relationship without facing the brunt of all the hate that would come your way? At 26 years of age, it was a frustrating reality to think about.

Jungkook got up at some point to go fetch some more bottles of soju. Apparently the seven bottles the three of you had drank collectively weren't enough for the large men you were drinking with.

While Jungkook was gone, Mingyu got up from his seat on the couch opposite to you and took a seat down next to you, invading your personal space like he usually did.

"Worrying your pretty little head about something?", asked Mingyu as he leaned over you, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

"It's nothing."

"C'mon, what's up?", his hand ran up and down your arm in a soothing manner.

Invading your space and being overly touchy usually meant that he was tipsy. But to be fair, you were a bit tipsy too.

"Do you ever think about dating?"

"Who? You?", he chuckled.

"No, dumbass. I mean in general."

He seemed to sober up a little at the mention of the subject, straightening up a bit as he sat sideways on the couch so he could look at you fully.

"What's got you thinking about that?"

"I don't know ... I'm 26 now. Isn't it time I started settling down? Have someone filling up the other half of the bed," you pondered, feeling a bit pathetic as you did so.

Mingyu let out a quiet sound of confusion, eyebrows furrowed and head leaning to the side in question.

"Isn't that what me and Jungkook are for?"

Not taking him seriously, you chuckled and took a swing of your almost empty bottle of soju.

"I'm serious, Mingyu. I mean a romantic relationship, where, you know, it's just us and we do couple things and we settle down and all that stuff."

"What can you do with some guy that you couldn't do with us?", he grabbed both your drinks and set them on the table.

Suddenly, his demeanor seemed a bit more serious, which confused you.

Where the hell was Jungkook with those drinks?

"I- Are you serious? Do you need me to tell you?"

"Yeah, I mean, why would you need to look for some guy if you have us?"

Oh. He was serious.

"Because we're friends?," you were beyond confused, "I can't go out with you romantically, or move in with you, or," you gulped, "or sleep with you."

"You can't?", he scoot closer to you.

"Mingyu ..."

"I just mean ... Why would you go after some loser when we can just take care of you?", his hand went back to touching you, though this time it ran up and down your thigh rather than your arm. That false semblance of innocence was gone, "You want someone to keep your bed warm? You don't even have to ask ... I'll do it- we'll do it."

Through his short speech, he got closer and closer, just as the air in the room got heavier. The atmosphere itself shifted dramatically, specially with Mingyu so close to you.

Mingyu was the touchiest man you'd ever known. Being his best friend, you had fallen victim to his touchy demeanor endless times, but never like this. Never while his eyes were hooded and heavy with some emotion you'd never seen in them before.

"Gyu, I-"

"Can I show you?", he rasped, eyes now on your lips.

"Y-you're drunk," you were sure that must've been it. The combination between drinking and talking about dating must've short circuited his brain.

"Just tipsy ... Tipsy enough to get the balls to tell you how much I want you ... but lucid enough to remember how many times I've thought about this."

The hands on your thighs moved to your waist, closing in on you, slowly pulling you toward him. By the end of it, you were halfway sitting on his lap.

"You've thought about this?"

Your nervous hands went to his shoulders for support, easily giving in to him.

"So many times. Jungkook too," he chuckled as he began burying his head in your neck, lips ghosting the sensitive skin.

Lacking any control of your body, you repositioned yourself to allow him better access to you, now fully on his lap as he sat sideways on the couch, arms wrapped fully around you and face buried in your neck.

"Gyu, I-"

"Yeah? Is this okay? Is it okay if I kiss your neck like this? This is what you wanted, right? Someone to take care of you?", he mumbled as he made his way to your ear with breathy kisses.

You were burning up, completely powerless to Mingyu. It was kind of embarrassing how easily you gave in to him. How you had been entirely unaware of his want for you until five minutes ago, yet you were now pliant in his hold, willing to listen to his senseless argument about him and Jungkook being good replacement for a relationship. You also had that to think about – the Jungkook aspect of it all.

The reminder of Jungkook's presence woke you up a bit, remembering that you were literally sitting on your best friend's lap while in your other best friend's living room.

With half a mind to let Mingyu do whatever he wanted to do with you, you powered your way through your decision to pull him away from your neck.

"Gyu, wait. Kook could get here any minute-"

"Don't stop on my account. Seemed like you were having fun without me."

Your head snapped to the door at the introduction of the raspy voice of your best friend, finding said friend leaning against the doorframe with a few drinks in one hand and a few ramen cups stacked on the other.

"Jungkook-"

"So, can someone catch me up?", he got closer, dropping off all the food he was carrying on the table and sitting next to you on the couch.

The position made it so that Jungkook was technically sitting behind you. Since you were on Mingyu's lap and sitting sideways on the couch, you were now being sandwiched by both boys. Jungkook still kept a small distance, making you have to turn around in Mingyu's hold to look at him.

While you probably embodied the image of a deer caught in headlights, Mingyu seemed completely relaxed, hands still comfortably on your waist.

"I was actually just catching Y/N up," said Mingyu, an overly cocky tone in his voice as his hands continued to feel up and down your waist.

"Oh? Without me?", chuckled Jungkook, leaning a bit closer.

"What the hell is happening?"

"How much did you tell her?", Jungkook ignored you, staring directly at Mingyu. His eyes would occasionally trail down to Mingyu's hands on your waist, a sour look overtaking his face.

It seemed like you had missed a few chapters in the friendship; there was some unspoken agreement between the two in which you were the main character. While it bothered you to think that they'd discussed you in private, the enigma of it all also excited you. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, or maybe it was the way in which Mingyu's entire demeanor had become possessive when you brought up dating. The reason didn't matter when you were already beginning to heat up.

"Just caught her up a little on the, uh, situation," said Mingyu with an unrecognizable glint in his eyes, "Did you know she was thinking about dating?", he asked Jungkook, ignoring your presence while still having his hands on you.

Mingyu's hand had made it under your shirt by now, feeling the warm skin of your back.

"Oh? Since when?", he finally turned to you, scooting up a tiny bit more.

Due to his new proximity, you turned your head around, facing Mingyu again. That proved to be a mistake, as Mingyu was even closer to you. Jungkook also took advantage of this, braving a few more inches in closeness and letting his face come closer to your neck. He pushed your hair aside for better access, simply breathing against you as he awaited your answer.

Responding was the hardest thing in the world. Your mind was simply not working at the moment, the situation being far too intimate for you to fully function. On one side you had the huge hunk of a man that was Mingyu, warm hands against the bare skin of your back all while you sat on his leg. On the other, you had the gorgeous embodiment of a boyfriend that was Jungkook, whose fingers were now slowly running up and down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake while he nosed at your neck.

You had your two gorgeous best friends giving you the best type of attention all while your brain fizzled with your tipsiness.

"Answer him, baby," murmured Gyu.

"I- I just," you sighed when Jungkook began leaving feather-light kisses on your neck, "just thought about maybe getting b-back in the market? To meet someone and-"

"But you have us?", Jungkook sounded genuinely confused, seemingly unable to understand the platonic nature behind your friendship.

"That's what I said!", added Mingyu.

"But I want a boyfriend, n-not-"

"Boyfriend? Baby ...", Jungkook disconnected from you, grabbing your head to make you twist your neck in order to look at him, "That's just an upgrade. You want a boyfriend? We'll give you two. You don't need to be looking around for some loser," his eyes gradually lowered to your lips as he spoke, breath heavy against them.

"K-Kook, I-"

"Please say yes? Please just ... Let me show you? We can show you together. Right, Gyu?", he murmured, mere inches away from your mouth.

Before you knew it, you were nodding, far too desperate to voice your desire.

As embarrassing as it was to admit, you had thought of kissing Jungkook before. Being one of the prettiest boys you'd ever seen before, it was hard at first to keep your relationship with him fully platonic, having had to beat down a small crush you had developed on him at an earlier age. His kiss, however, was not something you could've ever predicted.

Even with the awkward angle, and Mingyu's hands still on you, Jungkook gave you the dizziest of kisses. He knew how to get you hooked immediately, starting with a heavy kiss that had you chasing him the moment he pulled away. With a quiet and breathy laugh, he kissed you again, languid and wet in the way his tongue snuck between your lips, seamlessly making its way into your mouth to play with yours.

Shamelessly, you moaned against his lips, hands digging into Mingyu's shoulders as he continued to hold you. The slight awkwardness of making out with Jungkook while giving your back to Mingyu, yet still holding onto him, was present in your mind. However, Jungkook's sensual yet playful way of kissing you took up most of your attention.

But you knew Mingyu to be a whiny mess of a man at times, so you knew it wouldn't be long before he attempted to regain your attention. The evidence was in the way he felt you up all throughout, hands on your breasts as he pinched at your nipples through your shirt, groaning at the feeling of your tits in his hands. Occasionally, his hands would go down to your cunt, ghosting the place where you needed the most attention before making their way back up to your chest.

Pulling you away by the waist, you were forced to separate from Jungkook, eyes still closed as your lips chased his own. This time Jungkook's lips also attempted to regain possession over yours, with his tongue catching a few last nasty licks of your own.

"It's my turn," grumbled Mingyu, making you turn back to him, "You're on my lap but kiss him only? Baby, we're supposed to share you!", he pouted.

Giggling, you got even closer to him, cradling his head in your hands as you lightly pulled at his hair.

You turned to Jungkook one quick last time, "Kookie?"

His eyes lit up at your question, giving you a view of his round eyes as he gave you his full attention.

"Scoot closer, yeah? Put your hands around me," you encouraged him, humming in contentment when he went above and beyond and began to kiss your neck in the process.

Turning back to Mingyu, there was still an ever-so-present pout on his features, making you giggle again before finally kissing his lips.

Now, Mingyu's kiss was completely different from that of Jungkook's.

You had known Mingyu for as much time as you had Jungkook. He had a bit of a reputation when you had first met, being known as a guy who would occasionally sleep around with other idols, and sometimes staff. Now at 26, he had been retired from that era of his life for a while, but you'd be lying if you didn't say he always made you wonder. He always had all the girls swooning, instantly falling in love with his outgoing persona and his incomparable charisma. His looks also did not help matters. Being so handsome and likable, you occasionally fell victim to his charms, sometimes needing to snap yourself out of R rated thoughts you'd have about him on nights you were feeling particularly lonely.

His kiss felt exactly the way he looked. It was rich and insanely hot. Mingyu made love to your mouth, using his tongue in ways you didn't know a man could. He was domineering in the way he kissed you, with a firm hand on your jaw so he could position you in a way that allowed him to kiss you just the way he liked. And he liked it nasty. He liked it wet and filthy and in a way that made you sure you'd cum if he kissed you for a little too long.

You could barely catch up to the situation, having one gorgeous man fucking your mouth with his tongue while the other suckled at the most sensitive spots of your neck. In the meantime, your cunt was gushing with essence, already so extremely wet you were beginning to squirm in Mingyu's hold.

You attempted to pull away once, only to be enticed into kissing Mingyu again as he groaned against you, tongue seducing yours once more. You attempted to pull away twice, having his arms wrap tighter around you. The third time is when you finally succeeded, whining against Mingyu's mouth that you needed more. This caused yet another groan to come out of Mingyu, only to be echoed by Jungkook's own groan against your neck.

They both disconnected from you, looking to each other in a decisive manner, almost as if to formulate a game plan.

"I want her first," said Jungkook, slapping Mingyu's hands away from you and attempting to move you onto his lap.

Mingyu stopped him, holding you tighter against him as he rebutted, "You? She's already on my lap. I should have her first."

"Dude, I'm about to blow up. Just let me fuck her and then you can have her while I recover," be argued, hands fighting Mingyu's off of you.

"Why can't I choose?", you butt in, annoyed.

Their demeanors swiftly changed at your interruption, both pairs of hands now touching either your waist or thighs in an intimate yet caring manner.

"What do you want, pretty? My cock? Hmm?", asked Mingyu with a sweet voice in an attempt to convince you. Meanwhile, Jungkook wordlessly kissed at your neck again, nibbling at your ear and smirking at how you shuddered at the feeling.

"I-", you were already lightheaded again, "I wanna suck your dick, Gyu. Want Kookie to fuck me while I suck your dick," you murmured, hand holding Jungkook's head against your neck to keep his kisses coming.

Mingyu groaned at this, nodding absentmindedly. He began to shift, attempting to get up in order to get himself ready for you, but you stopped him.

"Undress me? Both of you?", you asked in the softest voice you could muster. You wanted both their hands on you at once, feeling your nude body for the first time. You knew their desire for you was already clouding their minds, so you wanted to do everything in your power to relish in every single touch, every look filled with lust they would give you.

Without another word, both boys got up, standing you up with them. Their hands were messy and uncoordinated as they got every garment off you, feeling you up in the process. Your breasts were groped and fondled multiple times in the process, while Jungkook pressed your ass up against him any chance he could, groaning at the slight stimulation.

Finally undressed, you decided to turn around once more, facing Jungkook as you kissed him with no warning. You smirked into his mouth when you felt Mingyu grab you from behind and press your ass up against him, grinding slowly against you. You knew it wasn't enough to get him anywhere, but you enjoyed knowing he was needy enough to use you in such a fruitless way just for a little stimulation.

Meanwhile, your hands went straight to Jungkook's oversized top, hands sneaking underneath to feel up his muscular form, hands harshly rubbing on his strong chest. It seemed Jungkook was overly sensitive to your touch. He whined needy breaths into your mouth as you felt him up. Taking off his shirt, you moaned as you saw the gorgeous figure of your best friend.

God, he was the prettiest thing you'd ever seen. You couldn't wait until you saw the rest of his pretty body, sculpted by the endless hours of work you knew he always put into the gym. The endless hours in which you had accompanied him to said gym, always having to look away before you started to have inpure thoughts of your best friend.

He helped you in the removing of his pants and boxers, throwing his head back when your hands immediately went to find his cock and play with it. Burying his head in your neck, he groaned against your skin, whining at the feeling of your hands finally wrapped around him after having wanted you for so long.

Behind you, you heard shuffling, assuming Mingyu to have been removing his own clothes as he waited for his turn of your attention to come. You felt badly at leaving him hanging for too long, knowing him to have an overly impatient disposition when he didn't receive attention for extended periods of time.

Playing with Jungkook's cock just for a little longer, you gave him one last kiss before turning around and trapping Mingyu in his own kiss. Unlike with Jungkook, you didn't linger long, opting instead to push him down the large conversation pit – thank god for Jungkook's insanely big mansion – located just a few steps away from the couch where it had all begun. This way you could have all the space you wanted to play with your friends.

Now lying down, Mingyu looked you up and down like you were his next prey, licking his lips at the sight and motioning at you to come sit on him despite knowing that you wanted something else.

"C'mon, baby. Ditch him. Don't you want me instead?," he leaned upwards to try and convince you of sitting on him.

It was hard to deny him with his cock staring up at you in such a challenging manner. He was equally as gorgeous as your other bestie, but in so many different ways. Mingyu was so big and thick and buff, he had you salivating at the mere sight of him. He was so toned yet so thick, and his dick matched perfectly. God, the thought of that monster inside you had your eyes rolling back already. Did he really mean it when he said he'd be yours? That he and Jungkook would share you? The idea of a boyfriend sounded stupid in retrospect.

Despite all your better judgment telling you to jump Mingyu and let him impale you with his cock right then and there, you knew that starting off with Jungkook would give you a better buildup. You also knew that based on Jungkook's competitive personality, he'd become even whinier than Mingyu if you didn't let him take care of you first.

Fully determined, you turned back to Jungkook, who had been standing there in a trance, now having a better view of your body and keeping his eyes religiously glued to it. You grabbed onto him and walked yourself back to the large conversation pit, eyes glued to Jungkook's in a seductive manner as you guided him to the area in which Mingyu was already lying down. In only a few seconds, you let go of Jungkook and positioned yourself in front of Mingyu at an eye level with his cock while he sat up and looked down at you with a pained look in his eyes. In all fours, your back faced Jungkook, hinting at him to get behind you so that you could finally get back to business.

With a groan, Jungkook knelt behind you, needy hands feeling the curve of your back as he pushed you up against him. In the meantime, you began softly playing with Mingyu's cock, making him throw his head back at finally receiving some attention where he'd been craving it for so long.

"You're so pretty, fuck ... No one deserves you, baby. Too fucking pretty n perfect n fuck ... Can I fuck you now, pretty? Hmm? Let me have this pretty pussy while you suck off your bestie," rambled Jungkook from behind you, head lowered so he could kiss at your hips.

You whined and pushed up your ass against him, giving him the green light to do whatever he wanted, when suddenly he stopped.

"Fuck, wait. Condom?", he asked, making Mingyu groan, as you were about to engulf him in your mouth but also halted your movements to tend to Jungkook's question.

"It's okay, Kookie. The company put me on some new birth control. You can fuck me raw," you smirked up at Mingyu, giggling at yet another groan of his.

"He gets you raw? Baby, I'm the one who started all this! How's that fair?", he huffed.

Taking a quick separation from Jungkook, you gestured for Mingyu to lean down so he could meet you halfway. With a wet kiss, you made your way to his ear and whispered against it.

"I'm saving you for last, baby. Gonna ride you til I cry ... Now be good and cum in my mouth?"

He groaned so loudly his entire body vibrated under you as you crawled your way back to your previous position. Jungkook simply laughed at the interaction.

Feeling you up once more, Jungkook finally grabbed onto his cock and lined himself up, groaning at the gushing wetness that coated his cock as he entered you. Your own moan was masked by Mingyu's cock, which you were currently working into your mouth.

"Oh, fuck ... It's so tight, baby ... It's so fuckin' warm n tight n so pretty, baby. Such a pretty cunt," babbled Jungkook, immediately pussydrunk.

Could he be blamed? He had wanted you for years. From the moment he met you, he cursed at himself for being so damn shy and initiating a friendship with you rather than showing you his interest. His members constantly teased him over it, even so many years into his crush. When he first found out Mingyu also had similar ideas in mind, he felt conflicted. But he ultimately grew close enough to the two of you to the point where he wouldn't mind sharing you with his bestest of friends.

Your muffled moans completely took him out of it, taking away any ability to think or speak. He simply chased after you with his hips, canting them against your own as you pushed back against him.

"Is it good, pretty? Like my cock?" he winced at the way you tightened any time he'd speak to you.

"So good, Kookie. So big ...," you pulled away from Mingyu to breathe before going back to licking and sucking at his tip, moaning against him as his eyes rolled back.

You were practically centipede in Jungkook's living room, with Mingyu lying on his back as you gagged on his cock and Jungkook pounding into you from behind. All your senses were overtaken by the mindless quest for pleasure you had all taken on.

"You're so good with your mouth, pretty ... Fuck, look so pretty stuffed of cock," Mingyu gasped, throwing his head back, "Like how he fucks you, baby? Just wait til I get to you ... Gonna stuff that pretty pussy so good ..."

You moaned against his cock, already thirsty for him even as Jungkook continued to ram into you. Pushing your ass back against him, you felt Jungkook's nails dig into the skin of your hips, adoring how malleable you were for him.

"Baby ... 'm gonna cum soon ... Feels so fucking good, pretty. You're so fucking g-good for me. Wanted you so fuckin' bad, you have no idea ..." murmured Jungkook as he entered his high, hips lacking any control in their movements.

Jungkook had always been the most sensible of the bunch, never holding back from expressing how strongly he felt for the people in his life. The pleasure must've been so much that it made him unfiltered in revealing the undeniable effect you had on him.

"W-where do I cum? Fuck, gonna fucking cum, it's so good, baby. Take it so good for me, shit ..."

You were too busy gagging on cock to respond right away, so you had to take a minute to pull away and catch your breath, replacing your mouth with your hand while also holding yourself up with the other one.

"Inside? Cum inside, Kookie. I'll- I'll cum too," you were breathless, barely able to get the words out as a petulant Mingyu whined at you to help him finish, hands going behind your head and lightly encouraging you to get your mouth back on him.

"Inside? Fuck, okay, baby. Gonna fill you up, yeah?", he groaned, muttering to himself right afterwards, "Fucking finally ..."

His hips sped up drastically as his high approached, making you choke around Mingyu not just due to his girth, but due to the intense ramming against your ass. Though harsh and with an unmatchable energy, you continued to try and push your hips back toward his own, wanting to milk him dry as your own high invaded your senses.

His desperation for you made you feel so incredibly good, like you were the prettiest girl to ever exist. It made you arch your back a little deeper, take a little more of Gyu's cock, dig your nails a little harsher into the cushion of the conversation pit. You heightened all your actions just to feel him a little more.

And then it reached its crescendo. All while Jungkook whimpered and cried at how sensitive he felt at your tightening walls, Mingyu also found his own high. You were too distracted with your own orgasm to acknowledge him asking you for permission to cum in your mouth, instead suctioning more intensely to wordlessly give him an enthusiastic yes, please fill up my mouth with your cum.

By the time Mingyu filled up your mouth, Jungkook had already finished his high, now kneeling behind you as he peppered kisses all over your back and hips, whispering against you how good you had been for him and how pretty you looked with his cum leaking out of you. Fully drunk on the aftermath of his high, Jungkook loved on you like any lover would.

In the meantime, you attempted to swallow every bit of Mingyu's essence, moaning against his cock afterwards as you licked at every lone drop that made it out of your mouth.

By the end of it, you were all completely spent. Each of you dropped one by one, with Jungkook lying on his back as he caught his breath, you falling onto Mingyu, and Mingyu attempting to pull you up to climb his body so that he could kiss you again.

With the very little energy you had regained, you crawled up Mingyu's body, making out with him as he attempted to lick his way into your mouth in order to taste himself in your mouth. Kissing evolved into feeling each other up, which then became grinding your now sensitive pelvises against each other. Surprisingly, Mingyu was still half-hard, which gave you the perfect surface to grind your cunt into. He sat up, making you sit up with him before beginning to leave kisses on the side of your neck.

"Baby? Gonna ride me like you said, right? Just .. Fuck, want that pretty pussy, baby. It's my turn to have that tiny little cunt wrapped around me, yeah?", he murmured between kisses.

You gave in to him easily, gasping at every word that accompanied every kiss.

Nodding mindlessly, you almost forgot to think back to Jungkook, who was probably still recovering from his orgasm.

"W-what about Kookie?," you mumbled when Mingyu began positioning you above his cock.

"Don't worry about me, pretty. Just enjoying the view", you turned back to see Jungkook lying back on his elbows, one hand on his semi-flacid cock as he began to work himself up at the sight of you sitting on your best friend.

Well, that worked well enough for you.

"Now pay attention to me, princess. Been ignoring me all day today," Mingyu grabbed onto your chin to make you look at him, thumb softly rubbing at your chin as he tilted your head back.

You were insanely wet by now, not only from your orgasm but also from just Mingyu's mere presence. Knowing how intense and touchy Mingyu always was in PG scenarios, you couldn't help your eyes rolling back at the thought of him between the sheets. His heavy cock on your tongue had been enough of a taste to know how good it'd feel when finally inside you.

His strong hands lifted you up a bit, rescuing his dick from under you as he helped you position it under you, holding tightly onto your hips when you began to lower yourself down. You would've moaned and whined at the immense stretch, but Mingyu had different plans for your mouth. His thick fingers slipped into your mouth, making you gag a bit before you began sucking on them.

Too many things were on your mind, with all your senses being invaded by Mingyu – though also accompanied by Jungkook's low moans of pleasure behind you. Even as your body was bouncing against Mingyu's, attempting to match his thrusts, your head was completely empty of any thought. All you could think about was Mingyu, and his cock, and his fingers, and his pretty body, and and and-

"Feel good, princess? Love my cock, hmm? Tell me how much you like my cock, angel," he groaned as he took his fingers out of your mouth, using the wet fingertips to tweak at your nipple as his mouth engulfed the opposite one.

"So much ... It's so big. Fuck, Gyu, you're s-so big ..."

Barely able to formulate words, you cried as Mingyu helped you bounce on him, occasionally opting to grind in a way that made your clit get the perfect stimulation. It all felt too good. Mingyu's gigantic hands on your body while his lips suckled on your tits as Jungkook groaned so prettily behind you. You were far too sensitive and alert to hold back from the life-altering orgasm that was to come. So, you voiced this concern to Mingyu.

His response came in the form of flipping you around and trapping you underneath him. His big hands held onto your waist, lifting you a bit so he could angle himself just right. Eyes rolling back and nails digging onto the bed, you lost yourself in him. Jungkook seemed to be completely lost to pleasure also. You could finally see him after Mingyu flipped you over, and fuck ... He looked so desperate, so depraved in the way he hammered into his cock, mouth permanently agape as he let out little praises to you.

"I need you to cum for me, okay, princess? Show Jungkook how good I make you feel. Need you to milk me dry, yeah? Can you do that for me?", he dumbly talked down at you with a tone that could only be seen as patronizing in any other context. But here, you loved it. You loved how dumbly he treated you. Because it was true. You could not think, you could not speak. Your senses were all gone and replaced by a constant stream of cock cock cock as Mingyu finally made you reach your orgasm.

Mingyu played with you through the entirety of your orgasm, rubbing at your clit with one hand while holding you with the other, his lips constantly attached to your tits.

"G-gyu, I- fuck! C-cumming! Please, I-" you had no idea what you were begging for as your orgasm completely took over, making you tighten around Mingyu as he mumbled into your chest, letting you know of his own impending high.

Despite having already had an equally fulfilling orgasm, this second one brought out a new sensitivity in you. Falling under Mingyu, you whimpered at the way he flipped you over again to lay on his chest, caressing your back and pressed you up against him, even more when Jungkook laid beside you and softly ran his hands through your hair.

The three of you laid there together, with you halfway laying on Mingyu while Jungkook laid on the opposite side of you, cuddling into you. Behind you, you could feel Jungkook's flacid member, meaning he had also reached a second high along with you and Mingyu. Lying there together, completely sober now, you eventually let sleep take over you, nuzzling into both boys in a satisfied manner.

A few days passed by since your encounter with the 97s. They were pretty eventful as far as your job went, attending a few photoshoots and practicing constantly for whatever new activity was coming up for your group. However, things between you and your friends had remained stagnant. You didn't think they had ghosted you or anything like that, but the timing of your busy schedules picking up right after breaking your platonic relationship did make you anxious.

When you'd woken up that next day, Mingyu was gone, having left one of the packs of ramen cooked and ready for you with a note attached detailing how much he enjoyed last night, saying he had wanted to stay and say goodbye but had a a schedule that had been calling for him. It was signed with his name and a little heart.

Jungkook had been half-awake already, having carried you to his bed when he had woken up, right after Mingyu's departure. You had wanted to talk about last night, but also had a schedule over at the company, so you left after cuddling with a sleepy Jungkook for a short while, not really discussing anything, yet sharing a sweet kiss as a goodbye for the day.

And so you hadn't really seen them since then. It was the unfortunate reality of idol life. That night had been the first in a few weeks in which you'd even been able to see each other. You were unsure when the next one would come, but you needed it to be soon. The remembrance of that night kept messing with your head, especially any time you'd see either of your friends in passing at the Hybe building, never being free long enough for a worthy interaction.

On the fourth night since the incident, you finally had more time off for yourself, hoping maybe they did too. Mingyu got ahead of you in that aspect, texting you the previous night, somehow aware of your time off, and asking you over. There was no deeper interpretation to be had in his message, as it was pretty straightforward. Nervous as to whether to expect a repeat of last time or a conversation about it, you let him know you'd be there.

Jungkook and Mingyu had always been closer to each other than to you. Going out together was always easier for them since no scandalous rumors would arise from it. They were also often in the same friend groups, knowing more male idols than you did due to the nature of the industry. It was easy for you to assume that they had already spoken about what had happened, even before it happened. Throughout the night, they kept referencing some type of agreement they'd had regarding you and dating. It was hard to assume, but you wondered if they meant sharing you – as strange as it sounded.

Your questions would only be answered tonight, leading you to some anxiety before finally arriving to Mingyu's.

~

"I missed you," were Mingyu's first words when he welcomed you, trapping you in a warm hug as he usually did. Hugging Mingyu was, in your opinion, one of your life's greatest privileges. He was so big and strong, it always felt like being completely engulfed in the safest of spaces.

His hug was followed by one of Jungkook's, less tight in nature but just as rewarding. He held onto your waist and nuzzled against you, always attempting to bury himself in whoever he held in his arms.

Quietly, they guided you to Mingyu's living room, slightly smaller than Jungkook's but still very much reminiscent of a millionaire's home.

You looked over to the coffee table, tilting your head in confusion at the presence of cans of diet soda rather than the usual alcohol Mingyu would always provide. Sensing your confusion, Mingyu chuckled.

"No alcohol today. Thought you might wanna talk about what happened," he sat down on the couch, patting the empty space next to him so you'd join him. Behind to you, Jungkook joined, sitting on a lone seat facing you and Mingyu. No matter where you looked, the two boys would be in front of you.

"We've been keeping you in the dark, huh?," pondered Jungkook, handing you a freshly opened can of soda, "Sorry about that. No easy way to tell your best friend you're into her."

Oh. He was going straight to the point.

"I like you, if that wasn't clear already," he let out a breathless chuckle, attempting to hold eye contact but failing.

He was much better at this when he was working his way into your pants.

"And so do I," interrupted Mingyu.

Wait.

"Are you-"

"We both like you."

"I- Have you talked about this?"

"Uh, it's come up, yeah," Mingyu scratched the back of his neck.

"I don't really know what to say ..."

"We just ... You had fun the other night, right?"

"Yeah, I mean, it was great," you took a breath, "but we're friends. Right?"

You weren't sure if you were being rational or not. Did you like Mingyu and Jungkook? Sure. But together? At the same time? You had never considered such type of relationship.

"We- we don't have to be just friends," added Jungkook, not much confidence in his voice. He cleared his throat and tried again, "We like you, and we know that you like us back. Maybe not in the same way, but you do. That night would've gone very differently if you didn't."

You could've lied. You could've lied and left it off as an amazing one night stand with your two best friends. But the thought of never feeling what you felt that night ever again was not something you wanted to risk. It wasn't just about the pleasure. You had meant what you said that night; you wanted a stable relationship. You wanted someone to call a best friend, but be more than that. Someone to hold you at night. The three of you had always been glued by the hip, but you had never really thought of what it'd be like to take the next step – to have them be that person (or those people).

There were just too many questions in your head. Would this change your relationship negatively? Would they actually want to share you? Would this go anywhere?

You opted for answering Jungkook's question with another question.

"Are you okay with both of you liking me?"

They looked at each other for a moment before Mingyu ultimately answered.

"We've discussed it," he started, "When we first realized we both liked you, it did cause some tension. But the closer we got to you, the more we realized that we just wanted to be with you. Whether as friends or as more, we just wanted you."

You gulped at the confession, feeling your face heating up all of the sudden.

"I- I don't know what to say, I- I like you too. Both of you. I always thought that it was just as friends, but ... there'd be moments where I'd wonder. And after that night, I just-"

Jungkook leaned forwards, grabbing onto your hands. He smiled, ignoring most of your words and paying attention to what he cared about the most – you liked him.

"You like me back? Us? Do you- We could treat you so right. I- I've wanted you since we met. I've liked you for so long and ... Not just for sex. We could be more," his words were slightly frantic in nature, almost as if he wanted to sell something to you.

He didn't need any selling. You liked him. It became more and more glaring by the minute.

"Nothing has to change. We've been friends for this long. Just ... That guy you're looking for? To settle down with? That could be us," added Mingyu, placing a palm on your thigh for reassurance.

"What happens if I say yes?"

Mingyu's eyes grew dark.

"Do you want the PG version?"

You shook your head, mouth agape as you looked to Mingyu.

His face lit up as he leaned closer and closer to you, lips approaching the sensitive spots he had discovered on your neck just a few days ago. Stopping for just one moment, he looked to Jungkook to gesture he sit opposite of you, making you become sandwiched by both men yet again.

Now with both boys kissing down your neck, you allowed your head to rest against the back of the couch, attempting to fight the shudders escaping your body at the sensation.

"As our girlfriend ... we'd take you on dates," Mingyu sucked at a particularly sensitive spot, licking at it afterwards, "buy you pretty gifts, keep you warm at night," he took a pause, licking up the length of your neck, "take care of you every day."

Jungkook continued from where Mingyu left off, leaving soft whispers of kisses under your ear, "We share you. We take you home, cook for you, protect you," he nipped at your lobe, "We love you like no one else could ever imagine."

By now, you were gone. Through their whispered promises, their hands had decided to intrude your space yet again. Jungkook's had found a home between your legs, running up your skirt and gracing at your cunt, but only enough to have you puffing out breaths of desire. Mingyu's had migrated upwards, lowering the straps of your dress and liberating your breasts, hands needy as they pulled and tweaked at your nipples.

"What do you say, princess?", Mingyu pulled away, lips reaching your own, "Wanna have two boyfriends?", he pecked at your lips sensually.

"Mhmm ...", you nodded pathetically, not trusting your voice.

Jungkook groaned at your answer, hand finally slipping inside your panties, "Good girl ..."

"Fuck, gonna treat you so good, gorgeous," said Mingyu, continuing to kiss at your lips tongue seeking your own.

His lips trailed down to your breasts, sensually licking at your nipples, gradually giving them more and more attention. By the end of it, you were crying at the sensitivity.

Jungkook continued to play with your cunt, driving his fingers through your folds at a rhythmic pace that made your hips take a mind of their own, grinding upwards with a complete lack of coordination.

You were so focused on Jungkook's fingers that you didn't notice Mingyu making his way down your body, now kneeling between your legs as his lips made their way up your thighs, marking them to his heart's contentment.

"So fucking pretty ... Been wanting your pretty thighs around my head for years, princess ...", he mumbled to himself, nosing his way towards your cunt. When he finally arrived, he nudged Jungkook's finger's away, sticking his nose against your cunt as he took a shameless whiff of your scent, groaning gruttaly against you.

"So good ... Fuck, need this pretty cunt so bad. Can I have it, baby? Hmm? Let me have a taste of this pretty pussy?" he asked between depraved licks of your cunt through your panties.

Hiccuping back a sob, you nodded, opening your legs wider as you took a hold of Jungkook's hand for support.

Needing no further confirmation, Mingyu went straight into your cunt, ignoring the obstacle of your panties by pushing them aside. In the meantime, Jungkook's hand went to your chin, turning your whiny lips to his own and giving you a languid kiss. His tongue played with your own, taking advantage of your constant cries of pleasure to suck at your tongue and bite your lips as much as he desired.

Your hands went from holding onto Jungkook for support to his pants, undoing the drawstring as he continued to kiss you. With shaky hands, you snuck your hands in, pulling out his hardened cock as you began to jerk it in your hand. Now you were even; equally pathetic cries being released into each other's mouths as you both chased your highs.

Beneath you, you almost missed the way Mingyu's hips began humping against the couch, groans being released into your cunt due to the stimulation. You were far too distraed by kissing Jungkook, but Mingyu's eyes were rolled all the way back as his hips became uncontrollable, cumming in his boxers just moments before he licked you to completion.

Even as you came, Mingyu's lips didn't leave your cunt, just as yours stayed on Jungkook's. The room was a mess of wet sounds of tongues as Mingyu finally separated himself from you to take a breath.

"Prettiest fucking cunt," he mumbled to himself as he let himself lay on the floor of his living room in exhaustion.

"C-cum! 'm gonna cum ...", Jungkook managed to mumble against your lips, attempting to pull back but being enticed by your lips to continue kissing. Your hands sped up at his warning, warning his pretty seed to coat your hands as he reached his nirvana.

With a last groan, Jungkook froze against you while riding his high, hips pathetic in their movements against your hand. Bringing up your hand to your lips, you made a show of licking the remnants of cum, grinning when you beard a unison of groans from both boys.

Out of breath, Jungkook leaned against you, cuddling into you with a satisfied yet smile.

"So, was that a yes?"

Mingyu made his way to the couch again, taking up the last bit of personal space you had.

You chuckled.

"Yes. That was a yes."

to read short 2.7k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, oral (f receiving), jerking off, cucking, penetrative sex, reunion sex, etc.

wc: 296 (teaser); 2770 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Fuck, missed you so much. You have no idea," whispered Jungkook against your neck.

After having cornered you in one of Hybe's many endless hallways, Jungkook had grabbed you by the hand and led you to an empty changing room, pushing you up against the door and burying his face in your neck. It was mostly innocent, sans the feathery kisses down your neck. His hands were still in appropriate places.

"I was only gone for a month," you giggled against him.

"A month too long. Do you know how annoying Mingyu gets when you're not around? Jesus Christ," he groaned in mock annoyance, refusing to separate from your neck.

Breathing you in, he hummed, arms wrapping impossibly tighter around you.

"Where is he, by the way?"

"What, not enough attention from one of your boyfriends?", he softly bit at your neck in defiance, licking at the mark he left when you jumped in surprise.

"No! Just ... Missed seeing you two together."

After only a month of entering a romantic relationship, you were embarrassed to admit, but you had become quite needy, always wanting them around. This had led to a few problems within your company, which was blissfully unaware of your three-way relationship, but still had to deal with how much closer you had gotten – especially in public. There had been a few more rumors as of late, though none actually traced back to anything credible.

"He's at the gym. Should be here any minute, though, since he knows you're back."

"Hmm," you hummed, disconnecting him from your neck despite his complaints, "Wanna start without him?" you grinned.

With a boyish nod and a peak of his bunny teeth, the pretty boy agreed, dragging you over to one of the empty couches in the room.

...

find the 18+ continuation on kofi or patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #mingyu x reader #mingyu scenario #mingyu fanfic #mingyu smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts scenario #bts x reader #bts smut

[nkogneatho]

𝑶𝑯 𝑴𝒀 𝑩𝑰𝑮 𝑩𝑨𝑩𝒀 !!

— old bf!toji x young gf!reader

i think toji with a girlfriend that is so much younger than him is so adorable.

before you, he was just a man with a small room that is always so messy because he is rarely home. but, the room feels so much like home now that you have entered his life. he's never bothered to decorate or do anything. his heart flutters when he finds several photoframes hanging on the wall. one of you and him, a few of just his and a lot of megumi.

toji has never in his life ever clicked a selfie. he is not photogenic at all. so when you poke him to click one with you, he's not sure what to do in front of a camera. you tell him to just be himself and he is still confused. you lift the phone and make a peace sign with your hand, your teeth peeking out as your lips curve in a smile. you click it quickly and scan the photo. it is cute. you put a heart emoji with a wink one and upload it on your instagram. soon, your phone is buzzing with notifications. you open them and giggle. toji is so curious so he peeks and finds people calling him "the rock". He snatches the phone to scan the selfie you took earlier. you look so adorable with your cute little peace sign and smile and there he was beside you with a brow raised looking angry. "delete that shit right now," he orders. "are you kidding me? this is gold. it's going on the wall." he can't help but grin at how you find such silly things funny.

toji who is getting used to texting and wants to be even closer to you so he tries to learn some slangs. you are out with your friends when your phone chimes. you unlock it to see the text from toji.

toji: kys

you almost spit out the coffee you were enjoying. what the fuck is he on? what happened? you immediately call him.

"hello," his voice raspy.

"tojii! why the fuck would you say something like that to me?"

"what are you talking about?"

"the text you just sent me. why did you send that?"

"because i care for you, doll." you were even more confused now.

"you told me to kill myself because you care for me?"

"kill yourself? who said that? i sent K.Y.S." he spelled each letter out loud. "it means keep yourself safe." it takes you a few seconds to absorb and then you burst out laughing. he is not sure what is so funny.

"oh my poor big baby. kys means kill yourself."

oh. OH.

"i—i am so fucking sorry, princess. i was just—"

"you are so adorable. when i come home, i need to go through your google search history to know what other slangs you learnt." he is so embarrassed, he bites his lower lip. but he is also feeling so warm and fuzzy because you called him adorable. who would call a man in his mid 30s adorable? well, you did. and he is so happy about that. happier that he met you.

#jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk x reader #toji fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro fluff

[cryptotheism]

How did magicians back in the day make seals? Was there a science behind it or was it intuitive?

That's a really good question! The answer is extremely complicated!

When most people these days think of seals they think of goetic seals. But the terminology of "seals" actually comes from the idea of sealing a letter. Specifically, it refers to one of the many apocryphal versions of the story of Solomon and Ashmedai, in which king Solomon uses a signet ring with a special magical symbol on it to command demons.

Now, this is one of those biblical stories that people went absolutely nuts for. Jews, Christians, Muslims, damn near every abrahamic faith has their own take on the story, because let's be honest here it's cool as fuck.

But! The original story from the Tanakh doesn't refer to the seal at all, and focuses much more on controlling the sheyd with manacles inscribed with a secret name of God. The inherent magical power of names of God is a common trope in Jewish literature, but later versions of the tale also include greco-egyptian ideas about the inherent magical properties of language, forms, and mathematics.

So when we look at a contemporary English version of a goetic seal, we are looking at something with literally thousands of years of compiled knowledge behind it. I wouldn't necessarily call it science, or intuition, I would describe it as systematic, and narrative. Closer to how campfire stories are improved over generations as people tell and retell them.

Look at this seal of Belial:

The idea of the seal itself? That goes back to Babylonian Jewish ideas about written text having power to control supernatural entities. (Google Babylonian curse bowls if you haven't already.)

See how the letters are spaced? That's important. That goes back to neopythagorean ideas about regular polygons being fundamental building blocks of the universe.

The little crosses? Those are probably cruciforms! That's how you can tell Christians were involved at some point.

See how some of the lines of the seal end in little loops? That goes back to ptolmaic Egyptian ideas about magic. If the crosses are cruciforms, these are probably ankh-forms! You see shapes like that all over magical texts from the 2nd-6th century Mediterranean!

These symbols are the result of dozens of cultures and people and languages collectively yes-anding each other for literally thousands of years. They are DENSE with meaning.

[badjokesbyjeff]

There were three race horses; ernie, bill, and ted. 

the three of them were good friends; they enjoyed racing each other and generally won and lost to each other equally. every evening, after the races, they went to a local bar to relax and drink some beer. they would often discuss racing techniques, their families, etc.

one season, bill wasn't doing so well. he rarely beat the other two, and was worried that he'd be sent to the glue factory if his luck didn't change. one night, at the bar, he talked with ernie and ted about it.

"you know, guys, i just can't figure it out," he said. "everything's fine at home; the kids are doing great, my wife is being nice, the bills are paid, my mother-in-law rarely visits - nothing could be better. maybe i'm just getting old. if things don't pick up soon, they'll send me to the glue factory."

the bartender, a big llama from peru, overheard the conversation. he looked around, to make sure nobody else was listening, then said, "hey, pal, i got something for you that'll make you feel like a young colt again." he reached under the bar and pulled out an unlabeled bottle of beer. "here, drink this; i guarantee you'll start winning again. come by each night for a week and I'll give you one. if it doesn't work, i'll give you double your money back!"

bill looked at ernie and ted, who only shrugged, then drank the contents of the bottle. "oh, just one thing," the llama said, "it'll make your ass itch, but that's okay; it's just a side effect. don't worry about it." the three horses stayed a few hours, played a few games of pool and darts, and went home.

over the course of the next three days, they went back to the bar each night, and bill continued the regimen of mystery beer. his racing times did improve! he was slowly moving back up in the rankings, and was soon back into the top three with ernie and ted. bill was ecstatic, and thanked the llama profusely.

"hey, my pleasure," said the llama.

a few weeks passed by, and ernie started slowing down. after losing three races in a row, he sobbed to himself, "i just don't get it. my life couldn't be better. i can't believe I'm getting old! they'll send me to the glue factory if i don't get back in the groove!"

that evening, at the bar, he told the llama bartender about his troubles, and asked if he too could try the mystery beer. "okay, but remember, it'll make your ass itch - but don't pay it no mind. it's just a harmless side effect."

"no problem. it'll be worth it to get back in the groove," ernie said.

a few days went by. ernie's ass did indeed itch, but after a few more days, his races improved, and he was back in the top three with bill and ted.

at the bar one evening, ernie bought a round of beers for all the horses, and thanked the llama profusely.

"i just can't believe how great that mystery beer worked!" ernie said. "you're sitting on a gold mine, there!" the llama said it was his pleasure, don't worry about it, etc.

a few more weeks went by, and now ted started slowing down, losing races. he, too realized that he'd be shipped off to the glue factory unless his races improved.

"say," he said to the llama one night after a particularly humiliating loss, "i think i need to try that mystery beer too. they'll ship me off to the glue factory for sure if I don't start winning again."

"no problem," the llama said, pulling out an unlabeled bottle. "here. come back every night, and i guarantee you'll be back in top form again, or i'll give you double your money back."

over the course of the next few weeks, ted's races continued to improve until he was back in the top three with bill and ernie. he pranced into the bar, full of vim and vigor, and thanked the llama profusely. "you know, my ass itches a lot; it's almost unbearable. but i can't thank you enough. they would have turned me into glue by now if it weren't for you. anything you want, let me know and i'll see what i can do."

"no problem," said the llama, "i make this beer at home using an ancient inca recipe. it's just my way of thanking my regular customers for their patronage over the years."

"i'm not kidding," ted said, "this is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. anything, you name it, anything you want, let me know, and it's yours."

"well, now that you mention it..." the llama began -

right then, a greyhound walked up to the bar. he was obviously depressed.

"barkeep, give me something strong. i'm on a losing streak you wouldn't believe," the greyhound said.

ted looked at the greyhound, then at bill and ernie, and said, "hey, look! a talking dog!"

#funny #jokes #humor #lol #comedy

[capricornlevi]

inevitability- nanami x f!reader

tags: friends to lovers, salaryman!nanami, breeding, unprotected sex, fingering, missionary, mating press, creampie, mild cumplay

cw: alcohol (all sex sober & consensual!), pregnancy mentions, rough but v v consensual sex, reader and nanami are both in their late 20s/early 30s

word count: 5.3k

a/n: in which your decide with your good friend of many years that it's time to get you pregnant <3 this has been festering in my brain and i know it's pretty different than what i usually write but ! here it is! ahh! sounds of me screaming!

//

"this is weird, y'know?" you blurt out, watching as nanami hangs up his jacket by your front door before settling down beside you on the couch. he keeps a respectful distance, resting his hands on his broad thighs and smoothing down the fabric of his slacks, clearly nervous. "this is very, very weird. like, weird at levels i don't think people have achieved before."

"i know," nanami replies diplomatically, as if he could be anything but excruciatingly aware of how unconventional this is. "are you having second thoughts? because i completely understand --"

you shake your head abruptly. "no, no, just ... thinking aloud, i guess. just getting used to this, because it's really ... um ..."

"weird?" nanami offers helpfully, and you turn to nod.

"weird."

because what else do you call agreeing to have a baby with your platonic friend of 10 years?

you first met nanami on the second day of college and knew right away he'd be a good dad, even back when having kids wasn't even a consideration for you. it was obvious; he was already a good dad back then, with how he looked out for his underclassmen even as he progressed through his degree. how he stayed sober when he knew people would be going overboard, not sleeping until you texted him to confirm you'd gotten home safe after a party.

he helped you study at the weekends and, in return, you provided him with a discount at the local cafe where you worked. through this time spent knocking back americanos and proofing each other's work, you grew close.

even with all his responsibility and good sense contrasting your exuberance and recklessness, you found yourself enjoying being with him. and he could be funny, too, delivering sharp and witty quips when you least expected it.

you became inseparable. insufferable, some would call it; the matching-halloween-costume type of insufferable, a borderline codependent but obliviously happy friendship that can only be fostered on a college campus.

then right after college, when you had dived straight into your quarter-life crisis and dyed your hair every colour under the sun, got piercings in too many places, slept with questionable people and dated some even worse, nanami had gotten himself a decent, impressive, well-paying job. it was a job that had him wearing tailored suits at 23, paired with fancy glasses that cost more than your rent, and you'd laughed at him, at how serious he looked. but you also worried at how the bags under his eyes grew deeper and darker, how the amused lilt to his voice started to dissipate as time went on.

his 9 to 5 turned to an 8 to 6, and then he was working weekends and skipping movie nights, missing out on meeting new boyfriends of yours, fading into the periphery of your life with you unable to do anything about it.

as with all relationships in your twenties, it was hard to stay in touch. the higher he climbed up the career ladder, the further you grew apart.

soon, it was only on holidays or birthdays when you both would reach out, cordial and civil but achingly unfamiliar.

then, on your twenty-ninth birthday, drunk at a bar and having taken a couple minutes away from your raucous friend group, you had stepped outside to grab some fresh air only to walk head-on into nanami's firm chest.

you had spluttered apologies, lifting your head to see who you had headbutted, only to find your old friend looking down at you with an amused look on his face.

and just like that, things picked up where they left off. you spent the night talking, catching up over drinks and laughter.

with a tone that was only half-teasing, you had asked him what brought him out tonight -- it was hard enough to get him to come out for drinks when you were both in college, much less now with his big fancy job.

but he had laughed in that gentle, airy way you'd heard a thousand times, explaining that he had been out socialising with clients who had just left minutes before. he was just on his way out before running into you.

perfect timing. painfully perfect.

you stayed talking until last call, making exhilarated promises to get in touch the next day.

and to your surprise, you both actually stuck to that.

in the ten months since then, you've met up every sunday for breakfast at your favourite cafe. over lattes and freshly baked croissants, you fill each other in on the details of the half-decade spent apart. he had a serious girlfriend, serious to the point of moving in together, but she'd gotten spooked and left him last summer to go travelling. he was hurt, obviously, but understood her perspective in that annoyingly calm, measured way that is just part of his nature.

and on your end -- despite the drunken circumstances in which you'd been reacquainted, which is all part of moderation, after all -- you've actually calmed down considerably since your early twenties.

you have your own apartment. you have a rescue cat you care for immensely, even when he tries wriggling out of your arms to go stare out the window at passing cyclists. you have a retirement fund, started yoga, learned to bake your own bread.

you're not boring, you still have fun and let off steam whenever you can, but you're having the sort of revelations about life that nanami seems to have had years ago.

fun is good. fun is important. but it can't be everything, because then it starts to come at a cost.

truthfully, the birth of your nephew is what prompted you to make some changes. you didn't want to show up to babysit hungover. you wanted to have funds to hand in order to treat him to little toys and sweets when your sister allowed it, and soon found yourself amazed at how his little face lit up every time he saw you.

it made you grow up, and fast.

in the course of your cafe hangouts, you had mentioned your nephew to nanami. showed pictures of the boy's pudgy little hands reaching for the camera, told stories of how he could tell the difference between new episodes of Bluey versus reruns, and how he's changed your entire life without even realising.

soon, talk about your nephew turned to general musings about your own future.

then one night, when you decided to switch your meetup location from the cafe to a cocktail bar, you shared something that you had barely admitted to yourself.

you wanted to have a kid.

this realisation wasn't borne from some crisis about entering a new decade, it wasn't something forced on you by others or general societal pressure. it was something that grew organically, inspired by the honour of watching your little nephew grow up.

to your surprise, nanami didn't scoff or dismiss you. you figured he'd have rolled his eyes, laughing off your confession since you weren't in a committed relationship.

instead, he expressed similar sentiments, but for slightly different reasons.

"i'm sick of work being my whole life," he had mused quickly, sipping an old fashioned with a funny look in his eye. "it was only when we started hanging out again that i realised how much of my life I've wasted at a place that wouldn't care if i lived or died."

"do i need to be worried about you having the type of rebellious streak the rest of us went through ten years ago?" you asked, smiling and fidgeting with one of your rings without thinking.

he waved off your suggestion with a fond roll of his eyes. "i'm not impulsively quitting or anything, don't worry. just want to take a step back, i suppose, or find something with shorter hours. i just think there's more to life than endless hours slaving behind a desk."

you toasted to that sentiment, knocking back the last of your cosmo.

nanami continued, watching you set your empty glass back down with a soft grin on his lips. "the whole family, kids thing ... i get it, you know? it makes sense."

"yeah?" you pried carefully, interested to see where this is going.

"i'd be lying if i said i didn't think about it, too. i have a nest egg saved up which means i'd be able to take time off to help with a kid, to actually be there to see them grow up. and it's not that i want to have one just because i think i need to -- i think i'd be decent at it, y'know? the whole parenting thing."

you obviously agreed. you'd thought the same for a while now, and getting reacquainted with the man has only spurred on those thoughts.

he really would be perfect.

the issue wasn't discussed further that night, but it was brought up again at coffee the following sunday, then at the bakery the week after that, and before long, it was your birthday again.

after a massive party with all your friends and family -- and a little too much wine -- nanami had stayed behind to help you clean up, because of course he would, and you got to talking again, got to revisiting that topic that had been at the back of both of your minds.

you can't remember the exact wording of the discussion or how many bottles of prosecco fuelled the conversation, but what you do know is that when you sobered up, you didn't regret agreeing to it.

you were gonna have a kid together.

you and nanami.

coparenting.

as outlandish an idea as it might seme on the surface, when looking at it a little deeper, it made sense to you. this wasn't decided on a whim. this was something that had momentum building behind it for months and months, perhaps even years, without you even realising.

when meeting up for coffee the following week, you both gave each other an out. said there'd be no big deal if things were called off. but neither one of you took it, despite laughing for what felt like hours about how bizarre it all felt.

still, no sign of backing out.

which brings you to tonight, the agreed-upon date of when you'd start trying.

nanami had suggested using artificial fertility methods if that made you more comfortable, but you politely turned him down, thinking it unnecessary. he wasn't a stranger -- plus, you'd be lying if you said he wasn't objectively attractive -- so if he had no objections to trying things the old-fashioned way, then you didn't either.

and he obviously didn't mind too much since he's now here on your couch, folding his arms and then unfolding them as he waited for you to make the first move.

he looks good, despite all the nerves. he's filled out over the years, though he was always strong, with every muscle in his body well-defined and perfectly proportional. his hair is still blond but with the faintest specks of grey, his skin brighter and more well-rested than that night you got reacquainted.

his deep brown eyes stay fixed on you and your skin heats as his gaze traces over you.

"do you want me to kiss you?" you break the silence, the words tumble messily from your mouth.

he looks taken aback, as if this was something he'd vaguely considered but never thought would actually happen.

"do ... do you want to?"

his earnestness has you smiling, cutting through the tension, and you meet his eyes properly for the first time since he arrived tonight. he always has this way of making you feel comfortable, his presence alone is like an embrace that calms the racing thoughts that constantly occupy your mind.

it's only now that you're close, so close, you realise that maybe you really do want to --

"i wouldn't suggest it otherwise," you murmur softly as if your heart isn't hammering against your ribcage, shifting nearer to him on the couch but keeping that last bridge of distance for him to close.

his tongue swipes over his lower lip, almost subconsciously demonstrating his wishes as his line of sight drifts down to your mouth. he nods then, dipping his head, only a couple inches of space between you now.

"yeah -- yeah, okay."

you can see how his pupils dilate as you reach out to slip his glasses off, setting them down on the coffee table, cupping his face in your hands.

he returns your smile at that gesture, just the slightest hint of nerves in his eyes that disappear when he finally decides to press your lips to yours.

his lips are softer than you imagined ... though until this very moment, you hadn't even realised that this was something you had imagined.

he lets you set the rhythm but doesn't shy away; he meets your movements, your energy at every kiss, letting you stop for a moment to adjust yourself as things progress.

this should feel weird, right? you should have some lingering feeling of awkwardness at making out with your best friend, at taking his hand in yours and setting it down on your thigh to show you want him to touch you?

this was supposed to be a relatively unromantic event, after all. it wasn't meant to be the start of anything. though it was never clinical or unemotional -- you're technically starting a family together, after all, if an entirely unconventional one -- you never foresaw it going down like this.

this feels like something that was meant to happen.

he pulls back ever-so-slightly, lips still grazing against yours as he asks softly, "this okay?"

you nod by way of answer, not wanting to waste another second not kissing him. nanami captures your lips with his again, and with renewed enthusiasm, slips his tongue into your mouth, probing gently and barely hiding the low rumble of a groan deep in his throat.

all thoughts of propriety start to fade into the ether. his hand on your thigh burns hot, shifting up and down the exposed skin. you'd worn a nice dress for the evening, unsure of the dress code for an event as strange as this, but you find yourself grateful for choosing something that fell so far above the knee.

his hands are rougher than his lips but not in an unpleasant way. you figure it's from his only out-of-work hobby that doesn't consist of hanging out with you; his renovation group. nanami is part of a volunteer organisation that helps build and renovate houses for those in need -- as if he couldn't get any more painfully perfect, obviously.

you stay like that for a few more minutes, exploring these new sensations and becoming increasingly more aware of the ball of anticipation burning in your lower stomach. everywhere he touches you feels warm, every soft nip against your lips feels electric.

then, against every instinct in your body, you force yourself to pause to take a few steadying breaths. nanami responds in the same way, pulling his hands back to his own thighs, adjusting his stance on the couch.

he's hard, you can see as much from the awkward way he shuffles in his seat. not to mention the bulge very obviously visible in the front of his slacks -- just seeing it fills you with want, with the need to touch and be touched.

this is moving more fluidly than you had expected, arriving at each decision without a second thought. in that vein, you decide to ask:

"want to head to the bedroom?", hoping you don't sound as desperate as you're feeling. "if you're ready -"

"yes," he responds before you've even finished your sentence. you feel grateful that the eagerness is not one-sided as you get to your feet, taking nanami by the hand to pull him up with you.

when you've reached your room and the door is shut behind you, revealing the modest set up of your freshly-made bed and a single scented candle -- any more than that felt a little too forced, too awkward -- you marvel at the feeling of nanami's hands on your hips, somehow gentle and firm at the same time, manoeuvring you onto the bed with a pre-rehearsed confidence that never verges on forceful.

your head hasn't even hit the pillow before he's kissing you again like he's starving for it. it's messy this time, the gentle exploration from before giving way to something more primal and urgent.

you have to remind yourself that this is your nanami you're kissing. the nanami who was there for you through the most painful college breakups. the nanami who knows your coffee order, who helped zip up the back of your graduation dress.

but now, with his tongue against yours and the stiffness pressing against your stomach, all you can think is why you didn't do this sooner?

just as you're about to combust underneath him, he pulls back, balancing himself on an elbow as his eyes flick down to see how your dress is bunched at the top of your thighs. he closes his eyes, his breaths ragged and unsteady.

"i don't know how--" he whispers, tongue gliding over his kiss-slick lips, "how ... technical you might want to go about this."

you let out a little laugh, craning your neck to kiss his jawline so he knows it's not at his expense.

"i never really thought about the technicalities, but it doesn't have to be too clinical, or anything. i know you, you know me. we can just ... have sex."

"have sex," he repeats slowly, eyes open again, the hint of a grin on his face.

"yeah, have sex!" you answer with a chuckle. "or is there another way you'd like me to phrase it?"

he laughs then too, looking at you again as he shakes his head softly.

"what?" you press him with a mock indignance. "it's rude to laugh at my suggestion, actually. i felt it was pretty accurate."

"i'm not laughing at you," he says gently, lips still curved upwards. "just ... i must have pictured you saying those words a thousand times, and i never thought it -- it's just funny to hear out loud, is all."

it takes you a second to fully comprehend the words as they wash over you.

you'd be ignorant to say that the realisation never dawned on you, but it was something you thought was a relic of your college years. he had blushed a few times too many whenever the topic of sex came up at parties, had a hint of jealousy in his voice when giving advice about one particular ex-boyfriend. at your apartment complex's winter party in senior year, you can tell he was thinking about kissing you.

but that was when you were young and naive, inexperienced with life, and the thought of this nanami desiring you, of picturing you in his life, of imagining what you'd look like spread out underneath him like this --

you lift your head and grab his shirt collar, yanking him in for another kiss. when he's settled back against you, your hands weave down to unbutton his shirt. you feel him smile against your lips as he starts to unzip your dress in return.

you're a mess of limbs as items of clothing get strewn across your bedroom carpet. before long, it's all skin-on-skin, the heat of his body pressed against yours before he grabs your waist and flips you over until you're straddling him.

you feel the length of him pressed against your stomach, hot and painfully hard, but from the way he cups his hand against your neck and starts to kiss your throat, you know he's not going to rush this.

just as you gasp out his name as his teeth nip against your pulse point, he brings his other hand to the apex of your thighs, fingertips resting just over your pubic bone, barely brushing against the sensitive skin.

"want me to touch you?" he mumbles quietly against your throat, the way his breath fans over you making you shiver.

you nod pitifully, hips canting towards him, but he doesn't budge.

"need you to say it," he says low, quiet, thumb shifting down by the millimetre, "need to know how much you want it."

"i want it," you gasp, the arch of your back deepening the closer he gets to your aching core, all concerns about appearing desperate evaporating with every press of his lips to your skin. "i want it, kento, p- please touch me."

nanami obliges, fingertips trailing down until his thumb is brushing over your clit. he slides his hand lower, fingers slipping through your damp lips, and then uses your own wetness to start rubbing you in earnest.

any form of articulate thought slips from your mind, replaced with only those that can get you more of this -- nanami's fingers playing with your clit, the other hand possessively resting at your nape, his cock pressed between you with precum beading at the tip.

you want it in your mouth. you want it inside you, and as you go to shift your hips, nanami shifts his back.

"want to see what you look like when you come first," he says, slipping his middle and ring finger inside you as if to prove he's going about it the right way.

and he really is, because after only a few strokes of his fingers, your vision is getting hazy. you've never been this turned on so quickly before, never felt this desperate, all-consuming urge -- but then again, you've never had a man look at you like this before now either.

you try to focus on the sensation of his fingers stretching you open, his thumb still stroking your clit in the perfect rhythm, but your mind wanders to the thick cock pressed up against you. you want to rub against him, let him fill you up, make him feel good too --

but looking at his face now, pupils blown and lower lip raw from biting down on it, you can tell this is as much for him as it is for you.

less than a minute later it hits you, the explosion of warmth radiates out to every cell in your body, rendering you a boneless mess in nanami's arms.

he holds you as the aftershock subsides, strong arms keeping you steady even when your legs feel as though they've turned to jelly. when you feel capable of supporting yourself, you slide ungracefully from where you were perched on his thighs and fall back against your pillows, head spinning blissfully.

nanami leans down next to you and kisses your forehead, whispering words of praise that fill you with a strange sensation you can't quite place.

"want to take a break?" he ask after a few moments have passed, "or if you're tired, we can try again later --"

"no," you cut him off, turning your head to look at him directly, face splitting into a smile through the post-orgasm haze. "i just need a second is all, i still -- if you want to --"

"i do."

and so to ease yourself back into it, you kiss him slowly, intimately, bodies gently intertwining as he shifts closer to you on the bed. you guide his hands to your chest, gasping as his thumb circles a nipple.

"you're just ... beautiful in a way i don't really have words for," he mumbles, watching you squirm pleasurably under him.

"nanami kento lost for words? a first time for everything," you manage to quip through it all, earning a pinch of the other nipple that turns your laugh into a moan.

"we've plenty more firsts to get through tonight."

at that, nanami shifts halfway down the mattress and gets to his knees, hands gripping your thighs as he spreads them open. he takes his cock in his hand and slowly drags the head through your folds, up and down but not yet penetrating you, appreciating how you're almost sucking him in, the eager way you pull back your legs to accommodate him.

he stays like that for a minute. every time you think he's about to sink in, he holds himself back as if transfixed by the obscene sounds that come from playing with your pussy, of using you to stroke himself off.

he looks to be on the verge of a choice, like his brain is fighting between two options: taking you slow and gentle like you deserve, or sinking in and fucked into you desperately, filling you up until he knows he's bred you, that you're his and only his.

you soon glean that he wants you to actually say it out loud, wants to hear those words he's fantasised about for so long.

"fuck me, kento."

now utterly unable to hold off any longer, he heeds your request, lining up and thrusting inside you in one fluid motion.

it's a pleasant stretch; he's still careful to let you adjust to his size but you're soon relishing the feeling of being so full, and the fucked-out grin on your face spurs him on.

his hips shift back inch by inch until he's almost fully pulled out, letting out a low groan as he sinks back in again, and at that, he knows he's a goner, completely lost to the feeling of his entire length buried inside you.

this is nanami at his most possessive, fucking into you as you're caged in by his strong arms, your knees now pulled back as far as they'll go. the skin on the back of your thighs is raw from your nails digging into them but you don't care, single-minded in your aim to keep the head of his cock brushing against that perfect spot inside you.

your shoulder blades press into your soft pillows as you try to keep from writhing too much, wanting with all of your might to avoid upsetting this perfect rhythm.

above you, nanami's perfect cheekbones are flushed, his brows knit tightly together, your silky walls wrapping tight around his cock in a way that's driving him to the brink sooner than he'd like. against all better judgment, he slows down just slightly, allowing himself to indulge in the sensation.

"you take my cock so well, y'know that?" he mumbles in between quiet grunts, "with that pretty look on your face when i fill you up... you're trying to kill me, i swear to god."

you both laugh breathlessly before yours breaks off in a moan, slurring his name as he speeds up subconsciously. he presses his lips to every inch of your neck, jaw, collarbone, thrusts unrelenting but never too much.

if you weren't already aware of how soaked you are, the slick sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you provide more than enough proof, melding with the soft squeak of your bedsprings to just about cut through the muffled sound of your moans.

your body now guided more by instinct than intention, you slip your hand down to where your hips are pressed together, two fingers circling the swollen bud of your clit. the angle of his ruts means his cock grazes your fingertips as he pulls out, the desperate rubbing of your hand between your legs spurring him on.

"still want me to come inside you?" he says then, strands of hair coming loose, sticking to his forehead, "want me to fill you up?"

you nod feebly -- the answer clearly not sufficient in itself, since he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours as he meets you for a wet, messy kiss. continuing his question with his lips still touching yours, he asks;

"want me to take care of you? want to be my pretty wife, hm, wanna -- fuck -- wanna be mine, yeah?"

you slur something unintelligible, focusing on the second orgasm gathering quick and hot in your core. you lose your grip on your thighs and fumble to pull your legs back up.

nanami helps to hike your legs back up -- but not in their original position. instead, he guides them until your ankles rest on his shoulders, and after taking just a second to press a kiss to your calf, he sinks back to the hilt. feeling him bottom out, your vision nearly goes white; this new angle allows him to slide in so deep it's practically splitting you open, so deep you can tell he's serious about breeding you.

somehow, the sensation remains just shy of too much -- it's not too much of a stretch or causing too much sensitivity -- it's more than you've ever taken but you honestly feel you could stay like this forever, taking nanami's cock like you were made for it, with him looking down at you with a mixture of reverence and pure lust.

you want him like this for the rest of your life.

"i'm gonna need you to answer, cos I'm pretty close," he half-pleads as if reading your mind, his voice deep and strained, firm chest heaving as the thrusts get messier and less coordinated.

though your mind is near-blank and your lungs feel they can't get enough air, you manage to mumble a "fuck, yes. want -- want you to come inside, kento ... please."

that last word tips him over with you following almost immediately after, clenching around his cock as you feel him pulsing inside you, feeling more full than you've ever felt in your life. his head tips back as he cums, moaning beautiful praise you can just about make out, strands of sentences about you being the only one he wants taking his come, about how he's going to keep fucking you full for as long as it takes.

sparks of electricity reverberate through your body, hips pushing against his as you ride out your orgasm, pretty little whimpers harmonising with nanami's continued praise.

you stay like that for what seems like forever, basking in the wave of pleasure that's just swept you away effortlessly.

everything is just ... warm. purely and blissfully warm. the warmth of his hands still gripping your legs, the warmth of your own breath fanning over your sweaty chest, the warmth between your legs that starts to dribble down the backs of your thighs when nanami pulls out.

for good measure, nanami uses two fingers to push some of his come back inside, grinning as aftershocks pulse around the digits.

you lower your tired legs to rest on the mattress, thighs aching from being bent practically in half, but it's easy to disregard any physical exhaustion when you feel this level of contentment.

nanami's arms are soon wrapped around you, pulling you to rest on top of his chest where you spend some moments of perfect silence.

you can hear his heart beating in his chest, skipping a beat when you angle your head up to meet his gaze again.

"well?" you ask, a smile imbued in your words. "still lost for words?"

"just thinking about how every second of this was worth waiting for," he replies without missing a beat, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches how his answer flusters you.

with one hand behind his head as he rests of the pillow and the other wrapped around your shoulders, nanami looks more relaxed than you've maybe ever seen him.

this is a man who looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown when you reconnected less than a year ago; he's almost unrecognisable now, the dark circles under his eyes have faded, his face filling out a bit more, the smile on his face entirely genuine.

and in this moment you feel a burst of clarity, a sudden realisation that's eluded you since that first night you met in college.

maybe -- just maybe -- you're as good an influence on him as he is on you.

#nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #may tries to write #oh lord #im not even going to tell you how long i spent drafting this bad boy #please join me in the brainrot please

[girlgenius1111]

hallmarks of sisterhood

putellas!reader. r mediates a fight between her sisters. they don't realize they're tearing her apart in the process. at least, not until they ruin an important night for her. can they make it up to her? fluff & angst.

-------

Being significantly younger than your sisters, you were the true baby of the family, and were treated as such. You were already a pretty sensitive person, and the overprotective tendencies of the entire family only increased this. You were quite different from both your sisters. Alba was an extrovert, always talking, always laughing, never thinking too hard about anything. Alexia was quieter in public, but always loud at home in an attempt to match Alba’s energy. The competitive gene only seemed to skip you, and you hated conflict. Any type of it. You didn’t like yelling, you didn’t like arguments, and you couldn’t stand when people were mad at you. 

It made sense then, that you’d always been the mitigator between your sisters. They were always fighting growing up, and it took a very small you to break up the fights that the teenage versions of them would get into, often shoving your small body in between theirs and singing a song so loudly they had no choice but to stop arguing. If the singing didn’t work, then you’d cry, and that always worked. 

As you got older, your role changed slightly. You were still the mitigator, but more because you were logical and smart and both of them could normally trust you to be objective. You didn’t really enjoy it, but you hated it more when they weren’t speaking to each other, so you did what you could to resolve their fights easily. 

All of this considered, you were not surprised to catch yourself in an argument between them yet again. This one wasn’t super similar to the others, though, in that it was much more emotionally charged. Both Alexia and Alba seemed angrier at each other than normal, and you didn’t know why. Still, you tried to fix it, as best you could. 

-------

“I cannot believe you, Alba.” Alexia sighed, shaking her head at her other sister. 

“Don’t try to guilt trip me, Ale, this isn’t my fault. I told you before there was a chance I’d have to go to this conference.” Alba shot back.

“You don’t have to go, you are choosing to go. So you can hook up with that coworker you're seeing.” 

Alba flushed red with anger. 

“Let’s calm down, guys,” you began, shifting uncomfortably in your seat in the corner of the sectional. Neither girl paid you any mind. 

“I am going for work, Alexia, I wouldn’t sleep with anyone at a work conference.”

“Oh, yes of course, you’re so above that. You are notorious for not hooking up with people in inappropriate situations Alba, how could I forget. It was only 4 of my teammates you slept with? And how many of my other friends?” 

“You are such a-”

“Stop.” You cut in. “Alexia, that was mean. Alba, she’s just disappointed because she was looking forward to spending time with everyone.” You cut in, trying to cool the rising temperature of the room. 

“No, I am disappointed because we made a commitment to do this for Mami and now she’s backing out. Like always.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Alba scoffed. 

“The last trip to Ibiza. Mother’s day last year. My 25th birthday,” Alexia began to list, counting the events off on her fingers rather condescending. 

“Guys, please calm down.” You attempted. 

“Will you ever get over me missing your 25th birthday? Or are you going to have it engraved on your tombstone? ‘My sister missed my birthday once and I never shut up about it.’” Alba yelled, getting to her feet and walking closer to where Alexia was sitting at the kitchen counter. 

When Alexia rose to meet her, you stood nervously, too, moving a bit closer. “Why don’t we all stay seated?” You tried. 

Both of them continued to ignore you, as if you weren’t even there. “That is not the point, Alba.” 

“No, Ale, the point is that only your career is important. Everyone has to drop everything for football, but what I do doesn’t matter, and I have to bend over backwards to make things work with your insane schedule. The world doesn’t revolve around you, Alexia.”

“Oh my god, Alba. You are such a bitch.” Alexia sighed, rolling her eyes in a way she knew would make the younger girl furious.  

“You are the bitch, Alexia. A selfish, bossy, mean bitch,” Alba yelled, crossing her arms and taking a step closer to the older girl. 

“Alba, I swear to god,” Alexia threw back, the volume of her voice making you flinch. You stepped in between them, forcing them to both back up a bit. 

“Please stop shouting.” You pleaded, looking between them. Both of them turned to you, annoyed.

“Go somewhere else if it’s bothering you, pequeña! Adults argue. Grow up.” Alexia yelled, sending a glare your way. You stopped back, blinking away tears, looking incredibly hurt. Alexia sighed. “Sorry, nena, I didn’t mean-” 

It was too late, though, you were pushing past her towards the door of her house. “No, whatever. I’ll go. Solve your argument by yourselves for once.” You snapped. 

“Nice job, Ale, you made the el bebe cry.” Alba said mockingly. 

“Shut your mouth, Alba. Pequeña, come back,” Alexia called, but the door was already slamming shut behind you. 

You wiped at your eyes furiously, getting into your car. You’d always hated how sensitive you were, how anyone raising their voice at you made you cry. You couldn’t argue, couldn’t disagree without dissolving into tears. Normally, angry tears. You’d always been like this, and your sisters often made fun of it, but were aware of the fact that you hated yelling, and tried to avoid doing so. Even when they were fighting with each other. Today got too out of control, though, both of them taking this specific issue very seriously. 

They’d have to figure it out themselves, this time. You were done with this. They knew how you felt about conflict, and yet they always put you in the middle. It was exhausting and hurtful being caught in between them. They were adults, they could solve this argument. 

You and Eli didn’t live far from Alexia, and you reached home before you were really ready to. You needed to erase all evidence of your tears from your face before heading inside, because Eli could not know about this. You and your sisters did not tell on each other, for one thing. For another, there was a possibility the trip in question could be rescheduled and you didn’t want to ruin the surprise. 

You checked your face in the mirror, took a deep breath, denied Alexia’s phone call, and headed inside, prepared to pretend that nothing was wrong. 

------

You got past your mother with very few questions asked, as she was distracted reading over Alexia’s new Nike contracts. Your sister still had Eli read all her contracts, a habit you and Alba teased her about often. 

Eli did come knocking, though, only a few hours later, while you were in your room getting some homework done. “Nena?” She called from the hallway, not hearing a response to her knock. 

Still, you didn’t say anything, so she pushed the door open, only to find you asleep at your desk, your head resting on a pile of photographs, your computer opened up to photoshop. A black and white photo of your sister at training was pulled up, and Eli quickly averted her eyes, knowing very well she wasn’t supposed to see this particular assignment until you were done.

“Mija,” Eli said, covering her eyes as she heard you stir. “Go to bed, it’s late, and you are exhausted.” 

“Do not look, Mami!” You cried, sitting up completely and quickly flipping everything over and shutting your computer. 

“I’m not!” Eli replied, laughing at how secretive you were about these photos. 

“Okay, everything is away.” You said, standing to give your mother a hug before getting into bed. She squeezed you tight, as she always did, kissing your cheek before letting go. 

“Goodnight,” she said, giving you a kind smile. 

“Goodnight mami,” you replied, knowing she was smiling because she knew you were about to get back on your computer as soon as she left the room. 

“Oh, do you know why your sister’s are fighting? I texted the groupchat with them, and they both replied to me separately.” Eli asked with an eye roll, quite used to your sisters’ antics. 

“Something dumb, probably.” You said with an unconvincing laugh. Your mother gave you a weird look, like she didn't believe you, but didn’t push it. 

As soon as she was out of the room, you were, in fact, back on your computer, finishing up the final touches on a photo of Alexia. You were really too excited to be preoccupied with your sisters at the moment. You were in school studying photography, and after a recent exhibition at your school, a gallery in Barcelona had reached out and asked you to shoot a series for them to display. They’d given you full creative control, which was an insane amount of trust to put into a 20 year old, and you were determined not to mess it up. 

If that meant staying up late making sure every photo was perfect in the next couple days, so be it. You were proud of this work, and that wasn’t really a common feeling for you. You’d grown up in the shadow of your two sisters. Alexia was the best female footballer in the world, and Alba was… Alba. Everyone loved her. Nothing you ever did seemed to really make anyone pay attention, except for your Mami. Eli had always been careful to celebrate your and Alba’s accomplishments, like she celebrated Alexia’s, even if they weren’t of the same magnitude. Your sisters were a bit better than the rest of your family and friends, paying attention to what you did, but it always felt a bit like your mother was making them do so. 

This was your chance to do something impressive of your own. Something that everyone could understand, everyone could be impressed by. It was an opportunity you were not about to waste. You didn’t realize the potential that other people had, though, to ruin it for you. 

------

The next few days were busy. When you weren’t working on your photos, making sure they were perfectly edited and printed properly, you were worrying about what people would think about them. Or you were trying to pick the perfect outfit for Saturday evening, the opening of the gallery. There wasn’t a ton of time for you to respond to Alexia’s repetitive apologies, or to Alba’s pleading for you to be on her side. It was annoying, really, that during such an important and stressful week, they couldn’t leave you out of their argument. 

You finally had enough on Friday, pulling up the groupchat with both of them in it, and sending a rather harsh message. It wasn’t like you to be harsh and snap at them, and you were hoping they would get the message that they’d upset you, and you wanted to be left out of this. 

If one of you texts me one more time about this idiotic fight, I am going to tell Mami that it was you two who dented her car, not the neighbor backing into it. I am so tired of being pulled into the middle of this. Both of you apologize to each other for being mean, and get over it. 

You hoped that would be the end of it. When your phone buzzed a few minutes later, though, you knew that had been a naive hope. 

Alexia had responded first. 

It should not be hard to pick a side when I am right, nena.

Alba responded after that. 

You always let Alexia get away with things you’d yell at me about. You can both apologize to me when you are ready.

You weren’t really sure how Alba had decided that you’d sided with Alexia, but you certainly were not going to be apologizing to her anytime soon. You left them both on read, figuring they’d make up before the gallery opening tomorrow night.

-------

You were up pretty much the entire night before the gallery. This time, not because anything needed to get done, but because you were nervous. You were thinking about everything that could possibly go wrong. By the time morning rolled around, you slept for maybe a couple hours, and created a decisive list of every bad thing that could happen today. 

You actually hadn’t thought of everything, but you wouldn’t know that until later. 

You’d passed out just as the sun had started to rise, and Eli came in to wake you up only a few hours later. 

“Nena, despierta,” she said softly, setting down a mug of coffee on your nightstand and shaking your shoulder. 

You bolted upright in bed, and looked around frantically, startling your mother. “Am I late?!” You gasped, moving to get out of your bed as fast as possible. 

“No, no, you aren’t late. It is only 11. Relax, mija, everything is okay.” Eli soothed, gently pushing you back down onto the bed. 

You let out a relieved sigh, rubbing at your face with your hands. “Sorry.” 

“Did you sleep at all?” Eli asked with a disapproving look. 

“Not much. I tried, I swear, I just couldn’t turn my brain off.” 

Your mother patted your cheek reassuringly. “You’re almost done, nena. It’s all going to go perfectly.” 

You nodded, trying to believe her words. You just had this weird, nagging feeling that something was going to go wrong. There wasn’t time to focus  on this feeling, though, no matter how much you wanted to. There was simply too much to be done. Accepting the hug your mother offered, you got up, ready to prepare yourself for the long day ahead.

-------

You didn’t really think anything of it when you didn’t see either of your sisters right away. You were busy greeting other people, family and friends. Some of Alexia’s teammates had made it, and you spent some time taking in the awestruck expression on Mapi’s face when she saw the singular photo of her included. 

That was the best part of the whole thing, you decided. Getting to see everyone’s reactions to seeing themselves up on the wall. 

The theme was people you loved, in their happy place. The project was joyful and fun, radiating happiness. Looking at the photos made you smile, and you were glad to see that everyone seemed to have the same reaction as they took their time looking at each image. 

You had Mapi giggling at something Ingrid had said, a candid taken after a Barça game. Ingrid was smiling back at her, like making her girlfriend laugh was the only thing she wanted to do for the rest of her life. 

You had your Mami, sitting in the stands of one of Alexia’s games, looking on with pride all over her face. You had her pinching Alba’s cheek, a fond smile on her face as your sister said something that was, no doubt, ridiculous. 

You had your aunts and your uncles around the dinner table, all laughing hysterically. 

You had your friends at the beach, all lounging and staring out into the ocean, looking peaceful. 

You had your best friend sitting in the driver's seat of her car, singing along passionately to her favorite song. 

More than anyone else, though, you had your sisters. 

Alexia preparing to take a penalty, determined. Celebrating with her teammates after a goal. Cheekily blowing a kiss to Olga in the stands. Smiling proudly at Vicki after an impressive goal. Proudly wearing the captain’s armband in front of a completely sold out stadium. Leaned against Olga on the couch after a movie night, out cold. She was completely peaceful, with Olga looking down at her adoringly. 

You had Alba at the school where she taught. Candids of her face, when one of her students got the answer right, or made her laugh. With her dog, holding him up at the aquarium, eye level with one of the dolphins. You had her watching Alexia play, too, a grin on her face that you were sure she was unaware of. Your favorite of Alba was a photo you’d taken in your Mami’s kitchen, while she’d been baking. Alba was sneaking a taste of the cake batter, and you’d captured her mid-wink, giving the camera a smile while Eli’s back was turned to her. 

They hadn’t seen any of these photos; you’d almost gone crazy not showing them, and not giving in to them when they begged to see.

 You’d finally managed to break away from a crowd of your friends, having a moment to yourself, when you realized that you still hadn’t seen your sisters yet. Ale’s teammates were here. Some of Alba’s friends were here. The whole family was here. You checked your watch, a frown on your face, seeing that they were both already over a half hour late, which was unlike both of them. It was only when you saw Olga looking up at one of the photos she was pictured in, all by herself, that you really got a sinking feeling in your stomach. She was talking to Irene when you walked over and interrupted, gently pulling Olga away from the conversation. 

“Where is Ale? Is she coming late?” You asked, confused by the sad look on Olga’s face. 

“No, nena, I’m sorry. She didn’t want to see Alba, so she decided not to come. I tried to convince her to, but she didn’t listen.” Olga said delicately. You looked like you’d been hit across the face, honestly, and Olga wanted nothing more than to march home and drag Alexia over here, but she knew better to try to convince the blonde to do something she had decided she wouldn’t. “She said she texted you?” 

You pulled your phone out, taking a deep breath when you saw almost identical texts from both of your sisters. 

Can’t make it tonight. I’ll come see it another time. Good luck! 

Sorry, hermanita, I can’t come tonight. Love you.

You had been so excited for them to see their pictures. There was a little note up on the wall, too, a statement thanking everyone for coming. In it, you mentioned being excited to allow your sisters to finally see the photos, as they’d been begging to for a while now. And they hadn’t come. 

A wave of embarrassment washed over you, your cheeks flushing red. You were angry, too, but you blinked your tears back, looking up at Olga and trying to look more put together than you felt. 

“No Alba either.” You said, your voice cracking slightly. 

“Oh, nena, I am so sorry.” Olga whispered, pulling you into a tight hug. It was too soft, and too comforting. You pulled away rapidly, shaking your head. 

“It’s fine. I don’t care.” You said, cutting the brunette off before she could say anything else. “I have to go talk to someone, thank you for coming, Olga.” 

You rushed away from your sister’s girlfriend, focusing on taking deep breaths. You couldn’t be sad, not right now. So many people had come here to celebrate you and your work, and you weren’t going to ruin it. You could be upset later. It was almost excruciating, pretending that you weren’t upset that your sisters hadn't come, but you managed it. You kept up a pretty good façade for the rest of the evening, even when you saw Olga speaking in hushed voices to Irene and Mapi, even when everyone kept asking where Ale and Alba were. You held it together. Because you, unlike them, could pretend that nothing was wrong for the sake of others. 

-------

Your mother knew you better than anyone. You should have been thrilled, ecstatic. Everything had gone so well. Your photos had been a hit, the owners of the gallery had been thrilled. She realized neither of her other daughters had shown up, but she assumed they had talked that through with you. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with you, but when you declined going out with some of your friends as the night came to an end, Eli knew something wasn’t right. 

She had every intention of letting you come to her, but you weren’t talking. As everyone began to file out of the gallery, saying their final goodbyes, Eli overheard you tell your friends you were going to go home because you were tired. You didn't say a single word to her aside from telling her that you’d see her at home, before you practically fled the building, heading for your car. She didn’t couldn’t imagine what was wrong, never expecting her daughters to have done what they did. Eli didn’t even think of them being a possible reason as to why you were upset. Mapi pulled her aside, though, before she could go after you, an infuriated look on her face. 

“Do you know what your daughters have done?” She asked quietly. 

Eli frowned. “No. What have they done?” 

Mapi shook her head. “They both bailed on tonight over text to pequeña. They are in some stupid fight that they’ve put her in the middle of, and they didn’t want to see each other, so they didn’t come.” 

Suddenly, Eli was quite furious at her eldest daughters. There would be hell to pay, she’d make sure of it. How could they be so selfish, and ruin your night like this? You’d been almost beside yourself for weeks about this night, and she knew the people you wanted to impress most were your sisters. And they hadn’t come. Before she yelled at them, though, she needed to go home to you, because she was very sure that you weren’t okay. Your odd behavior made sense, now, and Eli’s heart ached at the thought of you driving all by yourself while you were so upset. 

“I will deal with them.” Eli said quietly. “Thank you for telling me, María, and for coming. It meant a lot to her.” 

Mapi smiled sympathetically. “Of course. Let me know if you need help kicking some Putellas ass.” 

Eli chuckled. “I will.” 

She set off to her car after that, ignoring Alexia’s numerous phone calls. Likely, Olga had arrived home and laid into her for not coming, and Alexia was looking to be let off the hook from her Mami that she hadn’t messed up that badly. Eli wouldn’t be doing that. 

-------

You didn’t make it far into the house. In your new dress, one that was reminiscent of the dress Alexia had worn to win her first balon d’or, you’d collapsed onto the couch, harsh sobs ripping their way out of your chest. You cried until your makeup ran and your chest hurt. Until your Mami arrived home, rushing through the door, her heart breaking when she saw the state you were in. Eli was by your side instantly, pulling you into her arms. It was rare that a hug from your mother didn’t make you feel better, but this was the case today. You weren’t really sure that anything would help, but you still buried yourself into your Mami’s arms, wishing more than anything that she could fix this for you. 

“They didn’t come, Mami,” you sobbed. 

“I know, mija, I am so sorry.” 

“Am I not more important than their stupid fight?” You asked, looking up at your mother with a devastated expression on your face. “I was so excited for them to see, I just wanted them to be proud of me.” 

Eli felt anger fill her at a level she’d never quite felt before. “I am proud of you, cariño, so proud of you. It’s all going to be okay, I promise. Everything is going to be fine.” She soothed, running her hand through your hair, shushing you softly. Her fury would have to wait, until you stopped crying. Eli would always put you first when you needed it, even if your sisters didn’t. 

-------

It was late by the time you’d stopped crying and headed up to bed. With a soft goodnight to your Mami, you’d slumped upstairs, barely changing into your pajamas before you collapsed into your bed, absolutely exhausted. Being disappointed was tiring, apparently. And you were more disappointed than you’d ever been in your life. 

Downstairs, Eli waited until she heard your door shut before she pulled her phone out, returning one of the 15 missed calls from her eldest daughter. Alexia picked up quickly, her voice dripping with guilt.

“Mami, I-”

“No. Do not try to explain yourself. You and Alba have done a terrible thing, Alexia. I am not sure how you will make it up to your sister, but you will. You will figure out how to fix it, you will apologize, you will mean it.” 

“Sí, Mami.” Alexia said, her voice small like when she used to get scolded for kicking the football in the house or holding the tv remote high out of her sisters’ reach. 

“I am so disappointed, Alexia. In you and Alba both.”

“I know, Mami.” Alexia replied, blinking hard to fight off her tears. “I’ll fix it, Al and I will fix it.” 

“You will. Goodnight, Alexia. I love you.” Eli was furious, but she’d always say it, always make sure her daughters knew how loved they were. 

“I love you too Mami,” the blonde choked out, feeling worse about this than she’d ever felt about anything in her entire life. 

Eli called Alba next, who was significantly more clueless about the situation. Neither had known the other wasn’t going, but it was beyond your mother how either of her daughters could have underestimated how important to you this night was. Alba was in tears, like Alexia, by the end of the call, also promising her mother she’d fix it. 

Eli knew the level of guilt Alexia and Alba must have been feeling at the moment, considering how protective they were of you. They never wanted you to be hurt, but you were. And they were the reason why. As she checked on you, ensuring you were asleep, she knew that her older daughters would go to the ends of the earth to make this up to you. 

--------

Alba was sitting on her couch, willing herself to be the bigger person and pick up the phone to call Alexia, when she heard a knock at the door. The brunette knew who was there before she pulled it open, not flinching when her older sister was standing on her front porch. 

Alexia had a drink carrier in one hand, and two bags in the other, giving Alba an unreadable look. “Can I come in?” 

Alba nodded, stepping aside to let her sister in. The blonde headed for the living room, setting the coffees down, and grabbing hers out of the holder. Alba grabbed the other, noting that it was her favorite coffee, and her favorite breakfast pastry, from her favorite bakery. A bakery Alexia didn’t particularly like, but had clearly stopped at just for Alba. 

It was a peace offering. One that Alba took, grabbing the coffee and the pastry, sitting on the couch next to her sister in a much less tense silence. They made up in the way only sister’s could, with no words necessary for either of them to know that the other was sorry for what had been said. 

“We fucked up.” Alexia said after a minute, glancing at her sister. 

“We really did.” Alba replied. 

“We have to fix it.” Alexia declared. 

“We really do.” Alba agreed. 

“Are you going to keep agreeing with me, or are you going to come up with a solution here?” 

“As the one who started the fight that led to us letting our sister down, I think it should be you who solves the problem, Alexia.” Alba retorted, a smirk on her face. 

Her sister shook her head, shoving the brunette’s shoulder lightly. “You are supposed to be the smart one, hermana. Get thinking.” 

“New car?” 

“New house?”

“Can we buy her a country?”

They broke into laughter, the tension completely gone from the room, before they really got brainstorming. They were a good team when they weren’t fighting, and it wasn’t long before they’d come up with something that they hoped would make up for their horrible behavior. 

-------

The minute you saw Alexia’s car pull into the driveway from your spot on the couch, you were standing up, prepared to flee the room. You’d known this would happen at some point today, but you weren’t ready to see them. You felt so humiliated and so neglected, you were sure that seeing them would have you in tears, and you didn’t really want to show that emotion in front of them. Not now, not when they were the reason you were so upset. 

You knew how important family was to your mother, though, and you knew that if she told you to stay and talk to them, you would. Looking at her cautiously, you took in the wary expression on her face. 

“Do you want to hear them out, mija?” Eli asked gently. 

“No. I don’t want to see them right now. Please don’t make me.” You begged. 

“I won’t make you do anything. Go upstairs, I’ll tell you when they’re gone.” Eli sighed, and with her permission, you practically sprinted up the stairs to your room, closing and locking the door behind you. 

Your older sisters walked through the doors to the house like they were afraid of what awaited them inside, and it seems that they should have been. Eli stood from her chair, walking over to them, looking unimpressed at the large present in Alexia’s hands. 

“Hola Mami,” Alba greeted softly. They both wanted to make this up to you, of course, but they also hated when their mother was mad at them. 

“I do not think that buying her a present is going to fix this.” Eli said pointedly. Alexia and Alba exchanged nervous glances, relaxing slightly when Eli allowed them further into the house. “What is it?” 

“It’s the new camera. The brand new canon model that she wanted, with all the extra lenses and storage and stuff.” Alexia said, feeling less and less confident about how she and Alba had chosen to go about this. 

“And you think that is enough?” Eli asked bluntly. 

“It’s a start.” Alba said, a bit defensively. “We know we messed up, Mami, and we missed the opening night but we can go see it today. Are you not being a little dramatic about this?” 

Alexia shot her younger sister a look, knowing exactly how hurt you were, because Olga had returned home from the gallery and told her. 

“You did not see her last night. When she realized you weren’t coming? She completely shut down. She talked to everyone she needed to, but I did not see her smile the rest of the night. She rushed out of the building just as the evening ended, and by the time I got home, she was sitting on the couch, sobbing. It was supposed to be her night, and you ruined it.” Eli snapped. 

Alexia and Alba both looked appropriately ashamed, their heads dropping, gazes pointed at the floor in an almost identical fashion. They felt guilty, obviously, but Eli wasn’t quite sure they understood that it wasn’t just about them missing your event. It was so much more than that. 

“She asked me why she is not more important to both of you than an argument. I do not want to spoil the gallery, but I do not think you understand how embarrassing it was for her to have countless photos of you two up on the wall, when you did not even come.” 

Both her daughters’ heads snapped up at this. “Of us?” Alba asked. “The project was of us?” 

“It was about her loved ones. You two were featured more than anyone else. She was so excited to see your reactions to the photos.” Eli continued, only making them feel worse. 

“Please, Mami, I cannot hear anymore.” Alexia said softly, her heart aching at the thought of how upset you must be at the moment. Every detail that her mother added made it worse. She wasn’t sure she’d ever done anything like this to you before, and the thought that you might not forgive her was filling her with anxiety. 

“No, you will hear all of it.” Eli said, shaking her head. “She said to me, ‘I was so excited for them to see, I just wanted them to be proud of me.’” 

“We are proud of her, she has to know that.” Alba cut in desperately. Her mother just shook her head. 

“She does not. Nothing she ever does feels very important to either of you, because it is always something you have done before. This was something that was her own, and she just wanted to share it with you. Everything your sister does is so that you two will be proud of her, and pay attention to her.” 

At this, Alexia stood up from the couch, walking over to the window and putting her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with silent cries, and neither her mother or her sister were very surprised at the emotional outburst. Alexia was always emotional when it came to you; she remembered the day you’d been born, every milestone in your life. You were your very tough sister’s soft spot. 

“Do you think we can fix it?” Alba asked quietly, terrified of her mother’s answer. 

With a deep sigh, Eli nodded her head. Alexia turned around hopefully, hanging on to Eli’s every word. “Your baby sister has always been more forgiving than both of you. She is hurt, but she will forgive you. She loves you both too much not to.” 

Every word Eli said felt like a bullet to the chest to both of your sisters, something your mother was well aware of. She wasn’t going to sugar coat this. It was silent in the room for several minutes, every member of the family lost in thought. Alexia looked furious with herself, Alba looked like she was close to tears, and Eli just looked disappointed. She’d always trusted your sisters to take care of you when she couldn’t, but she wasn’t so sure she had that confidence in them anymore. 

“I have an idea.” Alexia said finally, looking between her mother and her sister hesitantly. They both agreed to what she proposed, though, and it wasn’t long before Eli had pulled out some paper and pens for her daughters. They both sat on the floor around the coffee table and got writing. It was reminiscent of when they’d do their homework in the same spot years ago, sitting on the floor so they could play with you while they finished their assignments. 

Now, though, you were painfully absent from the scene in front of your mother, and Eli could only hope that this would work. 

-------

Alexia and Alba agreed that only one of them would go upstairs, give you the two pieces of paper, and let you be for the evening. Alexia was desperate to see you, while Alba wasn’t sure she could do so without crying, and she didn’t particularly want to put that on you at the moment. You hated seeing your sisters upset, and she didn’t want to inadvertently guilt you into forgiving her before you were ready. So, Alexia made her way upstairs, agreeing to Eli’s warnings to leave you alone if you wouldn’t let her in. 

Her knock on your door was uncharacteristically gentle, and her voice was almost shaky as she announced herself. 

“Nena? Can I come in for a minute?” 

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door, feeling rather satisfied to see the guilt all over her face. 

Alexia stepped into the room, looking so nervous and so unlike herself. She was fidgeting with two pieces of paper in her hands, barely able to bring herself to look you in the eye. “I am so sorry, hermanita. More sorry than I can put into words.” She didn't seem to know what else to say, and you rolled your eyes. 

“Do you think that is enough?” You asked. 

Alexia shook her head rapidly. “No, I know it isn’t. Alba and I are going to fix this, nena, I promise. Whatever we have to do, whatever it takes. We will make this up to you. There is nothing more important to us than you.” 

Your eldest sister could tell you didn’t believe her, the way you looked away from her was a dead giveaway. 

“I know you are upset, and that is okay. I just… can I give you a hug, nena? You can still be mad at me and everything. I’d just really like an hermanita hug.” Alexia said vulnerably, tears clouding her vision. She had underestimated how painful it would be to see you so upset with her, but her chest truly ached as she took in the betrayal and disappointment on your face. A few tears fell from her eyes, and it was this bit of emotion that had you nodding your head, stepping forward as Alexia wrapped her arms around you almost painfully tight. 

It made you feel better, even though it probably shouldn’t have. Your sister’s hugs always felt warm and safe, and today was no exception. Even though she’d hurt you. It was still Alexia, and she was a hard person to stay mad at. Still, you pulled away before you wanted to, and the blonde cleared her throat, holding out the pieces of paper for you. 

“From me and Alba. We will be downstairs, if you want to talk.” Your sister opened and closed her mouth a few times, before shaking her head, mustering a weak smile, and leaving the room. She shut the door behind her, something she never did, always insisting on leaving it open just to bother you. 

You opened your sisters’ letters, not quite sure what you would be reading. You weren’t quite angry anymore, just sad. You were never one to hold a grudge, but you weren’t sure how they were going to be able to make this stop hurting. 

You underestimate, however, how well your sisters knew you, and combined with the information they had from Eli, they knew just what to say. You read both the letters a few times, tears streaming down your face for what felt like the 12th time that day. This time, though, they were good tears. 

Both letters were similar, but very… specific to each of your sisters. 

Alexia’s was practically a bullet pointed list, in her messy, big handwriting. There was a mark on the page that looked suspiciously like a teardrop, and Alexia talked about her emotions in the letter the way she always did in real life; saying as little as possible, while still somehow saying a whole lot. 

Alba’s was a real letter, paragraph after paragraph of neat writing, beautifully articulating what she wanted to say to you. It was always a bit surprising to remember how perceptive Alba was. She was a forgetful person, but not when it came to the things that mattered. This was clear in the letter, as she listed small details out that you hadn’t thought she’d noticed. 

Both of the letters were an apology. An apology, and a deep dive into how proud of you Alexia and Alba were. They apologized for not making it clear, before going back to when you were a baby, and they watched you walk for the first time. Through the years, they had overlapping and different memories of things you’d done that made them swell with pride. There were things you remembered, and things you didn’t, but they made you feel special all the same. Alexia and Alba did pay attention, that much was clear. Even if they weren’t always the best at showing it, they paid attention to you. 

It did more than a verbal apology could have ever done. It was something tangible, kind, warm and loving. It made you feel loved, and seen. It made you feel like you mattered. You weren’t Alexia, and you weren’t Alba, but you were you, and they felt that to be something much more special. 

You tried to hold out a bit longer, you really did, but you were putting the letters down and rushing downstairs before you could really stop yourself. 

You passed the kitchen on the way to the living room, where your Mami was preparing dinner, a small, relieved smile on her face. Wishing you had something funny and unbothered to say, you walked into the room, seeing your sisters sitting on the couch, looking pathetically distraught. 

“Hola.” You said softly, feeling indescribably happy when both of their faces lit up at the sight of you, and you quickly crossed the room, wedging yourself in between them. They made room for you, as they always did, allowing you to fit easily into your spot squished with Alexia on one side, and Alba on the other. 

They each wrapped an arm around you, and both tried to pull you in opposite directions. It was ironic, the way they used you to play a silly game of tug of war. This time, however, they stopped pulling when they realized neither of them would win. Instead, they both wrapped you into a very awkward and suffocating hug, arms wrapped around you from seemingly every direction. 

“I love you, nena.” Alexia whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. 

Alba did the same to your cheek. “I am so sorry, hermanita, and I love you so much,” she whispered. 

“I know.” You said softly. “I forgive you.”  

And if it had been either of them in your position, it would have taken a lot more. You were the forgiving sister, though, and you’d really just needed proof that your sisters thought that you were as important as you felt them to be. 

When Eli came in the room a few minutes later, it was to see the three of you in a rather familiar position; you in the middle, each of your sisters holding on to as much of you as they could, completely content. They’d always like to hold you like that, starting when you were a baby. Alexia would carefully put you on the couch in between them, and put a movie on. They would take turns telling you all the important details your brain was far too small to comprehend, but you didn’t squirm, and you didn’t fuss. You would stay plopped right in between them, one of each of their fingers gripped tight in your hands. 

It was a lot different now, because you were all bigger. It looked like an uncomfortable pile of limbs on the couch, but Eli knew you were all as comfortable as you’d ever get. 

-------

Neither of your sisters seemed very willing to let you out of their sight anytime soon, which you were sure would grow annoying very fast. For now, though, you enjoyed the attention, especially when Alexia pushed the wrapped box that had been sitting on the table into your hands. 

And, you’d already forgiven them before you’d seen the camera they’d bought you, one that you’d been desperately wanting for a while. If you hadn’t forgiven them, though, you would have now. You could be bought, and your sisters were well aware of it. As was your Mami. She rolled her eyes as you stared in awe at the camera, as Alexia and Alba looked on proudly, sharing a discreet fist bump. Personally, Eli thought you’d let them off kind of easy, but she shouldn’t have underestimated you. You were a youngest child, and you knew how to get what you wanted. 

“Can we go see your photos after dinner?” Alba asked, not even getting a glance from you, your attention completely zeroed in on the camera in your hands. 

“Nope.” You replied. Alexia and Alba looked uneasily at each other, and then at their Mami for guidance, before you spoke again. “Alexia, you are going to clean my room. And Alba, you are going to make me those cookies I like. We can go see the gallery tomorrow.” 

Your face was smug, and your mother stifled a laugh as your sisters looked disgruntled at each other. Begrudgingly, though, they both nodded. 

“Anything for the princess.” Alexia mumbled, and Alba snickered quietly. 

“What was that?” You asked, turning your attention to your sisters. They looked at you in defiance, smirks on both of their faces, not willing to let you completely walk all over them, even if they deserved it. 

“You heard me.” Alexia teased. “The baby princess always gets her way.” 

“Really, Ale?” You asked calmly, before turning to Eli, your new camera briefly forgotten on the table in front of you. “Mami, do you have any plans in two weekends? I was thinking we could take a trip just the two of-” 

Alexia cut you off by rather aggressively throwing herself at you, covering your mouth with her hand. “NO HERMANITA!” The blonde shouted. “Oh, gross, nena, really?” She groaned, pulling her hand away when you licked it. You smiled triumphantly, managing to push away from her a bit. 

“You are not a princess, nena. Just a little baby.” Alba chimed in, reaching over from her chair to pinch your cheek in one hand. “Now keep quiet before you ruin the surprise and give Ale a stroke.” 

Your mother shook her head, taking pity on her eldest daughter, who looked prepared to explode at the thought of the surprise being ruined. “Do you think I do not know you were planning a trip for the four of us, Alexia? Honey, you asked me several times if I was free that weekend, and reminded me not to make any plans then either. You also asked me for hotel recommendations, and pretended it was for you and Olga. You are a bad liar, mija. I have known for weeks.” Eli laughed. 

Alexia frowned, shoving you and Alba both away from her as you both collapsed into giggles, despite the fact that this was entirely her fault, and you and Alba were blameless. She knew there was teasing coming her way, but the smile on your face was well worth it. Order had been restored, and both of your sisters had made promises to themselves, and to each other, to not let their arguments hurt you anymore. You were just happy to have them both there, at home. All four of you together, how it was supposed to be. 

-------

it will really always be funny to me that my sister and i do not say the words "i'm sorry" to each other. like we'd both rather die than apologize. she could hit me with her car and i wouldn't want her to apologize because... ew. anyway sometimes having a sister is cool and sometimes its not but i love mine.

everyone applaud me for not splitting this into two parts. seriously i am astounded at myself right now.

hope you all like it :) give me all your thoughts.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #alexia putellas x reader #putellas!reader #platonic reader

[fangirl-dot-com]

🪡The Obvious String

*part of the reverse trope series*

Paring: Lestappen x MercedesDriver!Reader Genre: SMAU/Fluff/Humor Summary: The invisible string was so visible that everyone missed it but them. What are they? Rivals? Friends? Emotional Support Buddies? But they can't be lovers . . . can they?

*I took a lot of inspo from people on twitter. I think this is the most work I've ever done for a chapter before. the tweets alone took almost two hours to do. I absolutely love lestappen so this is super self-indulgent. but that's why I'm a writer. I hope you all enjoy!*

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Lando knew that there was something between the three of them. 

Anyone could see that. Instagram, twitter, TikTok, hell even the Formula 1 app was talking about it. The grid was getting very suspicious, but who could blame them. 

Max wasn’t putting out the fire by pulling his two childhood friends in as they posed for pictures. Charles couldn’t help but flash his God-given dimples at the Dutchman or the Briton girl. And Y/n, she was just as bad, blush on her cheeks every moment she was around them. 

So yeah, everyone was talking. But, no one truly knew what exactly was going on. 

And that’s exactly what Lando was going to find out. (With the help of his fellow 16 drivers.)

His first victim: the French bestie of the non-French man. 

“I have no clue what is going on between the three,” was the first thing that came out of Pierre’s mouth when Lando showed up to his driver’s room door. The poor McLaren driver hadn’t even gotten a word out. 

Lando rolled his eyes. “You have to know something. And you call yourself Charles’s best mate.” 

Pierre threw his hands up. “Non, apparently that is Y/n and Max. I’ve been kicked to the side.” 

The Alpine driver definitely wasn’t bitter or anything. He was actually thankful that you and Max had been able to keep an eye on Charles when he couldn’t. Knowing that the Monegasque had frequent delf-deprecating thoughts, he felt better that he had the two of you. 

Pierre turned to Lando. “Aren’t you supposed to Max’s best friend as well? How would I know something that you don’t.” 

Now that made Lando’s brows furrow. He was supposed to be Max’s best friend. And maybe that’s why he felt a bit peeved to not know what was supposedly going on between you, him, and Charles. His arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“I’m going to get to the bottom of this,” he muttered, turning away to the door. 

The Frenchman scoffed. “Good luck mate. We’ve been trying since 2019.” 

“We?” 

Lewis was not expecting the numerous knocks at his door during media day. The Briton held his breath, willing the unexpected visitors to give up and go away. Yet, a sigh left his lips once the knocking started up again. He pulled himself off of his couch and walked over. 

When the door swung in, two bodies brushed against his side. 

His eye brows raised. “Yes, welcome. Come right in. Oh, thank you Lewis for allowing us to disturb your peace.” 

Lando chewed his lip. “Yeah, thanks man.” 

Pierre took a look around the room. “Thank you Lewis.” 

The papaya clad driver took a seat exactly where Lewis’s had been sitting, which cause Lewis to glare at him. 

“And why are the two of you here?” 

Pierre huffed, looking at the pictures on Lewis’s wall. 

“Ask him.” A finger pointed at Lando, making the Briton look up from his phone. 

“Oh yeah. Do you know. . . ”

Once again, Lando couldn’t even finish his sentence because Lewis interrupted him. 

“No, I don’t know what’s going on between Y/n, Max, and Charles. Honestly Lando, no one knows and I don’t think they know either.” 

Lando leaned his head back and groaned. 

“But how could they not? They all make goo-goo eyes at each other. And it’s worse on the podium.” 

“At least you haven’t bit on the podium with two-thirds of the groups. It’s insufferable man. They can’t go without talking about each other for more than a few moments.”

A laugh left Pierre’s lips. “Oh yeah. It’s always ‘Y/n was so strong on corner 2’ or ‘Pierre, did you see how Max overtook Checo?’ And then ‘Oh Charles was told to stay behind again. He really needs to ignore them.’ It makes me want to puke every time.” 

Lando scratched his chin. “Now that I’m thinking about it, you’re right. It was like how Max and Charles completely ignored me in China. They kept looking at Y/n below!” 

The last few words had a slight whine to them. Charles had been quick enough to catch Checo on the last lap, and placed himself in P3 after Lando. 

The Alpine driver looked lost. “Lewis, you’ve been Y/n’s teammate for almost three years. How can you not know anything.” 

All he got was a glare back. 

“Like I said, Gasly, I don’t even think they know something is going on. It’s pathetic honestly.” 

Lando put his head in his hands. “She must be pining. Don’t you two do girls night or at least something like that?” 

“Lando, she spends all her free moments with Max and Charles. How can she be pining to me if she doesn’t leave their side.” 

It was quite for a moment before Lando snapped. 

“I’ve got it. If we want grid gossip, we got to go to the source.” 

“No Lando, I don’t know if Max, Charles, and Y/n are in a secret relationship. And I don’t think they think of each other like that.” 

The groan that Lando let out was so loud it made a couple of people look their way. George, the tall, lanky Briton was set to take Lewis’s seat for 2025 after two years in Williams. The driver pool was going crazy. 

Logan was returning to Formula 1 with HAAS after a brief sabbatical and would be a teammate pair with Oliver Bearman. Nico and Daniel of all people were going to Audi. Liam was set to take the second Red Bull seat. And Carlos, well, no one really knew, but rumors said that he was going to return with Audi when they caught up with the regulations in 2027. 

The McLaren driver was close to pulling his curls out. 

“But George.” 

Lando was now full on whining. George seemed exasperated and shrugged. 

“We’re not that close anyway. We aren’t even teammates yet. And you knew how she yelled at me that one time that my car scraped a hole in Max’s car.” 

The group of four winced at the memory. 

Max had just finished yelling at George, calling him every name under the sun. And then you had shown up to double it. The Williams, well, now Mercedes driver, was thankful that Charles had shown up to drag the two of you away. 

Lewis looked a bit pale. 

“Yeah. I don’t think she’s fully forgiven me for Silverstone 2021.” 

Lando turned to Lewis. “But they were all still fighting at that point. Remember the whole unfollowing they did in 2019?” 

Pierre snorted. “Of course we remember. That doesn’t mean that they didn’t still care about each other. You know that Charles and Y/n were the first ones to congratulate Max after he won the championship in Abu Dhabi. And then her and Max practically tackled Charles in Japan in 2022. I don’t even want to imagine when Y/n wins her championship.”  

Lando ran a hand down his face. 

“Well, if Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis and George don’t know. Then who would?” 

George cocked his head. 

“Have you asked Daniel? You know that he and Max are pretty close.” 

Lando’s eyes widened. “Why did I not think of that. George I could kiss you!” 

George’s face scrunched. “No thank you. I don’t want to be anywhere near your lips.” 

Lewis was already at the door, wanting to get a move on. “Let’s go. George you’re coming too. If we get to the bottom of this, you’re going to have to learn how to deal with all three.” 

A shudder ran down George’s spine. He did not want to imagine the horror of sharing a podium with all of them. He’s heard enough stories. 

When they got to Daniel’s motorhome, the Australian was peacefully talking with Oscar. Lando had run up to them and was currently hunched over, trying to catch his breath. 

“Do,” inhale, “you two,” exhale, “know if,” inhale and heave, “there’s something,” exhale, “going on,” inhale, “with. . .”

Daniel sighed. “Max, Charles, and Y/n?” 

Lando shot up, eyes full of hope. Lewis nodded next to him. 

“Yes! Do you?” 

The older Aussie wanted to smirk as he saw hope fill the group’s faces. He nodded a bit, and Lando looked like someone told him that his birthday and Christmas had come early. 

“No.” 

The McLaren driver fell to the ground. Pierre smacked Daniel on the shoulder. 

“Why would you do that!” 

Now Lewis was the one whining. 

“Because it was funny. Mate, they’ve been like this since Max joined in 2018. Even then, it was worse than whatever this is.” 

The Mercedes driver of the group let out another groan for what felt like the millionth time in that hour. 

“Max was insufferable in 2018. Taking his sim everywhere so that he could game and race with them online. And the multiple phone calls. I think Max partied harder for Charles’s F2 champion win and Y/n’s F3 championship than his first race win.” 

“Ok, but that’s kind of cute.” 

All eyes landed on Oscar. 

The younger Aussie’s eyes bulged. “What?” 

Daniel pointed a finger at him. “If Max hears you say cute in any way, shape, or form that is distinctly near his name, he will come after you.”  

An audible gulp was heard. 

Lando had begun to pace. “Well, if I don’t know, Pierre doesn’t know, Lewis doesn’t know, George doesn’t know, Oscar doesn’t know, and Daniel doesn’t know, then who would know?”

Everyone looked a little lost. 

“Aha!” 

The two papaya drivers jumped out of reflex. Lando’s head turned violently toward Lewis. 

“What!” 

He held his phone up with a contact showing. 

“We call Seb.” 

“Lewis, like I’ve told you. Charles hasn’t told me anything.” 

For the sake of everyone around in the paddock, they held in their groans. 

“But Seb, you were practically Charles’s grid-dad. You have to know something!” Daniel said, face nearly in Lewis’s phone, as if Sebastian could hear him better. 

A sigh was heard through the speaker. 

“Charles was nothing less than a terror in 2019. I think the calmest anyone has seen him was 2018 when his car didn’t go fast enough for him to catch anyone.” 

Lewis hummed. “That’s true.” 

“Because everyone there should know that 2019 was the year of them. Every headline was all about them. And don’t get me started on when they had that big fight. I had to hear everything about it every. single. weekend.” 

Daniel nodded. “It was the same with Max. If Fernando was here, he could say the same for Y/n since she was still racing with Alpine at the time.” 

Oscar had completely forgotten about Fernando being Y/n’s teammate for half a season before she made the jump to Williams to replace Kubica to race alongside Nicholas Latiffi. The young Aussie had looked up to the older female when he was making the decision to leave Alpine. She had personally congratulated him on the move and gave him a wink. Well, had tried to before Max and Charles dragged her away. 

Sebastian had gone quiet over the phone. 

“Has anyone actually asked them if they’re together or not? Instead of just asking everyone else about a matter that deeply involves the three of them?” 

Their silence had answered for them. 

Lando grabbed Lewis’s phone out of his hand. 

“Thank you Seb! We’ll get right on it!” 

“Hey!” 

It was too late and Lando had already hung up and was passing the phone back to his fellow Briton. 

“Guys, we can’t ask them.” 

“What!” Pierre yelled. 

“Think about it. If we just go and ask, they’re going to make excuses. We won’t get a right answer.” 

“Lando, you’re being unreal. Let’s just go ask them,” George said. 

“Ask them what?” 

The six of them jumped out of their skin at the new arrival of a familiar voice. Lando froze before slowly turning around, to come face to face with you, Charles, and Max, all looking cozy for media day. 

“Uh, nothing?” Lando squeaked out, eyes darting around so he wouldn’t have to look at the trio. 

Max snorted. “Doesn’t sound like nothing to me.” 

He took a sip of his Red Bull. 

Daniel looked panicked. “We were just wanting to ask, uh, Lewis and Nico if they had forgiven each other yet?” 

“Hey!” 

Charles raised his eyebrows. “Why do you seem so unsure? And Lewis is right there mate. Kind of rude to talk about his problems in front of him.” 

“Thank you Charles.” 

The Monegasque hummed as he turned to Max. His mouth dropped. 

“Max, I thought I told you to stop drinking that stuff. It’s bad for your heart.” 

The Dutchman shrugged and took another sip, just to spite the Ferrari driver. You rolled your eyes, knowing a playfight was just around the corner. 

Oscar’s eyes narrowed as he looked over the trio’s choice of outfits. 

“Y/n, are those Charles’s cloud pants? Charles is that Max’s cap? And Max is that Charles’s Monza hoodie.” 

The arguing that was beginning to build between the two male drivers suddenly stopped. Your eyes widened as you jerked your head toward them. 

Sure enough, Charles’s hat was not bright red and it had the number 1 on it, something that Charles lost to Max in 2023. You leaned back to look at the hoodie Max was wearing, and indeed it had the iconic podium scene on the back of it. The two males looked toward your pants. The bright white clouds seemed to stare back at them. 

“Uh, yes?” you asked. “But we share clothes all the time. It’s not a big deal.” 

Max and Charles nodded before Charles was hit with a thought. 

“Oh, chéri, I forgot to tell you that your dry cleaning was picked up a few hours ago and is back at the hotel,” he said as he looked at his phone, completely missing the six pairs of wide eyes that were now looking at him. 

Max smirked as he leaned over and kissed the top of Charles’s head. 

“Thank you schatje.” 

This time, a whine came from you. 

“I’m being left out,” you muttered, crossing your arms. However, the two were not having it and quickly brought you into their arms. 

Lando stared, blinked, and stared some more before he rubbed his eyes. He completely believed that the three would disappear when his hands lowered, but he caught Max in the middle of kissing your lips. 

“WHAT?” 

You turned back to the group. 

“Are you all fine?” 

Lewis threw his hands up. “I’m done. Call me when we need to go to the media.” 

The door opened quickly, allowing Lewis to slip out. 

Pierre looked a bit pale. “What? When? Where? Why?”

Charles shrugged. “We’re together. After my championship. The hotel. We love each other.” 

Daniel sighed. “So you’ve been together since 2022?” 

Max rolled his eyes. “No.” 

“But Charles just said his championship!” Oscar explained, hands outstretched. 

It was your turn to smile. “His F2 championship. We’ve been together since 2017.” 

A long sigh came from Lando. “I think I need to sit down.” 

Daniel’s door swung back open, revealing Lewis once again. He also seemed out of breath. His hands were on his knees for a bit until he straightened back up. 

“You’re telling me that you three have been together SINCE 2017!” 

You nodded. “Yes.” 

Pierre pouted. “But what about 2019?” 

The three of you winced in a synchronized matter. With a quick look, Max was the one to sigh. His hands dug into the front pocket of the cozy, black hoodie. 

“Long story short, we took a small break until Y/n won in Brazil. We all got our heads out of our asses and apologized.” 

Oscar rose an eyebrow. “Then why haven’t you followed each other back on Instagram.”

A snort from you made the two men chuckle. You simply shrugged your shoulders. 

“Too lazy? We don’t feel like breaking the internet.” 

Lando took a seat on Daniel’s couch. “Why haven’t you told anyone?” 

Charles ran a hand over his face. “Lando, we race in countries where people are killed for being homosexual. We can’t risk anything.” 

The air suddenly took a solemn turn as the McLaren driver nodded, truly taking in the situation. Charles chewed his lip in anxiety, while Max picked at his fingers. You were looking at the group. 

“You won’t tell anyone right?” 

Suddenly, everyone felt bad for wanting to find out. They had pushed the three to confess something that they might not have wanted people to know about at that time. What a group of friends they were. 

Lando hung his head. “We won’t. I’m sorry that we asked about it before you three were obviously ready to tell someone.” 

Another snort left Charles’s lips as his hand rested on his mouth. Max had a shit-eating grin on his face, you had one to match. 

Pierre looked at them with a skeptical expression. “Something to tell us?” 

Max’s shoulders raised. “People know. You aren’t the first ones to know.” 

Lewis sighed, shoulder sagging. George put a hand on the older Briton’s shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. Lando looked close to losing it. His hazel eyes narrowed at the trio. 

“Then . . . who knows?” 

Charles’s eyes looked up a bit as he started to count. 

“Uh, Christian, Fred, Toto, Kimi.” 

You pulled out his fingers and counted.  

“Jensen, Mark, uh, Nico.” 

Lewis looked like he wanted to pass out. 

Max smirked. 

“Oh, and Seb.” 

There was silence amongst the group. 

“Oh he is so dead.” 

“Lando you can’t kill Seb!” 

“Sorry Lewis, but this is his fault!” 

“Calm down Lando. You’ll lose your seat.” 

“Oscar, I just want to talk to Seb. Who has his phone number?” 

“I am not giving you his number Lando.” 

“I’m not asking you Lewis. Daniel, I know you have it.” 

You smiled in Max and Charles’s arms as Lando started to get physical, trying to grab Daniel’s phone. 

You leaned up, immediately being engulfed in Max’s aftershave. “Should we stop them?” 

Charles leaned a bit forward to look at his two lovers. A soft smile formed on his face, before a smirk replaced it. 

“Nah.” 

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[kafkasmuses]

KITTY KAT — art donaldson + reader : art has a tendency to show up late to your lessons. 

tags: mdni, tennis lessons, coach!art donaldson, p in v sex, fingering, art is kind of an asshole, cheating (not on reader) 

a/n: sorry to tashi… this goes out to my dear @murdrdocs

thirty minutes ago. 

art donaldson was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago, your teeth grit against each other, foot tapping impatiently against the concrete floor below you. 

art was a sweet guy, sure, but his time management was beyond infuriating. it almost made you feel like he thought himself above you, like you weren’t worth his time. 

“one to talk,” you mumble to yourself, dragging your racket on the ground, “rich from the guy who was coached by his wife.” 

ahem. 

you spin around, and of course, he’s standing right there, looking the same as he always does. his dirty blonde hair was messed up and falling over his eyebrows, blue eyes, with a mix of brown, staring directly at you with an almost amused expression. 

you blink at him, once, twice. 

a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, “sorry for being late.” 

it sounds condescending, like he would never actually mean it, especially not after what he heard, it felt like a sort of karma for what you were previously saying about him. 

and he knows that, of course he does, so he masks it with a sense of sweetness, one that would typically gaslight people into thinking they’ve been forgiven, but you know better. 

you’ve been coached by art for a while now, and his little habits became far too predictable. this was odd, though, you couldn’t make out the glint in his eye, especially when you mumble a, “sorry, i didn’t mean—“  

“let’s get started, yeah?” art cuts in, bitter, yet his voice still sounded like it was dipped in honeysuckle.

he whisks right past you with that same, tugged up smirk, he reeked of rich cologne and mint. 

your lips press together and you silently, albeit ashamed, nod in agreement. 

maybe silence will earn points back from your coach. 

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾

silence did not earn anything. 

art served hard, hit the ball hard, it was as if he wanted to make the ball break through your racket and hit you square in the face. he clearly took your miniscule words personally, and he was testing you, trying to break you down, to see how much you could take until your bones turned soft and you felt like giving up. 

the first time you called a pause, art smiled, “don’t tell me you’re giving up.” 

“pause,” you repeat through heaved breaths, sweat sticking to your skin underneath the relentless sun. art had that same playful look in his eyes that he always did, he knew that what he was doing was working, he knew that he was getting under your skin, and as cruel as it sounds, he really did enjoy it. 

if you ever were to ask him about it, he’d just shrug and say it’s all a part of the practice, it always happens in tennis, especially professional, he’s just preparing you. but deep down, he really just wanted to say that he was doing it for those reasons but for his own personal pleasures, karma comes in many forms, but art picks the harshest form first. 

he watches you drink water with a desperate urgency, stifling his own chuckles, “you sure you’re okay?” 

“‘m fine,” you speak after gulping down the last drop, finally satisfied, “let’s keep going.” 

art’s brows furrow ever so slightly, but as soon as you’re back to being ready, he rolls the tennis ball in his hand a little, observing it, before throwing it up in the air and sending it your way. he’s so casual with every hit, despite his grunts and the way his nose scrunches whenever ball meets racket, he makes it look like it’s nothing. 

to make it even worse, he starts trying to conversate between passes, “you know—“ smack! another grunt leaves his lips, “it’s really rude to—“ smack! “speak about people behind their—“ smack! “fuck.. backs.” 

you’re so busy trying to decipher his words you almost miss the next hit, but thankfully you snap out of the trance quick enough to hit it last minute, which he chuckles at and quickly sends it back. 

smack! “‘m sorry, art, really—“ your shoes scratch against the concrete below, smack! “i was being very—“ smack! “childish, i apologize.” 

he hums, content with your apologies, but still not outwardly saying he forgives you, instead his hits start to soften, he’s less trying to kill you with the ball and now rather trying to actually play tennis. “you’re all good—“ he confirms, smack! “just make it up to me, yeah?” 

ball meets floor, his words had completely caught you off guard, and you missed your hit on the ball he sent your way. you felt almost stupid, standing there, staring at him and trying to decipher what he meant by making it up to him. 

and of course, he didn’t elaborate, he never did, he simply just picked up another ball, smiled at you, and said, “ready?” 

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾

art said he forgave you, right? 

ever since that day, he’s been acting.. off. he was more focused on your figure now, not in a crude way, but in a way where he wanted you to position yourself correctly when playing. he watches you serve the ball, then his tongue prods at the inside of his cheek and he stands, “hey, hey, wait a second— your uh… your stance is wrong.” 

“it is?” it was the fifth time he’s corrected you, today, and it’s safe to say you were getting annoyed, he picked up on the bitterness of your tone as he approached you. 

“‘ts not my fault, kitty cat,” he shrugged simply, noticing the way your eyes narrow in frustration at his nickname, he only smiles. he leans in behind you, “may i?” his hands are ghosting over your arms from behind. 

“whatever helps,” you remark. 

“good,” it’s softly spoken at the shell of your ear, making you swallow thick, his fingers wrap around your wrist, other one holding your fingers grip on the racket’s handle. his grip is tight, yet gentle at the same time, veins flexing against his flesh with every movement as he helps you move into the right position. “just gotta.. do it like this,” he’s still whispering against your ear, nearly making your knees buckle. 

once he’s satisfied with your position, which is far too quick for your liking, he backs off and lets you serve the ball again. he smiles once he’s gotten what he’s wanted, “perfect.” 

eventually, after a while of hitting the ball, you decided to take a break. there was a silence between you and art, a tension you couldn’t place, you had nothing to blame it on, nothing to apologize for, and he constantly looked like he was trying to say something indescribable. 

“hey,” he starts, before tugging his bottom lip under his tongue for a mere second before continuing, “remember when i said you had to make it up to me?” 

you stare at him, curious, “yeah, of course.” 

“you know,” his hands smooth over each other, skin underneath his right eye twitching as his pupils dilate in thought, “i’ve been having a.. problem, lately.” 

“with tennis?” 

“nono,” he laughs nervously, moving to scratch the back of his neck, “it’s personal, y’know? well— not entirely, since ‘m telling you, but uh— actually, nevermind.” 

𝜗𝜚 ⊹ ‧₊˚ 🎾

you and art hadn’t discussed much after the last meet, you found yourself standing in the court yet again, whilst he was no short of an hour late at this point. you wanted to ask him what his deal is lately, what his problem is, but he wasn’t even here to be questioned. it was almost ridiculous, like he was toying with you. 

“i like your skirt,” it comes out of nowhere, but it’s the same, smooth voice that art holds. 

yet again, you find yourself spinning around to meet him, he’s closer, now, clearly eyeing you— but that’s.. weird, is it not? he has a wife, he shouldn’t be complimenting your obviously short skirt, or eyeing you like that, or wishing to tell you things that he had apparently not told anyone else because it’s personal. but who are you to question his relationship? maybe he’s just.. being nice, really. 

“thank you,” you offer, nice, short, sweet. 

he rolls his shoulder, meeting your eyes, flickering his gaze to your lips for a mere second, then saying nothing and walking by. rich cologne and mint. that’s what wafts into your senses immediately, as if it was some sort of distraction from his odd behaviors. 

“do you always call people kitty cat?” you eventually ask him, it was something you’d been wondering, truly, especially since you’ve never been called that before. 

“to pretty girls with an attitude, yeah,” art says it so casually. 

“like your wife?” 

“like you.” 

art corrected you. 

he corrected you, and his correction didn’t annoy you like how they always did, it made your stomach churn in a way you couldn’t decipher, you couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. you liked it, maybe, but isn’t that so sickening? art seems to think no big deal of his own words, as he doesn’t even react, so you try to be nonchalant about it as well. 

the whole entire test match you play with him, he has a certain glint in his eye, his grunts are louder, his shorts look tighter, he looks like he’s having some sort of reaction to playing tennis, to playing tennis with you. your tongue runs along your lips between breaks, noticing the way his eyes linger on it, the way his pupils widen at the shine of saliva over your lips with each swipe. 

at the third break, art was convinced you were doing this on purpose. 

“why do you keep doing that?” he asks as he’s walking over to grab his water bottle, right where you’re sitting on the concrete floor. you blink up at him, watching him hover the bottle near his lips and squirt the water into his mouth. did he always look this good when sweaty? 

gosh, maybe you’re just tired, maybe your mind is just foggy. 

“what?” you frown, confused. 

“licking your lips,” he speaks after swallowing the water, towering over you. his muscles were nearly bursting out of his white t-shirt with every movement, especially when he puts his water bottle down and crosses his arm, head cocking to the side. sweat causes some of his hair strands to stick to his forehead, lips puffy from how much he bites them when playing. 

“my lips are dry,” you explain, so simple. 

“yeah?” again, another smile, he had to be toying with you, “do you need some other help with that?” 

“what do you mean?” 

art hums, not explaining anything when he opens his mouth and swipes his thumb along his tongue, moving down to rub the saliva from his tongue onto your lips, memorizing the pillowy soft touch. your eyes widen, slightly, “art, this is—“ 

“not helping?” art tuts in faux disappointment, mumbling a small, ‘why don’t i..’ before he leans down further, licking his own lips and getting closer and closer until his lips are brushing against yours. 

“wrong,” you mumble out, but you sound unsure, like you don’t really believe what you just said, you don’t think this is wrong, you’ve always thought art was attractive, it was his wife that kept your crush on him at bay. you mumble against his lips, “you have a wife, art..” 

“do i?” he smirks against your lips, a near chuckle slipping out, “i must’ve forgotten.” 

“art,” it sounds like a warning, but again, you wanted nothing less than for his lips to fall against yours right now. 

“make it up to me, yeah? remember that?” his hand moves to hold your cheek, tipping your head up at him, eyes meeting yours in such close proximity, “i’ve got some marriage problems right now, so why don’t you play wife for me, hm?” 

you nod at him, ever so slightly, he clocks it immediately, and that’s his que. his eyes flutter shut, and he’s leaning in only a mere centimeter before his lips fall against yours. the kiss is soft at first, sweet, new, but then art starts taking the lead, and it quickly becomes something on the faint lines of cannibalism, he kissed you like he wanted to eat you, like he loved you. 

when he said he wanted you to play wife, he wasn’t lying. 

he pries your lips open with his own before his tongue makes it’s way inside your mouth, tasting the peppermint of your gum on your own tongue, memorizing the noisy breaths that leave your mouth and move into his. your nails are quick to run along his arms, making him pull back to speak, “hold on, kitty cat.” 

“you call your wife kitty cat?” you watch him peel off his sweaty shirt from his skin. 

he tosses the shirt to the side, exhaling a breath that showed he hated the feeling of the wet fabric on his skin, “mm, i call you kitty cat, ‘nd you’re playing my wife, so.” 

“right,” you agree, letting his cold hands brush against your skin when he takes your clothes off of you, of course looking at you for approval beforehand, which you nod to. 

“did you start wearing shorter skirts on purpose?” art questions when his fingers reach the waistband of your skirt, ever so slowly dipping underneath. 

“no, ‘course not,” you speak breathlessly, feeling his fingers move under your underwear as well until his fingertips meet your clit. you swallow thick, lashes fluttering as he starts moving his fingers in an almost cruel slowness. 

“look at me,” he whispers a simple command, free hand holding your chin and forcing you to look at him. his fingers move further down, immediately feeling how wet you are, he chuckles in surprise, “god, you’re this wet for a married man, huh?” 

“for my husband,” you mumble out, playing the part. 

“that’s right,” his middle finger circles your entrance for a second before ever so slowly dipping it inside. he watches your lips fall apart, the way your eyes get glossed over, the way your hips push up against his finger. “needy.” 

he doesn’t take long to push another finger in, letting go of your chin so he could guide your hand to his clothed cock, hard and pushing against his flimsy shorts. as soon as you start rubbing his dick through the fabric, his breath shudders slightly, as if he’s been waiting too long for like, as if he hasn’t had sexual pleasure in weeks. 

soon enough, only a mere minute or two in of foreplay, art gets antsy and he has to have his dick inside of you, he pries his fingers from your cunt and takes your skirt off next. “lay down for me, yeah?” he smiles at the fact that you do it immediately, even spreading your legs for him. 

he hisses at the feeling when his bare knees meet the concrete floor below, harsh on his skin, he tugs his shorts and boxers down ever so slightly until his cock is finally freed. you inhale sharply upon seeing it, he had a big dick. he spits in his hand, coating his dick with a grunt before he finally lines himself up with your entrance. 

“ready?” he hushes out. 

“yeah, yeah,” you’re barely able to finish the last yeah before his dick is moving into you, his nose scrunching from the tightness of your walls around him, it’s like you were purposefully squeezing his cock with an attempt to milk him dry already. 

“fuck,” he grunts out, pulling back, then moving back in, earning a pathetic moan from your lips. it sounds like music to his ears, so he keeps going, his thrusting was slow at first, gentle, kind— but just like the test matches, or the kiss, he gets hungry, and he wants more. 

his thrusts turn relentless almost immediately, maybe even like he was taking out some sorts of sexual frustrations out on your poor cunt. whimpers, whines, moans, all of those leave your lips, matching up with the grunts and the occasional whimper from his own mouth as well. 

sex was intoxicating for art, and there was something so dangerous, so forbidden about this, you weren’t really his wife, he was married to another woman, he was solely your coach. some sick part of art loves that, maybe that’s why he leans down and starts nipping at your neck, sucking at the delicate skin until maroon and blackberry starts blooming on the blank canvas. 

“art, oh my god,” you moan out, hands moving to scratch at his bare back, and maybe art should be smart enough to tell you not to leave marks, but he lets your nails dig in as his thrusts get harsher, surely drawing blood, or at least noticeable scratches. 

in fact, the feeling of you tearing into his skin only makes his orgasm come on faster, soon enough wracking his body and making his hips stutter. he keeps going though, despite the overstimulation that makes him pathetically whine softly, just until you’ve reached your own orgasm. 

he pulls out, panting, smirking down at you, “thanks, kitty cat.” 

#୨୧ (jules yapping) .ᐟ #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist x you #art donaldson smut #art donaldson challengers #challengers #challengers smut #mike faist smut #mike faist challengers

[vivwritesfics]

hi 🥹🥹 idk if this is okay but can i request a os ( or a series if you think it’s worthy, you decide ! ) where lando and yn are exes and they meet during a party after soooo many years and they are still super angry at each other (no cheating because i read your rules but idk, maybe they broke up because of distance?? or lando wanted to focus on his career ??). Despite that, tension builds up and they end up having sex all night and then they confess they never forget each other and idk a lil happy ending?

a right person wrong time ex lovers to enemies to lovers again sort of idk ahahahahahah

love youuuuuu

I've been pretty away from things for the last two days and I'm sorry, but hoping to get back on track real soon

Verstappen reader

Warnings: light smut, fingering

When you break up with someone you're still in love with, it sucks. It really fucking sucks. So much that it's easier to let yourself hate them than miss them.

It was years ago, but she still hated him. And seeing him on her television so often made her hate him more. It would have been easier if he hated her too, but he didn't. Her brother made sure she was aware of it.

She'd managed to avoid races, has done for years at this point. But Max was about to win his third championship, and he wanted her there for it.

So, he flew her out to Qatar.

For the entire race weekend, she ignored him. She ignored him with everything she had. Hiding out in the Red Bull garage, walking the other way whenever anybody dressed in orange came towards her.

But then Max won the goddamn championship. That wasn't what she was mad about. She was so fucking happy that her big brother had won the championship. She couldn't say no to going out partying with him.

Neither could Lando, either.

He didn't know she was going to be there, didn't know that she was even in the country. But, the moment his eyes met hers, fuck. He couldn't stop himself from striding over to her, drink in hand.

"Hey," he said, a little breathlessly. Well, she she looked incredibly fucking good.

Her hand reached out and struck his face. Lando held his cheek as he looked down at her. "What was that for?" He asked, but he knew. He knew how he had fucked up and he regretted it so much.

""Fuck you," she spat, stepping closer. But then she backed off to find her brother.

The night kept going on like this. They kept running into each other, dancing together for just a few minutes before she remembered who she was with and backed off.

Lando hadn't kissed her at the end of the night. He hadn't climbed into her lap as she sat in a booth (something she did to her). With her situated in his lap, hands on the back of his neck, she pressed her lips to his own.

"Fuck," he grunted against her lips as he grabbed her waist.

She whimpered and began trailing kisses down his neck. "Take me to your room, Lan," she whispered.

Her voice was so soft, how could he ever say no?

That was how she ended up in his hotel. Lando laid her on his bed, his hands touching her like he hadn't forgotten how. She moaned as he pulled down her underwear, his hands touching her thighs. Even this was better than anything she'd had in the years since they broke up.

"I've missed this," he whispered as his finger ran through her folds. She tossed her head back as he felt just how wet she was.

Fuck, he needed her now.

Lando dropped his trousers. He slowly and gently thrust his fingers into her, opening her up before he entered her.

It was like he was made to fill her. And he did, over and over again, until the sun shone through the window and light filled the room.

The new day came a new sense of clarity. She'd fucked her ex. Who the hell made the mistake of sleeping with their ex? She couldn't help but feel stupid as she looked at him, sleeping in the bed beside her. She'd missed him, so damn much.

But he was the one who didn't want her.

As she slipped out of the bed, a hand reached for her. "Don't go," he said. "Stay with me, please."

She couldn't stop herself from letting a sigh loose from her lips. "Why should I, Lan?" She couldn't stop the nickname from slipping out. "You don't want me, so why should I?"

He couldn't help but groan. "I do want you," he said.

She pulled away from him and gathered her clothes up from the floor. "Then start acting like it."

#f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader smut #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader

[021reid]

Please ? | Spencer Reid

summary: reader wants spencer to take her virginity.

CW: inexperienced!reader , shy-ish reader , reader gets came on , 18+ (if i’m missing anything lmk)

word count: 860 words

you and spencer have been dating for 4 months now. the last four months have been filled with date nights every sunday (when he wasn’t away) and endless flirting and teasing no matter what was happening around you guys.

but you were craving more.

you and spencer have had heated makeouts and even a little dry humping every now and then but nothing ever came out of it.

so now here you were sitting on spencer’s bed with a nervous look on your face.

“spence..can we talk?” you start regretting your words when you see him sit up with a look of concern and fear on his face.

“did i do something wrong honey?” it’s almost as if you can hear the gears shifting in his mind and you quickly shake your head to make them shut up.

“no i just…why won’t you have sex with me?” you notice the deep breath he takes and relief in his eyes.

“are you ready for sex?” it was no secret to spencer that you were inexperienced and you probably would run away if he even tried to unbutton your pants.

“i think? i don’t know i’m just really horny and i can’t keep cumming from just your thighs.” a smile appears on his face and he grabs your waist sitting you on his lap and whispering in your ear.

“well how about we fix that then baby?” you hold back a whimper and pull him in for a kiss, slowly moving back and fourth on his lap.

“can i take these off?” he puts a finger on the waistband of your shorts and you nod your head. he unbuttons your pants and slides them off you with a little of your help.

he can’t tear his eyes away from your white lacy panties with small bows on the sides.

“you’re so beautiful baby” he rubs your cunt through your panties and you swear you could cum from just that alone.

“fuck..spence i need more.” you kiss him again this time tugging at the ends of his shirt and pulling it over his head. you move down to his pants and unbutton them, pausing when you feel his print.

spencer slides down his pants more and takes out his cock.

your jaw dropped.

he had to be atleast 8 and a half inches and you were even debating that.

“can that fit in me?” you say still shocked and stunned by his size.

“we can make it fit honey.” he tugs at your shirt and you shake your head. your not ready to be fully naked yet and he understands.

“lay down for me baby.” you move to the other side of his bed and rest your head on the nearest pillow. he kisses your thighs and makes his way up to your cunt, kissing all around it only making you grow wetter and wetter.

“please spence i can’t wait anymore.” he laughs at your eagerness and pulls down your panties. he stares at you in awe which makes you close your legs and push him slightly.

“stop staring at me like that..” he kisses your cheek and pulls your panties off.

“you’re so pretty sweetheart. every part of you.” he rubs your heat and you moan with every movement. he inserts his pointer finger and curls it which causes you to moan and arch your back.

“fuck..put another one in please.” he inserts his middle finger and waits for you to calm down before he starts moving them both at a slow pace. you’re a moaning mess and you’ve never wanted to come so bad.

“fuck if you keep doing that i’m gonna cum.” he laughs and takes out his fingers which causes you to pout.

“i don’t want you to come yet baby” he reaches over for a condom and puts it on.

“tell me if you wanna stop okay baby?” you nod and moan when you feel him rub his tip over your heat.

“fuck please just put it in.” he slowly inserts every inch into you moaning between each inch just from how warm your heat is. all that fills the room is your heavy breathing.

once he bottoms out he starts to move slowly. you moan with every thrust and your hands find their way to his long curly hair slightly tugging at it.

“go faster please, i can handle it.” his movements speed up and you can feel your orgasm approaching. the sounds of his quiet whimpers and your skin slapping against eachother becomes louder with every thrust.

“i’m so close y/n” his legs start to shake under you and his movements get faster causing you to let out a loud moan and your back to arch off the bed as your orgasm hits you.

not long after you feel spencer’s cock twitch inside you and his movements start to slow.

you both sit there for about 10 minutes trying to catch your breath.

“that was really good” you say, slurring your words. he smiles and pulls out of you slowly, handing you a bottle of water from the nightstand.

“i love you so much y/n.” he pampers your face in kisses and you both giggle until you both fall asleep, happy and inlove.

i’m not good at writing smut so tell me how it is 🌚 don’t forget to check out my masterlist !

#spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #dom spencer reid #sub reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds smut

[wosoamazing]

Newest Signing

Part 1 - Fire on Fire Series A/N: This is the first part of my new Leah Series, I have already started writing and planing parts of it but if you have any ideas let me know and I will try and include them.

Leah sat on her phone scrolling through various social media platforms, it hurt to see so many other people happy, with their partners when she wasn't, she had never had a successful relationship, to her no one was right, no one was the right match, she didn't feel like they clicked. So many of her exes told her that she had 'too high standards' or that 'soulmates don't exist' or something along the lines of 'you aren't perfect so why do you expect someone else to be perfect'. However she wasn't looking for a soulmate, she wasn't looking for someone perfect, she was just looking for the someone who was perfect for her.

She had started to think that maybe she was just asking for too much, and that her standards were too high, but that was until the day Jonas introduced the team to Arsenal's newest signing.

"Girls this is Y/N Y/L/N, she is our newest signing, and yes she did sign outside of the transfer window as approved by the FA due to issues at her old club, but no further questions on that please. She isn't going to be fully joining training until our Portugal training camp, just so she has some time to settle in but also a well deserved break, but you will see her in the gym and around the place, so please make her feel welcome. I think she is going to be really great for the team."

Her eye's immediately connected with the brunettes, she was tall and muscular, her face held the dreamiest blue eyes, and her smile was perfect, she continued watching the girl as she hugged Stina, the way her hair flowed, her body flowed, it was safe to say Leah was mesmerised.

"Stop staring, you creep" McCabe whispered in Leah's ear, causing her to break from her trance, giving the Irish women a playful smack on the shoulder. "I'm going to the gym," she said as she stood up and headed out, everyone around her making eyes at each other.

_____

You walked into the locker room behind Jonas and as he introduced you to the team, a certain blonde's eyes connected with yours, you couldn't help but notice the small smile her lips created when she saw you, but you quickly diverted your gaze to your best friend. Walking up to her and hugging her.

"I'm glad they let you sign out of the transfer window," Stina said, sounding relieved as she released the hug, "yeah I was worried they wouldn't but once I explained to the FA what was happening they were horrified and told me they would reach out to whatever club I wanted to, within reason, and see if they would sign me. Apparently there are going to be investigations."

"Good, they shouldn't be doing that. But where are you staying? You can crash at mine until you find a place if you need."

"Thank you, but I'm all good, Moster and Tante said I could stay with them, as they are in Paris for the next however long, however it was more a non-negotiable, I think they also meant I was going to be staying when they came back, again non-negotiable, but I'll see."

You and Stina continued talking until it was time for the girls to go to their meeting. You had an appointment with one of the physios just so they could check your range of motion and get some base lines in case you were to injure yourself before your first fitness testing session. As you walked into the gym, you saw a certain blonde in the corner, working away at some exercises which must've been set for her. As you worked with the physio completing the activities and exercises he wanted you to do you couldn't help but notice the way the blonde kept glancing over to you, almost as if she wanted to talk to you.

_____

You sat down at a table with Stina and Frida, Caitlin joined you and wanted to catch up with you and also trying to help you integrate with the team more easily, Caitlin's presence meant that Katie and then consequently Beth sat with you too. You knew the Aussies already due to having spent most of your childhood and your very early twenties in Australia, due to your Tante's work.

"Steph," you called out as you saw the very flustered Aussie walk into the dinning hall, she turned her head around to you, just about every emotion passing through her face.

"Y/N?" she questioned as she walked towards you, "what are you doing here?"

"Well if you weren't late you would've been here when Jonas said I was transferring here," you weren't normally one to say anything about your teammates being late, especially new teammates, however you are Steph had been teammates a long time ago, making your senior team debut for Melbourne Victory exactly a year after she made hers, and she also had a mark on her neck, so you were waiting to see how bad her excuse was.

"Sorry yeah I slept in, Calvin was up barking most of the night. It's so nice to see you again though," she explained as she pulled you in for a hug.

"That mark of your neck would indicate otherwise," you whispered in her ear, she just groaned knowing everyone would've already seen it.

You spend the rest of the lunch talking to mainly Steph or Stina and Frida but occasionally others would make some small talk with you.

After lunch you said your goodbyes to the team, and started to make your way out, when you heard someone call out your name, you turned around to see Leah moving towards you. "Would you like to join me and some of the team for dinner tonight? We are just going to a local pub," she questioned.

"Umm," you filled the air as you hesitated not sure what the goal of her invitation was, "if you don't want to, that's totally okay, I mean you're probably busy anyway," she quickly spat out trying to backtrack.

"Oh no, I would love to, it's just that I don't currently have a car," you told her as you fiddled with the ring on your finger.

"Oh, I can drive you if you want, you can just message me your address later," you nodded and mumbled a quiet thanks before you both went your separate ways.

____

You were just about to put your shoes one when you received a message.

From Leah: I'm just out the front in the car, no rush though. I know I'm early.

To Leah: Hey, all good, I'm actually just putting my shoes on now, I'll be out in a second.

You're pretty sure Leah's eyes widened as you walked out of the house and to her car. You opened the door of her car and saw her eyes run over your body before she said "You look nice," "Oh, thank you, it's nothing," you blushed slightly climbing into the passenger seat, but in truth it was nothing. You had a pair of light blue skinny jeans on, with a cropped country road rugby jumper on. You also have a black puffer vest in case you needed it but you placed that on the floor as you got in.

"You look nice too," you said as an afterthought, almost regretting it instantly, it probably wouldn't been better to say nothing at all than say that.

"Thanks," she smiled at you softly before she began to drive.

---

It was safe to say by the end of the night you hadn't once regretted your decision to come, all the girls there were super nice and it was a really great way to get to know them all, outside of soccer.

"Um, we're about to head home and we just thought to offer to take you home, since, um," Beth gestured over to where Leah was a the bar, you couldn't help but feel a small wave of warmth travel through your body at the fact that the team already seemed to care about you.

"Oh um, yes please that would be great," you followed Beth and Viv to their car, making small talk with them on the way home, when the car pulled up outside your home you didn't miss the look the couple sent each other, you quickly hopped out and thanked the two women profusely, before walking up the stairs of your home and collapsing onto your couch, noticing a message from Stina.

From Stina: Hey, I hope the night out with the girls went well. What would you say to a movie night at yours tomorrow night? In the theatre?

To Stina: Hey yeah it went well, Beth and Viv took me home, will explain why tomorrow night at movie night in the lounge room, you can invite Frida if you want too.

From Stina: Okay. I'll be over around 5. From Stina: Wait, why the lounge room?

To Stina: See you then, I'll make pasta.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #arsenal wfc #awfc #awfc x reader #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #wosoamazing fireonfire

[plutoswritingplanet]

Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader) pt. 2

a/n: this one's a bit shorter, next one will have smut, i am so fcking sleepy writing this i'll have to check tomorrow it this isn't a hallucination

Warnings: Horny Violence, Blood and Guts, Suggestive Themes, we're on a steady route to pound town

Summary: Cooper catches his prize, but an uninvited guest puts a strain on an already rocky relationship. Cross-Posted on AO3

PT. 1

You must be a Vault Dweller. Truly. There is no other way to explain the utter lack of self-preservation skills.

Cooper finds you almost immediately after the sun sets. He can see the flickering light of your small bonfire through the trees, and languidly, he stalks forwards, opting to stay in the shadows to observe you a moment longer. 

You're sitting on the ground, back leaning against a destroyed carcass of a plane. Hair pushed out of your face, Cooper can see the flames illuminating your focused expression with warm light. Once again, he's struck by this seemingly regal air around you. Like you've been raised in a castle, far from this fucked up place, that is now his home. A princess, stuck in harsh reality. Eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip tucked hard between your teeth, you seem to be pondering over something.

With quick motions, you take your messenger bag, opening it and dumping its contents onto the ground in front of you. It's somewhat hard to see, but the sound of small glass bottles knocking into each other is telling enough. 

Taking stock of your inventory, you begin to tuck everything back into the bag. Chems upon chems, RadAway, RadX, quite the little drug library, and Cooper's eyes immediately lock onto his most sought after, amber liquid. Why would a Smoothie like you need any of that stuff is beyond him. He hasn't seen any Ghouls in the small town you hail from. 

Perks of the job, he thinks to himself, as you stack away at least five vials.

At the last bottle, you hesitate, bringing it up towards the light, and looking at it with a worried expression. The liquid swirls inside, and Cooper watches from the shadows, as you press the cold glass against your forehead in a motion eerily reminding him of a prayer. Your shoulders shudder, and Cooper's mangled ears strain, as he sees your mouth move.

- Let me be brave - you whisper to the vial, like some ancient spell, and something new tightens in his chest, something he immediately brushes away.

Then, he sees you lift a very familiar piece of equipment, putting it on your wrist, and begin to tweak something in the controls. A Pip-Boy. Old and battered, but apparently still working. All his confusing feelings are wiped clean in an instant. Now, he's truly intrigued. The clasps seem slightly too big for your hand, and the device slides the length of your arm, as you move. 

You sigh, heavily, then press something, and the Geiger meter clicks to life, picking up on stray radiation. Cooper feels his muscles tense, knowing all too well, why the device has activated so rapidly. As a Ghoul, he leaves a trail of radiation, that follows him wherever he goes. He wasn't particularly aware, that a Pip-Boy could pick up on it, but he wasn't surprised either.

 The sound makes you freeze in your spot. Slowly, you scan the area, your hand extended towards the darkening outline of the surrounding trees. As your hand passes by the place Cooper has chosen as his hiding spot, the meter grows louder. 

Jumping to your feet, you raise the blasted thing in front of you, your other hand tugging at the waistband of your skirt, freeing your trusted kitchen knife. As if to double-check, you put your hand somewhere to the back, listening to the quiet cracking noise. 

You can't fully confirm your suspicions on time, as Cooper springs to action. 

A thick line of rope falls over your shoulders, and before you have the chance to react, the loop around you tightens. Your entire body is tugged with surprising force in the direction of the treeline. Loosing your footing, you collapse onto the damp forest floor, chin scraping in the process. The yelp of shock tearing out of your throat, rings through the surrounding area, before you literally, eat dirt. The force of the impact wrenches the knife from your hand, as it bends at an uncomfortable angle. The weapon lands somewhere in the grass, the blade reflecting the flames.

Wiggling like a worm, trying to free yourself from the bounds, you notice a pair of well-worn shoes entering your vision. They cross the remaining distance, stopping just short of your head. Knees crack as your attacker squats down, before taking your hair into a hard grip and lifting your head from the dirt. 

Your face twists in pain, neck craning uncomfortably, and with an overwhelming feeling of finality, your eyes land onto the face of a ghoul. The Ghoul. He turns his head slightly to the side with the meanes of grins, before letting go of your hair, your head falling back into the dirt. 

- Oh, motherfucker - you groan, pulling your legs up, and attempting to get up.

- Stay down - the Ghoul's voice is rough and biting, and sudden pressure on your back pins you to the ground. - Do you know how fuckin' stupid it is, to light a fire in the wilderness? Any unsightly character could pick you off in seconds. 

Spitting out stray clumps of earth and grass from your mouth, you scoff at his scolding tone.

- Thankfully, there are no unsightly characters here, huh? 

- Oh, I wouldn't say that, sweetheart. - the bounty hunter tugs the toe of his shoe under your side, and kicks up, turning your body.

You roll onto your back, throwing a nasty look at the Ghoul, as he secures the loop of his lasso. His eyes reflect the light in the most haunting of ways, and you squirm under his gaze, which drags itself across your body, stopping briefly at the tips of your breasts, peaking from under your shirt. Swallowing thickly, your muscles relax, in hopes of loosening the rope. It barely gives, but your limbs recover some wiggle room. 

Cooper blinks, his head jerking to the side, and only as he brings his hand up, do you register the gun in his hand. Making sure you can see it, he turns towards your messenger bag, grabbing it from the ground where you left it. 

He sits down, somewhere outside your field of vision, and you risk pulling yourself up into a sitting position. He doesn't seem to mind it now, too busy with rummaging through your belongings. Finally, he pulls out a vial of amber liquid, watching it swirl in the flickering light of the bonfire. 

- Now - Cooper starts, as he grabs the inhaler from his pocket, inserting the vial into it - Why would a backwoods healer have something like this on 'er?

Rolling your shoulders ever so slightly, the rope slides further down your arms, and you regard the Ghoul with a venomous rendition of a "are you fucking dumb?" look. Which he doesn't appreciate. His hands tremble, as he closes his mouth over the inhaler, taking a long hit, draining the entire vial. You try very hard, not to notice the low moan flowing out of him, as the drug enters his system. Or the way his eyes flutter blissfully for just a second. 

- You never know, who might be needing help... - you mutter, wincing at the biting pain in your limbs.

- Well ain't that considerate of you - he coughs into his gloved hand, before sighing deeply, his head reclining back against the plane's exterior, his eyes closed.

From where you're sitting, he looks weirdly handsome. Rugged and very much Ghoul-like, but handsome nonetheless. The skin of his neck is pulled taunt, and in the flickering light of a dying bonfire, you can see a myriad of scars, littering any surface of his skin that's visible. Still, there were other matters at hand, that needed your attention, and you try to shift in your seat as quietly as possible, slowly but surely sliding the rope down your body. 

- Next time you try to run away, I'll shoot you - your efforts are stilled by his warning tone, and by the way he waves his gun at you, you know he'll make good on this promise.

- Thought you needed me in good condition.

To that, he finally throws you a look from under his cowboy hat. 

- Good... - he confirms, his other hand slowly shortening the length of the rope connecting the both of you - Ain't the same as mint. 

The loop suddenly digs further into your flesh, and you grunt at the uncomfortable feeling of the rough rope scratching at your exposed upper arms. 

Unfortunately, he's right. During your time as the local healer, you've done many questionable things to ensure the well-being of the town. One of those things, was dealing with organ harvesters. You've only bought a limb or a finger, every once in a while, as if that was some consolation for your darkened soul. Those moments quickly taught you, that something being good was most certainly not the same as ideal. Or mint, as your captor has supplied. 

- You a Vault-Dweller? - the Ghoul finally asks, breaking the small spell of silence between you.

The question doesn't surprise you, and you lift the Pip-Boy as far up, as the lasso allows you. Which isn't a lot. 

- Nah - the flames dance on your suddenly melancholic expression, and Cooper drinks it all up, curiosity spiking with each new information - My mother was. She ran away from her Vault when she was a teenager and joined the Brotherhood soon after. 

- The Brotherhood doesn't recruit women - Cooper turns his body towards you, fishing for lies like a shark sniffing for blood. 

- Oh, it doesn't? - your lips pull back into a teasing smile, which perhaps isn't the smartest thing to do, but entertainment is scarce in the Wastelands, and you're determined to have some fun - She posed as a man for years, picked up a job as a medic.

Cooper hums to himself, inviting you to elaborate with an inclination of his head. 

- There, she met my father - you continue, looking over at the last glowing embers of the bonfire - They were discovered, court martialed for treason. They escaped together and had me somewhere along the way.

Your Pip-Boy still cracks, the radiation emanating from the Ghoul making the Geiger meter go haywire. With soft eyes, your hand traces the outline of the screen, watching the way green light dances on your fingers. 

- The forbidden love of the Wasteland - you sigh into the silence - Sounds like a title of some romance novel, no?

- Or a bad porno - Cooper grumbles, rolling his eyes.

- What's a porno?

His head snaps towards you in record speed, a myriad of emotions running through his mangled expression. It settles on deep annoyance, when he notices the sly smirk on your lips, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing. 

- Gotcha - your attempt at finger guns is pathetic at best.

- Oh, you think you're a fucking comedian, huh? - the bounty hunter asks, a slight amused tint to his words, which you consider to be a small victory.

- That's why they put a bounty on me - you giggle - I'm too damned funny. 

- Shut it.

The sudden change in his tone catches you off guard, and you cock an eyebrow at him, confused. The Ghoul looks much more tense than seconds ago, his hand tightening around his gun. One of his legs kicks up a pile of dirt, smothering the dying embers of the bonfire, as he leans forward, seemingly ready to jump. 

- Had I known you were such a buzz kill...-

You're not allowed to finish, as the Ghoul basically throws himself in your direction. Your yelp is cut short with a piece of flimsy cloth being shoved into your mouth. A series of muffled sounds, vaguely resembling "is this my robe?" escape you, and the Ghoul pushed against your head, until you fall back down onto the ground. 

His body is hot against yours, as he covers you entirely with his weight. It's quite difficult to breathe through the makeshift gag and the overwhelming scent of blood, gunpowder, and the sickly sweet undertone of rot. As well as the unfamiliar feeling of having someone so close. You were a hermit after all. 

- I said, shut the fuck up - he whispers harshly into your ear, and you shiver underneath him, as his chest rises and falls against your back. 

Then, a sound somewhere close to the forest line makes your head whip in its direction. Cracking of twigs and heavy footsteps, coming closer and closer with clear determination. 

- Healer? - your entire body stiffens, as a familiar voice rings out through the trees. - Are you alright, Healer?

Benny. The same Benny, which led this damned bounty hunter right to your doorstep is currently making his merry way towards the both of you. Your eyes follow the way the Ghoul's thumb loads the pistol with a click of finality, and suddenly new energy floods your system.

- Stop fucking moving - Cooper grounds down on his teeth, as you attempt to free yourself from both his grip, and the lasso's.

Images of Benny, bloodied and dead, flash through your mind, and despite your lack of any sympathy towards the man, you don't want to see it. So, you start to move again, violently shaking under the Ghoul, forcing the lasso to slide from your body. Your hips jerk from the ground, bucking into him like a wild animal, and somewhere behind your ear, you can hear him suck in a sharp breath. Which you have no time to dwell upon. Your tongue fights against the fabric of your robe, and after a second you're able to spit it out.

- Don't shoot him - you plead feverishly, hands gripping the Ghoul's forearm - I'll talk to him, he'll leave. Just don't shoot him, please.

Cooper looks down at you, his eyes hard on your face, as he watches out for any signs of deceit. Then, he presses his lips into a thin line.

- Make it quick, or I'll pop his head clean off his shoulders. - southern accent floods every syllable, and were you not fighting to save a life (again), you would've blushed.

- Yes, thank you. I'll be quick. Thank you. - words spill out of you like a broken faucet, whispered into the space between your bodies, as the bounty hunter tugs off the loop of his lasso. 

You take a moment to steady yourself, as he drags you up with him, hand twisted into the front of your shirt. Still a little stunned, you allow him to manoeuvre you, turning your body in his grasp, until your back is pressed flush against his front. 

Strong arm sneaks over your shoulders, hand clasping around the column of your throat, while the other one waits just outside of your vision. The barrel of the gun rests between your shoulder and your neck, and the coolness of the metal causes a myriad of goosebumps to erupt across your skin. 

- I'm here Benny - you call out, praying to anything that would listen, that your plan would work - Come out, slowly. 

To his credit, Benny has always been quite good at following directions. There weren't many attributes about him either way, a bit dim in the head, a bit too heroic. 

And definitely a bit too quick to pull out a gun.

Which is what he does as soon as he sees your peculiar situation. The Ghoul drums his fingers against your pulse point, and Benny approaches, a simple shotgun in front of him.

- What the hell...?

- Benny, I need you to listen to me - your voice sounds way too panicked, and you swallow hard to fake some illusion of control over this situation - I need you to turn around, and leave.

- But, there's a Ghoul with a gun behind you, Healer.

You nearly jump out of your skin, when you feel the hot breath of your unwanted companion on the back of your neck. You can almost imagine his chapped lips, so close to your skin.

- Time's a tickin', sweetheart - he whispers, and your blood runs cold in your veins. 

- He's a - you swallow, mouth going dry in an instant - He's my friend. Who's getting very anxious with the trigger, Benny, so please, just go home. 

Deep down inside you know there is no scenario, where the farmer leaves alive. He signed his death warrant the moment he stepped out of the shadows, yet for some unknown reason, that just makes you fight against the odds harder. Call it dumb optimism, perhaps you're possessed by your mother's spirit. Or perhaps the chems have finally scrambled your brains for good. 

- He's not looking very friendly - Benny's gun sways slightly, as he tries to keep it raised, muscles evidently straining against the weight - He's the guy that shot Pete.

Oh for fucks sake, your whole body starts shaking at this point, heart thrumming in your chest like a moth batting against a lampshade. You can feel the Ghoul smirk against the skin of your shoulder, and tears prick at the corners of your eyes. His thumb presses slightly into your pulse, feeling it run rampant against his finger. 

- Please - somehow you hope the desperation in your voice will be enough - Please, leave. Benny, please.

Benny looks between you and the Ghoul peaking over your trembling form. You can see his brain working overtime, scrunched eyebrows, smacking of the lips. You're only praying it's working in the right direction. Then, some idea flashes across his expression, and you know in the hollow of your stomach, that this is his end.

- If I save you, will you marry me? - he asks, looking at you with the utmost hopeful expression.

- ...what?

Confusion doesn't even fully register in your mind, as the deafening sound of a gun being fired nearly blows up your eardrums. At first you're not sure, what you're looking at. Where there used to be Benny, now there's a carcass, mangled and bloody. It's hard to figure out, where individual parts of his body are, some bones sticking out from the chunky mush. A spray of red falls onto your face like a morning mist, and the scent of iron and gunpowder is stunning your senses. 

You can't move. Eyes glued to what once used to Benny, you don't even notice, as the Ghoul removes himself from you, placing the lasso over your head and around your body. The loop is secured tightly, and the bounty hunter tugs on it a couple of times, just to test its durability. Then, lazily, he picks up your messenger bag, swinging it over his shoulder. 

- The first time he came to me for help, he tried to domesticate a rad roach - you mutter absentmindedly, not caring if your unwanted companion is hearing you - Wanted it to help with the farm work. I had to stitch half his left side. 

- Stupid life deserves a stupid death.

- You're a fucking monster - you spit out, the feeling of Benny's blood on your lips almost making you gag.

Apparently, the Ghoul takes offense to that, because almost instantly, he's in front of you, his hand gripping your throat, and pushing you hard against the metal plating of the destroyed plane. Stars erupt behind your eyelids, as your head knocks hard into the wall, pain barely registering under the confusion.

- I have been more than accommodating to you, little princess - the Ghoul snarls in your direction, but all you can focus on, is his other hand, grabbing your bruised chin - I've entertained your little medical escapade, I let you negotiate with that dimwit over there.

The warmth of his body suffocates you stronger than any hand around your throat. You can't decide on the color of his eyes, as they seem to shift between amber and green, and completely black. Your mouth opens just a smidge, as you try to defend yourself in any way, but before you can speak, the Ghoul shoves two gloved fingers into your mouth, silencing you in an instant. 

- I could be so much worse, darlin', and I don't think you would like that - his voice lowers itself barely above a whisper, and he watches your expression shift under his grip.

You can't help it, really, the way your body reacts to this rough manhandling. It's not like you could predict being pinned to a wall by a stranger would make your thighs press together. Cooper looks down. He smiles like a cat, that's just found the fattest of mice, when his eyes drag back up to your face. 

- Or perhaps you would - his knee presses against the middle of your thighs, just short of forcing them apart, and you gasp around his fingers.

As if nothing has happened, he pulls away, so suddenly, you nearly fall over. His gloved hand glistens with your saliva, and gracefully, he wipes it clean on your shirt. Blushed, panting, and very angry at this turn of events, you stare daggers at him, as he tugs at the lasso, forcing you to start moving.  

- What is your name? - you demand, blood running hot and defiant in your veins. 

Cooper stares for just a moment too long. The way you seem to bristle in rage, even though that farmer truly was stupid, and you know it too. He likes the way your eyes harden, the way your jaw sets, when you realize this is no longer fun and games. When you recognize, how dangerous he can be, how mean and ruthless. He'd be a fool not to admit it,  it makes him feel powerful, revered. 

And the undertone of humiliation running through the length of your spine is just such a delicious addition. Almost better than chems. Almost more addicting.

Lips tugging back into a nasty smirk, he appraises you with his gaze, surprised when your resolve seems to harden even more. 

- You, Healer - your title sounds wrong coming from his thin lips, worse than any other time you've heard it - Can call me "sir".

Something akin to disgust runs through your expression, and you turn away with a grumble. 

- Fat fucking chance.

#my writing #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #fallout x reader #fallout tv series #fallout smut #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul smut #if yall see any typos no you dont ill edit it in the morning i just gotta post it before i go insane #i am slightly taking inspiration from a little ship ive been shiping since highschool but i want tell yall which one #you gotta guess #its from superwholock is all im gonna say which is just... who am i #anyways good night this cowboy is retiring

[littlestarconch]

Sense of Longing

Pairing : Xavier , Zayne , Rafayel x Reader

→ Hurt/Comfort ; Headcanon form ; Separate ; Established Relationship

🪄 :: Cruel 😭 , Now I feel guilty for even thinking about leaving.

Xavier

Literally turning the world upside down trying to find you.

Sleeping away his desires.

Sometimes he would even hallucinate that you're in front of him.

There are days where he dreamt about you, but then he woke up— making him felt even more lonelier than before.

Fighting wanderers even more aggressively due to his mind is only filled with you, who did not respond to his texts, nor read them!

It left him devastated, though he may not show them physically.

But his actions are getting more and more reckless each day that passes without you.

There are also times where he got injured because of this recklessness.

And you know what he did? He left it as it is, just letting it heal by 'itself'.

Your return— feels unreal for him

It feels like it's a dream, he was sleeping like usual, but hearing your voice woke him up.

It took him a good minute to realize he's not dreaming.

He would talk to you like how he usually is in his dreams, that is until he felt your warmth on his skin.

He stared at you, his hand unconsciously reached out to your arms.

When he' sure enough that it's actually you— be prepared because he will pull you into his arms.

Heavens! He will refuse to let go even! You have to push him away if you want to breathe.

But I believe y'all won't push him away.

Ever since your return, your first week is filled with Xavier just clinging onto you everywhere you go.

Not quite literally, but you get me.

Sleeping, with you in his arms, is a must.

If not, he will not be able to go to sleep.

Also please comfort him, he had been sleep deprived ever since the day you left without saying anything </3

He longed to be comforted in your arms, feeling your fingers running through his hairlocks.

He longed for listening to your heartbeat, listening to your voice.

He missed them, too much that it hurts.

He didn't realize how much he missed you until you appeared again in front of him.

Zayne

Working.

Doing his thing like usual, though, he will unconsciously look over his phone to see the long waited notification from a certain someone.

When he did not see anything, he, felt quite, weird at first.

Is it worry? Is it sadness? What is it??

At first he will simply shook the feeling away.

But he will no longer able to ignore them after a week have passed.

A week without any news from you left him confused and worried.

He will also not show this feeling, he is literally so stoic no one would be able to figure out he's actually missing you.

Even he, himself, didn't realize he missed you.

He buried himself in his work, staying up late. Even went as far as pulling an all nighter.

There are days where he accidentally fell asleep in his office due to the lack of sleep he gets.

He will still, unconsciously look over his phone to see if there's anything news coming from you despite him burying himself in work.

Other doctors and nurses is definitely worried about him, he had not left the hospital for a long time.

They literally had to send him home to make him go take a proper rest.

Since your disappearance, he would try do things that you usually do.

But everytime he did so, his mind wander off to the memory of being together with you.

Your smile, your voice, your touch.

He missed them.

A lot.

And he is well aware of how much he needed to see your smile, to hear your voice, to feel your touch once more.

Your return— made him want to immediately pull you into his arms and never let you go.

Upon seeing you in front of him, he wanted to just engulf you into his hold, and just stay like that till he let go and probably will be more than 30 minutes.

But he kept the feeling down by checking if you have any injuries while you were gone.

If you confirm there are no injuries, he will let out his desperation.

Of how much he missed you, slowly approaching you.

His hand on your waist, pulling you closer. His other hand brushed against the lines of your cheek.

Do the same to him, holding his face with both of your hands.

You will see how he just melt into your hold, kissing your palm as he pulled you even closer to him.

Soon he finally engulfed you into his arms, burying his face to the crook of your neck.

Whispering how much he missed you.

Make sure you spare some time for him now, because he will not let you go.

Rafayel

Good God.

He is very worried. Like literally. But on the first week, he would be quite grumpy of how you're not even reading his messages.

But after 2 weeks of no news from his favorite bodyguard turned his angry thoughts to worry.

He had stopped painting after a week have passed without any texts coming from your side.

His mind could not think of any inspiration, all he could think about is just,

Where are you? Are you hurt?

So many thoughts coming through his mind, but he tried to push them off by telling himself that you can handle yourself without any help from him.

But even so, that did not calm his mind at all.

There are days where he went to the beach at late night.

Watching the seas as his mind wanders off thinking about you.

The studio felt so cramped despite the large size, is it because of the messiness in it?

He refuses to clean up the mess, since he thought that no one will come to visit anyway.

You are literally just, disappeared without a trace, and not even saying a single word to him.

It left him devastated.

He is not aware how much he missed you, he thought that he can handle by being himself like how he used to be.

But you proofed him wrong.

Your return— made him realize how much he missed you.

He couldn't even get angry at you because of how much he longed to see you.

Hearing your voice alone washes the worry away and replaced them with relief.

If you ever ask about him being angry, he will immediately say he's not.

He couldn't.

Not when this feeling of longing overtakes him.

He wants to hold you, and will ask if he can hold you.

Once he gets a yes, he will pull you into his arms.

And let out a shaky breath, feeling you in his arms felt surreal for him.

Hearing your voice, feeling your warmth engulfed his figure.

He realized how much he needed this.

The world no longer colored in grey, the colors have returned, along with his inspiration.

Everything has gone back to it's place, because his muse have returned into his arms.

©littlestarconch

🪄 :: This is messed up bro 😔

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x you #love and deepspace #xavier lnd #lnd xavier #love and deepspace xavier #xavier love and deepspace #xavier x reader #love and deepspace zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne lnd #lnd zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #lnd rafayel #rafayel lnd #rafayel x reader

[deliciousangelfestival]

Mission Dad

Character: Dad!Bucky Barnes x Wife!Reader

Summary: Bucky is just your average dad in his daughter's eyes. But deep down, she yearns for a father with more influence and power, like her friend's dad. Little does she know, Bucky is anything but ordinary.

Words Count: 3,712

Warning: Slightly bullying scene.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

The midday sun streamed into the principal's office through the windows, casting long shadows across the room. Despite the abundance of light, the atmosphere inside remained heavy and gloomy.

"I’m sorry; it’s my mistake as a parent." You bowed your head to the people in front of you: two couples who wore formal suits, along with their teenage daughter, and the principal, who kept wiping the sweat from his head.

Your daughter, Faith, who stood beside you, clenched her fist. Her expression was ugly as she looked at her mother, apologizing and bowing to someone who didn’t deserve it. “Mom, don't apologize. it’s not even my fault.”

You glanced at her and nodded, assuring her that you didn’t feel hurt or offended.

Sabrina, your daughter's classmate, smirked at you and Faith. With her mouth silent, she told Faith, “You can’t win.”

“Yes. It’s just a small matter.” Roy, Sabrina's father and also a senator, patted his daughter's head. “I think this matter doesn’t have to go public, right?” He turned to the principal.

“That’s right.”

With that, the problem was solved. But the scar still felt fresh on Faith’s heart.

As you drove the car back home, the silence hung heavy between you and Faith. Then, unexpectedly, her voice broke the quiet. “Why did you marry dad?” Faith crossed her arms beside you, her tone tinged with a mix of curiosity and frustration.

Your eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by her question. You hadn't anticipated such a query from your daughter.

“Why did dad let you go alone and allow you to be humiliated?” Faith wiped the tears from her eyes, her voice trembling with emotion. The memory of you apologizing on her behalf still fresh in her mind.

You felt a pang of heartache seeing your daughter in distress. Today's events had revealed a truth you hadn't known before. The reason for your confrontation with Sabrina's parents was rooted in the bullying Faith had endured.

Faith had gathered evidence – recordings and screenshots of text messages – hoping it would be enough to put an end to the torment. But the power and influence wielded by Sabrina's family proved formidable.

With the evidence at hand, Faith had the potential to tarnish Sabrina's family name and derail her father's career as a senator.

Your fists clenched at the thought of Sabrina's cruelty towards your daughter. You wanted to scream, to exact some form of justice for Faith's pain. The urge to confront Sabrina and her allies gnawed at you, a primal instinct to protect your child at any cost.

But you held it in, knowing that today you didn't have the power to fight back. Another reason was because your husband wasn't here. Bucky Barnes had been gone for months for his job, a job so complicated that contacting him was nearly impossible.

You caressed Faith’s hair gently. “I'll try calling your father again.”

Faith sighed, her frustration evident. “He better answer, or else I'll find a better dad.”

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips despite the circumstances. “Honey, don’t joke like that. Your father is the only one in my heart.”

She pretended to gag, a playful gesture that reminded you of the teasing banter you shared as a family. Whenever Bucky returned home from his job, you would become lovesick teenagers, unable to keep your hands off each other.

******

Back at home, you glanced around to ensure no one was near before your hand slid open a secret shelf, revealing an old flip phone hidden within.

You dialed a number and waited anxiously until a voice finally answered, "Hello?"

You breathed a sigh of relief. "Steve, can you find him?"

“Not yet,” came the disappointing reply.

You sighed again, feeling the weight of the day's events pressing down on you. "Alright, I’ll call you later."

Closing the phone, you rubbed your temples, the stress of the situation weighing heavily on your mind. Your daughter was right – you needed Bucky.

Just then, you heard heavy footsteps descending from the second floor. "Mom, I’m going out for a sec."

You glanced up in surprise, realizing Faith was already on the move. "Faith, we just arrived!" But it was too late – she had already slipped out the door.

******

Faith heard your voice, but she sprinted faster. She had caught the name "Uncle Steve" in your conversation, indicating that he might know where her dad was. They had been friends since childhood, and she trusted him.

Upon arriving at the coffee shop owned by Uncle Steve, she pushed open the glass door and was greeted with a warm "Welcome."

Steve was taken aback. "Faith?"

Approaching him, Faith cut to the chase. "Uncle, do you know where my dad is?"

Steve hesitated, struggling to find the right words. Eventually, he shook his head. "You know he has to travel all the time."

Faith rolled her eyes in frustration. "Yeah, cleaning up someone else's mess. He keeps saying that, but when there’s trouble at his own home, he's never there."

Sensing the tension, Steve tried to diffuse the situation. "Hold up, the topic is getting heavy. Let’s sit down." He gestured towards a nearby table, inviting Faith to sit and talk more calmly.

Steve offered Faith her favorite chocolate mint drink to cheer her up. Taking a sip, Faith felt a sense of calm wash over her. She grumbled and sighed, “I don’t understand why mother married my dad when she can’t depend on him.”

Steve widened his eyes in surprise. “Your dad would be heartbroken to hear that,” he said softly. Having a daughter could be both sweet and scary, he thought, realizing the impact of her words.

“But it’s true. I also found out that mother came from a well-known family. But she cut ties with them because she married dad,” Faith sighed, her gaze drifting to the café window. “I wish I had a powerful dad.”

Steve sighed sympathetically, picking up on Faith’s frustration, as well as your own from the last phone call. “What happened, Faith?”

As Faith recounted the events of the day, Steve listened intently, his expression growing increasingly enraged. “How dare they do that!” he exclaimed, slamming his fist onto the table, causing the café patrons to jump.

“There’s nothing I can do since her father is a senator,” Faith lamented.

After a moment of silence, Steve spoke firmly. “Faith, don’t worry. Your father will handle this.”

“But—” Faith began.

“It’s not my place to tell you. Believe in your father. He���s stronger and more powerful than you think.”

Faith couldn’t argue with her uncle’s words. “Fine,” she relented, grabbing her jacket. “I’ll go back.”

Steve wanted to offer her a ride home. “Let me drive you,” he suggested.

“No, it’s alright. I need some alone time. And it’s not far,” Faith declined.

Steve nodded understandingly. “Text me when you get home,” he urged.

“Okey dokey,” Faith replied before heading out of the café.

Back at home, you continued to wait anxiously for your daughter to return. Dinner time had long passed, and worry gnawed at your insides. You picked up the phone and dialed Steve. "Is Faith with you?" you asked urgently.

Steve's voice sounded grave on the other end. "She was, but she left around 4:50 p.m.," he replied.

Your heart sank. "Steve, she still hasn't come home," you exclaimed, panic rising in your chest.

Without hesitation, you jumped into your car and raced to Steve's café. He was waiting for you at the park nearby, his expression as pale as yours. You could see the worry etched on his face as you approached him, your breath coming in heavy gasps.

Coming closer, you noticed that Steve was holding Faith's smartwatch in his hand. The gravity of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks.

Faith had been kidnapped.

You panicked, struggling to catch your breath, and Steve steadied you with a reassuring hand on your back.

"I'll call for backup," Steve declared, his voice steady despite the urgency of the situation.

"I—" you began, but the sudden phone ring interrupted you both.

The familiar ringtone brought a wave of relief flooding over you. With trembling hands, you quickly accepted the call. "Bucky!"

"Honey, I'm sorry, I just got the chance to call you. I—" Bucky's voice sounded cheerful, relieved to hear his wife's voice again.

"Our daughter has been kidnapped!!!" you blurted out, the urgency in your tone cutting through the cheerful facade.

"Who dares lay a hand on our daughter?" Bucky's voice dripped with icy resolve, his tone sending shivers down your spine.

********

As Faith struggled to focus through her pounding headache, Sabrina's taunting voice cut through the dimly lit room.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Sabrina sneered, her eyes glinting with malice as she leaned in closer to Faith. "Did you have a nice nap, princess?"

Faith clenched her fists, her jaw set with determination despite her fear. "What do you want, Sabrina?" she managed to grit out, her voice trembling slightly.

Sabrina's laughter echoed off the grimy walls, sending shivers down Faith's spine. "Oh, just a little payback for ruining my life," she replied, her tone dripping with venom. "Thanks to you, my parents are furious with me. I'm grounded, all because of your little stunt."

Faith's heart sank as she realized the extent of Sabrina's anger. She knew she had caused trouble for Sabrina, but she never imagined it would lead to something like this.

Sabrina, sensing Faith's vulnerability, circled her like a predator closing in on its prey. "You think you're so smart, don't you?" she taunted, her voice laced with contempt. "Well, let's see how smart you really are when you're at my mercy."

Fear gnawed at Faith's insides as Sabrina's words sank in. She knew she was entirely at Sabrina's mercy, with no one to help her in this dark, desolate place. She braced herself for whatever torment Sabrina had in store, steeling herself for the trials ahead.

As Faith scanned the dimly lit room, her heart sank as she noticed an array of menacing tools laid out on the table. Were they planning to kill her? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt a wave of nausea wash over her.

Sabrina's malicious grin widened as she picked up a baseball bat, swinging it menacingly a few times. The sound of the bat cutting through the air sent a chill down Faith's spine, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

Closing her eyes tightly, Faith began to pray silently, her mind racing with desperate pleas for someone to come to her rescue.

With an evil smile stretching across her face, Sabrina walked menacingly closer to Faith, raising the baseball bat higher with each step. Faith could feel the weight of impending doom settling over her like a heavy blanket. She wished she had stayed home with you, safe and sound. She longed to see her father, to feel his reassuring presence beside her.

"Dad, help me," she whispered desperately, her voice barely audible amidst the tension of the moment.

"I'm here," a deep voice rumbled through the darkness, sending a surge of hope coursing through Faith's veins. Could it be? Was it truly her father?

"I'm sorry I'm late," the voice continued, each word like a beacon of light cutting through the darkness.

For a moment, Faith couldn't believe her ears. Was she in heaven? But then, a second time, the voice pierced through the silence, more tangible than ever. "Dad!!!" she exclaimed, her eyes snapping open.

Standing tall and imposing in front of her was Bucky, her father. He stood alone but radiated a sense of power and strength that dwarfed everyone else in the room. With a swift motion, he halted Sabrina's advancing bat, leaving her stunned and speechless.

Sabrina had always thought her father, Roy, was intimidating, but the aura of power emanating from Bucky now was on a whole other level. She could sense a palpable bloodlust emanating from him, a primal energy that seemed to course through his veins.

With a voice that trembled with fear, Sabrina managed to stammer out, "Who... who are you?"

Bucky's gaze bore into Sabrina with an intensity that made her shrink back instinctively. "I'm Faith's father," he declared, his voice low and commanding. "And now, I'm going to teach all of you a lesson."

*******

At the grand mansion, Roy lounged in his armchair, swirling his wine glass thoughtfully as he gazed into the crackling fireplace.

The sudden ringing of his phone shattered the tranquility of the moment. "Hello?" he answered, his voice laced with annoyance at the interruption.

"Dad!!!" Sabrina's panicked voice came through the line, causing Roy to furrow his brow in confusion.

"Why are you screaming like a crazy person?" he retorted, holding the phone slightly away from his ear.

"Someone tried to kill me!!!" Sabrina's voice trembled with fear, sending a chill down Roy's spine.

"Stop being dramatic," he scoffed dismissively, though a flicker of concern flashed in his eyes.

"She's right," a new voice interrupted, sending a shiver down Roy's spine.

"And who is this?" Roy demanded, his grip on the phone tightening.

"Your nightmare. And you're next," came the chilling response, causing Roy's blood to run cold.

"Tsk. Empty threat," Roy scoffed, though his voice wavered slightly with uncertainty.

"No, Dad. He's serious. Call all the bodyguards!!!" Sabrina's urgency cut through the air, leaving Roy no choice but to take her warning seriously.

Roy wasted no time in taking action. He swiftly dialed his secretary's number, his expression tense with determination as he issued his orders.

"Get ready for an intruder," he commanded tersely, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Call in all the bodyguards. I want the mansion secured from every angle. Do whatever it takes to protect us."

As he spoke, Roy's gaze remained fixed on the flickering flames of the fireplace, his mind racing with thoughts of the potential threat looming outside.

*******

As the night wore on, tension hung thick in the air of Roy's mansion. The threat from the mysterious voice had put everyone on edge, and they remained vigilant, acutely aware of any unusual sounds or movements.

"Good. Let that kid stay there for a while. She only brings trouble," Roy remarked, his voice tinged with bitterness as he spoke of Sabrina's misfortune.

"Who tried to hurt us?" Roy's question hung heavy in the room, unanswered and unsettling.

His wife, equally on edge, offered her own speculation. "Do you think it's the Barnes?"

Roy pondered for a moment, his brow furrowing with concern. "Impossible. I looked it up. Barnes is just a nobody."

But even as he spoke the words, doubt gnawed at him. Could he be wrong? Was there more to the Barnes family than he had initially assumed?

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the house turned eerily quiet. Too quiet.

Then, piercing through the silence, came the sound of screams echoing through the halls. "AARGH!"

"BANG! BANG! BANG!" The sharp cracks of gunfire reverberated through the air, sending shockwaves of fear through the inhabitants of the mansion.

"What the fuck is going on?" Roy demanded, his voice rising with a mixture of confusion and alarm.

"Are we going to be safe?" His wife's voice trembled with uncertainty, her eyes wide with fear.

"Don't worry, the bodyguards in this room with us are former special ops," Roy reassured, though the tension in his voice betrayed his own anxiety.

One of the bodyguards stepped forward, his posture firm and resolute. "It's alright, ma'am. We can handle this," he assured, his words instilling a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.

The door swung open, revealing just one figure standing in the doorway.

As the bodyguard moved to intercept him, Bucky strode forward confidently, his eyes fixed on Roy. "You have to stop before you get hurt," the bodyguard warned, his voice tinged with concern.

But Bucky paid no heed to the warning. With a swift motion, he grabbed the bodyguard's hand and effortlessly snapped it, causing him to curse in pain.

"Shit!" the bodyguard exclaimed, clutching his injured hand as Bucky swiftly took down the rest of the security detail with brutal efficiency.

The bodyguard, his eyes wide with shock, leaned in to whisper to his friend. "Do you think it's him? The lunatic?"

His friend's expression mirrored his own disbelief as he muttered back, "Shit. You're right."

Their hushed conversation carried a sense of unease as they watched Bucky's brutal efficiency in dispatching their colleagues, leaving them wondering if they were genuinely facing the infamous lunatic they had heard whispers about.

With blood streaked across his face, Bucky closed in on Roy, who tensed, assuming a defensive stance. "So you're strong, huh?" Roy challenged, his fists clenched as he prepared for a fight. "I was in the military too. Which special force are you from?"

"Black ops," Bucky replied curtly, his words sending a chill down Roy's spine.

Before Roy could react, Bucky unleashed a barrage of punches and kicks, each blow landing with deadly accuracy. Roy staggered backward under the onslaught, his face contorted with pain as he struggled to defend himself against Bucky's relentless assault.

Roy, already on the floor, bloodied and battered, pleaded desperately, "Wait. Wait!!! Are you Faith's father? The problem between our daughters is done. And this morning your wife also agreed to it. They're just kids."

Bucky laughed darkly, the sound chilling to the bone. "My wife gave you a last chance. But your daughter blew it," he spat out, his voice dripping with disdain.

The words "just kids" rang hollow in Bucky's ears as he thought of Faith, bruised and battered, her innocence shattered by the cruelty of others.

His heart ached at the memory, and he felt a surge of anger and helplessness wash over him.

Roy's eyes blazed with fury as he struggled to rise. "Who do you think you are? You're just a fucking nobody. I'm a senator. Even if you raze my house to the ground, tomorrow you'll be sleeping in jail. Along with your wife and kid," he declared, his voice trembling with rage and defiance.

"Oh, so you're that powerful, huh?" Bucky sneered, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he looked down at Roy.

"I'm that powerful, you son of a bitch," Roy shot back defiantly, his voice strained with anger and frustration.

With a cold smirk, Bucky reached for his old flip phone, his fingers moving with calculated precision as he dialed a number. "Senator Roy? You know him? Yeah, that one. Could you erase him? Thanks," he said casually into the phone before ending the call.

Roy's eyes widened in horror as he realized the gravity of the situation. "You..." he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the words to convey his disbelief and fear.

But Bucky wasn't finished yet. With a swift motion, he snatched Roy's phone from his trembling hands and quickly scrolled through the contacts. Finding the name he was looking for, he dialed the number without hesitation.

"Call him. Tell him there's a lunatic who wants to kill you," Bucky commanded, his voice cold and unyielding as he handed the phone back to Roy.

Roy's hands shook as he brought the phone to his ear, his heart pounding with dread. "Hello?"

"Commissioner!! There's a lunatic trying to kill me, he's hurt my daughter," Roy screamed into the phone, desperation and fear lacing his words.

But to his horror, all he heard in response was a calm voice saying, "I'm sorry, you've got the wrong number."

"What?" Roy's voice cracked with disbelief, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at the phone in trembling hands.

"Who are you? You're just a guy from a cleaning company." Roy looked up at Bucky, dis, belief etched across his bloodied face.

"You messed with the wrong daughter," Bucky replied coolly, his voice dripping with a quiet menace.

Bucky Barnes, known by the nickname "Cleaning Service," earned his moniker through his unparalleled expertise in handling the toughest missions in black ops. With hundreds of missions under his belt, not a single one had ever failed. His reputation as a lunatic preceded him, but he wore the label with indifference on the field.

However, when it came to his family, especially his daughter Faith, Bucky preferred to shed his tough exterior and play the role of a regular dad. He didn't want to frighten her with tales of his dangerous exploits; instead, he chose to shield her from the harsh realities of his profession.

But now, as danger loomed closer to home, Bucky realized that pretending to be someone he wasn't no longer served him or his family. It was time to embrace his true self and unleash the full extent of his capabilities to protect those he loved.

Before Roy could react, Bucky delivered a devastating punch that sent him crashing to the ground, unconscious.

*******

As Bucky stepped out of the mansion, a cry of relief and joy erupted from both you and Faith.

"Bucky!" you exclaimed, rushing forward to embrace him.

"Dad!" Faith called out, her voice choked with emotion as she joined in the hug.

Steve watched the heartwarming family reunion scene unfold before him, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips, especially with the backdrop of the burning house behind them.

Bucky held his daughter close, his arms wrapping protectively around her. "I'm sorry. I let you and your mother get hurt," he murmured softly, his voice filled with remorse.

Faith shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. "No, Dad. You're not late. You're so cool," she reassured him, her words filled with love and admiration.

Bucky smiled, a rare warmth spreading across his features as he looked down at his daughter. "Thank you," he said softly before gazing at you. Leaning down, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "I'm back.I will never let anyone else underestimate us ever again," he whispered, his voice filled with determination and love.

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[norrisleclercf1]

Little Champions

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader x Max Verstappen

Rating: PG

Warnings: None, just some good ole fluff

Words: 1.1K

Synopsis: It's just a normal morning in the Hamilton-Verstappen household

A/N: Yeahhhhh this was totally self indulgent

You knew the moment your little one was up; it was hard not to tell when they were awake. The little patter of feet and a giggle had you smiling, but you knew you needed to pretend to still be sleeping.

"Papa," you hear the groan of your husband next to you and a body shift. A little giggle leaves your little one's mouth, and a little weight joins you in the bed. 

"Mijn paardenbloem, you have to be quiet. Mommy is still sleeping." Max wraps his arm around his little girl and smiles, seeing the curls she inherited and the bright blue eyes that match him. "Papa, where's Daddy?" Sophie asks, looking around for her other father. "He's running, now, lay down and we can cuddle." You smile when you hear that, as Max hated being cuddled, but when it came to your baby girl, 

"Yes!" She squeals, and Max chuckles as you hear bodies moving. After some time, it grows quiet, and you peek your eyes open, seeing the sleeping faces of Max and Sophie. Silently reaching over, you grab your phone and take a picture of them, sending it to your other partner and then climbing out of bed. Walking to their side, you lean over and kiss their cheeks, their nose twitching the same way. 

Stepping out, you head to the kitchen to start on breakfast. Opening the window, you listen to the birds and smile at your little garden, which grows veggies and flowers. Sassy and Jimmy move around your feet but make sure not to trip you, as you can't see them now. "Woah," you giggle, feeling a little kick, and look down at your round stomach; about five months along, you touch where the baby kicked you. "Easy, little one," You tease and rub the area, feeling the baby kick you again. 

Humming, you start cooking the eggs and sausage and cutting up some fruit for Max and Sophie when you gasp, feeling cold hands wrap around you. "Good morning," Shivering, you turn and stare at your gorgeous, sweaty husband. "Morning, Lewis." Lewis hums and kisses you gently, which makes you sigh. "Where are Max and Sophie?" He asks, and you nod your head towards the bedroom. "Knocked out, but this one here is kicking me," Lewis chuckles and steps forward, placing his hand on your round stomach. 

"Yeah, just like Max. A fucking terror." You giggle, and Lewis smiles, bending down and kissing you right where they kick you. The kicking stops, and Lewis sighs, "I've got to take a shower," You nod and turn back to the fruit, Lewis walking into the bedroom. Tiptoeing into the room, Lewis smiles, seeing Max and Sophie curled up into one another. Leaning over, Lewis places a soft kiss on Max's temple and one on his daughter's cheek. "You smell," Lewis chuckles lowly, looking at bright blue eyes. "Yes, I was training." Max smiles, making no attempt to get up. 

"It's the summer break, Lew, enjoy it." Lewis moves, fingers moving through the short strands of blonde hair. "Just makes me feel better; besides, I have much to think about." He whispers, and Max nods, understanding. It would be Lewis's last season with Mercedes, and the car still had trouble. "Anything I can help with?" Max was soft with his question; he knew Lewis liked to work things out alone. "No, baby, I'm leaving soon anyways," Max nods and sighs, Sophie moving closer, staring down at his daughter. Lewis thinks back to when he made the decision. 

"Everything will be okay, Lewis, and we'll fight each other on track soon. You're not done." Lewis looks at Max, staring at their daughter and taking her in. "Also, I think she'd like it if Papa and Daddy were on the same podium again." That's why Lewis had to leave; Mercedes was putting more pressure on him, and he wanted to live closer to his family. Constantly flying back and forth from Britain to Monaco. At least with Ferrari, they won't bother him when he is home with family. 

Lewis's phone rings and he groans; Max reaches behind him, grabs Lewis's phone, and sees it's Toto. "No, we're about to leave for vacation; he shouldn't even be calling you," Max grumbles, sitting up and pulling away when Lewis reaches for the phone. "Max, give me the phone." Max shakes his head no and swipes left, ending the annoying ringing. "Max," Lewis groans, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "Max, phone." Max shakes his head no and gets a look in his eyes. 

Reaching over the bed, Max dodges it and lands on the other side, Sophie sitting up confused. "Max, come on. It's too early for this," Max chuckles and holds the phone up. "No, Lewis, you promised. No phones on the trip, and I see this as a work phone." Lewis leans on the bed, and Sophie giggles, thinking they are playing. "Daddy, play with me." Lewis looks up and chuckles, his baby girl's hair a mess. "Baby girl, your hair is a mess." Lewis chuckles, and Max takes the opportunity to bolt out of the room; Lewis moves but misses him and groans as Sophie laughs loudly. 

"What are you doing?" you yell, but Max doesn't answer. He runs to his SIM room and slams the door shut. "Lewis?" Lewis carries Sophie out, who giggles and worms her way down, Lewis sits her down, and she runs after her Papa. "Papa! Open!" You hear the SIM door open and then giggle, and the door closes fast. "What is he doing?" "Hiding my work phone in the cat's toys again." He shrugs his shoulders and takes a bite of the fruit. 

"You should stop bringing that phone into the house, Max hides it all the time." Lewis hums and takes a bite of his vegan pancakes. "I know, but it makes him and Sophie laugh, so it doesn't bother me." You smile, leaning over the best you can and kissing your husband. "Max, Sophie, breakfast!" Tiny feet and then heavier feet behind her as they come in, smiling brightly. She had his smile, which makes you and Lewis melt seeing it. 

"Daddy, uppy?" Sophie gives big puppy eyes, and Lewis can't resist, so he picks her up and settles her in his lap. "Can I sit there too, Daddy," Lewis cuts a glare at Max, which makes you giggle, Sophie laughing only cause you are laughing. "Find you're own seat." Max pouts but sits down next to Lewis as you serve breakfast. Lewis and Max help Sophie eat, and she basks in being spoiled by her Papa and daddy. 

Staring at your little family, you smile, touching your growing stomach with much love. Max looks up and smiles one of his toothy smiles, which makes you smile back. Yeah, you love your little family. 

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