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wileys-russo · 1 day

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like a dumb rom com (3) II k.cooney-cross x catley!reader

this is many many months overdue but feels good to tick it off my wips and wrap this little series up finally! one two like a dumb rom com (3) II k.cooney-cross x catley!reader

ever since steph walked out after catching you and kyra you'd been on edge. plastering a fake smile on your face you made an effort to show appreciation for all your teammates and friends showing up, avoiding both your sister and your girlfriend like they had some sort of infectious disease.

but if anyone noticed the underlying tension they didn't comment on it, though you felt the looks thrown your way by caitlin every now and then who seemed to stay stuck by stephs side for the rest of the evening.

as well as from kyra who was doing her very best to respect you were in an awkward position, but her hands itched to grab yours in them and she found herself staring longingly at you across the room nearly the entire night.

"okay! training tomorrow girls, think its about time we wrapped this up." it was kim who made the call around ten thirty at night, half of the girls already having left and the rest of you lounged about talking.

you looked up from your conversation with lia and caught your sisters eye, dropping your gaze right away as they burned a hole in your head and everyone all started their goodbyes.

when it came to kyra it was obvious neither of you were sure what to do, awkwardly staring at one another before you went for a hug and kyra stuck her hand out for a fist bump.

you both blushed bright red and mumbled apologies before you grabbed her hand and dragged her outside.

"i'm really sorry about-" you cut off your girlfriends apology with a shake of your head and stole a quick kiss. "don't. its not how i wanted her to find out but she was bound to sooner or later." you sighed with a somewhat sad smile.

with a slight frown kyra poked at the corners of your mouth, turning your lips upward into a proper smile. "dickhead!" you pushed her lightly, pulling her a little more around the corner of the house and out of sight.

"i love you." your hands fell to her cheeks as you brought her in for a proper kiss, the words mumbled right back against your lips before you pulled apart, promising you'd check in later and she hurried off to get a lift with teyah.

"you call me if you need something yeah?" caitlin murmured as she hugged you goodbye next, a short nod all she needed before heading off with katie.

you were hoping to sneak away to your room as steph was busy saying goodbye to jen, but fate wasn't in your favour.

"hey kid." you stopped halfway down the hallway and turned, dean standing a few feet behind with a sympathetic smile. "you know the more you avoid it, the longer it drags out and the worse its going to be." he reminded as you sighed, unable to really argue that fact as you followed after him.

steph had her back to you in the kitchen washing something up with far too much vigor, furiously scrubbing a glass you were surprised hadn't smashed in her hands yet.

you shifted awkwardly on the balls of your feet, wishing the ground would swallow you up as dean cleared his throat, steph pausing to glance briefly over her shoulder as he subtly nodded in your direction.

"you are unbelievable." was all your sister spoke, barely loud enough for you hear as she continued washing up, dean stepping out to the living room to give the pair of you some privacy but still hovering close enough that he could intervene if needed, taking calvin with him.

"pardon?" you scoffed, unsure if you'd heard her correctly as she shook her head, dropping whatever was in her hands back into the sink full of water and whipping around to properly face you.

"i said, you are unbelievable." your sister spoke louder this time, drying her hands on a tea towel and glaring you down. "oh and do tell steph, why exactly is that?" you questioned, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring right back at her.

"this. all of this! you are way too immature to be in a relationship, or whatever you and kyra are." steph rolled her eyes as again you scoffed.

"excuse me? i'm the one being immature right now? and yeah we are in a relationship, kyra is my girlfriend." you confirmed with a snarl, your sisters jaw clenching.

"the hickeys on your neck the other day...that was kyra. kyra was here the night before and you picked her up for training the next day!" steph realised as suddenly then chips started to fall into place. "you lied to me, you told me you came back for that textbook but-" steph accused as you rolled your eyes.

"congratulations sherlock, you figured it out! i came back to cover up my hickey." you clapped with a sarcastic smile which only wound your sister up further. "watch the attitude. you still live under my roof!" steph cautioned making you scoff, of course she'd hold that over you.

"for how long? and why kyra? you're just being stupid!" steph laughed humorlessly as you frowned, hurt flashing briefly across your face but it was almost immediately replaced with anger.

"well lets see. none of your business, none of your business, and how am i being stupid?" you questioned, hands on hips and raising an eyebrow in the older girls direction.

"you're too young to be in a relationship, you need to focus on football and school. and i know kyra well enough that all she's going to be for you is a distraction to both of those!" steph rolled her eyes as you shook your head in disbelief.

"i am twenty one years old steph, you were sleeping around long before that, at least i'm just with one person!" you snarked again as your sisters face glowered and dean appeared again as she started toward you.

"okay girls. its been a big day, its late, i think we all just need the night to cool off and-" he tried to calmly intervene but you weren't finished yet.

"and you don't know kyra at all. either way you do not get to tell me who i get to date or when i get to date them steph! you're my sister, not my mum." you warned seriously, turning on heel and exiting the conversation yourself.

"don't you dare walk away from me! we are not done here." steph scoffed and hurried after you ignoring deans urging she drop it for now, your door slammed in her face and promptly locked causing her to gasp.

"you open this door right now or i swear to god!" steph ordered pounding on it with her fist and jiggling the doorknob with her other hand, mumbling under her breath. "no, fuck off stephanie." you rolled your eyes, quickly shoving some things into a bag hearing your sister gasp again.

"oh just you wait till i-" you didn't give her a chance to hear the end of her sentence, carefully swinging one leg over your open window and shimmying around, dropping to the floor and racing away.

meanwhile steph was rummaging around in the kitchen for the spare key to your door, muttering angrily and waving off deans every attempt to soothe her, even ignoring calvin who bumped his head into her leg with a whine.

"telling me to fuck off? me? she's so-ooh when i get my hands on her." steph mumbled storming back down the hall to your room as both dean and calvin followed cautiously behind, your door popping open and steph rushing inside.

a squeal sounded as she tripped over your shoes, tumbling down to the floor and groaning in pain, dean hurrying to carefully help her up as steph took in your empty room and open window and saw red.

"oh she's dead. grounded. shipped back to melbourne in a crate!" steph growled, attempting to flee and make a beeline for her car keys as dean held her back.

"steph. babe, she clearly doesn't want to do this with you right now. when has she ever run off from a conversation? or even an argument? she obviously needs space and so do you, to calm down." he urged calmly as steph melted into his touch with a deep seeded sigh.

it would have to wait until tomorrow then.

only by the time tomorrow had rolled around steph indeed was calm, cool as an ice block one might say, and as frosty as one too.

rather than seek you out for an adult conversation like she'd promised dean, steph decided it was much easier to ice you out, ignoring you all together which didn't take long for you to catch onto.

you'd driven to and spent the night at alessia's thinking if you went to kyras that would be too easy for steph to find you, having sent kyra a quick message and prompty shut your phone off so your sister couldn't call you either.

the older english girl welcomed you in and listened to you rant but then made you promise you'd try to hear steph out today, advising your sister was probably more upset at being kept in the dark about it than she was about you actually seeing kyra.

alessia was of course correct, and that was what had been picking at steph as she stewed over things in bed last night, tossing and turning and barely getting a wink of sleep as suddenly she was overthinking everything.

how long had you been sneaking around? how long was this happening under her nose in her house? how long had you been lying to her? how long was kyra lying to her? why did you feel the need not to tell her? did you not trust her? had she been that bad of a sister? no, this was on you and not on her.

forever with a calm head on her shoulders alessia's words had stuck with you regardless, and you'd shown up to training with an olive branch in the form of a coffee for your sister and a new attitude toward hearing her out.

but when she completely blanked your attempt to even greet her good morning, that resolve died as quickly as it had been born.

"steph." you'd started softly, clearing your throat as lia sent you a warm smile, stopping her conversation with your sister who refused to turn around. "steph?" you tried again, lia and beth both frowning at the girl in question who turned but bent to tie her laces, clearly ignoring you.

"but i'm immature? right." you mumbled, harshly dumping her coffee in the bin as alessia winced, watching you storm off and kyra hurry after you as steph pretended not to notice and ignored her friends attempts to work out what that was all about.

"i would have drank that, just because she got caught does not mean she needs to waste a perfectly good coffee!" vic groaned as alessia shoved her, having filled her in but sworn her to secrecy not wanting to upset you or steph any further.

but steph was hardly subtle in the way she was clearly speaking about you to beth during warm ups, the blondes eyes darting toward you and kyra who'd paired up every few seconds which you hadn't missed.

"jesus!" kyra grunted as you grew tired of the fleeting glances and kicked the ball extra hard without watching, sending it sailing right into your girlfriends stomach who bent over winded with a wheeze.

"shit, i'm so sorry ky!" you hurried to her side with wide eyes, grabbing a water bottle alessia offered and handing it to the brunette who nodded with a grimace of pain, mumbling it was fine in between mouthfuls of water as she caught her breath.

catching the slight smirk on your sisters face at what had happened you shot to your feet, intending to march on over there and slap it off but someone grabbed the collar of your shirt before you could so much as take a step.

"nope, no catley brawl in the middle of training." caitlin shook her head, grip on your top tightening as you struggled to pull away but gave up with a defeated huff.

"kyra, finish warm ups with katie. you, come with me." caitlin ordered, dragging you away as you heard katie already start to tease kyra for the way she stared after you like a lost puppy.

meanwhile the smirk was wiped off stephs face but not in the way you wanted, instead she felt a strange feeling settle in her stomach at the way you'd sought out caitlin and were clearly confiding in her.

exactly the way you'd obviously told her about you and kyra before your own sister.

it was that resentment bubbling beneath the surface that perhaps the older girl should have known well enough to set aside and focus on football instead.

and it was that resentment that caused her to take you down perhaps a little too hard in the cool down game awhile later, the ball already gone from your possession when your sister slid into you, taking your legs out and sending you thumping to the ground.

you wheezed in pain, the wind knocked completely out of you by the unexpected tackle, squeezing your eyes shut and taking short sharp breaths as pain shot through your sides.

you heard some of the girls crowd around to check in, waving them off and grabbing leahs hand who pulled you up into a seated position. "i'm fine i'm fine, just winded." you brushed off the physio who hovered nearby.

"ankle? knee? no pain?" kyra squatted beside you with a concerned frown as you shook your head, the whistles blown to end the mornings session. "promise?" your girlfriend pushed as you nodded and mumbled the word back.

you didn't know if your sister would apologise, but you didn't give her a chance to either way as stina helped you to your feet and you took off inside, leaving both kyra and steph behind you.

you frowned as you entered the empty gym, your girlfriend having texted you to meet in here before the afternoon session to help her with something.

"kyra? ky?" you called out, hunting about but finding no sign of the midfielder. "she's so weird." you huffed, turning around to leave and screaming as suddenly there she was stood right behind you.

"gotcha!" the brunette grinned victoriously as you clutched your chest. "not funny cooney-cross." you warned catching your breath, heart pounding a million miles an hour.

"you always tell me i'm too loud, but i think i just proved i can be very very sneaky." kyra wiggled her eyebrows as you rolled your eyes. "is that seriously why you made me cut my lunch break early?" you sighed, unimpressed if a jump scare was all you were going to get out of this.

"no. i need your help stretching out my back before gym, please?" kyra asked hopefully, hands clasped together and slight pout on her lips. "you do realize there is an entire floor of physios who could do that right?" you couldn't help but smile.

"yeah...but i'd rather have your hands on me. i've barely seen you all day!" kyra groaned softly. "well whose fault is that!" you poked her accusingly as she smiled guiltily.

"okay its hard to train with stephs eyes shooting lasers at me every second, and thats when i'm not near you!" kyra admitted as you rolled your eyes but took her hands in yours. "where are we going?" your girlfriend asked as you begin to tug her away.

"somewhere stephs laser eyes can't hurt you." you mocked pouting at her as she huffed and bumped her shoulder into yours. "oh how romantic, you've put us both back in the closet." kyra teased as you pulled her into one of the equipment closets.

"are you going to make jokes or are you going to kiss me?" you asked boldly, raising an eyebrow as kyra made a point to snap her mouth shut and tug you closer, pressing her lips to yours without a seconds hesitation.

"-i said i don't want to talk about it caitlin." steph shut down her national teammate with a sigh, the forward trying to press her to talk about everything sensing bottling it up was only making things worse for the both of you.

"steph. you're hurt and you're upset that she didn't tell you, i understand that really. but so is she and avoiding her isn't going to make that go away, it'll get worse!" caitlin warned as steph hummed, rifling through the small stack of papers for her afternoon program.

"just think it over." caitlin gave in, squeezing her teammates shoulder and grabbing her program steph held out for her without another word, the rest of the team all slowly filing in.

now if you and kyra were maybe a little smarter, you might have kept track of time, or chose a less obvious hiding place for your little 'catch up', more specifically not hid out in the closet where the mats and rollers were kept, the mats and rollers that all the girls needed for their warm ups.

which is why one moment you were whispering something, lips pressed against kyras and soft giggles filling the air, and the next you were flat on your back with kyra laid out beside you, four concerned faces staring down at you.

"i didn't think it needed to be said but new rule, no making out in the equipment closet!" kim warned sternly, both you and kyra's faces blushing bright red as you hurried to your feet and she did the same, both of you drowned in the teasings of your teammates shortly after.

you caught your sisters eye as you grabbed your program, her jaw set and eyes piercing into yours you felt a wave of shame roll over you at her judgement, bowing your head and hurrying as far away from her as you could get.

"harsh." beth stated bluntly, knocking her shoulder into her best friends who blinked and glanced over to her, rolling out her hamstring. "thats unprofessional, she should know better." steph mumbled with a roll of her eyes.

"she's twenty one steph, and she's in loove." beth teased, quickly shut down by the sharp glare sent her way by your sister. "don't. she's an idiot, they both are." steph muttered, moving to roll out her back, watching as you arose from your own matt and followed after lotte to start your program.

"steph, she's a kid. kids make mistakes, should she have told you about the two of them? maybe. and when i say this i mean it with love-" beth started, steph averting her eyes toward the blonde and raising an eyebrow.

"-but doesn't your reaction also maybe explain why she held off?" beth smiled sympathetically as steph only sighed, ignoring the question as beth chose to let her sit with it, quickly changing topics.

and sit with it she did, not surprised when she returned home from training to an empty house despite the fact you'd left before her. though given calvin was nowhere to be found and your training bag was sat at your door, you'd clearly been and gone.

"boo!" steph let out a yell and spun around, hitting her fiance a few times who laughed and shielded himself. "alright alright! cool it karate catley." dean grinned as steph huffed, setting down her bag and shooting him one last glare.

"i see our mood hasn't improved. so you didn't talk to her then?" he asked, taking a seat at the counter as steph sighed, grabbing out a few things to make herself some food. "ugh she always does this!" your sister groaned, moving to take out the empty milk from the fridge.

"just further proves her immaturity." steph mumbled, tossing it away into the recycling and fixing her fiance with a glare as he chuckled. "something funny?" she challenged, the man still grinning.

"you do know its me who does that right?" dean advised as steph frowned.

"what? but she always says-" "once, she covered for me once. and you just assumed from then on that its been her!" "but why would she-" "do you remember when we had that argument? after i'd gone out for...a big night." dean winced at the memory as steph hummed in acknowledgement.

"well i drunkenly ate five bowls of cereal and left the milk empty in the fridge. we argued that next morning, you were angry with me and you grabbed out the milk for your coffee and it was empty and-"

"-and she took the blame so we wouldn't argue even more." steph realised with a sigh, drumming her fingers against the counter top. "bingo." dean clicked, leaning over and apologetically kissing her, promising he would no longer leave the milk there.

"then that same morning she went out and got me a coffee, took calvin for a walk and brought home flowers...which she said were from you." steph narrowed her eyes as her fiance winced and smiled sheepishly.

"what else has she taken the blame for or done for me that you took the credit for?" your sister gasped as dean grinned. "we're getting off track here. does this not maybe prove she's a bit more mature than you give her credit for?" dean pointed out, conveniently switching topics.

"covering for you being a grub hardly proves she's mature enough to balance school, football and a relationship." steph sighed, chopping up some fruit to make a smoothie. "but babe, technically she's already been doing that." dean pushed gently as steph paused, frown creeping into her features.

"has she failed a test?" "no." "handed in an assignment late?" "no." "seemed less sharp at football?" "no." "has she been playing poorly?" "no." "well..."

"yeah alright, i get your point." steph grumbled, pausing to massage her temples where she could feel a headache building. "talk to her steph. she's your sister she loves you, and even if she didn't tell you about her and kyra you know your approval means the world to her, she's always looked up to you." dean encouraged softly, standing and rounding the corner, steph melting into a warm hug.

"it really hurts i was one of the last to find out, i thought we were closer than that." steph mumbled into her fiances shoulder. "you are. maybe she didn't tell you because she was more worried about your reaction than other peoples, because it means more to her than anyone elses." dean offered as steph huffed.

"stop being right would you, its a very annoying switch up."

steph sighed and raised her hand, knocking on the door and taking a step back, arms crossed over her chest.

"oh! hi steph!" teyah made a point to say her name louder than needed making the australian chuckle. "you can relax with the warnings teyah, i just want to speak with kyra." steph spoke calmly, the blonde nodding and stepping aside.

"were you hiding behind the door?" steph raised an eyebrow as kyra instantly appeared, cheeks flushed bright red. "maybe." the younger girl mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

"i meant it, i just want to talk kyra." steph promised, the midfielder nodding in understanding as the older girl rolled her eyes. "are you going to let me in or are we going to stand here and chat with your neighbors too?" steph mocked as kyra stepped aside and allowed her in.

teyah caught kyras pleading gaze and made herself scarce, ignoring the girls silent begging not to leave her alone with steph who took a seat on the lounge, watching kyra squirm uncomfortably as the silence grew until she couldn't take it anymore.

"steph i'm so so so sorry we didn't tell you we were just worried about how you'd react and i wanted to leave the decision up to her since you're her family and i also didn't want to mess things up with you as well as her by jumping the gun and telling you first or pressuring her to tell you which hasn't worked because you're mad at me anyway but i really don't want to break up with her because i love her but i also love you but more like a sister even though thats weird because im dating your sister and-" kyra rambled out all in one breath, not pausing even for a second.

"kyra." she however fell silent at the single word, chest heaving slightly. "shut up and breathe." steph instructed as the midfielder exhaled shakily with a nod.

"how long have the two of you been together? don't lie to me." steph asked calmly, though her eyes warned the younger girl off of any dishonesty. "its complicated." kyra shifted with a frown.

"well, uncomplicate it." steph settled backward into the lounge more, crossing one leg over the other. "well we figured out we had feelings for one another awhile before we started dating, but with me in sweden and her in england we never had the time to give it a go-" kyra started with a sigh, steph nodding curtly for her to go on.

"then when the camp for the world cup rolled around and i let her know i'd be leaving sweden and trying to make a move over here, things changed, and we decided to try officially dating a few days before the tournament started." kyra explained, trying her best to untangle a rather twisted timeline.

"so you've been together for nearly six months." steph's voice was emotionless but kyra could see the thoughts swirling through her eyes and grimaced. "a little over five but...yeah." kyra mumbled, fiddling with her hands which sat in her lap.

so far this was easily the most serious conversation the two had ever had, and it was suffocating the younger girl.

"school. university is really important to her, and to me." steph stated, kyra opening and closing her mouth for a moment. "wait here." with that said the midfielder was up and darting off, steph watching her disappear with a confused frown.

though she returned not even a minute later, calendar and a small bag in hand which she promptly dumped in stephs lap, cautiously taking a seat closer to her than she was before.

"whats all this?" steph questioned not any less confused at the items in her lap. "well as we know im not really...an organised person." kyra sighed. "understatement of the century." steph mumbled, eyes raking over the pages in front of her.

"right. well i might not have a calendar for my every day life, my agent handles that." the midfielder blushed as steph rolled her eyes. "but i do have one for your sister. i know school is important to her and i don't want to get in the way of that steph, i promise." her tone softened as she grabbed the bag.

"i have all these coloured stickers and tabs-" she pulled open the drawstring and showed steph the inside who nodded slowly. "well they all mean different things, this is the key-" she pulled out a piece of card from inside the bag and handed it to steph.

"the blue tabs are days she has exams, the orange tabs are days she needs to study, the red tabs are days i can't interrupt her studying, normally a few days before her exams-" kyras finger moved across the key as steph nodded wordlessly.

"the yellow tabs are days where i need to force her to take a break so she doesn't burn out, and those aren't always days she has to spend with me either. the gold stars are days where her assignments are due, the footballs are game days, the kangaroos and international break and the little flowers are days off." kyra flicked through month after month, pointing out each sticker to steph who admittedly was still speechless.

"you can't even remember your boots on game day...but you keep track of her entire schedule?" the older girl eventually questioned, moving the calendar and bag onto the coffee table and turning to face a bright red kyra who shyly nodded.

"i-i love your sister steph. she runs rings around me and she has so much potential and drive and commitment, i don't want to ever hold her back. i know you might not think i'm good enough for her or smart enough or that im too immature or annoying but i really really care about her. she was my best friend before she was my girlfriend, i've always cared and i wouldn't dream of ever hurting her." kyra bounced her knee nervously as she spoke, feeling frightfully vulnerable and out of her comfort zone with this conversation.

"i know you care about her, and this just proves that." steph sighed deeply, nodding to the calendar. "its not that i don't think you're good enough for her kyra, and your intelligence has nothing to do with it. thats my baby sister, no one will ever be good enough for her." steph promised seriously as kyra nodded quickly.

"but it hurts that neither of you felt like you could come and speak with me about this. though you're not the one i need to have that conversation with-" steph exhaled, dragging her hands down her face and suddenly standing.

kyra followed suit, tracking after her back to the front door as steph pulled it open and hovered in the doorway. "i know you care about her kyra, i do. and you're both adults as hard as it is for me to admit that, and as much as you don't often act like one." kyra cracked a tiny smile at that.

"you don't need my permission or my approval, but you do have it-" steph assured softly as kyra breathed a long overdue sigh of relief, though that died in her throat as steph grabbed a fistful of her hoodie and tugged her closer.

"but if you ever and i mean ever hurt her kyra, you will pay for it. i will make your life a living hell and you will never speak to, look at or breathe near her again. got it?" steph warned seriously as kyra nodded hurriedly, the older girl smiling happily at the fear on her face.

"good, i'm glad we had this talk." steph let go, smoothing out her hoodie and squeezing kyra's shoulder with a nod. "see you at training tomorrow." steph turned to leave, kyra's head popping out of the door.

"i can call her to see where-" "no it's okay, i know exactly where she is."

"oh and kyra?" steph turned one final time, catching the younger girls eye. "if i catch the two of you making out in a closet again, i will snap your ankle."

sure enough, you were exactly where steph thought you would be.

not far from her house in st albans there was a huge park that you often took calvin to when you wanted to read in the sun, the pair of you would curl up on a blanket and it never ceased to amaze steph just how calm the normally hyperactive pooch became when you needed him to be, dean teasing you were some sort of dog whisperer.

just as your sister thought you were laid down on a blanket, but there wasn't a book in your hands and the very moment calvin laid eyes on his mum he bolted, almost taking your hand off which was wrapped around his lead.

but knowing all too well he only went haywire like this for one person you let go with a sigh, closing your eyes and making no move to acknowledge the older girl when you felt her sit down beside you.

you grunted as calvin laid himself down, head flopping down onto your stomach as his bottom half curled up into steph who'd also laid down on the blanket, an uncomfortably tense silence between the pair of you.

"sorry for the poor tackle today." your sister broke it first, only getting a quiet hum from you in reply as she sighed, thinking carefully about her next words before speaking them.

"why didn't you tell me?" but of course that all went out the window as her curiosity burned forth, clouded by the hurt that came with the reveal.

"you cannot seriously be asking me that steph?" you scoffed, glancing to her and looking away with a roll of your eyes. "look at your reaction, why do you think i didn't tell you." you mumbled, crossing your arms and glaring up at the sky above.

"okay...fair." your sister sighed, a frown thrown her way by you surprised at the small admission of guilt. "i only lashed out because i was hurt that you didn't come to me first. you've never kept secrets from me before, at least not huge ones like this." the older girl confessed, pausing to give you a chance to think it over.

"i was worried you'd freak out, which you did. you always treat me like a baby and i'm not anymore steph, i'm old enough to make my own decisions and if those decisions have consequences then they are mine to deal with." you warned, adjusting your position slightly.

"again, that's fair." your sister agreed once more to your surprise. "you're being suspiciously agreeable." you mumbled, steph reaching over to shove you lightly, a slight smile on her lips.

"it may have been already pointed out to me that the way i handled this only made you not telling me more valid." steph admitted, a slightly more comfortable silence falling between the two of you for a few moments as you sat with your own thoughts.

"i spoke to kyra." "i know, she called me panicking the moment she saw you pull up in the car park." you chuckled lightly, shielding your face with your hands as the clouds parted and the sun shone down.

"i talked her out of jumping out of her window before you got there though." "she is...something else."

"but, you're happy. right?" steph sat up a little more and looked down with a frown of concern. "yeah i am. i know kyra can be a pest but when its just the two of us its different, i love her and she loves me and she would never treat me poorly or ever get in the way of football or school or anything." you followed her lead and sat up, grabbing the tennis ball from beside you and tossing it for calvin as he sprinted off.

"oh i know, i saw her little calendar." steph smiled wider as you frowned. "what calendar?" you questioned, confused as your sister raised an eyebrow. "i'll let her explain that, ask her about it." the older girl chuckled.

"maybe at dinner, at our place tomorrow." steph extended the final olive branch as you paused for a minute to think it over. "you won't be really weird about it? make her uncomfortable?" you questioned a little hesitantly.

"i will be your older sister who will never think anyones good enough for you, that your girlfriend should be at least a little scared of." steph smiled honestly as you rolled your eyes.

"she's already terrified of you." "a wise choice. this might work out in my favor, she can annoy you instead of me." your sister grinned, poking you and whistling for calvin to come back as he was making some new friends.

"oh no we'll just both team up to annoy you now stephanie." you returned her grin as she groaned and grabbed calvins lead, clipping it onto his collar as you both made your way to your feet ready to head back home.

"hey. if you're happy then i would never stand in the way of that, as your sister all i ever want is you to be with someone who cares about you and though kyra might not have been my first choice, it isn't up to me anyway. you're right you are an adult, and maybe i need to work a little more on treating you like one." steph admitted, surprised as you stepped forward and hugged her tightly.

"well this is nice." your sister exhaled, cradling your head just like she would when you were much younger. "i'm sorry i waited so long to tell you, i didn't mean to upset you." you admitted into her shoulder. "i know, i can tell when you mean to upset me." the girl teased making you smile as you pulled away, grabbing the blanket and tucking it into the tote on your shoulder, the pair of you walking side by side.

"does you treating me like an adult mean you'll finally stop calling me peanut?" "oh absolutely not, you'll always be my little peanut no matter how old you get." "just when i thought we were having a nice moment." "hey embarrassing you is my right as your older sister, you never get to take that away from me."

#woso #woso community #kyra cooney cross x reader #kyra cooney cross #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #steph catley x reader #steph catley #awfc x reader

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estellan0vella · 1 day

Text

Shut Up, Mom! ❀ includes: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Toji & Sukuna (REQUESTED) Masterlist

You stand firm in the kitchen, arms crossed, after denying your child's request for more sweets. Gojo lounges casually nearby, a faint smile playing on his lips. Your little one, clearly frustrated, looks up at you and blurts out, "Shut up, Mom!"

The air grows tense instantly. Gojo's blue eyes narrow, the usually playful glint gone in a flash. He straightens, walking over to kneel beside your child, his expression serious yet calm. "Hey, we don't talk to Mom like that," he says, his voice low but firm. He gently cups your child's cheek, his touch a blend of sternness and care. "Mom loves you and makes rules to keep you from getting sick. Apologize to her."

Your child glances between you and Gojo, recognizing the gravity in his usually lighthearted father's eyes. "I'm sorry, Mom," they mumble, looking down.

Gojo's smile returns, a bit softer now. He ruffles their hair. "Good. Now, how about we find something else fun to do together?"

In the living room, you're putting away toys when your child whines for more TV time. When you deny the request, they stomp their foot and shout, "Shut up, Mom!"

Geto, who has been quietly reading on the couch, lowers his book, his usually calm demeanor shifting to one of quiet authority. He stands, approaching your child with a measured stride. "We don't speak to Mom like that," he says softly, yet his voice carries a weight that demands respect. He kneels to meet their eye level. "Why did you say that?"

Your child looks guilty, fidgeting under Geto's steady gaze. "I was mad."

Geto nods, his expression softening slightly. "I understand being mad, but words have power. Use them to express your feelings, not to hurt others. Apologize to Mom."

With a small nod, your child turns to you. "Sorry, Mom."

Geto smiles, patting their shoulder. "Good. Now, let's find a way to enjoy the rest of our day without TV."

You're in the study, helping your child with their homework when they throw down their pencil in frustration. "Shut up, Mom!" they snap when you suggest they redo a wrong answer.

Nanami, who had just walked in with a cup of tea for you, freezes. His jaw tightens, and he places the cup on the desk with deliberate calmness. He steps over, placing a hand on your child's shoulder. "We do not speak to Mom that way," he says, his tone firm but not loud. "She is here to help you."

Your child looks up at him, eyes wide. "But it's hard!"

Nanami nods, his expression softening but remaining serious. "I know it's hard, but being disrespectful doesn't make it easier. Apologize to Mom and let's try again together."

Your child sighs, looking down. "I'm sorry, Mom."

Nanami gives you a small, reassuring smile before turning back to your child. "Good. Now, let's tackle this problem together, step by step."

In the middle of a family game night, you deny your child an extra turn, trying to teach fairness. They scowl and shout, "Shut up, Mom!"

Choso, who has been arranging the next round of pieces, looks up sharply. His eyes, usually so gentle, darken with concern. He sets the pieces down and moves closer, crouching beside your child. "That's not how we talk to Mom," he says, his voice calm but with an edge of disappointment. "Mom is being fair."

Your child pouts, crossing their arms. "It's not fair!"

Choso sighs, placing a hand on their small shoulder. "Life isn't always fair, but respect is important. Apologize to Mom and let's continue our game with kindness."

Your child hesitates, then mumbles, "Sorry, Mom."

Choso smiles softly, nodding. "Thank you. Now, let's see if we can make the game more fun for everyone."

During a meal, you tell your child they can't have dessert until they finish their vegetables. They glare at you and shout, "Shut up, Mom!"

Sukuna, who has been eating quietly, pauses mid-bite. His eyes flash dangerously, and he slowly puts down his utensils. Rising from his seat, he moves with a predatory grace to stand beside your child. "What did you just say?" he asks, his voice low and menacing.

Your child shrinks back, suddenly aware of the gravity of their outburst. "I... I said shut up..."

Sukuna leans down, his presence overwhelming. "You will not speak to your mother that way," he growls. "She deserves your respect. Apologize. Now."

Trembling, your child looks up at you. "I'm sorry, Mom."

Sukuna straightens, his intense gaze still fixed on them. "Good. Now, eat your vegetables. Or I eat your toes"

"Ryo!"

You deny your child's request to stay up late, and they respond with a defiant, "Shut up, Mom!"

Toji, who has been leaning against the doorframe, straightens immediately. His expression hardens, and he walks over, his steps heavy with purpose. Kneeling down, he looks your child directly in the eye, his voice a low rumble. "We don't talk to Mom like that. Ever."

Your child squirms under his intense gaze. "But I want to stay up!"

Toji shakes his head, his tone leaving no room for argument. "That doesn't matter. Respect is non-negotiable. Apologize to Mom right now."

Your child glances at you, then back at Toji, clearly chastened. "Sorry, Mom."

Toji's expression softens slightly, and he ruffles their hair. "Good. Now let's get ready for bed. No arguments."

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sceletaflores · 22 hours

Note

Being a professional masseur for players and taking care of our boy art.

Hes just so sad and so pretty that you just giving head to make him feel better 😔

Plot twist: he falls in love with you because duh? Hot+sex=you being promoted pookie, you are now the donaldsons elite employes!!!!!!

Baby, show me where it hurts...

pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: you never intended on becoming a "celebrity" massage therapist. you just wanted to be a massage therapist, the whole celebrity thing just sort of happened, you blame cali for that. but the novelty of your job wore off long ago, you hardly blink at the clients on your table nowadays. that is until tashi duncan calls you and absolutely fucks everything up.

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, oral (m!receiving), oral (fem!receiving), p in v, fingering (fem!receiving), angst? maybe? could this be considered angst?, slight age gap, no tashi duncan erasure because i don't stand for that, cheating but not really cause tashi knows, she always knows, she is an all seeing eye, and she kind of orchestrates it, SOOOOO much plot, like way too much i'm sorry, art being sad and tired, art also being kinda pathetic a little bit, malpractice? unprofessional massages, no use of y/n.

word count: 10k+ (someone stop me....pls still read this lmao)

authors note: this ask was blessedly placed in my inbox and it was all i’ve thought about since. this is my first big fic since my mike schmidt days so hopefully i'm not rusty! i've seen this damn cursed hell movie ten times, so hopefully i do it justice. i'm also still struggling sooo much with art and tashi as characters so please bear with me if they aren't movie accurate i'm trying my best. okay. thank you. hope you love it! mwah xoxo.

You don't get starstruck often, not anymore at least. The clients that find their way onto your table are just that in your eyes, clients. You don't see them as big time "celebrities”. Just men and women who need your professional help.

That being said, you almost dropped your phone the first time the Tashi Duncan called you.

It was a normal work day for you, spent buried in paperwork and training a new secretary. You're folding the steam room towels on your lunch break when your phone rings. No caller ID, you answer it anyways.

"Hello, you've reached Lush Retreat Med Spa," you rattle off into your phone, placing it between your ear and shoulder to continue folding. "How can we help you?"

"This is Tashi Duncan calling for Art Donaldson, we've heard great things about you and were hoping to schedule an appointment."

The towel drops from your hands, your mouth falling open in shock. You reach up to tightly grip your phone, not wanting to embarrass yourself by dropping your phone with Tashi fucking Duncan on the end of the line.

Of course you know who she is, but doesn't everyone? The tennis prodigy from Stanford who was on top of the world when a tragic knee injury stole everything from her in a single second. You absolutely idolized her when you were in high school and playing tennis competitively. You watched all the recorded matches you could get your hands on, wore your DUNCANATOR shirts to practice constantly, only bought the tennis rackets she used. You had her fucking posters plastered on the walls of your old bedroom for Christ's sake.

That was until you, ironically, shattered your wrist in a car accident and had to hang up the racket and pleated skirts forever. Just like her.

Now, Tashi Duncan and Art Donaldson are California royalty. An unfairly beautiful couple living what seems to be the dream. You'd never kept up much with Art's career like you did Tashi's, but you follow them both on Instagram and you see his face on billboards all over the city almost daily so you can assume it was fruitful. It may help him that he's extremely easy on the eyes, or "super fucking hot!" in your coworkers words.

"Hello?" Her voice ringing out from the tiny speaker ripped you out of your thoughts and back into reality.

"Y-yes, sorry," you cringe internally at yourself, stuttering over your words like a loser. You force yourself to sound professional when you speak again, "We'd love to help you any way we can. Do you have a certain time and date in mind already?"

"We're not home right now, we were thinking next Thursday. Around four." There's no question mark on the end of her sentence, you know that she isn't asking you, she's telling you. You don't even bother to check the schedule before you're answering.

"We will be free that day. I'll go ahead and put you in our system." you rush over to the front desk computer and open the calendar, thankfully you are actually free for Thursday. "I'm assuming you know our location?" you ask as you type in the appointment details, ignoring how your fingers shake ever so slightly as you type Tashi into the slot.

"Actually," Tashi's voice has a different tone to it when she speaks again, it’s something you can’t quite place, your fingers slow down slightly as you listen, "we wanted to make this a home visit."

You stop typing completely, brows furrowed in confusion as you stare at your computer screen. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Donaldson but we don't do at home appointments…per our policy." you reply meekly, almost surprised that you're denying her.

"Duncan, actually,” she corrects you nonchalantly, you don’t have time to unpack that before she’s speaking again. “We did read that on your website, but we'd hope you might make an exception. You wouldn't need to bring much. We have our own table." Her tone isn't harsh or impolite, just firm and certain, like she knows you'll give in to her.

You do.

"Well," you bite your lip as you wrestle internally with yourself, torn between what you want to do and what you should do. "Okay, we can do that for you."

"Great. I'll send you the address. See you then." She hangs up without saying goodbye.

You plant your phone next to you and stare at the filled out appointment slot taking up your computer screen, processing what just happened. You're going to Tashi Duncan's house. To give her hot pro-tennis player husband a massage. In their house.

"What the fuck."

SIX DAYS LATER...

The walk up to The Donaldson's huge mansion on a mountain has your stomach turning in on itself. All week you were a ball of nervous energy just floating around your office, trying to find anything to distract you from your upcoming appointment. Now that it's here, you feel you may have bitten off more than you could chew.

You hardly got any sleep last night, tossing and turning in your bed for hours before you gave up, barging into your building's gym to try and sweat your nerves out. When that didn't work you just retreated back to your apartment and got ready.

You try not to think about why it took you so long to get ready, longer than most work mornings. Taking more time in the shower, more time doing your hair, more time doing your makeup.

You even choose an outfit you'd hardly ever wear in front of regular clientele. A matching white polo set, a skirt in place of shorts. You tell yourself that you just want to look good, who wants to look like a mess in front of Tashi Duncan?

Your hands white-knuckle the steering wheel of your car on the drive over. You couldn’t even play any music, the noise in your head already too loud as it was, only cranking up the AC and silently following the crisp voice of your GPS reading off the directions Tashi sent you.

The closer you get to the door the more you want to turn and run down the insanely long driveway, get back in your car and haul ass home without ever looking back.

You don't because you're a professional, or at least that's what you keep telling yourself.

Your hand shakes as you ring their doorbell, hearing it echo back at you from the inside. You only wait a few seconds before the large door swings open and there she is.

Tashi Duncan is every bit as beautiful in person as she is splashed across the pages of magazines and blown up twenty feet on billboards. She looks so effortlessly classy in her Ralph Lauren sweater and flowy black dress pants.

Your name falls from her lips, and all the blood rushes to your ears. Her silky voice wraps around each syllable with an enticing heat that makes you weak in the knees. You feel sixteen years old all over again, standing at the woman who basically molded you into who you are today. It's a dizzying sensation, the rush of nostalgia and emotions flooding in like an avalanche. The memories you have locked away in your brain of the countless late night practices, the hundreds of hours spent on the court, the trophies and ribbons littering your moms basement collecting dust, the refusal to give up and pushing your body past its own limits because you wanted to be just like her. You wanted to be Tashi Duncan, and when you catch yourself nervously rubbing your thumb over the scar spanning your right wrist, you guess in some sick twisted way that you kind of are.

"So glad you could make it," she greets breezily, stepping to the side to let you in. “We were worried you’d get lost.”

The house is, of course, beautiful on the inside. Tall ceilings, big fireplace, a beautiful staircase leading to the second floor. There’s toys strewn messily along the living room floor, the TV mounted on the wall is paused on ESPN.

You hope you don’t look as crazy as you feel taking in the space, taking in the fact that Tashi is standing right in front of you.

“No, the directions were very helpful,” your voice only slightly wavers as you respond, you count that as a win, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Donalds–uh–Duncan.” You cringe at your fumble, but try to power through by extending Tashi your hand.

She watches you for a second, sharp eyes flicking over your body quickly like she’s inspecting you. It makes your cheeks feel warm as you struggle to not squirm underneath her gaze. Finally, she takes your hand in hers and gives it a firm shake. You ignore the way her touch makes your palm burn.

“Art should already be in the massage room, it’s in the pool house,” Tashi says, gesturing to the huge windows in the living room showing off a lavish underground pool with a smaller building situated next to it, “I have to take a phone call here in a few minutes so I trust you’ll find your way there.”

You nod slowly, adjusting the strap of your supply bag on your shoulder. Tashi doesn't even pause walking further into the house as she speaks to you, heels clicking with each step as she makes her way to the large staircase in the middle of the room. There’s still no question marks tacked on to the end of her sentences, just like over the phone.

“It’s just through that door, first room on the left. I told him to leave the door open for you.” She continues, reaching the stairs and making her way up slowly. She tosses her head over her shoulder to make eye contact with you again. “He’s been complaining about his shoulder acting up. The right one, it’s what needs the most attention. He serves with that arm, we need it at a hundred.” she fires off casually, like she’s recited this information before.

You go to speak but her phone ringing cuts you off, echoing off the house's crisp white walls. “Thank you for coming to see us, it was nice meeting you.” Tashi says politely, giving you one final once over before she’s answering her phone and disappearing up the stairs.

“It was nice meeting you too…” you trail off quietly, fully caught off guard by whatever the hell that was. Out of every single time you’d fantasized about what meeting Tashi Duncan would be like, none of them were quite like this. At least it’s over you figure, and you even managed to not make a complete fool of yourself.

You hold onto that tiny win as you walk through the living room doors and outside, making your way to the pool house like Tashi instructed. The entrance is unlocked as you step inside, thankfully you spot the cracked door a little ways in front of you.

The sound of your footsteps are loud as you make your way down the short hallway, tennis shoes making small thump sounds against the concrete floor. You pause for just a second outside the cracked door, taking a deep breath before pushing it open and stepping inside. The room is empty, the only things inside are some shelves lined with various essential oils and lotions, and an expensive looking massage table in the center. You muse over the fact that their table looks a little better than the ones in your own spa, no wonder they wanted a home visit.

The room is well lit as you walk around, dim in a way that promotes relaxation. The soft, ambient lighting bathes the room in a gentle, golden glow, complemented by the flicker of aromatic candles placed strategically around the space. You wonder who lit them, Tashi? Or maybe Art? You let out a small laugh at the idea of Tashi Duncan and Art Donaldson fawning over the room before you showed up, setting up candles and mood lighting to make it feel nicer, less clinical.

You’re probably just reading too much into it. You always urge clients to ask for anything that will make them feel more comfortable, apparently Art just likes eucalyptus sage candles and mood lighting. It has nothing to do with you.

Your name being said from somewhere behind you rips you out of your own mind. You whirl around, and find yourself face to face with six time Grand Slam Champion, Tashi Duncan’s super hot husband, Art Donaldson. And he’s only wearing a fucking towel.

“Hello,” he greets with a kind smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “it’s nice to finally meet you, thank you so much for taking the time to come out here.”

Art is already worlds different from Tashi, or that’s what you’re inferring after spending less than five minutes with each of them. It’s still extremely apparent, Tashi has an almost overpowering presence to her, everything about her commands respect and she knows that. She uses that to her advantage, she likes it like that.

The man standing in front of you is nothing like that. The Art Donaldson in front of you doesn’t seem like some big shot tennis player with more impressive stats than you could wrap your head around. You’ve come to know that a few pro-sports guys like to swing their dicks around, bragging about their booming careers non-stop during a session. Yet everything about Art is unassuming as he stands in the doorway like he’s trying to make himself look smaller.

“Hi, Mr. Donaldson,” you’re not sure if it's appropriate to offer a man wearing a towel dangerously low on his hips your hand, you decide against it. “It’s no trouble really, I’m happy to help.”

“Please, call me Art.” The tone of his voice makes you want to shiver, smooth and warm like honey.

You try your best not to stare, but it’s so hard to ignore the toned expanse of Art’s body when it’s right there. He’s all broad shoulders, firm pecs, sculpted legs, with a cut Adonis belt. He’s like a marble statue, made in Michelangelo's perfect image.

Your eyes trail back up his body, lingering on his chest before rising up to his face. You’re mortified to see he’s staring right back at you, effectively catching you in the act. Your cheeks burn as you tear your gaze away, looking at anything and everything other than him. In your panic, you don’t notice the way his eyes rake over you in the same way.

“Okay, Art,” you say a little breathlessly, tightening your grip on the strap of your bag. “It’s nice to meet you. Mrs. Duncan let me know about your major problem areas, I’ll be sure to focus on them.” Involuntarily bringing up Tashi has your stomach clenching up in guilt, you just got done ogling her husband's body. You hope he takes the silent cue you're giving him to get on the damn table so you can start the massage and get the hell out of here.

Art nods silently, walking over to the table and moving to lie down on his stomach. You busy yourself with prepping your oils, taking them out of your bag and setting them on a small side table next to the massage bed uncapped for easy access. You can’t help but sneak glances at the rippling muscle of Art’s back as he shifts, his skin looks soft and is littered with freckles. You don’t miss the hiss he lets out when he lays his weight on his shoulder.

You usually don’t speak much during appointments, only engaging in conversation when your client initiates it, but you feel the need to fill the silence between you and Art. The quiet atmosphere makes everything seem far too intimate, and sure on some level it always is, but this feels different.

“How’d you hurt it? Your shoulder. If you don’t mind me asking.” you ask once he’s settled, placing your fingertips to the middle of his right shoulder, feeling around for any tension. Art tenses slightly at your touch, taking a sharp breath. You guess you should have warned him, you open your mouth to apologize but he lets out a small breath and relaxes onto the table again.

Art sighs, his voice tinged with weariness. "It was, uh, during a match. I overextended trying to return a serve. Haven't been able to move it properly since."

You nod, hands starting to move in slow, deliberate circles across the muscle. “That sounds about right. Most people don’t realize how brutal tennis is to the body, injuries are common,” you pointedly try to ignore the flashbacks of your wrist failing to swing a racket properly after you healed from your accident, flashbacks of watching as the bone pierced through your skin. “Sounds like you might need to take it easy for a while.” you continue, trying to keep the conversation light.

Art chuckled, though it was devoid of real humor. "Yeah, I’ve been playing a lot lately. Guess I pushed myself too hard." He winces slightly as you work on a particularly tight knot, shoulder tensing under your hands.

You pause, your hands stilling momentarily as you catch the underlying tension in Art's voice. "The season’s almost over, maybe it's time to give yourself a break, take some time to rest and recuperate." you remark softly, your tone gentle yet concerned.

Art's gaze flickers to yours, a flicker of vulnerability shining through. "I wish I could," he admits, his voice heavy, "But it's hard to step away, especially when it feels like it's all I have that’s still keeping everything together."

Your heart clenches at the raw honesty in his words. He’s completely silent afterwards, you wonder if he’s regretting telling you something like that, like maybe it just fell out of his mouth before he could stop it. Without a word, you continue to knead away the tension in his muscles, offering a silent gesture of support.

As you continue to work, hands skillfully moving over Art’s shoulder, you can’t help but notice the weariness in Art's demeanor. His presence feels heavy, almost broken, as if the physical pain was just a small part of what he was carrying. You feel a pang of sympathy for him. You can feel the weight of struggles pressing down on him, the way his shoulders sag slightly even under your careful touch.

“I can feel the tension here," you say gently, applying a little more pressure, "Just try to relax.”

With each knead and press, you remind yourself of your role. You’re here to help him heal, and that was all that mattered. But as your hands move over his warm skin, you can’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t what you had anticipated, something that made your heart race with both excitement and anxiety. You were so worried about meeting Tashi you completely forgot about Art. It’s a different story now as your hands explore the smooth planes of his back to the steady sound of his breathing.

"You're really good at this," Art says after a while, his voice a bit lighter.

You smile, a genuine one, the first real smile you’ve had since you got here. “Thanks. I’d hope so after all this time.”

Art lets out a small chuckle muffled by the table, it makes your stomach flutter. “How did you get into this? Massage therapy seems interesting.”

You laugh but it’s a bitter sound, moving your hands down to focus lower on Art’s shoulder. You try not to think about your tennis career, even after all this time you struggle with the memories despite all the good it brought you. “That’s a long story.” you mutter under your breath, even to your own ears you sound resentful.

“I’ve got time.” It’s a simple reply, but it’s so honest. Like Art’s genuinely interested in you, in getting to know you. It makes you feel dizzy.

“I, um,” you worry your lip between your teeth, working your hands harder over Art’s back. “I actually used to play tennis. When I was in high school.”

Art makes an interested noise, shifting under your hands as he moves his head to lay on the side of the table so he could look up at you. “No shit?” he looks more shocked than anything.

You nod, humming in confirmation as you finally move onto his other shoulder. “Yup, I was pretty serious about it back then, until I got injured.” You don’t meet Art’s gaze, but you can see how his face falls in your peripheral vision. You kind of want to laugh at how ironic this moment is, you wonder if Art’s thinking about Tashi’s knee. You know he was at the match, you’ve seen the blurry footage of Tashi Duncan’s fall from grace, watched Art vault over the net to get to her.

“That’s awful. I’m sorry.” He sounds like he means it.

“It’s okay, wasn't like it was my fault or anything,” you say, finally meeting his eyes with a rueful smile and raising your right wrist to show him your scar. “I got hit by a drunk driver coming home late from practice one night. Nasty fracture, bone went straight through.” You hope your voice is coming out as nonchalant as you’re trying to make it sound.

Art's eyes widen in disbelief as he takes in your scar, a mixture of shock and sympathy evident on his face. "Wow, that's...terrible," he murmurs, his voice tinged with compassion.

You shrug, the memories still vivid despite the passage of time. "It was tough, it was awful actually. All the physical therapy in the world couldn’t get a racket back in my hand,” you confess softly, fingers tracing the outline of the scar absentmindedly again. “But it also forced me to reevaluate things, in a way. It made me realize that life doesn't always go according to plan.” You see Tashi’s knee buckling in your mind's eye. “When I finally realized that I could take all the hate and all the anger I was feeling and channel it into something good, something like massage therapy, I never looked back."

You immediately regret over-sharing, feeling silly telling Art your sob story, but when you meet his eye again, he has an odd look on his face. His expression is soft as he looks up at you through long lashes, understanding and empathy swimming in the blue of his eyes.

"Well, silver linings, huh?" he says after a few seconds, there’s traces of a smile playing on his lips. You let out a small laugh, nodding your head slightly.

"Yeah," you agree, a small smile on your lips. "Silver linings."

As the conversation fades into a comfortable silence, you and Art find yourselves locked in a silent exchange, your eyes meeting and holding a depth of something you can’t quite pick up on. In that moment, the world around you seems to blur, leaving only the two of you suspended in a shared moment of vulnerability. There's a subtle shift in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that has formed between you, as if you've uncovered a piece of each other.

The shrill ringing of your phone’s alarm pierces through the moment, both you and Art jump at the sudden sound. It’s like a cold bucket of water pouring over your head, washing away whatever just happened between the two of you. The session’s over, you’re done.

“Okay,” you say a little too loudly, taking your hands off Art's back like his skin could burn you any second. “Looks like we’re all done.” You try to smile but it feels fake, forced, so you turn your back to Art and start capping your oils to shove them back in your bag.

Art’s voice breaks the silence as you pack up, sounding a little less confident than it did earlier. “Uh, my neck has been bothering me too, recently,” he says offhandedly as he sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the table. “I think I may have slept on it wrong.”

You stop what you’re doing, turning to face Art again, silently cursing him for not just letting you leave. “Do you want me to take a look before I go?” You pray he says no. You should know it won’t be that easy, not with your shit luck.

“If you don’t mind?” His tone is so hopeful and his eyes are so big that your feet are walking towards him before your mind can catch up.

“Not at all,” you reply, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest. You step closer, practically between his slightly spread legs, feeling the warmth of his skin even before you touch him. Your fingers brush against his neck, and he shivers slightly, the muscles tight and knotted beneath your touch.

"Just relax," you murmur, trying to maintain any shred of professional demeanor. As you work, you can't help but notice the way his breath hitches, the tension in his body melting away under your skilled hands. The room feels smaller, the air heavier with each passing second.

He closes his eyes, a soft sigh escaping his lips. "That feels amazing," he whispers, and you swallow hard, trying to focus solely on the task at hand. As you work, the intimacy of the moment isn't lost on you, and you can't help but wonder if he feels it too.

Minutes tick by like hours as you work the tense muscle of Art’s neck. You're acutely aware of every sigh, every shift in his body, every subtle reaction to your touch. You finally pull away when you think it’s been enough time, eager to get out of this damn house before you do something you’ll regret.

You didn’t notice how close you really were to Art until you pulled back only to be met with his face mere inches away from yours. Startled by the sudden proximity, you freeze, caught off guard by the intensity of Art's gaze. His eyes, dark and searching, seem to hold a silent question, a silent invitation.

Now, Art’s body is one thing, it’s objectively perfect. He’s a professional athlete, of course it’s perfect. It has to be perfect. It’s his damn face that gets you.

He’s beautiful, beyond beautiful. He looks like he should be splayed across canvas hanging in the Louvre. The dim lighting in the room illuminates his face beautifully, his golden hair haloing around his head makes him look ethereal. Each of his features look as if they were handcrafted by a master sculptor, each contour and line a testament to perfection. His chiseled jawline speaks of strength and determination, while his lips, soft and inviting, seem to beckon you closer with every breath. His eyes are deep pools of ocean blue, though this close you can see a small splash of brown in his left eye you didn’t notice before, swirling with emotions that stir something deep within you.

Something more shocking than Art’s beauty, is how fucking tired he looks. Lines of exhaustion are etched along his face, subtle but undeniable. The weariness in his eyes speaks volumes, a silent plea for respite from the relentless demands of tennis. And yet, even amidst the exhaustion, there's a flicker of longing. He’s staring at you like he needs you, eyes wide and yearning. His chest rising and failing a little more harshly than it did before, each exhale coming out ragged and sharp.

“Art…” you whisper, heart threatening to beat out of your chest. He’s so warm, the heat emitting off of him makes you want to lean into it. You want to crawl on top of his powerful thighs and bury your face in his chest and never leave. Your hands flex where they’re draped over Art’s neck.

It happens in slow motion, Art’s hand trails up the skin of your thigh as your name falls from his lips like a prayer, and it’s like you’ve been electrocuted. You’re rearing back with a sharp breath, dropping your hands from his neck and taking a couple steps back.

“It was really nice to- uh to meet you, Art.” you say frantically, swinging your bag firmly over your shoulder and rushing to the door. Art’s still sitting on the table, silently watching you panic. He doesn’t try to stop you. “I hope your shoulder feels better,” is all you say before bursting out the door and speed walking out of the pool house.

Your heart's racing as you walk through the backyard, hands shaking even through the death grip you have on the strap of your bag. What the hell was that? What the hell was that? Did Art Donaldson just make a pass at you? You must be imagining things.

The thought rattles around in your mind, refusing to be dismissed. His words, his tone—they seemed to linger in the air, haunting you with their implications. The way he touched you, like he couldn’t help himself. But no, it couldn't be. He was married to Tashi, and besides, he was just being polite, right? You try to convince yourself of that as you make your way back to the house.

As you walk inside, still slightly shaken up, Tashi’s the first thing you see. She’s sitting in the living room, laptop open on the coffee table in front of her.

“Hey,” she says, sitting up straighter on the coach, “how was it?”

You swallow, urging yourself to calm down. “It was great, he should be seeing some improvement over the next few days.”

Tashi nods her head, seemingly pleased though it doesn’t show on her face. “Could this be a weekly thing, these appointments. He could really use them.”

No question marks. Motherfucker.

You flounder, stomach dropping. “Weekly? As in every Thursday?”

Tashi’s brow raises, eyes looking over you inquisitively. “Yes, preferably all home visits.”She stands from the couch, taking a couple steps towards you. “We read on your website you take permanent clients, is that not the case anymore.”

You shake your head, eyes wide as they follow her while she walks. “N-no, Mrs. Duncan we do. We could pencil you in if you’re willing to pay monthly for the time slot. Would you like to talk to some of my other employees to work out a rotating schedule?”

Tashi stops a few feet away from you, hands in her pockets. “Actually, we were hoping you’d be the one coming down. The only one.” You blink, her words slam over you like a ton of bricks. Just you, in a room with a half-naked Art. Every single Thursday. That can’t happen, not after what just went down between the two of you.

You can practically hear the warning bells blaring in your mind, urging you to refuse, to put an end to this before it spirals out of control. Yet, there's another voice, quieter but no less insistent, whispering seductive promises of what could be if you were to stay.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you grapple with the conflicting desires warring within you. Tashi's expectant gaze weighs heavily on you, waiting for your response, and you know that whatever decision you make will irrevocably alter the course of things between you and Art. With a shaky breath, you steel yourself, the weight of your choice settling like a stone in your stomach.

"I...I'll do it," you finally say, the words leaving your lips before you can stop them. "I'll make sure to pencil you in for weekly sessions, Mrs. Duncan."

Tashi's lips curve up slightly, satisfied, but beneath the surface you can sense the tension thrumming through the air. You've made your choice, for better or for worse, and now you can only hope that it won't lead to the downfall of everything you've worked so hard to build.

“Wonderful,” she says, gesturing for you to follow her to the front door. You trail behind her like a loyal pet, silently allowing her to drag you wherever she pleases. “Thank you again for coming out, and please,” she pauses with her hand on the doorknob, turning to meet your eye, “call me Tashi.”

"Thank you, Tashi," you murmur softly, the weight of her name feeling foreign on your tongue when you’re actually saying it to her for the first time. "I'll make sure to arrange everything at the office."

Tashi's smile widens, though there's a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. "I look forward to seeing you, then," she says, her tone laced with a hint of anticipation. "And please, if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to reach out."

With a final nod, Tashi opens the front door, the outside world beckoning beyond its threshold. You take a hesitant step forward, the weight of your decision pressing down on your shoulders like a heavy burden. As you step out into the cool evening air, you can't shake the feeling that you've just crossed a line from which there may be no turning back. But for now, all you can do is steel your nerves and hope that you haven't made a huge mistake.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…

Your sessions with Art continue on. The guilt settling deep in your stomach each time you set foot in the Donaldson/Duncan house also continues. It worsens each time the two of you are alone in that damned massage room. Technically you’ve done nothing wrong, but you know deep in the back of your mind that what you’re doing isn’t normal. Each meeting is a strange mixture of tension and familiarity. When you arrive, Tashi always greets you warmly, her trust in you unwavering. It feels like a dagger each time, twisting deeper and deeper into your conscience.

Neither of you talk about it, what happened during your session, and Art doesn’t treat you any differently. He still goes out of his way to make polite conversation, asking you about your life, about your business, he even brings up old anecdotes you told him offhandedly. He doesn’t talk about tennis, and he has to know you can keep up in conversation with it since you told him about your history with it, you just assume he doesn’t want to.

That makes sense, you always think back to the first time he met you. How he brushed off any conversation about his career, how his demeanor changed when he spoke about it. How drained he looked. There was a sadness in his eyes, a weight he carried that seemed to go beyond just a few standard aches and pains. You remember how it struck you then, and it strikes you still, each time you see him.

His shoulder is getting better, you can tell. He can lay on it, or raise it above his head, without wincing. That makes your heart swell, knowing that despite how weird and kind of fucked up everything is, he’s healing.

The familiar sound of your timer ringing pulls you out of your thoughts. You’re shocked at how fast this appointment flew by, but you could tell as soon as you walked into the massage room to find Art already sitting on the table waiting for you, that something about this session feels different. It’s silly to call it “sensing a bad vibe”, but that’s exactly what you felt entering the room's threshold.

Art didn’t speak much as you worked, just laying on the table silently after saying hello and asking you about your week. The silence is definitely odd, Art’s not a chatterbox by any means, but he usually keeps some form of conversation flowing. After a while, you start to think it might be something you did, like maybe he’s mad at you. It sounds so stupid in your head, like you’re some poor high school girl getting hung up over a fucking guy giving you the silent treatment. The only thing more stupid than that is how much it’s actually affecting you. Art has you over analyzing everything you’ve said or done over the last couple visits, you dread that maybe he just came to his senses after all this time. That he finally snapped out of whatever trance he was in and remembered he has a beautiful wife, and that he doesn’t really want some random massage therapist.

“Alright,” you say softly, stepping away from the table, “All done.” As you turn off the timer and gather your thoughts, you can't shake the feeling that something is off. You force yourself to bury it, Art doesn’t owe you an explanation, he doesn’t owe you anything. You aren’t his.

You glance over at him as he slowly sits up, his expression unreadable. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. You offer a small smile in return, trying to squash all the ugly feelings mixing in your stomach. You turn to busy yourself with packing up, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu.

Art’s voice cuts through the silence, sounding weary. “Are we still pretending it didn’t happen?”

It catches you off guard, making you drop the bottle in your hands back onto the table loudly. Your heart races as you turn back to face him, unsure of how to respond. The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, demanding a response you’re not sure you’re ready to give.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “I...I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I was hoping we could just…forget about it.”

Art’s eyes search yours, filled with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. “I don’t think I can,” he confesses, his voice tinged with sadness.

The same feelings from that day rush back in your mind, flooding all your senses. It's as if time folds in on itself, bringing you right back to that moment where everything changed. You feel panic clawing its way up your body, fight or flight response waging a war inside of you.

You chose flight, shoving the last bottle in your bag and making a break for the door. Ready to run just like you did back then, run and come back next week with your tail between your legs desperately trying to forget that this ever happened, again. Art’s voice stops you just as you have your hand on the doorknob.

“Please…” he whispers, he sounds so broken, so vulnerable. “Please, don’t run.”

You don’t know what it is, maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, or the repressed feelings, or your shitty back bone, but whatever it is makes you pause, hand falling off the doorknob to lay limp at your side. You turn back to face him, the raw need in his eyes mirrored by your own emotions. It tugs at your heart, making it impossible to leave. You feel a surge of guilt and hesitation, but the longing in his gaze holds you captive. Slowly, you make your way towards him, taking small slow steps like you could still leave at any minute, but you know you won’t.

You walk until you’re crowding him, standing between his spread legs just like you did all those sessions ago. His eyes are wide, almost disbelieving, like he thought you’d turn around and slam the door on him instead. Which is what you should do, you should walk about that door right now and never step foot in their house again.

Art whispers your name, his voice a soft caress that sends sparks zapping down your spine. You're close enough to feel his breath fanning over your face, warm and intimate. You inhale, like you’re trying to absorb his words, his essence, his everything.

His hand takes yours, bringing it up to his chest. He presses it firmly against his pec, right on top of his heart. You can feel the rapid, uneven thumping beneath your palm. His thumb caresses your wrist gently, making goosebumps pebble over your skin.

It’s easy to get lost in Art’s eyes, so you’re shocked to notice something that very quickly grabs your attention. Art’s towel is tented obscenely, hard cock straining against the thick material. You swallow roughly at the sight, feeling the need to touch, to take, to help.

Your knees hit the floor before you fully realize the entire gravity of what you’re doing. You don’t care about any of that anyway, not right now.

Right now Art Donaldson is swiping his thumb across the scar on your wrist with his big sparkly eyes desperately looking into yours, unashamedly begging for you to touch him.

Who are you to deny him?

Your hands find the knot of his towel and yank it roughly, ripping it off Art's hips and tossing it aside. His hard cock springs out, slapping up against his stomach enticingly. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, pleased to see he’s perfect all over.

Art’s cock is long, and thick. He’s big, but in an exciting way, not in an intimidating way. He’s already steadily drooling pre-cum from his soft pink tip, already so hard and you haven’t even touched him yet. You reach up, tracing your finger along the length of him lightly. Art inhales, his eyes fluttering closed as you touch him for the first time. The anticipation in the room is palpable, a heady mix of desire and need that seems to swirl around you both.

You circle your hand around the base of his cock, stroking up and up until your hand bumps into the head, where you start to rub your thumb back and forth gently, spreading the wetness from his pre-cum before sliding your hand back down. Slowly, you lean in, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his cock before taking him into your mouth, savoring the taste of him as he groans deeply, hands gripping the massage table tightly.

“Shit,” he grits out, casting his gaze to the ceiling, chest already heaving raggedly.

You slide the warmth of your mouth down the shaft of his cock, moaning at the heady taste of him, skin soft and velvety on your tongue.

“Fuck, your mouth…” Art whispers above you, his words trailing off into a string of breathy moans. You hum in response, working his cock faster to draw out more of those noises. Hollowing your cheeks, you sink down towards the circle of your fist still holding the base of his cock with wet, slippery slurping sounds. Art’s hand lets go of the table, coming up to cup your cheek in a move way too intimate for what the two of you are doing.

You chance a look up, and your heart skips several beats at what you see. Art’s already staring down at you, his face twisted up in pleasure. His pale cheeks are flushed, brows drawn together tightly, plush bottom lip caught between his teeth. All that is enough to make you feel ten feet tall, but that’s not what makes you pause.

It’s his eyes, the way Art’s looking at you.

The look in his eyes is…worshipful. Reverent. Like you’re a celestial being, a divine grace walking among mortals. Not some girl on her knees for a married man in his house’s private fucking massage room.

Yet the longer you hold his gaze, while still working your mouth over his hard cock, you feel something strange stirring inside you. Art’s eyes holding such a longing reverence so intense, it was starting to elevate you to a pedestal of adoration. Of devotion.

Right now Art’s like the sun, burning so brightly you feel you need to look away before he consumes you, but you don’t.

“Please,” Art begs desperately, voice so soft you barely even hear it. There’s tears welling in his eyes, his red rimmed and so so tired looking eyes. It breaks your heart, how could such a wonderful man be reduced to this?

You pull off Art’s cock, hand still pumping firmly over him. He whines at the loss of your mouth, hips bucking up to chase after the warm heat. His tip bumps over your lips as he moves, trailing a thin line of pre-cum across them.

Without breaking eye contact, you speak.

“You’re so good, Art.”

It’s those four words whispered against the tip of Art's leaking cock that has him coming with a hitched breath and a soft cry. A few bursts of his warm come land over your parted lips before you take the head of his cock back in your mouth to greedily swallow down the rest.

"Thank you, fuck, thank you...!" Art grates out as his body trembles above you, hand squeezing yours so hard it borders on painful. You know you’re never coming back from this, but you still squeeze back as hard as you can all the same.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX DAYS LATER…

Maybe this is just your life now, fucking the husband of the woman you worshiped like a God for years on end. It’s like you can’t stop, like you’re an addict or something. No matter how disgusting and shameful you feel every time you get home from Art’s appointments, you can’t help but give into him. It’s a twisted dance, a cycle of pleasure and regret that you can’t seem to break. One look into his sad, kicked puppy eyes and you crack. You’ve convinced yourself it's just you reveling in the feeling of being truly wanted for the first time. But deep down, you know it’s more than that. It’s the way he makes you feel alive, the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in his world.

Art wants you. He needs you. He’s made that more than clear every single visit since you dropped down on your knees for him. The guilt gnaws at you, a constant reminder that you can't escape. Yet, every time you see him, every time he reaches out to you with that desperate need in his eyes, you find yourself powerless to resist.

You’ve never kissed, not on the lips. Art’s certainly tried, lips seeking yours out as your oiled up fist slips up and down his cock, as you sit on his lap and grind against him until he’s dirtying his towel. You just turn your head every time, letting him trail kisses along your jaw and neck instead somehow feels less real. Kissing Art will make it feel real, you know it will. So you don’t.

Funnily enough, you think things are going well. Maybe even as well as getting a married man off every Thursday can go. You can see a change in Art, in his behavior and the way he holds himself. He smiles more, he laughs more, it’s like he’s giving more of himself to you each time you meet with him. It’s exhilarating, the way your presence has this effect on him, almost as if you’re breathing new life into him.

Art’s newfound lightness is infectious. You find yourself looking forward to Thursdays with an anticipation that borders on impatience. The way he looks at you, the tender touches that linger just a bit longer, the conversations that flow more freely–it all feels like a dream you’re afraid to wake up from.

You should have known it was too good to be true, that this little world you created in your head was just the calm before the storm.

Everything about this session was normal to start. It’s a little less intense since Art’s shoulder is doing better, now you have free reign over the rest of his body. Greedy hands free to glide over the planes and planes of muscle you’ve become familiar with.

As you work on his lower back, your hands moving in practiced, soothing motions, you notice a subtle rigidity in his muscles. “Everything alright?” you ask, keeping your tone light.

Art hesitates before answering. “Yeah, just…a lot on my mind.”

You frown, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Art stays quiet, still laying silently on the table face down. You stare at the back of his head, like if you stare hard enough you’ll be able to tell what he’s thinking. Taking his silence as not wanting to talk, you continue on. You don’t want to pressure him to confide with you, not when he already has a wife for that.

As your hands continue to move over Art's tense shoulders, he lets out a deep sigh, breaking the silence. "I need you,” he whispers softly, his voice filled with an unexpected vulnerability. He shifts on the table, leaning up to look you in the eye; his own eyes are watery, lashes clumped together with unshed tears. “It's not just the massages. I need you in my life, no more of this half-assed bullshit. I need all of you.”

You feel your whole world turn upside down in a single second, the distinct feeling of your heart lurching out of your chest and your stomach dropping to your feet. It’s like the walls of the room start moving in on you, caging you in. It makes your chest feel tight, breath coming out in short jagged rasps. Panic grips you, and you violently rip your hands off Art’s body, stumbling back from the massage table.

"I-I'm sorry, I can't," you stammer, voice choked with emotion, as you turn to flee from the room, not even bothering to grab your stuff. But before you could escape, Art was right behind you, reaching out to catch your wrist, his grip gentle yet firm. "Please don't go, please," he begs, his eyes pleading with you to stay and talk. You wrench your hand free and run out of the room.

You think you hear Art calling out your name through all the static rushing through your ears, but you’re not sure, and you don’t look back to check. Your feet pound against the tile as you run out of the pool house feeling like you’re about to throw up, or pass out. Art’s confession is the only thing running through your mind. The only thing that’s still clear through your dizzying panic.

You finally start to breathe again when you burst into the house, leaning back against the cool glass of the door to try and relax before you start to spiral. The silence inside is almost oppressive, the only sound the rapid thudding of your heart in your ears. You close your eyes, willing yourself to calm down, to find some semblance of control.

Your name being said grabs your attention, and you open your eyes to find Tashi at the top of the stairs.

“Is everything okay? I heard the door slam.” Her expression is a mix of concern and confusion as she takes a few steps down. You push yourself off the door, you need to leave as soon as possible, before Tashi can reach you and coerce you into staying.

“Everything's fine!” Your voice sounds shaky despite your best efforts to calm yourself, you’re basically speed walking to the door. “I just, I got a phone call, and I need to leave. Right now. I’m so sorry.”

You don’t even wait for her to reply before you’re yanking the door open and rushing outside. You hope to God that she doesn’t follow you outside. She doesn’t.

You walk, arms wrapped around yourself tightly in a feeble attempt to stop shaking. There are tears burning your eyes and making everything in front of you blurry. The wind whips your hair around your face, stinging your cheeks as you walk further away from the house.

Each step feels heavier, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you try to make sense of the storm inside you. The chaotic weather seems to mock your turmoil, perfectly matching the chaos you feel. You struggle to piece together what just happened, the intensity of Art’s words echoing in your mind.

“I need you.”

His voice had been so raw, so vulnerable, and it scared you. You weren’t ready for that kind of emotion, that kind of responsibility, that kind of guilt. The weight of it had sent you running, and now you’re left grappling with the aftermath.

Fuck.

A LITTLE MORE THAN SIX HOURS LATER…

The drive home was a blur. Rain and wind beating against the windshield nearly the whole time. You’d laugh at how ironic it was, like God’s punishing you with shitty weather, but you’re too busy fighting tears to find the humor in it.

The dread didn’t set in until you got home, stumbling through the front door on shaky legs until you reached your kitchen where you promptly emptied everything in your stomach into your trash. After you force yourself into the shower to wash the rain, and guilt, off of your skin. You scrub yourself raw, skin pink and sensitive to the touch, like that will somehow erase all that you’ve done.

When you finally step out, the bathroom mirror is fogged, a ghostly reflection staring back at you through the mist. You avoid its gaze, wrapping yourself in a towel and padding through your room to collapse onto your bed. The silence of the house presses in on you, letting your thoughts consume you.

Art’s words play on a loop inside your head, the look on his face burned to the forefront of your mind. The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air, rocking you with its intensity. Running away had seemed like the only option at the time, a knee-jerk reaction to the overwhelming flood of emotions threatening to engulf you.

You know you didn’t run from Art because you don’t want him, you ran because there’s nothing you want more. In the aftermath, running felt less like a choice and more like an instinctual response to the storm of emotions threatening to consume you whole since the first day you met him. Every step away from Art was a battle against the gravitational pull of your desires, a struggle against the overwhelming urge to surrender to what you both shared.

The truth is crystal clear: you didn't run from Art because you're devoid of feelings for him. You ran precisely because your heart beats in synchrony with his, because the depth of your longing for him is as boundless as the universe itself.

Your phone pings from the dresser, you ignore it. A second later, it pings again, and again, and again. You furrow your brows, glaring at your nightstand until you reach over and pick up your phone. It’s an unknown number, but you know who it is.

UNKNOWN NUMBER I need to see you. Please, I can send a car. It's Art. Tashi isn’t home tonight.

Maybe you’re the worst person in the world, but all the fight leaves your body the second you read Art’s texts. You need to see him as much as he needs to see you. Your fingers type out a response before you can think twice.

Art okay.

You send him your address, jumping out of bed to throw on the first things you see. A black SUV was waiting for you as soon as you got downstairs, just as promised. You climbed in after getting confirmation from the driver, and sat in the backseat quietly as you went down the familiar streets.

As the house comes into view, you can see the front door’s light is still on, waiting for you. You barely wait for the car to stop before you’re opening the car door and stepping outside. The rain immediately drenches you, seeping through your thin sleep clothes. You take two steps before the front door swings open and Art comes rushing out into the rain. He’s only wearing sleep pants, his bare feet smack wetly on the concrete as he runs to you.

Art stops short of you, hesitating, like he doesn’t know whether to touch you or not. You want him to touch you so bad you’re scared it might kill you. The air between you feels charged, every drop of rain a tiny spark. Finally, Art reaches out, his hand trembling as he brushes a soaked strand of hair from your face. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you step closer, collapsing into his arms. The rain continues to fall around you, but at this moment, it’s just the two of you.

"Art," you breathe, your voice trembling. "What are we doing?"

He gazes into your eyes, the raw emotion in his expression mirroring your own. "I don't know," he admits, his hands gently sliding down to your shoulders. "But I can't let you go. Not now." His words hang between you, a fragile thread of honesty that binds you together. You can feel the weight of his words, the sincerity in his voice, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as his words sink in. The honesty in his gaze, the desperation in his touch—it all overwhelms you, leaving you breathless. The only thing you can think of, the only thing that feels right, is kissing him. So you do.

You lean closer, your heart pounding in your chest, and gently cup his face in your hands. His eyes widen for a moment, a flicker of surprise mingling with the intensity of his emotions. Then, as if drawn together by an invisible force, your lips meet his.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative and sweet, a question and an answer all at once. His lips are cold and slightly trembling, matching the fluttering in your chest. You can taste the salt of your tears mingling with the sweetness of the moment. Time seems to stand still as you lose yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours.

Gradually, the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent and fervent, a silent expression of everything words can’t convey. Art’s arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, his fingers threading through your hair. The heat between you intensifies, both your breath coming faster, mingling as the kiss grows hungrier.

Art’s heartbeat echoes against your chest, you can feel his grip on you getting tighter like he's scared of letting you go. Your hands slide down to his shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscles as you press closer, your bodies molding together. His tongue flicks against your lips, seeking entrance, and you part them eagerly, welcoming him in. The taste of him is intoxicating, a mix of desperation and passion that makes your head spin. A soft moan escapes your lips, and he responds with a low growl, his hands roaming down your back, pulling you impossibly closer.

“Art,” you say in between kisses, panting into his slick, open mouth. “I need you to fuck me.”

You can feel Art’s whole body shiver, groaning unabashedly into your mouth like he’s dying for it. “I’ve been waiting weeks for you to finally admit that.”

The two of you tear through the house, all tangled limbs and bumbling steps, you trail water all over the floor. Somewhere in the chaos you drop your phone and keys on the large kitchen island. Art refuses to let go of you to walk properly, blindly leading the way so he can keep kissing you breathless.

Art only stops kissing you when you finally make it to his bedroom, pulling away to wrestle the now soaked sleep pants off his legs. You follow by example and peel your shirt off, skin damp and cold but you could care less, not when Art’s pants are pooling at his ankles and he’s throwing his boxers carelessly over his shoulder.

“God,” he breathes out, shaking his head like he can’t believe you're giving him this, “You’re so beautiful.”

The raw honesty in his tone has your cheeks burning, you cast your gaze to the floor instinctually, feeling too overwhelmed by his charged gaze raking over you. You can hear his feet softly padding against the floor, making his way closer. You watch his feet come to a complete stop in front of you, he takes a hold of your chin gently forcing you to look up at him.

His eyes, intense and unwavering, lock onto yours. “You’re fucking perfect.”

With a gentle push, Art lowers you onto the bed, his weight a comforting presence above you. He tilts your head back and kisses you breathless, one big hand sliding lower and lower on your stomach till he’s got his hand down the front of your shorts, he groans when his hand makes contact with your bare skin. You’d almost forgotten you hadn’t worn any underwear. His hand so close to your aching center has your breath hitching as you kiss, hips bucking up towards his palm.

You reach for his cock, an angry shade red and leaking steadily, but he catches your wrist before you can touch. You meet his eyes confused, but he just shakes his head.

“It’s been about me the whole time, baby. Let me fix that,” he whispers.

You nod your head wordlessly. You wouldn’t dream of denying him, not right now. He smiles, pecking your lips again before he starts to kiss his way downwards. He explores your body with his mouth with such care it has you shaking under every brush his lips. He kisses all down your jaw and neck, taking extra time on your chest to map out the skin of your breasts with his tongue. He circles your right nipple with the tip of his tongue a few times over before he takes it in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth gently. It has your back arching into his mouth, hands scrambling for a purchase on the silk sheets. One long finger slides around your entrance and dips inside, shallow, then deeper, stretching you slowly, carefully, while his other hand rubs your clit with light, gentle touches. “Is this good?” Art asks quietly, voice tinged slightly with insecurity, like you’re not completely unraveling because of him.

“God yes! Yes – fuck! – Art,” you mewl loudly, hips grinding down roughly onto his finger, desperate to take in more of him. You can feel him smile against your skin, pulling off to blow cool air over your hard nipple and repeating it all over again on your left. His finger slides through the wetness collecting in your hole, spreading it to your throbbing clit. He finally sinks a single finger into the warm, tight, heat of your cunt.

Art pulls away from your chest to kiss his way down your stomach, sliding lower and lower on the huge king size mattress, he doesn’t stop the rhythm of his fingers as he peels your shorts down your legs, tossing them aside. A guttural groan leaves his lips at the sight of your slick cunt parting over his fingers, taking them so well. He pitches forward like he can’t help himself, like his lips are magnetically drawn to your cunt, and presses a small kiss to your clit.

“Fuck!” You squeal and writhe as his finger fucks in and out of you, hands tangling in his messy hair, cheeks flushing at the sound of your leaking cunt squelching against his wrist with each thrust. Art's lips tighten over your clit, sucking for a brief second before he moves back to start laving his tongue over your cunt in careful, slightly clumsy, strokes. The sounds he's making, almost filthy slurping, accompanied by little moans now and then send small vibrations through you that shock your system, making you fist his hair even tighter.

Art’s lewd noises fill the air, mixing with your own moans to fill the room. His eyes stay closed for the most part, fluttering open every couple seconds to watch you fall apart. Your thighs shake uncontrollably around his head when you make eye contact, threatening to clamp around his ears and keep him there.

A sob tears from your throat when he adds another finger, then he curls them inside you and pulls back and god, shit, shit, fuck, fuck me, god, Art, please fuck me.

“Fuck me Art please fuck me I need it so bad please-” you ramble nonsensically, pulling at Art’s hair desperately. You can feel the warmth starting to pool in your stomach, but you don’t want to come on his tongue, or on his fingers, you want to come with him inside you.

Art lets you drag him up, the bottom half of his face is slick and shiny, drenched in your wetness. He makes his way up your body quickly, hands gripping tightly to your hips, not hesitating to kiss you even as your juices decorate his lips. You kiss back desperately, tasting yourself on his tongue. The head of his cock bumping against your twitching, empty hole has you whining.

“Fuck me, Art,” you breath hotly, hips canting up needily. “No condom, I’m on the pill. I want you to come inside me. Please, I need it.”

Slowly, he starts to sink in. Feeding you inch by inch torturously slow. He kisses you the whole time, greedily swallowing the moans flowing out of your mouth as he stretches your cunt on his thick cock. You grab at his shoulders like a lifeline, kissing back with everything you have.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he says through gritted teeth, hands gripping your hips hard enough that you know you’ll be bruised in the morning. “So fucking perfect for me, such a perfect pussy for my cock.”

“Move.” Is all you can manage to squeak out, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders.

Art starts to move, thrusts slow and gentle, like he’s easing you into it. You’re grateful for it, you’ve never taken anyone as big as him. Slowly, his thrusts speed up, cut hips smacking against the fat of your ass a little rougher than before. You revel in it, pushing your ass back greedily for more more more. From this angle, the thick head of his cock drags against your g-spot perfectly every time he plunges back into your dripping cunt.

“Shit! Right there, don’t stop,” you slur breathlessly, feeling the familiar warmth swirling through your stomach as he fucks you.

“I love you.” Art confesses against your lips, his breath hot and erratic. His sweaty forehead pressed to yours as he pounds in and out of you, the motion both relentless and tender. His eyes are wide open now, so blue and so big and so honest as they bore into yours so intensely it’s suffocating.

It’s soon, it’s way too soon. You’ve barely known each other for a couple months, but you can't deny the warmth spreading through your chest, mingling with the heat of the moment, making everything feel both overwhelming and perfect.

Now that you're here, with Art’s cock fitting so perfectly in the wet heat of your cunt, you can’t believe it took you this long. You love Art. You’ve been in love with Art since the first time he spoke to you. Since the first time he touched you like you were the solution to all his problems.

Art must take your stunned silence as rejection, head falling to rest on your shoulder dejectedly, but his hips don’t slow their rhythm. If anything he speeds up, hips thrusting against you desperately.

“Please, please say it back,” he begs, voice thick with emotion, “Say it back, I need to hear you say it. Please,”

You surge up, wrapping your arms around him as tightly as you can, ankles locking together across his back. Art couldn’t pull out of you if he wanted to, judging from the long whine he lets out, he doesn’t mind.

“I love you, Art” you whisper back, barely audible over the lewd slap of his hips stinging your ass. Art groans so loudly you can feel it reverberating off the sensitive skin of your neck.

Hips speeding up even faster, Art turns his head to catch your lips in a searing kiss. This kiss is different than any of the other ones you’ve shared tonight, full of so much emotion and unspoken words. You swear you feel your heart grow three sizes, almost full and threatening to break out of your chest.

“I’m gonna come, fuck, I’m gonna fucking come,” he breathes between kisses. You can only moan in response, right on the brink of your own orgasm. His hips start to lose their rhythm as he chases it, fucking into you faster and harder.

Art’s cock gives a final twitch inside you before his hips are stilling and he’s coming with a broken moan, unloading everything he has into you. You’re right behind him, vision whiting out as you come, thighs shaking where they’re draped around his hips.

Art collapses onto you, both of you breathing heavily as you come down from the high of your orgasm’s. You lay like that for a while, heaving and sweaty wrapped up in each other's arms. You feel something slot into place, something that you’ve been missing.

Art’s soft voice pierces through the afterglow, “Will you hold me?”

“Yes,” you whisper back, circling your arms around his shoulders.

…

When you wake up hours later you’re beyond thirsty, dehydrated from all the crying, and maybe from the sex. Art’s head is laying across your bare chest, tousled hair tickling your jaw and arms snug around your waist. He looks so peaceful, eyes closed with his long lashes fanning over his cheeks. The sound of his steady breathing is almost enough to lull you right back to sleep. You smile softly, running your hands through his hair slowly. Savoring how at peace he looks, so different from the battered, broken man you met.

You slip out of his arms as carefully as possible, not wanting to wake him. Rolling out of bed to search half-assedly for your clothes in the darkness. You can’t find your shirt, only your underwear and shorts. You notice a red shirt strewn over the dresser next to the bed, illuminated by the moonlight pouring through the blinds. You pick it up without thinking, it's soft in your hands, the fabric thin and worn down. You toss it on before padding out of the bedroom.

You get a little lost in your thoughts as you make your way to the kitchen, Art loves you.

The thought has you biting back a giddy smile. Art loves you and you love him too. It sounds fucking crazy, but you know it’s true. Your life is so completely fucked, you don’t know if you care.

Art loves you.

Your smile doesn’t leave your lips as you turn the corner, arms wrapped around yourself tightly, the warmth of Art's affection lingering like a gentle caress.

“He smiles more.”

The soft voice ringing out from your left makes you stop in your tracks. You turn, and there in the kitchen illuminated by the soft glow of the ceiling light, like an angel, is Tashi Duncan.

Tashi looks at you from her spot across the room with an impassive look on her face, she’s got your keys in one hand, fiddling with them boredly. When you don't reply she speaks again, "He's playing better, won the last three tournaments he was in." She says casually, setting her half full wine glass down on the island.

You don't need to ask her who "he" is.

You're silent for a few more beats as she stares at you expectantly, silently urging you to say something. You rack your brain for a response, caught like a deer in headlights under Tashi's gaze.

"What?" you softly mutter, words cutting through the air weakly.

Tashi sighs in exasperation, like you're a child who doesn't understand the simple question she's asking. She raises her wine glass back to her lips, draining the rest of it before setting it down once more and making her way over to you.

You know you should flee, make a break for the door before she reaches you. Running away from the woman whose husband you’re fucking - whose husband you just got done fucking, and who told you he loved you - while she pays you seems like the easiest thing to do in the moment, but you don't.

You find yourself glued to the spot as Tashi's commanding presence looms over you, until she's all you can see. Until her expensive smelling perfume is all you can breathe, until she's towering over you, miles of soft skin on display in a classy black nightie.

She stares down at you, her face completely unreadable. It feels like hours as her brown eyes burn into yours, your heart must be beating a thousand beats per second.

When Tashi finally moves, it’s her hand you see rising up in your peripheral vision. At first you think she's going to hit you, get you back for sleeping with her husband, for falling in love with her husband. You tense up, bracing for the slap, it would be the least of what you deserve, but it never comes.

Instead, Tashi's hand finds its way up to the side of your face, cupping your cheek gently. You can feel the chilled metal of her wedding band make contact with your warm skin.

You feel like you might pass out staring into the eyes of Tashi Duncan. Everything you ever wanted in high school flashing rapidly right before your eyes.

If Art Donaldson is the sun, Tashi is the moon. Her light draws you in and keeps you looking at her, and never wanting to look away.

Her thumb slides across your bottom lip, the same lip that’s kissed her husband. Ever so slightly, she pushes the tip of her thumb into your parted lips, far enough to touch your bottom teeth. Your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening in shock, your pulse is fluttering wildly. You distantly wonder if she can feel it on the inside of her wrist.

“I’m his coach, I need to be hard on him or he fails. I refuse to let him fail,” she says softly, tone casual like she’s not brushing the tip of your tongue with her fingers. “But I’m not stupid, I know what he needs. Someone sweet, someone gentle, someone who looks at him and doesn’t see tennis.”

You couldn’t answer her if you wanted to, but you wouldn’t trust yourself to speak anyway. You feel far away and floaty the longer her fingers sit in your mouth, your brain feels like molasses.

“I can’t give him what he needs. I’m not that kind of person,” Tashi says, eyes roaming your face languidly, like she’s window shopping your features. Her voice is nearly a whisper the next time she speaks, “but you are. You could be that for him.”

Your heart drops, the haze surrounding your brain rips away so violently, like someone took a leaf blower to it. Her words make everything start to fall into place, the at home visits, the “exclusive deal”, the weird ass run-ins you’ve had with her over the weeks.

This was never about the goddamn massages.

For a few seconds you both stay like that. Standing inches away from each other in the half-lit kitchen of her and Art's house. For a second, you think you can see the tiniest smile playing on her lips before she drops her hand from you completely.

"There’s a car waiting for you outside,” she says, still close enough that you can feel her breath fan over your face, “See you next Thursday."

Tashi turns on her heels and leaves you alone, disappearing down the long hallway leading to her and Art's bedroom. You watch the whole time she goes, until she completely fades into the shadows. Your lip still tingling from her touch.

There’s only one thing on your mind as you incredulously stare down the now empty hall…

These people are so fucking weird.

taglist!

@ebodebo @yuenity @artemis-b-writes

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Text

Gold chain (pt1) | Leah Williamson

Leah Williamson x tennis player!reader For the past year, Leah had been a big fan of yours, and now her mother wasn't missing any opportunity to tease her during Roland Garros. warnings: none, just fluff and slow burn note: this one is long (maybe?), sorry about that. The next part has more Leah and reader interactions, I promise. This was written with an oc, i changed everything at the last minute so sorry if there are any mistakes there,, my masterlist

Leah Williamson, England captain, European champion, Miss Arsenal.

That was how she was publicly recognised within the world of football, a sport that had always been her passion, but lately, or rather, since she had been invited to Wimbledon in 2023, she had begun to share some of that passion with tennis.

She explained to everyone that she fell in love with tennis during a deep conversation with the legendary Billie Jean King. While there was truth to that, tennis didn't captivate her so much because of the sport itself, but rather because of a certain player, who since that Wimbledon semifinal, Leah had watched almost all of her matches.

“Believe me, that girl Y/N is great, don't let this match fool you” Billie had muttered to her after witnessing your unfortunate loss in the last set.

And who was Leah to doubt the words of the greatest tennis player in history?

Since then, Leah has managed to watch as many of your matches as possible. And yes, you were undeniably beautiful, but what truly captivated Leah was the elegance with which you played. Each swing of your racket held a mesmerizing grace that left Leah spellbound every time.

And now, with a break after the final game of the European qualifiers, it was the opportunity for a holiday.

"Hey, Leah!" Georgia barged into her room on the last day of camp, now that they were back in England. "Got any plans for this week?"

"Yeah," Leah replied, without giving any details, more focused on packing her suitcase than engaging in conversation with her friend.

"Where? With who?" Georgia asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively. She knew Leah tended to keep her romantic interactions with girls in private, not just from the public but even from her own friends.

"With my mom, you idiot," Leah replied, rolling her eyes. "We're headed to France."

"Now? What's so interesting about France?" she asked, with a look of disgust on her face. Sure, there were plenty of interesting things to do in France, but Georgia didn't want to hear anything related to that country for a couple of days.

"Roland Garros? Does that ring a bell for you?" Leah retorted, her tone laced with sarcasm.

"Huh? Since when do you go to another country for a tennis match?"

"My mom likes it" Leah lied smoothly, without any hint of shame. If only Georgia knew that Leah had sweetened the deal for her mother with promises of fine wines and breathtaking views post-match.

"Well, that's too bad... but text me if your plans change,"

Leah nodded, though it was in vain because she wouldn't change going to France to see her favorite tennis player.

"Who are we rooting for?" Amanda said, taking a sip of her drink, not really interested in what was happening on the clay.

"Uh, we're impartial," Leah said, settling back in her seat.

Four games had already been played, each player winning their respective games.

"I have a feeling we're rooting for the girl in the white visor," her mother said.

Leah looked at her, pulling her sunglasses down a little. "What?"

"Well, you make a face every time the other player makes a point."

Leah said nothing to that comment, her attention had returned to you, now one point away from managing to break your opponent's serve. It was an important match, a semifinal, so every point would be valuable to put you in the final of the tournament.

Still not saying anything back to her mother, Leah held her breath for a few seconds. The ball was going back and forth across the court, but you, with impressive precision, hit the ball with a spin that made it graze the top of the net. For a moment, it seemed like it might fall short, but the ball dropped just over, catching your opponent off guard.

"Wonderful" muttered Leah, crossing her arms with a smile, ready to enjoy the rest of the match.

There were times when tennis was mentally overwhelming. You felt this every time you played, and it had cost you a lot of matches in the past. A whole court filled with hundreds of people, all watching you, many anxiously waiting for you to make a mistake that could cost you the match. It was more than overwhelming.

That's why, at times, you had to pause your mind and take a deep breath, despite how difficult that was for you.

You only needed one more game to win the set and secure a place in the Roland Garros final. No pressure, of course.

The advantage was that you were serving in this game, but ironically, this often made you even more nervous. The pressure of delivering a strong serve was immense.

The crowd was overwhelming, so many eyes watching you, so many unfamiliar faces focused on you, watching every move, your family and team sitting behind you. In this position you couldn’t look at them to calm down.

You needed to focus your eyes on something, to steady your nerves. As you walked towards your position, after drying your face with the towel, you looked in a diagonal direction, right towards the area where you were supposed to put the ball.

As you raised your gaze slightly, something caught your eye. In the stands, amid a sea of blonde and brown heads, was a woman with striking red hair. The woman stood out, not only because of her hair, but also because she was the only person not looking at you, instead, her attention was elsewhere.

You stole a glance at the red-haired woman as you inhaled deeply, preparing for your serve. With a fluid motion, you raised her arm, tossed the ball into the air and delivered a powerful strike.

Ace!

The ball zipped across the court with velocity, catching your opponent off guard. Convinced it would fly out, your opponent made no attempt to chase after it.

A satisfied smile tugged at your lips.

Once more, your gaze flickered toward the red-haired woman in the stands. Drawing another deep breath, you focused intensely as you prepared to serve again. With a determined flick of your wrist, you sent the ball hurtling across the court, this time, your aim wasn’t for an ace, but rather to set up a play that would complicate the things for your opponent.

Within minutes the score stood at 40-15. Just one more point.

You didn't want to take any unnecessary risks, but you craved to close the match with a decisive point, one point to make it clear why you were here.

So, you adjusted your visor, brushed your fingers over the gold chain hanging from your neck and looked up, for the first time looking directly at the woman, not even getting a good look at her, because the woman was quite far away, but the woman's disinterest helped you to clear your head and focus your mind, ignoring the bunch of other faces watching you.

Just one more point.

You lifted the ball, the familiar weight of your racket in your hand, a quiet groan escaping your lips before you swung. Then, the sound of the impact echoed through the entire court and as the ball bounced on the clay.

Ace!

Leah was up from her seat at the same time as you fell backwards onto the clay.

"That was incredible," Leah exclaimed, joining the chorus of applause.

"Incredible?" Amanda asked without understanding that much. However, what truly caught her off guard was the sight of her daughter like that, grinning from ear to ear. It was common to see her like that when it came to football matches, but not usually during tennis.

"Are you kidding? It was phenomenal! If you hadn't been glued to your phone, you’d have felt the same as the rest of us!" Leah retorted.

"So, did we win?" Amanda inquired.

"Well, you have won a few more days in France," Leah replied, attempting to temper her excitement. "The final is in two days."

"Do we have tickets?”

"Of course, I purchased them in advance. I already knew Y/N would make it to the finals."

Amanda regarded her daughter suspiciously. "You're not into gambling, are you?"

"Of course not," Leah replied with a grin. "But if I were to bet on her I'd do pretty well”

As they made their way toward the exit, following the crowd, Amanda broke the silence. "Do you know that player?"

"No… not personally" Leah replied "But I watched her play at Wimbledon last year."

"Did she win?"

"No" Leah shook her head, a hint of disappointment in her expression. "She lost"

"So, she's not that good?"

"Actually, she's quite impressive," Leah defended you. "She went up against the number two player in the world."

"What rank is she?" Amanda inquired.

"Four," Leah answered.

"Then she's not the best," Amanda said confidently.

"Mom!" Leah nudged her playfully while Amanda held back her laughter. "You couldn't even hit the ball."

"Neither could you, I remember your attempts at tennis when you were little," Amanda chuckled. "But what I don't get is why you're defending her so much"

"Because she's great, she’s talented! Look over there!" Leah pointed behind her, where a large screen displayed the game's results alongside your photo.

Amanda's eyes immediately gravitated toward the image, ignoring the points table. "And she's quite pretty," she remarked, studying your face for the first time.

"And she's talented," Leah emphasized, feeling a blush creeping up her ears. Thankfully, her hair concealed it from her mother's curious gaze.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart," Amanda replied with a smile.

It was a tough match, quite a tough match, but that's what you would expect in a Roland Garros final.

The first set ended 6-4 in favor of Iga Swiatek.

You had faced her numerous times throughout your professional career, but had never managed to defeat her in an official match. Despite your old friendship with Iga, there was an undeniable intensity when you two met on the court, and you were determined to shine this time.

As the first set concluded, you sank into your chair, you had to use the break to ease the tension in your legs. Uncapping your water bottle, your fingers instinctively found the gold chain around your neck, adorned with your initials. It may have seemed superstitious, but wearing it had always brought you luck on the court.

Suddenly, your coach's voice pierced the distance, signaling for you to relax and loosen up your play. You brushed off the advice, as if you hadn't already realized that. Ignoring your coach's guidance was risky, but you already had your own voice in your mind against you.

Taking a long sip of water, you refocused your gaze forward. Then, something caught your attention.

The same woman from the previous match was in the stands again. You hadn't noticed her before, too engrossed in your opponent. Again, that was the key to your game, you needed to block out distractions and focus on yourself and the ball. Just like you had done during the semifinal match, you needed to tune out everything else.

"How many points before your girl loses?" Amanda said, glancing sideways at Leah, who was leaning forward, her elbows on her knees and a faint blush on her cheeks. According to Leah it was from the sun hitting her face, but Amanda knew her daughter well enough.

"Don't pester me, now's not the time," Leah replied, sitting up straight in her seat and adjusting her sunglasses.

"I'm not pestering you, but you claimed that girl was fantastic. Yet, from what I've seen today, the other player seems better to me."

"Well, she's number one after all"

"So, you admit she's the best."

Leah rolled her eyes. "Y/N just needs to take a breath. After this break she'll bounce back, you'll see. She'll shut your mouth"

"If you say so."

And so it happened. You had won the second set 4-6, breaking Iga's serve at the crucial moment. The victory was almost surreal, even Leah found it hard to believe.

"Stop biting your nails," her mother said, giving Leah's leg a slap as she saw her nervous habit.

"She's going to win," Leah said without looking at her mother, her gaze fixed on you, as you refreshed yourself by wetting your hair before the final set.

"Leah, you've been saying that since yesterday," Amanda remarked, a mixture of amusement and exasperation in her tone.

"I’m excited," Leah defended.

Amanda shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "If she wins, will you approach her?"

"Are you being serious?" she said, shaking her head "What would I even say?" Leah replied, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

"You've been crushing over her for days. I've never seen you like this with someone you don't even know," Amanda teased.

"It's not a crush. I just admire her athletic ability and determination, that's all," Leah insisted.

"Well, then you two have something in common. I don’t see why you don’t talk to her"

"Because... I just don't," Leah stammered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"What a coward," Amanda teased.

The set stood at 4-5 in your favor, but now it was Iga's turn to serve, and she was already in position. You shifted your weight from side to side, preparing for the shot, a smile gracing your lips as you caught sight of the red-haired woman just above Iga’s head. The woman had become your anchor, helping you refocus on your game.

It was almost amusing, thinking that no one else existed in the crowd, just you and the woman. You could tell the woman wasn’t at all interested in what was going on in the clay. You often caught the woman glancing at her phone during the set. Yet, you found solace in playing as if you were solely performing for the woman.

However, you didn’t forget the game at hand, swiftly responding to each shot with your racket, rallying back and forth several times before you had a moment of brilliance that allowed you to execute a breathtaking drop shot in the opposite direction of Iga's sprint.

It was the highlight of the tournament, perhaps even of your career, your best point. Yet, when you glanced up and noticed the red-haired woman looking away, you couldn't help but chuckle.

With the score now at 40-AD, you needed just one more point to clinch your first grand slam title. As Iga's shot came straight towards your body, you managed to get your racket in position to return the ball. The exchange of the ball was intense, this time you had to sprint to reach a ball you never thought you could. You struck it with the edge of your racket, hoping for the best as the ball sailed toward the line.

As you watched the ball clear the net, you felt the light weight of your gold chain around your neck and remembered that luck was on your side this time.

Everything happened in slow motion as Iga dropped her racket to the ground, and moments later, you found yourself on your knees on the clay court, the crowd erupting into cheers around you.

You didn't know how, but now you were already in the stands, being hugged by your family and your team, with your coach by your side, trying to shake some of the clay off your clothes.

"I need you to do me a favor" you said to him before the tournament staff took you away for the trophy presentation.

As Leah and her mother descended the stairs toward the exit, Leah couldn't contain her excitement. "I told you Y/N would win," she exclaimed, her hand firmly grasping her mother's arm. The trophy presentation had concluded, and the crowd was beginning to disperse.

"It was luck," Amanda teased her daughter, though she couldn't deny her surprise at your remarkable turnaround.

"We should have placed a bet. We would have won"

"At least I won't have to endure your grumpy face during dinner," Amanda said with a playful smirk.

Leah rolled her eyes as they walked through the crowd.

"Excuse me!" A man's voice behind them interrupted their conversation. Leah's eyes widened as she recognized him. "This might sound strange… but Y/N wants to see you," the man explained to Amanda, who didn't understand the situation at all, her daughter didn’t either.

Leah felt a tug on the arm her mother was holding on.

"Uh-"

"It's Y/N's coach," Leah clarified to her mother.

"And she wants to see me?" Amanda asked.

The man nodded awkwardly. "I wish I could offer more explanation, but Y/N is sometimes unpredictable."

After a moment of contemplation, Amanda flashed a mischievous smile and nodded, gripping her daughter's arm even tighter. "Sure, take us to her."

Leah's heart raced. How was it possible that she was going to meet her crush the athlete she admired thanks to her mother?

Your coach, after a few minutes of walking in silence, led them through a door into a room where you were lying on a couch, eyes closed.

"Hey, Y/N. Your guests are here," your coach announced, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

You quickly opened your eyes and stood up, ignoring the fact that you had just played a two-hour match less than half an hour ago.

You were no longer wearing your visor and your shoes, but you were still in your white uniform with lilac accents. Leah couldn't help but notice that your socks were now stained with clay.

"Y/N L/N" you introduced yourself, extending your hand toward Amanda. Your attention seemed focused on Amanda, oblivious to Leah standing behind her. "I'm introducing myself because I have a slight feeling you don't know me," you said with a smile.

"Amanda," she said, shaking your hand. "Don't worry, I know who you are. A little voice hasn't stopped repeating your name since we arrived in France."

Leah blushed and glanced away.

"Oh," you released Amanda's hand and turned to the blonde, whom you hadn't noticed during either match. "Shouldn't I introduce myself then?" you asked, extending your hand toward Leah.

"No need," Leah said, feeling her mother's not-so-subtle nudge as you extended your hand. "My name is Leah, and I'm a big fan of yours."

"Your number one fan," Amanda chimed in with a smile.

"Mom!" Leah protested, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

You released Leah's hand and turned to Amanda.

"She brought me all the way from England just to see you," Amanda explained, noticing the way you were looking at her daughter.

"England?" you asked, curious about the mention of England.

"Yes, we're from England," Leah confirmed.

"And my daughter is the captain of—"

"Mom, no!" Leah interjected, her cheeks turning pink as she attempted to silence her mother's impending revelation.

You couldn't help but laugh at Leah's embarrassment, finding the exchange amusing.

"Why are we here?" Leah asked before her mother could continue.

"Oh, right," you replied, regaining your composure. "I wanted to thank you," you said, turning to Amanda and clasping your hands behind your back.

"Me?" "Her?" Amanda and Leah exclaimed simultaneously, surprised by your words.

"Yes," You said softly, your gaze shifting to Leah, a smile returning to your face. "Since the semifinal match, I noticed your mother in the stands. Although, it's hard not to see her," you added, gesturing towards Amanda's red hair. "She was the only person in the whole court who wasn't looking at me. Thanks to her, I was able to concentrate and win. It may sound silly but—"

"Oh, don't worry honey," Amanda interjected. "They usually tell me that I bring good luck in big games," she said, nodding towards Leah with her thumb.

"You're an athlete? Sorry, what was your name again? I don't have a good memory with names," you said, this time blushing slightly.

"Honey, Leah is the captain of the England team," Amanda clarified, speaking on behalf of her daughter.

"Oh... Football? Volleyball?" You inquired.

"Yes, football," Leah replied, feeling a flush of embarrassment. She had never felt so embarrassed in her life, not even as a child.

You glanced Leah up and down once more. You had never imagined a football player could dress so stylishly. You found yourself so engrossed in observing Leah's attire that you only snapped back to reality when your coach cleared his throat.

"Well, I just wanted to make sure to thank you for your help, even if you didn't realize it," you said, pulling an autographed tennis ball out of your pocket. "I'm not sure how valuable this is to you, but perhaps your daughter will appreciate it," you added with a laugh, glancing sideways at Leah. "Well, I must be off now, interviews and all that," you explained, walking away to grab your bag. "Hope to see you two at Wimbledon," you said, winking at Amanda before leaving.

The next day, Leah found herself at the airport, keeping an eye on their suitcases while her mother went to grab something to eat. Suddenly, a notification on her phone caught her off guard.

Y/N_kz started following you

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson x you #leah williamson imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader

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pricefieldsuperiority · 3 days

Text

Celebrating All Night

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x fem reader

Genre: Dating, smut

Summary: After a big win, Paige and you have a fun night out to celebrate

Warnings: Smut with plot! Praise, degradation, strap, fingering, going down, aftercare afterwards

It was no secret that Paige loved partying...

Just not as much as she loved you.

After wins, it was a common occurrence to see her and the rest of the Uconn team celebrating at a nearby bar or club. Tonight had been a huge game, Uconn winning by a landslide, and you'd wanted nothing more than to spend an evening partying with your girlfriend.

You were sitting with the team, drinking a Shirley Temple as Paige took shots with KK and Aubrey.

You could tell Paige was getting a little tipsy, but she held her liquor well, so you let her continue on.

Ice was on live, reading out comments.

"Where's Paige? Uhhh-"

You laugh at Ice's look of surprise and then mild disgust when she twists in her chair to look for Paige and the woman herself drapes her arm around her.

"Heyyyy guys!"

Paige rizzes the camera, rubbing her hands together and biting her lip, smiling wide as the comments go wild. She then dances out of view, taking another shot.

The music of the club is loud, and they're playing all the bangers tonight. You feel like dancing, so you get up from your seat.

"Paige- you wanna dance?"

Paige looks at you, towering over you by a few inches. She's wearing a tight-fitting white crop top, abs on full display, and dark coloured cargo pants tonight, with the band of her boxers peeking out. Her cheeks are flushed, from the alcohol, you, or both.

You fumble for her belt loops in order to get her to move, and you laugh when she raises her hands and goes,

"Woahhh Ma, not in public-"

You blush, and she smirks at you.

Paige grabs the belt loops of your jeans, snapping you flush against her hips.

"Come on y/n, lets dance" She whispers into your ear, grabbing your hand, leading you into the crowd.

The lights are going crazy, the bass even louder here. Everyone's dancing, bodies and exposed skin brushing each other.

You laugh as she tries to tell you a stupid joke over the music cause you can't hear a damn thing, but she looks so cute.

Another song comes on, and Paige pulls you against her. Her hands roam over your sides and linger on your ass, squeezing lightly.

You want to kiss her so badly, eyes roving over the plushness of her bottom lip. Her eyes are a vivid blue, even in the flashing lights of the club, dark with desire. Her gaze focuses on your lips as well but she knows she can't kiss you either- not here.

You tease her, getting close to conceal the fact your fingers are dipping into the waistband of her cargo pants. She grabs your hands.

"You wanna go?" She says, already sending a text to KK to let her know.

"Yes.." You say, and with that, she's grabbing your hand again, half dragging you out of the club.

A few minutes later, you're back at her dorm, and once you're inside, with the door shut, Paige doesn't waste a second.

You moan into her mouth as she kisses you, pulling you into her with one hand on your jaw, the other around your waist.

She's needy, and you can feel it with the way she's kissing you so desperately.

Paige's got your dress half off, the thin straps off your shoulders, when you stop her to press her against the door.

You kiss down her neck, the smooth expanse of skin that always drives you crazy.

"Y/n, don't leave a hickey-" Paige says, but can't stiffle the whimper she makes when you bite her, your hands busy unbuttoning her cargos.

"Yeah, yeah, let me hear those pretty whimpers, Paige," You say, biting further down, leaving kisses down to her chest.

"Can I take this off?"

You gesture to her outfit, and she just looks at you with want.

"Yes, of course- can I take your dress off?"

Even though you've been dating for a few months, you both still ask.

"Yes-" The word has barely left your mouth before she's slipping it off you, the material pooling on the floor as you kick it away.

She's kissing your collarbone, leaving a trail of hickeys in her wake.

"My pretty girl" Paige's hands are wandering, pulling you into her again, squeezing your ass.

"Off," You say, pulling her pants halfway down. Paige steps out of them, and you drop to your knees.

"We haven't done it this way yet-" You smirk up at her, and she stiffles a moan at the sight of you between her legs. It never gets old.

You press a finger to her boxers - soaked- and smirk when she begs at your touch.

"Please y/n.. don't tease"

"I know, baby, you're already so wet for me... being such a good girl"

Paige moans at your words, her hips slightly raising.

You take her boxers off and slide your tongue into her folds, relishing the way her hands automatically come down to hold your head.

"Mmmm," You moan at her taste and the position she's got you in, feeling her fingers tangle in your hair, her grip firm.

You sink two fingers into her easily and Paige whimpers as you suck on her clit. Her hips buck into you, grinding down onto your tongue.

"Yes, baby, being so good for me. Fuck my face, just like that-"

You praise her, and you don't need to look up to know she's pink. Paige fucks your face, her hands guiding you as she moans.

"Fuck y/n I'm gonna come, y/n!"

Paige comes, your fingers coated with her slick. You suck them, and she eyes you, pulling you up to her.

Paige kisses you hungrily, picking you up and setting you onto the edge of the bed.

"Does my pretty girl want my strap?" She asks you, fingers on your jaw.

"Yes.. please Paige"

You plead from beneath her and she smirks at your needy tone.

A few minutes later, she's back, her purple strap ready to go.

Pulling off your panties, Paige smirks at your wetness, pushing two fingers in to test if you're ready.

"Please Paige, I need you so bad-" You're begging because it's true- but also because she loves it when you do.

"Okay, y/n.. since you want it so bad.. such a whore for me"

Paige slides the strap in, relishing the way you take her so well. You wrap your legs around her, hands tangled in her hair as she kisses you.

"Paige-" You moan out as she hits your g spot, "please Paige, right there.. don't stop-"

"Not stopping ma"

Paige says, speeding up, her thrusts faster.

She's so turned on by the sight of you being so fucked out beneath her that she almost thinks she could come again.

"Fuck Paige.. please.. please.. I, I'm gonna come"

You clutch at her, nails digging into her back as she fucks you.

"Come for me y/n"

You do just that, shaking as you come on her strap.

You kiss her cheek, recovering from your high.

"Good job baby.. you did so- ahhh-"

Your praise is cut short as she snaps her hips into you, clearly not done with you yet. She kisses you again, biting on your bottom lip.

"Paige- Paige.. I can't take it" You pull away from the kiss to moan at her so deep inside you.

"Shhh, shut up, take it baby. I know you can."

Paige keeps fucking you, and you realize why she's continuing. The strap is hitting her clit at the perfect angle, making her thrusts a little sloppier, a little more desperate.

"Oh baby, you want to come again, don't you? That's why you're fucking me so good-"

You hold her face, watching the way her eyes are glazed over with a bit of satisfaction. Paige always gets so pathetic when she wants to come.

"Yes.. you feel so good y/n" Paige whimpers, fucking you rougher as she gets near her high. You feel yourself close to coming again and even closer when she presses on your lower stomach.

"I'm gonna come Paige-"

Paige moans, the strap rocking against her.

"Come with me pretty girl"

You come together, shaking and glad, and she breathes heavily on top of you for a second before sliding out gently.

Paige cleans you off with some tissues.

"That was so good baby, you okay?"

Paige checks in on you, handing you her waterbottle. She's finding a big shirt for you to sleep in, settling on an old navy Uconn shirt.

"Yeah, I'm good, that was great, love," You say back, giggling as she puts the shirt on over you, ruffling your hair.

"Come cuddleee," Paige whines, and you grin at her.

"You're such a baby Paige"

You settle on her chest, feeling tired but happy.

"No, you're the baby! I bet you're gonna fall asleep first!"

The banter feels familiar. You smile, pressing a kiss against her collarbone.

"I love you, Paige,"

It's Paige's turn to smile, her eyes turning into little crescents as she grins.

"I love you too y/n"

---

Authors Note: Paige fic! Lowkey this was just filth but I wanted to switch it up from the usual fluff. I hope y'all enjoyed <333.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #uconn #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #paige buckets #fanfic #Spotify

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youreverydayfangirl · 2 days

Text

Death By A Thousand Cuts

pairing: lando norris x fretwell! reader

summary: y/n y/ln has always been in love with lando, or in which lando brushed y/n off until its too late

warning: angsty tbh, attempted sa, roofie, swearing

a/n: i like this one tbh, also this takes places over a couple years tbh

Y/n wasn't entirely sure when it happened, whether it was love at first sight or something more gradual, all she knew was she was entirely and irrevocably in love with Lando Norris.

Y/n first met Lando when she was 10 and he was 11. To him she was his best mates little sister. He found her childish and annoying. She found him kind and attractive, although she barely saw him because he was always off karting.

The moment that solidified her crush on the boy was when their families went on their first family vacation together. They had booked a holiday house at the beach for a week during summer. Both families had made there way done the beach.

Max and Lando were playing catch on the beach, chatting about random things, there parents were busy gossiping and sunbaking and Flo and Y/n were swimming in the ocean.

"Y/n sweetie, don't swim out too far please." Her mother called out to her and she nodded back.

"I'm gonna give this to my mom so I don't lose it." Flo said, gesturing to the bracelet her grandmother had given her for her birthday. Y/n nodded in response and watched as Flo ran back ashore, heading over to her mom.

Y/n watched everyone, feeling peaceful. Lando was currently watching Max strike out with a girl who was definitely to old for him and Flo was talking to their parents.

Suddenly she was dragged underwater, getting completely disoriented. Her lungs screamed for air, a burning sensation spreading through her chest. She tried to swim to the top, splashing above the water for a split second before being pulled back down.

Her legs were powerless no matter how hard she tried to kick. Her vision was spotty, she struggled to fight off the black spots dancing in her vision when she felt herself being pulled up above the water and dragged onto the beach.

She fell to her hands and knees and began coughing up salt water, someone holding her hair behind her head. She looked up to see Lando looking down at her worried and annoyed.

"Are you crazy? He asked the girl. Before she could answer her parents came over to her wrapping her around in a towel and fussing over her. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks at how she had embarrassed herself but also at the fact that Lando had come to save her.

Y/n looked at the diy grave she had made. Her pet hamster had died and she was holding a full funeral. The Norris' had come aswell, paying there respects.

"I'm sorry about fluffy Y/n." Lando said, moving to stand next to her. She looked up sending him a small, sad smile and he held out a bouquet of flowers for her. They were scrappy, definitely picked from his moms garden which he would get in trouble for later but the thought counted. She gave him large smile and took them from him before wrapping her arms around him.

"Thanks Lan." She said.

"Its alright to cry you know, you don't have to be strong." He said, whispering into the top of her head before planting a kiss on it.

She began crying into the boys chest and he let her until she felt better.

By the time she was 14 Y/n felt so out of place in their little group. Flo, Max and Lando had all become quite close due to their closeness in age and interests. She didn't feel out of place in the social sense, it was more out of place in life. The boys had karting, Flo had riding but what exactly did Y/n have. She had no clue what she wanted to be, a doctor? A journalist? Something in fashion? She just had no clue.

She felt a nudge in her side and turned to look at Lando whos eyes were trained to the TV. He looked at her, "Are you okay?" He whispered to her. She nodded. "Y/n, tell me the truth." She sighed, Lando could always see straight through her.

"No. Yes. I don't know. Its just, I feel so out of place, all of you guys know what you wanna do and I - I just don't know." Lando snorted and Y/ns eyes shot to him.

"What? What's wrong?" She asked, suddenly feeling very self conscious. Lando felt bad seeing the panicked look on her face.

"Sorry, Its just you shouldn't be worried over something like that. Whatever you end up doing is going to be amazing just like you, don't stress Y/n." He said, sincerity in his tone.

She smiled, thankful that he couldn't see how red her face had gotten and turned to face the tv.

Once she had turned 15 two things were pretty obvious. Y/n was head over heels in love with Lando Norris and Lando wasn't interested, shutting her affections down a million times with the excuse of her being Max's little sister.

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

2015

yourusername has posted

liked by yourbsfusername, maxfretwell and 234 others

yourusername summer 2015 so far

tagged: yourbsfusername, maxfretwell, landonorris, flonorris

maxfretwelll get off instagram your a baby

yourbsfusername LITERALLY SO FUN

→ yourusername I KNOWWWWW

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

Y/n found herself drunkenly dancing with Y/bsf, the girls opting to go to a party instead of staying in. She started dancing with the random guy when she felt herself get pulled away. "Hey." She stuttered out, not coping well with how much she had already had to drink.

"What the fuck are you doing here Y/n."

Lando.

Still, she defiantly crossed her arms, glaring at him. "I'm having fun, what are you the fun police."

Lando faltered at the attitude he got, before glaring at her. "Your too young to be drinking, and your definitely too young to be at Thomas Bakers party." She just rolled her eyes, "I'm sixteen, not a baby anymore."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not." She said again.

"You sure are acting like one right now, now come on." He said grabbing at her wrist but she refused to move. "Where are we going." She asked him, not wanting to move.

"Home, Max is literally going to kill me." Lando responded, trying to grab at the girl but she refused to budge.

"Y/n."

"Lando." She said back to him, "You know I'm not going to move." She stated, Lando raising his eyebrows at this, as if it were a challenge.

"Really?" Lando asked, challenging her right back, she faltered for a second before nodding firmly. He smirked a little, before grabbing at her waist and tossing her over his shoulder.

"Lando? What the fuck! Put me down." She said, people at the party watching but being to drunk to properly care.

"Nope, your going home Y/n." The girl sighed defeatedly, letting it happen. Lando walked over to his car, putting the girl down and helping her into his front seat.

He hopped in and began to drive back to her house. Y/n looked at the window, resting her head against the glass. Once they got home, Y/n saw a familiar figure standing on the front porch. "Really? You had to call Max?"

"Goodnight Y/n." He said, she rolled her eyes, about to exit the car before she decided to plant a cheeky kiss on his cheek before hopping out of the car.

"Y/n get inside now." Max said sternly.

"But I-"

"Inside." He raised his voice, not shouting but Y/n could tell he was mad. She went inside and watched from her bedroom window as Max and Lando talked about something before Lando drove off. She sighed and fell back on her bed, just wanting the day to be over.

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

2016

yourusername has posted

liked by yourbsfusername, maxfretwell and 321 others

tagged: yourbsfusername, maxfretwell, landonorris, flonorris

yourbsfusername oh heyyyy

→ yourusername heyyy

flonorris I LOVE YOU AND I MISS YOUUU

→ yourusername I MISS YOUUU

maxfretwell cringe tbh

→ yourusername loser tbh

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

"Maxiieee." Y/n stumbled out of the kitchen onto the back porch looking around for her older brother. They host was a mutual friend of theirs which is why they had both been invited. The girl was about the fall down the porch steps when an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back firmly onto the porch.

"Woah, be careful there little Max." She heard that familiar voice say. She turned around to face him still slightly dazed and confused, a pout on her lips when his words registered in her head. "Landoo." She drunkenly whined, "I told you to stop calling me that, 'm no little. "

The boy laughed, smiling down at her "Yes you are little max," he teased, smiling before noticing the faint tear tracks on her face. Landos body language changed, worry seeping into his gaze. "Y/n whats wrong?" He asked, brushing her hair out of her face so he could see her more clearly.

"Tom." She said shakily, ready to burst into tears. Lando tensed at the mention of the girls boyfriend , a million different things running through his mind, if she was hurt, if he had hurt her. Lando began checking her up and down, making sure she wasn't injured, once he was certain that she was alright he looked back at her.

"What did he do love?" The nickname slipped out, Lando hadn't meant to say it, it just felt so natural. Luckily for him, she didn't catch onto what he said, her brain to scattered to pick up on it.

"He cheated on me. I walked in on him and some chick." She wailed out, throwing herself into Landos arms, a gesture that Lando was not against. Lando wrapped his arms around her waist, rubbing small circles on her back.

"Oh dove, its gonna be okay." Lando rested his head on her hers, squeezing her tightly before pulling away. "I'm gonna take you to the car, can you wait there for me and Max to come out." He spoke softly, waiting for a nod before heading towards the car. Once he walked her to the car he instructed her to wait there while he went back inside to look for Max.

Max came out of the party, far less drunk than the other two and immediately went to his sister, forcing her to look up at him. "Are you okay." He asked her, Y/n just nodded and quietly mumbled something about wanting to go home.

On the car ride back, with Max driving, Lando opted to sit in the back seat next to Y/n who nearly fell asleep on his shoulder. The drive back was silent, no one feeling up to making conversation. When the car stopped Lando looked down at the girl sleeping on his shoulder, "Feeling better?" He croaked out, Y/n turned to look up at him. She paused for a second, absorbing the moment when she felt bile rise up her throat. She paused, trying to undo her seatbelt, before opening the doer landing on the grass, puking. "Ah shit moms gonna kill me." Max groaned while a pair of hands grabbed her hair in a makeshift pony tail, rubbing her back. "Lets get you inside." Lando said, helping the girl up.

When they got to her room, Lando grabbed her a change of clothes passing them to her. "Put these on, I'll be right back."

Lando came back up the stairs, opening the door to Y/ns room. "Look I need you to - oh shit." Lando said, closing his eyes tightly. The drunk girl turned around to look at him, clad in her bra and underwear. "Landoo, can you please help mee get these offf." She said, still clearly drunk. Lando swallowed hard, cursing whatever God was out there. "You can't get it off yourself." The girl shook her head.

He swallowed, putting the things in his hands down before moving the girl towards him. He ran his fingers up her back, definitely slower than he should have, goosebumps forming on her back at the touch. He reached her bra and unbuttoned it slowly, eyes looking at all of her bare skin. He shook his head spinning around. "Now put you shirt on." She did without a fuss.

He then took her to the bathroom, stating that she would regret not taking it off in the morning and while that was true, he really just wanted more time to hang around the girl.

He grabbed a cotton pad and makeup cleaner, instructing her to sit on the bench as he walked between her legs. He gently wiped her makeup off, Y/n looking up at him, admiring his features. "Your pretty you know that." She mumbled, not entirely meaning to say it out loud.

"Oh am I." Lando said teasingly, a grin making its way across his face. "Mhm." She nodded, Lando wiped the last bit of mascara off before looking down into her eyes. The pair stayed their, Y/n could have sworn he leaned in slightly but the jingle of the front door was heard, Max having returned from dropping his girlfriend off. Lando pulled away quickly, throwing the cotton pad in the bin. "Done." He mumbled, ready to walk out the room and never return.

Y/n followed him out of her conjoining bathroom into her room. "Goodnight Y/n." He said, making his way to her bedroom door as she climbed into bed. "Goodnight Lan." She said, the duvet pulled up to her chin at this point. Lando paused at the door to looked at her, "And Y/n?" She hummed in response, "Next time pick someone who isn't a complete dick okay." He continued before closing his door gently.

Y/n felt her hear shatter all over again, it was just a reminder that no matter how much she wanted to, Y/n and Lando were never going to be together.

The next day when Y/n went to pick up her stuff from Toms she noticed a huge black eye but Tom refused to tell her how it got there.

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

2017

yourusername has posted

liked by yourbsfusername, maxfretwell and 678 others

yourusername officially the big 17

tagged: landonorris, yourbsfusername, maxfretwell, flo_norris_showjumping

landonorris happy birthday little max

→ yourusername your the worst

yourbsfusername besties legal nowww

→ yourusername yayayaya

→ maxfretwell nononono

maxfretwell happy birthday little sis

→ yourusername thanks loser

flo_norris_showjumping YAYYY

→ yourusername YAYAYYAYAYAY

friend1 happy birthday

→ yourusername thank you

friend2 hope you had a fun birthday

→ yourusername i did thanks

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

Y/n sat watching the fire. Her family and Landos were having a bonfire and celebrating Y/ns seventeenth and Lando who was doing really well in his Formula 3 season.

She felt the bench she was sitting on dip and looked to see Lando sitting next to her. "So the big seventeen huh?"

Y/n sent him a warm smile, "Yeah actually, its funny though cause I don't feel older even though I am." She said.

"That's what happens, any big plans for the future." He asked her, staring at the fire. Y/n glanced at him confused for a bit, Lando never really was willing to have proper conversations with her if he could escape it.

"Um yeah actually. I signed a campaign with Louis Vuitton so next month I'm flying out to Paris." She said excitedly, a fond smile crossed Landos face.

"Thats great Y/n, I'm really happy for you." He said, giving her a small nudge which she giggled at.

"How are you holding up Lan." He rolled his eyes slightly at the nickname, it had been something that she had never stopped calling him, despite his protests against him.

"Um alright, everything is going so well at the moment, but I'm kinda scared I guess, like I'm worried its all gonna go wrong and I'm gonna fuck everything up." He said, slightly shaky, Y/n turned to look at him and that was the first time she truly saw him, she could see how broken and scared he was. She smiled.

"The last thing your gonna do is fuck this up Lando, this is your dream, this is what your good at. I know you well enough to know that your not gonna fuck it up." She said, seriously and wholeheartedly which mad Lando believe her.

It was silent for a moment and then Lando spoke up, "Thank you."

"Always Lan."

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

2018

yourusername has posted

liked by landonorris, yourbsfusername and 25, 678 others

yourusername sometimes you need a little break

tagged: landonorris, maxfretwell, flo_norris_showjumping

landonorris no pic creds????

→ yourusername SORRY guys ill just repost this because lando needs creds

→ user1 HELP SHES SO FUNNY

yourbsfusername miss you so much

→ yourusername I MISS YOU MOREE

flo_norris_showjumping y/ns everything and landos just there

→ yourusername don't speak to loudly hell hear you

→ landonorris HEY rude much

user2 whos the man

→ user3 Lando hes y/ns brothers best

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

It had been nearly a year since Y/n had last seen Lando, things had gotten busy with her modeling. The families had decided to go on a beach vacation together, forcing Y/n and Lando to spend the next two weeks together.

Flo had decided that the four of them should go clubbing together, a group catch up or something like that. After not seeing her brother and one of her best friends for so long it was necessary.

"Drink up Y/n." Flo said, passing a shot to her. Y/n downed the shot quickly scrunching her nose slightly.

"Slow down there sis." Max said whilst Lando bit back a grin, snorting slightly.

A while later Max had left the booth to go dance with his girlfriend whilst Flo had wondered off to get more shots. "Hey Lan." Y/n said giggling drunkly, Lando smiled back at her.

"You might wanna slow down on the drinks there Little max." Lando said, acting nonchalant but eyeing the drink in her hand.

"Oh come off it Lan, were here to have fun." She said raising her eyebrows slightly before downing the whole drink in front of him, acting as if it were a competition.

His face changed, into awe and an expression that she couldn't quite place. She smiled slightly before getting more serious, "Lan I-"

"Oh my god Lando?" They both turned to face the girl standing on the outside of the booth, Lando scooting away from her as if he had been burned.

"Alyssa what are you doing here?" Lando asked, shock taking over his face. Alyssa. Y/n felt the bile come up her throat, the burning hot jealousy. The pair started talking but she tuned out what they were saying until Lando turned to face her. She quickly fixed her expression into a smile when he faced her.

"Do you mind if I?" He paused, she shook her head. "No go ahead." She said, moving to leave the booth.

"Y/n you don't have to leave." She smiled, falsely and it was something Lando saw right through.

"Its fine really I just need to go to the toilet." She said, moving to leave again.

"Y/n, wait what were you going to ask me?" He asked her, she smiled at him, heart fluttering at the fact he was paying attention.

"Oh um- just if you wanted another drink." She said, lying through her teeth.

"I'm alright thanks." He said before turning to face Alyssa. Y/n headed straight to the bar, her plan to go to the toilets long forgotten.

"Two shots please." She asked, leaning against the bar.

"Rough night?" Y/n turned to look at a man standing next to her, he wasn't ugly in any sense, but definitely wasn't her type, he wasn't Lando.

She just smiled, muttering something under her breathe before turning back to the counter praying for the bar tender to hurry up.

"What's your name gorgeous." The guy asked, stepping closer, obviously not being very happy with the way he was being ignored. Before she could answer the bar tender came back and she quickly downed the two shots.

"Can I buy you a drink?" The guy asked, clearly annoyed at this point from the lack of response. She turned to him, about to tell him to fuck off when her eyes locked on something, Lando and the blonde. He was smiling at her, looking at her in a way Y/n could only dream of being looked at. She turned back around to face the man, unaware of the eyes that had clocked her and the guy. "Sure." She said with a forced smile and a shaky voice.

Once she had gotten a drink from the bar tender she moved with the guy onto the dance floor. As she danced Y/n noticed a pair of eyes staring daggers at the guy behind him, Lando. She decided to test the waters a little, grinding up against him. Her eyes clocked the way Landos grip tightened around his glass, knuckles going white. She smiled a little and drank the last of her drink. As she took a sip she noticed that she had begun to feel hazy, out of place.

She pulled away from the guy, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom." She slurred out, shaking the black spots from her vision.

She stumbled into the corridor when she felt someone's hand grab her and pin her against the wall. "What are you doing? Stop." She got out, trying to fight the urge to slip unconscious.

"Don't act like you didn't want it slut. The way you were acting, Grinding against me." Her wrapped his hand around her throat and placed sloppy, drunken kissed down it.

"Stop get off me." She said, to weak to push him off. He didn't.

She kept muttering at him to get off when someone ripped him off of her. She sunk to the floor, trying to pick up on her surrounds.

"Lando get off him you've already done enough damage." She heard someone say. Lando. Her eyes locked in on the head of curly brunette hair, punching the guy over and over again, rage present on his face.

"Lando." She called out to him, he stopped instantly throwing the guy down. Two hands came to cup her cheeks. "Y/n hey. Can you hear me." He asked her softly to which she nodded.

"Were going home alright, woah hey stake awake for me love." He said, grabbing onto her as she fought off the spots.

"Your okay." He muttered, more to reassure himself than her.

"Flo hey." Lando said, grabbing onto his sister who was dancing. The girl spun around, face dropping at the barely conscious girl Lando was gripping onto like a lifeline. "I need you to find Max now okay? I'm bringing her to the car."

She nodded and walked off, "I'm just gonna have one word with the bar tender okay? Then we can go home."

He walked over to the bar, "Hey were you the prick who served her." Lando asked one of the bar tenders who spun around to face her.

"I uh-"

"I suggest you keep a better eye out, my girlfriend got drugged because of you." Lando spat out, anger filling him. The bar tender nodded shakily, unsure of what else to do. Lando exchange a couple more heated words before heading over to the car.

His phone rung in his back pocket. "Hey Flo whats up?"

"I can't find Max, do you just wanna take Y/n back to the hotel and we can uber back." Flo said, worried for her friend.

"Okay sure." Lando said before chucking the phone in the back seat. Once he was sure that Y/n had gotten in the car safely he started driving back to the Hotel and Y/n blacked out.

"Y/n" Lando asked softly. "Y/n." He called out more loudly this time, no response. Shit, he muttered to himself, changing the route he was headed.

After sending a quick text to Flo, he sped up taking her to the hospital. When he carried her to the hospital a nurse immediately came over. "My girlfriend was drugged." Was all he could seem to say.

Y/n woke up to a beeping sound, the light was very bright when she opened her eyes. The nurse turned around to look at the girl, "Oh great your up, your boyfriend was very worried about you."

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows in confusion now picking up on the sleeping boy beside her. Once she had finished talking with the nurse she turned to look at the boy beside her.

"Lando." She said nudging him with no response. "Lan." She called out more and the boy shot up awake confused, he quickly got out of his daze when he saw the girl who was staring back at him.

"Y/n." He said, standing up and cupping her face. He stayed there for a moment, but then realised what was happening, where he was and stepped back awkwardly.

"Where's Flo and Max?" Y/n asked, trying to break the awkward tension.

"Oh, um back at the hotel, they needed to sober up and everything." Lando said.

"Oh right. And you stayed because?"

"I wanted to." He said quickly, much to his embarrassment.

"Right." She said, nodding slowly, causing a flush to run through his body.

"How are you?" He asked, clearing his throat, worry taking over his face.

"I'm fine." She said, brushing him off.

"Do you want to-"

"No Lando I'm fine." She said more sternly, causing an awkward tension to rise up in the room. After a moment she spoke up again, wanting to keep a lighthearted conversation with him since they barely talked.

"So girlfriend hey?"

"Fuck off."

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

2019

yourusername has posted

liked by landonorris, yourbsfusername and 283, 686 others

yourusername couldn't be prouder of you landonorris i knew you could do it ✨🧡

tagged: landonorris

landonorris 🧡🧡

→ yourusername GO LANDO

→ user1 HELP shes too cute

maxfretwell Lando gets posted 3 times and i don't get 1 measly slide

→ yourusername sucks to suck

→ landonorris im juts better🤷

yourbsfusername GO ORANGE

→ yourusername actually its papaya

→ yourusername better fruit anyways

mclaren our fav papaya girl

→ yourusername my favourite papaya team

user2 EVERYONE SHUT UP!!! new y/lando lore just dropped

→ user3 no frfr they have to be a couple now just look at them

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

Y/n could hear the click of cameras following her as she headed towards the Mclaren garage. She had come to the Bahrain Grand Prix after missing Landos first due to scheduling conflicts.

"Y/n, its good to see you here." She heard a voice say and turned around to see her brother.

"Maxie." She screamed excitedly, jumping to wrap her arms around him, making him stumble back slightly.

"Easy there, how are you dove?" He asked his sister, pulling back to take her in.

"Pretty good, just exhausted." She said, rotating herself so could lean back against him and watch the track.

"Does Lando know your here?" He asked his sister, noting the familiar hue that still spread across her cheeks at the mention of the boy.

"No, I thought I'd surprise him." She responded, taking in the surroundings. Everything was so much bigger, a vast contrast to what she was used to watching Lando race at. She smiled slightly thinking about how far he had come.

"Hes gonna be really happy to see you, I'm really happy too see you." Y/n smiled up at her brother before looking at her watch.

"I'm gonna go surprise him now before things get to hectic." She said, patting her brothers arm before the siblings split off.

Y/ns eyes went everywhere, taking in her surroundings as she walked into the McLaren garage, eyes finding Lando instantly who was staring at something on his phone. She walked over to him, covering his eyes as she reached him.

"Guess who?" She whispered in the boys ear and he spun around immediately to face her.

"Y/n." He said excitedly, a huge smile spreading across his face as he took her in. Once he felt like he had fully looked over at her to make sure she was really there he pulled her into a tight huge. "What are you doing here?"

"Mf, thought I'd surprise you," She said her voice muffled in his chest, "I'm sorry I missed your first race."

Lando shook his head, "I don't care, as long as your hear now." He said, placing a small kiss on her head.

"Let the girl breathe Lando." Y/n heard someone with a thick accent say and the pair both turned to face Lando teammate, Carlos Sainz. "Carlos, pleasure to meet you." He said, sticking out his hand.

"Y/n." She said, shaking his hand, Landos arm draped protectively around her shoulders. A flicker of recognition crossed Carlos' face.

"Ah, So your the famous Y/n I've hear so much about."

"That would be me, all good things I hope." She said smiling.

"I don't think he could ever say bad things." Carlos said, giving Lando a pointed look. A confused look crossed her face for a second before she went back to smiling.

As she went to say something else someone called the two boys over. Carlos left but Lando lingered for a bit, "Stay here, please, I want to know you'll be here when I finish." He asked her, nearly begging.

"Of course." She said softly, up at him. A smile took over Landos face as he looked at her, quickly placing a kiss on his cheek and a quick goodbye as he was called for the fourteenth time.

"Y/n right?" She spun around to see a pretty girl looking at her, missing the way Carlos nudged Lando before whispering something to him.

"Yeah I am." The girl said blushing.

"I'm Isa, Carlos' girlfriend. Come sit, we can watch the race together."

The two girls sat together, watching the race and chatting although Y/n spent half the time forcing down her nerves. She watched in anticipation as the race came to a close, celebrating when Lando got sixth, his first points in Formula 1.

After everything came to a close, Lando came over to Y/n, wrapping her in a tight hug. She hugged him back tightly, disregarding how sweaty the boy was.

"I'm so so proud of you Lan, you did such a good job today." She said beaming from ear to ear, pulling back to look at him.

"Nothing without my good luck charm here." He said, making a rosy blush make its way across his cheeks.

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

2020

yourusername has posted

liked by maxfretwell, yourbsfusername and 967, 394 others

yourusername conragulations lando 🎉

tagged: landonorris, lilymhe

lilymhe i MISSED you so much

→ yourusername stop i wanna see you again alreadyyyy

yourbsfusername GORGEOUS GIRL OML

→ yourusername STOP I LOVE YOU

maxfretwell missed you by one weeked

→ yourusername I'll BE HOME SOOON TRUST

user1 no lando interaction

user2 something feels off about this one tbh

user3 this seems so forced

user4 SHES LEGIT HIS GOODLUCK CHARM

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

Y/n and Lily walked towards the bar when she felt an arm wrap around her wrist, pulling her to the.

"What the - Carlos?" She asked, confusion and shock present on her face. "What are you doing."

"Your over Lando aren't you?" Carlos asked her making the girl stop and stutter.

"I- How did you- why?" The girl started and stopped, not sure what to say.

"Come with me, we should go find Isa or-" Carlos said, pulling her away from Lily.

"Carlos what's going on." She asked confused, turning around to look back at the Lily, and thats when she saw them.

A gorgeous brunette had her arm wrapped around Landos. She was slim, tall and had a gorgeous smile and made Y/n want to hide in a corner and cry. Its not like Y/n was jealous, she knew she was gorgeous, she was a model after all but this girl ha d something Y/n didn't, Lando. And he seemed infatuated with her.

Lando couldn't take his eyes off her, he was beaming. Y/n watched as the girl grabbed onto his arm, playfully swatting at his chest. Y/n felt like she had been stabbed over and over and Lando was just watching as she slowly bled out. "Oh."

"I'm so sorry, I knew he was talking to someone but I never thought it was serious enough for him to bring her to a race." Carlos said, pity laced in his voice. Y/n shook it off. "No, its fine, I'm fine. I guess I just didn't really think." She said.

She turned around and headed off in a random direction, Lily following behind her. It was at that moment Lando looked up, eyes finding the head of hair that was making its way further and further away and Carlos looking at him disappointedly before shaking his head and following after the two girls.

Lily was rubbing a comforting hand on her back when Carlos caught up with them. "Y/n." He said softly before engulfing her in a hug. She finally broke down, all those years of built up hurt and frustration caused by Lando was all let out.

"I just don't understand why he can't love me, whats wrong with me?" She sobbed, Carlos hugged her tighter.

"Nothing is wrong with you, Nothing Y/n. He's the one with the problem." Lily said so her. Carlos knew that when he had the chance he was going to rip into Lando.

"Why can't I just be happy?"

It had made one thing crystal clear, something that Lando had seemed to be repeating to her for years, he didn't want her. It was time to move on.

Landos first podium felt bittersweet, she gave him a small half hearted hug, but it had become obvious that it was over. This was the last moment for a long while that Y/n knew she would share with Lando, she needed space.

On her way out she accidently walked into to something, someone.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry."

"No its completely my fault, I should have been paying more attention." Someone said to her. She looked up to see a rather attractive man. She recognised him from around the track but they had never spoken before. "I'll buy you a new coffee." He said again.

"You don't have to but if your offering a doughnut with that I might just have to accept." She said to him.

"Of course, wouldn't want you to miss out on a free doughnut now would I." He said, matching her tone.

She smiled up at him, "Y/n Y/ln by the way." She said, sticking out her hand to him.

"I know - I mean nice to meet you, George Russell." The boy stuttered out, blushing slightly.

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

2021

yourusername has posted

liked by landonorris, yourbsfusername and 1, 209, 394 others

yourusername nothing like monaco grand prix guys. so excited to be here and enjoy with those closest to me. ✨

tagged: maxfretwell, yourbsfusername, lilymhe, carlossainz55

maxfretwell always fun with my sister around

→ yourusername RARE!!!! max showing love to his sister

yourbsfusername BESTEST TIME WITH YOU

→ yourusername I KNOWW IT HAD LEGIT BEEN AGES

lilymhe STOP I MISSED YOU

→ yourusername agghffghhgfhfg

carlossainz55 my number 1 supporter

→ yourusername ferrari is legit my bae so...

mclaren 😢😢

→ yourusername IM SORRY

scuderiaferrari our favourite

→ mclaren back off she was ours first

user1 doesn't feel right without lando

user2 wheres lando

user3 i miss lando tbh

→ user4 so does everyone else in the comments tbh

user5 lando camping out in the likes frfr

user6 y/n here means a lando podium

→ user7 no cause shes his good luck charm fr

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

It was the first time Y/n had been to a Grand Prix since Austrias Grand Prix the year before. Monaco was a big deal in the Formula 1 world and she knew it, the glamour, the elegance, it was one of her favourite races for a reason.

The day also marked the first race that she would go to since she started dating George. The pair had decided to keep their relationship lowkey and away from the public eye until they figured out how they wanted to function as a couple.

After meeting at the Austrian Grand Prix, Y/n and George had become good friends. Y/n trying to give herself sometime before jumping straight into a relationship. George was patient, he knew that there was history between Lando and Y/n but didn't push it. He took her out on picnic dates, would make dinner for her and was overall a loving a respectful boyfriend, never pushing her boundaries, he had been the perfect candidate for Y/n to move on.

The pair had gone long distance for a while because of busy schedules, but Y/n had made an effort to come to the first Grand Prix back.

Y/n had organised to meet at the Paddock Club with Lily and begun to make her way over when she bumped into someone.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry." She said, bending down to pick her stuff up. The person helped her and she felt a spark touching his hand as they both went to pick something up. "Lando." She said in recognition.

The boy tilted his head as he looked at the girl, "Y/n? What are you doing here?" He asked confusion laced in his tone. It didn't make sense, Max wasn't there and she only ever went if Max went.

"I came here to watch the race." She said curtly, shooting a small smile, the tone in her voice sounding as though she was saying 'duh.' She began to walk away from him. Lando chased after her confused, grabbing at her arm to make her stop walking and face him.

"Yeah but like why, you never come if Max isn't, you don't like being in the garage alone." She rolled her eyes. Lando felt his heart clench in his chest, why was she acting like this.

"Have you stopped to think maybe I won't be alone, maybe I'm not here for you Lando." She said and Lando felt as if Y/n had personally stabbed him herself. He had never experienced this side before.

Y/n forced herself to look at his face, trying to distract herself from how hot he looked, and how hurt he looked. Lando opened his mouth to say something but a voice called over from the side.

"Y/n." They both turned to see George. He came over and planted a kiss on her cheek, wrapping an arm around her wait. Lando tensed up immediately. "Hey baby." She said, leaning into him slightly, although she felt very tense.

"Lando." George said, nodding towards the man. Lando ignored him, eyes focused on the arm wrapped around her waist, heart hammering in his chest and blood pumping in his ears. When he noticed the look that Y/n had given him he responded to George, venom laced in his tone. George didn't notice but he did sense the awkward tension.

"So you guys are-"

"Dating, its pretty new though." Y/n cut him off, wrapping her hand around Georges which was sitting on her waist. "We very happy."

Lando could pick up on her tone, one telling him to leave them alone. He excused himself, coming up with some bullshit reason to get away. Once he had gotten far enough away Lando turned to watch Y/n and George, she hugged him tightly and placed a kiss to his cheek before walking off.

Lando felt sick. That should be him. He hated George. He hated himself. He didn't understand why he was feeling like this, maybe he always had. He just knew if he cared for Y/n the way he claimed, his heart wouldn't be hurting so much to see her and George together.

Carlos watched the whole interaction painfully. Lando had been in love with her for a while now and Carlos knew it, but Lando had never admitted it. From day one Lando talked about Y/n. How she was caring, kind, one of Landos best friend. He liked her in a platonic way he argued, he just admired how she would always stop to pat random pets, would bring him food after each race, could tell when he was upset. He even admired the way she would bite off the heads of gummy snakes so they wouldn't feel the pain. After Lando had spotted her at the last grand prix he broke it off with his girlfriend. He had argued that it had nothing to do with her he just didn't feel the same way about his girlfriend anymore.

Lando should be relieved that Y/n had moved on, its what he wanted for years. So why did he feel so uneasy about the whole situation?

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

2022

yourusername has posted

liked by georgerussell, yourbsfusername and 1, 586, 986 others

yourusername brazil with my fav

tagged: georgerussell

georgerussell 💙

→ yourusername IM SO PROUD OF YOU

yourbsfusername your so sexy ml

→ yourusername I LOVE YOUUUU

francisca.cgomes my fav

→ yourusername STOP ILY SO MUCH

lilymhe CUTIE

→ yourusername YOUR A CUTIE

mercedesamgf1 OUR FAV

→ yourusername stopppppp

user1 missing the y/lando content so much

→ user2 grow up shes moved on

user3 idk something just feels wrong

user4 anyone find it so interesting that the two races Y/n came to was Landos only podium and a dnf

→ user5 NO FRFR SHE AFFECTS HOW HE DRIVES I STG

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

Y/n wasn't a hundred percent sure how she had ended up there. It was Christmas time and she had brought George home with her. Her family and Landos were doing there annual Christmas celebration and somehow Lando and George both had to be there.

Lando was unable to keep his eyes off of her the whole night, it was getting creepy and he knew it. Max had also noticed Landos borderline creepy staring. Lando had been rotating between pouting like a toddler and not subtle staring through the whole night and Max was sick of it.

"Come grab a beer with me." Max said standing up off the couch.

"What-" Lando started but Max forcibly grabbed him up, pulling him into the kitchen.

"You need to stop Lando, I'm sick of it. You either like my sister or you don't. She's happy and I don't want you ruining it." Max said in a threatening tone.

"What are you - How?" Lando stuttered.

"Its obvious." Max sighed, "Just answer me this and I'll be on your side."

"What is it?"

"Do you love her?" Before Lando could answer Max's question the girl in question walked in. Lando felt his heart jump, she looked gorgeous as ever.

"Interrupting boy time?" She asked teasingly, moving past them to pour herself a champagne.

"No, just grabbing a beer." Max said uncomfortably.

She nodded, "I see how it is." She said, heading back into the living room.

Lando turned back to face Max once she left, not giving Max a chance to speak before speaking up, "I'm so in love with her it hurts me. I need her more than the air I breathe, I need her more than the moon needs the sun. She's everything."

Max nodded, engulfing Lando in a tight hug, the boy bursting into tears. He wasn't a hundred percent sure why, but he was.

Y/n was frozen in her place in the door frame, there it was, the words she wanted to hear her whole life. It wasn't fucking fair. She left with George pretty soon after, making some excuse about not feeling well when really she couldn't be in the same vicinity as Lando.

She was done, she had decided. She was fucking done with Lando Norris.

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

2023

yourusername has posted

liked by yourbsfusername, maxfretwell and 1, 384, 734 others

yourusername life out and about

tagged: yourbsfusername, friend1, friend2

friend1 last night was WILD

→ yourusername not worth the hangover

yourbsfusername never again

→ yourusername NEVER I SAY

maxfretwell are you coming home soon???

→ yourusername if i have time

fransica.cgomes missing my baby

→ yourusername i miss you too

lilymhe HOT

→ yourusername HOTHOTHOT

user1 sorry but shes spiraling

user2 i miss the old y/n era

→ user3 nah this era is the best era

user4 LANDOS IN SINGAPORE ASWELL

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

Y/n had lost track of how many drinks she'd had at this point. She was in Singapore for a modelling event, conveniently Lando was in Singapore for the Singapore Grand Prix.

She had convinced the other girls to go drinking with her, needing to get Lando out of her mind. She was spiraling and she knew it. Ever since Landos confession the year prior she had completely gone out of control. Her and George had a messy break up, not for the lack of trying from George to make things work out. He had finally called it quits when she cheated on him during one of her many drunken escapades.

He wasn't certain but George was pretty sure her completely 180 had something to do with Lando, after that Christmas she had started acting weird. After her breakup with George Y/n completely lost it, going out every night, a million different hookups, everyone close to her knew she was out of control.

They wanted to help but they didn't know how. She didn't listen no matter how much they tried to shut it down. They all just wanted her to get better, to feel better. This lead them to hear, at a random club in Singapore. With much reluctance she finally convinced her friends to go out with her.

Y/n swung her hips to the beat, leaning against some random guy. He was her prey for the night she had decided. She turned around to face him. "I'll be right back." She whispered in his ear, heading over to the bar, aware of his stare on her ass as she walked away.

"Another shot." She said the bartender when someone slide next to her.

"Can I get a whiskey please." A familiar gravely voice asked. It couldn't be. The girl turned to look at the guy standing next to her. Lando.

The boy felt someone's gaze on him and shot a glance to the side before double backing. "Y/n." He whispered her name out like a prayer, like something had saved him.

"Norris." She sent him a tight lipped smile. Lando could hear his heart shatter, the indifference was killing him.

"What are you doing hear." He asked her.

"Just a modelling gig. Thank you." She said to the bar tender before taking the shot, making Landos eyebrows raise in surprise. "Look I have to go but it was great seeing you."

Somehow Lando could tell that it was insensire.

Y/n had felt Landos eyes on her all night, she basked in it but also hated in. It was so conflicting. She had bumped into Carlos one her way back to the dancefloor and they had talked for a little while.

The dudes hands started to explore her body, running up her chest to cup at her boobs. She embraced the feeling, imagining it was Lando instead. The guy began to kiss down her neck and she lifted her hand to grab at his hair when all of a sudden he was pulled away.

"What the fuck." She turned around to see Lando holding the guy and yelling in his face. "Lando what are you doing." He ignored her. The dude pushed Lando off him.

"Fuck this shit, this pussy isn't worth it." The dude said, Lando went to chase after him but she held him back.

"What is your problem Norris." She yelled at him in his face, not caring who was watching.

"What's my problem? Whats your problem Y/n. And can you stop with the Norris, what happened to Lan or even Lando? When did you start hating me." He said, emotion thick in his voice.

"Hate you? I don't hate you I just really fucking sick of being treated like shit. I loved you Lando, and you just lead me on for years. I got sick of it, of you never doing anything." She screamed at him, Lando deflated slightly.

"Loved?" He asked her. She rolled her eyes, stepping away from him.

"I'm done listening to this bullshit." She said, walking off, he pulled her back to him.

"You still love me. I know you do." He said, taking step closer.

"No I don't, I don't want you anymore Lando." She said, her resolve crumbling.

"If you didn't you wouldn't have been dancing with some other guy, trying to make me jealous." He said, pausing slightly. "Tell me, were you imaging my hands instead of his, wishing it was me." He whispered, Y/n felt a flush break over her because it was true, she felt like she had been caught red handed.

"Come on, baby, you miss me, I know you do." He said, pulling her chin up lips closing in on hers.

Y/n was in a daze, breathing in the familiar smell of his cologne after so long without him. All of a sudden she felt herself get pulled out of the trance she was in. She pushed him off, Landos gaze filtered in confusion.

"You know what I'm so done with you. Of course you want me now, I'm trying to get over you Lando, I need to get over you." She said, her voice breaking a little. He wanted to grab her, hold her, apologise.

"What if I don't want you to." He said.

She completely stepped back, tears in her eyes.

"Fuck you Lando Norris."

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

a/n: tbh did not spell check this so it might be completly shit also tell me why it took me a whole week to write this and also ignore if timeline is completely wrong - 8K words which is insane

#formula1 #f1 masterlist #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris angst

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tottentz · 2 days

Text

𓂃 ¡ #YOU BEGUN TO FEEL LIKE HOME ── honkai star rail ?! 🗯️‹3 𓂃 ˒ ʿʿ ❛ you taste like nectar and salt and apples ❜ 🗝 ﹢を ˒ㅤ

ֶָ֢⊹𐙚 WARNINGS ! gender neutral reader, reader is shy-ish, just tooth-rutting fluff drabbles, with a sprinkle of angst ( if you squint ), and ( mutual ) comfort, very to little mention of injuries on aventurine's, boothill's and blade's part, mention of sleep deprived reader, i don't specified any mental issues, but i do describe readers struggles which could be identified as anxiety. ♡ˎˊ˗

jing yuan .ᐟ

"please, you can keep it."

jing yuan couldn't help but wonder what it was in particular that overwhelmed you... but then, he understands. couldn't stand being cooped up inside for everyone to gawk at.

"are you sure you won't miss in it at all? that's not to say i mind—i'd be happy to keep it."

a soft – ' ' uh - huh ' ' follows the gentle flutter of your ears , quiet gesture of reassurance that you are still listening very intently so. you are thoughful for a moment, nose scrunching as you pour your energy into trying to remember something.

but once your attention returns, it's with a solemn shake of your head. "general, i trust you would take care of it. it's okay".

his mouth open part to speak at least once, but he once more loses his thought before it catches on his tongue. how odd, for he is never had any problem finding a thousand things to say, even if none if it particularly made any sense.

"it's a music box," you tapped the box in jing yuan's hand, "i wanted to give you something"

eyes that glow a honey hue remain transfixed on you, investigating every detail of how you present yourself, "how so?"

watching jing yuan's shoulder go slack with the next chug he took, you hummed, "it sort of remains me of you"

it's the most lively you are appeared since he knew you, pacing back and forth, speaking through the previous sorrow to find something that fires you up. and maybe it's an easy way to get you off the topic of yourself, something you still finds no comfort in sharing.

jing yuan stared down at the box, then you. looking / longing / slipping like sand through his fingers. not anymore. not anymore.

jing yuan lunges── lunges for the familiar hand, heart freezing somewhere between his chest and his throat because— it was unintentional?

the feeling was familiar, one that he had organically all the time when thinking of you. it was the one that he shoved down over and over again around you, yet craved more than anything. and here you were, unknowingly returning it to him. you hadn't intended it to be shared and you had no idea you even did.

what could he say to that? when he's been in rhythm with you for so long── he can see the telltale cracks in your smile, now forcing his hands to twitch around the box. the consuming sensation was all of that goodness and more, it was hot, fiery as it ripped through him, completely unignorable. filled with relief and joy and love, the warmth of your embrace enveloping and safe. / — oh

it was you.

the moment he realized it, that all of that sensation was you feeling, something began to broil in the apex of his chest, rolling and all-consuming. the feeling washed over him again, equally as wonderfully crushing.

" it's surprisingly easy to tell you are different, after all. i mean── " a halfhearted wave at the walls warping around them, laughter present in his voice," not everyone can do this." a pause, a deliberate deliberation, before the master of masters continues." i think you're special."

oh, but he'd never be satisfied with that answer. maybe he's blown it already, so jing yuan continues, switching the subject / shifting his attention away, if only for a moment.

he reaches out to hold your hand, gently tugs you close and leans forward the phantom touch of warm skin beneath his fingers. and for a moment, he wonders how many hearts, indeed, were connected to you.

( where those connections might lead him── how vast that web could be── jing yuan reigns himself in as he'd learned, as he'd been taught. not yet. not yet.)

"come, dance with me. i have gone too long without dancing, and it is no fun doing it alone." such a delighted giggle to mirror yours, eyes glowing in an excitable manner.

"oh, i would adore nothing more than to dance with you." there is always grace in your movements, more so now as he squeezes your hand and bounces from one foot to the other in anticipation. "only if you promise not to make fun of me when i do not know all the moves–"

aventurine .ᐟ

"i think you're kinder than you think you are,"

you say, and it's an unsettling statement but — but what else does you have to give him? She seems to wake up, a bit more. "i'm less lonely, since you came. that's kind."

aventurine turns away from you and your untouching hands, as if the honesty was too brutal to bear. perhaps there is some emotion left in him after all── the thought unsettles him. the thought disgusts him, but he says nothing of it.

"don't trip over yerself romancin' me like this, you are gonna make me blush. " still, playful on the surface though it may be, there's a decisive undercurrent of seriousness to his question – he's picked up in the months past that the subtle mimic is their way of acting coy. he expels a breath (making like he's sooo scandalized ), only to offer up a knowing smirk of his own in return, pitching forward in silent invitation. "if you really must know, i was hoping you'd make the first move."

"oh." it's a surprised sound. you turn towards aventurine, eyebrows scrunched like you don't know what to say / you don't know how to phrase it.

his hand twitches in your hold, but aventurine does not pull away, lets you examine his hand. "did you make the first move on this, too?. " the story of which, he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to tell. isn't it easier to shy away── switch the narrative? he's good at that. aventurine has always been disgustingly good at that.

" if i wanted something casual, i would run it by you a little sooner. didn't think this, " he flicks his hand– or rather, the distinct cut across his palm. another debt, another mission, it doesn´t matter, you never asked anyways. " needed clarification. i thought i was being obvious. " but he has to remind himself you hadn't actually seen how aventurine acts around others – nor witnessed how easily his boundaries are set. he continues, amending: " not playing around, officially. maybe i wanted you to crush me "

your breath stills, feeling the coolness of his hand brush alongside your skin... you dared to steal a glance, even if just for a second.

"crush you, huh...? " you take his hand in yours, soaking in every little nick and crack there was. his hands were rough, but never with you. you absently rubs you thumb over his knuckles, wondering where this confession came from. "i think having a crush on you is just enough."

the gesture of affection catches him by surprise / very little succeeds in taking him off guard, and he's startled out of his deep reflection with a jolt.

there's── such rage, in his chest, in every bit of his body. aventurine is angry, so angry, he feels like he'll burst. but you offered, smiling up at him with an expression that wiped any variation of the word "no" from his dictionary.

you gently trace over the back of his hand, half-lidded eyes unable to meet his gaze. it's the age old ache, too scared to share your stories... something you know all too well. you close his palm. "you can always tell me if it's too much. don't push yourself, 'kay?"

a chirping something, dulcet and winking; allows the endearment 'gainst back of hand with the way of firt times. there's a noticeable shift in the air, the entire mood of the atmosphere changes as a wave of warmth rolls over. quiet, stillness, all but for boothill who caused it.

aventurine watches── his hand relaxes into your hold minutely, but does not comment. unlike the burnt and healed flesh on your lower back, this, still, retains some sort of sensation. " alright, " he says, but there's the faintest glow on his hues. " as long as you don't push yourself either. "

dr. ratio .ᐟ

veritas has a soft spot for you. implicit, but it's there.

veritas knows you need it as much as he need to know you're doing okay, because his obligation is to save you from the cause of your torment; yourself.

he's always subtle, silent; lets his hands communicate for him. veritas languidly reaches to brush the tips of his fingers behind your ear, momentarily tucking a lock of hair that would continuously unfold as if to spite him.

drool sheens the parted corner of your mouth, and your hair is akin to the mane of a lion's. you had told him you hate when he keeps staring while you are sleep, but he has to admit, the way he's seeing you right now is one of his favorites. his gape is pillared; fixated and immovable from your visage. veritas ratio finds himself enthralled with a work of art.

his fingers rouse through your knotted locks, thumb prodding into your temple and stroking soothing lengths into the dimpled flesh as you're muttering incoherent speech, and veritas finds himself amused again.

your slumped shoulders no longer quivered a while ago, but the needful grasp of your hands remained adamant as to maintaining a tight clench around his torso. he had sheltered you in his arms, devoid of warmth, his caress is cold. his wintry touch induces an outbreak of goosebumps, but the sensation eases the itch to your body, and the comforting chill is akin to balm.

you have yet to awaken, limbs wildly splayed as your temple nestles snuggly into his neck. veritas rests a heavy palm onto your crown, soothingly stroking his palm over your head as you sigh against his soft skin in bliss, already lost to a slumber he coaxed you.

his thumb trails along your side, and he doesn't hesitate his assault even when you grumble protests from your sleep.

"stop," you mumble, cheeks hollowed and lips ajar "five more minutes." you hardly discern his figure through your lidded gaze, but your skin singes where you maintain contact

hushed snores, faint and distinct, softly rumble beneath the tower of blankets where you sleep. you're snuggled impossibly close, temple pillared atop his chest.

right from the start, you knew veritas wasn't one to be overly physically affectionate. it's not that he hates it or is cold, he simply isn't used to it.

occasionally, however, he feels the need to be near you. loves the way you immediately step closer into his personal space and squeeze his hand back, not saying anything about this rare display of affection.

he's not easy to love, but he's worth the effort.

he loves so endlessly, with unfiltered promises of something that lasts beyond forever. he pays attention to every last detail, reads in between the finest of prints, his mind is always filled with you, from the bottom to the top, up to the very brim. his eyes miss nothing, and his intuition has honed itself to map you out in every way.

"don't be daft. some of us can't afford to slack off and forgo our regular daily structure." he says instead and watch, in amazement, your hazy, small smile. the defensive undertone in his voice almost makes you laugh again. is the same tone that people use when talking to four-year-olds. and a very familiar tone that means he's humoring you.

"but i can, see?" you whisper, with a cheeky grin in your face that tells him you are not sorry at all, before vertias stabs you in the liver with one of his unreasonably pointy fingers without even looking.

you wheeze before you could stop it. frown on your face, you clutch at your side. you are pretty sure this is what being shot by an arrow feels like. you try to you punch his shoulder as lightly as possible as you go, but veritas dodges you without blinking because he's actually an robot. you huff in complaint.

"do that again and i'm not coming near you for the next week" you croak before you manage to sit up ungracefully, forced to bend your legs in a way you're sure no human was meant to attempt.

"don't be so spoiled." he hums in appreciation, because he knows you are lying, so he extends his arms in your direction, and soon you were wrapped in his arms again, leaning into his chest.

the fleeting reaction bridged your skin as if wildfire. you have things to do soon, but neither of you made a move to pull away from where veritas protectively caged you. unconsciously pressing his hand on your back were your steadily beating heart is.

veritas has the incredible ability to squeeze into any space, as long as you are there.

his actions aren't fast, his hugs not the kind to be quickly dismissed. many of the times he lets you sink into his chest as he holds your waist with his free arm, pulling you as close as he possibly can. he makes sure that when he pulls away; he gets to see that dopey grin on your lips.

he has you, he affirms, right here. veritas has no desire to abandon his home in your arms.

boothill .ᐟ

boothill tends to break.

a matter of fact. your mind had stored a quite lengthy recording of your own voice yelling afterwards. ("what do you mean boothill lost an arm!?"). the series would repeat until heavy exhales began to breeze past the split of your parted lips.

other times him successfully erecting a melodious laugh to befall your lips despite there's half of his body missing and you are borderline in tears, but all common human sense has gone out the window and died a sad death on the street below before a semi ran over it at full speed and that metaphor got gruesome quick, which means you have been spending too much time around boothill and his drama.

what else is new, though? other than boothill being romantic and, hell, boothill being romantic, without even meaning to be.

he carries your work stuff as insignificant as it could be, wrap an arm around your shoulder when you're cold, hovers you over his shoulder any time you are feeling tired (theres no need to), let's you cling to his arm (and feels so proud when you do), keeps an eye on you to prevent hostile glances, holds your hands from behind when you're trying to play with his gun, he is oh so careful whenever he wants to initiate a kiss and enfolds a hand around your neck and gentle pull in his direction before he lets your lips collide with his cheek.

you know he is romantic even when he thinks he's being so slick— so smooth doing that. he wants to think he doesn't look like it much, therefore he's very much in love with your physical affection. you had fixed boothill up with efficient, gentle hands. you'd done it all with a frown and no shortage of eye-rolling, but you'd done it.

but boothill is romantic where it counts, too. are the gifts pretty? yeah. do you look good in his clothes? you look good in everything. he's romantic, and it's because he thinks about you all the time. because you run around his mind, looking at him with both eyebrows raised everytime boothill abruptly discovers he's staring blankly at you with his mouth partially open and pressing a kiss to his jaw for good luck before a mission like he means something. he's romantic because he knows it takes work to keep you almost as much as you know the way he breaks.

even in the non-literal manner.

"somethin' happen" you whispered into the quiet room, silence present and actively eating away at your spoken acclamation "be gentle with yourself, you deserve better."

it could be accurate, considering the place was pitch black. you hadn't even changed your attire clothes, you couldn't even recall how long you laid on the couch of your house before losing consciousness and after feeling boothill heavy body looming over yours, nestled between your legs with his face in your chest and close to your heart.

boothill is huge, menacing and colossal, he could easily reduce you into a timid clump of cowardice that writhes beneath his hold, but you like it too, the weight of him over you is comforting. he is careful about crushing you, anyways. most of the time.

he growls, your heavy lids fought against the descending motion the soft rumbling that his chest made against your skin. occasionally, you would crack open an eye to peek at the time and perk an ear to listen for any indication he is having a malfunction. just in case. (what do you mean boothill lost an arm!?). your gaze travels from high to low, optics seeking a source to distract yourself from the weight of his awaiting stare.

"what do ya think i deserve, sweetheart?" his voice is slightly muffled againts yor skin. it makes him sound much more worn out, you guess. and somewhat mocking, in any case.

boothill never has efficiently voiced whatever nonsense clutters that tireless cranium of his, but he acknowledges your pain as his own. your lips drawn south, boothill drums his hand past your uniform and into the flesh of your waist, shrugging under the cold metal fingers with a gasp. he requires reassurance no more than you.

"c'mon, let me-" you tried to push yourself up using your elbows, but his palms are slide down to snug at your hips with an immovable weight, heavy and pillared, to prevent your escape, as if you though of leaving him.

"you're a little nuisance, aren't ya?" he rambled. spilling whatever random scene were to display beneath his eyelids. you had a sneaking suspicion that he was just about running on autopilot.

hitting your head in the cushions again, your hands meekly settled upon the length of his shoulders, eyes scarcely searching for vibrant grayish tones, split from his stare whenever he smugly simpered at your expression of coy.

you try to get up again, but he takes advantage of the opportunity and nestles his face into the delicate skin of the crook of your neck. it almost makes you giggle. one of his arms wraps around your waist a little tighter while the other skirts around your shoulders to cradle the back of your head. you smell of fresh cotton, vanilla, and mint, and boothill can feel his circuits go foggy.

your gazes don't meet- he doesn't want to be seen. he doesn't want you to see him. not right now.

yet you understand why, he doesn't have to tell you, either; because he feels so heavy like this that you can't bring yourself to care, so you keep your lips thinned and sealed, and instead you caress his back and hold him, patronizingly brushing his scalp.

the idea of it was hard to swallow, that you really and truly cared so much about him. but god, if he didn't crave it. if he didn't yearn for it with every bit now that he finally surrendered to it. it was easier to sink than swim, and you was a pleasant ocean to drown in.

sunday .ᐟ

he knows how this works, half of the time.

you always greet him with a smile an sunday thinks it's his favorite way to start the night after a long day of work. regardless of how tired he feels, the moment you step into the room he starts looking for you. usually, he finds you lying in bed, just about to fall asleep.

sunday stands there for a moment, smile stretching his lips as he admires your beauty, before finally approaching you. takes your hand in his with such tenderness it brings a mirroring smile to your face. bows solemnly before you so he can press his warm lips to your knuckles, and stays like that for a moment. wordlessly. basking in the sheer devotion he feels for you.

"i missed you today," he mumbles as sits down next to you and leaves a peck on your cheek.

and like any other day, you bring his hand to your lips, pressing a kiss into the palm of his hand that lingers even when he moves his hand away, chuckling with fondness.

"i can tell," you whisper, and he involuntarily fumed each time you hold his face in your hands, palm resting on his cheek as your thumb traces little circles there. face flared scarlet and encased with a ring of heat, sunday's flustered disposition was hard to pass. his heart pattered at an unbelievable rate, and he was sure he had been painted crimson from the tips of his toes to the curvature of his round ears.

he could spend hours like that, just looking at you, committing your everything to memory so that when the night falls and you're not by his side, he can vividly reminiscent your hours together. sunday gulped away his nervousness, optics dancing around the room to locate a suitable distraction. he guaranteed he would lose composure in a matter of dwindling seconds.

"you look tired." your voice tickled his ears like the blown tune of wind chimes. when you wrap your arms around his neck and drag him to lie down next to you.

he was aware of how this worked. he has known you for years now, of course he knows what he's doing, but he can't help but play dumb when you wrap your arms around his neck and drag him to lie down next to you. his hand on your thigh. yor mouth had been moving, but no sound encountered sunday's auditory sense.

he jittered anxiously, bounding his knee from his wide-legged seat. he peered at the kneeled girl, eyes slightly unfocused and heart pounding no slower than it previously had been. [yn] hooked a finger towards herself, a coy smirk smugly pinned onto her crinkled cheeks. she swore she'd win again. she promised him another victory in her name before adjusting where she were, spine pressed to his chest and head snuggly lulled beneath his shoulder.

he was aware of how this worked, in the morning, in the morning he would get up early, only to have to say goodbye to your sleeping figure before facing reality, but success possessed scant significance to the enamored man. he since convinced himself that he has already won. content with the belief he had already acquired millions with you who lovably curled into his arms, his lids framing pools of fondness garnered by himself. defeat unquestionably withheld hardly any importance. sunday had achieved the trophy at the end of his own race; you amounted to no earthly claim.

and maybe it is scary / too scary to ever go through / too scary to ever allow to happen again. he doesn’t think you are fragile – moreso, he knows you aren't. can’t be, at least not in the ways humans are, and he also knows that this inhuman fragility that isn’t fragility at all is what drew him to you in the first place. it’s the closeness of you that undos him, ultimately.

he buries a his face into the skin of your neck, muffles the throatiness of it with an inhale as his hands seek purchase in the hook of your waist, palms coming to rest on your lower back, mapping out the jut of bone. you aren't fragile by any means, by any human means, so sunday is gentle with you in the ways humans can’t be, because while you aren't fragile – aren't , you deserve to know you are precious nonetheless.

your name is a spoken whisper followed by a controlled exhale—“welcome home. ”

blade .ᐟ

blade likes to believe that, after all these years, he's grown immune to your charms and beauty.

he likes to pretend that his heart doesn't race when he sees your smile or hears your laugh, just the way it did all those years ago, when your love was just starting to bloom and everything felt brand new. that he doesn't feel like bursting into song whenever you say his name in that same tone that's always awoke the butterflies in his stomach and brought pure and warm devotion to his eyes.

it's become second nature to him.

still, there's only so much his poor heart can resist when you're looking so beautiful. he always fails, anyways.

the pitter patter of the rain does little to drown out the rapid beating of blade's heart, hammering against his ribcage and threatening to carve its way through his chest. there's nothing it can do to put out the flames you've lit in his soul as they continue to burn it all in their wake, until everything outside this moment, standing with you in the rain, his heart bared for you to hold, is reduced to nothing but ashes, a barren soil from which you emerge, a flower that blooms against all odds.

"you are staring." the way your laugh quietens down as you gaze at him, soft smile persisting in your lips, is breathtaking.

your eyes seem to shine in a way that has his breathing faltering; and when you lean in closer, he swears his heart is ready to burst out of his chest and into your hands

yeah, he is staring.

blade gives an audible hum, her eyes flashing with confusion and something akin to embarrassment. his mouth opens just a little. probably he wasn't specting you to come along. you suppress both a sigh and a smirk as blade looks the other way

at that, you raise an eyebrow. "your hand. do you not require assistance, blade?" your voice is nothing short of regal, and blade gapes for a second before she huffs.

"i can do this for my own," he says. his tone is reverent and wondering, and you has to physically clench your teeth to keep from sighing, again.

"it's more easy this way" you say as you hold out your own hand as an invitation, pulling an embroidered silk handkerchief from the sleeve of your outfit, blade glances furtively over at you.

he still radiates tireless energy, yet somehow, even so, you can feel that he is not mad or angry, is not truly irritated. he is mad, but only with himself. in his moment of thought, your fingertips wander and accidentally brush against blade's hand.

cool.

you almost jumps at the contact, but you are so well trained in the art of masking emotions that you do not so much as flinch. you carried on steadily cleaning the blood. blade, however, is an entirely different case.

he jerks, lips parting in question. "what are you playing?" he seems to choke, blinking a few times.

"is there a problem, bladie?" you asks- quietly, though. you cannot bring yourself to be firm right now, not when you are breathing the same air as blade and your fingers still remember the coolness of blade's hand.

red eyes bite into you, questions and bewilderment plain in them, but then he just shakes his head and growl.

"no, just finish already" the signs might not be all that visible to most people, but to you, they're instantly noticeable.

on his lips were words lost to time as his tongue sat heavy in his mouth, motionless and frozen as he couldn't grasp a retort that were sure to reduce you to a state similar of his own. you nod and thinks to yourself that blade really is like a lake, his emotions crystal clear on the surface in a way that belies a complicated, tangled personality. yet just one tiny pebble, one little act of kindness, can send ripples through him.

you hope you are the only person throwing pebbles into the lake.

there's a certain familiar tightness to blade's hand, the slightest tilt of vast irritation to his eyes. you can read him, all his little burning mannerisms, and you know at your core, blade is a raging, smoldering star, sweltering underneath the masks he's been taught are natural.

"can i kiss you?" you whisper, almost too low for hear. there's fire there, fire that's almost been smothered, but can be encouraged back to life when occasion calls for it.

it's there, it's real, and you knows it, although he doubts anyone else truly does.

gape descending towards the glossed mounds of your nude colored lips, blade anxiously swiped his tongue across his bottom lip, eyes flickering towards the fixed stare pinned onto his expression of desperation. your stoop depicted what desire you hoped to transpire.

blade breaths a heavy snort through his nose, shaking his head as if you should have known to take initiative. "if you don't, i'll do it myself." the sly grin that tugged the crinkled corners of his lips split into a smile, his healthy hand danced along the supple skin beneath the side of your jaw.

drawn in as if pulled by the magnetism of earth's gravitational pull, the couple tenderly press against the other, lips interchanging a delicate lip-lock as stars blinked at their action, the flittering of their various light raining upon them as if a smile from the aeons.

the glide of their lips persevered until they broke for breath. their chests heaved with exhaustion, but a contrasting expression of triumph remained in the shape of your smile, though something falters, sly smile slipping from your cocked smirk of feigned aplomb as your chest palpitated; skipped more than a couple of rhythmic beats.

"what-" it's at that moment, when you are thinking of a blade clad in injuries and spiritual pressure, that blade's hand brushes lightly against your spine.

warm.

you jump, startled beyond measure, and make a choking sound, as if you didn't seem to have noticed his trailing fingers.

"what?" speechless; at a loss, you suck your bottom lip between your teeths as you clumsily fumbles with your wringing hands.

blade gawps before he lets a low chuckle before he makes you sink into his chest, near to leaving you breathless. you had gasped as if stumbling upon treasure before you clumsily grips at his shoulders with a child's enthusiasm.

"this wasn't the point" you stutter inelegantly, and blade blinks with blank stare of melting ice and thawing snow. you can feel flames beginning to rise in your cheeks, and you swears internally."cheeky." you say, but didn't dare to move, snaking an arm around his body and presses even closer.

he is okay, this gentle and soft thing, the featherlight feeling of being able to share your pain with someone who's a familiarity, someone who cares.

argenti .ᐟ

argenti loves you.

in a tender (and embarrasing) way you couldn't hate; from the dopey grin, the biggest, happiest wave whenever he sees you from across the room, argenti is evidently smitten.

you already knew, sort of. he wasn't the subtle one, anyways. but you weren't the qui vive type either.

maybe it was easy, you supposed, to pick up on your mood as easy as it was to notice argenti's green eyes are much more brighter when the light bounces off him. he'll smile at you, soft voice greeting you. maybe he was just overly friendly, with the way he held your hand as though you're the center of the universe-and he's just some random dude caught up in your gravitational orbit. maybe you were a little too hooked up in his fondness that it hurts.

how he loves you, did everything he could to hear the sweet bells of your laughter and see your smile. how he hug you every single day, he emanated a sort of warmth that didn't feel artificial despite the armor, almost like an embrace that was only second best in comparison to one of the bear's actualhugs. the soft, constant ticking of his voice like a soft lull soothing you into a relaxed, sleepy state.

argenti never let you go home upset, and he always take the time you needed to be comfortable with speaking your thoughts. he knows the way you like your food, the music you prefer so he can hum them when you are feeling particulary nasty, the rose that you love and that he never forgets to bring you on each of his journeys. he knows everything, doesn't he?

"are you alright? you seem a little off. shall i escort you to a first-aid station?"

the voice echoes somewhere near inside your skull, and you snap. all hope for sweet words is thrown out the window entirely, blood thrumming through your veins like electricity.

you whip your head up so fast you could feel something cracked uncomfortably to see none other than argenti's soft, green eyes staring at you with something akin to worry. you hum quietly, slowly dragging your gaze to argenti's cheek.

"just peachy" you can hardly settle your nerves. you uneasily inhale and seek resolve, exhaling the timid emotion with a shaken sigh "you are ready to go. that scratch should not take long to heal"

you back off, the corners of your lips tremble, quiver and quake, as he lifts up. argenti has the ability to look so grateful even if you have only disinfected a scratch in a way you were lowkey successfully diverted every single time.

"i am... truly sorry. it appears it's it's time for my departure, but i would hate to leave you by yourself..." argenti's sad voice always makes you feel in a way that suggests you enjoy throwing puppies into traffic, and argenti was a particularly kicked one.

how a person could sound so apologetic is going to be your biggest question, (was it your fault?), but you don't feel out of place; you wonder if you're supposed too. you wonder it again and again.

"i'm feeling ansty, argenti. i'm not going to die or somethin', s'okay" you suck in a sharp breath when argenti's face went through ten shades of griefs in five seconds at the solely thought of you getting hurt.

"still, i fear for your well being. i can stay with you as long as you need to." kind, glowing green eyes almost looked apologetic, only cementing the gnawing anxiety in your stomach. you chew the insides of your cheeks until it aches.

"would you?" you ask, trying to ignore the continual light shaking of your hands. you choke up as if displayed before a monstrous live audience, mouth dry and throat bobbing.

of course. obviously. you are his exception, to every rule he'd had made for, for every boundary that was so necessary to never cross. he is argenti, who calls you his rose in such a genuine, proud way that made you feel important, because he always mean it. argenti, who asks about your day but that's neither here nor there when he's looking at you like the moon. argenti, no matter how big and renowned and revered he becomes, he cares for you in every shape and form.

charmed and ensnarled, you made a motion for the man to lean over, which he obliged, and you hold argenti's face with warm hands, palms burning; hot and clammy as your racing pulse pumps wildly, resting on his cheek as your thumb traces little circles. he sighed of bliss, fluttering his lids as if his current placement had been an alleviation to any source of his conflicts.

his expression warmed your heart until overwhelmed. rhythmic pattering of his breath soothed the ache of your head, your eyes almost closed when he started raking his fingers along your own hands. you bring your face closer to targenti's until his forehead collided with your own. it's a kind of comfort, a subtle one, for both.

"it's okay. i need to get back to work and you spread beauty across the cosmos!" your mind run a mile a minute, but the smile hung from your lips didn't falter. argenti looks a little less torn, still holding concern in his eyes.

"i'll always be worrying about you, dear, no matter what..." argenti nuzzles his nose into your crown. "but i do trust you. let us meet up as soon as we are able to."

with a fluttering heart drumming within the swell of your chest, you tossed your hands into the air, throwing your head with a breathy laugh.

"sure!"

the man returned his smile as much as he was physically able to, then he made eye contact with you in front of him one last time.

"please promise me you'll be safe." his expression visibly softens at the contact, smile mirroring yours

"i will, i will."

with one last fond look, the man turns around, his soft, clanking walk following him as he went. emotions were fickle things, and only made a person unstable, irrational.

"uh-huh, and by the way, argenti!" you gulp when you find yourself center of his focus once his head turn around, but your gaze harbors riotous determination. maybe you just want to be irrational for once "i love you"

and he absolutely lights up. his smile is so bright it's nearly blinding, the vibrations of his own laugh almost feel like an earthquake shaking up your heart. and he opens his arms for you to jump in and tugs you closer so he can feel like you are the only one in the world, his whole universe.

"i love you too!."

you already know. and you feel so lucky for it

gepard .ᐟ

you always look like hell. half of the time.

it is certain, considering that you have to try and survive after every day with four hours of sleep and a can of bitterly caffeinated jet fuel masquerading as coffee in one hand. sometimes, it's not always enough for your internal clock.

but that is okay, reall,y. gepard is the coffee you need every night.

especially since the woman working alongside gepard had turned out to be someone your social relations skills could only describe as unpleasant.

especially since you tried to make her understand her advances were useless, the soldiers don't like her, anyway. first with a few exchanged sentences (she ended up spilling coffee to your face and leaving you dripping in the middle of the precinct). then with rather crude gestures of disfavor (which led her to the erroneous assumption that you were somehow envious of her).

it took a long while until you finally snapped and began sabotaging her actively. at some point, it even became more of an amusing pastime that kept your systems sharp and accurate, just like that one candy that keeps annoying bronya to no end because you become a hyperactive-mess.

yes, you exchange her perfume and filling the vial with aftershave, programmed her social media to change every single self-portrait into a prerecorded file of sampo's choice ("pick rick astley!"), messing up the files of smaller files since she hardly ever occupied herself with them, and was prone to making mistakes subsequently.

yes, they were childish pranks yes, you almost got suspended for a month and yes, "you had to pay compensation for the emotional trauma she went through", but selfishly, you were lowkey proud.

somehow, it was the perfect excuse to spend more time near gepard.

there's no one who can brings the light; hangs the stars and moons as if he were not an object of celeste himself other than him. he barely smile, but when he dies, his toothy grin is cheshire, widening and stretching his cheeks as if his elation were uncontainable; contagious.

gepard gives warm hugs and sways back and forth to make you feel better. every time, without asking. ( apparently he developed a sixth sense when it comes to you. captain thing. )

its the sort of problem he hates the most because its not one he can solve with his hands.

so he won't bring what upsets you and even avert his gaze from you, but he'll place his hand on yours, softly rubbing his thumb against your knuckles, and that's when you know it will get better.

he always makes sure, in any case. he hardly sees you during the day, so when he wraps his arms around you and rocks you side-to-side, it can last seconds, long seconds, until you are giggling and shy, and then he lets you go on with your day as if nothing. other times, at home, he likes to tap to whatever song you're listening to on your body while cleaning, or at least he tries to. the beat is always a little off, too fast or not enough; still, it never fails to bring a soft smile to your lips, especially if he's humming along to it too. sometimes you would brag him to dance along with you.

it's silly, most of the time you two bump into each other, but it never fails to cheer you up.

looking at your bright smile as you laughed at one of your own stupid jokes, gepard can't help but feel grateful that you're in his life.

the kids love you as well, even when you say you are not fond of children, as he sees it right now, you're still kneeling down to talk to them because gepard cannot come to a better response when they ask him how to become a captain. you let the kids put stickers in your face and doodle with markers into your arms. you're still laughling when you carry around a little girl like a princess even if you will have a backache afterwards.

a burst of fondness and adoration explodes in his chest, and when the kids leave, gepard is leaning down to press a kiss to your crown. is somewhat tender, the purest expression of his love he can muster. your eyes instantaneously descending towards your shoes as you could no longer hold his gape of admiration as he pulls away, and it turns into an embarrassed chuckle when you meet his face with sleepy eyes and smile.

"you are still here" he says, which it is a shame, as you can only see him between breaks and because you had to keep an eye over the helper.

"i am" you nod, holding out a lunch with one hand. "here, you forgot it."gepard can hardly keep himself from blushing, ocean irises soft and heart swooning as you laugh; seemingly initiating a commencing rise of the sun."did you do it on purpose?"

"i couldn't imagine it."he is suave and he is charming under this moment of vulnerability, under the split second he bares his heart to you, letting you feel his joy with him as his hand finds its way to your waist, holding you as if you were about to shatter.

and you let him, as always. you decided that this is where you'll stayー in gepard's hold, where the heat from his body completely enveloping yours is enough to hush your grief, in which you know you are going to be okay.

in the tiny space you've made for yourself, where you crouched to weep in silence alone, someone has intruded your circle, but it is someone who cares deeply. gepard knows of your pain, and somehow for now, that is enough.

#honkai star rail x reader #jing yuang x reader #dr ratio x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine x reader #boothill x reader #blade x reader #argenti x reader #gepard x reader

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patscorner · 12 hours

Note

write a Paige fic with them being rivals on the court but secret lovers off the court please and thank you patty🫶

yes ma'am 🫡

Always and Forever

Summary: You and Paige hate each other, or that's what you have everyone else thinking.

wc: 1,780

Contains: swearing, two kisses, just fluff

______________________________

For as long as you could remember, you loved basketball. You don't know when it started, but you knew that it was gonna be your future career. You joined your first team in 5th grade, and quickly became MVP, making progress faster than you could blink.

There was another girl in your class, and for whatever reason, she hated you. She also happened to be on the same basketball team. She made it known she didn't like you, because the first day of tryouts, she shoved you for no reason. Her hatred for you didn't stop there though, she refused to pass the ball to you, even if it meant costing your team a game, or taking unnecessary risks.

Nobody knew why she disliked you, but that animosity only grew as you both did. But there wasn't anything you could do, you both loved basketball, and you weren't gonna stop playing because some kid didn't like you.

But what you didn't know is that she felt the exact opposite. She was so painfully in love with you and so deep in the closet that she didn't know what to do with these feelings. Her only solution was to make you hate her.

Another thing you didn't know is that you felt the exact same way. If an outsider were to look at you two, you'd think it was one of the most intense long lasting rivalries of all time. But you two were head over heels for each other.

You only found out your junior year in high school, because the teachers and coaches were tired of you both bickering. They put you two in a room and told you to figure your shit out. Obviously, it started in a screaming match, but eventually you both grew tired of arguing, and a different type of tension filled the room.

You both start to have an actual conversation, without the arguing and fighting. Of course, there were small jabs at each other, you both still weren't friends, but by the end of the day, you weren’t enemies. Nobody knew that you were gay, so the only solution in your eyes was to pretend to hate each other.

Eventually, she admitted her feelings for you, and you didn't say you liked her back, but instead answered with a kiss. You started dating shortly after, and decided to keep your relationship on the down low. You both know it's for the best, as not everyone was open to the idea of you being gay, including your parents, so you both continued pretending to hate each other.

Even if everybody else thought you couldn’t stand each other, you were so head over heels for the kid who hated you for all of elementary and middle school.

Little did you know that kid would end up being the Paige Bueckers.

“So how does it feel being matched up against Paige Bueckers? I know that you guys have a long history.” the reporter asks, her smile matching yours. Oh, you have history. She's been your girlfriend for about five years now, but the media didn't know.

You and her were never super far from each other, since she got accepted to Uconn, and you got a scholarship to CCSU. The colleges were only thirty-five minutes away from each other, so that made seeing each other much easier.

“Yeah, it's gonna be tough, she's a good basketball player, y’know, great defense, amazing three-pointers.” You smile at the camera. “I'm excited, I can't wait to absolutely destroy her. I've done it before, and I'll do it again, no problem.”

The reporter chuckles at your words. “Big talk, can't wait to see the match up. Anything last words for Paige?” You can't help but smile at the reporter’s egging you on.

“Yeah, give me your worst, Bueckers. I'm coming for you, baby.” You say with a wink, before thanking the reporter, and walking away. You can't help but shake your head at the ridiculousness of your empty words. Everyone but Paige thought you were being serious, and to an extent you were, you had a bet with her that you'd score more than twenty points this game, but the rest was bullshit.

Of course, Paige saw the interview, laughing at your ‘seriousness’. So when it was her turn to be interviewed, she had to say something back.

“I mean, it'll be a fun game. Can't wait to see the big game that CCSU’s ‘top player’ was yapping about.” She throws up hand quotations and tilts her head mockingly as she speaks. “I'm excited to bring her hell and knock her off that tall ass high horse she's sat herself on.”

The reporter is eating up every word coming out of Paige’s mouth.

“Lots of trash talk from both ends, it seems the feud continues?” Paige nods and smiles. “Always and forever.” She winks at the camera as she speaks.

Always and forever.

The words Paige made you repeat back to her when she gave you the promise ring that you had safety-pinned to your jersey at all times. When you first put it there, it sent the media into a spiral, rumors spreading like wildfires. When interviewers finally asked you about it, you said there was someone, but the rumors about who were all incorrect.

Nobody would've guessed Paige, and you both made sure to keep it that way.

The game was just as tough as you imagined it would be. With 4 seconds left in the fourth quarter, the score was tied, 89-89. It was the Huskies ball, and they had one chance to win.

Nika passes the ball to Aubrey from out-of-bounds, starting the shot clock. Aubrey sneaks past defense, and attempts to pass into Paige. But, Aubrey's defender blocks the shot with her fingers, sending the ball flying into your hands.

You react quickly, sprinting back towards the basket, watching as the shot clock hits one second. You're only half-court, but you don't have enough time to get any closer, so you take the risk and let the ball fly.

Just as the ball leaves your hands, the buzzer goes off, and the stadium goes silent as the ball soars through the air. You freeze as you watch the ball fall through the net, the crowd erupting into screams. Your shot went in, making the final score 92-89.

You're immediately surrounded by your teammates, who are chest bumping you, and dapping you up. This moment is something you never want to end, but there's something missing. This moment won't be the same without one thing.

You manage to wiggle free from your extremely hyped up teammates, ignoring your name being called as you make your way to the Uconn bench. You try to ignore the eyes on you, as you find the only person you want to ever have to look for.

When you spot the back of her head, you quickly make your way to her before your confidence runs out. You pull her sleeve, and her eyebrows furrow as she makes eye contact with you.

“What-” She starts, but you cut her off.

“I'm going to kiss you now.” You say, but you don't move. You want to make sure this is what she wants, but as the smile grows on her face, her compliance becomes clear.

“Okay.” she nods as her face turns a bright pink.

You grin as you pull her into a searing kiss, her hands finding your waist as she reciprocates your passion. You hear the gasps around you, which only makes you smile more. When you feel Paige grin against your mouth, you wrap your arms around her neck.

She pulls away, laughing as your whine. Even though there's thousands of people in the room, she only cares about you. “Guess they know now.” she chuckles.

“Paige Madison Bueckers! What the fuck?!” KK screams, causing Paige to roll her eyes and look over her shoulder. “Can I help you?” She deadpans. “I'm a little busy right now.”

KK’s jaw drops even more from the audacity. "I can see that, I better be filled in after."

Paige looks back at you and smiles. “Yeah, later. Now, do you mind?”

“Oh, by all means, continue making out with your arch-nemesis. Don't let me, the six giant cameras, or the sold-out arena stop you.”

You laugh at this, kissing Paige’s cheek before pulling away. You look at your team, and around the stadium, and everyone's sharing the same expression, jaws dropped, eyes wide, and frozen in shock. You look up, and see yourself on the big screen.

Paige smiles down at you, her arm still wrapped around your waist. “I can't believe you did that. You're fucking crazy.”

You shrug and smile. “You love it.”

She kisses the top of your head. “Damn right.”

After the excitement of the kiss calmed down, the same reporter from earlier asked to interview both of you, to which you of course said yes.

“So what is your guys’ relationship status?” She asked, pointing the mic in your direction. You smile widely before answering. “Paige is my girlfriend, and she has been for five, almost six years.”

The reporter shakes her head in shock. “What made you guys choose to keep it a secret and cover it up with a seemingly harsh feud?” This time, she hands the mic to Paige, who shakes her head.

“Well, it started out real. Like I could not stand her, ever since we were on the same basketball team in fifth grade. But eventually, I started to like her, then I started to love her. Turns out she liked me too, so in high school we started to date.” She finished with a shrug.

“Oh wow, I mean this is a shock to everyone. You both played it off very well. What were some of the hardest moments?” You nod as the reporter speaks.

“Probably pretending to not care, especially if one of us has a rough loss or a great win. It was hard not to comfort or celebrate publicly.” You say.

“So everything after junior year in high school was fake? The rivalry, I mean.”

You smile. “Yeah, it was all for the cameras.” Paige’s eyes light up as she looks down at you. The camera picked up on the sparkle in her eyes as she looked at you with nothing but love.

Her hands squeeze your waist as the interview ends, and you both walk away. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and you've never felt happier.

You knew that whether the world knew or not, it was gonna be you and her.

Always and forever.

______________________________

taglist: @wintersstan @bueckerslover @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @girlokwhatever @pbloverr @breeloveschris

#paige bueckers fanfiction #paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige x reader #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers head cannons #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers x female oc #paige bueckers x oc #uconn wbb #uconn wcbb #uconnwbb #uconn #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #uconn x reader #wcbb x reader #wcbb

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charrlote365 · 3 days

Text

Pumping Gym

Reference Idol: fromis_9 LEE CHAEYOUNG Word Count: 7.160

Tags: Romance, gym, Kpop idol, fromis_9, Lee Chaeyoung

I woke up with the cold touch of the gym floor against my cheek, the imaginary echo of repeated clanking steel dumbbells still ringing in my head. I saw my watch and It's 4 AM now like wtf. "Where is everyone?" "How did I end up lying on the empty gym's floor, naked??". Shit now I remember.

It was our anniversary, and Chaeyoung and I had rented out the entire gym for a private workout celebration. Like it's literally just both us. Nobody else there. I know it sounds weird to celebrate anniversary in a gym but she really loves workout and since its part of her daily routines, there's nothing out of ordinary for the medias to find out our relationship. It's friggin hard to keep our relationship from those dispatch rats. I walked into the gym, ready for our routine workout session. There she was, Chaeyoung, my dearest girlfriend, her body is so fit, her shoulder is wide and filled with muscle. She looks as if she could punch the punching bag into oblivion in one punch. Her usually bright eyes were stormy, and she seemed to be in her own world for the warming up, with her headphones on.

Confused by her cold shoulder on our special day, I tried to match her pace on the stair climber, but she sped up, so I gave up. I realized that she left her phone on the bench, so out of boredom I took it and secretly took a picture of her from behind and posted her sexy buttocks on her IG story. "Oh my gosh, she's gonna kill me for this". She kept on going with the climber. Her butts were moving up and down, my gawd if there's anything I wanted to do was to shove my face into that crack and sniff out her soul out of it. It must have felt great, I thought while losing myself looking at those bouncy heaven.

Not a minute later. Drenched in sweat, she stopped using the equipment and walked to me. She then suddenly grabbed my head with both hands like it was a watermelon on a flash sales and kissed my lips. She stopped for a while and we looked at each other, she's so cute with that begging face of her so I kissed her back, my tongue running over her lips, my hand traveling on her tight gym pants, they're so tight like its part of her skin. my lips brushed her sweaty neck finding a sweet spot "mmrh~" she started making weird sound and she suddenly whispered to my ear, "I'm sorry for being cold today but i'm so horny since this morning, it's so frustrating, so tonight, I'll squeeze you dry until I'm satisfied". "Now, just take them off~" she sighed as I bit her neck. I put my hand into her pants. "Don't rush into it" she whispered, she grabbed my hand and put it on her breast. Her breasts aren't really big, maybe around C cup, but they're super bouncy and heavy, must be because of all of the workouts she's been doing. I slipped off my shirt, throwing it to the side. I leaned forward, kissing her breast through her bra, my hands worked it's way up, slowly pulling her bra up.

My lips teased her breast, biting as she moaned "mmmh~". My hands trailed down her hips, into the pants, going right to her underwear. But wait! there's nothing there. where is the underwear??? "Hmm someone not wearing panties today", I said to slightly teasing her. My hands ran over her thigh, then went back to her big buttocks, pushing on her soft cheeks. "omhh~" she moans. Carefully, I put off all of her clothes, her gym pants, her clothes, bra and everything else. Now naked, I sat down on a chair while she sat on my lap, putting her hands on my shoulder.I ran my hands rubbing and sucking her breasts, then my lips trailing her body. breast, stomach, neck, and feeling the softness of her thighs making me fell deeper into the extacy.

Her pussy is so wet now, the love juice pouring onto my thighs like honey. She stood up so I moved my fingers down. Inserting them into her hole, Two fingers. "Shibaal~" she moaned, as my fingers curled inside of her. She moved her hips down, pushing my fingers deeper into her pussy. my pace quickened as I inserted a third finger. Her walls were closing around them, Her hands pulled my hair causing my head to throb. I did not stop, I kept going, and faster and even faster, her pussy walls continued tightening as her body suddenly shook. She came as more of her pussy juice poured onto the floor like a waterfall. I removed my fingers and licked em to taste her juice. Kinda tasted sour but I liked the yoghurt taste anyways. Now it's time for the main event. We found a gym matress lying on the floor so I lie down on it, with my d1ck standing up hard rock like a flag pole on the moon erected by Neil Armstrong. I'm waiting for her to stab it into her pussy. She squatted down slowly onto my dick. My dick was curving inside her walls, I could feel her warmth, liquid and pussy walls engulfing my dick like it's sucking a lolipop. She moaned loudly and started moving quickly. My balls slapped against her pussy lips as I felt my toes began to curl, "oh my fucking gawd!" I whined loud as her hands were playing on my nipples, she pounded deeper into my body. But then, she suddenly stopped. "Wait, what's happening? don't stop please! I haven't come yet", I begged her. "She then made a grin on her face and took 2 friggin pieces of 10 kg dumbbells. She jammed her pussy back into my dick while carrying 2 10kg dumbbells in her hands. "Can't miss my gym session just because of you, babe". Fuck, since the dumbells were so heavy her pussy jammed even deeper into me like in extra 5 cm deeper. I could even feel her cervix gate bumping on the tip of my dick. I thought the two of us would become as one if she tried to go any deeper. My body tensed up and "Chaeyoung ahhh~ sarang hae!!" I moaned loudly as I came, I felt my vision got blurry as my body got loose. Chaeyoung, who hasn't come yet ignored my moans and kept continuing to jam my dick into her cervix. She was smiling and enjoying her time while lifting the 2 dumbbells, making steel clacking sound as she's bumping her pussy deeper and harder into me. It's so deep that now the tip of my dick was being strangled by her cervix neck. "ffuckkk Chaeyoung ahh~ my dick is still so sensitive, please stopp!!" I yelled. She still didn't listen, I kept begging her to stop as I started losing consciousness and finally, fainted. Although I fainted, for fcking sure, I think she was still using my fainted body as her private dildo until I released cement into her stomach for another 5 rounds by the look of how much of my sperm was on the matress when I woke up.

"Ping", my phone suddenly rang. There's a message from Chaeyoung. She sent a photo of her topless with a message "I'm sorry for the mess last night, It seemed that I enjoyed myself too much. ㅋㅋㅋ. I was going to wake you up after I finished but I realized that I was almost late for my solo flight to Bali today at 5 AM so I just left you there. Hopefully you didnt catch a cold. See you again after I come back to Korea, baby. - xoxo, Chaeyoung." Damn it, I felt like I was pranked. I wanted to have revenge on her for making me fainted last night. Yeah right, let's follow her to Bali and surprise her with a sudden rough sex. Muehehe. -End.

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #fromis 9 smut #fromis 9 #lee chaeyoung #chaeyoung

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momochanners · 5 hours

Text

After a good night's sleep, I think I can better solidify my thoughts in regards to the Dragon Age trailer.

First, let's start with the positives:

- Companion diversity: This has always been part of the series' DNA that has been clearly depicted with every iteration, so those who cry foul over "Asian & Black elves", prosthethics, etc etc...I really don't get that, because values and sensibilities evolve over time. Even the series itself has course corrected when needed, eg. Player character creation influencing the family ethnicity of the Couslands in DA:O vs the Hawkes in DA2.

- Unlocked romances: Letting players choose whoever they want to romance regardless of their sexuality and race has always been a positive for me. Allowing everyone to enjoy the experience equally is great (and I'm sure the nuances of player race & gender will be addressed through dialogue and banter). Moreover, CRPGs are long and time-consuming, so to be locked out of character romances mid-way through is never going to be a good time (from personal experience and observing fandom in the past).

Now the negatives:

- Maybe it's me being on the older side of the Bioware fandom (15 years in Dragon Age, 20 years if you count older games like KotOR and Jade Empire), but I cringed very hard watching the trailer. If you followed the development of this game in the past decade, the cancelled live service element that was to be DA4 in one of its iterations was so all over the way the companions were introduced that it brought out a visceral reaction in me. The tonal whiplash from how foreboding Dreadwolf was presented in the past to the patronising happy quippy MEET OUR LITTLE GUYS YOU'RE SURE TO LOVE also did not help as a first concrete look of what to expect after all this time (also poor anachronistic choice of soundtrack when you already have Trevor Morris' compositions right there). I was so dismayed when they went with a looter-shooter-esque lighthearted vibe when they could've leaned hard on the foreboding established mood and momentum they've already got going with Dreadwolf.

- The branding switch this late in the game that comes with it, especially one as drastic as this will always come with questions and ambivalence. I feel that mitigating uncertainty from announced changes (party number, combat mechanics, setting and environment, etc) should've have been prioritised to reassure existing and lapsed fans before appealing to new ones in such a jarring way.

- I'm simply baffled at the marketing suit who signed off on whatever this is to be their "best foot forward" at reintroducing the final form of this game? If only there were confident with the world they've already built instead of relying on trendy gimmicks, the amount of damage control I'm seeing prior to the gameplay reveal tonight was so avoidable. Controlling the narrative from the get go is so very important especially now as opinions can easily snowball overnight into behemoth-like proportions especially from bad faith actors. You would think that lessons were learned from DA:O's "THIS IS THE NEW SHIT" and DA2's "Press a button, something AWESOME happens" debacles.

(The thing is, despite it being my least favourite DA out of the three, imho Inquisition has the best marketing campaign in the franchise despite the developmental troubles going on in the background. So it has been pulled off successfully before!)

- I think the Bioware layoffs, especially the recent extensive gutting of senior staff in September 2023, significantly depleted my goodwill as a fan. To see Varric being paraded as a mascot in the trailer, game promotion and supplementary media while having his creator unceremoniously let go after years of building the franchise we love left me so very cold. And it's a me problem, but seeing many other fans barely acknowledging that save for few hollow words before getting back into the fun frustrated me so much. I get being excited to finally get something solid after years of false starts, but with what was lost along the way...I personally don't feel right to approach this installment without cynicism.

Idk, I'm just a bundle of conflicted feelings over this series I guess? When it's so good, it's really good and stays with you as memorable gaming experiences that stays with you for life, but when it stumbles and fumbles the bag...it hurts to see.

#dragon age #dragon age critical #I'm not good with words but I'll try to articulate my thoughts anyway #so i can process it out of my system

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leonsdolly · 2 days

Text

Cherry Pies

Leon Kennedy x fem!reader x Ashley Graham

Synopsis: You propose the idea of a threesome to your boyfriend, but you accidentally get your feelings hurt during the act.

CW: nsfw 18+, p in v, threesome, ddlg/daddy kink, oral (both male and female receiving), face-sitting, unprotected sex, creampie, cum-eating, fingering, jealousy, implied age gap (mid 20s, early 40s)

WC: 4.5k

If there’s one thing you cherish in life, it’s Leon’s propensity for spoiling you. There’s no end to his love for his cute girlfriend; he’ll do anything for you, and if that means listening to you prattle on about your coworkers’ nightmare hookups or assembling a cozy country cottage for your Sylvanian families, so be it. He’ll swallow all reservations, not that he has any, for the sake of keeping his baby happy. He’s made it known that you’re the best thing that's ever happened to him, all pink and saccharine, like a sugar plum fairy. However, your latest request has him raising an eyebrow.

“Are you sure about this, babydoll?”

“Sure I’m sure!” Your eyes twinkle with excitement as you plop yourself on his lap with your arms around him. “I’ve always wanted to try it… and you like Ashley, right? You said she’s my only friend whose perfume doesn't make you sneeze.”

“Oh right,” Leon thinks back to the friend you’re referring to. He’s only met her once, but he seemed to approve of your friendship. She was well-mannered and indulged in your dramatic retellings of everyone else’s lives for him when he was just too busy licking the government’s bootstraps. “You sure you’re okay with this, baby? Won’t get jealous?” His voice is teasing but a glimmer of truth peeks out. You almost clawed his eyes out when he wolf-whistled at a character from one of the video games you played - the female mercenary in red. Your gel manicure (procured on his dime, of course) was fresh at the time and was the only thing preventing you from expressing your displeasure.

“Gosh, just let me have this, Daddy…” You give him the most precious puppy dog eyes you can muster.

“I’m just looking out for you, sweet girl.” He touches his forehead against yours so that he’s gazing straight into your eyes. “You can get feisty sometimes, you sure you won’t mind if I have my tongue in another girl’s pussy?”

His words deliver a current straight to your core like an electrode is attached to your clit. You lean in closer to nip at his lips, swiping your tongue across them. He chuckles and presses against you for a proper sloppy kiss, intertwining his tongue with yours. You slowly grind your hips against his lap, feeling his cock harden beneath you. His hands slip underneath your shirt, caressing your back and slinking forward to squeeze your tits as he continues to lap into your mouth.

“What if we didn’t fuck until then?” You cease all movement and pull back, causing him to chase your pretty lips with a slight frown.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me, doll.”

“No, it'll be fun!” Your eyes glint with mischief. “No sex until then. That way, you can channel all of that pent up energy into fucking Ashley and I properly.”

“Baby, I’m already energetic when it comes to fucking you properly no matter how many times we do it.” He moves to kiss you again, but you dodge and press your finger against his lips.

“You’re just gonna blueball me?” His offended tone makes you giggle as you wrap your arms around him and snuggle into his chest.

“There's more to a relationship than sex, y’know.” You’re laying it on real thick at this point; it's utter shit coming out of your mouth, you know it, he knows it, and it's amusing all the same.

“Mhm, I know the girl who cries when my cock isn't in her mouth isn't saying this.”

“Daddy!” You tilt your head up, sticking your tongue out at him.

“I’m just saying. You know I’ll do anything for you, baby. If this is what you want, so be it. Just don't be surprised if I blow my load in two seconds flat and embarrass you in front of your friend.” He nuzzles against your hairline.

“You’re being dramatic,” you roll your eyes and hug him tighter.

T-Minus 3 days.

You shoo Leon away when his hands glide under your skirt in an attempt to touch your pussy.

T-Minus 2 days.

You send Leon a picture of your bare tits, nipples perky through the screen.

T-Minus 1 day.

You let Leon fuck his fist with your used panties wrapped around his cock.

D-Day.

Ashley comes over, all smiles and chirps while Leon is still away at work. The two of you gossip about everything and everyone over delicate glasses of chardonnay while occasionally brushing against each other’s bare legs. You’re clad in a white lacy bra with pale pink trim and white panties with a dainty bow in the same shade of pink - Leon’s favorite colors on you. Ashley wears a matching set in baby blue that brings out her eyes - your favorite color on her. You giggle as you do each other’s hair and makeup to perfection.

“Perfect,” you smile as you playfully tap the blush brush on her button nose. “My daddy likes blush on girls.”

Ashley giggles at this as she runs a hand over your bare thigh. “We’re gonna make Daddy so happy.” Oh God, she's a natural at this - you didn't need to coach her through the dynamics of your relationship with Leon. She knew exactly what to say and how to act - the perfect daddy’s girl. You chose her for a reason after all.

You head to the bed where you curl up against each other to wait for Leon’s homecoming. Ashley looks awfully pretty in the ambient glow of your bedside lamp - shiny blonde hair, smooth skin, cute tits that stand on their own without much help from a push-up bra. Oh, Leon’s going to eat her up. You mentally give yourself a pat on the back as you brush your lips against hers. She kisses you back, and your hand comes up to tweak at her perky nipple through the delicate lace of her bra. You press your breasts against hers as you both moan quietly into each other's mouths. The feeling of her tits rubbing against yours makes your thighs clench together - your pussy’s wet, and your boyfriend isn't even here yet.

Your kisses grow more heated as you continue to rub against each other. Her lips are so much softer than the ones you’re accustomed to, and they taste like cherry pies. You marvel at the way her tongue softly glides against yours like molten candy. You’re so invigorated by the sensation that you fail to hear the front door of your apartment unlocking and Leon’s familiar footsteps making their way to the bedroom.

By the time he reaches the bedroom, he's gobsmacked by the sight of his pretty baby having a makeout session with another pretty baby. You and Ashley finally pull away from each other to gaze up at him through subtle glittery eyeshadow and false lashes. “How was work, Daddy?” You crawl towards him, letting him catch a good view of your breasts, before kneeling at the foot of the bed where you reach your grabby hands out for him.

“Work was work,” he sighs contentedly as he takes your hands and bends down to kiss your forehead lovingly. You both look towards Ashley who’s observing your affections shyly from the corner of the bed. Leon smiles and reaches his hand out for her, urging her to join you in front of him. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

Once she has the green light, she crawls over so that she’s perched prettily on her knees next to you. He places a hand on your cheek, caressing it tenderly before using his other hand to do the same to Ashley. He bends down to plant a kiss on your lips and repeats the gesture with her. “My pretty girls,” he murmurs as his gaze grows heavy with desire.

His words and actions ignite the flame deep inside your core, and you can tell they’re having the same effect on Ashley. You start to palm him through his jeans, admiring the bulge that’s developing in front of your very eyes. You turn to Ashley with a giggle. “Daddy’s cock’s really nice… S’like, actually fun to suck.”

“Really?” Her eyes brighten as she beams up at Leon before helping you unbuckle his belt and slide his jeans down, revealing his hard cock. “Oh…!” She lets out a squeak. “You weren’t kidding…”

Your hand comes up to gently stroke his length as you pepper the tip in sweet kisses until precum’s beading from it. His eyebrows knit together as he inhales sharply. “Here, try it,” you giggle as you lift your head to let Ashley have a taste. She suckles on the head for a bit before you gently guide her head down his thick length. Her head bobs up and down while Leon groans in pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re just as good of a cocksucker as my baby is, huh, sweetheart?” Her response is warbled around his cock as she sucks more enthusiastically at his praise. She finally pulls off, leaving a string of spit connecting her to his sticky tip. It’s broken once you kiss her hungrily, savoring the taste of your boyfriend on her cherry flavored lips.

“My turn, Daddy,” you sing-song as you open your mouth wide for him, making him guide his heavy cock inside and down your throat. You’re used to him, and your throat welcomes the familiar sensation as it clenches salaciously around his length. His grunts grace your ears, and you do your best to gaze up at him through your lashes - even though you’re used to it, the teary eyes and quiet gags always make their presence known.

“Good girl, my baby,” he breathes as you pull off of his cock leaving just the tip in your mouth. Ashley joins in, sloppily kissing and licking the side of his cock as you work the tip before mimicking her actions on the other side. You both giggle as you move up and down in tandem, sending vibrations through his body. He moans loudly as you slobber all over his fat cock before meeting each other’s lips at the tip where you hungrily lap at each other’s mouths.

Leon takes a small step back, gently pulling both of you off. “As much as I’d love to cum on my pretty girls’ faces right here, I don’t want to blow my load that quick.” He slips off his shirt and moves to lay down flat on the bed where he beckons you over to him for a kiss. As he intertwines his tongue with yours, he undoes the clasp on your bra, leaving your tits bare for him. Ashley shimmies over to squeeze them before licking at one of your pert nipples. Leon moves to take the other in his mouth, and you mewl at the sensation of both your breasts being sucked on. Your clit throbs underneath your panties, begging to be touched, so you oblige, snaking your fingers south to rub at it.

“D-do you want Daddy’s cock or his mouth, Ash?” You moan as you try to gather yourself and prepare for the next course of action.

A blush crosses her already blushing cheeks as she chirps without any hesitation. “Mouth! Is that okay, Daddy?”

“Sure, come up here, sweetheart,” Leon has to grip the base of his leaking cock as he swears he could almost cum on the spot at the sound of you two deciding where to park your pretty pussies on him.

You help Ashley slip off her panties before she clambers over Leon to slowly position her dripping pussy over his face. He groans at the sight as he takes reign of her hips and guides her directly onto his waiting mouth.

“F-fuck,” her eyes immediately flutter at the sensation of his tongue lapping at her glistening folds. “Your daddy sure knows how to eat puss-” she lets out a high-pitched whine as his lips wrap around her dainty clit, sucking on it the way a real man should. Her moans are cute, endearing really. They’re melodious, her very own aria accompanied by Leon’s groans muffled into her cunt.

“Isn’t he the best?” You smile at Ashley’s nipple, her right tit is starting to free itself from her bra with all the thrashing she’s doing on your daddy’s face. You lean over to give her a giant smooch on the lips before sliding your own panties off and moving down to position yourself over Leon’s hard cock. Your poor daddy has been humping the air this whole time in an effort to chase some pleasure of his own - not that pussy-eating isn’t one of his favorite pastimes. You drag your pussy over his cock, letting your juices lubricate it properly, though it’s leaking so much on its own that the action is needless.

As you sink down completely on his fat cock, your eyes squeeze shut at the feeling of him stretching you open. While your pussy’s been trained to take this cock, the initial fit still requires some acclimation on your part. Kisses from Leon also help, but he’s a bit preoccupied with handing those out to Ashley’s little hole.

Leon’s moans reverberate through Ashley as you start to bounce up and down on his cock, meeting the firm muscle of his thighs with your plush asscheeks.

“How does it feel?” Ashley whines as the two of you reach for each other’s hands, interlacing your fingers together for support.

“S-so good,” you gaze at her with a heavy lidded expression as Leon plants his feet on the bed so he can drill his cock up into you harder, making you almost topple over. “Daddy! S’too much!”

He chuckles, and it’s like the vibrations are transmitted directly through Ashley’s tits and received by your mouth as your tongue laves over her exposed right nipple. You pull the rest of her bra down so you can wrap your lips around the neglected left one. You kiss each of her tits one last time before trailing your kisses northbound to her collarbones, then to her neck, to her jaw, to her soft lips.

“Oh God,” she cries against your lips. “Gonna cum, oh my goodness-” Leon’s obscene slurping intensifies as she whines louder before cumming all over your daddy’s face. Her face is cute as she cums, eyes crossing dumbly and pretty pink mouth forming an O shape.

Ashley shakily climbs off of Leon’s face as she watches the two of you fuck through the post-orgasm haze. You bend down to kiss Leon as he pounds into you, tasting Ashley’s pussy juices on his lips. “You taste so good, Ash…”

The blonde smiles wide, going loopy over your words and Leon’s tongue. You straighten up and lean back slightly so that your hands are anchored onto Leon’s thighs as he jackhammers up into you. “F-fuck, Daddy!”

“My beautiful girl,” he groans through his thrusts. “So cute, falling apart on my cock just like that. Look at those perfect titties bounce. Daddy loves watching you get fucked like this.” Your eyes tear up as the head of his cock continues to hit the jackpot inside you. Ding, ding, ding! Your moans grow erratic as you feel the build up in your tummy begin to consume you. Leon feels the familiar clench of your cunt, he knows his baby’s about to make a mess for him.

“Daddy, I-I…” You’re blubbering as the feeling in your tummy snaps, and you cum all over the cock that continues to pummel into you. He pulls you down to press kisses to your swollen lips and flushed cheeks as he admires your fucked out expression. He slows his thrusts down until his hips are still against yours.

Ashley pokes at your arm, giggling at your dopey smile. Her clit was throbbing while she watched you take Leon’s cock, and now it’s demanding the special treatment. She’s raring to go for another round, and Leon still hasn't finished yet. You swap places with her - you lounge on your side as your chest rises and falls from your previous orgasm. Ashley lays on her back as Leon hovers over her, spreading her plush thighs open so that he can slot his cock inside her twitching hole. The two of them moan in unison as he bullies his way inside and starts pumping in and out of her sloppy cunt.

“That’s some good pussy,” Leon groans as he leans down to kiss her feverishly through his thrusts. Ashley mewls into his mouth as she claws at his back with her acrylics, leaving scratches that would surely be visible tomorrow. It’s a wonder one didn't snap off.

“Daddy!” She whines as the slapping of his balls against her ass echoes through the room. “You're gonna make me cum all over again… Can't wait to squirt all over your big dick this time.”

He chuckles at this as he pinches her nipples. “Is that right? Gonna let Daddy cream this pussy?” Okay, it’s getting weird. He leans down to touch his forehead against hers. What the hell?

Your chest tightens at the sight though you shake your head, chastising yourself for feeling the familiar pit of jealousy brewing in your gut. You wanted this! Leon had raised his concerns over whether you would be alright with this arrangement, and you had insisted that it was what you wanted. You had reassured him that your possessive streak wouldn't rear its ugly head. Your brows furrow together as your bottom lip involuntarily juts itself into your signature pout as you watch them continue to kiss. You’re not being fair - you know that much; these are two people who are significant to you. They agreed to this because they thought it would make you happy. Do they have to look at each other so fucking tenderly? You trust them, love them, and now you’re about to set the entire apartment building on fire, trapping all of you in the flames of your hysteria.

The safe word you and Leon had decided on a long time ago bubbles on your lips, threatening to pop out any second now, commanding a halt to the evening’s activities. You’re an insecure little brat who spends her days whining for Leon’s attention like a mutt with serious anxious attachment issues. “Bingo…”

The second the word reaches his ears, Leon’s tapping Ashley’s thigh gently as he ceases his thrusting.

“Sorry, sweetheart… I need to check on my girl.” He pulls out of her squelching pussy with a grunt as he turns his attention towards you, taking you in his arms. “Everything okay, baby?” He strokes your hair as he kisses the top of your head. You sniffle as you shake your head.

Poor Ashley’s still lying on her back, legs spread for the world as she processes what just happened. She props herself up on her elbows and looks at you with the gaze of a friend who genuinely cares for your well-being. Both their looks of concern make you feel like a real insecure bitch, dramatizing your grievances as usual.

“Are you okay?” Her soft voice floats over to you, increasing your guilt by tenfold.

Leon’s rubbing your back and whispering sweet words in your ear as he patiently waits for you to articulate the reason for your distress. You cling to him, burying your face in his chest before finally looking up at him in shame.

“Didn’t… didn’t like seeing you guys like that…”

His expression is a mixture of guilt and confusion, but he doesn't seem completely surprised. He continues to stroke your hair soothingly as he speaks. “Baby, I thought you said this was going to be alright with you?”

“I-I…” Your eyes narrow in frustration, and your cheeks flush from the embarrassment of feeling a tantrum coming on in front of Ashley.

“You’re okay, no one’s mad at you,” he continues to reassure you by using his low, tender tone that was reserved only for you. “Use your words babydoll, help me understand what's going on in that pretty little head.”

You take a deep breath as you look into the eyes that know you better than anyone else, always analyzing your innermost thoughts. “F-fucking was fine, but holding and kissing each other like that is too much for me. You were looking at her like she's your baby.” You abandon all control of maintaining composure; accusatory whines are apparently spilling out of your mouth before your brain can even process them.

Leon freezes for a moment before letting out a singular sigh. “Doll, you’re my one and only baby… You’re always gonna be mine. I’m so sorry that I made you feel otherwise… Promise neither of us were thinking that.”

You drop your head down and keep it buried in his chest. You continue to cling to him, refusing to look at him but not wanting to let him go at the same time. A pang shoots through his heart as he ruminates over his actions. He continues using his gentle voice while tightening his arms around you. “Baby… My sweet girl… Guess we got a little carried away. Swear on my life I’d never want to do anything to hurt you.”

Ashley’s been observing your interactions quietly with a guilty expression. She sits up fully to reach her hand out so that she’s rubbing your shoulder gently. “I’d never do anything to hurt you… You’re my friend, and I love you lots… Pinky promise we weren't acting that way ‘cause we want each other or anything like that… Was just going along with the groove we set up at the beginning… Daddy and his girls….” She lets out a nervous chuckle as she bites her lip worriedly.

You turn your head slightly to peek out at her. “S’okay, Ash.” You can’t stay mad at her, she’s just too sweet and only wants to make her friend happy. You can't fault her for any of this, it just doesn’t feel right. So you focus your sour attitude onto Leon - after all, he’s the one who should’ve known how to conduct the situation appropriately, right? He's the one who shouldn't have flirted with the idea of cumming inside another girl while gazing into her eyes, right? Of course Ashley wouldn't have been able to think straight with a big dick like that scrambling her guts.

You push against Leon, trying to pry yourself from his arms, but he keeps his hold firm around you despite your anguish. “You're not getting away from me until I make this right, angel.”

“Don't wanna be near you,” your huff is slightly muffled as you continue to struggle.

“Baby.” Hurt seeps into his voice. “Please don't say that. I told you I was sorry. Look at me, sweet girl.”

You continue frowning into his solid chest. He keeps holding you close to him, doting on you like a little lamb - sweet nothings being whispered into your ear, kisses being dropped all over your head. He caresses your face, strokes your hair, rubs soothing circles all over your back, murmurs words of reassurance and love. The whole works, really.

Despite his loving actions, you continue to grumble against him like an agitated kitten. He never relents - he meant what he said, he's not letting go of you until he makes amends.

“My perfect baby, don't you know I love you more than anything in the world? Silly girl. You know I’d lay my life down for you without a second thought.”

He continues to coo and kiss at you until you’re back to melting in his arms. You finally look up at him with glassy eyes and a perpetual pout. “You really mean all that?”

“Of course I do.” He sighs heavily. “I should’ve made sure we established boundaries before starting this, honey. I’m sorry I upset you.”

“S’okay,” your voice wavers as you reach up to paw at his stubbled jaw. He kisses you, channeling all of his devotion to you through his lips.

“C’mon, dollface. This ain’t over yet.” He gently maneuvers you so that you’re laying flat on the bed next to Ashley. You reach out to lace your fingers through hers as she brushes her hair out of your face and presses a sugary kiss to your cheek. Both of you are spread-eagle for him, tits squished against each other as you wait for him to finish what he started.

He pushes his hard cock into you as his head falls back, relishing in the feeling of your velvety walls clamping down around him. He begins to rut into you, holding one of your legs in place against his shoulder while the other hand wanders over to Ashley’s cunt to rub at her clit. He strokes her clit for a while before plunging two fingers into her sopping hole. His fingers move in tandem with the way his cock pumps relentlessly in and out of you. You and Ashley moan into each other’s mouths as Leon groans and thrusts even faster at the sight of you two making out while he drives you both closer to your pleasure.

“C-can we do this again, Daddy?” You break from the kiss to look up at Leon with hazy eyes and your tongue lolling out.

“Yeah, can we, Daddy?” Ashley looks up at him with the same fucked out expression.

“Of course we can,” Leon grins down at the two of you. “Next time, I’ll - shit - fuck the two of you while you’re on top of each other. Leave you guessin’ which hole’s getting my cock.”

He knows you’re close when he can feel your pussy squeeze desperately around him as your breaths grow more shallow. He turns your head to kiss your ankle bone as your leg is still propped up against his shoulder to allow him deeper access. His thrusts become faster and deeper as he aims to pummel into the spot that has you seeing stars. He makes sure not to forget about Ashley either, quickening the pumping of his fingers inside her as he also rubs harshly at her clit with his thumb - he’s getting carpal tunnel at this rate. Her chest rises and falls rapidly and her grip tightens around your hand as she nears her high.

Ashley’s the first to reach her climax. She cums all over his fingers as she practically screams in pleasure. Her pornographic moans cause your orgasm to hit you before you’re even truly aware it’s happening. Your pussy clenches around Leon’s cock as your back arches in pleasure which makes his thrusts stutter a few times before he shoots his cum deep inside you.

You writhe in pleasure as his load fills you up the way it should, the way it’s destined to. Leon musters up the last of his energy in pulling out and plopping next to you. His arm drapes over you, but not before slipping his fingers into your mouth to swallow the last bits of Ashley’s essence. Ashley moves down in between your legs to observe the way your boyfriend’s load oozes out of your battered hole. She gently laps at the excess cum seeping out of your folds, cleaning you up with kitten licks until your pussy is all neat and tidy again. She moves back up to snuggle against you, kissing you sweetly.

“We’re doing this again, right?” She mumbles against your hair as her eyes flutter shut.

“Definitely.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy oneshot #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #leon kennedy #resident evil #ashley graham x reader

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laiostouden · 2 days

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laios and shuro's relationship is so important to me it's not funny anymore... the fact shuro kept believing in laios during the latter part of the manga, then searched for him after laios became a monster and defeated the winged lion- although it was unclear what exactly had become of him- is haunting me because of how it contrasts with him choosing to give up on saving falin after he saw her as a chimera. like, laios was so sure that their fight in chapter 38 was the end of their friendship while in reality it was the beginning of it in shuro's eyes. laios kept agonizing over losing the one friend he cared for the most but it's because he didn't understand the significance of that little thing he kept carrying with him in every step until the very end of the series: the bell.

shuro gave him that bell as a token of his trust in him and his love: "we grew apart and i'm no longer fit for the position by your side, but no matter how far you go, i'll be there for you when you need me". their conflict over how to deal with falin forced them to go in different directions, but despite accepting leaving falin behind, shuro couldn't bring himself to abandon laios as well. and it's no coincidence that the bell shuro gave him was the proof that laios was still alive after all that happened, or that it's what pushed mithrun and kabru to go deeper into the dungeon instead of returning to the surface (which quite literally changed the entire chain of events afterwards).

yes, shuro decided to stop pursuing falin and report her condition to the governor so she could be stopped, even at the cost of her life. he gave up on her. but the same man also defied the canaries and fought for laios without knowing how messed up things had gotten because he chose to believe in laios above all else. and that, in my opinion, solidified just how important laios became to him- more than falin's, more than his own life, it's laios's he didn't give up on.

at the very end, when he met laios again after the latter defeated the winged lion, he gave him a hug filled with the pure, unrestrained joy of seeing his first and best friend on the island alive and well. hell, i mean, it's easy to forget that shuro didn't really have anyone close to him too- and laios might very well be the first person he was this disgustingly direct and truthful with since he was a child. and when he goes back home, there won't be anyone else like laios there; his home is still the same. it's him that changed. and later on when he will recall all those years he spent on the island, he will realize how surprising it is that all the crazy stuff he witnessed don't hold a candle to the impact those few people he befriended there had on him.

of course, laios didn't realize it until then- shuro's reaction was indeed the one that surprised him the most- but at that moment he could absolutely feel how foolish he was to be so sure he will be hated and rejected after everything they went through. it's so important that it was shuro who greeted him so affectionately, after we saw laios brooding over their fight so much: it's shuro's acceptance that he was longing for the most.

with all that being said, the one last thing that drives me crazy is that the bell laios was given to use when he needed assistance most was still with him even after turning back into his human form. that tiny item he was shown to be quite careless with and yet never let go of until he wanted to be completely alone, thinking he should run away from everyone he loved; but it was too late, his friend already heard his cry for help.

and they all answered.

#😃😭😭😭😭#dungeon meshi #laios touden #toshiro nakamoto

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hollyhomburg · 3 days

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Before I Leave You (Pt.71)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Freedom isn't always a good thing... sometimes stupid pups get in trouble.

Tags: slight angst, lying, implied psychopath Jin, Confirmed autistic Jimin, discussion of murder and killing others, Jimin and Jin both have dubious morality, needy m/c, Frottage, Teasing, Knotting, knot-fucking, desperate sex, messiness kink, (slight) pleasure dom hobi 👀, public sex, riding, squirting, car sex

W/c: 15.6k

A/n: it's kinda crazy that this chapter, last chapter, and next chapter was supposed to be a single chapter (it would have been over 30k), this one is my least favorite out of the bunch! please give it a bunch of love when it comes out though 🥺 if you don't love it i'll be sad!

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

The pack goes back to work the next week, nursing hangovers and hurts and everything in between. Every injury both visible and not.

Hoseok's bruises get covered up by Tae's makeup every morning, color corrector applied in thin layers, and then foundation, and then Pink lipstick kisses over top. Tae's lips, your lips, everyone's lips, pressed to those thankful inches between Hoseok's head and his heart.

It becomes their little ritual- and on the nights that Hobi's nightmares keep him awake- her concealer goes under his eyes too. And his lips get pressed more reverently with kisses. Easing apart his tense pout and his frown like the sun parts petals into bloom. It's sweet, the way that Hoseok surrenders himself so willingly to Tae's doting.

Hoseok doesn't know if he likes the makeup as much as he likes the attention. From both you and her.

There’s barely a morning that you don’t wrap yourself around Hoseok’s back while Tae does his makeup, nuzzling against his nape, sneaking your cold hands under the hem of his sweatshirt. alternating between dragging your throat down the crest of his back so that everyone knows he has an omega to come home to, and sleeping curled between. Staying close to your alpha's (the easy ones, the ones that aren't still mad at you).

Hoseok's not the only one who's still dealing with the aftereffects of what happened. The physical side effects and the mental ones.

Jimin still says up and guards the door most nights too, perched on the edge of the nest listening for anyone or anything that might be coming to hurt you. The protective parts of him fester in the meantime before he heals enough to go back to work. He's got too much time on his hands to wory.

He's only diligent with his physical therapy because you tattle on him to Namjoon when he doesn’t do his exercises. Eager to be good, eager to do anything you can to please the pack alpha.

It hasn’t escaped any of them that you’ve been extra agreeable and extra obedient recently. Eager to please. Eager to make up for what happened. Jimin isn’t bothered by it so much- if only because having something to do seems to make you happy. He’ll gladly tolerate you hounding him.

Especially when you bound up to Namjoon to give him a report when he comes home from work, on the receiving end of a very genuine "good pup, making sure your alphas are careful' from Namjoon. especially on those days when that is the only praise that the pack alpha gives you.

It��s not that Namjoon and Yoongi have been treating you coldly, just that there’s a small distance between the two of them and you. Kisses that would have lasted minutes only last second (or they aren’t initiated at all when it comes to Yoongi). Jimin wishes it didn’t remind him of how Tae treated him after she came out but it does.

Hopefully, like with her, Namjoon and Yoongi just need time.

You ask him about it, midmorning stretched out in Tae’s library room where you both wait for her to finish deciding what dress she’ll torture you both with today. You three have taken to hanging out together here. You and Jimin cuddled up on the couch, doing PT, watching Tictok’s, napping, kissing cuddling. Placing shy touches below the pulled blankets to see how far you can go before Tae notices and stops you both with a disapproving lilt to her eyebrows.

“I said no sex- if you guys are gonna hang out with me while I work- you’ve gotta behave.”

You’d melted below the covers and Jimin had firmly placed his hands back over the covers, noticeably damper than they were the last time Tae saw them.

“Sorry mommy,” recalcitrant enough to avoid a spanking (but maybe that is what you’d wanted- what you’d needed). But getting scolded is part of the fun, teasing, seeing how far you can push each other until you break.

You'd squirmed against Jimin's thigh as she'd gone back to work. clicking away at her keyboard without giving you a second glance. "you're not even going to like, let him finish-" You're whiney. Need and wanting down to your bones, a wanting that is only heightened by the vision Tae strikes today; the peachy set of silky bloomers and ruffled top that shows off the little bit of cleavage she has now.

She'd just leaned over the back of her chair and eyed you up and down. "No, if you want to distract me from my book you can suffer pup."

You'd whined and Jimin had hid his laugh in your shoulder. "No buts pup. Maybe later, If you're good, then you can bounce on Jiminie's knot all pretty for me."

"Yes Mommy." But you hadn't ended up doing any of that. You'd fallen asleep curled up around Jiminie (whose hands had unfortunately remained on his phone and above the covers), to the others already awake and at home and would you please help water the plants with Hoseokie pup? You know he doesn't always notice when they overflow.

It’s been harder for you to ask for things since the day you almost ran away. A wanting that can't be sated by simple touches and kisses simmering low in your stomach. Burning through you at strange moments.

Like another moment when you and Jimin are in the library room again. Tae is reorganizing and fussing. What you'd call nesting if she was an omega. The desk is on the opposite wall today. it's Cramped, it won't stay like this for long. The couch moved below the bay window.

You watch Jimin's face as he looks out that window, at the way that the wind tears at the trees around your house, makes them bob and creek, showing the silvery underside of their leaves.

It’s easier for you to Jimin all sorts of questions because he’s not mad at you. (Sometimes you feel like he's the only one who's not mad at you for what you did.)

“Have you thought about how you’ll do it yet?”

The paranoid bits stretch out and teem. The worst part of Jimin have festered in the meantime. Maybe he'd be less restless if he had something to do but the danger has passed now.

Moonbyul seems like she’s truly gone, you’ve heard neither hide nor hair from her- absolutely nothing since the day that she left. No one from the family has tried to contact Yoongi. Even Jin’s unceremonious exit from the FBI had gone without struggle or suspicion.

Jimin had just continued to watch the window, the spring raindrops drifting down the pain of glass all slow. “Thought about how I’d do what?”

You’d raised your eyebrow at him, and thankfully Tae had come in and disrupted whatever conversation you might have had about murders that might need doing. Twirling in the doorway and showing off her slinky dark green lingerie for you and tae to oooh and ahhh at. Your questions forgotten.

Sleeping bears don’t do well when they’re poked. Jimin knows that. The others know that. It might seem pity as far as retribution goes (Jimin still gets angry when he sees the bruises on Hobi’s throat or watches Namjoon examine the scars that crisscross your hands, red and angry. Or the nights that tae twitches in her sleep).

Maybe the best retribution is to live like this- free and unincumbered by anything like revenge. Revenge is also a burden. Revenge means you still care about what happened to you, that it still hurts, that you're still bleeding. Jimin doesn't know if he wants to be bleeding anymore. His alpha that hungers for blood and pain wars with what Jimin knows will logically help the pack more.

But Jimin’s not the only one who's feeling a little paranoid. A little unfulfilled.

The pack instills a buddy system for those who go to work still and for any excursions outside the house. No one goes anywhere alone. Jin starts driving Namjoon to work every morning and picking him up every evening. With kisses and coffee and snacks, especially on the days that Namjoon has long surgeries and he comes home exhausted. Jin like Jimin is trying his hardest not to be too idle. He turns in his sparkly FBI badge and his weapon the first day he's sober enough to drive.

Your recipe book and an audio file of Jimin's, yours, and Yoongi's 'interviews' where you explain everything gets locked in a safe that Jin knows the code to. Gets built into the wall in the basement and plastered over. It’s an afterthought, something just in case (you’ll never need it).

There are a lot of other things for Jin to fixate on now. Not everything is good.

It’s a difficult conversation that Jin doesn’t want to have. Especially not with the pups. This is a conversation that’s too big, too stressful, too much for you to handle- that Jin is certain of.

You certainly look very pupish this morning, still dressed in the matching pink pj’s that Jin left out for you last night, you’d firmly followed his showering instructions not to scrub too hard and even let him button you into them and brush your hair (something you don’t always let Jin do, sometimes you ask for your mommy to do it instead and Tae takes that pleasure from Jin’s fingers with a feral smile).

Your body perfectly moisturized and taken care of, skin glowing and supple and healthy under Jin's inspectory touches. A perfectly obedient pup. So so good it had Jin purring and scenting you so thoroughly you’d gone sweet and dizzy and dependent.

But for once, for this morning, Jin feels like he's dependent on you.

The whole pack will be dependent on you financially. If you decide what Jin thinks you’ll choose.

Jin looks at you across the table (small, yawning, still sleepy, tipping into namjoon and clearly itching for an alpha and a nest) and can’t help but wonder if this conversation, this ask, is best left for later. After having so many difficult conversations in such a short period of time he's lost his taste for them.

Without Jin earning an income right now, the pack’s finances aren’t quite as orderly as they could be. As they should be. Hoseok, Jungkook, and Namjoon are the only ones working now, and Jimin won’t be bringing nearly as much in as he was before- something Jin knows the pup is worried about- he’d even asked if he should get a second job. Having any of his pups overworked is something Jin can’t handle.

And Namjoon is already overworked. Namjoon confessed a little thoughtlessly a few days ago after his first big surgery back- that it’s a good thing he hadn’t quit his job yet. He might not quit it at all now with the pack in limbo. That had been your last straw, and you’d asked Jin if there was anything you could do to help.

That’s a lie- you knew there was something you could do. Sitting in that little file that Moonbyul had dropped off with Hobi’s car all those months ago. The things you’d inherited from Geumjae’s estate as his late wife. The beach house abroad, the apartment in Miami, and the brownstone that had housed his final moments in a city far far away that you don’t ever want to return to.

What other use can it serve?

Yoongi had used most of his Geumjae’s life insurance payout to buy the house and renovate it. And you’ve been living off the leftovers since then, but even that sum won't last forever.

It's a good thing property in Manhattan never depreciates in value.

“This is a lot of money, and I’d understand if you didn’t want to-”

You roll your eyes at Jin, crossing your arms bratty, if Jin were less stressed he might be inclined to take you over his lap for that one. But he wants all of your faculties on board right now. Big financial decisions and omegaspace do not mix well.

Jin is to anxious about this to want to make you submit. Too worried about pushing you too far, asking you for something you might not want to give and overstepping. The clothes and doting are easier- Jin knows exactly how to take care of you that way. He knows exactly what you want when it comes to that.

“Jin, I do not give a shit, like honestly.”

Namjoon is wordless between the two of you, massaging down your and Jin’s necks to soothe you. You don’t understand why he’s pussyfooting around it. What Geumjae has left you and trying to find something to do with it, some way to help the pack, isn't something you're nervous or unsure about. Not even a little bit.

You don’t mind, you really don’t mind. If it helps them stay fat and happy, they can take all of it.

His eyes go softer, less cagey. You lean forward at the kitchen table. Reaching for his hand. He lets you take it. “Jin, just say it-” Jin bites his lip and throws the pen onto the table with a clatter.

“If you sell the house in New York City and put even like 1/3 of it into a trust. The pack would be set for the rest of our lives off the interest alone. Even more if we go the private equity route. Even our kids could-”

Tae calls from the library room, leaning back in her chair to shout through the open door. Clearly listening in on your conversation. “I am not raising trust fund pups hyung!”

Namjoon barks a laugh, “no one is talking about pups yet Tae” he strokes down the nape of Jin’s neck gently, delicately. And you know he’s fixated on the idea of /////yet and when that yet will become soon.

Jin's not getting any younger. Although you and Jungkook are still firmly in your 20's. Jin's going to have to make some big life decisions soon. Not this year and not the next. But the year after definitely.

It’s hard for Jin, to balance what he knows is logically here on the table and what is best for you. He's not sure that he'd make the same choice- the decision to support a pack that you have not known for a calendar year yet (although the anniversary of Jimin finding Yoongi again is sneaking up on you. You’ll have to figure out a day that you want as your anniversary.)

To make decisions with them in mind seems a little…illogical. From a practical perspective. Jin has had these sentiments shoved down his throat since he was a pup. all omega's have.

Don't mate someone until you've known them for a year, don't move in together until you've dated someone for 6 months, and certainly don't combine finances if you don’t like the shape of an alpha’s knot. be a strong independant omega!

You reach for your water and namjoon grabs it for you, holding it so that you can suck at the draw. putting it at the other end of the table to that you don't risk spilling it. wiping the moisture off the corner of your lip when he's done.

Jin huffs. Independance is never something you've wanted- clearly.

All said and done It’s an easy decision for you. Giving them space and time to heal after what you’ve brought down on them and a bit of financial freedom on top of your newfound physical freedom.

You don’t put 1/3 of it into a trust, you end up putting all of it after some discussion.

Jin handles everything involved with selling the brownstone. From contacting a broker to verifying through lawyers that still hold ownership over the property and getting everything notarized. He does all the legwork of opening up a fucking trust to put the frankly insane amount of money that the brownstone goes for in it. Your name on it because namjoon had insisted, and then the pack alpha and omega.

You’re incredibly thankful that you don’t have to go back to the city (especially since you hated it so much in winter and wet springs.) You don’t even bother going back there to get some of your things. You know it probably accumulated dust in the year since you’ve been there. Jin even contacts an estate sale company that sells all of your and Geumjae’s things.

Jin has spent most of his newly gotten free time doing exactly what he’s always done; taking care of his pups.

He’s got interviews with a therapist tomorrow for Hobi (this one has had a very cohesive background check done on him, Jin has learned his lesson). And there's a nail appointment on the books scheduled for Tae today, her hair appointment and facial 2 days from now. A doctor appointment for you and Jungkook the day after. A time slot for Hoseok’s car to get a tune-up later this week (after Jimin’s reckless driving it’s been running a little rough). And the final check-up with Jimin’s surgeon the day after.

You don't know how you'd keep everyone's appointment straight, but maybe that's why jin is the pack omega and you're not. Everything is where it should be. Jin rather enjoys it too.

Namjoon’s scrubs get steamed and hung up before he leaves for work every day, a lunch packed with cute heart-cut strawberries and carefully arranged rice and slices of chicken. Nesting materials warmed in the dryer before you and Jimin and Tae settle in for your mornings of undisturbed library time. Jungkook’s workout clothes color color-coordinated and his long hair brushed shiny and curly with a pat to his bum out the door.

Jin only realizes he might be going a little overboard when he starts a chart to monitor the pack's water consumption. You pressed along his spine trying to rub away your name on the little whiteboard. "If you make me drink that much water I'm gonna have to pee like all the time-"

"Careful," Yoongi had teased, voice rough and gravely from disuse. "You might make Jin want to keep track of that too."

Jin had hummed considering it genuinely, and you and Jimin had jumped up to drag him on to other things in the house before he got any ideas.

Jin spent the rest of this particular morning helping Tae do her hair. Jin’s pups need to look their best at all times. She curled the front, and Jin curled the back so that she didn't have to stretch her poor little arms. A kiss pressed to her knuckles and a "let Jinnie do it my pretty pup" sounded persuasive enough.

Everyone is pup to Jin right now. In his element. Playacting as the perfect house omega.

Jin and Jimin do their assessment while you, Tae, and Yoongi are at the nail salon.

It's a Wednesday and a few days before he goes back to work from injury leave. Although Jimin enjoyed the first week of lounging with you and Tae in the library room watching her write her story (and get predictably nothing done with you and him there to tempt her) now Jimin has gotten too antsy to settle. Going to the gym with Jungkook yesterday helped a little.

It’s the last snow for the season and the big fluffy flakes hit the window with a faint clink. Jin and Jimin have a few hours of privacy to get this done; the psychopathy assessment that Jimin had asked after the other day, drunk and on the floor of the kitchen bellies full of your sweets.

Jin should probably manage the packs sugar intake too.

His pack omega instincts are settled in a way they aren’t usually now sitting here with Jimin in the spare bedroom (a room that will one day become the pack’s nursery and pup nesting room. But Jin doesn’t know that yet).

Jimin lounges on the window seat and stares up at the sky while he talks and answers Jin’s questions. Jin sits, legs crossed in a big blue velvet chair that you and Hobi found on one of your thrifting walks the other day.

You’ve been going on more of those- walks with Jungkook and Hobi around the neighborhood when the weather is nice. to see the flowers- the daffodils and snowdrops and magnolias starting to bud. You stumbled into an estate sale last week where you bought all sorts of things including the velvet chair and an old rug that yoongi had sighed over and then relented, dragging it off to the basment to work on restoring it.

Jin knows you're working up to attending classes at Jungkook’s gym (you have an open invitation from Wonho). Jin will never not be proud of you, that you seem to be at least trying to get healthier and be more active.

He lounges with a notepad and a few printouts in front of him. A copy of the DSM-five is under the chair just in case he needs to reference it. His silk dressings gown is yellow and green striped with blue and pink floral decals on the shoulders. A tad more eccentric than Jin usually goes because this silk robe used to belong to Tae before she switched to pink everything, folded over his striped pajamas and fuzzy slippers. Pink, also Tae's.

It’s easier for Jimin to do this if he doesn’t have to stare at Jin's face, dewy underneath the thick-rimmed glasses. Jin has had more time to devote to his grooming now that he’s unemployed.

Jin listens, and Jimin talks for what feels like hours. laid out in his most comfy sweats set, also cleaned and pressed by Jin earlier (do sweatpants even need to be ironed?) This one is rough in all the right places, worn familiar from years of wear. Jin doesn't even know where Jimin got it- he checked but the tag had already been cut out, probably years ago.

It's strange, how easy it is to ignore things until you connect the dots.

He sits up towards the end looking at Jin and fiddling with the new earrings in his ears. Teasing at the loose cool chain with the tips of his fingers like noodle bats at the tassels on the edge of the curtain in Tae's library room. It's an absentminded action- Jimin's body is too loud for his mind to think of should and shouldn’t’s.

You've warned him time and time again that if he plays with the fresh piercings too much, they might get infected. Namjoon has done his best to dot disinfectant whenever he gets home and, in the morning, too sometimes.

But Jimin always always fiddles. He can't help it. Small bits of paper, the ends of his hoodie that somehow always end up in his mouth. Tae's hands, the soft little ends of Tae's hair, Tae's jewelry, Tae’s everything. It’s weird to see Jimin talking if he’s not fiddling with something.

He’s nervous, so he fiddles. Jin has notes and a completed screening form in front of him. Looking at Jimin now with fresh eyes Jin doesn’t know how he never noticed. How he never put it together.

The psychopathy assessment below taunts Jin.

Failure to conform to social norms concerning lawful behaviors, such as performing acts that are grounds for arrest. Deceitfulness, repeated lying, use of aliases, or conning others for pleasure or personal profit. Lack of remorse, being indifferent to or rationalizing having hurt, mistreated, or stolen from another person

"And did it bother you? When you killed those people?"

"Those bad people hyung," Jimin corrects, and Jin can't help his smile.

"Did it bother you when you killed the bad people, Minnie?"

Jimin fiddles, quiet, like he doesn’t want to admit it. "Only when it got messy."

"Why do you think the mess bothered you?" Jin’s asking half because he wants to know, and half because he’s genuinely curious.

Jimin’s hands rub up and down his knees and he shifts forward than backward. But his words come out even and measured. "Because it wasn't the way it was supposed to go- the way I organize it in my head, the same way you probably think through what clothes will make Namjoonie hyung blush the most. It didn't happen the way it should have."

Monsters aren't supposed to bleed.

"The only way I don't get overwhelmed by things is whey I make sure they happen they way they should."

"What does it feel like when you get overwhelmed minnie?"

"It's like- fear I think? My chest gets really tight, and everything gets extra extra loud. It makes my alpha like- riled. And I have to remind myself that I don't need to get angry about it."

They move on to other topics, different than Jimin’s apparent lack of remorse (it's not lack of remorse, but conditional remorse. Jimin only feels within the firm lines of what he believes he should feel) But they circle back to it because Jimin uses the words ‘bad people’ more than once.

"Why do you think that they needed to be bad to kill them? Why does if they were bad matter to you so much?"

"Because that’s the rule- bad people are supposed to die, aren’t they?" Jin cannot fault Jimin for that- because it is the rule. Generally. You do not Mourne monsters. You do not Mourne the villains.

"I'm not so sure about that, plenty of bad people never get punished."

"Like Moonbyul and me you mean?" Jin almost breaks the pen he's holding, almost.

"Do you believe that you're a bad person Minnie?"

Jimin bites his lips, looking down and away, not fidgeting at all. But his teeth work away at his lip. It takes a second for him to gather his words, a second to respond. Jimin has always been hard to read.

"I was hoping you would tell me. I can’t ask Tae. She wouldn’t be able to tell me the truth."

No, Jin always noticed. He just didn’t think of it beyond late-night musings wrapped in Namjoon’s arms. Gossiping about their pack because If there’s one thing that the pack omega and pack alpha like to talk about- it’s their 6 pups. They used to gossip about you the most that way- but Namjoon has been resistant to discuss you recently and Jin doesn't have to ask why.

He sees the conflict and love in his soulmate as easily as he sees the diagnosis written out on the paper right now. He'll check the DSM later for autism spectrum disorder but he won't find anything that varies from his notes.

Uses only limited facial expressions to communicate, frequently flicking switches or spinning objects, speaking in a repetitive way, narrow or intense interests, having trouble with changes to their schedule or changing from one activity to another, and hyper-reactivity to sensory input.

Sometimes talking about things too seriously does more damage. Jin keeps that particular diagnosis to himself.

Jimin looks at him imploringly, not reaching out to touch, because maybe Jimin is a little too overstimulated right now from bearing his heart to initiate contact. His eyes are bright and hopeful. They are not glassy and vacant. Jin has looked at countless pictures of psychopaths before- and none of them have eyes quite like Jimin's

They’ve been at it for 4 hours already, Jin has gotten up twice to pee when Jimin sits up without the intention of lying back down.

"So, what do you think hyung? Am I crazy? Am I a psychopath?"

I think you're a whole lot of things Minnie. Autistic for one with a hyper fixation on the people you love, Tae in particular.

Jin winces, looking Jimin up and down, and the alpha flushes but stays still under Jin’s evaluation. His sensory issues are painfully on display in an extra big sweatshirt, the ends of his sweatshirt pulled loose so that they're not tight around his wrists. His hips, baggy pants, and slides. Jimin’s toes flex, like he can’t help but push at the one item of clothing that constrains him.

He never has the same problem with the neat dark suits that his bodyguard job makes him wear. When Jimin knows what's expected of him- he doesn't have a problem following the rules or lying.

Bad people die. That's the rule, isn't it? Jin has a tallied kill count on the corner of the page, every time Jimin references a different murder over the last 5 hours, Jin has added a tally.

He's run out of room on the notepad.

Jin will bring it up to him later. Will tell him later, to be sure. Jimin asks after something much scarier, much more dangerous to his pack right now. Jin will do anything he needs to do to protect his pack- and that's part of the problem.

There are things that Jimin doesn’t need to know.

Jin covers that evaluation with his fingers. Only a few words are viewable between the narrow edges of his long fingers.

A peculiar lack of empathy, but not a lack of anxiety. An ability to distinguish between right and wrong but not an inherent understanding of those concepts. A tendency to lie. But is that really so scandalous? So damning? Is lying not a necessity and an instinct when the truth can do so much damage? Would Jin blame anyone for lying about these things?

“I do think that psychopaths don’t wonder if they’re psychopaths Jimin. Asking these questions of yourself isn’t a bad thing. If you were crazy, I’m not sure you’d care to be here.” And you’d be trying to convince me too.

Jin stands up and walks over to Jimin the one or two steps. Leaving his notepad behind to cup Jimin’s cheek, running his thumb along the alpha’s plush lips. Jimin’s eyes are wide and glassy, unable to tear themselves away from Jin. Jin’s omega wants to purr at the show of devotion, at the sight of Jimin below him almost on his knees. Jimin places a gentle palm on Jin’s thigh, Just to feel.

"I don't think you're crazy Jimin, I just think you're an alpha who will do anything for the people you love." Is it lying if he believes it to be the truth?

"And there's nothing wrong with that?" Jimin asks, Jimin’s hand fiddled with the tasseled end of Jin’s dressing gown with a delightful shiver of sensory pleasure.

Jin leans down and presses his lips to the alpha’s brow. Jimin almost sags against Jin’s front.

"There's nothing wrong with that at all. Come with Jinnie. It's well past time for lunch, and I won't be able to stand it if my pups are left unfed."

~-~

Jin spends his days gloriously unemployed putting the pack back together piece by treasured piece. But that’s not the only thing that needs his healing touch.

He spends most of his time helping Yoongi restore the house to its former glory. Switching out crown molding and cracked wall sconces. He rarely ever changes out of his matching pajamas and matching pink sweat sets even if they get speckled with dust and wood stain and eventually paint. He thoroughly enjoys sitting elbow to elbow with Yoongi and just- living. Just existing next to the beta without any thoughts or secrets between them.

They don’t talk much, sometimes Yoongi plays music, and sometimes he picks the paint splatters out of Jin’s hair, or the splinters out from his fingers oh so gently. Yoongi’s been quieter since everything went down- if that even seems possible. Less likely to joke, the smiles when Jin puts his paint-splattered hands-on Yoongi’s ass don’t last quite so long.

But unlike with Jimin, any words of wisdom and questions aren’t met receptively; Yoongi just walks away. And Jin knows he’s not ready to talk about it yet. Jin worries that your and his relationship is only part of the problem.

It’s a good thing Yoongi’s fairly organized and has kept all the paint buckets in the coat closet under the stairs. He teaches Jin how to fill the bullet holes in the banister with wood filler and sand it down. The muddy stain sits until they can hardly tell. After a few days of their hard work, it feels like the last few weeks are just a bad memory.

He spends his afternoons polishing away the bullet holes in the antique doorframes, re-spackling the parts of the wall you crashed into that got indented. Every little fleck of blood that leaves even the barest hint of a stain against the ceiling. The drywall cut out and replaced in certain spots. They spend it in companionable silence and Jin tells himself that staying by Yoongi’s side is enough.

Now that the pack knows that they’re not going to be discovered right away there is time to take care of the evidence beyond just bleach and cleaner. The cops haven’t come to their door even once. Not even a noise complaint from your days of revelry.

They're meticulous in the way that they check over every inch of the house. Jin goes over everything with luminol and a blacklight just to be sure. The bights of Yoongi’s eyes extra white as he watches. But no one is better at covering up a murder than them. (If they had a mind for it, they might have a handy side business. Jin jokes, but Yoongi just huffs and doesn't dignify it with a response.)

They dig up the body later.

They make sure everyone else is out of the house. Tae’s hair appointment serves several purposes beyond making sure the pack's prettiest alpha feels her best. Tae goes a little lighter- blonder, less red, and more chestnut. Long and brushing past her shoulders now. Perfect for the spring that hovers on the edge of every breath of warm air.

It won’t be long now. The daffodils are already coming up in places in the front yard. Yellow and bright and happy.

They put the man in a metal bucket, fraying clothes and all. Jimin and Jin mix up the chemicals wearing full hazmat suits. Lye bubbles and burns and leaves little left of the man other than some errant buttons that must have been on his pants and a twisted mess of a zipper.

Jin and Jimin toss them into the fireplace upstairs before anyone gets home, watching as they bubble and burn and disappear like a bad memory. The assassin and lye slurry gets poured down the drain, and carried out to the ocean to find rest- no longer haunting you. Yoongi mixes up more concrete and pours the hole and it’s like it never happened, like Tae and you never murdered that man.

When the pack gets home Jin has picked a few daffodils, put them on the kitchen table, and opened up all the windows. Tae twirls when Jimin asks to show him her hair. The way it falls in pretty ringlets.

"Beautiful"

“Fumigation” Jin will tell their neighbors when they ask about the smell. the subtly tangy chemicals that fill the culdisac. "You know our cat, the angry one, brought a whole punch of pests in. You might want to test your basement too."

Jin is the best liar in the pack for a reason.

You come home laden with bags and just cuz gifts. You’d gotten your hair trimmed and Jungkook too- tight on the sides and long on the top. Jungkook’s bought new star-shaped pillows to go with the light blue couch and Namjoon brings home a pink moon one for you. A stuffed animal one with floppy feet and a tastefully neutral expression that you clutch to your chest during movie nights.

On nights like tonight, when it's so quiet that you need something soft to hold onto- least you remember other deceptively quiet nights.

The rain outside has lulled to a gentle pitter patter and the pack is likewise lulled to a similarly gentle sleep. Moving this way and that, settling like the bones of the house that creek with every harsh gust of wind. Asleep around you in heaps.

You nested earlier with Jin and Jungkook- fluffed every pillow and folded every blanket. It’s not quite as fluffy as your old couch but it is bigger, large enough to accommodate everyone lying this way and that. Jin purrs are sleep deep and soft. Almost pearly in the nighttime.

It's so quiet.

Your hair catches the highlights of the TV screen when it bursts bright and colorful. Hobi twirls a lock of your hair around his fingers while the movie drones on. Animated this time- because none of you have had the stomach for any movie that features too much violence. Nothing lifelike yet. You’ll stick to familiar fantasies in the meantime.

You're curled on your side and stretched out, your feet in Namjoon's lap. The top of your head so close to Hobi's thigh that you can feel the warmth of it along the top of your head. You're not touching him. But his warmth and safe alpha musk is close and thick. More satisfying to your nesting instincts than any blanket, to have your alpha nearby and alert.

Not that you're not welcome, Noodle occupied that spot until recently. Yawning and slinking off with a jingle of his bell collar once Hobi alternated from petting him to petting you.

He twirls a lock of your hair around his finger and watches the movie.

It’s a movie that you've seen before. It's familiar backtrack the perfect thing to fall asleep to here. The room is dark. The blue-red then pink light of the television flashes with scenes. Sounds too far away as your eyes get heavier and heavier. You're not the only one who's clearly feeling the effects of the nighttime or the smooth unaffected happy scents of your packmates.

Tae in particular smells rich and flowery, happy sprawled out between Jungkook and Jimin and Yoongi. Jimin’s hand sits under the hem of her white tank top, the translucent lace edge hides the movements of his fingers as he strokes up and over her hip lazily. Your mate's face is hidden in her hair, and Jungkook is belly down draped over their legs. Your mate's long fingers rest still against his spine. His shirt pulled up to the small of his back. His small huffs are infrequent and gentle. Like a puppy twitching in their sleep.

Namjoon's loud snore punctuates the quiet from the other side of the couch, his head tipped back against the cushions at an uncomfortable angle. Lost to the world like Jinnie tucked small into his side. His cheek fluffy and resting against the hollow of the pack alpha’s throat. Nose tucked to the safest place in existence.

Well, maybe the second safest. Hoseok’s lap is empty afterall.

You never would have said that Jin was skinny or waifish before, but after quitting his job it’s clear that the stress was affecting him. He looks healthier now. Less sallow-skinned and the space under his eyes is less hollow. Jungkook too has a pink glow to his cheeks- although that might just be where he’s rubbed it raw over Tae’s tight And Jimin’s side. He’s half asleep while he scents them. He mumbles and grumbles something like a purr before he goes quiet and still.

Even Yoongi at the end of the couch, has his eyes closed, although you can tell they’re moving under his eyelids, his breath coming out with little huffs that tease the top of Jimin’s hair, sock feet stretched out. You close your eyes and open them, eyes drawn to yoongi at first sight. he's always the first person you look for when you open your eyes.

Only to see Noodle purring from his lap. Your and Hobi's company abandoned in favor of his new favorite person.

“Traitor,” you mumble. Hobi laughs quietly.

"We should take his treats until he comes back to us."

"Noodle? or Yoongi?"

"Both." you giggle and turn onto your side.

His fingernails itch down the back of your neck, not a scruff but close and you turn till you're belly down on the couch so that he has a better vantage point to play with your hair. Your eyes flutter, and when they open again Hobi is still staring at the screen. You're the only two awake and half his face is colored green from the movie.

When you look at the screen- Howl and Sophie are traipsing across flower-filled fields. colorful and bright.

"We should find a place like that, when spring really starts up in a few weeks."

Hoseok's eyes are dark and reflective when he looks down at you, huffing fondly, teasing, "are you asking me out on a date?"

"Maybe. You gonna say yes if I am?"

"Maybe." He teases, and you reach up to pinch his thigh, he takes your hand before you can and holds it, pinning it up there on his thigh. You tangle your hand with his pant leg and leave it there. He goes back to watching the movie and you go back to watching him. Quiet and peaceful in the silence of gentle nighttime

“It always bothered me” Hobi knows you’re watching him. Even without looking down. Yoongi's other hand rests on the back of his neck, you see his slack fingers twitch when he looks at you.

“What?”

“He didn’t use real flower types when he animated this- they sort of look like cow vetch- but they’re not.”

You snort, rubbing your eye, “only you would complain about the flowers in Howls Moving Castle.”

Hobi huffs, his fingers trailing over your forehead gently, smoothing out the crease between your eyebrows. Hand sliding to your shoulder under your arm.

"Come here, I don't bite." You go with little protest. You let him usher you up onto your knees, scooting across the couch until your head and most of your body is sitting in his lap. Laying your heavy body down. You tuck your legs to the side and someone else other than Namjoon snores but it doesn’t matter who. The eight of you tangled here.

"We should wake everyone up and go upstairs."

"Leave them for a minute. This is my favorite part."

He hesitates, looking down at you, then slowly, like his hand can feel the weight of the gesture, he draws your hair away from your face, the pads of his fingers brushing the corner where your ear becomes your jaw, his pulse by your ear visible in every little tremble. You breathe, and Hobi touches your neck, just mindless circles, eyes eventually drawn back to the TV.

“This place is gorgeous Howl! it’s like a dream.”

You swallow, and you suddenly feel more awake than you have in years, in months. It's frightening the sudden clarity at which you are aware of him- of everything. The softness of his faintly calloused hands, the feeling of his flannel pj's rough under your cheek. The smell of the peach-scented body wash he must have used in the shower earlier. Everything about him in frightening clarity.

You like the way he's touching you, over your cheek and down your throat. None of you doesn't like it. None of you is afraid of what Hoseok might do next. You're not even thinking about it. An alpha has his hands on your neck and you feel-

You feel perfectly at ease, perfectly happy, perfectly in love.

It's like you've been sleepwalking this whole time, or maybe that your soul has taken a vacation, forsaken your body for greener pastures, and then snapped back to this moment right now. Your belly feels full of almost there laughter. You're tired but you're not exhausted. Your shoulders don’t even ache. There isn’t a lump in your throat.

Your breath is so smooth and so easy when you exhale and inhale. You can breathe.

Hobi’s face flashes blue, then the brightest chartreuse. His hand finds the popcorn bowl, and part of it misses, hitting somewhere in your hair but you don’t care at all. You look up at him, watching. Chest going all tight again- your body is fighting it, whatever this feeling is. You're simultaneously more awake than you've ever been and suddenly- not sure if you're not sleeping.

His wrist is over your nose and you nuzzle into it as he reaches for another handful of popcorn, fighting back tears. even as one curl falls from his overful fist and hits your face.

He mindlessly picks the popcorn out of your hair, eating it anyway (at least Jungkook didn't put too much butter in it) He doesn't realize that something is very wrong yet (that something is very very right).

“Sorry.”

“S’fine”

Hobi goes back to watching the movie and you wait a few more minutes, a few more seconds fighting back tears, before you disturb the quiet again.

"Hobi," Your voice is quiet and scratching. He doesn't hear you over the movie. Not at first.

Your heart is so thick in your throat and you stretch out. Your body is truly lax for what feels like the first time in ages. Not a bit of tension in your muscles. Your head doesn’t feel so heavy, and that vaguely sick feeling that’s always sort of in your stomach is gone. You breathe and it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t feel tight. It’s easy.

Namjoon mumbles near your feet. And Jimin lies Tae down more properly, disturbing Yoongi a little, Noodle hops off his lap and slinks off into the darkness, and everyone re-settles. Everything is slow and simple.

And safe.

Your hand goes vicelike on Hobi’s wrist and he looks down at you, inhaling sharply. There is no hatred in his face, though there hasn't been in months. There is nothing in his eyes besides the most blush pink love, a love that speaks of roses and bumblebees and butterflies- every other small flying thing that has nurtured the world to life. The panic is immediate. This is not a feeling that you are used to. This is not a feeling that you remember.

You don't remember the last time you felt safe.

"I feel- Hobi I feel safe. I feel so safe right now- Hobi- I can't-"

You’re frantic with the knowledge of it, words rushed and a little panicked, you’ve forgotten this feeling, how complete and peaceful it is. Peaceful and yet panicked because this is not a feeling that you're used to.

The knowledge thrums through you, the relief choking you with its pretty purple vines. His hands go ridged in your hair, knotting a little before they smooth it out. Your scent- it's not unhappy, but it is pungent. Hobi curls his body over you, bowing to protect it from any unseen threat. He would protect you from anything that came through the front door. Anyone.

He smiles down at you gently, petting your throat, down the side of your body. Oh so gentle. "I know it's- it's good, right? It's okay. Right?"

"Yeah- it's okay, it’s-"

And it is okay. More than okay. It’s okay even when the tears form at the corner of your eyes and find their death in Hobi’s lips as he leans lower to kiss them away so softly you hardly feel it. He knows what this is. He’s happy to hold you through it, the first time your body has let go. Relinquished the tightness and control of being on edge. That little thing that makes prey animals prey animals. The part of you that has always been more animal than human, more fight and flight than fawn.

But you're safe now, all the hard things are over. all the hard things aren't heavy anymore because you're safe. Here in Hobi's lap, here in the house that Yoongi made for you all. You're safe.

It’s a feeling you can’t explain. Like why the snow smells clean and why the air smells like a memory sometimes. Safety is one of those intangible things, you know when it’s here and when it’s gone.

He only hopes that this time, it’s here to stay.

You feel safe in his arms, and you feel safe when minutes later Namjoon wakes from a particularly loud snore. You're asleep finally, but your name is the first on his lips.

Namjoon smacks his lips, scenting the distress on the air without opening his eyes. “Pups? What’s wrong?"

Hobi smiles at Joon, his half-asleep pack alpha brain running paces while his instincts have gone miles. "It's okay Joon, she's just happy, go back to sleep."

"Okay, love you," the pack alpha grumbles out. Curling back over Jin’s body with his, all but pinning the pack omega to the couch. Jin just purrs louder.

"Love you too Joonie." Hobi looks down at you, holding you in his lap, and thinks. Yeah, we're both gonna be safe, aren't we?

(When you wake in the morning, you’re back in the nest upstairs. You smell like Hobi and Yoongi and You don’t remember being carried there at all; you just remember the comfort.)

~-~

You do not spend the next week helping Yoongi and Jin fix the house. you spend the next week baking.

Luckily the kitchen escaped most of the damage in your gunfight. Everything is unharmed except for a small spot by the coffee station where a bullet lodged itself in the drywall and one spot in the blue tile backsplash that needs re-doing.

Yoongi waits for that last, hovering, watching you hum along to the music and scoop out things into little trays. Onto the baking pans, you do not catch him watching. But when a glass breaks, he's there waiting with a dustpan to sweep it up.

He doesn't manage to protect you against every hurt however. there are some things that you just can't anticipate.

You go through every recipe you’ve ever made, honey cakes and macarons that take several tries to get right. Pretty Raspberry Charlottes with meticulously arranged raspberries and ladyfingers. Chocolate cookies with crackly tops. Red bean buns and pineapple cakes.

You make everything in your cookbook once and then again. Tweaking the recipes and adjusting them to copy them over into a new recipie book that Hoseok gets you.

(It's not a courting present, it's not- he swears)

(It's totally a courting present)

The book has a thick pink cover, a snap-in binding so that you can take pages in and out at will. And a small pink tulip on the front cover that quickly gets stained with butter, lemon juice, and a tiny tiny bit of blood.

“You need to be more careful.” yoongi says, in his pj’s. hair all spiky from where jin gave it a fresh cut in the kitchen last night. Short enough that it makes his cheeks look all chubby. A band-aid in his hands. You’re pretty sure there’s still a little bit of his hair on the kitchen floor, but you’ve never been one to complain about that sort of thing so you let it slide. you let namjoon wrap your finger with the bandaid with a small whine.

"I was being careful- I just-"

“I was watching her hyung,” Jimin says, a little fluffy, a little ruffled. His headphones pulsing dully around his throat. You read between the lines with that and make no comment. I was watching her hyung, I know she didn’t do it on purpose.

You got him a pair of nice over-the-ear headphones last week and picked them out with Hobi’s help. They’re the kind that makes everything- even the most grating hum – ease away into silence. Your gift has helped a lot more than any of them anticipated when you’d first set out on your “let's figure out what makes Jimin have grumpy pup time” Adventure.

Some things had been easy, and routine. No microfiber, no oily foods. other things are less anticipated- his leg hair. A trigger he didn’t even know he had. Discovered after he watched Tae shave in the bathroom, the air all hot, the sudsy pool of water foaming pink as Tae filled it up and sat on the edge. Jimin's heavy eyes followed her as he asked why she does it, why you do it too.

"Wow It's like- really smooth."

"Can I try?"

"Are you sure you don't just want to feel?"

"I'm sure."

Tae had shaved him, oh so gently, gripping around the back of his knees. and Jimin hadn't realized, hadn't known what kind of effect it had on him until he was sitting in the nest in utter bliss a solid hour afterward. Rubbing his legs together like a cricket, absolutely lost to the sensation of skin on skin and no tugging.

"Can you do it tomorrow? Please? I wanna feel like this every day," a relaxed laugh warping his words. "Wow leg hair like totally sucks- I didn't know I didn't- I didn't know at all, I didn't realize-"

There are so many things you don't realize that hurt. You and Tae hand cuddled up close to him, rubbing up and down his thighs to feel how soft Minnie's skin actually was. Gentle. Your touches ease away his distress.

"Sorry Minnie, it won’t feel the same, you have to wait a few days for it to grow out."

So no leg hair, no sellophane. Absolutely no tags on clothing. Headphones when things get too loud. Jimin goes quiet and soft and gentle with the headphones. He tries not to wear them all the time, but when the house goes particularly loud in the afternoons after he's come home from work- it's become his new favorite thing. To sit in Tae's library room with her and enjoy a few moments of companionable quiet.

It's good, it makes you happy that Jimin is leaning a bit more into the sensory stuff than usual since his tentative diagnosis from Jin. The rest of the pack had completely accepted it, almost without a second thought. A few careful nuzzles and a few reassuring kisses.

Jungkook had immediately set out to make a list of Jimin’s safe foods. “I don’t know if I even have any- I don’t know if it’s like an autism sensory thing Jinnie just said that I’ve got something.” But the secretive looks Jin had sent the rest of you had been proof enough. You all believe the pack omega’s words like they’re gospel. And really- when it just comes to loving the people you love and listening to them to love them better that's an easy concession to make.

And it's also a little fucking cute when Jimin leans into the sensory stuff. Yoongi ruffles his hair now where the headphones sat Making the hair that it pressed down poof up again.

“It’s okay Minnie, accidents happen.”

Everyone’s been sensitive to Minnie recently. So careful and intentional with the way that they love him. So much so that they’re letting other things slip through the cracks.

It’s not a big deal. It’s really not- you’d gotten used to a certain level of contact from them over the past few months and while you never audibly complain about it and you’d never admit it. One fact remains; unavoidable and inescapable, haunting you in your simple moments.

You’re fucking needy.

You can only take so much- so many times of Jungkook coming home with the front of his shirt sweat-damp from a run, pulling up and showing off his abs too cool off. Of Namjoon when he changes into pajamas, tiny little shorts that show off all his thighs straining and pulling. Jimin when he’s stretched out, fiddling with the hem of his shirt, all growly and close to Tae whose skirt is pulling high.

Your mate washing his hands in the sink definitely shouldn’t leave you with your mouth dry, slinking off to the upstairs bathroom to clean up just so that no one scents it on you.

It’s embarrassing. You feel like a freshly presented pup.

No one has…sought you out since your little mishap. No one has let their hungry touches linger and go hungrier. No one has given you exactly what you know you need since Hobi- before Moonbyul. Almost 3 weeks ago now.

But to put pressure on them now, when it’s clear that maybe- you need to tread lightly when you already have so much to apologize for. It Feels like too much too soon. You’re not a monster- you can control yourself.

In the meantime, you bake your heart away. Needing something to get your mind off them. The whole house is littered with powdered sugar and sawdust, dusted with frosting and wood filler. There isn’t a single shelf left in the fridge that isn’t covered with cakes or sticky custard tarts, or personal cheesecakes topped pretty with heart-cut strawberries.

The only one Jimin had said was slightly grating to him was the super sticky raspberry tarts. So Tae feeds them to him with a giggle, then Yoongi leans in close, demanding the same treatment, his lips gently swallowing tae's long fingers whole.

You shiver and watch.

"It's so sticky," Yoongi licks forward, lapping at tae's fingers, "but sweet!"

You can't stop your hungry look as you watch Tae lick the whipped cream off the top of a tart, her tongue darting out to lick over her lips. feeding tae a bit of whipped cream. some of it gets on his face and jimin smacks his pulsh lips, glossy.

You feel like you want to smack your face into the table. You actually do grip it hard. You wonder if it's normal, to want so much. To want things so hard. your cheeks feel so hot you might be able to back cookies off them.

Breath crusts your ear, lips just barely brushing your skin "these are really yummy."

You jump, Hobi's next to you and he grins, his fingers traitorously resting on the edge of the counter and you know he knows exactly what you were just thinking. What you were just wanting. You blush hot and needy, embarrassed at being caught staring at them. Busying yourself with pulling the remaining tarts off the drying rack and packing them away with parchment paper.

Tae's cheeks are speckled with powdered sugar. And she giggles- completely unaware of your obvious wanting. You nibble just a little at your own pastry. Appetite is suspiciously silent.

Jimin’s definitely not absorbing your conversation either, too busy watching Tae just like you were. Yoongi slinks off with a quiet thank you- intent on completing whatever project he's currently working on.

Jimin's eyes flick up and down Tae's face. Honed in, unable to look away. "The eye glitter-"

"Eyeshadow Minnie," Tae corrects, a little meanly, a little know-it-all in her tone. The same exact what she gets when she takes her knot and tells you exactly how to-

You need to get a grip. You forcefully turn away from the two of them and flip through your new recipe book. Searching for something sweeter, something else you can make other than fixate on this.

You clench your thighs together and watch Jimin cup Tae’s cheeks, her neck, hands skimming down her waist hungrily.

Jimin lets out a little pent-up breath, "It's like- super mesmerizing today- can you show me which one-"

Tae pulls him up from the table with a sweet giggle, leading him into the other room- Jimin looks a little dazed, stumbling on the carpet as he goes. Hoseok laughs and plucks another cookie from the tray before he helps you put them back inside, shaking his head.

These have powdered sugar on them too, you watch Hobi lick the white from his fingers. Hobi has nice hands, nobly in all the right places. You let out a breath and he licks them again, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Are you like okay or-"

"I'm fine." You whine, a little petulently. Setting down the container a little hard. Hobi laughs, and you wish it didn't make your knees a little weak. You need to get it together. You set the back of your hand against your flaming cheeks.

The fact of the matter is that You've gotten used to a certain amount of attention from the pack. Your body mostly, has gotten used to the near constant attention. Since everything happened, people have been- warming up to it slowly. Baking is also a good way for you to mediated away your sexual frustrations, bury them deep below layers of dough and batter and sparkly sugar.

Hobi's hand scratches under the hem of his shirt and you let out a heavy breath. He looks over at you and his nostrils flare.

"So, ugh- what's next- what are you baking next?"

"I wanna try to make this recipe I saw on Ticktok but I'm out of powdered sugar so-"

"You want me to drive you?" Your eyes flicker up. And you perk up at the idea of getting out of the house right now.

"Yes," you say, is your voice shaky? Are you the only one who notices the way that Hoseok's hand curls over his keys? or the way that you move restlessly? Pent up.

You leave, you tell others, but you find it hard to look away from Hoseok long enough to send a text to the group chat The same way that it was hard for Jimin to look away from Tae.

You make it to the store without any sort of comment from him, anything beyond his hand and your hand intertwined over the center console. Although you do see Hobi's mouth quirk as you stare and stare and stare.

There is something unfairly attractive about the way that Hoseok drives; one hand on the back of your headrest to back in the car. Something that makes you feel like you're melting when he follows you around the store. Taking one step for every two of yours, slow and leisurely, lingering close behind you protectively as you debate milk chocolate and semi-sweet. Reaching over you to get the sugar from the top shelf. His bicep brushing the top of your head.

Your jeans have rips in them, a courting gift from Tae who claimed they were cute (the pockets on the back are heart-shaped) His index and middle finger stay tucked into the back pocket of them, tugging you back close when you almost step in front of someone's cart, his thumb resting on the hollow of your back. Rubbing.

But when he gets into the car he pauses, "do you want to-"

"The beach?"

He swallows hard, "yeah- just for a bit?"

You drive, and instead of returning your hands to the center console Hobi’s hand creeps, settling on your knee. Hobi hooks his finger into the biggest rip in your jeans, one on your upper thigh, stroking the skin higher and higher. You go still, look down, and watch his hands rub smooth circles on your inner thigh.

Hoseok has very pretty hands.

A heat creeps up the back of your neck as Hobi keeps his eyes on the road and not on you. You try not to squirm, not to close your legs either. Although you know he'll be able to smell and feel your slick if he keeps it up for too long. You know your scent is swelling treacherously sweet, but you hope he won't comment- won't notice.

But when he pulls into the parking lot and the ocean is right there, turning dark green and a little violent at high tide. The air is stormy but sweet through the cracked windows. He turns to you, already smirking. The quirk of his lips teases and you realize he knows exactly what he's been doing to you this whole time.

You're already shoving his hand off of you, and he laughs at your flaming cheeks. "Oh my god shut up-"

"I didn't say anything."

"Oh, you little shit-" Hoseok grins.

"You're cute when you're flustered from being teased."

"Call me cute one more fucking-"

"Cute."

You put your head between your knees and actually scream. It's soft, not all that loud. Hoseok's laugh is louder as he throws his head back. And you regret ever making the mistake of falling in love with your best friend.

"Oh my god you are totally getting horny because of a car-"

"It's not the fucking car-" you whine, almost petulant.

"Oh, so it's me then?" The way Hoseok raises his eyebrow at you makes you want to scream. The smirk that has your omegan instincts rankled back on his stupidly pretty face.

"And if it is?"

Hoseok grins, reaching over to cup your cheek in his hand. Pinching the sides so that your lips push out. Holding you hard so that you can't squirm away.

"Then c'm here."

There are other things that you both crave beyond sugar and sweets. kisses that turn into giggles. Hoseok's lips move, good and gentle for a second. Exactly what you need, what you've been craving. His kisses offer a little relief.

And then he bites your lower lip.

It smells like gasoline and sea salt and blood when you pull it apart. rubbing at your stinging lip, a little angry. You're not bleeding, but it feels like you could be. A Hoseok-shaped space over your heart, wrenched clean, bleeding because where he sits is so far. If the distance and wanting could make you bleed- you would be.

(Hoseok bit you to keep you close because, for a second, it felt like you were about to pull back. His alpha didn't like that.)

You bristle an omega that needs settling. Hoseok almost wants to bare his teeth at how on edge it makes him. You smell so needy. Sticky sweet the way that Jungkook does sometimes. Hoseok's half surprised that the other omega didn't get to you before he did. Usually, Jungkook is the kinda of packmate who notices these things.

You flush hot. Half anger, half wanting. "Bitch-"

Hoseok reaches down between his legs for the lever under the seat to push it back. He pushes his seat away from the steering wheel and makes room for you. He parts his legs wide and gestures to his lap.

"I said come here."

The beach is empty and so is your part of the parking lot. It's getting late, past sunset and into twilight. The butter in the back seat of the car gathers condensation and starts to thaw but you don't even think about it a little bit.

You don't think about the people who might be nearby, the people who Could clearly see what you're doing in the car as you clamber over the center console. You leave your shoes behind in the passenger seat (you already have a habit of taking them off in the car). Bruising knees as you move over to the driver’s seat planting hungry kisses along Hobi's cheek, his jaw, every inch of his skin that you can reach, and then his lips finally. So shaky with wanting that you're clumsy. gripping the front of his shirt.

You can feel his grin against every kiss. You can feel it when he starts to grimace and you pull back. Hobi winces covering your banged knee with his big palm. You'll definitely have a bruise tomorrow.

You just take his hand and put it on your hip higher, and he raises an eyebrow at your brazenness. "Wow, you really want it huh?" He taunts, and you melt against his front past the point of pretending that you're not fucking needy, that you don't need him and need this right now if he's willing to give it.

"Hobi please-"

He just laughs at you, "though you were gonna spontaneously combust watching Yoongi eat that tart- it was fucking hilarious."

You whine high and needy. But he likes to tease, and you like he when he teases. Is this what having sex with your best friend is like? All jokes and jabs and fun. It feels nice when you can feel Hobi's laugh this way. Pressed against your stomach when you shimmy closer. It’s a bit cold, but he's warm and big against your front sitting in his lap like that.

You lean back, and hit directly into the steering wheel and horn. You bury your blush in Hobi's chest as he laughs and laughs, and Hobi's hands fist on your hips, pulling you closer, then farther apart, then closer again.

"Hobi what if someone heard."

"They didn't- there's like no one here- fuck-" You feel his lips with every beat of your heart, kissing so hard it tastes like bruising.

He holds you around your waist and guides you into a subtle sloppy grind, he's only wearing his sweatpants, no boxers underneathand it's clear he's not as unaffected as he claims. The hardness tents in the gray frabric. Pushed up against you. His cock is already hard and firm and twitching.

The front seat of the Lambo is not as spacious as you'd like, but you don't care enough to move to the backseat. Already shaking from just a few kisses. You let out a small whine as he guides you to grind harder against his front, controlling your rhythm with two hands on your ass. You can tell you're getting sloppy, leaking slick. You feel hot all over, simmering as Hobi looks up at you and grins.

"You're like totally gonna cum from this-"

"Oh my god shut up-"

He leans in to bite the tip of your nose, "Make me."

A nearby gull caws loudly, dissonant with the darkness, it’s just a hair past twilight, and the streetlights cast his face in yellow and blue chiaroscuro. It's not private at all but it's perfect and as easy as breathing. Your hips, his hips, and not an inch of space between.

You curse Tae who finally convinced you to buy jeans again as Hobi helps you pull them off, jostling you, hitting your head on the top of the car with a muted "ow!"

Hobi kisses the top of your head holding it reverently while he giggles, and it feels like you're a pair of teenagers again. It feels like for all intents and purposes the last month hasn't happened- like you're right back to where you left off. None of this is heavy, none of it hurts.

The kisses don't stop. Migrating from your mouth down under your jaw, the hollow of your throat. You've soaked through the front of your panties, and Hobi pulls back to look down. Touching the little damp patch you've left against the front of his sweats humming thoughtfully. Breathing a little heavy. Hair all pulled at and messy from where you ran your fingers through it.

The quirk of his mouth is mischievous, "wanna rile the others up?"

You scoot back a bit, grinning, loving Hoseok is like a super special inside joke. "Just don't get my face."

Hobi snaps a picture of your thighs on either side of his, your pussy, barely clothed in semi-translucent fabric all dark blue. His cock wet and hard straining up against the grey sweats. He sends it and then throws it to the passenger seat to jerk you closer.

Hoseok’s phone starts vibrating almost immediately but texts go unanswered, every call goes unanswered in favor of shimmying his sweatpants down and letting his cock pop up, a pearly bit of precum already wetting the tip.

You still, and he guides his cock up at the same moment he settles you down, hand cupping your hip to guide you, pulling your soaking underwear to the side in his haste. His teeth grit and he sighs, you're so warm, so hot inside.

"There you go, is that better?"

"Fuck," you murmur, sinking down slowly, giving yourself time to adjust before your riding goes, still syrupy slow. “So much better.” You don’t want to thank him for something like this but you do anyway.

It’s unhurried as he pulls you closer and closer. You don't know why Hobi likes to fuck like this, so close and slow. Barely pulling back to fuck his cock in, he just keeps you close and lets you grind wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you as close as he can get you. The car starts to rock, squeaking, and the sounds of sex greet you as Hoseok fucks up into your wet hole. All sloppy and wet sounding, coupled with the smacks of your kisses.

“So fucking wet all the time, so fucking messy,” he growls out, and you whimper, pressing your face into his neck and gripping his arms helplessly.

“Can’t help it- can’t-”

He rises up, hands bunching in your short-cropped zip-up sweatshirt, to pick up up and down, up and off of his cock. Hoseok usually isn’t so physically strong, but he helps you ride him, making it faster and filthier. The fabric slides off your shoulders with the hastiness of your grinding, and the white tank top with the thin straps fall down to your elbow. He bites with his teeth when you clench around him, listening to the thud thud thud of your heart and counting every breath.

You get sweaty and sticky until the back seat of the car and all the windows fog up. Hobi kisses endlessly up and down your throat as his hands hold you loose and gentle and then tighter as he continues to force you up and down at a maddening pace.

Even with you on top, Hoseok is still an alpha, still needs to be in control. You can't move even a little bit without him controlling where you go. He pulls you back down into his lap and then pulls you tighter, forcing his cock deeper. You feel like you can feel Hobi all the way in your throat, letting out a weak sob.

"There we fucking go-"

"Fuck Hobi! I'm- please- I need-"

"You can- just-"

At the last moment, Hoseok's hand settles not on your side, but on your stomach, pressing down. you paw at his wrist helplessly.

"Don't! if you do that i'm gonna-"

But it's already too late, You cum, so worked up that it doesn’t take much, You'd like to think that you only squirt because he's making the fit extra tight with his hands, or because it's been a long time since you've cum at all. But you blush furiously as your cunt continues to spasm and drip.

Your Hand on the door keeps yourself up a little, almost forcing Hobi's cock out of you with how hard you clench down and drip slick onto his lap. Letting out a loud moan that someone could certainly hear if they were standing just outside the car.

Hoseok just fucking giggles.

You teeter, cumming so hard you're dizzy, Head lolling to the side until he guides you to rest against his shoulder. "I've got you, I'm sorry- that was mean," he drags his teeth down your scent gland and you tremble.

Hobi pulls back to look at the wet splatter. The front of his white shirt is translucent. He touches where it clings to his abs. Flexing and twitching. And then he looks up at you. As you shakily come down, keeping your pussy up, the head of his cock is still inside but not much else.

He pulls you back down, hard, and you yelp. hoseok has something in his eyes that's just as hungry as you were, something that you wouldn't be able to explain. You cumming doesn't make him quiet, it only makes him hungrier.

He guides you to bounce, up and down, at a faster pace, chasing his own orgasm now. "So, fucking needy, that's what you needed right?" He growls and you nod. Helpless. He forces you down on his slowly inflating knot a little, hard enough for you to feel it.

Your socked toes curl where you're kneeling, and he strokes up one of them. You jerk, ticklish, whimpering, body humming and oversensitive (is this how Jimin feels all the time?) His hand slides up your knee to grip you harder, and you squirm on his cock.

You rest your cheek on his shoulder, looking up at him. A little cock drunk, a little fucked out. "Like it when you call me needy, like it-" he kisses your slack mouth, bitten, pinker. "Cause it means you know I need you and you don't mind." you babble, and Hoseok just grins.

"Could never mind," His kisses interrupt his words. Like he can't be bothered to remove his lips from your skin long enough to speak. "need you too."

Hobi cums and his cock twitches. The smell of gasoline and burning tires on your skin. His knot inflates so quick and hard that you jerk, with little control of your body, curled to his chest- there’s little place for you to go. Shivering and twitching as his cum spurts, hot and wet filling you up with a sigh.

Which is how your face ends up hitting right up into his nose.

Hoseok has had more violent comedowns as he clutches his nose throbbing, wet and slimy blood. “What the actual fuck” you’re murmuring out sorry after sorry, still knotted together unable to move from his lap more than scrabbling at the passenger seat for some tissues, panicking until he starts to laugh.

And he's not angry no- he just laughs and wipes away the blood from his lips. “Not broken, don’t worry fuck-” it's payment for the teasing from earlier- karmatic because you don't like your alphas bloody. you hold the napkin to hoseok's nose and try not to move, his cock still occasionally twitching with a fresh spurt of cum. The nosebleed is over in a second.

It feels strange to laugh over something like blood, especially after the last few weeks you've had. But for once- it doesn't trigger either of you. He holds you close and gets blood on your sweatshirt probably but the car is full of the sound of laughter whereas 3 a minute ago it was full of the sloppy sounds of car sex and moaning.

“M’sorry”

His hands go up and down your waist, hungry, your slick is cooling and the sweat on the back of his neck is turning balmy. “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean too.”

You try to pull back and squirm away from the way he’s holding you, but he holds you firmly against him. “Knots gotta go down soon, just stay like this a while.”

You settle, and he scents the top of your head, it’s useless, anyone will be able to tell what you’ve been doing after this, you can feel his cock twitch wet as he cums again a little more, and your pussy clamps down, milking his knot for all it’s worth. You sigh at the feeling.

Compared to your other packmates Hoseok is such a comfortable fit. Whereas when Namjoon knots you you can hardly move, Hoseok's knot is almost comforting. Soothing. The ache in you that wants to be filled truly quiet. (If you got a tape out and measured, you'd see that Hoseok's knot thickness is only a little wider than Namjoon's fully hard)

Alpha musk sweetens the air in satisfaction, but also challenge, the way that Hoseok smells when he and Jimin wrestle and he gains the upper hand- however briefly. Definitely not the way that the alphas usually smell after popping a knot.

You recognize the cross look on his face and aim to kiss it off of him. planting the type of kiss that almost always makes Hobi smile at the corner of his lips.

You pause for a second, for dramatic effect, but it still doesn't make him stop his pouting. “Okay- now you’ve got to tell me what's wrong you’re still literally inside me and you’re not smiling-” you laugh against his throat, pull back worried, “not that you have to be happy fuck- I didn’t mean-”

Your words jog him out of his thoughts and shimmies forward, Hoseok pecks your nose, your lips, still warm from your sighs and moans that he got out of you. His shifting causes his cock and knot to rub up and more fully inside you just slightly, forcing a tiny bit of cum to slip out, cooling and sticky.

But oh well- the inside of the lambo has seen worse messes in recent weeks. You sigh at the movement and rest your face against the hollow of Hobi’s throat, pouting petulantly as he continues the small juts of his hips, content to rip another orgasm out of you (although the front of his white shirt is already soaked translucent with it). He's competitive like that.

You grab his arms to try and slow him, already a little overstimulated and unable to feel your thighs, but Hoseok just grabs your waist and lifts you up, however briefly- to seat you more firmly on his knot, "Hobi fuck-"

There's an itch under his skin that just won't quiet down. Won't settle. You can see that now, his instincts are on edge, gnashing their teeth.

You tilt your throat, offering it up, bearing it to him.

Hoseok watches the action, eyes flinty. Sounding too serious. "How many times does Yoongi usually make you cum?"

Your eyes flutter, and he settles you back against his chest, his heart thuds quick against your ear, "like two or three times usually." Hoseok's knot deflated enough to pull out and he does it slowly, mindful of how sore you must be.

Hoseok goes slowly, but he’s still cum enough that you can’t clench closed enough to keep his cum in, you try and stop it but Hoseok catches your wrist so that you drip out, down, hitting the leather seat. He can’t stop watching you clench, hole pink and fucked, clit twitching because of him. Rubbing smooth circles on your thighs transfixed for a second but then reaching for his phone because.

“Fuck- Namjoon’s gonna go crazy.”

You cover your flaming face with your hands but you let Hoseok send another picture. This time of your wet and messy entrance, pink clit, a bit of his cum in the picture, dripped milky around the leather seat it's- fuck It's utterly pornographic. Might just as well send Namjoon into a rut with how fucking provocative it is.

Hoseok takes another, pressing the head of his cock to your hole, not inside, but just close enough that it's like they're kissing. Hot and wet and dripping with your slick and his cum. pooling a little on the head of his cock.

Hoseok sends it, and immediately gets another call from Namjoon. Hoseok sends it to voicemail only to grin at the amount that the pack alpha has already left.

“Guess how many voicemails he left?” You’re still shaking, still trembling from how hard you came, but Hoseok is so unaffected, all languid and satisfied.

“I don’t know, four?”

Hoseok laughs, husky, and pecks your shoulder. “Fucking seven” he clicks one and you laugh out loud for the scrabbling in the background alone.

“Jimin you are not going to drive to them- calm the fuck down.” Jin's says, sounding angry, in the background but Namjoon’s is deep. More of a growl. “Pups, come home right now, preferably before you end up knotted to each other in public,”

he snickers, "Too late."

You shimmy forward. Unwilling to separate from Hobi even though you're not knotted together anymore. You wouldn't mind just staying like this, cuddled up against his chest. But Hoseok knows what you want, what you need. He pulled out a little too soon (not for the knot, with that he was very very gentle) but because of your instincts. You still need him close.

He sinks inside of you with a sigh and you sniffle, “Keep it nice and warm yeah?” He teases, and you swat at his arm but let him. The drag is hot and filthy and slow.

You think that’s all he’ll do until He reaches down between the two of you to put his thumb and pointer finger around your clit. You jerk, scrambling to grip onto his wrist as he tugs.

“I thought you said Yoongi made you cum 2 or 3 times."

"Yes but- I'm sensitive."

"I like that you're sensitive, for the record, even though I'm probably going to tease you about this later." His voice is so husky, so deep and alpha that you melt and let him do what he wants.

You gasp and he plays with your clit, actually plays with it, rubbing it this way and that. Parting your lips to watch it tremble as you try and clench. His cock twitches where it fills you, starting to rock up and into you just a bit.

“That’s all you wanted right, just someone to touch you right here" He teases, eyes dark, breathing through his teeth as you clench. You tremble from overstimulation but nod dumbly.

Hoseok rubs the tight v of his fingers up and down, popping your clit up and down, such small movements that drive you crazy. You can’t clench any harder around his knot ( starting to fill out again, starting to pulse thick and hot) but Hoseok groans as you try to hold onto him, fingers going faster, sloppier.

You lean back, putting your hands on his knees, letting him see all of you, the damp hem of your shirt where you made it messy. Your pink cunt all for his viewing pleasure as you pop yourself up and down his length.

"Can't-" You're dumb, actually unable to speak as Hoseok starts fucking you again in earnest. The drag so much wetter with his cum already filling you up, squishing out around his cock again.

“Can’t come again?” He raises an eyebrow. “What? You’ll come 3 times for Yoongi but you won’t for me?”

“That’s not- it’s not-“ You can’t think with the way he keeps rubbing, tiny little movements as he continues to tug and rub, the small movements maddening. “Alpha!” you cry as he tugs again, cumming so hard and Hoseok’s fingers- tug again, milking a bit of squirt from you. Just a bit.

You clench so hard it forces his knot out, cum and slick dripping everywhere. Darkening his sweatpants with a dark laugh.

He doesn't leave you unfilled for long, guiding his cock back and forcing it to pop back in. The car rocks and you sob. And yeah- this is exactly what you needed. Your brain shuts off for a bit. You needed someone to fuck and knot the thought out of you gently, but not so gently as to let your mind wander.

You can tell hobi's close by the tone of his voice, how close to a growl it is. “Gonna make you milk my knot, gonna make you cum until Yoongi will have to compete with me. Until I’m the one who-“ Hoseok cuts himself off as his knot pops for the second time.

His knot feels hotter the second time around, thicker too- maybe it’s just because you feel so tight and full of his cum.

It’s calm for a second, calm. The sound of the crashing waves, his breath as he breathes in deep. You don't know how long you stay like that, so close to each other that you can hardly breathe. His knot still hasn’t gone down. His breath and your breath, you kiss his temple his cheek. And when you pull back to look at him, his face has that same look to it. You don’t even have to ask him, he already knows that you're going to ask what he meant by the last bit.

“It’s nothing.” but you wait because you know it’s not and that he's just working up to it.

You kiss at his temple. (How lovely is it- that your favorite place to be kissed should be called the same name as a house of worship?) Hoseok kisses you back just as reverently.

Earlier when he was thinking about something, he got that competitive look on his face, and he wears that same look now. “It’s just, earlier I was thinking about it.”

“When you were frowning the first time?”

“No. At the house.” Hoseok is silent for another second, rubbing a soothing hand down your spine. And you realize you’re not afraid of anything he might say, not even a little bit, not even at all.

“You said, with Tae- that you wanted to marry her.”

Hoseok closes his eyes, just briefly. His eyelashes catch the light from the streetlamps. “I've never thought about getting married, not at all, and I'm not asking that's not- I'm not-" Hoseok sighs, frustrated. He's fine with dirty talk and teasing but this- this is so much harder to say.

"I was just looking at you and wondering...wondering why you chose her out of the whole pack and not someone else"

Why not me?

You and Hobi have agreed that saying the scary things is the way you get through it. Love will do you no good if you can’t do it scared.

You pull back and the look on your face makes Hobi blush, it’s so open and honest, like a hint of humor chased with all the love in the world. Hoseok pulls you tighter, more firmly against him in the front seat of the Lamborghini.

You’ve only been officially official for the last few weeks. But already Hobi can’t think of his life without you, can’t think of any world where you don’t mean just as much to him as the others do. If mating marks could go 8 ways it would be an easy choice, but they don’t work that way.

He’s never even called you his girlfriend for Christ’s sake. And he’s already talking about mating marks and marriage. and feeling hurt when you offer those shows of devotion to other people and not him. Jealousy in packs shouldn't exist, but it sort of does sometimes. You nudge his nose with yours. A small little nuzzle. “You and I are more matching tattoo people, aren’t we? I thought you’d want more than just a ring.”

A laugh jumps out of Hoseok’s chest like lightning, surprising him with how little he expects it, “Really? Fuck- you’d get matching tattoos with me?”

You lift his palm up to your throat, the blank side and then the one marred by Yoongi’s mating bite. “I’ve already got one mark on me that I can’t erase, gotta give you the same treatment.”

He’s a little speechless, eyes glittering with stars (they’re just from the streetlights but still) you keep it going. “If you could bite me? Where would you put it?”

Hoseok sits up straight, dragging his kiss down the side of your throat, “here maybe?” the tops of your breasts, “or here maybe,” next to your heart, Hoseok brings his hand to his face, kissing the center of it. “Probably here.”

You cover his hand with yours and then grip his shoulder, thumb rubbing up and down his pectoral, your foreheads resting against each other.

“If you ever need, if you ever want- like today- you can just ask me.”

“You sure? It wouldn’t be like- too much?” you don’t say her name, you don’t say that it would be like before. But Hoseok closes his eyes, he knows you won’t ever do anything like that. He doesn’t honestly think you’d be capable of that…the guilt and the forcing.

Hoseok isn’t worried about it in the slightest. He knows if he ever felt even a bit like that, he could tell you and you’d stop without a second thought. Whatever you need. (If that doesn’t count as marriage, I’m not sure what god is looking for.)

“I’m sure. I like this, it’s nice.” It’s nice when it’s just the two of us, you’re my best friend.

You’re coming down, still resting against his chest. Hoseok’s knot will have deflated enough for him to pull out without pain in a few moments, a few breaths as you exchange sleepy soft kisses. Nowhere to go and nowhere to be. The panic has worn out of you. The frantic desire simmering low and sated in your veins. The fire turned down low. The fear was non-existent.

Until a loud screech punctuates the quiet.

It’s pretty immediate how everything falls apart. One moment you and Hobi are curled up against each other. And the next second you look over his shoulder and see the red and blue flashing lights. You have seconds, maybe a breath before the sirens blare and those lights flash brighter. A foreign voice coming over the loudspeaker shattering the quiet. “Stay where you are!”

“Shit! Hobi!” Hoseok jerks, you are still knotted together but he pulls you off of him with little care for your comfort. You don’t blame him too panicked as you slide to the passenger seat and he tucks his cock back into his sweats. Reaching for your jeans a second too late.

“Crap- pull up your pants- oh fucking hell-“

Both of you turn syrupy slow when the police officer taps on his window. Shining his light inside of the foggy car.

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Notes:

yoongi gets fewer parts in this chapter because he's going to get a dedicated moment in the next chapter!!!

to be honest- i'm not really totally sure that jimin in bily has autisim or not- if he does have autism slightly or not, he does have the same sort of sensory issues that i do, i guess i can't answer the question for jimin because i can't answer it for myself yet.

jimin like me- realizes that the sensory stuff really affects him- i think he's never been allowed to realize how things make him feel. he's never been that sure of his emotions and his feelings.

if leg hair has one hater it's me, if leg hair has no haters then i am dead.

i wrote this chapter with the understanding that if jimin does have some form of psychopathy- then jin certainly does have it too- like out of all of them i think that the dynamic that fits them best is "jimin is crazy and knows it, jin is crazy and doesn't know it."

Song inspiration is just Rm's- Around the world in a day. i know we only have one song but!!! what a break of charecter!!

was i inspired by namjoons "she a pro-rida, Oo Oo Oo Oo rida~" for this chapter? yes i was. and what about it??

hoseok and the m/c are such a mess i swear to god i love them so much like- they're just so cute in their little car sex scene.

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