#but it was nice that she knew enough about it to bring it up and that she was willing to. you know? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

erwinsvow · 3 days

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little sad bitchy!reader moment: her and rafe are at the country club with topper and kelce and some other friends of rafe and one of the guys starts saying how she would be a horrible wife and mother (bc of the way she is) and she honestly is so hurt by it and i think she would almost try to change the way she is around rafe a little just so he wouldn’t think that about her…

sobbing thinking about it and listening to this (https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLX2Pdcv/)

hi my love this was so amazing and wonderful to write! im sorry its kinda long, hope you like it ♡

in all honestly, you stopped caring what people said about you a long time ago. you weren't the way you were because it was funny, or to get a reaction out of others. that was just the way you've always been, and there was nothing you hated more than letting people walk all over you and get away it.

that must be why the comebacks would fly out of your mouth before you could stop them, if you even wanted to stop them. why you never stopped to think twice about the people who didn't want to talk to you again or the boys who didn't want a second date.

you weren't easy to handle, not that you wanted to be, but you knew you weren't.

it seemed easy enough for rafe though.

he never seemed to wish that you'd bite your tongue or tell you to act differently, behave a certain way. no, he'd laugh and fire back something, or agree with you and say something you remember to add to your collection of insults.

rafe liked you as you were. that's why he fought so long and hard to get you, something that you didn't take lightly. you were committed, and the more days that went by, you found yourself softening up more and more with him.

rafe knew a side of you that a select few had ever seen, much less engaged with. you liked it this way, having a boyfriend you could be yourself around and be a little soft around.

until you overhear a boy at the club talking about you. in all your years of life, you've never let a boy make you feel upset, and you didn't want to start now. a comeback brews the second he mentions your name—of course it's the idiot one, the one whose parents pay for his grades and doesn't know anything besides losing at pong and scaring away girls—but it dies in your throat when you hear the words that follow.

"i mean i get it, she's hot, but i don't know how cameron puts up with her."

"what're you talking about? she's just like him," kelce says, and you feel briefly grateful for him.

"dude, she's a bitch. i've never heard one nice thing come out of her mouth. totally untamed. you can't bring a girl like that home to your folks, they'd hate her. especially his folks. and don't even mention long-term. imagine coming home after working all day and your girl is bitching at you? i mean, no offense but what kind of kids is she gonna raise?"

you hear laughter, and when your face feels wet, and you're confused for a moment. you look up at the ceiling, wondering if there's a leak, when your eyes flood again and more tears fall down.

crying, and that too over what one of rafe's friends said about you. this isn't like you. frankly, it's pathetic. those idiotic boys don't know the first thing about you or your relationship with rafe—they don't know the conversations you have and all the things you both agree on and the way he laughs when you fire back at him.

but somehow, feet leading you outside and to your car, fingers texting rafe some excuse for why you went home early, you end up letting it affect you.

rafe comes over the next morning—he texted you something but you didn't reply. worried for a moment about something you've never been concerned with before, you think a nicer girl would have texted him back right away, that you should have texted him back.

he doesn't knock, never does. your parents aren't home but he has your spare key, letting himself in and up to your room. he stops at the doorway, leaning against the frame.

"hey. what happened last night?" he asks it like he doesn't know what happened—which is good, you want it to stay that way. the thing you would have said yesterday bubbles up, coming to your lips. maybe if you'd gotten your head out of your ass, you'd see my text.

"wasn't feeling good. came home."

"you feelin' okay now?" he gets closer to you, and you look up at your boyfriend. i'd be fine but that asshole you already hate ruined my mood. will you run him over in your truck?

"better." you stop for a moment, you don't want him to think something's wrong. "how was your night?" he looks at you a little confused.

"it was fine. borin' without you. kelce asked where you went too."

"y'know i always liked kelce," you say, smiling again. you think you can get better at this.

rafe takes you out for lunch, and then you wanted to go shopping in the afternoon and get your nails done. it's a whole day, and you like spending it with him. you swallow down what your mind usually thinks and opt for being nice instead, polite questions and trepid commentary.

the waiter brings you the wrong drink—and though you're not so much of a bitch to hurl insults at teenager servers, you're normally annoyed enough to say something and get your correct drink. instead you sip it quietly, waiting for rafe to start the conversation. when you don't, he looks at you in that confused way again.

"you okay?"

"yeah. fine. you okay?"

if he thinks something's wrong, he doesn't say anything. at the mall, nothing looks how you want and even the things you like don't feel right. you'd let rafe buy you whatever you want, normally giving him a twirl in the dressing room and thanking him very sweetly.

"you want that dress?" rafe asks, his arm resting on a rack while you comb through mindlessly.

"no, it was too short."

"that's never been an issue before." ha-ha. pervert. looking up my skirt aren't you? knew you were desperately horny for me but this is down bad even for you.

"trying to dress better. and it'll be cold soon."

"hey, look at me." rafe uses his hands on your shoulders to turn you from the clothes, facing him. "you okay baby?"

fuck, you know you messed up. he only calls you that when he's being serious—the rest of the time it's princess, angel, sweetheart. all things that you are definitely not.

"i'm okay. i just don't want it. but thank you." you don't know it, but he thinks you're upset with him, spending the next hour in the nail salon racking his mind for the reason why.

your nails are fine, they look pretty enough. shorter than normal with a clean french manicure, you admire them from a distance. you suddenly feel like crying again, wondering why you didn't get the pink acrylics you like, rhinestones and bows and all the other things that were pretty to look at when you flipped people off.

in rafe's passenger seat after, you keep staring at your hands, feeling another tear slip down. rafe's not looking at you, he's looking ahead, still unsure what was going on.

"baby, if i did something you gotta tell me, i don't like seein' you like this-" when he turns his head to glance at you, you're looking back at him with your pouty face and wet cheeks—two things he's never seen before. "hey. what's wrong?"

you couldn't stop the downpour if you tried—tears falling quick and fast. you hate that anyone's seeing you like this, especially rafe.

rafe is nice to you, and you soften up around him. you didn't really realize that he softens up around you too. he wipes your tears away, keeps a hand on yours the whole time.

"can you talk to me? what's goin' on?"

"yesterday.. one of those guys said that i was a bitch-"

"which one? to your face? when? i'll fuckin' kill him-"

"no, he didn't know i was there. it's not that, i know i am. i don't care about that. he said that-" your voice cracks, something else you hate, that you don't want rafe hearing. "sorry. he said you couldn't bring me home. and that you would hate coming home to me-me being all mean. and that our kids would be mean too."

yes, you're mean. but rafe's mean too, and none of your friends have ever said anything like that about him. you like that he's mean, that he's like you—you think he's the closest thing to a soulmate you could ever find.

"don't fuckin' listen to any of them for a second, got it? they don't know anything."

"rafe, i-"

"no, seriously. they yap because i wasn't there to knock him out. and he says it when you're gone 'cause he knows you'd make him cry if you were there." you sniffle, though you already feel better.

"but i didn't. i started crying instead." you hate even thinking about it.

"s'okay, it happens. but don't believe a word of that shit. i wanna come home to you everyday. hear everything you say. i want all of it."

"really?" you ask him, wiping away your tears, appreciating the hand on your thigh and how sincerely he's looking at you. "i thought you'd be mean if i cried in front of you."

"it's hard enough to be mean to you."

"you're such a sap. should we go get ice cream and braid each others hair after this?" he laughs, and you laugh. "thanks rafey."

"no problem, kid."

"don't call me that." rafe groans, and you smile.

#bitchy reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader

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miirohs · 3 days

Text

nothing on me but you [l.d.n]

pairing: Mob Boss!Lando Norris x Assistant!Reader wc: 1.0k cw: slight dubcon (they kiss while reader is under influence and without permission), possessive behavior, he is a red flag lowkey? an: and when the world needed her most, she came back (after crying for 2 weeks straight and slapping herself to pull it together)... chat i didn't cook with this one pls dont flop.

You could feel people's eyes on you even as you left the hall, talking quietly among themselves as you clung on tighter to Landos arm, almost trying to make yourself invisible.

You could hear their still hear their sighs of pity, following you out the building.

You knew exactly what they were whispering were about.

It wasn’t a secret that Lando was a playboy, and now everyone assumed you were just another one of the bodies in his count. You were madly in love with him, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to face the fact that you were just another thing he would claim, sooner or later.

As the cold wave of realization and sadness washed over you, you let go of your grasp around his shoulders, gently prying his hands off you as you stood still. You hadn’t drunk enough to be able to forget a whole car ride home.

“Sir, this doesn’t look right, I think you should just let me go home by myself.” You mumbled, head hanging in shame as he turned back to you. The alcohol wasn’t wearing off quick enough.

“Leave you alone? Drunk?” He said, tone incredulous as you looked at him.

“Mmmh, I could just call an uber…?” You trailed off, noticing the look of annoyance on his face. He rarely hid anything from you, especially not his displeasement.

“An uber? I don’t think it would be very wise of me to leave you alone like that, I'm surprised you could even suggest such a thing while I'm still here.” He said sternly, reaching out to grab your hand firmly. “C’mon, you’re in no state to leave on your own baby.”

His car was parked at the corner, lavish from the outside and especially on the inside as you slid in, letting go of his hand as he shut the door with a smile.

The car ride was met with a charged silence, comfortably settled between you. You could see the city lights from your window, beating brightly in the distance. You kept stealing glances at him every now and then, watching as the light from the streets passed over his eyes, jewelry glinting softly. His hand gripped the wheel as he drove, humming something softly. The song playing softly in the background seemed to tune out as his hand intertwined into yours.

It was just too calm. You just couldn’t bear the silence any longer.

“Sir, i just wanna ask-”

“Lan.”

You paused, taken aback by the sudden interruption.

“I’m sorry?”

“Start calling me Lan again. I miss it.”

You hadn’t called him that in ages, not since the days of your early and very short friendship. You wondered what could’ve brought it up, but you were in no place to say no.

For a moment, you wondered if he felt the same.

“Sir- I mean Lan, what are you doing this for?”

“So what, I can’t do nice things for you?” He chuckled, cringing slightly as the edge in his voice betrayed him. His hand slipped away from yours and you wanted to grab it back, but shame kept you from doing so.

“Well, i just assumed that you just wanted to-” He turned towards you, eyes dark as he looked you up and down.

“Assumed that I was doing this just because I wanted you in my bed? Have you been listening to what all those worthless people whisper about you and me then?” He tsked, clearly peeved by the things coming out of your mouth.

“Isn’t that what you did for all the other ones too? I’m just one of many-” His grip on the wheel tightened, knuckles turning white.

“Who said that you were one of all those other ones, baby?”

His words cut through the ache in your heart like a knife. You almost couldn’t breathe, thoughts filling your head at what he’d just said.

"Baby, who said that you were one of all those other ones?" he repeated softly, his voice gentle in comparison to the deadly smile on his face.

You swallowed hard, finding it hard to think under his intense glare. “I- I don’t know. I just thought that maybe we’d be better off parting ways because clearly people don’t-”

“You’re such a liar baby, you know that?”

“What?” Your heart dropped.

You hadn’t realized you had reached his sprawling mansion, the lights coming alive as you came to a sharp stop at his doorstep.

He hadn’t unlocked the door handles either, turning off the ignition and then turning to you.

“Such a liar, baby.” There was warmth in the laughs he let out, yet his expression was unreadable as his hand gently cupped the back of your neck, bringing your face closer to his.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me. Can you imagine how mad it made me up to see you look at other people like that?” He hissed, lips almost up against yours.

You whined as he moved away, smirking at your state.

You wanted him desperately, and he knew. “Can’t you see that I want you? And don’t lie, I know you want me too. Don’t think I haven't seen the way you’ve looked at me.” He cooed, leaning into you.

You faltered, unable to form a coherent response as Lando’s hand moved to your cheek, his touch comforting and suffocating at the same time.

“I want y-“

But before you could utter another word, he pulled you in, pressing his lips firmly against yours. He gnawed at your bottom lip, slipping his tongue into your mouth, the aftertaste of champagne overpowering it all.

You broke from it, inhaling deeply before he pulled you in once more, relentless in the way he greedily devoured the air from you. His grip on your nape had loosely returned, thumb running up and down the back of your neck before his hand slowly ran down the backless dress.

You pushed him away again, softer this time as you choked on the sudden intake of air.

His head ran up and down your back, eventually wrapping around your waist to bring you closer to him.

“I want nothing on me but you, have I made that clear? I love you.” He whispered, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Lando.”

“Say it back, please.” He begged, a slightly pout forming in his face.

“I love you too, Lan.”

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wannab3-writer · 2 days

Text

Country Club Rivalry

PATRICK ZWEIG X CHILDHOOD FRIEND READER (some Art x reader)

NOTES : GOD, how I tried to make this an Art x Reader because I'm an Art GIRLIE, but Pat just had to come out on top for this one, truly…"

WARNINGS — 18 + content mdni, fem!reader, not proofread

wc: 5.3k

description:

When three friends work at the same country club, things are bound to get messy—especially when they have a bet about who can win over the reader first.

The Oakridge Country Club was bustling with its usual summer energy. Guests lounged by the pool, chatting under the striped umbrellas, while golf carts zipped along the winding paths. The sun blazed overhead, casting sharp shadows on the clay tennis courts where Patrick and Art were finishing their morning lessons.

You stood at the server station near the patio, jotting down drink orders on your notepad. It wasn't your first summer at the country club, but you still enjoyed the easy rhythm of the job—the way the breeze rustled through the trees, the laughter of kids playing by the pool, and the familiar faces of the regulars.

Patrick waved at you from across the tennis courts, his hair tousled from teaching. He was grinning like he always did when he'd just finished a good session. Art stood beside him, spinning his racket in his hand, looking relaxed and effortlessly charming.

"Hey, how's your section?" Patrick called, jogging over with Art trailing behind. He was wearing his usual tennis gear, white shirt, and shorts, with a blue visor to keep the sun out of his eyes.

"Pretty good," you replied, glancing at your notepad. "Mrs. Anderson is on her third mimosa, so I'm expecting a big tip."

Art laughed. "Better watch out, she's got a mean backhand when she's tipsy. I saw her smack a golf ball into the pond last week. Her caddie still hasn't recovered."

Patrick chuckled, shaking his head. "Classic Mrs. Anderson. Did you know she was a tennis champion back in the day? She could probably still give us a run for our money."

Art leaned in, lowering his voice. "Speaking of giving people a run for their money, I heard you've been racking up the tips lately. What's your secret?"

You shrugged with a playful smile. "Just being nice to people, Art. You should try it sometime."

Patrick laughed and nudged Art's shoulder. "Yeah, Art, maybe if you focused less on flirting with every guest and more on your job, you'd make some tips, too."

Art feigned shock. "Me? Flirting? I don't know what you're talking about." He turned to you with a charming grin. "Do you think I'm a flirt?"

You raised an eyebrow. "A little, but that's your thing, right? I mean, it's not like you're betting on who can get the most milfs phone numbers or anything." Clearly sarcastic.

Patrick shot Art a look, then quickly turned to you with a smile. "Yeah, nothing like that. We just... like to keep things interesting."

Art nodded, but you noticed a brief flicker of guilt in his eyes. It was subtle, but it made you wonder if there was more to their competition than met the eye.

"Well, whatever it is, just don't bring any drama into my section, okay?" you said, playfully tapping your notepad against Art's chest. "I've got enough to deal with without you two causing trouble."

Patrick raised his hands in mock surrender. "No drama, I promise. We'll be on our best behavior."

Art winked. "Scout's honor."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help but smile. Despite the teasing and the occasional competitive streak, you knew they meant well. It was just another summer at the country club, where the days were long, the sun was hot, and anything could happen.

Anything.

---

The Club had settled into its evening rhythm by the time you reached the bar. Fairy lights twinkled overhead, casting soft glimmers on the stone patio. The air was warm and fragrant with the scent of blooming jasmine and freshly cut grass. A live band played classic rock covers, the gentle strum of guitars mingling with the murmur of patrons relaxing after a day of golf and tennis.

Patrick was at a corner table, nursing a glass of whiskey on the rocks. He looked up from his phone and waved you over, a broad smile lighting up his face. He'd changed out of his tennis instructor uniform into a casual blue polo and jeans, his hair still damp from a quick shower.

"Hey, there you are!" he said, using his foot to pull out a chair for you. "I was starting to think you forgot about me."

You shook your head with a grin. "Please, I could hear your bad jokes all the way from the kitchen. Had to come and see what was so funny."

Patrick laughed, setting his phone aside. "You know I'm hilarious. You just pretend not to appreciate my sense of humor."

You took a seat and glanced around. The bar was lively but not overcrowded. A group of older couples was playing cards at a nearby table, and a few teenagers from the tennis program were playing darts in the corner. It felt like the perfect end to a busy day.

"So, what are we drinking tonight?" Patrick asked, gesturing to the menu. "I've got whiskey, but I hear the margaritas are pretty good."

You considered for a moment. "Let's go with the margaritas. I need something fruity after today."

Patrick flagged down the bartender, who quickly mixed up a pitcher of margaritas with a generous splash of tequila. He poured you a glass and handed it over with a mock bow. "Your drink, my liege. May it bring you all the fruitiness you desire."

You raised your glass with a chuckle. "Thank you, William,” you turn towards the brunet “To Patrick, who somehow managed not to break any tennis rackets today. It's a new record!"

Patrick clinked his whiskey against your glass. "And to you, for not spilling any drinks on Mrs. Anderson. She's still mad about last summer's 'mimosa incident.'"

You rolled your eyes, remembering the time you accidentally spilled a tray of drinks on Mrs. Anderson's white dress during a particularly hectic brunch. "Don't remind me. I had to run for cover like I was in a war zone. I thought she’d have my head.”

Patrick laughed, the sound warm and familiar. "You should've seen her face. It was like you'd ruined her entire day. But hey, at least you got to keep your job."

As the two of you shared stories and relived old memories, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow across the patio. The band transitioned to a slower song, adding a mellow vibe to the evening.

Art arrived a little later, his tennis gear replaced by a button-down snap back and jeans. He had a confident stride and a smile that seemed to draw attention wherever he went. He slid into the seat next to you, his presence bringing a shift in the energy at the table.

"What's up, party people?" he said, his voice smooth and inviting. "I hope you saved some margaritas for me."

Patrick handed him a glass. "Of course, wouldn't want our little Arty to feel left out.” He added leaning into Art smirking. “What took you so long anyways, Shelly needed some one-on-one time to work on her underhand? Or what. ”

You smirked. "You really think He’s that charming, huh?” she turns towards Art looking into his eyes “What’s your secret hmm? Is it the cologne?"

Art leaned in with a grin. "It's all about confidence. And maybe a little bit of cologne. But mostly confidence."

Patrick rolled his eyes. "Right, because confidence is what you exude. You should've seen Art on the tennis court today. He was so confident he almost hit a kid with a tennis ball."

Art raised an eyebrow. "Almost. That's the key word. No harm, no foul."

The banter continued, the three of you falling into an easy rhythm. Art's charm contrasted with Patrick's laid-back, cheeky style, and you found yourself enjoying the playful back-and-forth.

As the evening progressed, you noticed Patrick watching Art with a hint of unease. It was subtle, like a flicker in his eyes whenever Art made you laugh a little too hard or leaned in a little too close.

---

"All right, we're here. Try not to break anything, okay? Last time you were here, my mom couldn't find her favorite vase for a week."

Art smirked, stepping inside. "That wasn't my fault! How was I supposed to know it was on top of the fridge? Who puts a vase on the fridge, anyway?"

Art dropped his bag in his Patrick’s room and looked around. The place had an eclectic charm—walls lined with tennis trophies, faded concert posters, and family photos. A stack of video games sat beside the TV.

Patrick led the way into the kitchen, grabbing a couple of beers from the fridge. He tossed one to Art, who caught it with ease. "So, what are you in the mood for? I was thinking pizza, but we can order something else if you're not into it."

Art popped open the bear and took a sip. "Pizza sounds good. Just no anchovies, okay? That stuff is nasty."

Patrick laughed, opening his own soda. "You're missing out, man. Anchovies are a delicacy." He grabbed the phone and dialed the pizza place, ordering a large with pepperoni and sausage. "There, something a bit more your speed. Happy now?"

Art nodded, leaning against the counter. "Yeah, that'll work. So, you ready for tomorrow? Two-on-two is serious business. We can't afford to slack off."

Patrick waved a hand dismissively. "Please, I'm always ready. Besides, we've got the advantage. I mean, have you seen the other teams? Half of them can't even hit a backhand."

Art chuckled. "You're so modest, Patrick. What would you do without me to keep you humble?"

Patrick shrugged with a grin. "Probably win more matches.”

Art threw a punch at Patrick's shoulder, and Patrick pretended to wince. They both laughed, the kind of easy camaraderie that came from years of friendship and shared jokes. But there was also a subtle tension in the air, like they were both aware of the unspoken rivalry that had been growing between them.

"So," Patrick said, leaning back against the kitchen island, biting his lip "you and […] seemed pretty chummy tonight. What's the story there? You trying to make a move, or what?" The familiar smirk making its way to his face.

Art raised an eyebrow, his expression guarded. "We're just talking. Nothing wrong with getting to know someone, right?" He finished wetting his lips.

Patrick smirked. "Sure, nothing wrong with that.” He shrugged. “But you're not just getting to know her. You're flirting, and we both know it." He took a couple steps forward “Basically eye fucking her, to be honest” He only smiled.

Art shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Oh, come on Pat, maybe, She's just fun to be around, you know. No need to be gross." Art gave him a wry smile. "You know me. I just go with the flow. If she likes hanging out with me, who am I to complain?"

Patrick leaned in, lowering his voice. "Or maybe, you think she's interested in you. Is that what this is about? You think you've got a shot?" His eyes scanning arts face.

Art met his gaze, his expression calm but with a hint of challenge. "I don't know, man. Maybe I do. What does it matter to you huh? You think you've got the inside track because you've known her longer?"

Patrick grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I mean, it doesn't hurt. We've got a lot of history. I'm charming, good-looking, and I've got the best jokes. What's not to like?" he goes back to lean on the counter. “Besides, I’ve seen the real her, all of it, kinda gives me a little advantage don’t you think.”

Art halts, stops chewing his gum, straitening himself up. “What’s that supposed to mean Patrick.”

“Exactly what it you think.” He kissed his teeth, kicking off the counter and going back to looking inside the fridge.

Art chuckled, but there was a hint of envy in his laugh. "Well, if you're so confident, maybe we should make it interesting. How about a little bet? See who can win her over first?"

Patrick waved his hand dismissively. "Little Arty wants a bet he’ll lose?” He chuckles. “No games. Just a simple bet. May the best man win."

Art held out his hand, and Patrick shook it with a grin. The bet was sealed, but there was an underlying seriousness in Art's eyes. As they waited for the pizza, the two friends continued their banter, but there was a new edge to their jokes—like the stakes had just gotten a little higher.

---

A week after their doubles match, the annual Oakridge Country Club gala was in full swing, the ballroom bustling with elegantly dressed members and guests. The chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting warm light onto the neatly set tables, while smooth jazz played in the background. You stood near the entrance, surveying the glamorous crowd, your fitted dress drawing approving glances from a few partygoers.

Art was the first to spot you, leaning against a wall with a cocktail in hand, chatting up club regulars. He was dressed in a sharp suit, but he carried himself with a boyish charm. His grin was wide as he motioned for you to come over, his eyes moving from your head to your heels in a way that felt like a visual undressing.

"Wow," he said, raising his glass, "you clean up nice. I was expecting you to show up in your waiter outfit or something. I'm glad you went with the dress, though. Much more... appealing."

You gave him a playful smirk, stepping up to the bar. "Thanks, Art. I do my best to impress." You glanced at his drink. "Are you trying to get a head start on the partying? We haven't even hit the dance floor yet."

He took a sip, his gaze lingering on your lips. "Hey, I like to loosen up a bit before the main event. Keeps things interesting. Besides, you can't blame a guy for wanting to enjoy himself, right? You gonna help me enjoy my night and keep me company?"

Patrick, who was laughing with a group nearby, walked over just in time to catch Art’s comment. He gave Art a look of mild disapproval, then turned to you with a sly smile.

"Don't listen to him. He's just trying to get you alone so he can talk your ear off about his latest tennis game.” Patrick shrugged, looking at Art with a smirk. "So boring. I was thinking we could have some real fun; you know? A little adventure never hurt anyone." He leaned closer, his voice barely audible over the music. "Besides, I know all the best spots around here. Private spots. You'd love it."

Art shook his head, clearly not amused. "Come on, Patrick. We're here to enjoy the gala, not to sneak off like we're in high school. Why don't we all just enjoy the party and see what happens?"

Patrick grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say, Art. But if you change your mind,” he turn towards her. “You know where to find me. I'll be the one having a good time." He turned to you with a suggestive wink while walking backwards to god knows where.

Art rolled his eyes, then smiled at you in a more relaxed manner. "Sorry about him, he’s not really allowed to leave the house. He's a good guy, but he doesn't always know when to tone it down. If you want, I can keep him from getting too out of hand. I wouldn't want him to scare you off." He says mocking Patrick as he walked away.

You laugh full heartedly glancing at Patrick, who was already chatting with a couple of other guests, his flirtatious demeanor on full display. " Thanks so for watching out for me. It can get a little overwhelming with him around." You continued smiling.

Art nodded smiling, his expression kind. " I was thinking we could get some food, maybe hit the dance floor. What do you think?" Art suggested, leading the way. "I'm sure Patrick will join us once he's done charming the entire room."

Patrick shot Art a mischievous look but didn't follow immediately. You could tell he was reveling in the attention, his flirtatious behavior attracting more than a few curious glances from the other guests.

The band switched to a slow, romantic melody, and Art extended his hand to you with a charming smile. "Care to dance?" he asked, his eyes warm and inviting.

You nodded, accepting his offer, and he led you onto the dance floor. His touch was gentle yet confident as he pulled you close, swaying to the music with practiced ease.

As you danced with Art, you felt yourself relaxing into his embrace. His presence was comforting, his movements smooth and graceful. You couldn't help but smile as you looked up at him, feeling a somewhat new sense of closeness.

Halfway through the song, Patrick appeared out of nowhere, a cocky grin on his lips. "Mind if I cut in?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

Before you could respond, he swept you away from Art, taking you into his arms with a boldness that made you some type of way. His touch was hot, his body pressed close to yours as he guided you across the dance floor.

"So, you replacing your best friend with that ginger?" he asked, his voice low and suggestive. "Boring you to tears yet?" He raised a brow.

You laughed, unable to resist his playfulness. "Hmm maybe. He's actually a great dancer, unlike some people."

Patrick smirked, pulling you even closer. "Yeah, but can he do this?" With a sudden flourish, he spun you around, his movements fluid and confident. "Do I need to remind you why I’m better.” He paused.

“How, I’m better.”

You chuckled rolling your eyes, enjoying the thrill of dancing with Patrick. He was unpredictable, to say the least, his smile contagious. But as much as you were drawn to him, you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for leaving Art behind.

Patrick reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and offering you one with a sly grin. "Care for a smoke?" he asked, lighting his own with practiced ease.

You just shook your head with hesitant smile. “I really shouldn’t, Pat. You know I’m trying to quit.”

He looks you up and down with a seductive look.

“We’ve all got our guilty pleasures, darling.”

As the song came to an end, Patrick took your hand, leading you away from the dance floor and out onto the club’s private beach. The cool breeze off the ocean felt refreshing against your skin, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore was soothing.

You hesitated for a moment, then accepted the offer, taking the cigarette from him and inhaling deeply. The nicotine hit you like a rush of adrenaline, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration as you exhaled a cloud of smoke into the night air.

"So, what do you think?" Patrick asked, his eyes searching yours. "Having fun yet?"

You nodded, feeling a sense of liberation wash over you. "Yeah, I am. Thanks for... you know, stealing me away." You added motioning to the cigarette.

Patrick grinned, leaning in closer. "Anytime, sweetheart. Just say the word, and I'll whisk you away to paradise."

You laughed, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest.

Patrick decided to sit down in the sand, his cigarette glowing in the darkness as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. You sat beside him, savoring the familiar scent of his cologne.

He took a long drag from his cigarette, then shot you a sidelong glance. "You know, I was just thinking about that first summer at tennis camp," he said, his voice low and playful. "I mean, it's where it all started, right? Just a couple of kids swinging rackets and making trouble."

You smiled at the memory. "Yeah, it's crazy to think about how much has changed since then. Who would've thought you'd actually make it big in tennis? Meanwhile, I could barely keep the ball on the court."

Patrick laughed, a warm, hearty sound that cut through the night air. "Yeah, well, I guess I had a little more motivation to stick with it. You were off climbing trees and playing in the woods, and I was stuck with a bunch of coaches yelling at me to hit harder."

"Hey," you replied with a smirk, "it's not like I was useless. I remember showing you all the best spots to hide when you wanted to skip practice."

Patrick nodded, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, I remember. You were the queen of avoiding responsibility. If it weren't for you, I'd probably have become a strait-laced tennis prodigy. Instead, you dragged me into the wilderness to make forts and find weird bugs."

You both chuckled, reminiscing about those lazy summer days when tennis camp was more of a suggestion than a requirement. But then Patrick's expression turned sly, and he leaned in a bit closer.

"Speaking of weird things from our past," he said, his voice dripping with playful insinuation, he nudged you. "You remember that bet we made? The one about if we were both green by the time you turned 16, we'd, you know, be each other's first?"

Your face grew warm at the memory. It had been a silly bet between two best friends who figured they'd never find anyone else in their small circle. But the fact that you followed through with it made it more than just a joke.

"Yeah," you replied, pretending to be nonchalant, "I remember, Pat we’re not that old. It was a dumb bet, but I guess we kept our word, didn't we?"

Patrick nodded, a cheeky grin spreading across his lips. "We sure did. And you know, I wasn't expecting it to be so... memorable. I thought we'd just laugh about it later, but it was kind of nice. You know, like a rite of passage or something."

You laughed, trying to deflect his innuendo. "A rite of passage? Yeah, right. More like a hilarious disaster. I mean, you had no idea what you were doing."

Patrick raised an eyebrow, his grin growing wider. "Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad. Besides, you were just as clueless. At least I managed to keep my cool, mostly."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help but smile at his cockiness. "Mostly, huh? If I remember correctly, you tripped over your own shoes and nearly fell face first."

Patrick groaned, but his eyes sparkled with amusement. "Okay, maybe I was a little clumsy. But you have to admit, it was an experience neither of us will forget. And hey, we did it together. That's gotta count for something, right?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of nostalgia and fondness. "Yeah, it does. I'm just glad it didn't ruin our friendship. It could've been awkward, but it wasn't."

Patrick leaned in, his gaze locking with yours. "Of course it wasn't. We were best friends. We still are. And besides, even if it was a bit awkward, it was worth it. You know, just to say we did it." He flicked the ash from his cigarette, then added with a wink, "And hey, I was your first. That's something not everyone can say."

You laughed, pushing him lightly on the shoulder. "Yeah, well, don't let it go to your head. You still have a long way to go before you become a pro. But if you need any advice on how to avoid tripping over your own shoes, I'm here for you."

Patrick grinned, taking a final drag from his cigarette before tossing it into the sand. " If you ever want to make another bet, I'm always up for it. " He Looks at you seductively, his eyes full of mischief. " I think if you were to give me another chance, you’d find that I’ve improved quite a bit. " He gives you his signature smirk.

You scan his face trying to find sincerity in his words, not sure how you’d feel if he was. “What are you trying to get at Patrick?”

“Nothing at all.” He raised his hands in a surrender, cigarette in mouth looking away. “I’m just saying, I feel like I deserve a redemption arc,” He takes his cigarette putting out in the sand. “I wasn’t the most…giving you can say.” He looks back at you, under his brows. “And I just want to show you that I’ve changed, for the better.” He offers a smile.

You just nod your head in fake agreement. “Uhh, how much have you had to drink tonight pat? Is it time to call you a cab?” You questioned with a week smile.

“Oh, shut up, I’m dead sober.” He said leaning in. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "Besides, what's life without a little adventure?"

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his touch. It was a simple gesture, but there was something in the way he did it that made your heart skip a beat. Patrick had always had a way of pushing boundaries, but tonight, he seemed more deliberate, more intent.

"Adventure?" you replied, your voice slightly breathless. "Are you planning something?"

Patrick's smile grew, his eyes locking with yours. "Maybe. But you know me—always full of surprises." He stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on your waist. "But I promise, it'll be a good one."

You felt a rush of heat at his touch, the closeness between you stirring something deep within. Patrick leaned in, his lips just inches from yours. "So, do you trust me?" he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "No I don’t, Patrick, because I know you. Why? What are you up to?"

Patrick's gaze grew more intense, his eyes fixed on yours. "I just wanted to try something." He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, a teasing touch that sent a jolt of electricity through you.

The kiss deepened, the heat between you building as Patrick pulled you closer. His hand slid around your waist, holding you firmly as he kissed you with a newfound intensity. The sound of the waves seemed to fade away, replaced by the pounding of your own heart.

Patrick's other hand cupped your cheek, his touch gentle yet assertive. His kiss was slow and deliberate, each movement a carefully orchestrated dance that left you breathless. As his lips moved against yours, you felt a rush of desire, a connection that seemed to transcend words.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were dark with emotion. He looked at you, his lips slightly parted, as if he was trying to read your thoughts.

“Show me.” You said looking him deep in his eyes barley a millimetre away from his lips.

“Show you what darling?” He question with a smile gracing his lips

“How you’re better than Art.”

That’s not what he was expecting at all. Maybe a ‘show me how you’ve improved.’ But certainly not you using his own words against him, That’s for sure.

That didn’t stop Patrick's smile from getting bigger though, as he moved his hands all over you, bringing you in for another wet and sloppy kiss. He slowly laid you down into the sand using his teeth to slide up your dress around your waits.

He slowly kissed your stomach stopping at the hem of your thong. Moving it to the side, he slides one of his digits up and down your slit.

Looking up to you with a sly smile, he lets out a contented sigh. " Give me some of this sweet pussy." With the excited flattening of his tongue, he dives right in, right there, on the beach. Before you even having a chance to fully lay down, Patrick slides his arms beneath your legs and pulls you in.

As you begin to grind into him and yearn for more of his tongue, you play with one of your tits. Suddenly too shy to look him in the eye, you reach down and tug on his hair. You can feel your cheeks getting hot with shame at how quickly you folded for him. “Tongue fuck me, please, Pat. When did you get so good at this?”

he consumes you. his hands are playing with your ass and thighs. He kneads the skin and spreading you out. He trust his tongue into your entrance and explores your pussy. Less than a minute later, your walls start to twitch around his tongue. He takes in all your cum. When he looks up back at you, he just gives you a sly smirk.

Patrick rolled onto his back beside you, his chest heaving slightly from the intensity of what just happened. You try to get your breathing back to normal when suddenly you let out a random laugh.

Patrick turned his head, raising an eyebrow. "What's so funny?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, but his face still wet from your essence.

You shrugged, trying to stifle your laughter. "I don't know, it just hit me—how did we end up here? One minute we're at the gala, and the next we're... well, doing this." You gestured at the beach, and your unruly appearance.

Patrick grinned, rolling onto his side to face you. "Maybe it's fate," he said, his voice soft and playful. "Or maybe it's just because I couldn't resist pulling you away for a little... private time." He winked, his cheeky grin only growing wider.

You rolled your eyes, but there was no denying the warmth that spread through your chest. "Or maybe it’s because you and Art have a weird little bet going on, and for some reason, I’m in the middle of it." you replied, a teasing edge to your tone.

Patrick frowns sitting up to look at you properly. " You know about that?" He’s confused.

You let out a chuckle. "Patrick, I’m not a dumbass, like i said, i know you. And i know Art, you guys have been total try hards for the last week, sure, you’re just a whore and will flirt with anything that has a vagina, but even Art was over doing it." You swatted at his shoulder, trying to hide your smile. "Patrick, seriously," you said, though your tone lacked any real reprimand. "You always push your luck, you know that? You leaned in a little closer, your eyes locking with his.

Patrick's grin softened, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. "Yeah, well, sometimes you need a little excitement," he replied, his hand resting on your hip, a gentle reminder of his presence. "And you can't deny that you like it when I take charge. Right?" His fingers traced a light pattern along your hipbone, his touch both playful and suggestive.

You sighed, the subtle tension between you becoming more palpable. "Maybe," you replied, your voice low and teasing. "But don't think I'll always let you get away with it. Sometimes, you need to earn it."

Patrick laughed, a deep, rich sound that seemed to carry on the breeze. "Oh, don't worry," he said, his eyes narrowing with that familiar mischievous look. "I'll work for it. You just let me know when you want me to turn on the charm." He leaned in again, his lips hovering near yours, the warmth of his breath a tantalizing invitation.

You closed the gap, letting his lips meet yours in a brief, soft kiss. It was playful but laced with an underlying intensity, a promise of more to come. When you pulled back, you saw the surprise in his eyes, followed by that trademark grin.

"Consider it a preview," you said, giving him a gentle nudge. "But don't get too cocky, or I’ll make sure you lose this bet."

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

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wearebarca · 2 days

Text

Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character pt. 3

Part 1 part 2 part 3

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed too long at the same place. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

word count: 4,3K

18 + (eventually)

A/N: Hello, notify me if you'd like a little album of the pictures Rosalie takes. Spanish is from google translate so please be nice. French is my first language so all should be good on that part. Enjoy.

The question took the brunette by surprise. She could see that the footballer was getting more comfortable around her but she did not think that the woman would ask such a personal question. The subject had always been quite sensitive for the Canadian but, for unknown reasons she felt that, here, in this empty facility, with the catalonian trusting her with this whole process, she felt like she could share this bit of her story.

“ My uncle was a wedding photographer. When I was younger, he used to bring me with him to some weddings and have me play his little assistant. He would give me one of those single use cameras and tell me to capture what I found beautiful.” The memory put a nostalgic smile to the woman’s face. To this day, she still incredibly misses her uncle and wishes that he could see her today.

“My parents were busy people, so my uncle took me under his wing. He taught me everything he knew and encouraged me to pursue this passion and helped me make a career out of it.” She raised her camera and snapped a shot of the blond who was listening with a small smile on her face. “ Can you angle yourself towards the left please?”

The blond moved to the side and for the first time tonight, really took the time to look at the brunette. Her hair was in a messy bun with a few strands escaping and framing her face. Her high waisted jean shorts showed off her long legs. She had on an oversized gray grandad cardigan on top of her black t–shirt. The sleeves of her sweater were slightly too long and went over her hands. The brunette looked comfortable and at ease, she was relaxed and completely in her element. She looked nothing like the photographer’s Alexia had worked with in the past. She was used to flamboyant people who yelled orders at their models or were constantly harassing her with their camera, not this slightly awkward, caring, beautiful woman who was willingly sharing her story with the footballer.

“ He must be an incredible photographer.”

“ He was yes,” The brunette’s expression dimed at that, Alexia suddenly felt bad for bringing the subject but the smaller woman motionned to her that everything was ok and continued. “ Eleven years ago he was diagnosed with bone cancer. He died a year later, not long after my eighteenth birthday.”

“ I am sorry,”

“ Don’t be, I’m happy to talk about him,” She said smiling, “ What about you? Why football?”

“ My dad, he loved football. He was always very supportive and proud. He got sick.” The blond said, looking down, not wanting the photographer to see her be vulnerable. Rosalie felt the shift in the atmosphere and put down her camera. “ He said that he would not die before seeing his daughter play for Barcelona’s first team, but he went two months before I reached our goal.”

The brunette wanted to hug the girl standing in front of her but could not decide if she would be comfortable enough to do so. “ I am sure he is extremely proud of what you have accomplished, La reina”, the name earned the smaller woman an eye roll from the footballer who shifted in a different position for the photographer.

“ Ok, let’s get this shoot over with, I think we both deserve to go home and finally relax.” They finished up quickly and Rosalie was quite happy with the pictures that came out. While she uploaded the pictures to her computer, the blond helped picking up the equipment. Grateful for her help, the brunette promised the captain that she would bring her coffee next week as a thank you.

They walked out of the empty training center as the sun was starting to set. When the brunette reached her small car, she turned around to see the taller woman standing awkwardly behind her.

“ I just wanted to thank you for making this shooting so casual and easy.”

“ Of course, anything to make you comfortable, Alexia.” She grabbed the blond’s hand and gave it a light squeeze. “ Have a good weekend Capitana,”

“Thank you,” The blond started to walk towards her own car but turned back around after a few steps.

“ Bonne nuit Rosalià.”

The morning air was crisp against her sweat coated skin and the breeze coming from the sea kept the brunette cool even after running for an hour. It was still incredibly early in the morning and the only sounds that could be heard were the odd car passing and the sound of her feet hitting the pavement. Early morning was her favorite time to go run. It allowed her to be completely submerce by the calmness of the still sleeping city. Rosalie didn’t often run with music, preferring to listen to the sounds of her own steps, which acted as some sort of metronome for the torrent of thoughts running in her head lately.

It had been four days since her shooting with the captain and still, the whole ordeal seemed to be the subject her brain would drift back to whenever the French-Canadian would let her mind run free. The fact that the blond seemed to make tremendous effort to stay as far as she could from the photographer had not helped the questions that were quickly multiplying in her head.

Rosalie somehow thought that after that night, Alexia would be more approachable and less standoffish. But clearly the woman was not as comfortable as she thought with how vulnerable they had gotten and now she was probably regretting telling the brunette so much. Or maybe she thought that Rosalie went too far by sharing her story with the footballer. Whatever the reason was, the results were still the same.

Later today, the team will be taking off towards Sevilla for a two day trip. They would all meet at the training center and take the team bus towards the airport. Flying had always been a tricky thing for Rosalie. When she was a teenager she had been on a plane with extremely violent turbulence that had scared the girl and ever since, flying had been one of the woman’s biggest fears. Her friends had always found the thing ironic, since the brunette's job required Rosalie to fly frequently and said that she should’ve gotten used to it by now. But nonetheless, every time the photographer simply thought about flying, she would get restless and anxiety would start creating a pit in her stomach.

This was the reason why she was currently out at such an ungodly hour, trying to literally run away from her anxious thoughts. Around her she could see that the small coffee shops that were lined on the streets were starting to set up their front patios in order to open and the smell of freshly baked pastries was floating in the morning air. A quick look at her watch told her that she still had a good three hours before Lucy and Keira would arrive at her apartment to pick her up, meaning that she still had time to hit the half marathon mark before heading back.

She wasn’t used to running this long on morning runs, but she had gone over her training program with Sara, one of the coaches and switched up her training to make it more challenging. So far her breathing was good and she could feel the slight burn of her legs but overall, her pace was good and she was more than satisfied with her time.

Sara had been a true angel this past week. She had helped the runner organize a new training plan that was focused more on endurance rather than speed. Rosalis had always struggled with long distances which was why marathons were her least favourite type of races. She was extremely hard headed though so she was still focused on mastering this type of event.

She even went as far as going running with the Canadian during the weekend. She was quite impressed by the level of fitness the brunette was displaying and found that she very much appreciated the company of the French-Canadian. After their run they had stopped at a local café and had agreed to room together during the upcoming trip.

When Rosalie arrived at her apartment complex, she noticed the couple’s car parked by the door. She checked her watch to see that she technically still had at least an hour and a half before they were supposed to be here. She opened her door to come face to face with a sleeping form on her couch and Lucy running around in her kitchen.the smell of crêpe was wafting in the space.

“ Took you long enough,” The older woman whispered, handing Rosalie a fresh cup of coffee.

“How did you even get in here?”

“ You’re the one who left her door unlocked Rosie, which is not very safe darling you should be more careful.”

The blob of blankets on the couch stirred enough to reveal disheveled blond reddish hair. “ Lucy, please shut your mouth. I'm trying to sleep here.”

Rosalie made her way to the living room and jumped on the woman who screamed at the Canadian to get off.

“ Frenchy you smell like ass go shower, Mama Bronze isn’t done with food anyway.”

After her shower the brunette put on some comfortable clothes consisting of the staff’s tracksuit pants, a white t-shirt with the Barcelona logo and the Nike club vest that had quickly become one of her favorite articles of clothing. When she came back in the kitchen, everything had been picked up and the kitchen island was dressed up with the food. Lucy and keira were already sitting down and shoveling down food.

“ Mais quel bande d’animal, sincèrement? Vous ne pouviez pas attendre que j’aille fini?”

“ Tais toi femme et viens manger.” Lucy replied with her mouth full.

“ I regret teaching you French, I hope you know that.” She sat down and sipped on her coffee. She wasn’t hungry due to the knot that kept her stomach in check. Knowing that the younger woman would most likely not be able to eat due to her nervousness, Lucy got up and pulled out from the fridge a protein smoothie she had made at home before coming over.

“Here, at least drink this, you just came back from what I assume was a big run. You gotta put something in you.”

Once breakfast was over, Rosalie finished packing up her camera bag while the girls were loading her bags in the car. The drive to the training center was quiet. Keira was still half asleep and Rosalie was simply too stressed to engage in conversation. Lucy didn’t mind the silence, she was relaxing and enjoying the time spent with two of the most important people in her life.

The bus ride with the team was more or less the same, with everyone in pretty much the same state as Keira. As they got closer to the airport, Rosalie’s nerves became worse. Her knee was bouncing up and down and the woman kept zoning out, unable to keep listening to Martina who was going on about a rumor about some people working in management. Thanks to Marcello’s participation in the conversation, Rosalie’s state remained relatively unknown. Or so she thought.

A few seats behind her, Ingrid, Alexia, Mapi, Keira and Lucy were all sitting together. Knowing that the younger girl was quite fragile at the moment, Lucy had kept a close eye on her.

“ Hermana, you keep watching Rosie, is everything good?” Mapi wondered, stretching her neck to catch a glimpse of the photographer.

“She hates flying, it affects her a lot. I just don’t want her to get too bad, you know » Alexia had also noticed the change in the brunette. The normally bubbly woman looked pale and uncharacteristically quiet.

« Can we do something to help? » Ingrid asked.

« Not really, nothing really distracts her in this situation. We just have to let her process this and stay close, just in case. » Keira replied. They were used to flying with the brunette and had tried everything to help her calm down but nothing really did the trick. She usually would put her headphones in and grip the seat as hard as she could until they would land.

Lucy got up and excused herself. Alexia watched her make her way to the front of the bus where the coaches, therapist and the rest of the staff were. “What is she doing?”

“ I think she’s trying to figure out who’s sitting with Frenchy on the plane.” Keira answered, turning towards her girlfriend.

“ They are close, Si?” Alexia’s curiosity had gotten the best of her. She wasn’t jealous, she could see that Lucy and Keira cared a lot about the green-eyed woman and she did not understand why, but she wanted to know as much as she could about her.

“ Yeah, Like sisters they are. Lucy’s very protective of her, she does have much family. We’re hers now, you know.” Keira smiled as she watched Lucy walk back to her seat, but not without stopping to drop a granola bar on The Canadian’s lap and threatening her to eat it before they boarded.

“ So who’s with her?”

“ Apparently she’s the only staff member who didn’t get a ticket in the same area, probably because they booked it after everyone else. She’s gonna sit with the team, but we don’t know our seats yet so..” She said as she sat back down.

“ It’s ok, I can ask whoever is with her to swap with me, I’ll sit with her.” Ingrid said smiling.

�� Thank you Ingrid,” Lucy said, visibly more relaxed knowing that the brunette would be with someone she seemed to trust.

At the airport, security went smoothly and the team collected their boarding passes only to be called moments later to the gate. The speed at which everything was going was a godsend for Rosalie who was too focused on making sure she had all her documents all the while taking pictures of the team, to have time to think about the moment the wheel of the plane would leave the ground.

As she walked in the tunnel leading to the aircraft, Rosalie could feel her heart hammering in her chest and her palms getting increasingly sweaty. Lucy’s grounding presence helped the brunette a little but her fear was fighting hard to gain control. The photographer checked her boarding pass for the first time since receiving it to check what seat she had been assigned.

“ where are you sitting?” The question came from Ingrid who was walking in front of them.

“ I have B47,” her answer came put a lot more calm than the woman felt as she scanned the seats to find her own.

“ That's good, Mapi and I are right in front of you,” As she was answering, the Norwegian stopped and picked up her bag to place it in the overhead bin, which told Rosalie that they had reached their seats. She walked the few steps that separated her from her seat, only to come face to face with the woman that had been occupying her mind for the last few days.

Suddenly, Rosalie’s anxiety found a new target to spiral about. A hand on her shoulder pulled the photographer out of her thoughts.

“Are you ok? We can sit together if you want? I have a few movies downloaded on my tablet. Mapi can sit with Alexia.” Ingrid asked, smiling softly at the brunette. Rosalie appreciated the dark haired girl but there's one thing that woman hated more than flying, and it was pity. She knew that they only wanted to help her but she couldn’t help but feel like they were pitying her and she didn't want to appear weak in front of her new team, which is why she politely declined, thanking the couple and placing her belongings in the bin on top of her seat.

The comotion caught the attention of the blond captain who had not seen who was prepared to sit next to her. She was more than surprised to see the photographer standing in the alley with a nervous small playing on her lips.

“ Hey,”

“Hola,” Alexia said smiling, picking up her bag from the seat next to her. She sat down next to the blond and closed her eyes to try to calm herself before take off.

Looking at the brunette, Alexia felt a strange sense of protectiveness wash over her. She wanted to make the brunette feel better, make that smile that takes her breath away appear on the photographer’s soft features. A few seats away, she could see Lucy watch them with a worried expression which Alexia answered with a reassuring smile. She would not let the brunette spiral.

Surprisingly, Alexia was not the first one to speak. “ I am sorry if I overstepped during the shooting. I didn’t want to male you feel uncomfortable.” She said, eyes still closed and head thrown back. If she was to sit with the blond for this trip, might as well try to make it a little less awkward.

“ What do you mean?”

“ I don’t know, I just don’t want you to think that I’m probing your personal life.”

“ No, no I did not think that, do not worry,” the footballer took a second to think about what she was going to say next. She was aware of her own behaviour towards the photographer. The woman made her nervous and she felt like with the brunette, she did not need to put on a controlled facade like with the rest of the media team, and that scared the Ballon d’Or winner. Alexia hated feeling like she wasn’t in complete control of herself, so the easiest solution in her mind was simply to keep her distances. But staying away from the brunette did not appease her curiosity. “ I am very sorry if I made you feel this way. I appreciate your presence Rosalia.”

The blond’s small confession made Rosalie slightly relax, enough for a small smile to escape her lips. She turned her head towards Alexia, who felt a warm feeling take place at the sight. “ I appreciate your presence as well.”

The plane jolted, signaling the brunette, who had momentarily forgotten where she was, that they would be taking off very soon. She quickly grabbed the arm rest and panic flooded brain. Alexia, who had seen the brunette deteriorate, did the first thing that came to her mind. She grabbed the hand that was gripping the arm rest and held it with her own. She reached with her other hand and gently turned the photographer’s face towards her. Green met Hazel and the brunette was instantly captured by the depth of the footballer’s gaze.

“You’re ok, hey look at me, breathe with me ok?” The blond took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her lips. The brunette followed the footballer’s lead, her eyes never straying from Alexia’s. “ bien, lo estás haciendo muy bien”

Alexia’s words ignited a small flame at the pit of the photographer’s stomach which successfully calmed some of the anxiety, but replaced it with an odd feeling that the French-Canadian was simply not ready to face yet.

“ Here take this, it'll help with the pressure,” the captain pulled out a pack of gum and popped two pieces in Rosalie’s hand. The first bite surprised the photographer who made a face that pulled a chuckle from the footballer.

“ What kind of psycho chews cinnamon gum?”

“Hey it’s good don’t be mean,” the woman answered with a hurt expression. She could see that Rosalie had calmed down quite a bit, but the deadly grip she still had on the blond’s hand showed her just how sacred the photographer was. Suddenly, they could feel the plane gain some speed and the wheel lifting off the ground. The brunette’s gaze shifted quickly towards the small window as panic clouded her eyes.

“ no, no sigue mirándome” With her hand still on Rosalie’s face, she drew the brunette closer still. Only a few inches separating the two. Rosalie could smell Alexia’s perfume, something sweet, like strawberries. She smelled like summer, it was intoxicating. She didn’t understand what the blond had said but it did not matter, since as soon as her gaze met hers, the blond smiled sweetly and Rosalie forgot once again where she was.

“ Tell me one of your happiest memories,” The French-Canadian was surprised by the blond’s question. She had gone from ignoring the photographer to taking care of her during takeoff. She knew that Alexia was simply trying to distract her, but the curiosity she could see shining through her eyes made the brunette realize that maybe, the football player didn’t hate her after all.

“ My first triathlon, it would have to be one of the most meaningful things in my life.” She answered.

“ Tell me about it, si?”

“ It was a few years ago, my uncle loved triathlons. He used to do one every summer. He also volunteered as a photographer for the races. When I got older I would volunteer with him and he used to say that I would be a great triathlete if I wanted.” She said, smiling at the memory.

“ He knew that my football days were over since I had gotten injured and needed surgery on my ankle. He said that once I’d be on my feet again I should give it a try. But I used to think that I would hate running, it was the part I hated the most during training.” Rosalie’s expression darkened.

“When he died, I thought that it would be a good way to honour him in a way, the training was so hard. I had never swum before and my cardio wasn’t great coming back from injury.” She took a deep breath and her gaze left Alexia’s to shift to their intertwined fingers.

“ But the rush of crossing the finish line was electric. It felt like I made him proud.” She looked back up only to see the captain's face lighting up along with hers.

A few seats in front of the two, Lucy was witnessing the whole thing along with Keira. They couldn’t believe what they were seeing. In the time they had known her they had never seen her be so relaxed on a plane, nor being so physically close with someone she had just met. She had always been a bit weird about physical touch, it had taken a while before she started to relax whenever the English women hugged her. But at this moment, hand in hand and only a few inches separating their faces, the photographer looked comfortable, happy almost.

The sound indicating that you could take the seat belts off pulled the two women out of their little bubble. Realizing that she was still gripping the footballer’s hand, Rosalie slowly untangled her fingers from Alexia’s and slightly pulled away from her.

“Thank you for distracting me,”

“My pleasure, I am always happy to know more about you Rosalia” The footballer turned around and pulled out her headphones from her case. Rosalie, still surprised by the blond’s statement, put one headphone back in her ear, letting the other one dangle in on her chest and closed her eyes, listening to the calming sound of her music, all the while keeping an ear out in case anything happened.

A few minutes passed, not much could be heard around. Everyone was either on their phones or had put a movie on their screen. Rosalie could see from the space between seats that Mapi and Ingrid were snuggled up and watching The Lion King on their tablet. An intense shuffling sound pulled her attention away from their screen to see Alexia intensely searching for something in her bag.

“ Ah mierda , where are they?” She sounded frustrated enough for the brunette to lean in to see.

“ Are you ok?”

“ Si, I think I did not bring my headphone charger and they just died,” The blond said frustrated.

“ Here,” The brunette took her headphone that was resting on her chest and offered it to the footballer. “ we can share if you’d like, I’m not using them both.” She said smiling.

“ You don’t mind?”

“Of course not, it’s the least I can do after you helped me like that.” She said, getting closer so the wire wouldn’t pull her other headphone out. “ What do you usually listen to?”

“ You can leave on what you were listening to, I just don’t like working without music.” The blond said, pulling out her laptop. Rosalie pressed play again and the soft piano song started again in her ear. After a moment, the blond stopped typing and spoke again.

“ This is nice, very calm, what is it called?”

“ This is Interlude by this group called London Grammar. The singer’s voice is so powerful, it’s one of my favourite groups.” she said, happy to share her music with the blond.

“ Good, I will look them up then.” The blond went back to her work, softly humming to the music in her ear. Meanwhile, Rosalie was starting to feel like her lack of sleep and intense morning run were slowly taking a toll on her body. Alexia’s calm and grounding presence, along with her perfume that flooded her senses every time she took a breath allowed the photographer to relax enough for her eyelids to become heavy. Slowly her whole body became heavy and her head lolled to the side, resting gently on Alexia’s shoulder.

At the contact, the footballer went rigid, but relaxed as soon as she realized that the photographer had finally succumbed to sleep, after being on edge all morning. Knowing she could not work without disturbing the brunette, Alexia closed her laptop and relaxed in her seat, letting the soft music guide her towards sleep as well.

A/N: feedback is appreciated

#alexia putellas #barca femeni #futfem #keira walsh #lucy bronze #woso imagine #woso community #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas x y/n #ingrid engen #mapi leon #alexia x reader

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callsign-venus · 2 days

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For the Love of Love | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw | Part III

Part I | Series Masterlist

Summary: It's time for Bradley to meet the family. Good luck :)

Word count: 5k

a/n: I started writing this in winter, and now summer is literally coming up on my ass lol. Shoutout to the southern hemisphere, this fic is in season there. But seriously, regardless of where you are in the world, hope y'all enjoy x

As your family barreled down the cabin stairs, you turned to Bradley. You weren’t sure you got the reassurance you needed when he looked up from fixing his hair in the rearview mirror, winked, and said, “Good luck, you’ll need it.”

You rolled your eyes and swung open the car door. As soon as your feet hit the ground, Tommy nearly tackled you into the snow.

Your brother was somehow still growing. Much to your annoyance, he was even taller than when you saw him last. Still, he smelled like your parents’ house, and being in his arms was like sneaking a slice of your childhood from behind the universe’s back.

When Tommy finally let you go, you didn’t have a moment to breathe before Georgia crushed you in another hug. You had forgotten how nice it was to be in the arms of the woman you would one day call your sister-in-law. Her reddish, curly hair tickled your cheek and her words warmed your core as she whispered in her gentle manner, “I’m so glad to see you again.”

Nora and Sabrine were waiting for their turn to greet you, Nora somewhat less patiently. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, sending her thick braid slapping against her puffy green vest. Sabrine was a stiller picture. She wore a soft smile, but her wide brown eyes narrowed, and she raised protective hand over her baby bump when she caught sight of the stranger unfurling himself from the passenger seat.

“Oh, guys,” you said. Your nerves were singing as you put the plan into place, no matter how much you practiced (which you were realizing wasn’t nearly enough). “I’d like everyone to meet my boyfriend, Bradley.”

Tommy cocked his head. “Boyfriend? I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

Nora took a step back, trying to fit you and Bradley together in a single picture. Sabrine’a gaze stayed hard.

From the porch, your Aunt Marnie called out, “Who’s the handsome gentleman in the driveway?”

You worried your fingers, shifted from foot to foot. It was impossible to force words through your teeth as your family looked at you for an answer.

Bradley saved the already sinking ship by rounding the car and slipping a hand around your waist, which made it as hard for you to stand as it was for you to talk. He stuck out his hand toward Tommy. “Nice to see you again.”

Tommy took his hand but looked at you with one eyebrow raised.

Though you were struggling to balance on two wobbly legs, Bradley’s hand on your waist was strangely comforting. He was the other half of this insane plan, after all. With his support, your words finally tumbled out of you.

“Surprise! I didn’t want to mention it until I knew I was sure but…” You rested a shaky hand on Bradley’s chest. “I’m sure.”

Your words thickened the mountain air as Tommy, Nora, and Sabrine tried to make sense of your surprise. Thank god for Georgia, who nearly tackled Bradley in a giant hug. Her decision swayed the others, who closed around him and welcomed him into the family by giving him too little personal space and too many questions to answer.

At least he handled it well enough that everyone’s attention was drawn to him, and you could slip away to unload the trunk.

Graciously, Bradley carried your luggage up to the cabin. Tommy, Georgia, and Nora swarmed him like summer bugs to a campfire. Even Sabrine softened and asked about your flight. You’d never brought anyone home, and you could safely assume they hadn’t expected you to bring a giant naval aviator to Grandma and Grandpa’s 60th wedding anniversary. You smiled, though the mountain air left you a bit breathless.

Auntie Marnie held the door open as you all piled into the cabin. The fire was flickering in the living room, chasing off the cold that trailed you inside. Hugs from everyone chased off the numbness of your skin. There was Grandma Sybil, who eyed Bradley with such suspicion that you were sure your ruse had been found out already. Grandpa Thomas, who tussled your hair and smelled just a little bit like cigarettes. Sabrine’s husband Matt gave you a ginger hug that couldn’t belie how new he was to the family. Owen and Addison gave you one big hug (they almost always move as a single unit).

Your parents saw Bradely (he was hard to miss), but they stayed focused on you.

“My baby.” Your mom’s voice coated you like a warm honey, though her words struck a chill through you. “How are you? Why didn’t you tell us about Bradley?”

“Umm…” Maybe it was more than just the thin mountain air leaving you breathless. “I just wanted to be sure before I told you all.”

It sounded more convincing outside, with the ancient pines to bear witness. In the living room crammed with people, your lie was somehow much less believable. Your mother’s eyes were cold as they searched yours, but they broke away when your dad enveloped you in a hug.

“Missed you, kiddo.” He kissed the crown of your head.

“Missed you too, Dad.”

But even if your surprise was on shaky ground thanks to Grandma Sybil and your mom, yours was not the only surprise. You were shocked — and grateful — to find that while Nora and Madison had summited K2, they had most recently embarked on a new kind of adventure.

His name was Henry, he had curly brown hair, and he was 3 years old. Grandpa Thomas had pulled out you and your cousins’ old toys, and Henry was playing contently on the bearskin rug with a Tickle Me Elmo and a smattering of Polly Pockets, some of the dresses bearing permanent teeth imprints.

In the current of people, you found yourself reaching for Bradley like he was a rock you could cling to in the storm. Like he was really your boyfriend. For his part, he grabbed your hand and didn’t let go, not when your dad clapped him on the shoulder and said “I trust you’re taking good care of her” and not when your mom locked eyes with him and only smiled.

You jumped in, despite the nervousness bubbling in your throat. “He’s taking good care of me, Mom and Dad. I’m very happy.”

“And I’m happy whenever she’s happy.” Bradley sealed the deal with a wink that left you studying the floor.

Auntie Elaine walked into the room like a force of nature, her cheeks permanently red, maybe from the freezing Alaskan winds. She clapped once, commanding everyone’s attention like you all were her sled dogs. “Come on, people, stop swarming the two. I’m sure they want to go upstairs and get settled.”

The knot of people around you loosened. You mouthed her a thank you, and she gave you a nod with the barest hint of a smile.

Bradley carried all your luggage up the staircase. Two flights up to your little attic room. It smelled like the vanilla cupcake body mist you wore every day as a teen — and it probably always would. The steeply slanted roof cut into the room, making it seem even smaller than it already was.

Bradley dropped the bags with several resounding thumps. Instead of his attention falling to the window which offered a glimpse of the lake, his eyes were on the full sized bed shoved into the corner of the room, the ceiling hanging low over it.

You rubbed the back of your neck. Your grandma had crocheted the pink, red, and blue afghan that dressed up the bed, somehow making it look smaller and more juvenile.

Fuck. It wasn’t like you could offer Bradley the couch if you were to be the perfect couple. “I forgot about this. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.” Bradley chuckled. “Well, do you think they bought it?”

“I think so?” The room was so small you could hear the rhythm of his breathing. “I’m so happy Nora and Madison surprised everyone with Henry, though. Hopefully that means the heat will be off us.”

“Everyone is very interested in our dating life. Well, Georgia and your Auntie Marnie, at least. I told them we’ve been dating for five months, sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You ran a hand over the solid oak dresser, your fingertips collecting powdered sugar dust. “They’ll probably want to know everything. It’s ok if there are some small discrepancies, as long as we look the part.”

His eyes finally ripped away from the bed. He took in the Raggedy Anne doll on your nightstand, the one Grandpa Thomas brought to the hospital when you were born. Your high school copy of Frankenstein laid open next to it, its worn pages exhausted by silly teenaged annotations. The bikini you wore last summer — bright red and studded with white polka dots — hung from the back of an old rocking chair. It clashed absurdly with the gleaming snow that frosted the pines outside. You fumbled to stuff it in the first dresser drawer you managed to fling open.

You were soaked into every part of this bedroom — from the shag rug to the yellow-wood walls. Bradley standing in it (his hair skimming the slanted ceiling) made you feel naked.

He tapped a plastic orange frame perched on your dresser. It was a picture taken from the lakeshore of you and Nat on a paddleboard almost a decade ago. Not five seconds after Tommy had snapped the photo, the two of you had plunged into the lake. But that was something you’d tell Bradley if you’d invited him into your room because you loved him, not because you were tricking your family into thinking you’d finally found someone.

So instead you said, “Are you ready to face my family again?”

“Am I ever?”

He held out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, you took it. Your fingers were a bit sweaty, but he gave you a reassuring squeeze as you two descended the stairs, the clamor of your family growing louder with each step. Your mind was dizzy trying to comprehend that Bradley Bradshaw was meeting your family. You’d daydreamed about this more often than you would ever admit. You just wished it was real.

You had to give him credit; he played the role of your secret-almost-but-not-quite-long-term boyfriend very well. He talked easily with your dad about the NBA playoffs. He withstood the questions Tommy lobbed at him about flying planes. He played dominos with you and your aunts. He helped Sabrine in the kitchen until he snuck too much cookie dough and she shooed him out. He made your heart flutter when he got on the floor and played trains with Henry.

“Choo choo!” He said as he pushed a bright red engine with a mismatched purple caboose down the wooden tracks on the living room floor.

Henry giggled and ran a yellow engine up Bradley’s leg.

You hid your smile with a sip of cocoa, but Bradley caught sight of you across the room and beckoned you to join. You sat next to him, a little farther than an actual girlfriend would. He closed the gap by circling an arm around you. You almost didn’t flush at his touch after spending nearly the whole day at his side. Almost.

Nora and Madison were watching the three of you from the love seat, Madison’s legs flopped over Nora’s, comfy silence stretched over them like a quilt. Your heart quickened at the sight of actual love. Bradley’s arm suddenly felt foreign against you.

Before your thoughts spiraled too far, Henry offered you a passenger car to play with. You set it on the tracks, but he shook his head.

“Like this.” He ran his train down Bradley’s leg.

“Hey,” Bradley said through a giant grin. “My legs aren’t train tracks!”

But your little cousin had given you clear instructions, and you followed them. A warmth rippled through you as the wheels of the toy train car gilded smoothly over Bradley’s sweatpants. He'd been comfortable touching you since the moment you’d met on a particularly rowdy night at the Hard Deck (because any friend of Nat’s was a friend of his). During that first bear hug, some part of him must have broken off and lodged in your heart, and you’d spent so long trying to pry it out or ignore it that it felt nice to actually indulge it. It wasn’t so much a splinter anymore as it was a shard of heat warming you from the inside. For the weekend, at least.

Someone stepped between you and the fire, blocking the heat. You looked up. Grandma Sybil was studying the two of you from behind her wire rimmed glasses.

“Dear,” her voice was clear like someone fifty years younger than herself, “why don’t you and Bradley come sit on the couch with me? I’d love the company.”

You tensed. You couldn’t remember if you warned Bradley enough about Grandma Sybil. You’d seen her question so many significant others, but that had never concerned you. Now it was Bradley’s turn, and he wasn’t even your significant other. But your grandma had already turned and was walking to her recliner, expecting you both to follow, so you let Bradley help you to your feet.

The two of you dropped awkwardly onto the couch. There was enough room between the two of you that you might have looked like strangers if not for the hand holding. With the fire and the oven on, it was really hot. And Grandma Sybil looked mightily unimpressed with the couple before her.

You scooted closer to Bradley, and he nearly pulled you into his lap. He gave you a look like Am I doing this right? The knots in your stomach knotted into more knots, but your grandmother held your full attention. She was the matriarch, and her judgment in your favor was crucial to keep up the ruse.

“Tell me,” she sat down on her recliner with a bit of effort, “Bradford –”

“Bradley,” you interjected on his behalf.

She waved you off. “What do you like about our granddaughter so much?”

You felt his breath catch a little. You clutched his hand in a death grip.

“She’s kind.” Bradley’s voice was steady. “She loves her family. I know she’ll always be there for me if I’m there for her. And when I first saw her, she took my breath away.”

Your heart swelled in spite of yourself, but Grandma Sybil seemed unconvinced, so you pipped in. “He’s a sweetheart, Grandma. He flies planes for the navy.”

She readjusted her glasses but didn’t say anything.

“He’s Nat’s friend.” You tried again.

“Oh, Natasha.” Grandma Sybil finally smiled. “What a great girl. How is she?”

“She’s doing good.” It was easier to speak now. “She wishes she could be here, but she had work. She’s very in demand.”

Grandma Sybil looked pointedly at Bradley. “And how do you know Natasha?”

“Grandma, I just told you; he flies planes for the navy.”

“It’s ok.” Bradley rested his free hand on your arm. He was getting good at this. “I work with Nat a lot. She’s the perfect person to have with me in the sky.”

Grandma Sybil adjusted her glasses as if she was seeing Bradley in a new light. “Well, if Nat thinks you’re a good fit for our granddaughter –”

“She does,” you said.

“– then welcome to the family.”

She struggled out of the recliner and took Bradley’s face between her hands. She gave him a kiss on each cheek, then did the same for you.

“I knew you’d like him,” you told her. “He’s a catch, huh?”

She ignored you and stared into his eyes. “You be good to her, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bradley channeled his inner military man and straightened like a flagpole.

Even if he didn’t realize, he was being good to you. Only an insane person, or a really good friend, would try to help someone trick their family this way. You felt bad he had go through all the pains of meeting his girlfriend’s family without the girlfriend, but he smiled down at you with his big brown eyes, still holding your hand, and you felt as if – just maybe – there was some piece of you lodged in his heart.

Before you could properly chase that thought out of your head, Henry started crying. Nora and Madison rushed from their spot on the love seat to soothe him. Their attempts weren’t really working, and his cries mixed with the clinking of dominoes and the clattering of pots and pains threatened to raise a headache in you.

Your eyes fell to the hot tub on the porch.

“Hey Bradley?” You asked under the current of noise.

“Yes?” Did you imagine the twitch of his upper lip? Had your grandmother actually rattled him?

It was ok, though, because you had the perfect relaxing antidote to his troubles.

“Join me in the hot tub?”

You hadn’t known if Bradley would bring his swimsuit that he practically lived in during San Diego summers, but he confessed he had because he heard Lake more than Tahoe. It wasn’t like it was freezing in San Diego, he argued.

You suppressed your laugh up in your stuffy attic room as he stood with the Hawiian print swim trunks in hand.

“What?” He said. “I’m using them, aren’t I?”

“I guess. In a 102 degree hot tub, though, not the lake.” You were pulling your bikini out of the drawer you’d crammed it in earlier.

You both stood, pink shag rug between you, holding onto your swimsuits and staring at each other.

“What are we waiting for?” Bradley grinned. “We’ve been dating for five months.”

You stared at him.

“I’m teasing.” That’s what he said, but in the same breath he pulled his hoodie and shirt off with one swift motion.

Jesus Christ, you forgot how good he looked without a shirt. Your lungs absolutely refused to fill with enough oxygen.

“Hey.” His expression softened toward you, the playfulness traded for something more reassuring. “I won’t look if you promise not to look.”

“Promise.” The word hung limp in the air as you both turned your backs and shimmied into your swimsuits. You stared out your tiny window as you pulled on the bikini bottoms, watching the snow glare in the sunlight and trying to keep your mind from the fact that you and Bradley were basically naked in your old bedroom.

“You ready?” He asked.

You were fumbling with the tie of your bikini top. “Just a sec.”

The seconds passed like drops of snow melt. You counted every one. As more and more slipped by, the clumsier your fingers became.

“Bradley, are you looking?”

“No, ma’am.”

You sucked in a deep breath, “I can’t get this top tied. Can you help?”

“’Course.” He passed over your rug and took the strings from your hands. His fingers were warm as they grazed your back. “Is this too tight?”

“No, that’s perfect.” You were lightheaded with his body so close to yours, his breath tickling the bare skin of your shoulders, his beachy scent cutting through the lingering smell of your teenage body spray. With a shock, you remembered your manners. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem.” He patted your shoulder. “Now, I think there’s a hot tub somewhere around here, and it’s got our name on it.”

The freezing air stabbed your bare skin as you and Bradley ran out the front door and across the porch to the hot tub. You both practically dove into it, letting the warm water bring feeling back to your skin.

“Can they see us?” Bradley nodded towards the cabin windows from the opposite side of the tub.

“Most definitely.” If you stole a glance, you could see at least five of your family members watching you two from in front of the fireplace. “Are we selling it?”

He chuckled. “Not at all. We look like strangers. Could you get any farther from me?”

“Sorry. We’ve only been together every minute since 6:15 this morning.”

His expression flickered, but before you could figure out with what, it flattened into a smile again. “Well, do you want to convince your family or not?”

“I do.”

He opened his arms. “Then get over here.”

You swam over to his waiting arms and settled practically in his lap.

“What are we doing?” You asked, laying your head against his chest, careful to not lean too much of your weight onto him. Careful not to let your heart beat out of your chest.

“I don’t know about you,” he said, “but I’m having a great time in Tahoe.”

“Sorry about my grandmother.” You drifted your hand along the surface of the water.

“She just wants to know you’re ok. And I was more than happy to reassure her.”

You opened your mouth – to say you weren’t ok, look at what you were doing – but heavy steps along the deck stopped you. You turned to see Tommy and Georgia in swimsuits made of the same matching green gingham fabric.

“Mind if we join?” Your brother asked, but he was already climbing over the side of the tub.

“Sure,” you answered, though you knew he wasn’t actually asking for permission.

Georgia slipped in after Tommy. She smiled with a hint of apology in her green eyes. “Thanks.”

For a moment, no one said anything. Tommy and Georgia sat across from you, fitting against one another like puzzle pieces. He draped an easy arm over her shoulder, and she entwined her fingers with his without thinking. No asking for permission. No awkwardness here. You suddenly felt very aware of Bradley’s hard body against yours.

Slowly, conversation eased around you all. Tommy and Georgia talked about school – over on the east coast – where he was studying accounting and she was studying biochemistry. Bradley talked about working as a pilot, deployments on aircraft carriers, and the general tomfoolery he and the Daggers got up to. Tommy said Sabrine was upset that her child wouldn’t be the first grandchild after Henry. Georgia said your grandparents were upset because Owen and Addison were leaving tonight. Something about having to miss the anniversary dinner because it’s her mom’s birthday, and they’re celebrating in the Bahamas.

You spoke a little, but mostly you basked in the soft silence the conversation afforded you, counted icicles hanging from the eaves, and tried not to think so hard about relaxing into Bradley’s body. If Tommy and Georgia couldn’t be fooled, it was hopeless.

“So…” Tommy gestured with his and Georgia’s hand at the two of you. “Who said I love you first?”

“What do you mean?” Your voice came out cold and sharp like the icicles above without you meaning to.

Bradley put a reassuring hand on your thigh. You hadn’t meant to get defense, and your brother raised his eyebrows at you.

Georgia kicked a foot out of the water, showing off her pink toenails. “They say you can tell a lot about a couple based on who said I love you first and when.”

“Who says that?” Your voice was softer.

“We do.” She and Tommy said in sync.

“Well,” Bradley started before you could say anything and make it worse. “I did. We were at our usual bar. I was a little drunk, and she just looked so stunning I couldn’t help myself, so –”

“It was charming,” you said. “He played our song on the piano. It was so romantic.”

He nodded. “A little embarrassing too. All our friends were there.”

“It was sweet, though.” You kicked him lightly under the jets. You were supposed to be the perfect couple, why was he trying to play up his embarrassment of an event that never actually happened?

“Charmingly, embarrassingly sweet.” He settled on the story and you nodded along.

Georgia asked, “What’s your song?”

“Oh, umm, what’s it called, sweetie? It’s…” You looked at Bradley, suddenly blanking on every song title ever.

Bradley looked up, the gears in his brain so obviously turning you didn’t think Georgia or even Tommy would buy your relationship. Finally, he snapped his fingers. “It’s called Great Balls of Fire.”

Ok, so he had blanked on every song title as well if the only one he could pull out of his ass was the one he played every weekend night at the Hard Deck. At least you were equally hopeless at thinking on the fly.

Tommy and Georgia nodded slowly. When it was clear neither of you had anything else to add, Georgia asked, “How long were you dating?”

“Three months,” you said at the same time Bradley said, “One month.”

Confusion spread across their faces like frost over a window.

“Well, it’s kind of funny…” You trailed off when you couldn’t think of a kind of funny explanation.

“We’d known each other for three months,” Bradley picked up your slack. “But had only been official for one. But we’ve been in love from the moment we laid eyes on each other, so the math gets complicated.”

He squeezed your thigh, and the condensation of your breaths mingled in the late afternoon sun. Panic prickled your skin. If only he’d known how true his words rang, if only for you.

Luckily, Tommy and Georgia began talking about how they met in high school algebra class, and the conversation steered safely away from the topic of your relationship.

When the sun set, everyone jumped out of the hot tub and raced back into the warmth of the cabin. You and Bradley took turns warming up in the shower and had your fill of the pizza Grandpa Thomas ordered.

Owen and Addison left the cabin with giant suitcases and sheepish smiles. Grandma Sybil’s anger burned brightly as they walked out the door. She launched into a diatribe about ungrateful grandkids. Funnily enough, her audience was made of her grandkids who had cared enough to stay. You swapped we'll-talk-about-this-later glances with your cousins. After a few awkward minutes, Grandpa Thomas ushered her to bed.

Everyone was quick to say their goodnights after that. You and Bradley headed up to your room. Only to be greeted by the problem of your full-sized bed.

“I could sleep on the floor,” you offered, unable to bear his silence.

He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I can do that.”

You bit your lip. You didn’t want to sleep on the floor, but Bradley had already done so much for you. He withstood Grandma Sybil, lied in front of your whole family, and the fact that he was even in Tahoe to begin with was still blowing your mind. You could take the floor for him.

“Seriously, get comfy in bed.” You pulled down the afghan and the comforter and fluffed the pillow a little. “I’ll grab some extra blankets.”

You slipped out the door before he could protest. You snuck down to the second floor where the linen closet was, just outside your parents’ room. You twisted the knob carefully so as not to alert them, but the closet door whined open anyway. You gathered whatever sheets and blankets were on top and shut it quickly but quietly.

Just when you thought you were in the clear, your mother opened her bedroom door. “Honey, it’s late. What do you need?”

You both glanced down at the abundance of quilts and sheets bundled in your arms. You had to think of an explanation, quick.

“Well, Bradley gets very cold at night. And it’s drafty up there.”

Your mom crossed her arms over her chest. “You used to complain all the time about how stuffy it was in your room.”

“That’s true.” You laughed and couldn’t meet her eyes. “I guess I run colder now than I used to.”

She looked at you over the frames of her reading glasses.

“Well, goodnight, Mom.” You turned to run back up the stairs.

“Honey?”

You swore silently but turned around.

“Is everything ok?” She asked. “You’ve been acting a little strange ever since you got here.”

“Oh, nothing’s the matter. I’m fine. I’m fine. Just, work’s been crazy, and with Bradley meeting the family, it’s been really stressful.”

“Ok.” Her face, which you’d known your whole life, was unreadable. “Let me know if I can do anything for you. I love you.”

“Love you too. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

When you were little, Sabrine would tease you by telling you the cabin was haunted. With the way you raced back to your room, it might have well been.

Bradley – damn him – was lying on your rug by the time you got back.

“I told you to take the bed.” You dumped the blankets onto the ground.

“I know.” He sat up and started grabbing the discarded blankets. “But I’m a gentleman. Take the bed.”

You were beyond tired. It had been a long day, and Bradley was already cocooning himself in blankets on the floor. An argument now would just draw out the inevitable.

You sighed. “I’m giving you the bed tomorrow night.”

“Whatever helps you sleep better,” he mumbled.

You turned off the lamp. It was as stuffy as it always was in your room, but you fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Sometime in the night, you woke to a shadow looming over you in the moonlight. You yawned and rubbed your eyes, thinking you were seeing things, but the shadow only solidified as your vision adapted to the low light. It was a tall, Bradley-looking shadow.

“Move over.” His voice was gruff with sleep.

You scooted toward the opposite edge of the bed, too tired to complain or ask questions. Your ancient bedframe squeaked as you shifted, practically screamed when Bradley sank onto your mattress.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbled as a way of an explanation, but you were too sleepy to need one.

Your bed kept squeaking and groaning as the two tried to settle in without bothering the other. There was a small tug-of-war with the blankets. You lost because really, there was no way to win against Bradley in feats of strength.

You smiled to yourself in the darkness. Bradley Bradshaw was in your bed. He wasn’t touching you, and he stole most of your blankets, but he was in your bed.

His snoring filled the room as you drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Taglist:

@djs8891 @avengersfan25 @cornishkat @julielightwood @makingpeoplelaughsince1995 @abitdemented @darksparklesficrecs @igotmajordaddyissues @cupofchamomileeee @imaginationlover101 @simpfictionalcharacters @pizzapie349 @imaginecrushes @trashlandqueen @hookslove1592 @diorrfairy @allepaula @deakyjoe @the-chaotic-cow

#top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster x reader #top gun fanfiction #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw x female reader

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redwlf843 · 3 days

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Cookies, comics, and kids oh my. 1

Abby Anderson x fem reader

Summary: Abby is Lev’s guardian and he wants to do something nice for her birthday. He decides to ask one of their neighbors for help.

Warnings: fluff, Abby isn’t actually in this one yet but she’s mentioned, lev’s just a lil guy.

You haven’t lived in your house for long, only a year, but you’ve come to love your house and the street it was on. Though you didn’t know many of the neighbors, sure you’ve seen them but you’ve never really gone out of your way to talk to them and get to know them. The only ones you know are Ellie and Dina and their adorable toddler JJ. They lived across from you and you would regularly go over for dinner or they would come to your house for dinner. Though you didn’t know much of the other neighbors they’ve never given you any problems so that makes them good in your book. The only person you could not bring yourself to talk to was the woman in the house 3 down from yours across the road.

You’ve seen her come and go with her son or maybe he was her brother you couldn’t tell. The issue was not that she was rude or anything no she always smile and waved anytime you jogged or drove by and she was outside. The issue was she was so incredibly breathtakingly beautiful you couldn’t even fathom talking to her without becoming a bumbling fool so you’ll just enjoy her from afar.

…

Lev knew he wanted to do something nice for Abby but he didn’t know what. It was her birthday tomorrow and he had no gift for her, and that made him feel bad. Abby always does as much as she can for his birthday and he wants to repay the favor. Besides she deserves something nice she works so hard. He knew he was going to make her a card like he does every year but he didn’t have enough to buy her a present. So he thought and thought trying to come up with the perfect present. When he was struck with the perfect idea, cookies. Abby loved cookies. The only issue was he wasn’t allowed to use the oven by himself when Abby was home, and Ellie and Dina were taking care of JJ who got a bug from daycare. (He knows because before Abby rushed to work he heard her on the phone with a panicked Ellie.)

He looked out the window trying to think of who he could go to when he saw your car pull into your driveway. Bingo he’d ask you for help. You seemed nice enough and Ellie and Dina were friends with you so surely you’d be nice to him. He didn’t know your name but abby would call you pretty girl when her and Ellie talked about you.

Lev made up his mind and but his shoes on before leaving the house making sure he locked the door.

He walked across the street and to your house.

…

You had just gotten home from shopping and but the few odds and ends you needed away. You had just sat down when there were three tentative knocks on your front door.

You get up from the couch and answer the door, in front of you is the same kid you always see with Abby. You’re confused and a bit concerned as to why he was here, not that you minded but you couldn’t help but fear something was wrong. He looked fine so you assumed everything was ok.

“Hello” you greeted him

“Hi I’m Lev.” He introduces himself

“Hello Lev I’m [Y/n], what brings you here?” You ask him

“So tomorrow is Abbys birthday, she’s my guardian. And she super nice and always does stuff for my birthday and I want to do something nice for her, and she really likes cookies, but I can’t use the oven when she’s not home. Also I don’t know how to make cookies. Can you help me?” He rambles out and gives you puppy eyes

You couldn’t say no, this kid was adorable and he couldn’t have been more than 10, and he just wanted to do something nice for Abby so of course you couldn’t say no.

You open the door for him to come in

“Definitely.” You smile at him

He smiles brightly as he walks into your house.

You quickly pull up a recipe and you and Lev get the ingredients you need and measure everything out while talking about what ever comes to mind.

As you helped him mix the batter you both ended up on the topic of superhero’s

“My favorite is Superman, but Abby really like Batman.” He says carefully adding the chocolate chips

“They’re both cool but the flash is the best” you tell him matter of factly

He looks at you like you had sprouted another head when you said that

“Nuhuh all he does is run fast.” He says and you gasp

“What no, no, my pint sized my friend you are in need of a lesson. After we get these into the oven I will show you my Flash comics.” You tell him as you grease the baking sheet

He agreed as he mixed in the chocolate chips.

You hand him a greased ice cream scoop and instruct him to put a scoop of cookie dough half an inch apart on the baking sheet.

You start cleaning some of the dirty dish as he puts the dough on the baking sheet.

“Thank you again Ms. [y/n]” you hear Lev say from behind you

“Please just call me [y/n], I’m happy to help.” You tell him

You both work in silence for a minute, once he gets the cookie dough on the baking sheet you put it in the oven and set a timer.

You both wash your hands and you look at him

“Ready to be schooled about the best superhero in the world?” You ask him

“Yeah but I thought you were going to tell me about the Flash not Superman?” He asks and you both break out into a fit of laughter.

He follows you to the living room and you go to your bookshelf as he sits on the couch. You pull out a couple Flash comics and hand them to him.

You explain some of the backstories as he reads the comics.

He reads a couple before he speaks up

“Okay so maybe he does do more than just go fast.” He says taking back what he said earlier

“But Superman is still better”

“Y’know what I’ll take it, not everyone is a fan.” You tell him

What ever he was about to say was cut off when he looked over at your tv and saw your extensive collection of video games

“Woah you got a lot of games” he says in awe admiring them from the couch

“You like games?” You ask him

He nods looking from the games to you

“You can go look at them if you want” you tell him nodding your head towards the games.

He gets off the couch and kneels in front of the tv stand looking at the games

“Hey?” He asks hesitantly

“What’s up” you ask not looking up from the comic in your hand

“Could we maybe play Mario cart?” He asks

“Totally” you tell him smiling and put the comic down.

You get up and grab to controls from the stand and turn on your switch that was already connected to the tv.

You hand Lev a controller and you both sit on the couch.

You picked Yoshi while Lev picked Mario

“Yoshi really?” Lev asked with a laugh

“What I like Yoshi” you tell him

He laughs and the game starts.

You win the first race.

“Yoshi’s not so bad now huh?” You ask

“I’m just getting warmed up” he tells you and you laugh

You both play until the timer goes off.

You tell Lev to stay put as you go and check the cookies. You take them out of the oven to cool.

On your way back to the living room you grab two juice boxes and a carton of goldfish, you place the drinks and food on the coffee table and sit back on the couch.

“So the cookies are done now they’re just cooling.” You tell him as you poke your straw into your juice box and Lev does the same with his.

You both drink juice, eat goldfish, and play Mario cart until Lev looks at the clock

“Oh man Abby will be home soon.” Lev says

“Alrighty wanna get those cookies packed up?” You ask him and he nods.

You both go to the kitchen and you grab a white plastic serving plate from the cupboard. You place the cookies on the plate before covering it in plastic wrap.

(Of course you let Lev snag one before you cover them.)

“Good?” You ask him and he nods his head quickly

“Best I’ve ever had” he tells you honestly

“Abby will love these” he tells you

“Good I hope she will, tell her happy birthday for me.” You tell him as you walk him to the door

“Oh wait.” You exclaim before you grab something off the coffee table

You held two comic in your hands

“This” you hold up a Superman comic “is for you” you tell him

His eyes widen

“Really!?” He asks and you nod placing it on top of the covered plate of cookies

“And this one” you hold up a Batman comic “is for Abby” you place it on top of the superman comic.

Lev looks unsure of something for a moment before he seems to make up his mind, he sets the comics and plate of cookies on the arm of the couch before he hugs you tightly.

“Thank you” he tells you and you hug him back

“Of course, come over anytime you want okay?” You tell him and he nods picking the cookies and comics up.

You open the door for him and he walks out, he’s about half way down your drive way before he turns to you with a big smile

“Bye [y/n]”

“Bye Lev” you reply with an equally big smile

You watch him leave to make sure he gets to his house okay and when he does you close your door. That day you made a new little buddy.

…

It was the next morning when you opened your door to grab your mail when something on your welcome mat caught your eye.

On your welcome mat was the plastic plate you gave Lev yesterday with a note taped to it. You pick up the plate and read the note

Thank you for the cookies and the comic

The cookies were amazing, definitely made my birthday amazing

You’ve made quite the impression on lev

Would definitely love to meet up some time here’s my number

(XXX)XXX-XXXX

-Abby ♥️

You could feel your face heating up, you had her number holy shit you had her number and she wanted to meet up. You pump your fists into the air in victory. You had her number, oh god what do you even say? Do you text her now? Do you wait? You had no idea, but what you did know was that you were definitely going to have to bake more cookies in the future.

#abby anderson #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson x female reader #abby tlou #lev tlou #abby and lev

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tj-crochets · 16 days

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I'm not iron deficient anymore!!! :D I just got the blood test results back and for once I had a fixable problem and it is fixed*!!!! *well okay my total iron saturation % is still a little low but the rest of my numbers are in the normal range! Even ferritin!! My ferritin levels have almost quadrupled and are now in the normal range!!! :D

#the person behind the yarn #medical mention #blood mention #my ferritin levels were 3 and now they are 11 :D #I am not at stop taking supplements stage but I think I won't need an iron infusion anymore!#I was really not looking forward to finding out if I was allergic to that #like. very grateful for the opportunity to get an iron infusion if I need one #but given all the other stuff I'm allergic to...I was concerned lol #also this doc was the first doctor to bring up testing me for the Significantly Worse version of a thing I have #like. I knew the worse version existed but no doctor had ever mentioned it to me #I do not have the Significantly Worse version. It's not the kind of thing you have for a decade.#and once I told her when my symptoms started she stopped talking about doing the test #but it was nice that she knew enough about it to bring it up and that she was willing to. you know?

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dabidagoose · 2 years

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Not really sure if i should be as bothered as i am about how phylactery is used in DND, since it also refers to tefillin. I saw some people on other parts of the internet discussing how phylactery is more of a translation of tefillin, and sometimes the word has just been used to mean amulet or something to do with protection in Greek, but I'd be curious to know if anyone on here had any thoughts on the matter.

#it's been on the mind for me ever since my character accidentally stole a lich's phylactery #i know some ppl have said d&d has some antisemitic stuff (idk if from actual antisemitism or just general antisemitic fantasy culture #seeping into the game) which especially makes me wonder about the representation of phylacteries and lichs #i generally haven't thought that it's a big enough deal to bring up to my dm but now that we're entering a 'kill the evil lich and try not #to get your character killed by him for stealing his phylactery' arc i wonder if that might change #would just like to talk to other ppl about the subject cause i haven't really made up my mind #especially torn cause I've never heard phylactery used in a synagogue or by any fellow Jews to mean tefillin i think i barely knew it meant #tefillin before this campaign #i knew enough to look it up when i first heard it but just cause I recognized the word didn't even know it was related to Judaism #this is one of those posts that i pray to God stays within my regular circle of mutuals and followers #personal #actually maybe i should talk to the other jew in my party to see if it bothers her. might be weird cause we're not very close but maybe #i mean i feel like she's more Jewish than me so it might be nice to hear her thoughts #hmm don't try looking this up on Tumblr you'll only find weird lore about someone's post that went viral #the more you know 🌈

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screampied · 2 months

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Full Nelson with big bf Sukuna?🥺 One where gf is all giddy and coy about asking him & he’s so big he can pull your hair far back enough to give you a kiss from arching you it’s rough but she’s like ‘I love you I love you ‘Kuna you’re the best boyfriend I love you<3’

❤︎ ໋𓈒 doing the full nelson position with big bf sukuna

warnings. fem! reader, full nelson, praise, dirty talk, unprotected, size diff / manhandling, mdni.

big bf! sukuna who adores comparing how small you are to him - a simple gaze looking down at you and it only fuels his ego even more.

you were so cute, so it’s much to his surprise when you suggest to him a new position you wanted to try.

“heh. silly little girl,” he scoffs, you’re propped up all comfortable on his lap whilst trying to describe the position with hand visuals for him. sukuna leans back, bulky crossed arms and a near pout on his lips as he listened to you. “full…nelson? that means i’ll have to hold you up. can you even handle that? be honest.”

“i can or i wouldn’t be asking,” you pout, leaning in to kiss underneath his chin. sukuna remains still—yet its like he was staring right into your soul. he brings a hand towards your hip before a small smile spreads against his lips at your cheeky confidence. “pretty please?”

“…fine,” sukuna grumbles, and you let off an abrupt gasp once he makes you face the other way—you feel his arms wrap around you. he leans further back before he grabs onto your thighs, an attempt to align himself. “hold on to me. ‘m gonna have fun stretchin’ you like this, princess.”

“don’t drop me, ‘kuna,” you moaned, feeling him grip tightly underneath your thighs. a thumb of his strokes against your skin before his leaky tip prods against your aroused entrance.

you were already so soaked . . . probably due to the fact he was eating you out hours on end just a few minutes ago.

sukuna grouses. “woman relax, i got you,” and you’d only then realize how lewd this particular position was. as your back was pressed against his chest, the curse nearly has your legs in a tight lock. he was so strong. handling you like this, making you bend just a bit. once he starts to bury himself into you, you bite down on your lip. “mhm. jus’ like that, lay back on me ‘n let me do all the work.”

he’s barely in and you already feel full, his tip was nice and fat — plump, a few droplets of his pre-cum coated near your entrance as he’s sinking into your pussy.

his girth made an appearance, easily stretching you out further.

“f-fuckkk,” you’d whine, both hands idly stiff beside you. it felt so good. too good. sukuna was trying to go slow, he knew he’d probably break you if he didn’t. the size difference, it never failed to make him amused.

sukuna kisses his teeth, feeling you grip all around him. his head briefly goes back, and he squeezes your thigh. “gonna feel me reach everywhere, princess. you want that?”

“y-yes,” you’d mewl out, inch after inch you started to feel more stuffed with his cock. he was purely thick. such length to him, it almost had you drooling. tongue salivating, lips parting and all. you were panting, starting to rub against his arm as your head went back. “more ‘kuna. don’t s-stop. wanna feel you.”

“aw. ya wanna feel me?” he repeats, mocking your sweet tone. it was quite embarrassing, yet you were too full of dick to comprehend his words. it hasn’t even been that long and you just knew you weren’t gonna last. sukuna was gonna snatch yet another orgasm out of you within a blink of an eye.

and you couldn’t wait.

sukuna lifts you up with burly arms, low grunts flying past his lips. once he’s fully in—deeply buried into your cunt, he makes you start to bounce on him. a cute abashed gasp comes from you, and he’s slow and steady at first. he kept his word, securely keeping your body in place.

“so cute like this,” he murmurs in a husky tone. you moan, feeling sukuna playfully tug back on your hair. even with stuffing inches into you, he still found the time of day to tease you. you always let him. you never necessarily minded.

“always—always know how to take me. good fuckin’ messy girl,” and he was so close up to your ear. muttering the filthiest things to make you even more sopping wet for him. “dunno why ya didn’t suggest this position to me earlier.”

“thought you were gonna tease me,” you gasp once he drags a hand down between your legs. you were soaking. it was quite a sight, he starts to maneuver circles against your clit with one hand before giving it a brief spank. “s-sukunaaa.”

“maybe,” he groans, and he’s just got you stupid.

he’s got you stupidly jerking back and forth against him with your mouth all open. straight dumbfounded. the perfect word to describe you.

you briefly crane your neck to glance back at him and he’s giving you a sly grin. “my oh my, such a sloppy girl i got myself here. can barely hold herself up so i gotta do it for her, hm . . ?”

your head went back and back against him whilst you’re being stretched to the very limit. it was an entire mess. the way your pussy sang lewdly in harmony. squelches, pretty pitched squelches that always drive sukuna crazy. each squelch rang throughout your ears.

you continued to repeat his name, barely able to murmur out a coherent word. oh, it was adorable. by this point, you were just straight up babbling.

sukuna’s cock hit you deep, extremely.

pumping you full of his entire length . . every inch again and again and again. those eyes of yours, practically cross crossed and dilated.

as he held your thighs up, your mouth was just simply agape, maw dropped at how good he’s drilling into your cunt.

“o-oh my goddd,” you’d whimper, and he gets closer and closer to thrashing against your sweet g-spot. “kunaaa, i- i love you,” you hiccup. and he chuckles, it was so random. your breathing became more and more erratic before you mewl out cute cacophonies of, “i- i love you, love you ‘s much. make me feel so good, ‘k-kuna.”

“praise me more, girl.” he hums, a raspy chuckle leaving the back of his throat. he was obviously joking but he did enjoy the sound of your voice.

especially at moments like this, moments where it’d be a tad pitch higher, bringing you closer and closer towards your incoming release. sukuna grabs you by the neck with a free hand, gently turning you to pull you into a kiss.

you moan, craning your head yet again to make a cute attempt at kissing back. “needy baby,” he utters, making you depart before kissing you again, then one more time, and another. “i love you too, brat.”

his hefty base hits against you profusely, time and time again. you’re dizzy, head spinning, heart racing. a plethora of emotions. yet, your breathing starts to pick up over time. he’s ramming his thick cock into you before you start moaning. “getting close ‘kuna, f-fuck ‘s gooddd.”

grunting, he huffs out a, “me too,” and his voice was dangerously low. you were drenched, heaving against his chest. he’s lifting you up and down his cock — by now, you’re facing the other way and sukuna playfully wraps an arm around your neck. you’re in a safe head lock, and he chuckles lowly against your ear. “fuckin’ make a mess on me. give it to me ‘n don’t make me beg, princess.”

you whine, feeling him reach down to spank your pussy again.

the loud squelches, so moist…

the entire noise reverberated across the entire room, sounds of your pussy hitting back against him in sync. he loved more than anything to play between your legs.

pressure continues to build up and up and up, arising perfectly. from sukuna holding up your legs, you clench and unclench around him. you don’t even realize how much you’re starting to drool — it was a sight. he scoffs, bringing a hand to cup your chin. “messy girl. droolin’ all for some cursed cock. ya like this position don’t you?”

you nod, an eager cute nod and he chuckles. sukuna feels himself approaching close too. really close. he groans, feeling you take him in with such ease. your cunt had him whipped, so warm and the perfect fit. his thrusts started to become sloppy and he bites near the inner part of your neck. you whine, feeling the softness of his canines collide against your sweet skin.

a bundle of nerves ran its course all over your body, you felt shivers run past you before you whine. “g-gonna cum. ‘kuna ‘m gonna—.”

sukuna ends up cumming at the same time as you, it was a lot. perhaps a lot was an understatement though.

whenever he came, it was so much. you weren’t even sure if it would stay inside of you. majority of the time, it didn’t. thick velvety ropes of his cum would run down your thighs and he’s pout whenever he sees it coming to waste.

he’s huffing and puffing, filling up your pussy and he slows his rhythm down—you catch your breath, feeling absolutely stretched to the max before he intakes a sharp breath, exhaling afterwards. you just sat there for a while, leaned back against the curse with a dumb smile on your face.

“…you love me?” you utter, feeling him loosen his grip on your body.

“shut up.”

#★vegasbaby.#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader smut #anime smut #female reader

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backwzzds · 5 months

Text

ೃ⁀➷ love me, connie springer (nsfw)

thinking about babydaddy!connie fucking you nice and slow after finding out you got stood up by your date. having little constentina (his idea, but tina for short) for the weekend, your precious angel just couldn’t keep her mouth shut to her daddy when you’d told her you were going on a small ‘dinner’

“she said dinner but that really means date, daddy.”

connie isn’t surprised. no one knew how to handle you beside him. i mean, he’s had your ass in place successfully for nearly ten years; only he was man enough to handle you, your mind, and most of all your body.

you loved connie like no other, you wanted no one else to be the father of your children. but you knew the streets would eventually take him away from you, and you just didn’t wanna stick around for that. not when you had a five year old girl depending on the both of you. connie looked for other ways to make bread without selling or doing anything…illegal but it was hard to match the stacks he was bringing home every weekend.

your separation was a one sided agreement anyways it seems. to you? you two were broken up. to connie delulu ass? you were his wife and you’re ‘smoking dick if you think ion belong to you and you’on belong to me.’

you didn’t even have any words for the absence of your so called ‘date.’. after an hour of waiting, you figured you’d call in to check on tina. ringing connie, your babyfather answered on the first ring, of course with a wood in his mouth and multiple lights on his face, signaling he was watching tv.

“hey,” your voice is solemn and low. you really were tired and ashamed to say anything more.

“hey mama, you okay?” connie’s hazel brown eyes quickly flick over to yours through the screen.

you shrug though he can’t see it. “i’m okay.” you admit. “just callin’ to check on my baby.” the frame was only on your face, but from the small shake of your hand, connie had managed to get a glimpse of a pretty black dress you’d sported, breasts looking three times as big as it usually did because of your sitting position. he could tell you dressed up for the night.

“yeah? she good, just upstairs sleepin’ right now. how was your date, pretty?” you hear connie turn down the tv in the background and give you his full intention.

you furrow your brows. “what? boy, how’d you know about it?”

your baby father blows out a huff of smoke and chuckles, flashing his gold canines. he wasn’t gon snitch on his lil informant princess. “i got my ways. tell me bout it baby.”

with a roll of your eyes, you let out a tired sigh and felt your shoulders sag. “wouldn’t know. the nigga never showed.”

connie furrows his own thick eyebrows. “what you mean? he told you he couldn’t come?” he asked. from the shake of your head, you see his face soften on the screen. “come over n’ smoke with me. lemme make you feel better.”

you kiss your teeth and throw your head back, already knowing where the conversation was headed. embarrassment flooded your expression. “you eating my pussy is not gonna make me feel better, constance.”

connie kissed his teeth and waved you off dismissively. “you’on know that.”

a blush can’t help but creep its way onto your brown cheeks. “i’m supposed to be staying away from you, ya know.”

connie gives you a knowing grin, shamelessly flexing the two deep dimples in his cheeks that constentina inherrited from him. “yeah? how’s that going for you, mama?”

“obviously not good because i’m actually considering your offer of being a booty call tonight?” you laugh.

“come onnn mama, tina’s sleep, i got a wood rolled for you and i want you here.” your ex compromised with a kiss of his teeth. “lemme rub ya feet and all on ya butt i promise you’ll feel better.

“i’m tired and don’t feel like driving, con,” you whine in the same tone. you knew if he didn’t have your daughter he’d already be at your door, but you refused to risk waking her up in a car ride over here.

connie rolls his eyes and puts you on pause for the moment. a minute later he comes back on screen and takes a pull of his backwood. “your uber on the way baby.”

“ooh daddy,” you cried, trying your hardest to breathe straight. “you know i cum fast like this, oh shit,” connie had your legs spread wide open, forcing your huge tits up against the bottom of your face as he pumped in and out of you.

“you like that mama, like when i fuck you nice and slow? all romantic n’ shit?” connie teased. tears streamed down your face and he wasted no time in kissing them from your pretty face.

you’re too far in euphoria to even fully comprehend exactly what he’s saying. “yes, i love when you stroke this pussy so deep daddy.”

connie holds your breasts up damn near to your face and takes his time sucking on each of your nipples, making sure to stretch and pull it all the way back as far as it could go, grinning at the sound of it snapping back toward you. “you’on need no one else to love you like this but me, you heard?”

you can’t help but shake your head, the small responsible part of you left that hadn’t been fucked out by connie yet (though he was close) was slowly bringing you to reality. “no,” you respond.

“nah, nah, dead that shit or imma stop,” your ex threatened, straightening his back out so he stood tall, yet still very deep inside your gummy walls. you can’t help but stare down the tattoos that littered his body; many dedicated to you and your shared daughter. “you grippin’ me so tight baby, boutta make me cum, fuck,” connie throws his head back and whines. “tell me you’re mine n’ we gonna get back together.”

“no, con,” your words were saying one thing, but the cream ring of your arousal forming around connie’s tanned dick was betraying everything leaving your mouth. “w-we’re we’re toxic—oooh, yes, right there right there!”

suddenly, a large pair of hands come to wrap around your neck, gripping lightly. “tell me you’re mine or im not fuckin’ this pussy,” he orders. “you know i don’t be bluffing, mama. ‘specially when it come to your spoiled ass déjame oírte decirlo.”

more tears fall from your eyes as you feel your lower region bubble in evstasy. “con—“

“say it if you wanna cum.” connie’s grip around your neck tightens as he inevitably starts to babble. he was not gonna let up off you no matter what. “come on mama, say it n lemme give you another baby. gonna make you a mama all over again, want you so full of my babies, pretty—fuck,” he breathed out. “you know daddy sorry, you gonna forgive him?”

it wasn’t until connie started to add his thumb rubbing circles around your clit did you finally fold and give in. “oh fuck, yes! yes yes i forgive you con—please—“

“go head and cum mami, te quiero.” connie breathed out, feeling his own orgasm approach. “te amo joder joder por favor dame más hijos mami te estoy rogando déjame correrte dentro de ti,” the man curses into the atmosphere as he strokes himself in you a few more times.

“yes yes,” you nod in response to his pleads of cumming in you. a nanosecond later, connie’s cumming deep into you until he ends up shooting nothing but blanks. you’re full to the brim to the point where drops of his cum couldn’t help but ooze out between your puffy cunt.

“dio mio.”

#lora’s fics! ೄྀ࿐#connie springer x black reader #connie springer x chubby reader #connie springer smut #plug connie x black reader #connie x black reader #connie springer x reader #connie springer #connie springer x black reader smut #connie smut #aot x black reader #aot x chubby reader #aot smut #aot connie #connie aot

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kennahjune · 4 months

Text

Teen Dad

Quite surprised there’s not a lot of these AUs considering how much Steve apparently sleeps around but anywho.

Teen Dad Steve who finds out one of the girls he’d slept with pre-Nancy is pregnant and he damn well intends on helping out however he can.

Turns out; helping means taking his son (his SON) and having full custody because the mom, no matter how much she wants to be involved, can’t take care of him.

Steve’s alright for the first 6 months of little Louie Harrington’s life.

But then his parents come home and shit hits the fan.

Which— fair enough. He was only 17 and already had a whole ass son, they were gonna freak out.

But kicking him AND aforementioned son out? With no where to go? No money? Barely a job?

That’s just fucked up.

But Steve makes do, and lives out of his car for no more than a month before finally landing his hands on a cheap trailer in Forest Hills.

He and Louie move in and sure, it’s rough. But he’s got a nice paying job at the Diner and yeah maybe he has to skip some classes to get extra money but it’s fine. It pays his bills and rent and that’s all that really matters.

It’s fine.

And then the second wave of Upside Down fuckery hits, and Steve’s suddenly in the hospital with a grade 4 concussion (whatever that means) and his top priority is to make sure someone is with Louie.

Enter Claudia Henderson, Dustin’s mom.

She takes care of Louie for as long as Steve is in the hospital and then some when Steve can’t be left unsupervised in case his head worsens.

And that’s how the Party is introduced to little Louie (as they all call him).

Steve’s stunned to find out that Mike and Lucas are so good with little kids, but the two of them love stopping by the Henderson’s (and later on the trailer) to see little Louie and offer to babysit for him whenever.

The other kids take a little bit of time to warm up to Louie (and the fact that Steve’s actually a parent) but when they do Steve never ceases to have at least one of them over.

And with all the racket brings in the attention of nosy neighbors.

Steve is well accustomed to nosy neighbors. Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln next door to his parents were always looking to snitch on him for something or other.

But Miss Bottomette and her grandchildren Noah and Casey were sweethearts. Steve didn’t mind having them over for dinner or going over there. Miss Bottomette was the one to teach him how to actually put his cooking skills to work.

Linda and Tom, a newly married couple down the road, were quite eccentric but that’s what made them charming. Steve found their dog, Dasher, quite the sweetheart.

And even Mr. Knowles, the grouchy old man next door to Miss Bottomette, seemed to take a liking to Steve and Louie.

It wasn’t long before the story behind the new boy in 2718 New Bird Ave was revealed: Teen Dad Kicked Out.

Then the whole town knew. And while most people were nice about it, even supportive of how he had taken a step into his child’s life, there were always those people who sneered.

Steve ignored them, loving the life he was working on making for himself and Louie in the trailer park.

The only neighbors he never seemed to meet, despite the looming presence, were the Munsons, right across the street.

Steve knew about the Munsons. Well— he knew about Eddie Munson; drug dealer who was on his second run of senior year. Steve actually shared a few classes with him.

He’d yet to meet the mysterious Wayne Munson, but that was to be expected with work schedules.

And then Steve was graduating, and his parents didn’t show up.

But that was totally fine. Cause the kids, Claudia, Joyce— even Hopper with El— were there. They held up little baby Louie while Steve walked the stage.

He’d heard rumors of Eddie Munson having to retake senior year for a third time— but he didn’t dwell on it for too long. Because sure, he missed more than his fair share of classes and scraped by with a C+ average.

But he did it.

And then summer hit, Dustin left for camp, and the mall opened up.

Steve picked up a job at Scoops Ahoy, cutting back on his hours at the Diner but still staying there because the money was needed and the tips were lovely.

And he meets Robin Buckley, and actually talks to Eddie Munson every once in a while when he stops in with his band, and lets the kids sneak into the movies because he’ll be damned if he robs them of a normal summer.

And then Dustin comes back and their reunion is short-lived because Russians are hellbent on torching non-existent information out of Steve and he’s busy getting his third concussion and then there’s a fucking flesh monster and Billy and Hopper for protecting them and—

It’s not a good night.

But then he’s rushed to the hospital and he tries to call Miss Bottomette only for the call to refuse to go through and shitfuckgoddammit.

Because what about Louie?

Miss Bottomette said she’d be alright watching Louie until Steve got home, but Steve wasn’t able to go home until someone was able to make time to take him home.

Usually, he’d lean on Hopper for this stuff, since his parents were out of the question. But—

But Hoppers dead.

So he’s stuck at the hospital for another day or two until finally, Claudia comes to pick him up.

He’s with Dustin in the backseat of the car, anxiously bouncing his leg and biting at his fingers and nails until Dustin gives in and just holds his hand. Robin’s there to, having been able to leave after the first night but coming with Claudia to pick him up. Steve’s relieved to have them both close by, even if his hands reach for Erica subconsciously.

His trailer’s empty when he gets home, and Miss Bottomette isn’t answering the door.

Steve’s on the brink of a full blown breakdown before Mr. Knowles— bless his heart— points them across the street.

The Munsons apparently have his son and have for a bit now since Miss Bottomette had a minor seizure and couldn’t be left alone with Louie. Mr. Knowles assured Steve that she and the kids were fine and staying with him for the moment.

Steve wasted no time afterwards sprinting to the Munsons and knocking on the door. Dustin and Robin are close behind him, Claudia waiting patiently in the driveway.

The door is answered by a gruff looking old man that’s taller than Dustin but slightly shorter than both Robin and Steve.

“You Harrington?”

Steve nods so fast he faintly wonders if that’s how bobble heads feels.

They’re let in in no time and the old man— the infamous Wayne Munson— calls out of Eddie.

Eddie Munson emerges a moment later with little Louie in his arms, bouncing softly on his feet to keep the baby calm.

Steve is in front of him in a second, scooping Louie gently out of his arms and into his own.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Dustin’s rubbing his arms and Robin his back. Claudia is talking to Wayne, explaining what had happened (or the cover story version at least) and Eddie is hanging back a few feet from the three of them.

Robin takes little Louie in her arms and shoos Steve to the couch to calm down.

“Let him meet his auntie, Steve. You take a minute to breathe now, yeah?”

Steve was led to the couch with a soft hand on his shoulder from Eddie Munson, and they sat side by side while Steve worked on easing his breathing and to stop fucking crying.

Eddie’s shushing him and after a moment (and a clearly pointed cleared throat from Robin) Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s shaking figure.

They leave the Munsons’ trailer is promises of new babysitters and a new friendship.

And then the fuckery that’s 1986 happens.

First Part:

#stranger things #steve harrington #dustin henderson #mike wheeler #eddie munson #robin buckley #will byers #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #el hopper #jim hopper #joyce byers #claudia henderson #steddie #teen dad steve harringon #I’m lazy with the tags today sorry guys

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pucksandpower · 6 months

Text

Fairytale

Charles Leclerc x Princess of Monaco!Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc has everything he could ask for (off the track, at least) including a fairytale romance … except no one actually believes that his girlfriend is really his girlfriend

Charles sighs as he walks into the drivers’ lounge, bracing himself for the inevitable teasing. Ever since he had casually mentioned having a girlfriend, and more specifically who the girlfriend in question is, his friends have been merciless.

“Wow, if it isn’t Prince Charles in the flesh! Back from another romantic getaway with his imaginary princess,” Max laughs as he enters.

“Come on mates, lay off,” Charles pleads half-heartedly. He knows it is useless.

“I just don’t get it,” Lando chimes in. “There’s no shame in admitting that you’re single. We’re racing drivers, we don’t exactly always have time for relationships.”

“Maybe his standards are too high,” Pierre suggests. “He’s actually holding out for real royalty or something.”

The others laugh as Charles feels his face grow warm. If only they believed him.

“You know what you need?” Carlos grins. “A nice Spanish girl to set you up with. My sister’s friend Elena is single, I could give you her number.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “I told you, I have a girlfriend. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because we’ve never seen her!” Max exclaims. “You talk about her all the time but she never comes to races or appears in photos. She might as well be a unicorn.”

“Maybe she’s just embarrassed to be seen with Charles,” Lando teases.

Charles frowns, stung by Lando’s words. If only they knew the truth. The reality is that his girlfriend is extremely famous in her own right and values the little privacy she has left too much to be seen at races. Her life is already public enough without adding the scrutiny that anyone connected to a Formula 1 driver inevitably receives on top of it. Besides, she has her own royal duties to attend to.

“Come on guys, that’s unfair,” Pierre says gently, noticing Charles’ discomfort. “If Charles says he has a girlfriend, we should believe him.”

“Thank yo—” Charles starts to say with relief. At least someone is on his side.

“Even if she is imaginary,” Pierre adds with a smirk.

Charles groans and puts his head in his hands as the laughter starts up again. He can’t really blame them for not believing him.

You are basically a fairytale princess — beautiful, elegant, and kind. Not to mention an actual member of the royal family. Her Serene Highness Princess Y/N Grace Stephanie Caroline of Monaco is the type of girl people write epic poems and songs about. Charles can hardly believe his luck that you had chosen him.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Daniel interrupts, taking pity on Charles. “Leave the poor man alone.”

“We’re just joking,” Max says defensively. “Charles knows we don’t mean anything by it.”

Charles gives Max a tight smile. “Sure.”

“Tell you what,” Daniel says, clapping Charles on the shoulder. “Bring your mystery girl to a race soon. We’ll all get to meet her and then you can finally prove these jokers wrong.”

Charles sighs. If only it were that simple. You have been tempted to attend races in the past but the scrutiny both of them would come under is just too much. You treasure the privacy your relationship allows. But maybe Daniel is right. Maybe it is time for you to finally meet his friends. After all, you are the love of his life. There is nothing to hide.

“Alright, deal,” Charles says finally. “I’ll ask her.”

The others exchange surprised looks, not expecting him to agree.

“Can’t wait to meet her,” Carlos says with a wink.

Charles rolls his eyes again but smiles. One way or another, he is going to prove to them that his amazing girlfriend isn’t just a figment of his imagination.

***

Charles is still thinking about you when he is suddenly accosted by Silvia, Ferrari’s Head of Communications, after practice.

“Charles! Just who I was looking for,” she says briskly. “I need to discuss something rather important with you.”

Charles suppresses a groan. Conversations with Silvia are never fun. “What’s up?” He asks with forced cheerfulness.

Silvia lowers her voice. “It’s about your relationship status. We feel it would be beneficial if you were seen dating someone … compatible.”

Charles’ eyebrows shoot up. “Compatible?”

“Yes. A model. Or perhaps an actress. Someone who would look good on your arm and boost your image.”

Charles folds his arms defensively. “What’s wrong with my girlfriend?”

Silvia waves a hand impatiently. “Yes yes, this alleged princess you keep mentioning. The problem, Charles, is that no one has seen her. No one knows if she is actually connected to you in any way. So, as far as we are concerned, for all intents and purposes, you are single.”

Charles frowns. This again. “I keep telling you that she’s really my girlfriend. Y/N is just very private.”

“Private women don’t date Formula 1 drivers,” Silvia says bluntly. “If she really was in a relationship with you, she would be here. But since that is clearly a figment of your imagination, we need to take steps.”

Charles feels his blood boil. How dare Silvia insult his relationship with Y/N? Question their connection?

“Here are profiles of suitable options,” Silvia continues, shoving a surprisingly heavy folder at him. Charles doesn’t open it.

“No.”

Silvia blinks. “No?”

“My relationship with Y/N is off limits,” Charles says firmly. “My personal life is exactly that — personal. Not to be exploited for PR.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Silvia snaps. “This is bigger than you. Your image reflects on Ferrari. We need to be able to control it.”

“No. What you need to do is back off,” Charles shoots back.

Silvia’s nostrils flare. Clearly she isn’t used to such defiance. “Charles, be reasonable—”

“I am being reasonable,” Charles interrupts. “I won’t pretend to date someone just because the team wants me to. I’m with Y/N. I don’t care if you believe me or not.”

Silvia shakes her head in disgust. “You’re making a big mistake. Don’t come crying to me when this blows up in your face.”

She storms off, heels clicking angrily against the floor.

Charles takes a deep breath, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He can’t remember the last time he stood up to Silvia like that. It felt good but also nerve-wracking. He knows she won’t let this go easily.

His phone buzzes and his heart leaps when he sees it’s a text from you.

Heard you had a rough day. Wish I could be there to make it better. I love you 💋

Charles smiles, the tension in his shoulders easing. You always knew just what to say and when to say it.

He quickly types back.

I wish you were here too. No matter what anyone says, they can’t change my feelings for you. I love you so much ❤️

He hits send, imagining your smile as you read his text. It doesn’t matter what his team, the media, or even his fellow drivers think. His relationship with you is real and authentic. Someday he’ll find a way for you to be by his side. But for now, your private moments together are enough.

Charles knows staying with you is the right decision, PR be damned. You are his soulmate — the fairytale princess he never expected to find but thanks God every single day that he did. Your love is worth fighting for. And someday, when the time is right, he’ll finally be able to show the world that what you have together is very real.

***

Charles groans as he notices multiple missed calls from his brothers. He has been avoiding their calls lately, knowing they would just tease him mercilessly about his girlfriend. But he knows he can’t dodge them forever.

Taking a deep breath, he calls Arthur back.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Prince Charles himself, taking time away from his busy schedule of dating princesses to spare a chat with us commoners,” Arthur says slyly upon answering.

Charles rolls his eyes. “Very funny. What do you want?”

“We just wanted to check in on our brother and see how life with Monegasque royalty is treating you,” Lorenzo chimes in. Charles realizes he must be on speaker.

“Oh yes, Princess Y/N,” Arthur says in an exaggerated swoony voice. “Our brother’s one true love since he was 15 years old and had that giant poster of her plastered on his wall.”

Charles feels his face flush. He knows exactly what poster Arthur is referencing — a stunning photo of you in a ballgown from a high society event years ago. Teenage Charles has ripped it out of a magazine and hung it up reverently in his room, gazing at it longingly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he sputters. “I never had a poster.”

“Oh really?” Lorenzo laughs. “I seem to recall you cutting out every picture you could find of her and keeping a little scrapbook.”

Charles cringes internally. Okay, maybe his teenage obsession had been a bit … enthusiastic. But he can’t help that he had recognized you as his dream girl even then.

“Alright, so maybe I had a tiny crush on her,” Charles admits. “But it is not crazy that we ended up together.”

Arthur cackles. “You used to kiss her photos goodnight before going to bed! You were completely obsessed!”

“Remember how he tried to sneak into that royal gala at Salle des Etoiles to see her?” Lorenzo adds. “He was totally insane.”

Charles grimaces at the memory. Okay, not his finest moment.

“Face it Charles, you’ve been in love with the imaginary idea of Princess Y/N since you were in nappies,” Arthur teases. “No shame in admitting she wouldn't even give you the time of day now.”

Charles feels his frustration rising. Why does no one believe him?

“Because your so-called relationship makes no sense!” Lorenzo says, accurately reading his silence. “She’s a literal princess and you’re … you.”

“Gee, thanks,” Charles grumbles. He knows his brothers are just teasing but it still stings.

“Come on, just admit you made the whole thing up to get everyone off your back,” Arthur prods.

Charles sighs loudly. “For the millionth time, what we have is 100 percent real! Just because it seems unlikely doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I don’t care if none of you believe me, I love her and she loves me.”

His brothers are silent for a moment.

“You alright there?” Arthur asks, his voice softening.

“Yes, I just wish everyone would stop questioning my relationship all the time,” Charles admits. “It hurts.”

“We’re only joking Charles, we don’t mean any harm,” Lorenzo says gently.

“I know,” Charles replies. “Doesn’t make it any easier to hear constantly though.”

“You’re right, we took the teasing too far,” Arthur says. “We’ll lay off from now on.”

Charles smiles slightly. “Thanks. And someday soon I will prove to you that it is real.”

His brothers are silent for a moment.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Arthur finally laughs.

Charles groans and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. Clearly nothing he says would convince his stubborn brothers that his relationship with you was real and not merely a childhood fantasy.

“Alright, well, I should get going,” Charles mumbles, eager to get off the phone.

“Chin up, we’re only teasing,” Lorenzo says lightly. “Have fun with your imaginary princess!”

Arthur and Lorenzo explode into more laughter as Charles quickly hangs up, his face burning. Someday, he will prove to them and everyone else that his amazing girlfriend isn’t just a figment of his imagination. No matter how long it takes.

***

Charles sinks into the familiar couch in his sports psychologist’s office, exhausted after a long day on the simulator and endless teasing from his team.

“Rough day out there?” Dr. Anderson asks kindly, noticing the strain on Charles’ face.

“That’s an understatement,” Charles sighs. “The car is just so slow this year. We keep trying new setups and tweaks but nothing helps. And the strategy is somehow even worse than the pace. It’s like the team wants me to fail.”

Dr. Anderson nods sympathetically. “That must be very frustrating. Tell me more about how it’s impacting you.”

Charles launches into a tirade about the endless issues with the car, the incompetent strategists, and the lack of proper communication from his engineers. Dr. Anderson listens patiently, letting him vent his pent-up anger and disappointment.

After a lengthy rant, Charles finally runs out of steam. “Anyway, it’s just been a terrible season,” he concludes glumly.

“I can certainly understand why you feel that way,” Dr. Anderson says. “It sounds like the team is letting you down in many ways.”

Charles nods, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders after unloading. It helps to talk about it with someone whose job is not to judge.

“Is there anything else bothering you lately?” Dr. Anderson asks gently. “Any other sources of stress?”

Charles hesitates. He and Dr. Anderson have been working together for years, ever since he joined Ferrari. He knows he can open up to her.

“It’s just … well, besides the team stuff, no one believes me about my girlfriend,” he admits.

Dr. Anderson raises her eyebrows. “I see. Tell me more about that.”

Charles explains the endless teasing from his fellow drivers, the manipulation attempts by the PR team, and the doubtful reactions from his own family. How despite his best efforts, no one seems willing to accept that he is really dating Princess Y/N of Monaco.

“It’s so frustrating!" He bursts out at the end. “I don’t know what else I can do to convince them that we are actually together.”

Dr. Anderson purses her lips, jotting down notes. “I can understand why their doubt would upset you. It must be painful to have your relationship questioned.”

“Exactly!" Charles exclaims, throwing his hands up. “You get it. I knew I could talk to you.”

Dr. Anderson gives him a sympathetic smile.

Charles leaves the appointment feeling much better, confident that his psychologist believes him and is on his side.

As he is exiting, Charles notices Dr. Anderson’s notebook left open on her desk. Before he can stop himself, his eyes scan the page and focus on his name.

He feels his heart sink as he reads.

Charles Leclerc: deflecting from pain of difficult season by creating elaborate fantasy relationship. Fixation on celebrity crush indicates deeper self-esteem issues. Recommend to confront delusion directly in next session.

Charles reels, shock and anger swirling through him. Not even his own psychologist believes him! She thinks he is living in some weird fantasy.

Swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth, Charles straightens his shoulders and walks out. He has never felt more alone and frustrated in his conviction. But he refuses to give up. No matter what anyone says, his love for you is real. And one day, somehow, he will prove it to the world.

***

Charles is back at his family home in Monaco during a rare few days off. He is puttering around the kitchen while his mother cooks dinner.

“Oh, by the way, Y/N is coming over for dinner tonight,” Charles mentions casually. “I want you all to finally meet her.”

Pascale laughs lightly without looking up from the stove. “Of course, sweetie.”

Charles frowns. “I’m serious, maman. She’ll be here in an hour.”

“Mhmm, I’m sure she will,” Pascale replies indulgently. Charles huffs in annoyance.

Just then, his brothers come into the kitchen, freshly showered after playing football outside.

“Hey Charles, how’s life with your imaginary girlfriend?” Lorenzo immediately teases.

“She’s actually coming over for dinner tonight,” Charles says tersely.

Arthur lets out a loud laugh. “Yeah right! Good one.” He grabs a piece of bread from the counter, still chuckling.

Charles throws his hands up in exasperation. “Why does no one ever believe me about her?”

“Boys, that’s enough,” Pascale chides gently. “Let your brother dream.”

Charles opens his mouth to retort but just then, the doorbell rings. His eyes widen.

“I’ll get it!" He yells, dashing for the door. He takes a deep breath before swinging it open to reveal you standing there casually in jeans and a sweater, looking effortlessly gorgeous.

“Surprise!" You laugh, pulling him into a tight hug. Charles melts into your embrace, all his stress and frustration fading away.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you right now,” he murmurs into your hair.

You pull back to smile at him tenderly. “I’ve been looking forward to this for ages. I want your family to know how much I love you.”

Charles grins and takes your hand, leading your into the kitchen where his stunned family waits.

Pascale’s mouth is hanging open in shock. The piece of bread Arthur is holding falls to the floor with a dull thump.

“Y-your Serene Highness,” Pascale finally manages to stammer out, hastily wiping her hands on a towel. “What an honor, we weren’t expecting you ...”

She shoots an accusatory look at Charles, who throws up his hands defensively. “I told you she was coming!”

Pascale flushes. “Yes, well, I didn’t think … that is … we would have prepared ...”

You step forward gracefully, immediately putting Pascale at ease. “Please, just call me Y/N. I’ve been dying to meet Charles’ family.”

As you effortlessly charm his mother and brothers, Charles stands back watching with a satisfied smile. The shock and sheepishness on his family’s faces is vindicating after so many months of teasing and disbelief.

Charles has never been one to say “I told you so” but … I told you so.

***

The cheers of the crowd are deafening as the chequered flag waves for Charles at the Monaco Grand Prix. He can hardly believe it — finally, a win at his home race!

As he pulls into parc fermé and jumps out of the car, the emotions hit him. Pure elation at ending the long wait for a home victory. Relief at overcoming the team’s doubts. But most of all, excitement for what comes next.

The podium ceremony.

And with the Monegasque royal family presenting the trophies as usual, Charles knows exactly who will be handing him the winner’s trophy.

He can barely stand still through the anthems, eager for his moment with you. The weekend has been agony, so close to you yet having to pretend that there is nothing between the two of you.

But not anymore.

At last, the royal family walks onto the podium led by none other than Princess Y/N. Charles’ heart skips a beat at the sight of you gliding towards him in a figure-hugging red midi dress, sunlight glinting off your carefully styled hair. You somehow manage to become more and more beautiful every time he sees you.

Stopping in front of him, you give him a subtle wink before launching into the customary congratulatory speech. Charles nods along, not hearing a word as he zones out while admiring the stunning woman he gets to call his own.

At last, you turn to pick up the trophy. “It is my honor to present this trophy to our victor, who represents Monaco with pride in everything he does, Charles Leclerc,” you announce, holding it out to him with a brilliant smile.

In that moment, Charles throws all caution to the wind. As he accepts the trophy, he reaches out and pulls you into a passionate kiss.

The crowd below erupts in shocked cheers and screams. You melt into the kiss for a blissful moment before gently pulling back, your eyes sparkling. Charles grins at you breathlessly.

“Worth the wait?” He murmurs.

“Absolutely,” you whisper back, squeezing his hand. “I’m so proud of you, mon amour.”

Turning back to the roaring crowd, Charles wraps an arm around your waist and thrusts your linked hands into the air in triumph.

Looking out at the paddock, Charles sees the priceless dumbfounded looks on his fellow drivers’ faces. The Ferrari PR team looks ready to pass out in horror. Reporters are screaming questions and snapping photos frantically.

But Charles only has eyes for the radiant princess at his side. At long last, he has made your love public for the whole world to see.

Later, after celebrations around the circuit have started winding down in favor of moving to lounges and clubs for the night, Charles and you escape for a private moment together.

“That was quite the reveal,” you say with an amused quirk of your eyebrow.

Charles laughs. “I know, subtlety has never been my strong suit. I hope you don’t mind.”

You caress his face tenderly. “Of course not. I’m happy to finally be by your side. No more hiding.”

Charles kisses you deeply, all the love and longing of the past months pouring into it.

When you finally break apart, foreheads touching, he murmurs, “No more doubts. No more teasing. They all know now that you’re real and all mine.”

“Forever yours,” you whisper back. And seal it with another perfect kiss.

***

“I can’t believe it. I just … actually can’t believe it,” Max mutters, staring at the large screens around the paddock that are showing you and Charles gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes during the post-race interviews.

“Lord Perceval … dating an actual princess,” Carlos muses in disbelief.

“And not just any princess, his teenage celebrity crush!" Lando exclaims.

“I guess we owe him an apology,” Pierre says sheepishly.

“Big time,” Daniel agrees. “We gave him so much crap for making her up.”

“Speak of the devil,” Max mutters as Charles strides into the room, hand-in-hand with you.

An awkward silence descends on the group. Charles clears his throat, enjoying their obvious discomfort.

“I believe you all know my girlfriend, Her Serene Highness Y/N Grace Stephanie Caroline, Hereditary Princess of Monaco and Marquise of Baux. But you can just call her Your Serene Highness or Princess Y/N,” he says politely.

The guys mumble greetings, not quite meeting your eyes. You smile graciously. “You can just call me Y/N. Any friend of Charles is a friend of mine and there’s no need for titles around friends.”

Charles narrows his eyes. “Actually I don’t think that will be necessary. I believe they should maintain protocol and address you properly.”

You shoots him a look. “Darling, it’s fine, really. I want your friends to feel comfortable around me.”

But Charles crosses his arms, not budging. “No, it’s not fine. I must insist that they observe the formal mode of address for royalty.”

The drivers shift awkwardly again. You pull Charles aside with a soothing smile.

“What are you doing?” You whisper. “I’m trying to put them at ease.”

“I know but they deserve to squirm for a bit after how much they mocked us,” Charles whispers back petulantly.

You bite back a smile. “Don’t be silly. I know their teasing hurt but let’s move past it. Can you really blame them for thinking it sounds like a made up fairytale? Put yourself in their shoes.”

Charles sighs. “I guess you’re right ... I just want them to respect you.”

“They will, in time,” you say gently. “But forcing them to be overly formal won’t accomplish that. I’m still just me.”

Charles nods reluctantly. “Okay fine, we’ll do it your way.”

You turn back to the drivers who are trying to act natural and pretending that they didn’t just listen in on your conversation with a bright smile. “I’ve heard so much about all of you,” you say. “Charles speaks very highly of his fellow drivers.”

“We’re, uh, happy to finally meet you too,” Max manages to get out.

“Yeah, congrats mate,” Daniel offers weakly.

More awkward silence follows. Charles smirks, deciding to twist the knife a bit more.

“I know you all had your doubts about me landing a catch like Y/N,” he says casually. “But I can’t blame you. Even I can hardly believe someone so incredible would fall for me.”

He gazes at you adoringly as you blush prettily while the drivers fidget uneasily.

“Anyway, as you can now see, she’s real and we are happier than ever!" Charles concludes brightly.

“We’re really sorry for not believing you,” Lando bursts out sincerely. “And all the teasing.”

The others chime in with apologies and congratulations. Charles graciously accepts, reassuring them no hard feelings.

After you have throughly charmed them all and departed, the group surrounds Charles excitedly.

“Alright, you have to give us all the details,” Max demands. “How did you meet? How did you get her to go out with you? When did it get serious?”

Charles just laughs. “It’s a long story. But the important thing is that she’s the only one for me. Despite everyone doubting us, our love was real from the start.”

“Pretty epic to have a real life princess as your soulmate,” Pierre says dreamily.

“Just remember you knew me back when you all thought she was imaginary,” Charles jokes.

“We’ll never live it down,” Carlos groans goodnaturedly.

Charles smiles, feeling lighter and happier than he has in ages. The long struggle to prove himself has been worth it. Now he has everything — the win, the girl, and the utter shock and joy of proving to the world that even his wildest dreams can come true.

And this is only the beginning for him and his beloved princess.

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vivwritesfics · 23 days

Text

Max Verstappen Shirt

The fans and fellow wags don't like it when she wears the same out fit to a Grand Prix. She doesn't much care

There were quite a few things Max liked about dating an ordinary girl. 1) she had no idea who he was. 2) she had no idea who his friends were. 3) she didn't expect anything from him.

Max could get takeout for them while they watched a movie and she would be happy. He didn't have to take her out to fancy, overpriced restaurants. He didn't have to take her out shopping for a new outfit every time they left the apartment.

Now, Max would have done all if this I'd she asked. But she didn’t ask. She appreciated him the way he was.

It was a little while into their relationship before Max took her to her first Grand Prix. Her outfit was cute and extremely weather appropriate. A cute top and a cute pair of jeans. Max walked her through the paddock with his hand on the small of her back.

When Max won, he ran over to his team, jumping into their arms. And then he was taking his helmet off, replaced it with his hat and walked over to her, kissing her slowly. (It was captured on video, and circulated the Internet for weeks. Every time it came across her feed, she couldn't stop herself from sending it to Max).

At the next Grand Prix she dressed as well as she could. The jeans were the same, but the top was different. Her outfit was both complimented and criticised online.

Not that she saw the criticism. No, all she saw was the video of Max kissing her after his win. Of her wrapping her arms so tight around him as she peppered kisses all over his face beforing giving him maybe the most memorable kiss of his life.

She knew Max had money. She was aware of it every time she flew in his private jet. Every time she stayed in his Monaco apartment. Every time he drove her in his cars. She knew he had money, but she didn't want him buying her stuff.

No, that wasn't the reason she was with him. She wasn't there because he was an F1 driver, because he could buy her everything she ever wanted. She was there because he was a cute, slightly dorky guy that she wanted to spend every waking minute with.

She remembered the first time she wore the same thing twice to a Grand Prix. The outfit was so cute, but it didn't matter how cute it was.

So far, all of the other wags had been so lovely to her. They were kind, but she hadn't been around long enough to really be friends with any of them.

It was Daniels girlfriend that pulled her to one side before the race. The two had spent the most time together out of any of the wags she had met so far (aided by Maxs friendship with Daniel).

"Hey Love," she said, wearing a charming smile as she wrapped her arms around her. "I love the top. Have I seen it before?" Daniels girlfriend asked.

Y/N couldn't help but grin as she looked down at her top. "Thanks!" She grinned. "Found it really cheap, wore it to Monaco," she said.

Daniels girlfriend sucked in a breath. "Well, as a general rule, Wags don't wear the same outfit to two grand prix," she said, her hand on her shoulder. "Not unless they really have to."

The way she said it, she was clearly implying something. But she wasn't the only person thinking it. There were people online saying the same thing.

"Well, nice catching up," Daniels girlfriend said and walked away, leaving her alone.

She couldn't bring herself to look dejected as she walked back to the Red Bull garage. Unlike other Wags, she didn't have the funds for a new outfit every race. Max would have been only too happy to buy her a new outfit for every Grand Prix if she asked.

But she wouldn't ask.

"What's up?" Asked Max as she walked towards him with an unintentional pout on her lips.

She quickly replaced the pout with when she looked up at him. "Nothing," she said. "Just hold me."

Doubt and all kinds of negative feelings consumed her. But she was a fighter and she needed to do something about it.

There are incredible things you can find on Etsy, like This Shirt Right Here. She bought herself one. No, she bought herself five. The first time she turned up wearing one, it was iconic. The second time she went to a Grand Prix wearing one, it was still iconic.

If the wags and the fans had a problem with her wearing the same thing to each Grand Prix, they could suck her dick.

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nathaslosthershit · 2 months

Text

A Much Needed Interview (OP81)

(Part 2 of Teen Dad) Summary: After the shock of Oscar revealing himself to be a former teen dad, he joins an interview in the hopes of clearing everything up and limiting the overwhelming amount of questions he has been getting.

“Oscar, it is nice of you to sit down with us. I know it has been an interesting few weeks for you and your family. How are you guys all doing?” The interviewer asks.

‘Yeah, y’know, I had expected to one day have to open up about it all, but I never thought I’d have to do it the way I did. It has been fine, obviously my kids are young enough to not be impacted because they aren’t on social media, but it has been strange for my fiancée who is now getting hundreds of requests on her private account. I have sort of decided to take a break from social media because the response has been overwhelming and like none before. Mostly positive but I think a few people have gotten the wrong idea so I was hoping to clear everything up.” Oscar rambled. He was more nervous about this interview than any he had done before.

“Of course. Why don’t we start at the beginning, how did you and your fiancée meet?”

“We actually met at one of my races. She went to support one of her close friend’s brothers. After the race that I sadly didn’t do too well in, I saw her with her friend and I was kinda frozen in my spot, immediately head over heels. Sadly, it seems like everyone but her noticed. I was too scared to do anything so I just watched her leave. I think I sulked for days, totally regretting my decision to do nothing. A totally heartbroken 16 year old. I looked for her every single race until she finally came back a few months later.”

“Oh please tell me you finally got the confidence to shoot your shot.”

“Nope! I just stared at her and stuttered when she caught me looking then ran off. I then had an amazing race, I think part of me was just trying to make up for the embarrassment and luckily it seems my car got the memo. After the race she came up to me and asked for my number.” God, he was blushing profusely at the memory. He knew he would be getting slack for this for a very long time.

“Such a story! The young Oscar Piastri was no ladies’ man.”

“He was absolutely not. Soon after we started dating.” Oscar awkwardly laughed, sensing what was about to come up.

“And then kids came shortly after?” The interviewer asked with care in his voice, certainly able to sense Oscar’s change in attitude.

“Yeah. Uh, obviously not planned. I don’t think many people plan to become parent’s at 18. It was a shock… I didn’t handle it the best at first, something I think I will always regret. She was scared and while so was I, I should have been more supportive. I was embarrassed for a while. Felt like a total idiot. I didn’t tell anyone outside of my family and made them swear to secrecy. I also began to isolate myself from friends because I couldn’t bring myself to tell them but also felt terrible lying. A few months in I finally snapped myself out of it and began to focus on all the wonderfulness that was to come. I loved her more than anything and I would be lying if I said I hadn’t already imagined a life together in great detail. By the time we found out it was twins, a boy and a girl, I was ecstatic.”

“Well mate, I don’t blame you for your feelings. I definitely would have been a terrible father at 18 so I salute you.” The interviewer joked.

“Honestly, I had the same thought for a while, even when I was excited to have kids. I had so many doubts about it, I mean how could I not? But when it came down to it, I couldn’t afford to be anything less than a great father. Of course I had my moments, and still do years later, but I wouldn’t be able to let myself be anything less than I am. If you love your kids enough, you find a way.”

“How did having kids so young impact your career? Obviously it didn’t hurt it too much considering you are in your second year driving in Formula 1.”

“Well, I decided I wouldn’t advertise my situation unless a team was very serious about me. Prema knew, Alpine did too and of course McLaren does. All were welcoming and accommodating, as much as they could be. I don’t think I would have gone with any of them if they weren’t cool with it though. I realized the minute my kids were born I would give it all up for them, which scared the hell out of me.”

“That is admirable. All these years later you are still with their mother, correct?”

“Yes! I asked her to marry me over break. Everyone close to us had been confused as to why it took so long but we had discussed marriage together many times and made the decision that because our relationship moved so fast with having kids so young, we would wait a bit. I mean, we are still young but I honestly couldn’t wait any longer. She is everything to me and the most wonderful mother my kids could have.”

“Have your kids been around the paddock yet? I assume they are old enough to understand what you do.”

“They have been to the factory and come with me to meetings when we haven’t had a sitter for them. Luckily, they are both very well behaved in public, they also really like watching the races on tv and have somewhat of an understanding of what I do. They don’t believe I actually drive the car though.” Oscar rumbled. Trying to convince his twins that yes, their father actually does drive the cars they see going super fast, has been an ongoing issue. They seem to believe he is tricking them but have no problem believing Uncle Logan and Uncle Lando drive the cars. It has definitely humbled him immensely.

“Well you will have to fix that soon huh? Will they be attending races in the future?”

“I am trying to work that out with my fiancée actually. They are almost four so we don’t want them traveling too far, I also don’t believe they will be able to be entertained solely by the race the entire time so we have a lot to deal with. But I think seeing them on the paddock supporting me will be one of the best moments of my life. I selfishly can’t wait for them to come.”

The interview wrapped up shortly after that. Getting to reminisce on the start of his relationship and how far they have come and how many wonderful things are in the future put Oscar in a deliriously happy mood. He couldn’t wait to get home to his family.

Walking through the door, he was immediately welcomed to the sound of toddler meltdowns. Fully entering the house, he saw his very tired fiancée rubbing her face as she tried to calm her babies down. Clearly this had been going on for a while.

Despite how upset she looked, she immediately perked up at seeing Oscar had returned. But that immediately went away as she remembered the screaming kids and how messy the house and herself were.

“Sorry honey, I know you are probably so tired after the interview and meetings earlier and these two missed their nap so they are so cranky and I just-” He cut her off with a kiss. Once he pulled away she looked at him, perplexed. A kiss from Oscar was never unwelcome but it was the last thing she expected at that moment.

“Hey, look at me.” He said as he put a hand on her cheek. “I love you and our little family so much and you never, ever have to apologize for something as trivial as this. Why don’t you go get in the bath and relax a little and I will try to wrangle these two, okay?”

In her eyes, Oscar had never been hotter than he was now. Now it was her turn to surprise him with a kiss, even more passionate than the first. They would have continued if it hadn’t been for more screaming from their two kids.

Still, Oscar wouldn’t change a thing.

#formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #op81 fluff #op81 imagine #op81 x reader

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bluejutdae · 2 months

Text

• best friend Stray Kids saving you (or being saved by you) from a bad date | Minho x you

Chan, Changbin, Jisung, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin

genre: friends to lovers

warnings: asshole date, nothing happens but reader thinks her date might follow her home

This night has been terrible so far. Your friend convinced you to go out with one of her colleagues to get over your crush for Minho, and you knew it was pointless, but she insisted so much you have lost the will to fight. So you wore a nice dress and a minute before you left the apartment, the guy texted you saying there was a change of plans and to meet two hours later and at a different location. Is the dating scene like this for everybody? You haven’t dated anyone for a long time, a bit because of how things ended with your last boyfriend but mostly because of the raging (unreciprocated) crush for Minho.

Minho’s now one of your closest friends, but you never actually gave up on your feelings for him. It’s almost comfortable, safe in a way, to love someone knowing things won’t change but won’t end either.

But for the sake of shutting up your friend, you are now in a very shitty situation. The guy is pretty, you’re mature enough to admit that, but he’s a major asshole. Even ignoring the last minute change of plans, the fact that he arrived 25 minutes later and apparently the new location is a nightclub. His hands have been on you the moment he introduced himself and the more you try to put some distance between you two, the more he’s all over you. You could just leave, that’s true. It’s also true that this guy is very set on never leaving your side and he’s so pushy you’re certain he wouldn’t hesitate to follow you home.

You wonder when Minho is going to be here so you can at least leave the club and have him keep you company, when you feel a hand grabbing your wrist. You turn to find the hand holding you belongs to Minho himself and he’s looking at you with a surly expression, teeth clenched and a frown between his eyebrows. “We’re going home.”

His voice is cold and firm, you’ve never heard him speak to you like that. Your date notices the scene and turns to Minho. “Woah dude, she’s mine tonight.”

Minho’s cold stare rests on the guy and at the same time your friend makes a step to place himself between you and your date. “She’ll never be yours, not tonight, not never. She belongs to me. Dude.” The last word was spat through Minho’s teeth, mocking and a bit cruel.

Words die on the guy’s tongue when Minho gets into his face and says something too quiet for you to hear.

A moment later he’s gently pushing you away and through the crowd, towards the exit.

“Well, that was intense,” you joke when you’re safe on the sidewalk.

“Don’t you ever put yourself into a situation like this. Ever again.” He’s on your face, almost screaming the words at you, anger contorting his face.

You can understand he was worried, but you don’t like the way he’s talking to you.

“Ya, Minho! Do you think I wanted that?” You raise your eyebrows. “I didn’t call you so you could scold me! I called you because I trusted you to help me, I know I was in a shitty situation!”

“And yet you still got into this situation!” He rebuts, and in this moment you hate him a little.

Why is he judging you like this? Why is he blaming you? Sure, you were a bit too naive but it’s not like you consciously decided to put yourself in a potentially dangerous situation.

“This clearly wasn’t what I expected.”

“No? You’re the one who decided to go to a club with a man you didn’t know. And you came alone! Was bringing a friend too easy?”

“Fuck you, Minho!”

You stalk away, towards the direction of the bus stop. Why is he mad at you now? He’s never been mean or cruel to you, despite what lots of people say about him, he’s a caring friend.

You can hear his footsteps getting close and you almost laugh at the thought that comes to your mind: you are always so focused on him, you can now recognize his footsteps.

“I parked in the other direction.”

“Then go the other direction. I don’t need you here. Sorry I bothered you. I won’t be your problem anymore.”

“You are my problem.”

“Oh, so I really am a problem to you.” You can believe him. All this because he had to come get you? You didn’t think it’d be such a hassle.

“Yes. You’ve been my problem since I met you.”

“You’re being so fucking cruel tonight, Minho.”

“I am not- can you stop walking?” He asks, sounding exasperated. You stop and face him, one hand on your hip and your lips pursed in disapproval. “So you can tell me more about how I’m a problem?”

“I didn’t say a problem.”

“You said exac-“

“I said MY problem! Emphasis on my. Because you’re not other people’s problem. And I don’t want you to belong to other guys, don’t want them to call you theirs! I want you to be mine.”

You stare at him for half a minute, silent and still. Putting aside the fact that he’s repeating the fact that you’re a problem, you try to read between the lines.

“Is this a fucked up way to tell me you have feeling for me?”

“Yes.”

This is ridiculous. Really ridiculous. Your crush has feelings for you. And the most backwards way of confessing. Well, considering he is Minho, it’s pretty in character for him. Still ridiculous, though.

“I didn’t know you decided to go on dates.” He says it like a second thought.

“I didn’t.”

“You were on a date.”

“Doesn’t mean I decided to go on dates.”

“Means exactly that.”

“Jesus, Minho. Can you ever drop something?”

“Not when it’s about you.”

This asshole. How can you find his otherwise annoying answers amusing?

“My friend insisted so much that she wore me down, so I accepted this date with her colleague. So, as I said, I haven’t decided to go on dates.”

“Good.”

“You can never be normal, uh? Always with a weird answer.”

“You like weird.”

“I do.”

“You’re normal. I like normal.”

He likes normal, and he likes you. And he tells you so in a Minho way at least another ten times in the following minutes, during your way home.

You say goodbye and you’re about to get out of the car, when he puts his hand on your arm, an hesitant expression on his face. “No more other guys, right?”

You smile softly at him. “No more other guys. There hasn’t really been another guy since I met you.”

His smile is all you need.

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #bluejutdae #skz #minho smau #minho imagines #minho fanfic #minho scenarios #Thiana writes Minho

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moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

hello love! i know you probably a dumpster load of requests so i apologize for taking your time. but i just had a thought.; james potter is totally the kind of guy to tell his girlfriend he's taken when drunk. like that man is to loyal for his own good. even when his own gf is trying to bring to home, he's just like "no. i've got a girlfriend that I love DEARLY. leave me alone" and when she keeps trying he'd call for sirius for backup😭. don't feel guilty if you don't do this!! i just wanted to share my thought, with or without you writing it! have an AMAZING day or night, and keep being YOU!! you inspire many people whether you believe that or not, it stays true!!!

Thanks sweetheart, love you!

cw: alcohol

modern au

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 844 words

You find your boyfriend in a corner booth, hanging onto Sirius’ arm and waxing poetic about their school days.

“They never figured out how we always avoided Minnie whenever she wanted to find us,” he snickers, eyes glimmering. “We were soooo slippery.”

“I think she knew everything,” says Remus, taking a sip of his drink. You notice there’s not one in front of James; it must have been confiscated. “She just liked us—some of us, that is—” He hides a smirk behind his glass. “—well enough to let us get away with it all.” He spots you and, with a nod, turns his attention to Sirius to give you and James space.

James humphs noncommittally, confused as to why Remus no longer seems to be entertaining him.

You come up on his other side, touching his muscled shoulder lightly. “Hey.”

James turns swiftly, clearing not having noticed you walking over. You’re expecting a smile and a hug and expectant, puckered lips—his usual greeting for you—but instead his eyes narrow behind his glasses, brows twitching together almost imperceptibly.

“Hello,” he says, somewhat stiffly.

You feel your lips curve into a bemused sort of smile. “Hi, handsome. Ready to go home?”

He guffaws. Actually guffaws, like you’ve just suggested he go jump in the Thames. “I think not,” he says. “I have a girlfriend.”

A tiny laugh startles out of you. “Yeah, I’m aware. You alright?”

Now he gives you a smile. Or his best attempt at one, but James has always been a terrible actor, and the false grin manifests as a grimace. “M’good, thanks.”

He starts to turn back towards his friends, but you pull on his sleeve.

“C’mon, Jamie,” you urge. “It’s time to go, yeah?” James turns around, looking truly scandalized now. You give his arm a tug. “Let’s go home.”

“No,” he insists, firmer than you knew could be managed with a slur. “I told you, I have a girlfriend. She’s waiting at my home, ‘nd I love her very much. Leave me alone.”

“James,” you laugh. “Honey, it’s me.”

“Pads.” He turns around, wrapping his arm around Sirius’ shoulders like he needs to hold onto something lest you try and haul him away. “Pads, this woman is trying to take me home. Tell ‘er I have a girlfriend.”

Your mouth drops open. “James!”

Sirius turns slowly, raking his gaze over you. He raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Get lost, babe. This one’s taken.”

Then he jolts and cuts a glare towards Remus, who sips from his drink innocently. “Be nice,” he reminds his boyfriend, foot moving back under his own chair.

Sirius sighs, rolling his eyes. “Prongs,” he says with great reluctance, “this is your girlfriend.”

Even drunk, James knows enough to be suspicious of his friend when he’s in a mischief-making mood. He squints at Sirius. “My girlfriend s’at home,” he reasons.

“Your girlfriend is here,” Sirius says evenly, and you can’t blame James for his skepticism; if you weren’t fully aware that you are here, you wouldn’t trust Sirius’ deadpan stare either.

“I texted her, James,” Remus says helpfully. “She’s here because I told her where we were.”

Your boyfriend’s lips part, and he turns to you with something between joy and heartache—but the shock of both—written all over his face. “Sweetheart,” he cries, “it’s you!”

“Yeah,” you laugh, letting him tug you forward by the hips into an awkward hug. You set a consoling hand on top of his head. “That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

“My sweetheart,” he mumbles into your stomach. “I didn’t know it was you, angel. Of course I’ll go home with you.”

“Glad to hear it.” You pat his back, heat rising to your cheeks at the display.

James turns his head, still gripping you tightly so the side of his face is pressed to your front. “You texted her for me?” he asks Remus, maudlin.

“Well, I texted her because I didn’t feel like walking in the opposite direction of our flat to carry you home,” Remus says, then shrugs. “But for you too, sure.”

“Thank you, Moony,” James croons.

Remus turns to hide a smile, and you take James’ head in your hands, angling his face back up towards you. “Hi, handsome,” you try again. “Ready to go home?”

He bobs his head happily, clambering out of his seat and whistling rowdily when you slip an arm around his waist to help support him. You wonder if the heat from your face could be harvested to power a hospital or something. You wave goodbye to his friends as James calls over your shoulder how much he’ll miss them until he sees them tomorrow.

“M’so excited to go home, baby.” He leans into your side as you maneuver the both of you out the door of the pub. “I’ve been dying to get home to you. You should’a heard, earlier, I was talking to this other girl ‘nd I told her, ‘I’m just dying to get home to my girlfriend’.”

“Yeah, I remember,” you say. “That was me.”

“Oh, right!”

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