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hyunjincanraptoo · 1 day ago

Note

I know you mostly do hyunjin fics but I was wondering if you could to a bangchan one? I was looking for one I was thinking of and I couldn't find it and I thought I'd ask you because your fics are so good! Could you try to make a first time with chan one? Kind of like your hyunjin one that you made buy a chan version of it idk I've just been so dululu lately and I need a fic like that, but if your but please dont rush if your doing other things♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Bed of roses- B.CH

First of all, hey!! I am SO sorry it took so long. I love your ideas, they are always great. And honestly at this point I am writing for all members + ateez hehe

And in second place, I want to dedicate this fic to beautiful @ktxoxoxo. Feliz cumpleaños, baby! I promised you a bed of roses and here it's hehe Wish you all the happiness in the world and I hope you had a great day 💜

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: smut

Alexa, play Bed of roses by Bon Jovi

You didn’t mean to break the bed, but in your defense, the bug was huge.

One moment you were peacefully folding laundry, the next you were shrieking and jumping on your bed like it was a lifeboat and you were on Titanic. And apparently, your bedframe wasn't built for dramatic bug escaping adventures.

It cracked beneath your weight with a crunch. Not totally broken, but enough to collapse slightly.

Which is how you ended up sitting on the floor, texting your new boyfriend in absolute shame.

You:

I broke my bed cause of a bug 💀

Channie:

😭 How big was the bug??

You:

Big enough for me to panic and jump like an olympic gymnast

Channie:

I’m coming over, babe

We’re going to IKEA

“Okay, but I thought you'd laugh more”, you say as he pulls into the parking lot, “Like, isn’t this the kind of thing you'd roast me for?”

Chan hums, “It is, but also I’m gonna romanticize this. We’re going to IKEA together like a new married couple”

You blink at him.

He grins, “Don’t tell me you never imagined walking around those fake rooms holding hands, pretending we’re furnishing our home?”

“Okay. Maybe once. Or twice”

He hops out and comes to your side of the car, lacing his fingers with yours the moment you step out, “Good! Let’s get delulu over furniture”

You roll your eyes. But your giggle anyway

•°. *࿐

It begins in the kitchens.

“Oh, I could totally see us making breakfast here”, he says, tapping a marble counter, “You scrambling eggs while I steal kisses and burn the toast”

“In your fantasy, I’m the one cooking?!"

“I’m better at kissing”

You blush and move on, but he follows with a lazy hand on the small of your back.

“Look at this one”, he says, pointing to a tub, “Our kids could splash around in here”

You choke, “Kids?!”

He shrugs, amused by your expression, “Too soon?”

You poke his chest him, “Way too soon”

He pouts playfully, eyes warm. “Fine. Just imagine you in it. Bubbles, candles and me on the rug beside it, feeding you strawberries”

You laugh, “You romantic menace”

But the worst is the bed section. He sits down on a queen sized one and pats the space beside him.

You sit.

Chan leans back, legs wide, arms resting behind his head like he belongs there.

“I could definitely see us making kids on this one”

Your breath catches.

He glances over with a smug grin, but it softens when he sees your expression— flushed, quiet, hopeful.

“Too much?”, he asks gently.

You shake your head, trying to stay cool, “Just... haven’t thought that far ahead”

He leans in, brushing his fingers against your knee, “No pressure. I like where we are”

You nod, “I like it too”

•°. *࿐

You buy the bed. And Chan insists on paying for half of it.

“I’ll cover half”, Chan says as he hoists one of the heavier boxes into the trunk.

You arch a brow. “You sure? I broke the bed”

He grin,. “And I helped you pick a new one. That makes it ours now”

You narrow your eyes, “Are you trying to co-own my furniture?”

He shrugs, slamming the trunk closed, “Maybe I just want you to think of me every time you get in bed”

Your jaw drops, “Christopher Bang!”

“What?”, he says innocently, but the smirk is anything but innocent

“I love you”

He walks past you, enlacing your pinkies together as he heads to the driver’s side, “I love you too, baby”

•°. *࿐

That night, you stay over at his place.

He tosses you one of his oversized shirts, makes you dinner, and kisses you slowly on the couch before pulling you into bed. It’s soft, domestic, like you’ve done this a hundred times already.

The next morning, he drives you to work, one hand on the wheel, the other lazily holding yours. As you unbuckle to get out, he tugs your wrist gently and leans over to kiss you, probably a little longer than necessary.

“Have a good day”, he murmurs. “And don’t worry, I’ll have the bed ready when you come home”

You blink, “Really? You don’t have to”

He just winks, “I’ve got you, baby”.

And with that, you spend the whole shift thinking about your disgustingly sweet boyfriend.

•°. *࿐

When you get home, the lights are low and your apartment smells like roses.

You blink at the trail of petals leading to your bedroom and then stop in the doorway— your new bed is built, fluffed, blankets folded neatly.

Chan stands beside it with a boyish smile, rubbing the back of his neck, “Hey...”

“Chan… what’s that?”

“I just… I thought I’d surprise you. Build it while you were gone. And the rest, well... I got carried away”

You step inside, eyes darting around, “This is... beautiful”

He shrugs, “No pressure or anything. I know we still haven’t… you know. But I just thought maybe…. new bed, new memories”

You look at him— his eyes are kind, gentle, nervous. And you know you want him too.

Not just because of the bed. You want him because he showed up, hands full of Allen keys and roses. Because he doesn't judge when you break the bed because of bugs and also dreams big. Because he makes IKEA’s aisles feel like home.

You walk to him slowly

“Can I kiss you?”, you ask.

His breath stutters, “Please”

You kiss him deep— full of all the things you didn’t say in the kitchen aisle, the tub aisle, the bedroom aisle.

He pulls you closer by the hips, mouth hungry but patient. You feel his hands spread wide on your back, guiding you gently to the bed like you’re sacred.

Clothes come off slowly. First his shirt, then yours. His fingers tremble slightly as they trace the curve of your waist.

“Are you sure?” he asks again, kneeling between your thighs.

You nod, “I’ve never been more sure”

He kisses down your neck, your collarbones, the sensitive skin just above your breast. You arch into him, heart pounding like a drum.

He takes his time. Every touch is mindful, every breath shared. He groans when you touch him, eyes closing.

“I got you”, he breathes, “We’ll go slow”

He lies back slowly, guiding you to straddle him but not the way you expect.

Instead, he tugs you down with him until your back is flush against his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist, your thighs wrap around his hips. You're cradled in his body like you're made to fit there like his lap, his hands, his chest were always meant for you.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs, his breath warming the shell of your ear.

You nod, pulse racing. “More than okay”

You reach between your bodies to help guide him in— careful, your breath catching as he slides into you from behind.

A shared gasp leaves both your mouths.

The stretch, the closeness, the sound of his moan against your neck—it’s overwhelming in the most delicious way.

His arms tighten around your waist, and you feel his lips press to your shoulder as he starts to move. Slow, rolling hips beneath you. He thrusts up gently, and the rhythm is steady, sure, tender.

Your head tips back against his shoulder.

“You feel so good”, he breathes, voice wrecked, one hand sliding up to cup your breast while the other holds your stomach close, “I want you like this forever”

You whisper his name, trembling slightly as pleasure builds. It’s deeper like this. Fuller. Every drag of him inside you makes your body curl back into him tighter.

He keeps you safe.

Your fingers lace with his at your stomach, squeezing as the pace picks up— soft wet sounds and shallow gasps filling the room, his lips open against your jaw, groaning your name.

You come first, your body arching, chest heaving, legs shaking around him as he whispers encouragements into your skin.

“That’s it, baby… just like that. Can’t believe you are all mine”

He follows soon after, hips stuttering, breath hitching as he holds you tighter— burying himself as deep as he can go with a strangled moan. His warmth fills you slowly, pulsing inside while you lie there— still trembling, still wrapped in his arms.

Neither of you speak right away.

Only the sound of shared breaths, kisses pressed lazily to your shoulder, his fingers drawing shapes over your stomach where your hands still rest.

“I’ve never…, he begins softly, voice still unsteady, “felt anything like that before”

You smile, “Yeah. Me neither”

You turn your face to him, “Thanks for building the bed, baby”

He chuckles, heart melting silently, “Guess we built something else tonight too”

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raven-dor · 1 day ago

Text

illicit affairs

in which you distance yourself from bucky barnes, and he won’t rest until he knows why

PAIRING: congressman!bucky barnes x fem!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, morning sickness, pregnancy, miscommunication (but ig it's more like refusing to communicate), given last name! (Clark), arguing, ANGSTY ANGSTY ANGST, more arguing, kissing, fluff ending

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

🎶 : illicit affairs - taylor swift

AN: 🩵♥️💗 - this is like my favorite angsty fic of all time, like it's up there with me and my husband (gwayne hightower) EEEK HAPPY READING!! also i might write a part two where the use the house she bought if that's something you guys would be interested in

The sun shone through the curtains, yellow and bright. You stared at the man dead asleep beside you, a contented smile creeping on your lips. He looked so peaceful, not at all like how he looked awake, always stressed, always worrying over something. If it wasn’t Congress or the team, it was you. Worry was Bucky’s main emotion, you would say when you teased him. He worried over your safety the most, often trying to convince you to stop working in the office, practically begging you to work from home.

You glared at him every time.

You could never bring yourself to stay angry, though. He was caring, more than most had ever been with you. You were fragile, something he cherished.

It made you feel valuable; your cheeks warmed just thinking about it.

He grumbled, burying his face further into your torso. His arm was lazily wrapped around your waist, and he smiled in his sleep, pulling you closer. You hadn’t wanted to wake him, but he had a meeting in forty-five minutes, and he still needed his routine cup of coffee. “Buck. You have to get up.”

“Five more minutes.”

“Bucky…” You laughed, running your fingers through his hair. “You’ll be late.”

“I could run there in five minutes.” You knew from the look on his face that he was considering it. Thanks to his super soldier serum, he really could run around the entirety of Washington D.C. in less than an hour.

“You could, but your hair would be a mess.” You frowned, reaching down to run your fingers through the sleep-tangled tresses. “A lot like it is now. Besides, think about the people who voted for you, who elected you to this office. They wouldn’t exactly enjoy learning that their congressman was late to a meeting.”

“I hate when you’re right.” He groaned, rolling over and walking toward the bathroom, leaving the door open as he fixed his appearance. “Have I told you how lovely you look this morning?”

“No.” You playfully glared. “And if you did, you’d be a liar.”

He scoffed. “You’re timeless, Doll. Would’ve took my breath away even in the ’40s.” Your heart fluttered from his compliment. “Are you coming into work with me?”

You shrugged, biting your lip as you admired his back muscles. “Dunno. I think I’ll take a half day. Probably go on a walk, find a nice cafe to get some work done in.”

He frowned. “What am I going to do without you?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’ll be just fine. The world will turn without me running the office while you’re gone.”

“I don’t know.” He was rather dramatic in the morning. “My executive assistant is important-”

“We can’t go to work together.” You hissed. “You know that. The press would have a field day-”

“I don’t care.” He sat on the edge of your shared bed. “Don’t you think it’s time the office knows?”

“Bucky. Think of your career, your position. It would look like an abuse of power, I would have to stop working-”

“Perfect.” He looked terribly pleased with your last statement. “I’ve been trying to get you to stop working in the office for months.”

“I like working.” You glared. “And I thought we’d finally gotten past that.”

“We have.” He smiled, reaching out to hold your hand in his. “I just want you to be-”

“I know.” You sighed. “But I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can.” He leaned in, lips brushing against yours. “Doesn’t mean I can’t worry.”

Your eyes welled up, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “You love me too much.”

He shook his head, eyes darting to your lips. “Not such thing as too much, Doll.”

You leaped up, pulling him down to you, his eyes wide as you kissed him senseless. “God, I love you.” You murmured against his lips.

He grinned, kissing down your neck. “I love you more.”

He’d been late to work. You had to peel yourself away from his touch and practically push him out the door, waving goodbye until his car had vanished from your sight.

His townhouse was perfect, warm and inviting. When you first started dating, it was empty, with only the bare necessities. You’d laughed when you’d entered, insisting that he let you take him shopping. He’d agreed, and you would later find out he would agree to anything you asked simply because he loved the way your eyes lit up when you were determined.

Your stomach lurched, and you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut to try and quell the nausea. Finding your way into the kitchen, you grabbed your favorite mug, one that Bucky had bought with you in mind, and made yourself a cup of peppermint tea. Another wave of nausea, stronger than the last, hit you as the steam hit your nostrils. You realized that this was not something you could solve with a couple of deep breaths and a cup of tea; your stomach once again grumbled as you rushed toward the bathroom.

Denial.

That was the first stage, right?

You stared at the tests on the bathroom counter, too shocked to cry. There was no possible way this was real. You’d been safe, you’d taken extra precautions. The science behind the super soldier serum coursing through his veins was something neither of you understood, and so you decided you’d rather be safe than sorry.

Apparently, you thought as you stared wide-eyed at the positive pregnancy tests in front of you, your extra precautions had been for nothing. This was horrible timing, plain and simple. He’d finally made a name for himself other than the ‘Winter Soldier’. He was finally coming into his own, and you’d ruined it.

You had to resign. You had to leave before the press found out.

No, you reasoned with yourself. No one knew you were dating; if you simply pretended that you were pregnant by some random man, the office would believe you.

There was one major flaw in that plan. What would Bucky think? What would he think if his girlfriend of almost two years suddenly broke up with him and showed up to work a week later, visibly pregnant?

You decided to stick with your original plan, resigning from the office and fleeing DC. You ran up the stairs, shoving everything you’d accumulated into the two bags you kept here. Your drawer would be empty by the time he came home.

He would eventually understand that you were saving his job, saving what you’d both worked so hard for him to achieve. Besides, who knew if he even wanted that with you, a child, a domestic life? This was James Barnes, the World War II veteran, Avenger, and congressman. He had no time for trivial things like that.

Anger.

Your life was exactly what you’d wanted, perfect in every way that counted. Your relationship with Bucky was perfect.

At least, until now.

He had been the first man to truly love you, to care about you. You weren’t some object, some underling. You were his equal, his great love, his partner.

You’d finally achieved your dream. You came to DC to head an office, to become a political weapon. You’d done that, you’d seen the potential in Bucky, and you had gotten him into office.

This wasn’t fair.

You loved him, you loved him so much that it hurt. He was a gentleman. He held the door open, he respected you, he was- Angry hot tears ran down your cheeks as you lugged the bags over your shoulders, locking the front door behind you, leaving your key underneath the mat.

This really sucked.

You hailed a taxi, smiling gratefully when the driver helped you with your bags. “Where to, Miss?”

“Doll?” Bucky called out, shutting the door behind him. “You didn’t show up to work! Something wrong?”

No response. You were probably upstairs, too tired to call back out to him. He set the takeout bags on the kitchen counter, shrugging off his sports coat. “I brought Indian food from your favorite place down on 8th street.”

By this point, you were typically barreling down the hallway, jumping into his arms and peppering kisses over his face. He frowned, the house much too silent for his liking. “Baby? Are you home?”

The hallway was dark, too dark for his liking. You were known for leaving the lights on, too scared to walk around his house in the dark. He laughed when you’d told him, but he’d never judged. If it made you feel safer, then he was all for it.

He’d checked every room, every possible place you could be, but you were nowhere to be found. It was like you’d never even existed. His mind began to cloud, dark and poisonous.

His first thought was that someone had taken you. That they, whoever they were, had followed the pair of you home one day, found out where he lived, and taken you as collateral. He began to dial Sam’s number when he pushed your shared bedroom door open, frowning at the sight before him.

Your drawer was open, empty of all the things you’d brought over. He shut the door behind him, pushing the bathroom door open to find that even your products in the mirror above the sink and the shower had disappeared. His heart stopped, hands shaking as he deleted Sam’s number to make way for yours. It had rung two times before you picked up.

“Hello?”

“Thank god.” His voice was quiet. “Came home and you weren’t here. Thought something had happened.”

“I um…” You felt horrible, horrible that he had thought you’d been taken. You almost gave in, almost told him the truth. He loved you, and you knew he would be excited. “I-” No, you shook your head, you had to do this for him, for his future. He loved you, and you loved him, which is precisely why you had to do this. “I think we should stop seeing each other.”

This was his nightmare; this was infinitely worse than someone taking you. That he could fight, he could win; this was uncharted territory. His heart clenched, on the verge of breaking clean in half. “What?”

“This has been on my mind for some time now.” Lie. “It would be best, for both of us, for your career-” You willed yourself not to cry, not to break from the sound of his voice, more anxious than you’d ever heard him. “I’m sorry, but-”

“Where is this coming from, Doll?” He sounded desperate, broken. A tear ran down your cheek. “Did something happen? Did I-”

“Bucky.” You cried, the tears you’d tried so hard to hold back breaking free. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I am going to make this harder than it has to be, because I love you."

Bargaining.

His voice broke, desperate for an explanation. “Just tell me what happened, baby.”

“I’d like to take the rest of this week off, please.” He would be better off without you, without this whole mess. This was for the best, you tried to convince yourself. “I’ll be back to work next week.”

“Where are you?” If he could just see you, he would know. He was sure of it; he could read you like an open book. It was for that very reason that you did not want to tell him where you were.

“I’m-” It was only a matter of time before he found where you were. Hell, he’d had your location in his phone since before you started dating, for safety purposes, of course. You’d laughed when he'd asked, giving him yours in return. It had been sweet, the way he nervously bit his lip. You remembered your cheeks flushing, stomach fluttering at the action.

Now it made you want to cry.

“I’m at my apartment.”

“Your apartment?” He felt like he was dying, his heart clenching so tightly he thought he was having a heart attack. Maybe he was. You hadn’t been to your apartment in months, spending virtually every waking moment at his place. He’d even persuaded you to move in last week. “Thought you were moving in with me-”

“Things change, okay?” You snapped, slapping a hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- to snap like that.” You wiped your face clean of tears. “We were never going to last forever.” Lie number two. “Please, just let me do this.”

“No.” He shook his head as if you could see him. “I can fix this, we can-”

“I’ll see you in a week, Congressman.”

True to your word, he hadn’t seen or heard from you all week. The radio silence made him jittery, and he began to lose focus in meetings, his peers growing more and more annoyed by his apparent lack of care regarding the nation’s interest.

He wished he could tell them that his life turned upside down on a random Tuesday, that the love of his life had left him out of nowhere, but he knew better.

They wouldn’t care.

He’d been counting down the days, staring at his door for some form of life, for your familiar frame.

Your desk was right outside his office, and he often found himself watching you through the glass wall. Now he just stared at nothing, at the empty desk that turned his mood sour. He frowned, dropping his face into his hands, wallowing in misery.

“Congressman?”

His heart skipped, head whipping up. “Ms. Clark.”

You hadn’t wanted to go back to work, but you couldn’t just quit over the phone.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself. You could have, probably should have, but your heart craved him, your eyes had to see him once more.

Then you could hand in your resignation letter.

You waved hello to the office as you walked toward your desk, almost laughing to yourself at the sight before you. There sat Bucky Barnes, in all his glory, with his head in his hands. If this were normal circumstances, if you hadn’t just broken up with him and were planning on moving across the country, you would have laughed.

You draped your coat over the back of your chair, pulling your resignation letter out of your bag. “Congressman?” You cleared your throat, heart thumping hard against your chest.

“Ms. Clark.” His head whipped up, eyes wide as he stared at you. “You’re back.”

“I am.” You reminded yourself that you were in the office and thus had to behave professionally. Placing the letter in front of him, you mustered up the weakest smile known to man. “Here is my resignation letter.”

“Resignation letter?” Bucky rubbed his eyes, like you weren’t real, a figment of his imagination. “Ms. Clark-”

“Thank you.” You whispered, not having the strength to look at him any longer. “For understanding.”

“Wait just a second-” He stood up, practically racing toward the door to shut it before you could leave. “Don’t thank me for understanding.” His cologne threatened to overpower your senses. “Don’t thank me because I don’t understand.” He looked miserable, hands twitching like he was forcing himself not to touch you. “You haven’t given me any real reason.”

“Bucky.” Your voice was like a warning, a plea not to escalate things.

He didn’t happen to care, because he couldn’t let you go. Not without a fight, or at the very least, a reason for your sudden end of an otherwise happy relationship.

He whispered your name so faintly you could have sworn he’d never said it. “I can’t let you go.”

“This is highly inappropriate. We are at work, anyone could walk in at-”

“I don’t care.” He hissed. “I love you? Do you know how much I love you?”

“Of course I do.” You whispered, scared of someone overhearing. “And I- I loved-”

“Bullshit.” He shook his head, refusing to believe it. “We were happy. You were happy. You told me you loved me that morning. What happened in nine hours?”

“If there’s nothing else you need…” You straightened your posture. “I’ll be just outside.”

“I need you.” He said it like it was a fact, like it was certain, etched in stone since the beginning of time. “You might not need me, but I need you.”

Oh, how you wanted to correct him. You needed him like air, like the very oxygen that filled your lungs. You’d been in love with him for so long that you’d forgotten what it had been like before him. “Congressman-”

“Don’t.” He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t hear you reject him one more time. Not when he knew that you still loved him. He knew it, even if you didn’t. “That will be all.”

“Fine.” You nodded, turning on your heels like you hadn’t just broken his heart. Like you hadn’t just broken your own heart.

Depression.

You were actively fighting through it, fighting against crumbling into ash and letting the Earth swallow you whole. You’d been to a total of two doctors’ appointments, and even that had done nothing to improve your mood.

If anything, it made it worse, knowing that Bucky would never be there, holding your hand and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. He would never see her first steps, her playing in the front yard, her first dance recital.

And that was fine, because he would be doing great things, he would be changing the world.

You didn’t even know if it was a girl or a boy. You had a feeling that it was a girl; your feeling was more of a wish than intuition. You’d always known you’d have a girl; it was something that had been part of you for as long as you’d loved playing with dolls.

Your hand fell to your stomach, caressing it gently as you whispered. “Hello, my darling.” It was too early to tell if it was a boy or a girl, too early for kicking, too early for most things.

You felt crazy when you talked to your baby; it wasn’t like she (or he) could hear you or show you that it could. “You’re going to be so loved, so deeply loved.”

The bed in your apartment was comfortable, but you missed your bed, the one you’d been sleeping in for almost a year. Bucky’s bed. You missed his smell, his warmth. You slept in the one shirt he’d left over here every night, pretending as if nothing had gone wrong, that you hadn’t broken the one thing that kept you sane.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You whispered again, eyes tearing up as you thought of him. “I miss your father.”

Only two more days until you leave DC.

Technically, one and a half.

It felt surreal. You’d come here with such big dreams, and now, here you were, leaving with your tail tucked between your legs.

It was fine, not everyone was made for this life.

You thought you had been.

You’d already put a down payment on a modest house in a small town somewhere in Pennsylvania. It was pale blue, with three bedrooms, two stories, and it took everything in your savings.

The front yard was perfect for playing in, for growing up. The large oak tree that shaded the house was perfect for climbing, even a tire swing.

Maybe this was it, acceptance.

It felt like it, in some horribly strange way. You’d finally reached the last stage of grief, of mourning your past life.

Mourning your great love.

The office was relatively quiet, a nice reprieve from a normally chaotic environment. You’d decided to make the most of your last two days to finally organize the file system, hopefully enough so that his next executive assistant had an easier time finding things than you had.

You wondered as you flipped through a folder labeled ‘The Superhero Support Act’ if he and his next assistant would fall in love, if she would make him forget about the pain you’d caused.

You hoped she did; he deserved happiness.

By noon, you’d already organized all the digital files, your desk, and Bucky’s office. It was time for the white whale - the file closet.

It was dingy in here, the one hanging light doing nothing to brighten the space. You groaned, knowing that this would take longer than you thought. The files were dusty; they had obviously been neglected since the invention of the computer. Deciding to organize the files chronologically, you began your last mission.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

You cursed at the sky, wishing that Bucky would just leave before either of you said something you’d regret. You continued to face away from him, still sorting through the files as diligently as before. “Just doing my job.”

“Mhm.” You imagined he was leaning against the doorway, looking as handsome as always, his jacket unbuttoned. “I see that.” He didn’t speak for a while, simply watching you organize. You wished he would leave once more.

Wishes, apparently, are not granted on Capitol Hill.

“I love you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Congressman-”

“Don’t call me that.” He frowned. “C’mon, Doll-”

“Don’t.” You stood up, finally facing him. “We are at work.” He raised an eyebrow, stepping forward and letting the door fall shut. Your eyes widened, and you stepped forward, trying to open it. “If someone finds us in here-”

“What will they do?” Bucky laughed. “You're leaving, as you love to remind me.”

“Why are you being so difficult?”

“Funny.” He took in your face, trying to memorize it before you left. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Stop looking at me like that.” You whispered.

“Like what?” He whispered back.

“Like you still love me.”

“Of course I still love you.” He scoffed, following after you as you walked backwards, desperate to put distance between the two of you. “I’ll always love you.”

Your eyes welled. “You don’t mean that.”

“Stop telling me what I mean.”

Your back hit the file shelf, gasping. “I-”

He was barely a breath away from you, eyes darting toward your lips. “When will you understand that I love you? That I’m here, and I’m not leaving. That I’ve loved you since you walked into my campaign office, all frazzled, barking out orders?” His hand came up to your cheek, wiping away the tears that had fallen against your will. “That I wake up in the middle of the night, and the first thing I do is look over to make sure you’re still there, that you’re breathing, that you're real?”

“Bucky-” You were sobbing, fighting every instinct that screamed to let him in, to tell him the truth. “Stop.” Every time he spoke, it softened your resolve, made you want to tell him what you’d been carrying by yourself.

He shook his head, leaning his forehead against yours. “I don’t know what happened, but I’m not going to leave you alone. I know you love me, I know-”

You place one hand over his mouth, the other on his chest. “It’s for the best, trust me. You said you love me, so just let me do this. Let me do this for you.”

He raised an eyebrow, delicately peeling your hand away from his mouth. “Do what? What’s going on, baby?” He grew more and more worried every second you sobbed, every second you refused to open up to him. “Did someone-”

“No.” You shook your head. “No, it’s nothing like that. Bucky, I love you so much-”

He grinned, a glimmer of hope breaking through his otherwise melancholy face. “I love you too-”

“But this is for your own good.” Both of your hands were on his chest, pushing him away like he was temptation itself. “You’re meant to do great things, and you can do those, but I can’t be the person who slows you down.”

“Is that why you broke up with me?” He laughed. “I appreciate you looking out for me, really I do, but you can’t make that decision for me.”

“Too late.” You cried, his shirt wrinkling under your hold. “It’s too late.”

“No, it’s not.” He shook his head, his hands holding your face like it was precious. If you had asked him, it was. “You’re scaring me, baby. What’s got you so upset? Talk to me.”

“I- I can’t-”

“You can-”

“You don’t get it-” You sobbed. “I-”

“C’mon, Doll.” His lips brushed against yours as he spoke. “I’m right here.”

“I’m pregnant, alright?” You sobbed. “There you go, there it is.” He staggered back, staring at you in disbelief. You felt jittery, manic with fear from his reaction, or lack of reaction. “I’m sorry, I just-” You hugged yourself, rambling as you tried to explain the reasoning behind your decision.

“I found out after you left for work, and I-I couldn’t live with myself if I slowed you down. You’re amazing, you’re really making a change for these people. And I’m so proud of you, so so proud. You’re my finest achievement, and I-I couldn’t see it all go to waste. I knew if I told you, you’d drop everything, and I couldn’t have that. Because you care too much, and it scares me. It’s horrifying how much you love me. I’m not used to it. You’re supposed to be more selfish, you have to be more selfish, especially in this-”

You tilted your head, glaring at the man in front of you. “Are you even listening?” He had that same glazed-over look in his eye, still staring in disbelief. “Are you serious? I know I messed up, but the least you could do is say something.” Bucky slowly walked back toward you, like a predator stalking its prey. “I’m sorry, I really am. Just please, say something, say anything-” You gasped when his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you carefully into his hold. “Bucky-”

His lips dove to yours, your eyes fluttering shut as your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. He grinned, your teeth momentarily clashing, neither of you wanting to let up. Your knees weakened, glad that he had an arm around your waist, holding you up with ease. “We can’t-”

“Are you sure?” He pulled back, breath heaving as he spoke. “Are you sure that you’re pregnant?”

You nodded, smiling timidly. “Eight weeks yesterday.”

“Eight weeks?” His eyes welled with tears as he stared at your stomach. “Oh, baby…”

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered. “I didn’t want to-”

“I love you.” He grinned, peppering kisses all over your face, your laughter bubbling in waves as you squirmed under his attack of affection. “I love you so much, and I-” He fidgeted with something in his pocket. “This is horrible timing, I know that.”

“What?” Your heart dropped as he lowered himself onto one knee. “Bucky-”

“Before you say anything, just let me get this out, and then you can scold me or kiss me, whatever you want.” He smiled, pulling out a small velvet box. “I’ve been trying to find the right time to say this, and now seems as good a time as any.” The ring inside was old, simple, but elegant all the same. “This is my mother’s ring. Rebecca still had it.”

“Bucky-”

“I want to marry you. So badly it hurts. Marry me, and I swear you’ll be happy as long as you live.”

“You know my answer is yes.” You cried, leaning down to kiss him. “A million times, yes.”

He smiled, placing the ring on your finger. “Thank god. If you tried to leave again i was just going to blurt it out, and I didn’t think that-”

“This is perfect. You’re perfect.” You grinned, staring at the ring as he stood up. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize, Doll.” He kissed the back of your hand, smiling when he saw his mother’s ring. “I do have one request.”

“Yeah?” You raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

“Next time you’re pregnant…” Your heart skipped at the way he so casually said ‘next time,’ like it was inevitable. “Tell me before you do anything rash.”

You nodded, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind his ear. “Sounds reasonable enough.”

taglist: @milesdrift @eddiemunsons-lover @maryjaneeeee

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO JOIN!!

#literature #fanfiction #x reader #angst #marvel #bucky barnes #marvel angst #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #marvel angst angst angst #marvel x fem!reader #congressman!bucky barnes #congressman!bucky barnes x fem!reader #ugh i love this fic so much i think it might be my crowning achievement #fluff ending #🪩! fics

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himasgod · 2 days ago

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M-Mayhaps platonic Malleus with reader who is his adoptive sibling but the Senate and majority of the people refuse to accept them as a sibling of their heir as they are half-fae and not a Draconia (Maleficia is fine with them but she holds very little power over the Senate)

MALLEUS AND READER

Where the Senate does not accept you as his sibling

The castle always smelled like briar smoke. You used to love that smell — it meant home, even when nothing else did. But lately, it just reminded you how unwanted you were here.

"You're scowling again," Malleus said beside you as you walked through the hall.

"Am I?" you muttered, hands in the sleeves of your robe. "Must be the lighting."

Your footsteps filled the corridor. The portraits of your adoptive ancestors — tall, haughty Draconias— glared down at you like they knew you didn’t belong.

The news from this morning still clung to your ribs: another vote in the Senate had failed to recognize you as a full member of the royal household.

"Third rejection this season," you said casually, trying not to care. "I’m breaking records."

"Their pride will cost them more than a few stained ledgers if they continue."

You glanced at him. Malleus looked calm, but his eyes were that stillness he always got when he was furious.

For your sake. That still made your chest ache.

"They say I’ll never be a Draconia, no matter how many generations pass. They call me the ‘thornblood orphan’ behind my back."

Malleus stopped walking. You almost kept going before realizing.

"You were not chosen my sibling because of your blood. You were chosen because you were family the moment you looked at me and asked if my horns were heavy, when you were almost a toddler."

"...You remember that?"

He allowed himself a ghost of a smile.

“I had never laughed so much before that night.”

Maleficia was waiting in her usual spot, teacup balanced on one finger.

"You’re late," she said mildly, not looking up.

You bowed your head and flopped gracelessly onto the cushion beside her.

"Politics is a disease."

"Mmm. Caught it young, did you?"

You groaned into the pillow. Maleficia finally turned, her features sharp and amused.

“You’re stronger than them. That’s why they hate you. You've established a bond of trust with Malleus that neither of them has been able to achieve in decades and decades of years.”

"They hate me because I don’t fit into their little picture of a perfect monarchy."

"That too. But mostly because you remind them their rules can be bent. Bent rules threaten old men with no power except tradition."

You peeked up at her.

“Why do you always sound like you’re quoting an evil play?”

“I am an evil play,” she replied, lifting her teacup with flair. “But I’m your play, and I’d turn every last one of those doddering cowards into bats if I had more authority. I could have it, but… I'm getting older. I prefer to drink tea and watch them argue in the Senate with a smile.”

"...Thank you?"

"You’re welcome, little thorn."

The chamber echoed with voices.

“Half-fae or not,” one senator was saying, “the child has no blood claim to the throne and cannot be granted the privileges of the House Draconia.”

Malleus rose from his chair slowly. The room fell into silence.

"You dare refer to my sibling as 'the child' in my presence?"

The senator blanched.

"I recognize blood, but I also recognize loyalty. Character. Strength. And if the Senate does not, perhaps they should look in a mirror and ask if it still deserves to stand.”

The senator sputtered.

“You would threaten the Senate?”

“No,” Malleus said, smiling ever so slightly. “I would only remind it that I am not a child anymore. And neither is my sibling.”

That night, you sat alone in the overgrown garden. You watched the fireflies float, thinking how they never questioned belonging.

Malleus appeared wordlessly and sat beside you.

“…You’re not supposed to talk to the gallery guests,” you said, trying for humor. “It’s probably illegal.”

“Would it make a difference, if I told you that I consider you closer to methan half the fools arguing over titles?”

“They’ll never stop coming for me.”

“Then let them come. You are not alone.”

You leaned against his shoulder. Malleus let you.

At the next state event, you walked at Malleus’s side. Not behind him. Not two steps back as usual.

The nobles stared, bristling in quiet outrage.

Malleus offered you his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Let them see," he said.

"They're already whispering," you replied, adjusting your head high.

"Then let them choke on it."

You smirked.

The thornblood orphan walked like royalty that night. Because you were.

And eventually, they would have no choice but to see it.

#malleus and reader #platonic malleus x yuu #platonic malleus x reader #malleus #malleus draconia #briar valley #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia and reader #malleus draconia x you #pletonic malleus #platonic malleus draconia #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted x reader

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starbuck · 6 months ago

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really happy and been listening to Join Us a lot lately, so i just remembered the best ever part of my life AKA circa October-November, 2021 when i was being driven INSANE by the Ajax-Treasure Island 1915-Philoctetes-Treasure Island-Canajoharie-Moby-Dick-Black Sails web-weaving post that existed in my head, but i never actually made, because it only made sense to me.

#in a sense that IS my Canajoharie now…#what’s gone is mute someone changed the truth they smoked the proof and there’s nothing left!!!!!!!!!#author’s note: my Pop-pop was also dying at this time #but like!!!!!!!!!#IT’S ABOUT THE PAINTING!!!!!!!!!#AND THE *STORIES*!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#DON’T LOOK AT ME!!!! LOOK AT WHERE I’M POINTING!!!!!!!!#CLOSE YOUR EYES!!!!! SEE WHAT I SEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!#i NEED to bring back the memes i made about the TI play they’re soooooooo funny #truly it’s so bad but it’s so good and i LOVE it and i need to reread it and go insane again #me: you mean he’s actually going to fight them??????#Jules Eckert Goodman: WELL WHAT THE *FUCK* DID YOU THINK WAS GONNA HAPPEN???????????#(i also first listened to Against Agamemnon at this time btw)#(it took me like three listens to realize it was about Ajax lol)#(and then i listened to it 500000 times and it was my most played song of 2022 lmaoooooooooooo)#(but also like. I AM GOING FOR A WALK!!!!!!! I’LL BE BACK IN HALF AN HOUR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)#(you know??)

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ruesol · 8 months ago

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The one where Toji gets a buzz cut.

Masterlist

-•-

You dropped the grocery bags on the ground when you were greeted by your boyfriend.

But not out of excitement or happiness.

“No! Your glorious hair!” You dramatically walked to him so you could take a closer look at the damage. Toji, being the evil man he was, laughed at your response. “What d’ya think? I hated my hair covering my eyes while I was on missions so I tried something new.”

“Something new? You look like a felon!” You groaned as your hands roamed around his scalp, hoping for a miracle that would grow his hair back.

“Alright, that’s too far. I thought chicks dug this look.”

“Not on you! Maybe some weirdo that doesn’t look like an assassin for hire.”

“But I am one.”

“That’s besides the point, Toji. You’ve hurt me. By cutting off your hair you’ve also cut off any ties you had with me.” You sulk.

Toji was starting to feel self conscious even when he knew the adjustment phase would go away. “Do I really look that bad, doll?”

“No, but-“

“There’s a but? Okay, that’s it, I’m not touching you from now on. Since I look so bad, you can come to me when you find me attractive.” Okay this was turned into a real argument and you started to get agitated too.

“Fine! Let’s see who’ll last longer.”

Toji simply scoffed and walked back into his man cave.

Who knows how long you guys were planning to do this for?

-•-

A long time. You both can go without touching each other for a long time. It had been a week and a half without any physical intimacy but the relationship was normal, you both spoke about anything and everything. Neither of you were showing signs of caving in (or were just that good at hiding it).

It was a quiet afternoon. Toji was out buying some last minute ingredients for dinner and you were starting to miss him. And as much you hated to admit, the buzz cut was growing on you. Just the other day you had to fan yourself when you saw Toji doing pushups where he looked like an underground fighter prepping for his next match.

To distract yourself you decided to spend your time calling your friend instead. You put her on speaker while you organized your closet.

“Girl, what do you mean it’s ugly? It’s all the rage right now.”

“I know. I hated it when he first got it and now all I can think about is pouncing on him. Ugh, I hate myself.”

“You live together. Just go touch him, you fool.”

“No, I’ll lose and I can’t lose to him. He’s always winning bets between the two of us.”

The conversation went on for a few more minutes until your friend had some urgent business to attend to.

You turned around to grab the rest of clothes and shrieked when you saw a tall figure standing in the door way.

It was Toji. “Did you hear everything?”

“I’ve been here since you admitted that my haircut was hot. Do what you will with that info.”

You sighed as you sat down on the bed. “I guess that means you win.” He could tell you were pouting even when you were turned away from him. He smiled at your childishness and gathered you in his arms and made you lay on top of him as he laid down on the bed. “There, you won.”

“No, it doesn’t work like that. I admitted that I wanted you first so you’re still the winner.”

“Then you’ll be happy to know I’ve been thinking about pouncing on you since the day I got my haircut. I wanted to do it out of spite cause I knew you’d cave in but then we made that stupid bet.”

“Ugh, I’m so stupid. You do not look bad at all, Toji. In fact, you look like a hot felon. The type of felon that has a girlfriend who visits him.” You mumbled as you played with the collar of his t-shirt.

“Uhuh, and does she do overnight visits?” He then started attacking your face with kisses as you start giggling.

It was you and your hot felon against the world.

#toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji zenin #toji x reader #jujutsu toji #toji x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x y/n #toji fluff #jjk #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you

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dreamauri · 2 months ago

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♪ — 𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗧'𝗦 𝗢𝗪𝗘𝗗, 𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗬 oscar piastri x girlfriend!reader ( fluff ) fic summary . . . you attempt to prank your boyfriend oscar by telling him you can't pay your half of the rent this month, he takes it surprisingly well.

( my master list | more of oscar piastri ) ( requests )

You’re sitting cross-legged on the couch, staring at the coffee table like it insulted your entire lineage.

There’s an envelope—unopened—labeled "RENT DUE" in bright red Sharpie. Dramatic, yes. Authentic? Not even a little. You made it yourself. The ink is still wet.

Oscar should be home any minute now. You even pulled out your phone to record his reaction for posterity (and potential TikTok virality).

You clutch your head in your hands and start muttering nonsense.

"How am I going to afford groceries? How am I supposed to live, laugh, love in these conditions—"

The door clicks open.

You immediately shift into Oscar-winning performance mode. (Pun 100% intended.)

“Babe,” you groan, as he walks in wearing a hoodie and gym shorts, hair slightly damp from a post-workout shower. “We have a problem.”

Oscar doesn’t even blink. He steps inside, drops his gym bag by the door, and eyes you with the same calm expression he reserves for red flags in Turn 1.

“Okay. What’s up?”

You dramatically shove the envelope toward him like it’s radioactive.

“I… can’t pay rent this month.”

Silence.

He blinks. Once.

“Okay,” he says. Like you just told him the sky is blue or that Lando wears bucket hats unironically. “That’s fine.”

You blink back. “Fine?”

Oscar shrugs, walking past you toward the fridge. “Yeah. I got it.”

You stay frozen, confused, suspicious. “Wait—what?”

He pulls out a yogurt like he’s in a chilled dairy ad. “I’ve been paying half anyway. What’s the difference?”

You’re blinking so fast you might take flight. “Well… this would be all of it.”

Oscar stabs his yogurt with a spoon, finally giving you a look. “My salary tripled this year. I’ll live.”

Damn it.

You pause the recording.

He walks back over and sits beside you, yogurt in one hand, cool as ever. “Was this… a prank?”

You groan, throwing your head back. “It was supposed to be! I saw this girl on TikTok freak her boyfriend out and he panicked and offered to sell his gaming PC. Yours was boring.”

Oscar deadpans, “Sorry I wasn’t financially incompetent enough for TikTok.”

You snort.

Then he adds, casually, “Also, I’m paying rent from now on.”

You sit up. “Wait, no. That’s not—this was a joke. I can—”

Oscar raises a single brow. “You want to pay rent while I make six million a year? Be serious.”

You flop dramatically back onto the couch. “So the prank backfired.”

“Mm-hmm,” he hums. “And now I’m the landlord.”

“Oh my god. I’m dating a landlord.”

He grins. “But like, a hot one.”

You groan again. “I should’ve just prank-called Lando.”

“Please do. He’ll probably Venmo you five grand and forget why.”

#‧˚⊹🪴 ଓ :: 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸𝘀 ‧₊˚⤾#f1 #formula 1 #formula racing #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #oscar piastri #oscar #op81 #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x y/n #f1 fic #formula one x reader #oscar piastri x yn #OP81

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docrobinavitch · 13 days ago

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penance

dr. robby x f!attending!reader masterlist content: 18+ mdni, ANGST, sexually explicit content, swearing, mentions of family trauma, complicated mother/daughter dynamic, sibling death, grief, age gap words: 5.6K synopsis: reader has worked too many goddamn shifts on the opposite shift as robby and they both take out their frustrations on one another. this takes place in the same universe as sacraments of healing, roughly a year and a half later. i think they can be read separately for the most part, you just might miss out on the full context of the fucked up family dynamics going on in the background here. a/n: well!! this was quite literally requested but for some reason i still get the feeling nobody wants to read this. kdfhgkdjhg perhaps because sacraments and now this one the reader is soooo much like me it feels like self harm at times when i write her ksdfhgkjdfg anyway i hope you guys like it!! i don't think i'll be writing anything else for these two but i am really so so grateful for all the love you've given sacraments. it is still a shock to me. as always thank you for reading.

Your eyelid was twitching. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d slept for more than three hours uninterrupted. You had worked seven night shifts back to back with a double thrown in the middle and you swore you could still hear the beep of the heart monitors even when you were at home. It was keeping you awake. It was also keeping you awake that you and Robby were on opposite schedules. You never slept well if he wasn’t in bed with you.

Your neck ached and you stretched it to one side as you held your phone a couple of inches away from your ear. Your back was pressed against the wall in the ambulance bay and your mother was shouting at you through the phone.

“If they repossess his car he’ll have no way to get to work and he’ll lose his job and he’ll be back at square one.”

“Well, Tommy should’ve thought of that before he financed a car when he had only had his new job a fuckin’ week.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, “I mean, Christ, does he ever think things through for more than five seconds?”

“We can’t all be perfect like you, Ace.”

“That’s not what I said—“

“Both our credit scores will be in the fucking toilet if they repossess, is that what you want?”

You paused and then scoffed, “You cosigned the loan?”

“He’s my baby and he needed help, of course I did,” You rolled your eyes, “I would do the same for you if you asked!”

“Well he shouldn’t have fucking asked is the point! He’s a grown man!” You sighed heavily, “How much does he need?”

Your mom’s quiet for a moment, “Fifteen thousand.”

You banged the back of your head into the brick wall behind you, squeezing your eyes shut tight. The throbbing in your neck had extended to your head. You were so fucking tired. “I can’t do this right now, I’m at work. I’ll call you back.”

“I know they pay you well at that hospital—“

“Do you have any idea how much debt I’m still in from medical school? You’re asking for the entirety of my emergency fund. Everything I’ve fucking saved.”

“He’s your baby brother. You would’ve done it for Benji.“

You balked, the back of your head bouncing off the wall. She could be so fucking cruel sometimes in an effort to get what she wanted, it still managed to shock you, to steal the air from your lungs.

Just then, Robby walked through the ambulance bay doors, backpack slung over his shoulder. He was heading home, sunglasses perched on his head to compete with the sun that was setting low in the sky.

Ever since he had come home with you that Christmas, he had become like a watchdog of sorts. His hackles would always raise whenever he heard you on the phone with someone in your family or you said you were going to see your parents. Despite it all, you still went every now and then, though you had taken to meeting them only in public where you could guarantee they wouldn’t make a scene.

The last thing you needed right now was for Robby to hear any of this conversation. He’d probably take the phone from you and tell your mom exactly where she could shove it.

You cleared your throat, swallowed down the bile of her words. “I really have to go, I’m at work. I’ll talk to you later.” You hung up without waiting for her reply, knowing you would get hell for that later.

“Hey,” Robby smiled at you, trapping you between himself and the wall, “Who was that?”

You sighed, “My mother.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Do I want to know?”

“No.” You rested your forehead against his, “You really, really don’t.”

“I miss you,” He whispered and caught your lips with his own.

You both loved Robby a criminal amount and missed him terribly considering you had been on opposite schedules for almost two weeks now, but with the call from your mom, the lack of sleep, and impending headache when you were just starting your shift, you couldn’t handle being touched right now. You felt like you were one inconvenience away from crawling out of your skin.

You pulled away, leaning your head back against the wall, “Sorry, I can’t right now.”

Robby shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away from you. It was clear to you he was trying to cover up his hurt and frustration at your rejection. It wasn’t the first time. You had been overwhelmed and overstimulated for days on end. The few times you’d run into each other you could barely tolerate a kiss on the cheek.

“Have you been sleeping?” He asked.

“Not really. Have you?”

He shrugged, “Enough. But going out of my goddamn mind from not being able to touch you for something like three weeks now.”

“Well then maybe you should tell Gloria to get me off the fucking night shift, like I asked you to three days ago.” You snapped.

He laughed shortly and ran a hand over his beard, “You know it’s not that simple. They were short an attending, you were asked to pick up the slack—“

“I wasn’t asked, I was told.”

“Fucking semantics. You get a week off after today, okay? Could you just be a team player?”

You laughed, “Have I not worked 80+ hours this week without complaint, including a fucking double? Or is this just because I won’t get on my knees and suck you off right now? Is that the kind of team player you’re looking for?”

“Wow,” He stared at you, shaking his head, “That was mean even by your standards. What did your mom say to you to provoke such vitriol, hm?”

You scoffed, “I’m fucking out of my mind with exhaustion, Robby, alright? Not everything is about her.”

“What did she say?” He repeated.

The ambulance bay doors slid open again and Abbot called out your name, “Incoming OD in five, we need you.”

You turned back to Robby, “Fuck off,” You said firmly and pushed yourself off the wall, skirting around him to get back inside.

“See you in the morning!” Robby called after you, anger lodged in every word, “Enjoy your shift!”

You raised your middle finger over your head as you walked back into the ED.

“Something going on with you and Robby?” Abbot asked. Immediately, you turned to scowl at him, “What? I can’t be concerned about my friends? You’re both tense as fuck lately, it’s killing the vibe.”

You raised your eyebrows, “The ‘vibe’?”

He stared at you, “Do you not know what it means? Because I can get Sarah to explain it to you, she’s like, fuckin’, fresh out of nursing school or something—“

“I know what it means, Jack, thank you.” Your eyelid was twitching again and you kneaded a finger against it as if you would find a reset button there, “Robby and I are fine, okay? Nothing to worry about.”

Ellis appeared behind the two of them, “She’s lying, they haven’t fucked in weeks.” Ellis hissed to Jack.

“Parker!” You whirled on her, “What the hell, I told you that in confidence!”

Jack was laughing, “It’s fine, I already knew. Robby told me.”

You scoffed and felt your face redden, “Oh, that’s fantastic, so the whole ER knows I’m going through a dry spell?”

Jack shrugged, a smirk on his face, “You know, if you want to get him back here I can make sure no one goes in the on call room—“

You raised a finger to quiet him, “Not another word.” You sighed and stretched your neck again, “Bunch of animals, all of you. I hate the night shift.”

“The night shift doesn’t like you either,” Ellis said, “You’re harshing the vibe.”

You and Jack made eye contact, and though you shook your head in exasperation, you were finally, mercifully, smiling.

***

Your phone wouldn’t stop ringing. It was past midnight and she was still hounding you. Text after text after missed call after voicemail.

If he doesn’t pay the 15k within 24 hours the car will get repo’d

if it was you, we’d all help you, Ace

But that was just it, wasn’t it. It would never be you because you had learned to be so fucking Type A from an early age so as not to be a burden. So you wouldn’t have to need anyone. You only ever needed Benji, and he was gone. And you loved Tommy, truly, but everything had always been handed to him. No one had ever told him no. It was why they were in this situation to begin with. He took and took and took and didn’t care who he hurt in the process. You had given him money more times than you could count, even when you really didn’t have it to give. And always, you’d regret it when he never suddenly became more responsible.

“Dr. Y/N?” It was Ellis in front of you when you looked up from your phone.

“Hi, sorry.” You shook the thoughts from your head, “What d’you need?”

Her eyes narrowed, tracing a path from your face to your phone and back again, “You good?”

You smiled, “Just tired.” You nodded to the iPad in her hand, “Is that South 17’s labs?”

“Yeah.” She handed you the iPad and you listened to her as she reported the results and her recommended course of treatment.

You nodded, “That all sounds good. Great work, Dr. Ellis.”

Ellis took the iPad back from you, but then looking over your shoulder, she paused, “Dr. Robby?”

You turned, and Robby was standing there in sweats and a hoodie. Immediately, your head went in a million different places at once as you rushed over to him, “What are you doing here, baby?” You looked him over, panic beginning to set in, “Are you hurt?”

“Oh, it’s ‘baby’ now, is it?” He looked tired as he looked down at you, “After the way you spoke to me earlier?”

You opened and closed your mouth, then sighed, “I’m—I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m so tired.” Tears pin pricked the backs of your eyes.

He nodded, “Can we talk for a minute?”

You followed him out to the ambulance bay, your anxiety a living thing in your chest. He was upset. He showed up at work in the middle of the night. This was it, wasn’t it? He’d finally had enough. He was leaving. You were always too much, always too much of a burden. You both needed too much and too little. There had always been an expiration date on the two of you, but somehow you’d thought maybe you could extend it further and further.

Robby turned to you and put his hands together in front of his mouth, looking down towards the ground, “I want to preface this by saying I did not go snooping looking for this information. Your iPad would not stop fucking dinging and I couldn’t sleep.”

You frowned, completely thrown off by this turn in the conversation, “My iPad? What about my iPad?”

“It kept ringing whenever you got a call or text from your mother. I went to go turn it off, but I saw the texts.”

You sighed, “Oh…” Then you shook your head, “I’m sorry, maybe it’s the lack of sleep, I still don’t understand why you’re here.”

“You’re not going to give Tommy fifteen grand, are you?”

Oh. He was here because he was worried about you. Not leaving. He wasn’t leaving. Suddenly, his protective behavior seemed like a relief. You felt the bizarre urge to laugh, then. But he was still looking at you, “Um, I—I don’t know.” You said finally.

He sighed, “Honey, I know you don’t have that kind of money. I’ve seen what you pay monthly for student loans.”

“I have fifteen thousand in my savings account.”

“That’s for emergencies.”

You huffed impatiently, “Can’t this wait until I get home? You should be sleeping.”

“No, because I need to know that you understand you don’t owe them anything.” He said fiercely.

“Robby—“

“No, don’t tell me it’s none of my business or, or I don’t understand. Every time you talk to them I watch them knock you down a peg. Make you believe you don’t deserve what you have or that you owe them for it. And still, you give and give and give, and it’s breaking my heart. You tear yourself open again and again hoping this time they’ll love you like you deserve,” He shook his head, “You don’t need them to. Baby, I promise, you don’t need them to.”

You shook your head marginally, eyes filling with tears. It was both frustrating and incredibly soothing to be known so well. “There’s still six hours left of my shift, I really don’t want to do this right now.”

“Too bad. I’ll tell Jack you’re leaving early.”

It was the wrong thing to say. You could tell he was genuinely concerned for you and that was all well and good, but you weren’t a child to be ordered around at his whim. Besides which, you had begged him to get you off the night shift days ago and he had simply shrugged his shoulders and said it was out of his hands. But now, suddenly, you could go home, when it suited him. Now he would do something about it with just six hours left.

Any progress he may have just made quickly evaporated and you carefully padlocked him out.

You shook your head at him, “I don’t need daddy to intervene on my behalf, I’m a big girl—“

“That’s not what I meant—“

“—Go home, Robby. We’ll talk later.”

You walked back inside without waiting for his reply.

What you didn’t notice was five minutes later when he followed you back inside. You were busy with a head injury on a two year old who had tried to climb out of his crib and hit his head on a dresser on his way down. You didn’t see him follow Abbot and pull him into an empty patient room.

Afterwards, you grabbed a Snickers bar from the break room and headed to the hub to see how bad of a mess the board was looking. As you tore a bite from the candy bar, Abbot walked up to you.

“You okay?” He asked softly.

You frowned and turned to look at him. He was regarding you with a soft intensity you had only seen him look at his residents with. The underdogs who needed a bit more encouragement to gain their footing. He was assessing you, you realized.

You shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and looked back up at the board, “M’fine. Stop looking at me like that, it’s giving me hives.”

He sighed next to you, “Why don’t you go home? Get some sleep? You’ve worked eight days straight, you must be exhausted.”

Your jaw paused mid chew and you turned back to him before swallowing, “Where is he?”

“Hm?”

Your eyes flitted around the emergency room, “Don’t play dumb, Abbot. Robby, where is he? He told you to send me home? After I asked him not to?”

Jack sighed, “He’s worried about you.”

You laughed, “Right. And do you think if I came in during one of his shifts and said he should go home early because I was worried about him that he’d listen?”

He tilted his head to force you to look at him, “Come on, kid. You don’t wanna be here anyway, I can tell. Don’t be stubborn.”

You shook your head and scoffed, “The two of you are fucking insufferable.”

“Oh, don’t be like that—“

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving.” You said, walking off towards the lockers.

When you got to the lockers, you stopped and scowled when you saw Robby leaning against them. He pocketed his phone and eyed you as you opened your locker and grabbed your things.

You slammed your locker shut and started walking without waiting to see if he followed.

***

Of course, he followed. Long and even strides just behind your furious and frantic gate.

And it made you angrier that he was so calm, no doubt relishing in the fact that he had won.

Once inside your apartment, you dropped your backpack and kicked off your sneakers with an attitude so adolescent like, Robby had to fight a smirk.

You headed to the fridge, grabbed an IPA and cracked the can open before taking a long drink. Robby followed as you made your way to the bathroom, beginning to strip. Still ignoring him.

“You’re not going to invite me to share your shower beer?” He asked, leaning in the doorway.

The truth was, you were nearly buzzing with anxiety and frustration. With him, with your family, with Abbot. The feeling of failure at not being able to finish your shift. The exhaustion that infected you to your very bones. The thought that if you didn’t come through for Tommy he would lose his job and your mother’s credit would be fucked. You thought if he touched you then you might start yelling, or worse, sobbing.

You said nothing, turned on the shower and faced away from him as you waited for the water to warm. You tapped your fingers erratically against your beer can and stretched your still aching neck.

“Your neck bothering you again?” You continued to ignore him, but stopped stretching. You heard him sigh behind you, “I could give you a massage in the shower. If you agree to a truce. You were really mean earlier. I was overbearing and controlling just now. What d’you say we call it even?”

Your neck really did hurt and it had spread to your shoulders and upper back as well as causing a throbbing headache. And the last time Robby had gently kneaded at the knots there, the relief had been almost instant.

“Fine.” You said softly and climbed into the shower, perching your beer precariously in the shower caddy that hung from the shower head.

You heard him undress and then the sound of the curtain rustling as he climbed in behind you.

He rested his hands on your hips first, leaning his head down to kiss your shoulders. His touch was soft and tender and everything today and this week had not been. You had to remind yourself to breathe so you wouldn’t cry.

“Too much?” He murmured against your skin.

You were afraid to speak, so you pushed yourself back into him instead. He twined his arms fully around your waist, your back flush to his chest. You felt his chest heave with a sigh of contentment and suddenly you felt guilty of depriving him of your touch for so long.

In silent apology, you passed the beer can to him and kissed the palm of the hand he wasn’t using.

“I thought you were breaking up with me. When you showed up at the ER.” You said softly.

You felt him tense behind you, “Why would you think that?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know. I was mean earlier.”

He’s quiet a moment, trying to find the right words to say, how to reassure you that it had never even crossed his mind, “We can both be… difficult at times. You worked too much this week, you should’ve never even been working that shift today. I was dismissive. You were exhausted. I know you didn’t mean it. That you wouldn’t have said it under any other circumstances. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

After passing the beer back to you, he raised his hands to the back of your neck, kneading gentle circles with his thumbs deep into your muscles. It took only a few moments of this before you were whimpering. You swore you heard Robby chuckle behind you at the sounds.

He moved his hands lower, to your shoulders, and hissed as he felt the knots beneath your skin, “Fuck, sweetheart, how did you get so tense?” He pressed a kiss to your hair, “Am I not taking good enough care of you?”

You turned in his arms so you could see his face, bringing your hands up to cup his cheeks, “If anything you take too good care of me.” You said softly, eyes searching him. He closed his eyes at your touch, inhaling deeply. “C’mere.” You wrapped your arms around him, pulling until his head rested on your shoulder as you lightly scratched his back. “I’m sorry.”

Under the warm spray of the shower and the beer starting to hit, the frantic energy was beginning to leave you.

“I’m sorry too.” He pulled away slightly to bend your foreheads together, “I still don’t think you should hand off your emergency fund to your brother, though.”

You ran your hands up and down his chest, eyes snagging on the chain around his neck. It had, tragically, been a long time since you had seen him shirtless. With the anxiety beginning to drain from you, the sight of him naked in front of you like this had your blood beginning to pound, “Can we talk about that in the morning, please?”

He must’ve heard the hitch in your voice because you saw the beginnings of a smirk on his face, “Was there something else you wanted to do tonight?”

You licked your lips and swallowed, watched as his eyes traced the bob of your throat, “Perhaps.”

His eyes darted back up to yours and he brushed a thumb across your lower lip, “It’s okay?” He asked, breathless, and it sent a pang through you. That he was worried maybe you didn’t want him.

You nodded eagerly and then his mouth was on yours. It was deep and imploring the way he kissed you. Slow and patient, even though he had been waiting, begging, to taste you like this for weeks. But Robby had never been a frantic lover, he always longed for deep and slow so he could really feel you, commit every touch and taste to memory to be dissected later when you weren’t around. When all he had to satisfy himself was the thought of you.

He was capable of doing it fast and rough, if that was what you needed, but he would choose this every time. Still kissing you, he reached behind you to turn off the shower.

“No shower sex?” You teased.

“Absolutely not,” He grabbed a towel and wrapped it as much as he could around both of you, drying quickly, “Not with the way I need to have you right now.”

Your stomach flipped as he guided you back to the bedroom, lips never leaving yours. When the backs of your legs hit the bed, you stopped him with a hand to his chest.

“You first,” You said, gesturing to the bed.

He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing more as he sat on the edge of the bed. You stood between his thighs, hand still pressed to his chest. Robby put his hand over yours, face tilted up just a bit so he could watch you.

You pushed gently until he was flat on the bed crawling over him until you were perched above him. Teasingly, you ground down, rubbing your folds against his erection and watched with satisfaction as his eyes rolled back.

“Fuck,” He swore, and then reached a hand to the back of your neck, pulling you back down so he could muffle his desperate whines with your mouth.

You kept grinding as you kissed him, sucking on his tongue as you slid against him, almost, almost allowing him to slip inside, but not quite. Over and over and over until he felt delirious and a little insane.

“This is fucking cruel,” He panted desperately after a few minutes of your teasing, “If I knew you were going to do this I never would have let you get on top.”

“Oh?” You smirked, “I thought you liked it slow?”

Again, you teased his tip with your entrance, and he made a noise halfway between a groan and a laugh when you slipped away again, “Oh, sweetheart, if you don’t ride me right fucking now, I will make you regret how much of a brat you’re being.”

As enticing as that sounded to you, you decided to put him out of his misery. Pushing a hand between the two of you, you guided him to your entrance before fully taking him. Your head instantly fell to his shoulder, gasping as he stretched you out.

“That’s it,” He sighed, his hips bucking into you. As you adjusted to the stretch of him, whining into his neck, he gripped your hips with his fingers and started rolling them himself, “Come on, sweetheart, this is what you wanted, right? Push that pretty head of yours up, wanna see your eyes on me when you ride me.”

You did as you were told. Pushed yourself up with your hands flat to his chest, he hit a different spot now and it had you gasping, how deep he hit.

“You can take it,” He encouraged, rolling your hips again with his hands. For a moment, the feel of him inside you was so intense, spots clouded your vision, “That’s it,” He said when he felt you begin to bounce on him without his assistance, “Good girl. Keep your eyes on me.”

He reached a hand to the apex of your thighs, circling your clit, and you very nearly folded in half at the sensation, but Robby caught you with his other hand, “Keep moving those hips or I’ll stop.”

It was supposed to be you who was in control, but as soon as he had filled you up, all ability to think had left you. The effect he had on you was all consuming. It was unfair, really. Whimpering, you continued rolling your hips, the two of you moaning in sync as you did.

Eventually, Robby sat up, his hands coming to your back to keep you in his lap, “I think it’s time I take over, hm?” He asked softly and kissed you when you nodded, breathless.

You lifted off of him, both of you hissing at the loss and then Robby directed you to lie flat on your stomach. “Up just a little?” He murmured, using a hand to pull your hips up just slightly at an angle, “There you go, good girl.”

Fisting his cock, he leaned down so he could taste you, licking long stripes from your clit to the ends of your folds and you moaned, fisting the bed sheets.

Your breathing caught when he pushed a finger into you and you heard him sigh from behind you. “Fuck me,” He murmured more to himself than to you.

Finally, he pushed himself into you and then leaned over you, pushing you both flat against the mattress. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, not to choke, but the suggestion that he could was there and your stomach tightened.

“I want you to come first,” He whispered in your ear as he started to rock back and forth, effortlessly hitting that spot that made you dizzy with pleasure. The movement created friction from the bed sheets to your clit and you moaned, “Think you can do that for me, angel?”

You hummed in response, “Already close.” You managed.

He quickened his pace only slightly, but enough that the rhythm had every one of your muscles tightening, coiling for release, “Oh, I can feel how close you are,” He groaned, your walls tightening around him, “Come on, sweetheart, just a little more.”

You rutted your hips further into the mattress as he rocked into you, creating as much friction as possible, and then you were coming undone. Robby’s arms tightened around you as if to anchor you as your muscles contracted repeatedly and he whispered how good you are, how pretty, all the while still rocking his hips into you.

As you came down from your orgasm, he quickened his thrusts, pushing into you harder and faster until he was quickly pulling out of you, ropes of cum releasing on your ass and back.

He collapsed to the side of you, both of you breathing hard as you turned to look at each other. You smiled softly at him, eyes drooping with exhaustion now that the rush of your climax had begun to fade.

He threaded a hand through the hair at the nape of your neck and pulled you to him, kissing you tenderly, “Don’t move.”

Once he had cleaned you up, he guided you back to the shower. Back under the water, he silently turned you so he could resume massaging your shoulders and neck.

“Gonna put me to sleep,” You said after a few minutes under the gentle assault of his fingers.

“That’s the idea.”

You whined, “But it’s been so long, don’t you want a round two?”

He chuckled behind you, “You need to sleep first, you’re running on fumes and spite.”

You smirked, “I have enough of both to make you come again.”

“Tempting,” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, “But no.” He turned off the shower and grabbed a towel to wrap around you, “Bed. Now.”

“Buzzkill.” You teased as you dried yourself off, slipping into a clean t-shirt and panties before sliding between the sheets.

Robby joined you shortly after and the two of you faced each other in bed. Your eyes were closed and you listened to the sound of his breathing, he took a deep inhale before speaking again, “I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I have a feeling your phone’s gonna start ringing very early tomorrow. I don’t want you talking to them before we’ve had a chance to talk.”

You sighed and blinked your eyes open again. The room was dark, but you could make out the shape of him, the soft glint of his eyes as they watched you. His hand rested on your hip, his thumb rubbing circles at the bare skin between your panties and t-shirt.

“What would you have me do?” You asked softly, “Tell them to get fucked?”

“You should tell them you don’t have the money.”

“But I do have the money.”

“When was the last time you gave Tommy money, hm?”

You sighed, “Last year.”

“How much?”

“Three grand.”

“And what did he do with it?” You were quiet, so he answered for you, “He gambled it all away in two weeks, if I remember correctly.”

“This is different, it’s for a solid, tangible item that he needs—“

“Yeah, a car he fucking needs and that he hasn’t been taking care of. He has no fucking reason to because he knows you’ll swoop in to save him whenever he needs it.”

Your chin wobbled and you were thankful the darkness must have covered the hurt look on your face, “You do realize,” You said slowly, focusing on making sure your voice didn’t shake, “That this is all I have? That I have no worth to them if I can’t… If I can’t be the one to fix things?”

“Baby, what I’m trying to tell you is that you’ll never win them that way.” He said gently, “You’ve been cleaning up their messes for, what? Twenty years now? Have you gotten what you want yet? Do they respect you? Love you? Are they gentle with you or do they keep trying to see how many pieces they can break you into?”

You flinched, “That’s a fucked up thing to say to me.” You said quietly.

You heard him sigh and he pulled you closer to him, a silent apology. He didn’t want to hurt you, but it was frankly exhausting watching the way your family continued to take advantage of you.

“What was it your therapist said? About your mom? About your brother?”

You took a shaky inhale, “That they’ve been like this their whole lives and have never tried to change. So my continued efforts to help them change are not only in vein they just end up damaging me instead.”

Robby said nothing, but rubbed your back as he waited. Waited for you to hear what you’d just said, what your therapist had been saying, what he had been saying all day. You deserved better than this from them, God knew, but you would never get it. And it would destroy you the more you kept trying.

You bit your lip, “Fuck.” He heard the tears in the back of your throat as you said it. The realization hitting you all at once, the one you knew but had been trying your best to avoid confronting

He kissed your hair, “Don’t give him that money,” He murmured, “Take care of yourself for once.”

You pushed your face into his neck and sighed, “Okay.”

“I’ll talk to them if you need me to.”

“No,” You said quickly, “No, I can do it.”

He tenderly kissed all over your face, and then finally, kissed your lips, long and slow and he hoped full of as much love as he felt, “You’re very brave, you know?” He said softly.

You smiled, “Thank you.”

Robby pressed one last kiss to your mouth before tucking you under his chin, “Now, get some sleep, sweetheart.”

#the pitt #the pitt x reader #dr robby #dr robby x reader #michael robinavitch #michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby fic #dr robby imagine #dr robby smut #mine

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uncuredturkeybacon · 1 month ago

Text

𝚜𝚒𝚡 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which love never ends

The sun filtered in through the half-closed blinds of Paige’s dorm room, casting soft strips of light across the hardwood floor. The room was half-packed—open boxes lined the bed, shoes spilling over the edge, books stacked in leaning towers by the door. A half-empty closet loomed in the corner like a reminder of all the time that had passed and how little of it was left.

You stood near her desk, folding up a Wings hoodie that had been sent in the mail last week, her name stitched in bold on the sleeve.

“She really said number one pick,” you teased gently, holding it up like a trophy.

Paige, sitting cross-legged on her bed, looked up at you and grinned. “She really did. Can you believe that?”

“No,” you said, smile twitching at the corner of your mouth. “But I’m proud of her anyway.”

She tilted her head, her smile dimming into something quieter, more thoughtful. “I’m scared.”

You didn’t answer right away. You folded the hoodie neatly and placed it in the open suitcase at the edge of her bed, smoothing it down like it was fragile.

“I know,” you said softly.

“It’s not the game,” she clarified, glancing at you like she needed you to understand. “I’m not scared about basketball. I’m scared of going without you.”

You walked over and sat beside her, one foot tucked under your knee, your shoulder brushing hers.

“I’ll be there,” you said, firm, not flinching.

Paige leaned her head against your shoulder. “Six months feels like a long time.”

“It’s really not.”

“It feels like it.”

You rested your hand on her thigh, fingers curling just slightly into the fabric of her sweats. She was wearing your high school tee—old and oversized, faded from too many washes. You had given it to her years ago when she’d stolen it after a sleepover and never gave it back. You never asked her to.

“You have a whole season to get through,” you said gently. “I have students to teach and finals to grade and middle schoolers to keep from launching glue sticks at each other. It’ll go fast.”

Paige let out a small breath of laughter. “You really want to be a teacher, huh?”

“I already am. I’m a TA now, remember?” you bumped your shoulder against hers. “And I’ve already got my offer letter. Same school district my mom used to work in. Orientation’s the week after graduation.”

She turned toward you, eyes soft and serious. “That’s incredible.”

“You’re incredible,” you said before you could stop yourself.

Paige blinked, looking down like she needed to hide how fast she blushed. She always got like that when you said things too directly. Too honestly.

She didn’t say anything for a moment.

Then, her voice barely above a whisper, “Are you really gonna come to Dallas?”

You turned toward her fully, one leg sliding off the bed to ground yourself. “Yes.”

“You promise?”

You reached for her hand, threading your fingers together. “I promise.”

Her bottom lip quivered just slightly, and she bit down on it like she could swallow the emotion before it broke the surface.

“You’re not just saying that to make it easier.”

“No, Paige. I mean it.” You squeezed her hand. “Six months from now, I’ll be there. I’ll be in your apartment, probably fighting you for closet space and making you pasta after away games.”

She smiled, even as her eyes welled with tears. “You can’t cook.”

“I’m learning. I made that chicken stir fry last week.”

“That was microwaved chicken stir fry.”

“Still counts.”

She laughed through her tears, leaning in to press her forehead to yours. “God, I love you.”

You closed your eyes. “I love you too.”

There were things you didn’t say—like how terrified you were of her leaving, how the thought of waking up alone in your own dorm made your chest ache. How hard it would be to fall asleep without her cold feet pressing against your calves or her late-night whispered rants about practice drills.

But you also didn’t say how proud you were watching her step into this next chapter. You didn’t need to.

Instead, you kissed her—slow, lingering, full of everything you couldn’t fit into words. When you pulled away, her eyes stayed closed like she was memorizing the shape of your mouth.

“You’ll call?” she whispered.

“Every night,” you said. “Even if it’s just to hear you breathe.”

“That’s weird,” she teased.

“That’s love.”

She leaned into your chest, burying her face in your neck, and you held her. You didn’t move for a long time.

When she left for the airport the next morning, her fingers gripped yours until the last possible moment. You kissed her like you were writing a promise into her mouth. Six months, you told her again. You’ll be there in six months.

And as she stepped through the terminal gate, looking back at you with tears in her eyes and her Wings hoodie pulled tight around her, you smiled through your own heartbreak.

Because you meant it.

And because some promises don’t need reminders.

They just need time.

Dallas felt bigger than it looked on a map.

Everything about it—traffic, heat, even the sky—seemed stretched, like someone had pulled the edges of a familiar world just far enough to make it unrecognizable.

Paige sat alone on the living room floor of her new apartment, a half-unpacked box of plates beside her and a phone balanced on her knee. Her wallpaper was still a photo of you— blurry, mid-laugh, sitting cross-legged in the grass at a park. It was from a late spring picnic, right before you both had to pretend you weren’t about to say goodbye.

She stared at the screen like it might blink and bring you back.

You answered after the third ring, your voice a little breathless. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Paige whispered. It came out softer than she meant. Her chest ached.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” you asked.

“No. Just… sitting.”

“On the floor?”

“Yeah. I don’t know where my couch screws went. I might be living a cushion life for a while.”

You laughed—real, warm, familiar. Paige closed her eyes and let it coat the inside of her ribs.

“That’s kind of poetic,” you said. “Starting your WNBA career on the floor of an empty apartment.”

“Feels more pathetic than poetic.”

“No. I like it. It’s humble.”

Paige exhaled, and her voice cracked just slightly. “I miss you.”

The line was quiet for a second. Then you spoke, your voice gentler. “I miss you too.”

She bit the inside of her cheek. “I keep forgetting you’re not ten minutes away. Like today, I had a good practice, and my first thought was ‘I’m gonna stop by your place and tell you everything.’ And then I remembered.”

“I know,” you said. “I do that too.”

“I drove past a coffee shop the other day and almost walked in just to see if you’d be there. Even though you’ve never even been to Texas.”

You smiled, she could hear it. “You’re thinking of the one near Gampel, huh?”

“Yeah.” She swallowed. “The one where you studied and I’d show up pretending I needed help with nutrition class.”

“You did need help.”

“Whatever. It worked.”

She leaned her head back against the wall and looked around at the blank space surrounding her. The moving truck had come and gone. The furniture was in, but the soul of the apartment hadn’t arrived yet.

It was still missing you.

“How’s school?” she asked.

“Chaotic,” you replied. “One of the kids asked me today if people in the ‘old times’ had internet. I said, ‘Define old.’ He said, ‘Like 2005.’”

Paige laughed, shaking her head. “Rude.”

“I’m ancient now,” you said. “Twenty-two and deteriorating.”

“You better still have the strength to carry all your stuff up three flights when you get here.”

“Oh, I do. I’m saving it all up for the move.”

Her smile faltered. “You’re still coming, right?”

You went quiet again. Not hesitant—just letting it settle, weighty and certain.

“Of course I am.”

Paige closed her eyes. “Promise?”

“I already did.”

“I just…” Her voice trailed. “It’s hard. Not hearing your keys in the door. Not getting to see your face at the end of the day. I love my team, I really do—but they’re not you.”

“I’m not replacing anyone,” you said. “Just adding to it.”

She let that sit with her. “I want you here so bad it hurts sometimes.”

“I know,” you whispered. “Me too.”

Her voice shook. “I don’t want us to change.”

“We won’t.”

“But long distance changes people.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “But not us. It might make things harder. But not worse.”

She nodded, even though you couldn’t see it. “I just feel like I’m floating through all this without you. The practices, the press, the apartment—it all feels… half real.”

“Paige,” you said, gentle, firm. “I am coming. I’m not drifting away from you. I’m just walking the longer path to the same place.”

She let the silence wrap around her.

“Say something else,” she said softly. “Just talk to me.”

You paused. “Okay… I hung up pictures in my room. There’s one of us from last spring. You’ve got your mouth full of apple slices and you’re giving me the middle finger because I said you looked like a squirrel.”

She laughed. “I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

Paige smiled, small but genuine. She pictured it. You, in your tiny off-campus apartment. Talking about her like she was still part of your day. She was. You were hers, too.

“I love you,” Paige said.

“I love you more,” you answered.

The days ticked by slower than she liked.

Some nights, she fell asleep with the phone still in her hand, your voice still echoing in her ears from a half-finished conversation. Other nights, she'd stay up scrolling through old pictures, rereading texts, listening to voicemails.

Her teammates teased her about being a hopeless romantic. About how she smiled every time your name came up. About how she always checked her phone like she was waiting for someone to come home.

And she was.

Because in six months—five, now—you would.

And when that day came, Paige knew, no amount of missed calls or empty beds would matter. Because you’d be there. You’d walk through the door with a duffel bag and a tired smile, and she'd finally feel whole again.

But until then… she’d wait.

With her phone in her hand. And your promise in her heart.

The calendar on Paige’s fridge had six weeks circled in red.

It was stupid, maybe, using a physical calendar like some suburban mom—but it grounded her. It gave shape to time that otherwise felt endless. Each “X” she scribbled through a square made the space between now and your arrival just a little smaller.

But it didn’t make the missing hurt any less.

Paige sat curled on the apartment couch, legs tucked under her, bowl of cereal in one hand, phone pressed to her cheek with the other. Her hair was still damp from practice. Her whole body ached—but nothing ached more than the space beside her on the couch.

“I got a voicemail from one of my students today,” your voice said through the speaker. “He said, ‘Miss Y/L/N, I hope you feel better because math was boring without you.’ And then he just hung up. No goodbye. Just vibes.”

Paige chuckled, staring out the window at the pink glow bleeding across the Dallas sky. “You’re their favorite.”

“They’re my favorites too. Even when they call me 'mom' by accident and pretend like it didn’t happen.”

“You do have teacher-mom energy.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said with a laugh. “You miss my teacher-mom energy.”

“Painfully.”

A beat of silence.

“I’m looking at your sweatshirt right now,” you said after a moment. “You left it in my car before you moved. I wore it to bed last night.”

That pulled a breath from Paige she didn’t know she was holding. “Did it still smell like me?”

“It did. Faintly. Like that vanilla lotion you always forget to pack on road trips.”

She smiled. “I haven’t used it since I left.”

“Save it for me?”

“Always.”

She shifted, curling tighter into herself. “Today was hard.”

“Tell me.”

“Team media stuff,” Paige mumbled. “Photos, press questions, PR meetings. They asked about goals. Stats. Leadership. Playmaking. All I could think was, none of that matters until you’re here.”

You were quiet for a moment. “I don’t want to be the reason you’re not present here, Paige.”

“You’re not. You’re the reason I am.” She pressed the heel of her hand into her eye, blinking fast. “I show up every day because I know you’ll be here soon. It’s the only thing keeping me steady.”

You exhaled softly on the other end of the line.

“I’m coming. You know that.”

“I know.”

“But you need to live this part too, babe. Not just wait for me to catch up.”

Paige looked down at the rug. Her socked toe circled the same loop in the fabric she always traced when she was anxious.

“I’m trying,” she whispered.

“I know you are,” you said, gentle and true.

She listened to your breathing—steady, familiar, comforting like a lullaby only she ever got to hear.

“I got your letter,” you said after a pause.

Her breath caught. “You did?”

“It was in my mailbox when I got home today. I read it twice. I cried.”

“Yeah?” Her throat tightened. “I wasn’t sure if I should send it.”

“I’m glad you did.” You paused. “The part where you said you wake up sometimes expecting me to be next to you… that broke me.”

“It breaks me too,” she admitted.

You went quiet, and for a second she thought maybe the call had dropped. But then you spoke, voice lower than before.

“I still sleep on my side of the bed.”

Paige’s eyes burned. “Me too.”

More silence. Not awkward—just full. Weighted. Safe.

“I’ve been drafting lesson plans on weekends,” you said eventually. “Every time I write one, I imagine grading papers at your kitchen table. Coffee beside me. You half-asleep, stealing bites of my breakfast.”

“I want that so bad,” Paige whispered. “Just… life with you.”

“You’ll have it.”

“I’m scared something’s gonna change before then.”

You were quiet. “Do you feel me changing?”

“No,” she answered immediately. “No. I feel you more than ever.”

“Then trust that.”

She let her head fall back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut. “I trust you.”

“Good,” you whispered. “Because I’m not going anywhere. Even if it feels like I’m not close yet—I am. I’m getting closer every single day.”

Paige exhaled shakily. “I need you.”

“You have me.”

It was the kind of sentence Paige wanted to wrap herself in. Warm. Safe. Whole.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you more,” you replied. “Thirty-nine days.”

She smiled.

Thirty-nine days.

She could wait a little longer.

Paige had never looked at a calendar so obsessively in her life.

Thirteen days.

She’d circled the date in three different colors now. Red, then black, then silver Sharpie because it felt permanent. Final. Like a promise.

Thirteen days until you arrived in Dallas. Thirteen days until she wouldn’t have to fall asleep hugging a pillow that didn’t breathe. Until she wouldn’t have to whisper “I love you” to a lock screen photo anymore.

Her teammates noticed.

“You good, Bueckers?” Arike asked at practice after she botched a layup drill for the third time.

“Yeah. Just… distracted.”

DiJonai raised a brow. “Your girl coming soon?”

Paige glanced down at the court, tried to hide her smile. “Thirteen days.”

Arike let out a low whistle. “We’re about to meet the mysterious teacher girlfriend.”

“She’s real?” Maddy Siegrist joked from the sideline. “I thought y’all made her up for the plot.”

“Shut up,” Paige muttered, but she was grinning.

That night, her phone buzzed with a picture.

You. In the mirror. Hair still damp from a shower, her oversized Wings hoodie falling off one shoulder. The caption underneath said, “Borrowed this. Sorry, not sorry.”

Paige melted into her mattress.

“That’s the only crime I fully endorse.”

Then she FaceTimed you.

You answered almost immediately, face bright despite the bags under your eyes. “Hey, superstar.”

“Hey, thief.”

You smiled. “Caught me.”

“You look good in that.”

“I better. You left it behind for a reason.”

“I did,” Paige said softly. “So you’d have something to hold until I could do it myself again.”

Your face shifted, tenderness blooming at the edges of your eyes. “Two weeks.”

“Twelve days.”

You sighed, smiling into the phone like she’d pressed a kiss to your cheek through the screen. “I packed up my classroom today. Left a note on the desk for the next TA.”

Paige nodded. “It’s real now, huh?”

“It’s always been real,” you said. “But now it’s here. It’s close.”

Paige ran a hand through her hair, breath shaky. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“That something will go wrong. That the plane will get canceled. Or your offer will fall through. Or you’ll—”

“I’m coming,” you interrupted, firm, grounding her. “There’s no ‘what if.’ I’m coming. Eleven days and twenty hours. I counted.”

Paige stared at you for a long second.

“Come sleep on the call,” she said quietly.

You blinked. “You want me to fall asleep with you on the phone?”

“I want to hear you breathe,” she whispered. “I want to pretend the distance isn’t real for one night.”

You didn’t hesitate. “Okay.”

She propped her phone up on the pillow beside her. You did the same. It wasn’t perfect—fuzzy audio, a time delay—but it was yours. You talked about nothing for a while. What you made for dinner (pasta), the paper you were editing (some kid plagiarized a poem about dogs), your grocery list for when you moved in (cereal, way too much oat milk, frozen dumplings).

And then it got quiet.

Your voice came soft in the dark, “Ten days tomorrow.”

“I know,” Paige murmured. “It’s starting to feel real.”

“It is real.”

She reached for the screen, like touching glass could bridge miles. “I can’t wait to kiss you again.”

You let out a breath. “Don’t make me cry this late.”

“I just miss you,” Paige said, voice cracking.

“I know, baby. I miss you too.”

Seven days before you arrive, a package showed up at her door with your name scribbled across the top.

Inside was a box of school supplies—pens, Post-its, paper clips—and a hand-written note.

“Figured I should bring some of me to you before I physically can. Can’t wait to leave these all over your kitchen table. Love you always, Your favorite teacher.”

She cried for fifteen minutes after opening it

Four days before, she sat at a team dinner scrolling through your texts, tuning out everything else.

Her phone buzzed.

“T-minus 96 hours. Pack extra chapstick. You’re not escaping all the kisses I owe you.”

She nearly choked on her lemonade.

She didn’t sleep.

She lay on the couch in your sweatshirt, staring at the ceiling, heart galloping in her chest like she was waiting for Christmas morning.

The phone rang at 1:08 AM.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked.

“Nope.”

“Me neither.”

You were quiet together for a while. Then Paige whispered, “Where are you?”

You laughed. “Still in Connecticut. Bags packed. Suitcase by the door. I keep checking my flight time every ten minutes.”

“Me too,” she said. “I keep opening the guest closet to make sure I left you enough space.”

“You didn’t.”

“Guess we’ll be sharing hangers then.” A pause. “Next time I call you,” you said, “it won’t be through a screen.”

Paige closed her eyes. “I’m gonna hold you so tight.”

“I’m gonna let you.”

Two days before.

The sun in Dallas was blinding. Unreasonably bright for a city that had no idea her world was about to tilt.

Paige had just gotten home from practice, keys still in hand, backpack sliding off her shoulder when she grabbed her phone.

One new message from you.

“On the way to my last class now—remind me to tell you about the 8th grader who tried to give me a friendship bracelet today. He said it was for luck on my big move .”

She smiled. She sat on the arm of the couch and typed fast.

“That’s the cutest thing ever.”

Delivered.

No read receipt. That was fine. You were still in class.

An hour passed.

She sent another.

“Dinner’s on me when you land. I bought dumplings. Don’t fight me.”

No response.

She waited.

She called around 9 p.m.

Once. Twice.

Three rings, voicemail.

She left a message.

“Hey, you okay? I know you’ve probably got a million things going on—boxes, checklists, last-minute goodbyes—but… just call me when you get a second, okay? I just want to hear your voice.”

She kept her phone next to her pillow that night, volume up, screen brightness high.

Nothing.

One day before.

The silence clung to her.

She woke with a headache, heart already racing, the cold side of the bed feeling like an accusation.

Still nothing from you.

Paige rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

“This is fine,” she whispered to herself. “You’re just busy. You’re probably with your family. Maybe your phone died.”

She called again.

Straight to voicemail.

She texted.

“I’m starting to worry. Just… send me a thumbs up or anything. Please.”

Nothing.

She paced the apartment, uneaten toast still on her plate, coffee gone cold in her mug.

That night, she sat on the kitchen floor in front of the fridge, phone in her lap, eyes red.

“Where are you?” “Baby, please.” “Just tell me you're okay.” “I don’t care if you’re not getting on the plane. I just need to know you're okay.”

She didn’t sleep.

Just stared at the wall.

The day of.

She cleaned the apartment top to bottom.

She couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t cry again.

You were supposed to land at 4:27 p.m.

She stared at the time on her screen—4:00… 4:15… 4:27… 4:40.

No call. No knock at the door. No text.

She scrolled to the airport’s arrival board online. Typed your flight number. Watched it switch from Scheduled to Landed.

Still nothing.

She picked up her phone again. Shaking fingers. Dialed.

Voicemail.

She left one anyway, voice cracking.

“Please don’t do this to me. Please. Just… I need you. I need to know if you’re—if you’re safe. If you changed your mind, I’ll understand. I swear, I’ll understand. Just don’t let it end like this. Not in silence.”

She hung up.

Then slumped down against the front door and broke.

Her body folded over itself. Sobs racked through her like her heart had forgotten how to beat without yours to match it. She stayed there, curled up, whispering your name like a prayer.

She didn’t turn the lights on.

She sat in the dark with your hoodie balled up in her arms and her phone still in her hand.

Her last text read, “I’ll wait by the door.”

But she never heard the knock.

Paige sat on the apartment floor again, back pressed against the kitchen cabinets. The tile was cold beneath her legs. She hadn’t eaten more than toast in 36 hours.

The dumplings were still in the freezer. She hadn’t touched them. Couldn’t.

She refreshed her texts.

Still no read receipts. Still no dots. Still no “Delivered” beneath her messages.

She called again.

Straight to voicemail.

She whispered into the silence like maybe this time the void would answer her.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” she said. “I don’t know if you’re ghosting me or if you’re gone. Please—please—just give me something. Let me hate you. Let me worry. Just don’t let me do both.”

She hung up. Laid down. Didn’t move.

She went to practice. No one said anything until the third missed shot in a row.

“Yo,” Arike called out. “You good, Paige?”

She didn’t answer right away. Just wiped sweat from her brow and threw the ball at the nearest rack.

“Fine.”

“You’re not.”

“I said I’m fine,” Paige snapped, sharper than she meant to. Her voice echoed off the gym walls like a slap.

Her teammates exchanged looks.

“Alright,” Nai said as they walked out of the locker room. “Spill. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Try again.”

Paige exhaled, shoulders slumped. “She was supposed to be here. Three days ago.”

Nai paused. “Wait—your girl? She didn’t come?”

“No call. No text. No voicemail. Nothing.”

Nai’s face softened. “Shit, Paige…”

“I don’t even know if she’s alive.”

“Have you… talked to anyone? Like, her friends, her mom—?”

“She’s private about that. Her family… it’s complicated.”

Nai hesitated. “Did she ever give any signs that she wouldn’t come?”

“No.” Paige blinked hard. “She was excited. We planned everything down to the shelf space. She sent me a letter. She told me she was counting hours. And now it’s just—gone.”

Nai put a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.”

Paige flinched. “What if there’s nothing to figure out?”

Nai didn’t answer that.

The team had an off day.

Paige didn’t leave bed.

She watched your old videos on her phone—the ones you sent her when you used to stay up late decorating your classroom or making grilled cheese while dancing around your kitchen.

She watched them on loop until her phone died.

And then she just laid there, eyes burning.

Maddy brought takeout over.

“You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I didn’t ask.”

They sat in silence on the couch. Paige pushed rice around her plate without lifting the fork once.

Maddy glanced at her. “Is there any chance she—like, she couldn’t call?”

Paige’s voice cracked. “I don’t know. I’ve thought of everything. Every possibility. Car accident. No service. Anxiety. Cold feet. But it’s been over a week.”

“Have you heard anything?”

Paige shook her head. “Her phone goes straight to voicemail. Her email bounced. Her socials are dark. It’s like she fell off the planet.”

“Bueckers…”

“I keep checking the door,” Paige whispered. “I know she’s not coming, but I can’t help it. I still wake up thinking I’ll hear her keys.”

Maddy’s voice went soft. “You really loved her, huh?”

Paige nodded, eyes shining. “Still do.”

The media started noticing.

Her stats dropped. Her answers got shorter. Smiles didn’t reach her eyes.

In a post-practice interview, someone asked, “Everything okay off the court?”

She blinked, stunned into stillness.

Then nodded once.

But when she got back to the locker room, she cried into her jersey until her shoulders shook and her breath hitched and she didn’t know how to stop.

She texted you again.

“It’s been almost two weeks. Please. I’m not mad. I just need to know if you’re okay. I won’t ask anything else. Just… say something. Anything.”

She stared at the screen for hours.

Nothing.

She scrolled through every old message. Every photo. Every “I love you more.” Every kiss emoji. Every half-finished voice memo you never sent but saved for later.

She played one on loop.

“God, I can’t wait to be there. To be home. With you.”

And then, when her hands couldn’t stop shaking, she recorded one of her own. She didn’t know if it would ever be heard. But she sent it anyway.

“Hey. It’s Paige. I guess this is… my last message. I don’t know if you’re out there, or if you changed your mind, or if something happened and you’re too scared to tell me. But I still love you. And I always will. No matter what.”

She hit send.

And this time, she didn’t wait for the three dots to appear.

There was a new voicemail on Paige’s phone.

Not from you.

Just a spam number, something about her car warranty.

She deleted it without listening.

Your name—your entire thread—was now buried in her messages. She hadn’t opened it in four days. Not because she didn’t care. Because she couldn’t.

Every time she saw it, her stomach clenched. Not from love. From loss.

You had disappeared 25 days ago.

She used to count the days with hope. Now it just felt like proof that people vanish. Even the ones who swore they’d never leave.

Her texts to you had slowed. At first they’d been frantic—ten a day, calls at every hour. Then five a day. Then one. Then every few days.

Now? Nothing in almost a week.

She didn’t even cry anymore.

She just… lived.

Empty. Quiet. Going through the motions.

Practice was quiet. No jokes. No trash talk. Just the dull thud of the ball against hardwood and the squeak of sneakers she barely registered anymore.

Her shooting percentage had dropped 8%.

The coaching staff hadn’t said anything yet, but she could feel it. The stares. The sighs. The weight of eyes tracking her when they thought she wasn’t looking.

After practice, she sat on the locker room bench for ten minutes too long, staring at the wall like it might say something. Like you used to.

She pulled out her phone.

No new messages. No calls.

She scrolled to your contact anyway. Just to see it. Just to remind herself that once, there was a world where your name lit up her screen like sunlight.

She closed the app.

Went home.

Didn’t even shower.

Her phone rang.

She was mid-laundry, a damp towel slung over one arm, the apartment humid from the dryer running too long.

She didn’t check it immediately. Assumed it was Nai or maybe Coach.

It rang again.

She glanced over.

Paused.

Your name.

Your contact photo—the one she took on a lazy spring day, you in her hoodie, your cheeks pink from sun and laughter.

She froze. The call kept ringing. Her thumb hovered. She didn’t move. She just watched it ring. Watched it buzz against the counter like it hadn’t been silent for a month.

Then she let it stop. Didn’t touch it. Didn’t breathe. The screen went dark. She stood still for a long time. It rang again. Same name. Same photo. Same ringtone she hadn’t changed since the day you set it for yourself.

But this time, something cracked in her chest—not a sob, not panic. Just anger. Cold, bitter, exhausted anger.

You didn’t get to vanish for four weeks and come back like nothing happened. You didn’t get to disappear and then dial her number like it was safe to do so. You didn’t get to decide when she hurt. She watched it ring again. Didn’t answer. Didn’t move.

She whispered into the silence, voice flat, “You don’t get to do this to me.”

Then the call ended. And the phone was quiet again. And she sat down on the kitchen floor like she had the first night you didn’t show up. But this time, she didn’t cry. This time, she just turned the phone over, face down.

Let the silence reclaim the room.

The lights at Target Center always made Paige feel electric.

It was different being back here—being home. But nothing about tonight felt comforting.

She was sharp in warmups. Crisp. Clean. Cold. Her jumper was falling like clockwork. Her footwork flawless. Her body obeyed in a way her heart hadn’t for weeks.

She was pissed.

And she was going to take it out on the court.

Fans were already filling in as she paced the baseline, headphones slung around her neck, eyes unfocused as she dribbled through sets.

And then—she saw her.

Your mom.

Sitting alone. Courtside. Seat 3A. The one you said was your favorite seat cause you could watch her without getting blocked by other people.

She was smaller than Paige remembered. Or maybe just older. Her coat was folded neatly in her lap, hands clutching it like it could keep her together.

Paige’s heart stuttered.

She looked away.

Kept warming up.

Refused to let herself feel anything.

Not now. Not after four weeks of unanswered calls. Not after those two rings she let pass without lifting a finger.

She buried the sight of her behind a wall of rage. Let her heartbeat sync with the squeak of shoes, the thud of the ball, the echo of her name being announced with fire in the intro video.

And when the game started?

She was unreal.

Floaters. Crossovers. Mid-range pull-ups that never touched the rim.

By halftime, she had 18 points and 5 assists.

By the end of the third quarter, 27 points, 3 steals, and the crowd was roaring every time she touched the ball.

She didn’t crack. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.

Not until the final buzzer sounded.

Not until she saw your mom again.

Still there. Still alone.

Waiting.

She pulled her warmup jacket on and started walking toward the tunnel, jaw tight, jaw locked.

“Paige.” She didn’t stop. “Paige, please.”

No.

She kept walking. One foot in front of the other.

“She didn’t break her promise to you.”

That made her pause.

Your mom’s voice cracked through the noise like a crack in glass.

“She didn’t leave you.”

Paige’s breath caught.

She turned—slow, deliberate.

Your mom was standing now, gripping the railing, eyes already shining with tears.

“She was coming to you,” she whispered. “She never stopped loving you.”

“What did you just say?” Paige’s voice was a whisper.

The older woman’s lips trembled. “Can we… Can we talk somewhere else?”

Paige didn’t respond.

Just reached for her, fingers numb, and pulled her through the tunnel, past a stunned PR intern, down the hallway.

Into the locker room.

Empty.

Silent.

She shut the door behind them. Locked it.

Turned around.

“Say it again,” she said. Not a request. A plea.

Your mother stared at her, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. Her voice was barely there.

“She was on her way to Dallas,” she said. “She left two days early. Wanted to surprise you.”

Paige didn’t move.

“She was so excited. She couldn’t stop smiling. Said she wanted to be there when you got home from practice, said she couldn’t wait another day. She didn’t even tell me. I found the note on the kitchen table.”

Paige’s knees buckled.

She caught herself on the edge of a bench. “No,” she whispered.

“She got in the car that morning. Early. She never made it to the airport.”

Her heart stopped.

“She was hit by a semi on I-95. Fog was thick. The driver didn’t see her. She died on impact.”

Paige didn’t breathe. Couldn’t.

Your mother’s eyes filled again. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t know—how to reach you. I didn’t have your number, not anymore. I tried social media, but…”

“You didn’t call the team?” Paige’s voice was raw.

“I tried, but they didn’t believe me.”

Paige’s hands were shaking.

Your mother took a slow step forward. “She had gifts in the car. Her famous dumplings. Your favorite lotion. And a sweatshirt she swore would make you cry. She had this whole plan. She wanted to sneak in and wait on your couch.”

Paige let out a broken laugh. “That sounds like her.”

“She loved you so much.”

“I know,” Paige whispered, the first tear falling. “I know.”

And then she couldn’t stop them.

They came all at once—weeks of confusion, silence, fury, grief—crashing over her like a wave she never saw coming.

She sobbed into her hands, whole body trembling.

“She said she was coming,” Paige cried. “I waited. I waited so long.”

Your mother stepped forward, slowly, and sat beside her. She didn’t speak. Just reached for Paige’s hand.

It was cold. Small. Familiar.

“She tried,” she said.

That was all.

And it was everything.

That night, Paige didn’t go out with the team. Didn’t talk to media. Didn’t even turn on the lights when she got back to her hotel room.

She laid in bed, clutching her phone.

Opened your last message—the one with the bracelet story.

She read it over and over until her eyes blurred.

Then she opened her voicemails. The one you never got to hear.

She hit play.

And for the first time, she let herself believe you heard it after all.

The rest of the Wings flew back to Dallas the next morning.

Paige didn’t.

She sent a text to her coach. “I need a few more days. I’ll explain when I can.” She didn’t get a reply, just three dots. “Take your time. We’ve got you.”

Your mother offered her the guest room without hesitation.

But Paige couldn’t sleep.

She sat in your driveway for almost half an hour before walking inside, her duffel bag untouched in the trunk. The porch creaked the same way it had in high school. The air smelled like cinnamon and old books. The light in the hallway still flickered if you walked too fast.

The house felt like it had been paused mid-laugh.

Your mother gave her a quiet smile. “You can go up if you want.”

Paige hesitated at the stairs.

“I haven’t changed a thing,” she added.

Paige nodded.

And climbed.

Each step was an echo.

Your bedroom door was half-closed.

She pushed it open slowly, like the room might wake up.

It looked exactly the same.

The posters. The scuffed desk. The stack of books under your windowsill. The UConn flag pinned above your bed from the day you got your acceptance letter.

It felt like walking into a snow globe—perfectly preserved, terrifyingly still.

Her legs moved without permission. She stood in the center of the room, eyes darting from corner to corner.

There was the dent in the wall where you’d knocked your chair back too far trying to recreate a TikTok dance.

There was the blanket she gave you senior year—navy blue, your name and hers stitched into the corner like some inside joke you never explained to anyone else.

There was your old lanyard, still hanging from the doorknob.

And then her eyes landed on it.

The photo frame on your nightstand.

It was them.

Her and you.

From sophomore year.

Both in hoodies, half-asleep on your porch swing. She was leaning into you, your arm around her, eyes closed. You were laughing—head tilted, light spilling from you like a secret the world didn’t deserve.

She staggered forward.

Knees hit the side of the bed.

She picked up the frame with trembling hands. Traced your face with her thumb. Pressed it to her chest like it was the only part of you left.

That’s when it broke.

All of it.

The strength. The waiting. The hope. The disbelief.

She collapsed onto your bed in sobs that felt like thunder.

Big, gasping, shoulder-racking sobs.

“Why,” she cried into your pillow, voice muffled, raw. “Why didn’t I pick you up myself? Why didn’t I call more? Send someone? Why wasn’t I there?”

The pillow soaked beneath her. Your scent still faint.

She curled into it like it could answer her.

“God, you were right there. You were coming to me—early. And I didn’t—I didn’t even get to see you.”

The photo dropped from her hand and landed face-up beside her.

Her tears made the glass shimmer.

She pressed her cheek to it.

“Come back,” she whispered. “Please, baby. I don’t know how to live without you.”

She stayed there for what felt like hours.

Maybe it was.

No one came to check. Your mother didn’t knock. She must’ve known—must’ve felt it.

Paige eventually sat up, wiped her eyes on your sweatshirt still folded at the foot of your bed.

Her voice was wrecked when she finally whispered, “I never stopped waiting for you.”

And maybe she never would.

The cemetery was quiet.

The kind of quiet that made you feel like time had paused just long enough for the earth to breathe.

It was a cool, overcast morning—no sun, no shadows. Just that still, aching gray that matched the way Paige’s heart had felt since the moment she heard the words "she was on her way to surprise you."

Your mother had told her where to go.

Plot 47. Near the far oak. The one that turns red the first in fall.

The walk from the parking lot was long.

Paige carried a bouquet in one hand—sunflowers and dahlias, wrapped in twine. You always said they looked like fireworks made out of joy. She never forgot that.

Her other hand stayed tucked in her jacket pocket, fingers curled tight like she might fall apart if she let them open.

When she reached your grave, she just stood.

Still.

Frozen.

Your name was etched in marble now. Sharp, clean lettering. Birth year. Dash. End year.

Too soon. So unfairly soon.

Beneath it, a line she recognized.

She loved loudly. She laughed often. She never said goodbye without meaning it.

Paige bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.

She knelt slowly. Placed the flowers at the base. Adjusted them twice, even though they were already perfect.

And then she sat.

Cross-legged on the grass.

Facing you.

“I thought I’d have more time,” she said quietly.

The breeze stirred the petals.

“I thought you’d walk into my apartment two days early and I’d laugh and tell you you were crazy for not telling me. I thought we’d fight about cabinet space. I thought I’d kiss you every night for the rest of my life.”

She swallowed hard.

“But instead… I’m sitting here. And this is the first time I’ve seen your name in stone.”

A pause.

“I was angry. Your mom called me after a month of silence and I was angry. I didn’t know you were on your way to me. I didn’t know you never made it.”

She looked down, hands clenched in her lap.

“I thought you left me.”

Her breath trembled.

“I didn’t know you were trying to come home.”

She looked up at the sky.

“I would’ve waited at the airport all day if I had known. I would’ve driven to Minnesota and brought you myself. I would’ve done anything, anything, to see you one more time.”

Her jaw tensed. Eyes shined with fresh tears.

“I still talk to you. Every night. I sleep in your hoodie. I make coffee and pour two mugs like an idiot.”

She wiped her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

“The team doesn’t ask anymore. I think they’re scared of breaking me. But I’ve already been broken.”

She took a breath.

“But I’m still here.”

The wind picked up. Rustled the oak leaves above.

“I went back to your bedroom,” Paige said. “It looked exactly the same. Like you were just at school and would be home by dinner.”

She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a small laminated photo—the same one that had sat on your nightstand. The one of the two of you from sophomore year. She laid it gently between the flowers and the stone.

“I wanted to leave this with you,” she said. “Because even if I have to move forward, I’m not leaving you. You’re still the best part of me.”

A gust of wind blew through the grass. Paige looked down.

Her voice dropped, barely audible.

“I love you,” she whispered. “And I always will.”

She sat there for a long time.

Telling you about her next game. About the dumplings she finally cooked. About the song that made her think of you last week and how she cried in the car on the way to practice.

She stayed until the sun started peeking out again. Until the clouds began to thin and the shadows returned.

Then she stood. Pressed two fingers to her lips. Then to your name.

And walked away.

The flowers swayed in the breeze behind her.

The picture stayed.

You stayed.

The cheers were deafening.

It was the second round of the playoffs. Dallas had clawed their way in, and now they were clawing their way forward. The whole arena stood as Paige walked toward center court, Rookie of the Year graphic blazing behind her.

Bright lights. Brighter smile.

But behind that smile, a tremor.

She hadn’t slept much the night before. Not because of nerves. But because the one person she wanted to share this with wasn’t there.

Would never be there again.

She stepped forward, hands steady despite the storm inside her. Her name echoed from the speakers. “2025 WNBA Rookie of the Year… Paige Bueckers!”

Applause.

Spotlights.

Cameras flashing.

A league rep handed her the trophy—sleek, metallic, engraved. Her fingers curled around it automatically. Like she was on autopilot.

She turned to the mic.

The crowd quieted.

Her voice started strong.

“Um… wow. This means the world. First of all, thank you to the league, my teammates, my coaches. The Dallas Wings believed in me the second they drafted me, and I hope I’ve made them proud.”

More cheers.

She smiled faintly.

“I want to thank my family. My friends. The fans. And my hometown—Hopkins, I love you.”

More applause.

Then a pause.

She glanced down at the trophy in her hand. Her fingers tightened.

Her voice softened.

“But… there’s someone else I need to thank.”

The arena stilled.

Paige’s throat bobbed.

“She… she should’ve been here. And she almost was.”

The crowd hushed.

Paige blinked up at the rafters like she was asking for strength from a sky that still felt too far away.

“She was the first person who told me I was going to make it here. She saw this moment before I did. She believed in me when I was tired. She reminded me why I loved this game when I couldn’t feel it.”

She looked directly into the camera.

“Thank you for loving me. For believing in me. For being the kindest, brightest part of my life. This award… I share it with you. I dedicate it to you.”

A single tear slid down her cheek.

“You didn’t make it to the game. But you made me. Every piece of me. So I carry you every time I step on this court.”

The crowd began clapping—slow, quiet. Then stronger. Louder.

Rising like a wave.

Paige stepped back from the mic.

She raised the trophy once. Small, solemn.

And whispered, not into the microphone, but just to the air.

“I hope you’re proud of me.”

The cemetery was quiet again.

Autumn had arrived. The oak tree beside your grave had started to turn—flaming reds and soft oranges bleeding down through the branches like a slow goodbye.

Paige walked the familiar path in silence.

No cameras. No team. No PR handlers. No trophy case.

Just her.

And the small velvet-lined box tucked under her arm.

She wore your hoodie. It still smelled faintly like your shampoo. It was a little too worn now, the cuffs fraying. But it was hers. And it had been yours. And that made it holy.

When she reached your grave, she knelt.

The headstone hadn’t changed. Still your name. Still that cruel little dash between two years that weren’t enough. Still that line.

She never said goodbye without meaning it.

Paige set the box down beside the sunflowers and dahlias she’d brought. The same flowers she always did.

She didn’t open the box right away.

Just stared at your name. Let the wind brush over her face. Let the silence wrap around her like a question with no answer.

“I said I’d bring it to you,” she whispered eventually.

Her fingers found the edges of the velvet. She lifted the lid.

Inside was her Rookie of the Year trophy—well, a replica. The league had sent a second version when they needed to display the original. She didn’t correct them. She was glad for it.

Because this one was for you.

She picked it up gently. Placed it against the stone.

“This was yours before it was mine,” she said. “You trained me in the off-seasons. You studied game tape with me. You kept me grounded when I got caught in my own head.”

She exhaled. It sounded like surrender.

“I know I said the words in my speech. But I needed to say them here.”

A leaf drifted down between them.

She smiled faintly.

“I miss you every day. I talk to you before every game. I look for your face in every crowd. I still text you sometimes. Even though I know the only place I can send anything now… is here.”

She touched the trophy. Then the top edge of your headstone.

“I hope wherever you are, you’re still loud. Still laughing. Still correcting my form from the sidelines and making fun of how dramatic I get during interviews.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. She didn’t wipe it away.

“I won, baby,” she whispered. “And it should’ve been us holding this together.”

Her voice dropped to something barely audible.

“But I’m still holding it for both of us.”

She leaned forward. Pressed a kiss to the marble.

And then sat beside your grave. Not in mourning.

But in memory.

She stayed until the sky turned pink behind the trees.

Then stood.

One last look at the trophy. At the stone. At the name she loved more than her own.

“I’ll be back,” she said. “That’s a promise.”

And when she walked away, the wind rustled the leaves—gentle, soft, as if the trees themselves whispered back.

I know.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige buckets #paige x reader #uconn women’s basketball #uconn wbb #lesbian #wlw #wuh luh wuh #dallas wings #wnba x reader #wnba #paige bueckers fanfic #paige bueckers uconn

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starkeyszn · 5 months ago

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late night talking blurb with rafe cameron ⊹ ࣪ ˖

pairing: sweetheart¡maybank x rafe¡cameron

notes: reader is referred to as sweetie, but also includes pet names!

sweetie sighed, hearing her phone repeatedly buzz on her night stand, indicating a phone call was coming through. she rolled on her side, reaching for her phone on her night stand. sweetie saw the caller id ‘rafey ♡’

she was quick to press the green button, the call now going through. rafe’s soft voice, that was only for her, spoke on the other side of the line, “hi sweetheart.”

her raspy voice tinged, “hi rafey.” he was quick to notice her raspy voice, “did i wake you, shit ‘m sorry.”

she quickly cut him off, “you’re good—i wasn’t fast asleep anyway.” “is something wrong—?” sweetie added, glancing to the clock that was on her bedside table, reading the time, 12:23AM.

“no, jus’ missed hearing your pretty voice.” rafe replied, “wish you were here.” he trailed off.

“me too rafe, but i’ll see you soon, kay?”

“of course you will, i’ll take you out tomorrow, how’s that sound, hm?”

sweetie smiled, rolling on her back, still holding the phone to her ear, “sounds perfect rafey.”

“you know, you’re the only one who i let call me that, only like it comin’ from your sweet mouth.”

sweetie giggled, “i don’t know why you hate it so much, it’s personally adorable.”

“ ‘m not all about that adorable shit, you know that princess—only when it comes to you.” “only me?” she questioned.

“only and just you, baby.” rafe replied, the flirtatious tone evident in his voice. “anyways, tell me about your day.”

sweetie immediately brightened at the chance to ramble, even though it was late at night, she could talk for days, “well! i went surfing with kie, hm—oh! i baked some cookies! i also got my nails done with sar… i took maple [dog] out for a walk, i need to take her to the beach soon—”

rafe sighed softly, holding the phone closer to his ear.

sweetie heard his sigh, making her frown, “am i talking too much? — i’m sorry!” rafe was quick to reply, “no baby, keep going, i love your voice, continue about maple.”

she blushed on the other end of the phone, her cheeks heating up, “well uhm— maple also actually has found a new liking to watermelon, she absolutely loves it! whenever i find myself having some, she’s always sitting there patiently waiting for some-” sweetie cut herself off, giggling, the image of her dog popping up in her mind.

the pair talked for another half an hour, mainly sweetie, because rafe insisted on her to keep talking, just because he loved her voice so much it soothed him.

“i’ll let you get some sleep now, baby, i’ll pick you up tomorrow around six, sounds good?” rafe spoke.

sweetie was about to nod, before realising rafe can’t see her, “sounds perfect.”

“see you tomorrow darling.”

“goodnight rafey.”

“goodnight angel.”

authors note: my sweethearts 🩷🩷 my first blurb on tumblr 😓 , i hope it’s good, sorry it’s so short, also idk who the divider creds are! they’ve been in my camera roll for ages </3

#⊹ ࣪ ˖ sweetheart maybank¡reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fluff #rafe x reader #blurb #rafe cameron blurb #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey #sweetheart!maybank ‧₊˚. 🧁#works ୧ ‧₊˚ 💌 ⋅

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davinawritings · 7 months ago

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Yandere single dad monster that sees you help one of his children once and decides you will be their new mother.

Warnings: Yandere thought/behavior

Yandere monster takes his twin children to the park so they can run around, expend some of their extra energy, and enjoy the nice weather.

He had been raising his daughter and son on his own since their mother walked out when they were still babies. Having two twin monster toddlers running around was a lot of work, but he loved his children endlessly. He would give them anything in the world and do anything to protect them, even going as far as having tiny tracking devices clipped on to them whenever they leave the house.

He had just been kneeling in front of his son to tie his shoelaces after a long afternoon of playing when he heard his daughter cry out for him. He immediately looks around, frantic, before he finally spots her sitting on the stone pathway and holding her knee.

As he stands and grabs his son in his arms, set to make his way over to his little girl, he watches as a human woman stops and kneels in front of his daughter.

He can’t hear the words you are saying to her, but he relaxes slightly as his daughter's cries quiet down, and she smiles at you. He begins the walk over, keeping his eyes trained on the two of you, his thoughts running wild as his toddler makes her way into your arms.

It’s almost comical watching the human woman struggle slightly to lift a toddler that must be half her size at least, but he can’t help the feeling pooling in his chest as he watches you calm and soothe her.

He can tell you startle slightly as he appears behind you, casting a large shadow over your body. You seem to relax somewhat as you see his son in his arms, seemingly putting together the fact that the little girl you hold must be his.

“I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to impose. I saw her trip, and I just wanted to make sure she was okay,” you say, still slightly nervous about the male, who must be at least three feet taller than you.

He gives you what he hopes is a reassuring and friendly smile as he says, “No need to apologize. I am thankful that you were kind enough to help my daughter. She seems to like you”.

He watches you smile shyly as his daughter hugs you tighter. You rub the girls back affectionately as you say, “Well, I am just glad she is okay and happy I could help. I’ll pass her back over to you. I was actually on my way to meet my boyfriend for dinner.”

He makes sure to mask his disapproval of you having a boyfriend with a smile, gently taking his daughter back from your arms. He reaches out one of his large hands and gently squeezes your arm as he thanks you again. You give his daughter and son a small wave before continuing your walk through the park.

Pulling out his phone, he checks to ensure the tiny tracking device he slipped onto your coat is working, relaxing when he sees the little mark moving through the park. He looks at his two kids, happy he finally found the perfect mother for them.

“Alright, little ones, it’s time to go home. We have a lot of work to do to get the house ready for Mommy to move in.” As he checks your location again, he grins, knowing that you will be his.

His human, his wife, and the mother of his children.

❤️💕🖤🖤💕❤️

Let me know if you guys would like to read more on this! Also if so, do you like me keeping it as a general monster or do you want it to be a specific monster?

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chrattho1 · 4 months ago

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matt sturniolo drabble

10 minutes?

summary: you wear matt’s initial around your neck,and to say that hes turned on by it, is an understatement.

warnings: suggestive comments,use of petnames ( baby )

“hey baby” you walk out of the bathroom into matt’s bedroom, all dressed up. you watch matt shuffle in bed and turn around to look at you with half lidded eyes.

“hey” his voice hoarse and cracky,he rubs his eyes to get a good look at you. your hair falling in your face,nails manicured,rings stacked on your tiny fingers,wrist full of bracelets,chains hanging on your neck-and there it is,dangling off your neck as you bend down to pick something up. a gold pendant with “M” on it.

matt thought he’d seen wrong,his eyes were surely deceiving him right? matt also thought he was the only one obsessed with you so this was amusing to say the least. his eyes open wide to get a good look, his stomach does backflips at the thought of you buying and wearing his initial.

“i am going out with some friends,i’ll be back after lunch” you smiled at him briefly before getting back to filling your bag up with essentials.

“whats that?” matt yanked the blanket off of him and sat up straight,his eyebrows furrowed.

“whats what?” you look at him and notice the confusion on his face,and then he points at it—the gold “M” glistening off your skin,sitting right between your collarbones.

“oh” you gaze down at the pendant,fingers touching the letter lightly.

“i saw this website that sold these so i thought—” you were cut off by matt speeding off the bed,still only on his boxers and almost tripping on something on the way.

you giggle when he stands in front you,eyes now fully open as he looked right down at the pendant in utter awe. his fingertip traces the letter on your neck,gently like he’s afraid it’ll break.

“stands for matt?” words coming out of matt’s mouth before his brain could even process them,eyes so focused on the sight in front.

“ofcourse stupid,what else?” you chuckle.

“you’re gonna wear this out?” his eyes fixated on your neck as you nod at his question.

“fuck” he whispers,a smile tugs on your lips.

“everyones gonna know its for me?” hes asking questions like a child,wanting to hear you answer them with the most dumbfounded look on his face.

“i guess so” you shrug still not fully aware of the effect it has on him. you mindlessly place a hand on his bare chest and your palm is immediately met with his fasten heartbeat. you slowly bring your hand up to caress his cheek,smiling at him foolishly.

“do you like it?” you smile wider looking at his eyelashes flutter up to your face.

“do i like it?” he scoffs lightly,eyebrow raising at your question. he lets out a breath admiring the sight in front,he doesn’t know if this reaction is normal,his boxers feeling tight just looking at you wear his initial.

“think you got 10 minutes or less?” he asks,his voice laced with the severity of his situation,like if you don’t give him those 10 minutes he might die.

you tease him by glancing at your watch and pouting at him,knowing him —it wont take long for him to beg.

“please? just-please-” matt’s fumbled words and that desperate look on his face get to you,and you give in rather easily-pulling him in with a small smile.

“yeah i got 10 minutes” you wrap your arms around his neck pushing your body onto his,his breath hitches.

tai’s notes: tell me how you guys like this and if i should make a chris version too,req are always open;)

taglist: @espressqe @ginswife @sturnsburna @carolina454 @hope2244 @hotgirlbl0gger @violetstxrniolo777 @riggysworld @verycoolmiyah @fadedstvrn @purpledreamertyphoon @mattsplaything @whore4chris @annsx03 @mattsdemi @chrislittleslut @poolover123 @luvvnai @chrissturniolossidehoe @pompomprrin @harmonysturniolo @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @soph-loren @ccsturns @lovesturni0l0s @chriss-slutt @wysmols @sturniolosluttt @mattsdillion @alyssa-sturn @bilssturns @sturnobessed @izzylovesmatt @sturniolosymphony @chrissturnioloswife88 @sxphiee3 @purpledreamertyphoon @whoreforchrissturnniolo @slutformatt17 @realuvrrr @sweetxcheeryx @sturnl0ve @estellesdoll @glitterybtch @courta13 @mattsbitchh @slvtf0rchr1s @trevorsgodmother

#chris sturniolo #tai speaks ☆#christopher sturniolo #chris sturiolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #chris x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris imagine #nick sturniolo #chris smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic

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tojbnuy · 6 months ago

Text

cupcake (1)

mechanic!toji x baker!reader

art by @_jtvll

there was a child grabbing your pant leg. your hands were full to the brim with trays of cupcakes, all freshly iced and ready to be placed into neat rows to serve. you usually hate this part of your job and the small hand stopping you from walking was not helping.

‘hey uhm could you maybe let go?’

you still were unable to look down at the person/thing(?) grabbing a hold of you as the trays in your arms were stacked far too high.

‘right well okay’ and you had to resort to placing the cupcakes on a nearby shelf. upon looking down you saw.. a baby? well a toddler? you didn’t know many kids, with only one niece you would assume this kid was around about her age. 3 maybe 4? he still had a firm grip on the leg of your trouser and was smearing left over icing onto your pants from his sticky fingers.

‘cake.’ he said with pink icing stuck to his lips and chin. the boy was adorable. big sparkly eyes and black hair sticking out in every direction. he was wearing a shirt that said ‘dad’s best friend’ and tiny blue sneakers.

‘you want more cake?’ you replied and he was quick to nod his head vigorously, his hand Still gripped tightly onto you.

‘alright buddy i can give you a cake. but you really shouldn’t be behind here this is staff only. where’s your mum?’

you bent down to his eye level after retrieving a cupcake from your fresh batch and waited for any sort of answer. either he had no clue what anything you said meant or he was too entranced by the cupcake you were wielding in his direction but the boy said nothing, just stared at you with his massive eyes.

‘god now what do i do?’

you were fairly new to this bakery, it was a busy branch with a computer cafe joint on so there was always a large amount of people in store. and now you had to match one of them to this baby.

‘well you eat while i think.’

and the kid watched with a great level of focus as you peeled the wrapper of the cake off and handed him the little treat.

‘what’s your name baby?’

‘megumi’

‘wow that’s a cute name’

he clearly didn’t speak much and resorted to simply staring at you with his cheeks full of cake and even more icing decorating his lips.

you opened your hands to him in a way of saying ‘i’m going to pick you up now’ and when he didn’t seem to object you picked up the tiny boy and placed him on your hip.

‘don’t worry i’ll make sure you get back to your parents.’ again met with radio silence.

‘dada’

‘oh you came with your dada?’

‘dada.’

and only then did you realise the boy was staring out the window at a black haired, clearly frazzled man.

‘megumi? megs buddy please come back now, fucks sake.’ the back door was shoved open and by instinct you clutched the small boy to your chest.

‘megumi oh my fucking- thank god’ and as the man reached for the boy you gently tucked him into your neck. the man immediately frowned and looked you up and down as you did the same. well clearly the boy must be his judging off megumi recognizing him and there was also the fact that they looked exactly the same. except this man was tall and handsome and built like a marble statue. but you still wanted to make sure.

you watched as said man eyed you up and down and for some unknown reason you were incredibly thankful you had worn makeup and washed your hair this morning. your work uniform was bland, a pink half apron and the same baggy jeans and white top you usually wore when you knew you’d be icing cakes instead of serving customers.

‘listen kid, thanks for finding him but i am his dad, look i’ve even got pictures.’

and sure enough he was whipping out his phone and showing you his lockscreen of the boy you were holding in the same shirt with a black puppy in his lap. he then proceeded to open his photos app and show you a few more, some dating a few years back to when megumi was only a newborn.

‘dada’

‘yeah look see i’m his dad’

you believed the man the second you saw his face.

‘right okay i believe you, i don’t even know how he got back here i just turned around and he was grabbing me asking for cake. oh and also im not a kid im 22.’ you felt the need to clarify.

he smiled at that and took his child out of your hands.

‘sorry about that, but i’m glad it was you he bumped into not some creep. i was holding his hand and then i look down and he wasn’t there. the things this boy does when he sees cake’

you laughed and went to pick up your trays again when a large hand grabbed your arm and turned you back.

‘ah wait doll i’ve got to you pay you for the damage this little brats done, and to say thank you.’ he stuffed a few notes into the pocket of your apron.

‘it was just a cupcake it’s no big deal’ you said as you tried to hand them back to him without looking incredibly flustered at the use of a nickname.

‘no i insist, you really saved my ass. you work here often?’

‘yeah i’m usually at the counter but sometimes i just bake and ice the cakes.’

‘well clearly this brat thinks you do a good job’

‘so that means you’ll be back again i’m assuming?’

he smirked at that and your eyes were immediately drawn to the scar decorating his lip. his presence was intimidating, you could feel your cheeks flushing at his intense gaze.

‘yes definitely, i actually own the mechanics down the road so if you ever have any trouble make sure you let me know i’ll do you a nice deal’

‘i’ll keep that in mind uh?’

‘toji’

‘i’ll keep that in mind toji. i’m y/n’

he swapped his son to his other hand and stuck his right hand out for you to shake. you palm felt small in his large veiny one, his skin warm to the touch.

‘pretty name.’ he was checking you out again and you felt so small under his gaze. this was wrong, he was older than you and most likely had a wife or a girlfriend or a long term ex. this was definitely not going to become anything. but that didn’t stop you from giving him a few cupcakes for the road.

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cheftsunoda · 1 month ago

Text

three’s a crowd…until it’s not— ln4 & op81

smau + blurbs

lando norris x !o’ward sister reader x oscar piastri

pato o’ward x !model sister reader

lando and oscar have been secretly dating for months—no one knows, not even their teams. but when you start showing up at more races, everything shifts. what started as playful banter turns into real feelings, and suddenly the two boys who thought they had everything figured out… want you too. now they’re hiding their relationship—and their growing desire to bring you into it.

fc : kat castellano

not proofread

—

ynowardddd

liked by patriciooward, elbaoward, kikagomes & 875,908 others.

ynowardddd : keeping up with the o’wards pt 987543

tagged : elbaoward and patriciooward

—

username5 : who is the fave sibling??

patriciooward : me

ynowardddd : elba would disagree

liked by elbaoward

elbaoward : i am the glue holding this family together

ynowardddd : ok ok I wouldn’t go that far

liked by patriciooward

kikagomes : you are so beautiful

liked by ynowardddd

ynowardddd : says the prettiest girl on the planet <3

oscarpiastri : can I also be adopted into this family

liked by patriciooward and ynowardddd

patriciooward : can you speak spanish

oscarpiastri : hola?

patriciooward : good enough

ynowardddd : aren’t you already a leclerc? @/charles_leclerc come get your son

liked by oscarpiastri

charles_leclerc : i feel betrayed

lando : pretty gal

liked by ynowardddd

patriciooward : thank you lando😍

lando : meant for yn but…you too mate 😁

—

ynowardddd

liked by lando, mclaren, patriciooward & 1,243,807 others.

ynowardddd : wait…this isn’t indycar. thank you @/mclaren for having us and letting me interview your drivers and make them tell me all their secrets! papaya fam for life 🧡

—

patriciooward : still don’t understand how you got media access

liked by ynowardddd

ynowardddd : im just good like that

mclaren : her charisma and chaos got her the part

liked by patriciooward, ynowardddd, lando and oscarpiastri

lando : well deserved tbh

oscarpiastri : can you be the only one to interview me from now on?

liked by ynowardddd

ynowardddd : i will see what i can do;)

liked by oscarpiastri

username00 : this was the first interview ive actually seen oscar show some emotion

username5 : it was crazy to see him smile that much. we need yn for all interviews!!

mclaren : we think we’re gonna keep you yn🧡

liked by ynowardddd

arrowmclaren : um actually she belongs to us

liked by ynowardddd

nolansiegel : and i won’t give her up easily

liked by ynowardddd

ynowardddd : oml my nolannn love uuuu😭❤️

liked by nolansiegel and patriciooward

lando : i feel like i blacked out and just smiled like an idiot the entire time

liked by ynowardddd

ynowardddd : i tend to have that effect on people

elbaoward : jealous 😔

ynowardddd : we literally invited you and you said you were busy

patriciooward : and yn and i spent half the weekend facetiming you anyway

elbaoward : jeez out here getting exposed

kikagomes : so happy i got to see you!! love you 😍

liked by ynowardddd

ynowardddd : love you more

—

snippets from the interview— ‘5 minutes unfiltered w/ the McLaren boys and Papaya Princess, Y/N O’Ward!’

The interview room wasn’t much, just a plain backdrop, two chairs, three if you counted the one they pulled in for her, and a couple of camera guys too jet-lagged to care about anything beyond focus and lighting.

Still, the second YN O’Ward walked in, energy shifted.

Lando looked up from his phone. Oscar straightened in his seat.

She tossed a bright papaya windbreaker over the back of her chair and grinned. “Gentlemen.”

Oscar gave her a small smile. “O’Ward.”

“Wrong one, but I’ll allow it,” she shot back, settling in with her mic. “Okay. You two ready for the most chaotic five minutes of your media day?”

Lando blinked. “Wait, I thought this was the fun segment.”

“It is,” YN said sweetly. “For me.”

The camera light flipped on. She didn’t hesitate.

“Alright. Rapid fire. Who’s the most competitive between the two of you?”

“Oscar,” Lando said, before she finished the question.

“Me,” Oscar echoed a second later.

YN raised an eyebrow. “Wow. A healthy relationship built on lies. Love that.”

Both drivers laughed, the kind that was a little too relaxed for media. Oscar leaned forward, forearms on his thighs, expression open in that quiet, unreadable way of his. “I think the real question is who’s more competitive—you or Pato.”

“Me,” she replied without blinking. “Obviously. Pato cries when he loses Uno.”

Lando let out an actual snort, slouching further in his seat. “You’re joking.”

“This is supposed to be you spilling their secrets. Leave me out of this!” Pato shouted from the other side of the room.

“Wait—can we get her on the sim? I want to see this competitiveness in action.”

YN tilted her head toward Lando. “Are you inviting me to race you or flirt with me disguised as a challenge?”

Oscar’s eyebrows shot up. Lando blinked.

Then grinned. “Both,” he said casually. “Is that not allowed?”

“Nope, not allowed!” Pato shouted again.

She pushed on.

“Okay. Last question— if you had to tell me a secret or lose your qualifying spot, what are you admitting?”

Oscar was first. “You’re terrifyingly good at this.”

“And,” Lando added, after just a beat, “you look really good in papaya.”

The room went still.

YN blinked. “Wow. That was dangerously close to flirting.”

“Dangerously?” Oscar asked, raising a brow.

She leaned back, pen tapping her notepad. “You two planning on fighting about it or…?”

Lando chuckled. “Not unless you ask us to.”

YN glanced at the camera and smirked. “This is absolutely turning into a reality show. I want executive producer credit.”

The light clicked off. Cameras stopped.

But none of them moved.

Oscar cleared his throat. “Do we… actually have five more minutes?”

Lando looked at her. “Because I definitely have more secrets.”

YN smiled—bright, daring, and completely unfazed.

“Then let’s keep rolling.”

—

“She’s dangerous,” Lando said quietly.

Oscar glanced up. “You’re just now realizing that?”

Lando huffed a laugh, rubbing his hand over his jaw. “No. I’ve known. I just thought I was better at handling it.”

Oscar took a sip of water, eyes narrowing slightly. “And now?”

“She asked if I was flirting with her and I agreed, mate.” Lando let his head fall back against the cushion. “On camera.”

Oscar’s lips twitched. “You kind of were.”

“You were too.”

Oscar didn’t deny it. He crossed his arms instead, fingers tightening briefly. “She makes it easy.”

Lando looked at him, really looked at him, the way he only did when they weren’t being watched. “So… what are we doing?”

Oscar didn’t answer immediately.

The silence settled between them, not uncomfortable—just heavy. Real.

“You and I…” Oscar started, voice low. “We’ve always been… whatever this is. Quiet. Safe. Ours.”

Lando nodded once. “Yeah.”

“And then she shows up. And suddenly, we’re laughing harder. Acting dumber. Getting caught feeling things on camera like idiots.”

Lando leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes sharp now. “So what, Oscar? Are we scared it’s not just us anymore?”

Oscar didn’t flinch. “I think we’re scared it could be something bigger. Something real.”

That hung in the air like humidity—thick, undeniable.

Lando’s voice softened. “Do you want her?”

Oscar looked at him. “Do you?”

Lando didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”

Oscar exhaled slowly. “Me too.”

They sat there in silence again. But this time, it was understanding. Alignment.

Then Lando smirked, breaking the weight of it with a tilt of his head. “Think she has any idea what she’s doing to us?”

Oscar gave a small laugh. “She definitely knows. She’s just waiting for us to say it out loud.”

Lando stood up, stretching. “Then we better start figuring out how to say it… together.”

Oscar looked up at him, expression unreadable—but the faint smile gave him away. “Together?”

Lando nodded. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. No secrets. No one left out.”

Oscar stood too, grabbing his phone. “Then we should text her.”

Lando raised a brow. “Now?”

Oscar smiled. “Before we change our minds.”

—

lando

ynnnnnnn

read at 6:56 pm

landooooo

what’s up guys 🐡

read at 7:00 pm

oscar

we want to see you again. soon.

read at 7:05 pm

lando

we can’t stop thinking about you

read at 7:05 pm

you guys have a little break right???

read at 7:10 pm

oscar

yep

read at 7:12 pm

come to pato’s race next week! i can show you around:)

read at 7:15 pm

lando

we will be there:)

read at 7:20 pm

oscar

see you then pretty girl

read at 7:20 pm

—

ynowardddd

liked by lando, patriciooward, elbaoward & 1,583,907 others.

ynowardddd : life update ft proof of pato being a whiny baby during uno

—

patriciooward : DEFAMATION. i have been framed.

liked by ynowardddd

ynowardddd : you were losing AND crying. pick a struggle please

liked by elbaoward

elbaoward : the great uno incident of 2025🥴

liked by patriciooward and ynowardddd

oscarpiastri : that last photo…bold of you to test our curiosity like that

liked by ynowardddd

ynowardddd : like to keep people on the edge of their seat;)

liked by oscarpiastri

username00 : drop the act piastri we know it’s you

username15 : but then that other picture looks like lando

username10 : so confused

lando : happy to be your personal chauffeur for the week

liked by ynowardddd

ynowardddd : thank you lannnnn💋

liked by lando

username15 : BOOOM confirmed

username00 : that other picture is def oscar tho

—

your pov

I didn’t think they’d actually come.

When I texted Lando and Oscar, it was mostly a joke. A cheeky little “come to St. Pete, witness Pato self-destruct over Uno in real time”.

But then they showed up.

Actually showed up. In Florida. For me.

It felt like something shifted the second I saw them in the paddock. Not just because they looked good — which, obviously, they did — but because suddenly the whole place felt different. Like lighter. Louder. Warmer.

Lando walked in with that usual smug grin, sunglasses on, acting like he hadn’t just materialized in my world like a walking distraction. Oscar had this soft smile, quieter but somehow more intense — like he saw everything and was choosing not to say it yet.

And the wildest part? They stuck with me the entire day.

Pato laughed at how quickly they became part of the fold. Elba handed Oscar the leash to our corgi without hesitation. Lando filmed half a TikTok with us before pretending it ruined his reputation. I couldn’t stop laughing. I couldn’t stop looking. And they kept looking back.

Not in the way guys do when they’re being polite. But like… they were memorizing something. Like I was the most interesting thing in the room — in a room full of cameras and engines and chaos.

By the time the race ended and Pato disappeared into debriefs, I found myself sitting with them on the hood of a random golf cart, legs dangling, watching the sky go gold.

“He actually cried during Uno,” Lando said, half in disbelief.

“There were actual tears,” Oscar agreed, handing me his water bottle like it was second nature.

“He flipped the table,” I added, grinning.

They laughed, and for a second, everything was soft.

Then Lando turned toward me, voice lower. “So… dinner?”

I blinked. “What?”

Oscar looked at me too. Not teasing. Not light. Just… real. “Dinner. With us.”

My heart did this dumb thing where it skipped. Tripped. Something. Because they weren’t just asking me to hang out. They were asking. Lando. Oscar. Together.

I didn’t say anything for a beat. The sun was behind them, and my chest felt too warm for how much wind was in the air.

But then I smiled. “Only if I pick the place.”

Oscar nodded once. “Deal.”

Lando’s grin widened. “And we pay.”

Oscar added, “And we finally tell you the rest of the secrets we wouldn’t spill on camera.”

I leaned back on my palms, trying to play it cool, even though everything inside me was spiraling just a little. “Then you better order dessert.”

Neither of them looked away.

—

The ocean’s a few yards away. The restaurant is small, tucked just off the sand with string lights above us and music humming low through old speakers. The plates between us are mostly empty, but none of us seem to notice.

Oscar speaks first. “This feels like the right time to say something, doesn’t it?”

Lando glances at him, then nods. “Yeah.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Okay… what are we saying?”

Oscar’s gaze slides to me. “That we like you.”

The words don’t hit me all at once. They sort of… settle. Softly. Like something I already knew but hadn’t let myself believe.

Lando shifts in his seat, tone lighter but still honest. “Both of us. We’ve been talking about it.”

“And thinking about it,” Oscar adds, his voice lower now. “More than we probably should’ve.”

My heart’s thudding way too fast. “You guys are joking.”

“We’re not,” Lando says, suddenly serious. “We didn’t plan it. It just… happened. And we didn’t want to make things weird, especially not with the three of us. But then you invited us today, and it felt like—”

“—like maybe you felt it too,” Oscar finishes.

I can barely breathe.

I don’t know what I expected from tonight — maybe just more of the same teasing, the same comfortable closeness I’d started craving more than I should. But this? Them sitting here, nervous and real, asking me without really asking?

It’s so much.

And yet, somehow, not overwhelming. Just right.

I look between them. “And what exactly are you asking?”

Lando doesn’t hesitate. “We want to try. The three of us.”

Oscar nods. “Only if you want that too.”

There’s a beat of silence where all I can hear is the clink of silverware and the crash of waves just beyond the wall. The warmth in my chest spreads like something waking up.

And then I smile. It’s small at first, but it grows. “You guys are idiots.”

They both freeze for a second.

“But I like you too,” I say, shrugging a little, cheeks heating. “Both of you. And… yeah. I think I want this.”

Lando grins, that boyish, brilliant thing that makes my heart trip over itself.

Oscar’s smile is softer, but no less warm. “You sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Lando raises his glass. “To us, then.”

Oscar clinks his against it. “All three of us.”

—

The beach is almost empty by the time we wander down from the restaurant — the last scraps of sunlight bleeding into the horizon, waves folding over the sand like they’re in no hurry. None of us say anything for a while. Oscar’s on my right, our arms brushing every so often. Lando’s on my left, hands stuffed into his pockets, eyes on the ocean. We’re not touching, not quite, but the space between us hums like tension stretched thin. I glance at them — at Lando’s smile softened by the dark, at Oscar’s profile lit in gold by the last bit of sky — and for a second, it’s all I can do to keep breathing. Because it’s real now. Not just banter. Not just glances that last too long. Not just something unspoken. They want me. I want them. And somehow, impossibly, they want this — together.

“You know,” Lando says suddenly, voice low, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous around someone before.”

Oscar laughs under his breath. “Same. And we’ve literally crashed cars at 200 mph.”

I smile, toes digging into the cool sand. “Well, I am terrifying.”

Lando looks at me then, something in his eyes shifting — not teasing this time. Just warm. Unfiltered.

“You’re kind of everything,” he says, so quietly I almost miss it.

My breath catches.

Oscar stops walking. When I turn to face him, he’s already looking at me.

“We don’t want to mess this up,” he says. “Not with you. Not with each other. But if you want this — really want this — we’re in. All in.”

The air goes still between us, salt clinging to my skin, wind in my hair.

And then I step forward — just a little — and reach for them.

Oscar’s hand finds mine first, grounding and warm. Lando’s fingers brush my wrist a second later, and suddenly I’m in the space between them, pulled close, tucked into something that feels so safe I could fall into it forever.

Lando presses his forehead to mine, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re sure?”

I nod, heart thudding. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Oscar’s hand curls around my waist, firm but gentle, and when he leans in, his lips brush my temple like a promise.

Then Lando kisses me.

It’s soft. Careful. Like he’s afraid to push too far too fast — like he’s savoring every second. And when he pulls back, Oscar leans in next, just as gentle, just as real. His kiss lingers, steadier, more grounding than I expected. I don’t know how long we stand there — the three of us, caught in this quiet little moment under the darkening sky — but I know I don’t want it to end. Because I’m not just falling for them. I’m already in it.

��

oscarpiastri

liked by ynowardddd, lando, mclaren & 2,279,754 others.

oscarpiastri : Exploring.

—

username5 : exploring whom, mr piastri?🤔

mclaren : oooo soft launch??

username15 : admin what do you know??🔪

mclaren : 🤐

ynowardddd : adorbs

liked by oscarpiastri

lando : s’cute

liked by oscarpiastri

username15 : ^^^???

—

lando

liked by ynowardddd, oscarpiastri, patriciooward & 2,289,974 others.

lando : off the grid

—

ynowardddd : wow both of you in your soft launch era I can’t keep up

liked by lando and oscarpiastri

lando : like to keep people on the edge of their seats;)

oscarpiastri : just had to steal my spotlight huh?

liked by lando

lando : I could never osco

liked by oscarpiastri

username5 : WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?

username10 : are they hard launching the same girl??? they look so similar

username15 : I am still so confused

carlossainz55 : cheeky

liked by lando

—

ynowardddd

liked by patriciooward, elbaoward, lando & 2,457,887 others.

ynowardddd : had the three most handsome dates to the gala 🧡

—

mclaren : our faves🧡🧡

liked by ynowardddd

arrowmclaren : soooo cute!!

liked by ynowardddd

username00 : they were both just soft launching but went to the gala with yn and pato?

username15 : what if they are with yn?

username10 : throuple??

lando : who is the most handsome though? (me)

patriciooward : don’t start. it’s clearly me.

ynowardddd : already arguing like true brothers

patriciooward : 🤮

oscarpiastri : whoever helped you pick out that dress deserves a kiss

liked by ynowardddd

ynowardddd : gave him plenty

—

The gala is very McLaren — sleek, minimal, orange everywhere, with a million little details that make the night feel expensive. I’m in a dress Oscar helped me pick and Lando has already spun me around twice, just to be “obnoxiously proud” of how good we all clean up. Pato arrives fashionably late, naturally. I spot him across the room in a sharp black suit, talking to someone from Arrow, probably cracking a joke about how he nearly flipped a simulator during testing. I excuse myself from Lando and Oscar and make my way toward him, heels clicking softly across the floor.

“Don’t look so serious,” I say, nudging him lightly in the ribs.

He lights up the second he sees me. “Mira nomás, if it isn’t Miss McLaren herself.”

I roll my eyes. “Stop.”

He glances around. “Where are your boyfriends?”

It takes me a second too long to answer. He blinks.

“Wait—what? That pause was suspicious.”

I chew the inside of my cheek and sigh. “Okay, so… don’t make a scene.”

His eyebrows lift. “That’s not reassuring.”

Before I can say anything else, Lando and Oscar appear on either side of me — perfectly timed, like they planned the entrance. Oscar offers a small wave, cool and quiet. Lando, of course, grins like he’s having the time of his life.

Pato looks between us.

Then back at me.

Then at them again.

“…Are you joking?”

I shake my head slowly.

Lando rubs the back of his neck, a rare flicker of nervousness crossing his face. “We were gonna tell you sooner. Just… wasn’t sure how.”

Oscar adds, “We didn’t want it to be weird.”

“It’s not weird,” I say quickly, then glance at Pato. “Right?”

Pato stares at us for a moment — one beat, two — then lets out the most dramatic sigh I’ve ever heard.

“Oh, come on,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “It couldn’t have been just one of you dating her? It had to be both?”

Lando chokes on a laugh. Oscar smiles against the rim of his champagne glass. I feel my chest loosen a little.

Pato narrows his eyes at them, mock serious. “You’re telling me I have to approve two men now instead of one? Double the background checks? Double the overprotective speeches?”

“You were gonna give a speech?” I grin.

“Obviously,” he deadpans. “I had a whole monologue prepared.”

Lando throws an arm around Pato’s shoulder. “Admit it, you love us.”

Pato groans. “I tolerate you. For her.”

Oscar just raises his glass slightly, amused. “We’re very grateful.”

Pato points at him. “Don’t be smug, Piastri. I still know where you live.”

But then he looks at me again, and all the teasing slips away just enough to let something warmer through.

“You’re happy?”

I nod, smile soft. “Yeah. I really am.”

He stares at me for a second, then gives a small shrug. “Then that’s all that matters.”

He pauses. “But if either of you so much as make her cry—”

“We won’t,” Lando says quickly.

Oscar just nods again, more serious this time. “We mean that.”

Pato takes a deep breath, shakes his head like he still can’t believe it, then raises his glass.

“To the chaos trio,” he mutters. “And to YN, for somehow managing to date both of McLaren’s emotionally constipated golden boys.”

I burst out laughing. Lando gasps. Oscar gives a small, guilty shrug.

And just like that, everything feels settled.

—

oscarpiastri

liked by lando, ynowardddd, patriciooward & 2,345,908 others.

oscarpiastri : all mine…both of them :)

—

lando : oh I didn’t know we were doing this today. LOVE YOU BOTH SO MUCH!!!!

liked by oscarpiastri and ynowardddd

ynowardddd : we love you moreeeeee

liked by lando and oscarpiastri

ynowardddd : my oscahhhh ur so cute

liked by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri : you are the cutest ever

liked by ynowardddd

nicolepiastri : no call oscar? no introduction? i knew you and lando would end up together but id love to meet this beautiful lady as well

liked by lando, oscarpiastri and ynowardddd

oscarpiastri : soon mum i promise

mclaren : YAYYYYYY!!!!!!

hattiepiastri : how did you both get someone as pretty as her????

liked by ynowardddd, patriciooward, lando and oscarpiastri

—

ynowardddd

liked by lando, elbaoward, oscarpiastri & 2,798,054 others.

ynowardddd : being the papaya princess wasn’t enough…i had to make both mclaren boys mine

—

elbaoward : more brothers??? sigh

elbaoward : but so happy you’re happy mi hermana

liked by ynowardddd, lando, oscarpiastri and patriciooward

lando : you know you love us elbaaaaaa

liked by elbaoward

lando : the prettiest princess in the world

liked by ynowardddd and patriciooward

georgerussell63 : collected the mclaren boys like infinity stones…i respect it

liked by ynowardddd

username00 : i know zak brown is somewhere giggling and kicking his feet rn

patriciooward : he is

patriciooward : when I used to joke and call them your boyfriends I didn’t expect you to make it literal

liked by ynowardddd, lando and oscarpiastri

ynowardddd : my bad

—

lando

liked by oscarpiastri, ynowardddd, patriciooward & 4,787,054 others.

lando : landoscar + their wag

—

oscarpiastri : remind me to approve your captions next time

liked by lando, patriciooward and ynowardddd

elbaoward : disgustingly cute

liked by lando, oscarpiastri & ynowardddd

patriciooward : wag? she is basically running the whole company rn

liked by lando, oscarpiastri and ynowardddd

zakbrownceo : if this ends in a constructors championship you will be my favorite, yn.

liked by lando, oscarpiastri, ynowardddd and patriciooward

patriciooward : she is already your favorite

zakbrownceo : oh yeah oops

—

🌱🐢🐞🌍🌳🌛☄️🍂🍄

665 notes · View notes

jobean12-blog · 9 days ago

Text

Mr. Right

Pairing: Harry Castillo (Materialists) x female reader

Word Count: 5.4K

Summary: You meet Harry at your friends wedding and you're sure he's just like every other rich guy...until he isn't.

Author's Note: So, I have NOT seen the movie yet so there are NO spoilers here. This is just my version of Harry based off of the little things I've seen in the trailer and what not. It has nothing to do with the movie and everything to do with how incredibly amazing and perfect he looks and all that! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: he's charming, kinda cocky, swoon worthy and attentive-also gorgeous-lots of flirting and tension, fun banter, and the smutty smut- oral (f rec), p in v (wrap it up) and softness and fluff

PS I had a super fun time with all these gifs! Thank you bunches creators! You're all gems! Dakota being in two of them is only because they fit well and I wanted Pedro- there's no mention of reader's appearance at all or any mention of likeness to the actress

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

“You know it’s impolite to stare.”

His eyes warm, crinkling at the corners as his mouth tips up slightly.

“I’m admiring something beautiful. How can I not stare?”

Your light laugh, half scoff, is met with a wider smile, and for a moment you forget that you’ve given up on men…especially men like the one standing in front of you.

“I’ll admit. You’re smooth. But I’m not interested.”

“You haven’t even met me yet,” he croons.

With a sigh you hold out your hand and introduce yourself and much to your surprise he takes it, lifting it slowly toward his mouth, his eyes still focused on yours, the dark chocolate color glowing bright just over the crest of your knuckles as he brings them to his lips and brushes them lightly across with a whisper of his name.

Your breath catches for a second before you steal yourself and pull your hand away. He gives you a knowing look.

“Are you here alone?” you ask him.

“I wouldn’t be talking to you if I weren’t,” he answers.

“So, you’re not the cheating type?” you shoot back, eyebrows up over the rim of your champagne flute as you take a sip.

“Not my style,” he smiles.

“Hmm. Well, it was nice meeting you Harry.”

Before he can reply you turn on your heels and walk off toward your designated table, feeling his eyes on you but not looking back.

After finishing your meal you’re still seated and chatting with the couple next to you when you see their eyes widen at something behind you. A rush of air greets you before the warm scent of expensive cologne fills your senses and Harry takes a seat next to you.

“You’re not seated at this table,” you tell him as his hand slides over the back of your chair.

“I am now,” he says and motions for the waiter to bring you more champagne.

You wait for the waiter to finish pouring and walk off. “Getting me drunk won’t get you anywhere.”

“I have no intention of getting you drunk. This is only your second glass. I’m just being attentive.”

Your eyes narrow at the accurateness of his comment but you take a long sip of the bubbly drink.

“Let me guess. You’re rich. You have a penthouse apartment you know I’ll just love, and you can’t wait to wine and dine me all over the city.”

You finish with a roll of your eyes as you place the drink down and turn toward him.

“You forgot one thing,” he murmurs.

Before he can say more your finger shoots up and presses lightly against his lips. “And incredibly handsome.”

“I was going to say…romantic. But I’ll take incredibly handsome any day.”

You crack a smile and dip your head slightly, doing your best to be unaffected by his charm but when his warm fingertips gently press under your chin and lift your eyes to his you find your breath caught in your throat once again.

“What makes you any different than the other rich guys I’ve dated?”

“Everything,” he says.

“I’ve heard that before,” you sigh. “Listen, I’m sure you’re great but I’m not interested, and it looks like it’s time for me to check on the bride. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

You stand, inwardly mourning the loss of his touch, and head toward the dais where the bride, your friend, and groom sit with their heads close and smiles on their faces.

The night air is cool against your bare skin and the city is alive below you as you lean on the wrought iron railing looking over the roof top area of the venue. Your third, and last, glass of champagne dangles between your fingers as your mind wanders with a fortifying breath you let out slowly.

A jolt of surprise shoots through you when you register a familiar scent you can’t quiet place.

Harry, arms crossed, leans against the railing a few feet away. Staring again.

He looks so good, and it annoys the shit out of you.

Instead of looking away you hold his gaze and saunter toward him.

“You really can’t take a hint, can you?”

He shrugs with a smirk before his eyes wander along the curve of your shoulder and the goosebumps that erupt across the bare skin. Without asking he takes off his tux jacket and drapes it over you.

Immediately, his scent envelopes you and you can feel your eyelashes lowering with your inhale. If he notices he doesn’t make it known and instead finally responds to your earlier question.

“You obviously realize I’m well off and that’s because I worked hard for it.” He pauses, stepping closer. “When I want something. I get it.”

Your eyes widen a little and you turn away to gaze out at the city.

“Thanks for your jacket,” you whisper.

“As much as I hate to cover you up I hate that you’re cold more.”

“Not pulling any punches either,” you laugh. “I have to admit I admire that. I don’t really deal with bullshit well.”

You angle your body toward his and watch his eyes fall to your lips.

“Neither do I,” he says and steps closer as he runs his hand along the railing, letting his fingertips softly brush yours.

You wet your lips, and you see his grip tighten on the iron.

“You’re making it very difficult for me to remain gentlemanly around you.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip and his eyes darken.

“Well, if you’re not up for being a gentleman, maybe I shouldn’t be up here alone with you.”

Despite your words, your voice is slightly breathless.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”

Draining the rest of your champagne you hold his gaze. “I like it up here.”

His fingers move forward, sliding over your hand and along your arm. This time you can do nothing to stop your audible gasp at his touch.

“I warned you that I’m having a difficult time being a gentleman. Are you trying to get me into trouble?”

You lean into him. “Is that what I’m doing?”

His thumb reaches up, tentatively, but when you don’t pull away he rubs the pad across your bottom lip and pulls it free of your teeth, pleased with your sharp inhale.

“Let me be clear, sweetheart, since I know that you don’t want any bullshit from me. I want you…and like I said. I get what I want.”

Your eyes widen with each declaration and your mouth falls open, but nothing comes out.

“I just wanted to be up front. Have a wonderful night.” He closes his fingers around yours, lifting your hand to his lips and kissing it softly. “I’ll see you at the brunch tomorrow.”

By the time you catch your breath and remember you still have his jacket draped over your shoulders he’s disappeared into the crowded room of the wedding.

“Shit,” you mutter, fanning your face.

You end up getting to bed late, staying as long as the bride needs you, and when you wake just half an hour before the designated brunch time you do your best to get ready in a flurry of rushed curses.

“Sorry I wasn’t here earlier,” you huff as you stride downstairs into the brunch room. “Didn’t realize I was so tired.”

Your friend, still glowing with post wedded bliss, smiles and hugs you, brushing it off easily.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she says sweetly. “You’re lucky Matt and I made it out of bed at all this morning.”

She giggles and you join in, sincerely happy for her.

“Grab a seat and we’ll refuel!” she says. “Looks like there’s one left next to Harry.”

Your eyes scan the long table, and you see Harry sitting near the head with one empty seat to his left, his arm already draped casually across the back. His eyes bore into you, making you feel naked where you stand.

A slow roll of heat eases its way through you and goosebumps break out along your arms. Giving yourself a mental shake, you release his unwavering stare to move lower. Seeing him in a tuxedo seemed too hard to top but his casual yet sexy dark sweater and jeans make him look even more appealing.

You square your shoulders and walk toward him, refusing to let him rattle you any further. Of all the men who had attempted to pick you up over the years, never did one make it so deep beneath your skin.

But you would never tell him that.

“I have your jacket. I’ll get it from my room after brunch.”

Keeping his gaze locked on you, he stands and pulls out your chair, waiting for you to sit before he does again.

“And hello to you to,” he says with a chuckle.

You smile and sit.

“Back to being a gentleman?” you ask with a small smile playing upon your lips.

“For now,” he says and pours you some water.

His attention never leaves you and his constant regard has your skin burning beneath your dress. Heaviness settles between your legs, and you find it hard to concentrate on the lively conversations around you.

In retaliation for the discomfort he’s putting you through, you do some light flirting with one of the cute wait staff and lean over a little too close when you reach for something across the table, letting the peek of cleavage speak for itself.

Finally, the brunch comes to an end and not a moment too soon. You feel ready to expire under his hot scrutiny, but you’ll get no reprieve as he follows you toward the elevator.

The mirrored doors open and you shoot him a look when he walks inside behind you.

“My jacket,” he says.

You press the button for your floor.

“Right.”

He stands close enough that you can smell him and you subtly inhale.

“You’re going to have to work for it.”

You say the words with resolve and keep your eyes forward, but you can see his small smile in the mirror on the wall across from you.

“I’m willing to do whatever you want sweetheart.”

The doors open and you walk out in front of him, taking the steps to the door of your room and pulling out the key. Suddenly, it’s snatched from your hand. You spin in time to see him slip it into the back pocket of his jeans.

You balk at his audacity.

“What are you doing?”

“You can have it back in a minute.”

His gravelly tone calls several other things into focus; there’s a slight blush to his cheekbones and his breathing is roughened; his entire body seems tense with restraint as his eyes do a slow perusal of you from head to toe. Your back arches against the door, an unconscious move that draws his gaze to your chest.

You swallow as he takes a step closer.

“I told you…you need to work for it.”

He leans down, his big hands coming to rest on either side of your head along the door, mouth stopping mere centimeters from yours.

“And I promise you I will,” he murmurs.

His lips brush the shell of your ear and the contact of his mouth on your skin sends a tremble down your spine. He reacts with a sharp inhale, his nose brushing along your cheek as his lips move toward yours.

He lingers and then inhales before he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth.

When he pulls away he groans and reaches for his back pocket, pulling out both your room key and a piece of paper.

“Call me.”

After you watch him walk away and disappear around the corner toward the elevator you let out a shaky breath and look down at his name and number scrawled across the paper.

You stare at the files on your laptop screen, smoothing your fingers over the crumpled piece of paper on your desk.

“Fuck it,” you mutter.

Grabbing your cell, you take the stairs and walk out of the building, starting your lunch break early as you dial his number and press the phone to your ear.

“I was wondering when you were going to call me.”

“Hi Harry.”

“Hi sweetheart.”

“What made you so sure I was going to call?”

You can hear his huff of laughter on the other end and practically see his victorious smirk.

“When can I take you out?”

“Wow, wasting no time.”

“Why should I waste time when I can be spending it with you?”

Now it’s your turn to smile.

“Saturday?”

“I’ll pick you up at seven. Text me your address.”

When he said, “I’ll pick you up at seven,” you assumed you’d get a text, and he would be outside your building waiting by the car. Instead, you get a phone call…

“Can you tell your door man to let me in please?”

“Let you in?!? I didn’t know you were coming up!”

He chuckles lightly on the other end but other than that waits patiently and quietly for you to speak up. You sigh dramatically and then buzz down to the door attendant.

“Thanks sweetheart. Be right there.”

He hangs up. You let out a squeal and start dashing around your apartment, throwing things under pillows and stuffing things in cabinets. You have just enough time to check yourself in the mirror before you hear a light knock on your door.

With a deep breath and a raise of your chin you open it.

All you see is red. Dozens of red roses. And not just roses…the most perfect roses you’ve ever seen. His brown eyes appear as he lowers the bouquet, slowly drifting down your body until he’s had his fill of you from head to toe.

“Wow. You look stunning.”

You’re still speechless. The roses are one thing but then there’s him. He’s leaning against your doorframe, long legs crossed and the hand not holding the bouquet tucked into the pocket of his perfectly pressed pants. The buttons of his dress shirt are open at the top, offering up a triangle of smooth, tan skin. The collar frames his long neck, the tempting hint of his collarbone peeking out just enough to make you wonder what it would be like to kiss him just there.

Before you can enjoy the rest of him he steps forward and wraps his arm around your waist, somehow managing to keep the roses at bay while he presses you against him and softly kisses your cheek.

When he pulls away your eyelashes are still fluttering. “Hi,” you breathe out.

You take the roses and set them carefully on your small kitchen table, admiring their magnificence one last time before turning to him.

“I’m ready,” you tell him, and he reaches out his hand.

You look at his outstretched fingers and slowly extend your own, letting the warmth and strength of his hand close around yours as he leads you out the door.

Dinner is, of course, exceptional, the restaurant elegant and refined and offering you privacy while also making you feel tended to.

“I’m surprised we didn’t get dessert!” you say as he leads you out into the cool night with his hand splayed at your lower back.

He leans forward, lips brushing your ear, and whispers, “I have a special place I want to take you for dessert.”

You turn your head, putting your lips a breath away from his. “Ok.”

His smile crinkles his eyes as they drop to your lips. A taxi blares it’s horn and startles you and after clearing your throat you let him take your hand again.

“So,” he says before licking the fork clean. “What do you think.”

“How did you know I loved chocolate so much?” you ask as you go in for another bite of the decadent lava cake.

“I told you…I pay attention.”

You don’t get more than that from him and you try to think back to the wedding and if there were any indication of your dessert preferences that he could have picked up on. While lost in your musings he leans over the table and lightly brushes his thumb over the corner of your mouth.

Your breath catches in your throat, and he smiles, his eyes steady on yours while he brings his thumb to his lips and licks it clean.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

You want to answer with words but all you can do is nod before taking another bite.

“I’m not inviting you in,” you state as he follows you into the elevator.

“Of course not,” he answers, placing his body flush with yours as you lean against the mirrored walls.

When you reach your door you’re suddenly hit with the rush of memory from the last time he had you cornered at the door of your hotel room. Your skin heats and you fumble with your keys.

The first thing you feel is the strength of his hand around your bicep as he slowly turns you to face him. You realize there’s nowhere to go and once again you find yourself pressed to the door, his body almost touching yours.

His eyes search your face as his other hand smooths along your arm, fingers tracing the curve of your shoulder until they wrap around the nape of your neck to drag you closer. Your keys fall to the floor and your lips part.

He wastes no time in covering your mouth with his, and you cling to him; the smell of him, the feel of his hands holding you to him, and you make a throaty sound you can’t control. His hand at your neck tightens and he groans, the sound of it skimming down your body.

The kiss grows deeper, more demanding, and long enough to steal your breath. Your nails dig into his broad shoulders, and you moan into his mouth again, unable to stop it as his fingertips graze the bare skin at your lower back.

Your back arches and you line your body up with his, letting your hands move higher into his hair to finger his curls.

He breaks the kiss, pulling back only an inch to look into your eyes. His own are darker than usual, his lashes lowered as he traces his lips with his tongue. His hand settles at the curve of your waist, and he rests his forehead to yours.

“Harry?” you whisper.

His eyes open and he lifts his head, gently letting you go with a slightly pained expression.

“Not coming in…remember?” he murmurs, his smile wry.

He still looks like he wants to kiss you again and again and again but somehow keeps his distance.

“Right,” you say, breathlessly.

His eyes wash over you and he lets out a slow exhale.

“Fuck,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “Get your door unlocked so I can see you in safely.”

You nod, bending slowly to get your keys and hoping your knees don’t give out.

“I want to see you again. Before next weekend.”

“Ok,” you manage with a smile, willing your trembling fingers to get the key in the door.

Once it’s open and you’re halfway in he gives you a sexy smile and says, “lock up and I’ll call you tomorrow.”

When he said he wanted to see you before the weekend you hadn’t expected the daily texts and phone calls and definitely didn’t expect him to show up at your job on Wednesday, and precisely in time for your lunch break too.

“I could have been busy,” you say before a real greeting when you walk down into the lobby of your building.

“Yet you’re here to see me anyway,” he croons, as he slips an arm around your waist and pulls you in for a chaste kiss.

It still leaves you breathless and wanting, no needing, more.

“I brought us some lunch.”

He holds up a large take-out bag and offers you his hand. You raise a questioning brow but take it and let him walk you out the doors toward the small park across the street from your building.

“How did you know what I would have liked?” you ask as you open up the takeout container.

“You forget we were at the same wedding and share some of the same friends. I asked around…like I’ve said before…I’m not afraid to work for it.”

You smile around your bite of food. “Maybe someday it’ll pay off.”

“That’s the plan.”

He winks and you’re thankful you’ve already swallowed the bite because the simple gesture is so explicitly sexy that you almost gasp.

“Why don’t you come to my place this weekend?” he suggests as he walks you back to work. “We can watch a movie or something.”

“What? Already skimping on the fancy dining?” you tease.

“We can still do fancy at home,” he says.

He holds the door open and waits for you to go inside, following you to the elevators.

“I can make it from here.”

He frowns.

“I don’t want the whole office in an uproar because I brought the most eligible bachelor around.”

His lips tilt upward but he still doesn’t look satisfied. He wraps his fingers around your arm and hauls you into a small alcove beside the elevators, partially shielding you from view.

“So then, Saturday?”

“I’ll think about it.”

He steps closer. “What can I do to convince you?”

You swallow and lean away from him, your back hitting the wall but even with the small added distance your eyes drop to his lips just in time to see them tilt upwards.

His hand lifts to your cheek, fingers spreading along your skin as he cups your face and brings your mouth to his. It’s a soft kiss at first but when you press yourself against him he takes you in his arms and hauls you impossibly closer, parting your lips and kissing you in a way that is far too inappropriate for the workspace.

“Harry,” you whisper when you come up for air. “You play dirty.”

He smirks, kissing you one last time before he steps back and says, “I’ll see you Saturday sweetheart.”

Naturally, he sends a car to pick you up but to your surprise once again, he’s the one driving it.

“You look surprised to see me,” he says with a laugh as you bend at the window to greet him.

“Just wasn’t expecting you. I figured you’d send your driver or something.”

“Couldn’t wait to see you,” he says as he gets out and winds around the car to get the door for you.

Before he opens it he pulls a bouquet of lilies from behind his back and pushes you against the cool metal to kiss you hello.

“You have to stop doing that,” you whisper against his lips.

“Stop kissing you? Impossible.”

“No! Not that,” you quickly say. “It’s just all the…,” and you motion to him and the flowers and then sigh. “All the romantic, gentlemanly stuff.”

“You want me to stop…”

You press a finger to his lips, feeling them curve upwards. “Let’s go.”

He clamps his mouth shut but not before kissing your finger and holding the door open.

“I was going to buckle you in but…”

“Just get in and drive,” you tell him.

By the time you reach the top floor of his building, and the double doors open to his penthouse apartment your palms are sweaty, and your clothes feel too tight.

His hand has never left your lower back and once he shuts the door behind you he grabs your hand and spins you into his chest.

You find yourself pressed against every inch of him and you quickly breathe out, “I’m not sleeping with you.”

“I thought we were going to have some dinner and watch a movie?”

He smiles that devious smile as his hands travel up the curve of your spine.

“What did you order?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I cooked.”

You nearly swoon.

“You…cook too.”

“Might not be five star but I’m sure you’ll like it.”

His lips keep inching closer with every word he speaks, and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to stay standing.

“Ok,” you whisper, letting out a rush of air when he sweeps you away and toward the kitchen.

“This is really good. I’m impressed,” you tell him as you finish off your last bite.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it beautiful. Now, how about some ice cream on the couch with a movie?”

“Really? Like ice cream from the grocery store…on your expensive leather couch?”

“Yeah,” he answers. “I already told you. I’m not like the other rich and perfect guys you’ve dated.” He uses air quotes when he says the words, ‘rich,’ and ‘perfect.’

“You’re right. You’re not. You’re actually perfect. And it’s freaking me out.”

He stops at the freezer, carton of ice cream in his hand and his expression soft. “And why can’t you have perfect?”

You can’t find an answer to give him and the longer you hold his stare the more obvious it becomes that you’re falling for him, and you want him to be your ‘Mr. Perfect.’

Slowly you stand and move around the kitchen island. You take the spoon and ice cream from his hand and grab a scoop, holding it up to his lips. He parts them, sucking some of the ice cream off the spoon and keeping his eyes on yours. Your gaze drops to his lips as you pull the spoon free and finish off the last of the bite.

He licks his lips, and you track the movement.

“Harry,” you whisper just before his mouth crashes down to yours.

He backs you up until you sit on the counter, placing his hips between your spread legs and running his hands up your calves. You moan against his mouth and rub yourself along the hardness pressed between your legs.

His hands wander, skimming the edge of your shirt until they slip beneath and his fingertips are tracing the edge of lace that covers the swell of your breasts. He slides the same hand to your back and the other under your ass, lifting you off the counter and carrying you down the hall.

You land on his bed, king sized and covered in silky sheets. Everything in the moment feels luxurious but you have no time to relish it because you’re entire focus is on him; his taste, the way his weight feels over your body, the way his hands make you dissolve under every touch.

He’s slow to remove your clothes, making you feel like you’re something special to reveal, and as his eyes rake across your skin you can see his own impatience; shirt thrown across the bed, fingers tugging at his belt, his lips constantly searching for yours.

He kneels between your thighs, spreading you, kissing you through the fabric of your panties. He nibbles and tugs, sucking and licking impatiently before he slides the last remaining fabric of clothing down your legs.

You gasp when he buries his face between your legs, covering your sensitive skin in a long, slow lick. He kisses your clit then the inside of your thigh.

“Tell me what you need,” he says, his voice raspy as he continues to tease you.

“Make me come with your mouth.”

The words barely get out before you fall back against the mattress and your legs spread wider. His large palms are firmly planted on your inner thighs to keep your legs open; his sounds of desire pressed against you as he grows more wild. He kisses and sucks and licks with such uninhibited hunger that you start to feel the tight pull, the edge of something that grows with every breath.

You thread your hands into his hair and rock up into him. He groans, mouth eager as his fingers dance higher and he slowly pushes one inside you. He works his hand just as good as his mouth and when he adds a second finger you can feel the rush of heat build and spread out, racing through your limbs and between your legs.

You’re gasping, hoarse and senseless, offering no words, just soft sounds. You fall back onto his pillow, surrounded by his scent, and look up at him. From the light of the city coming through the floor to ceiling windows you can see how wet his mouth is.

He wipes his forearm across his face and falls over you, kissing you before he moves his mouth to your breast, his palm spreading across the other as his tongue begins to move in small, pressing circles.

“Can I have you?” he asks quietly, kisses slowing until it’s just the slide of his lips over yours.

“Yes,” you answer, bending your knees at his sides and letting him settle snuggly between them.

You want to capture the way his arm shakes with urgency as it holds him above you, but his other hand moves with a torturous rhythm along your body, each fingertip feeling every inch of your skin.

When you start to squirm under him he places a hand by your head and uses the other to guide himself into you. He watches your face as he slowly pushes in and the moment you feel the heavy press of him; you’ve never felt so impatient in your life.

“I am enough for you yet?” he asks, moving barely in, and back out again.

You wet your lips and nod, unable to find words, and he groans in frustration and pleasure as he slowly pushes inside. You lose your breath, lose your ability to breath or even care that you need to, and pull your legs up high, wanting him, no needing him, deeper.

He’s heavy, thick, and so hard that when his hips meet your thighs you hover on the edge of discomfort. He braces both arms on the side of your head he starts to move, the slow, solid drag builds an ache so good it’s enough to make you feel unhinged.

He’s giving you a gentle warm-up, his eyes on yours as he pulls slowly out, even more slowly pushes back in, occasionally dipping down to find your lips. But when you take his bottom one between your teeth and bite gently, he gasps, jerking forward sharp and unexpected, and it unleashes something in him.

He starts to move hard and smooth with perfect thrusts and you can hear his grunting breaths and your own sharp exhales. The pleasure climbs up your legs like vines, the heat curling higher until you feel it in your face. He grabs your hips and starts to move faster and harder and his eyes move over your parting lips and the way your breasts move, and you open your mouth to tell him he’s perfect and nothing comes out but a cry for “more.”

Warmth rushes through your body before you fall-in more ways than one- and he sees it happen. He watches, mouth parting in relief, eyes blazing with victory. You’re pure desperation beneath him, begging, biting his shoulder, spreading your legs as wide as they’ll go.

It unhinges him and you hear the lavish headboard bang into the wall above you.

“It’s too good,” he says against your lips. “So good.”

He pulses inside you, staying as deep as he can as you run your hands down his back and let him ride out his orgasm. With a satisfied groan he collapses beside you on the bed and curls around you, pulling your back flush to his chest.

He kisses the back of your neck and then the curve of your shoulder as he slides his hand over yours and grasps your fingers.

“Please stay with me,” he murmurs.

You snuggle yourself into his embrace and tighten your fingers around his, whispering, “I’ll stay.”

#pedro pascal #materialists #pedro pascal characters #harry castillo #harry castillo x reader #harry castillo x you #harry castillo fanfiction #harry castillo smut #harry castillo fic #harry castillo x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #harry castillo x y/n

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heart-of-the-morningstar · 1 year ago

Text

✨Sensitivity✨

I am an absolute SLUT for Luci’s wings so I wanted to write something with them :), huge thank you to @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis for the help 💖

Also I’m legit on a cruise ship rn, but @amberlouise473 knows I gotta feed y’all like I’m tossing corn to my chickens 🤣

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: You’re super curious about Lucifer’s wings, but neither of you knew how sensitive they were. You didn’t know how sensitive you could be either…

Warnings: 18+, smut, dry humping, ruined clothes, pet names, oral (f receiving), face riding, over stimulation, multiple orgasms

It was time for bed and Lucifer was still working. You knew he worked late sometimes but this seemed a little later than usual. You decided to take a look to see if he was still in his office. Sure enough, you saw him sitting down at his desk when you entered the room. But when you looked closer, you saw that he’d fallen asleep at his desk, his head resting in his arms. He looked so peaceful lying there, you almost didn’t want to disturb him. But you knew he’d feel a lot better if he actually slept in your bed instead of hunched over his desk. Quietly, you walked towards him trying not to make any loud noises that might startle him. You placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking it lightly.

“Luci?,” you whispered, “Luci, it’s time for bed, wake up sleepy head.” He moaned quietly, but your shaking didn’t seem to have done the trick. You shook his shoulder a little hard. “Luci, c’mon hon.” Nothing. You took your other hand and placed it on his other shoulder, shaking him even more. “Lucifer!,” you nearly screamed!

With that, Lucifer’s eyes shot open, pushing himself off the desk. “AAHHH!!! WHAT?!?! What’s going on?!,” he yelled. You never saw him so frazzled before, it was kind of cute. But what you really didn’t expect was to see Lucifer’s wings spring out from his back. It must have been an involuntary reaction from the shock of being woken up so suddenly. His eyes found yours and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, it’s you, darling,” he breathed. “You really scared me there! I guess I must have fallen asleep, forgive me.” You were only half listening to him at this moment, your gaze was still fixed on his angelic wings. You’d only seen them once or twice before, but never for long. It was then that Lucifer turned his head and noticed what had caught your attention. “Oh! Sorry about that, it’s a defense mechanism, as silly as that sounds. I’ll put them away-”

“No, wait!”, you shouted louder than you meant to. Lucifer cocked an eyebrow at you, not understanding why you had stopped him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just…I never get to see your wings. They’re really beautiful.”

A light blush dashed across his face, he gave you a shy smile. “O-oh, thank you! I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me.”

“That’s a shame,” you pouted, “I think they’re incredible.” You walked closer to him to get a better look at them. Their white and red coloring were breathtaking. Their length took up almost the entirety of the room you were in, and his office was not small in the least. A tiny part of you wondered if he always had red feathers, or if they had changed after he…

Perhaps that was a question for another time.

“Are they heavy?,” you inquired.

“Oh! Umm, I don’t think so,” Lucifer pondered. “I don’t really notice if they are. I might have gotten used to them over the last 10,000 or so years.”

“Can I…touch them?,” you asked shyly, averting Lucifer’s gaze.

He smiled. “Of course, love. Let’s go back to our room, shall we?”

Lucifer’s wings disappeared for now as he gently grabbed your hand and led you out of his office. Once you reached your bedroom, he unfastened his shirt and threw it off to the side. It made you blush, even though his bare chest was not a new sight to you. Lucifer noticed your reddened face and smirked.

“It’s a little easier this way, don’t you think?,” he chuckled. He walked over to the bed and sat down, crossing his legs in the process. He tapped his thigh, offering you a seat in his lap. You smiled and wrapped your legs around his torso, straddling him. “You ready?,” he asked with a little smile. You nodded your head eagerly. In an instant, his three sets wings appeared again. You noticed something was a little different though.

“I could have sworn they were bigger,” you puzzled.

“No, you’re right, they were,” Lucifer laughed. “I can control how large or small they need to be. They might have broken something in here if they were any bigger!”

You chuckled lightly. They were even more breathtaking up close, his scarlet feathers glistened even in the dim lighting of the room. You stuck out your hands and touched the top of his first set of wings. Unexpectedly, Lucifer inhaled sharply from your touch, screwing his eyes shut. You pulled away instantly.

“Oh no!,” you gasped. “Did I hurt you? I swear I barely touched them! I’m sorry!”

Lucifer exhaled slowly and opened his eyes again. “No, no, it’s alright, love,” he cooed, “it wasn’t painful. I just didn’t expect the sensation. Let’s just say they’re…more sensitive than I originally thought.” It was only then you felt a bump forming between your legs.

Oh…OH!

You quickly caught on to what he was referring to. And having you straddle his lap probably wasn’t helping. A small smirk crept across your face. You couldn’t resist the urge to make him squirm from your touch; the thought excited you.

“Well, in that case…” you smiled slyly, reaching out for his wings once more. This time, you gave them a slightly firmer grip than before. Lucifer nearly yelped from your touch and buried his face into the crook of your neck. You ran your hands up and down the tops of his wings, almost massaging them in a way. Lucifer was unable to hold back his moans.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart,” he panted.

You loved the sight of him bending so easily to your simple touches. You wondered if you could break him. You began to shift your hips in his lap, grinding on the now very apparent bulge in his pants. Lucifer nearly sobbed as you ground your hips against him. You moved your hands down to his second set of wings to give them some attention. You could tell he was unraveling quickly.

“D-Dear,” he choked out, “i-if you don’t stop, I’m g-gonna…f-fuck…”

His plea only made you grind against him at a faster pace while continuing to stroke his sensitive wings. At this point he couldn’t even form a coherent sentence, only broken moans and gutural sounds left his lips. You moved your hands down to his smallest set of his wings, pinching them between your fingers.

“FuckfuckfuckFUCK,” Lucifer cried out as your movements finally pushed him over the edge. He bit down on your shoulder as he came, completely ruining in pants. Once he came down from his high, he looked into your eyes, almost distraught.

“I’m…I’m so sorry,” he whimpered. “I-I didn’t think that…I didn’t mean to…” He couldn’t finish his sentence. His wings disappeared from sight as he buried his head into you chest

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” you told him as you lifted his head up to plant a tender kiss to his lips. The small tears that had formed in his eyes fell down the side of his face, but you wiped them away with your thumbs. “Luci, please don’t apologize,” you soothed. “You never have to feel sorry for that! Did you feel good?”

Lucifer steadied his breathing, trying his best to calm down. “Yes, love, it was amazing. You’re amazing.” He lifted you off his lap and placed you on the mattress while he stood up, discarding the rest of his now filthy clothes. “But I absolutely refuse to be the only one being pleasured tonight.”

Without warning, Lucifer leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, filing your mouth with his tongue. You moaned against his lips, feeling as though you might be devoured by him. Lucifer tugged at the hem of your pajama pants, asking permission to remove them. “Mhmm,” was all you could mumble. In one swift motion, your pants had vanished and all you felt was the cool air on your legs. Lucifer brought down his fingers to your folds, loving the feeling of how wet you were for him. He captured your moan on his lips, but suddenly pulled his fingers away, leaving you to whine in protest.

Lucifer broke your kiss and brought his soaked finger to his lips, tasting your sweet nectar. “Mmm, you always taste so delectable, darling,” he marveled. You couldn’t help but blush at his words, he knew just what buttons to press when it came to you. He crawled back up on the bed and laid flat on his back, his head propped up by the pillows. “Come have a seat, sweetheart,” he teased as he pointed to his coy smiling face.

Your face became extreme hot as you crawled towards the demon king. You made your way on top of him and came to a halt when your dripping cunt hovered right above Lucifer’s eager smile.

“A meal fit for a king, truly,” he laughed as he dug his face into your aching pussy. You nearly screamed as his forked tongue worked his magic along your slit. He devoured you, making sure every inch of you was consumed. His lips found your clit and started to kiss and suck at it. He’d only just started and you were ready to snap.

“O-Oh my God, Lucifer, shhhiiittt, I’m so close…s-s-so close…,” you whined.

“God can’t hear you down here, angel,” he teased you before continuing to lap at your folds. He made quick work of you, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment.

“Fuuuuccckkkk, imcummingIMCUMMIMG,” you screamed as you finally felt your walls clench and spasm around nothing. Lucifer happily swallowed your juices as your orgasm started to recede. You tried to lift yourself up off Lucifer’s face, but he kept a firm grip on your legs.

“I’m not done with you, love,” he chuckled. With a snap of his fingers, golden shackles formed around your ankles, the chain hooked underneath Lucifer’s back. A twisted look of fear and passion flashed across your face. You were trapped.

“L-Luci…what are you-” you tried to asked but were cut off by another long lick up your sensitive cunt. A gutural moan escaped your mouth, you still hadn’t fully recovered from your orgasm.

“I thought it would only be fair to ruin you, since you ruined my clothes,” he chastised playfully. “But if at any time it becomes too much for you, tell me and I’ll let you go immediately, okay?”

“Al-Alright,” you stuttered, trembling from the anticipation.

Lucifer hummed against your lower lips. “I’ll make this a little easier for you, sweetheart.” You saw Lucifer’s form start to change beneath you. His horns had erupted from his head while his eyes shifted to a deep red and gold color with onyx irises. “Something for you to hold onto,” he murmured sensually.

Tentatively, you took hold of his horns and braced yourself for his next move. You didn’t have to wait long before you felt his tongue attacking your cunt once more. The grip you had on his horns could have torn your skin clean off with how tight you were holding them while he nipped and sucked your overstimulated clit. Before you knew it, your second orgasm hit you even harder than the first. Then your third, your fourth, your cunt was getting absolutely abused by Lucifer who hadn’t shown any signs of slowing down since he started. After your fifth orgasm washed over you, your legs had given out from under you, completely collapsing on top of Lucifer.

“No more…,” you begged. “No more, please…”

Lucifer snapped his fingers and the shackles around your ankles disappeared in an instant. You conjured up the remainder of your strength to push yourself off him and roll over onto your side, an absolutely breathless mess. You could hardly keep your eyes open. You could feel yourself losing consciousness until Lucifer pulled you flush to his chest.

“You did so well, my dear,” he murmured against your ear. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

“Sleep…” was all you could muster. Lucifer chuckled lightly, kissing your cheek ever so softly.

“Goodnight, love,” you heard him whisper as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. It was the best sleep you ever had.

~~~~

“I just think they’re neat!” - Me w/ Lucifer’s wings also Lucifer inventend pussy eating, this is fact, ALSO also something something handlebar horns

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel smut #lucifer smut #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #my writing #I’m not sorry for this #this was super self indulgent 😂#enjoy the new goofy Luci face!#a goofy face is my calling card lol #I was writing a lot of this in a public area I hope y’all appreciate the risks I take lmao

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