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satellite-evans · 4 months ago

Text

my lando

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando and Sophie go grocery shopping, but they come home with more than just food.

Word count: 5k+

Warnings: fluff

Request: If you’re taking requests I would love anything dad!f1. Also would you consider writing doing a part 2 for best friends that fic is so cuteee

A/N:

this is a part 2 to my fic best friends, so I encourage you to read that first xxx

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The doors of the grocery store slid open with a soft whoosh, letting in a burst of cool, air-conditioned breeze that carried with it the faint scent of baking bread and fresh produce. Lando guided the shopping cart inside with one hand, its slightly wobbly wheel clicking rhythmically against the tile floor. His other hand rested gently, protectively, on Sophie’s tiny back as she walked close to his side, her stuffed bunny clutched tightly to her chest like a shield against the vastness of the store.

“Alright, up you go, birdie,” Lando said with a playful grin, crouching to scoop her up effortlessly under the arms. Sophie let out a soft squeal of delight as he lifted her, her sneakers briefly kicking at the air before he settled her into the child seat at the front of the cart — the coveted "captain's chair" where her little legs dangled through the holes, already swinging back and forth like tiny pendulums.

“I get to ride today!” Sophie beamed, adjusting bunny carefully on her lap, making sure his floppy ears were arranged just right.

“You sure do,” Lando chuckled, leaning in to kiss the top of her head, his lips brushing her soft curls. He tried smoothing her wild hair down, but it only seemed to puff up more in defiance, and he grinned at the sight. “You’re my co-pilot, remember? Gotta help me make all the big decisions.”

Sophie nodded solemnly, her eyes wide and serious, though a smile still tugged at her lips. “We need milk,” she began, holding up one finger as though counting on an invisible list, “and fruit. And cereal. And snacks for Mommy.”

“Ah, snacks for Mommy — very important,” Lando agreed, steering the cart deeper into the store, the wheels creaking as they rolled over a patch of uneven floor. “You’re already keeping us in line, huh? What would I do without you?”

Sophie giggled, her arms wrapping around her bunny as she sat a little taller, clearly proud of her responsibility.

As they rounded into the bakery section, the smell of warm bread and sugar hit them like a soft wave. Lando reached out to grab a fresh loaf, checking its softness with a squeeze before putting it into a bag and tossing it gently into the cart. Sophie watched everything around her with wide, curious eyes — the rows of golden pastries, the spinning cake display, the workers bustling behind the glass counter.

“Lando! Look!” she whispered suddenly, leaning forward with excitement, her tiny finger pointing as though discovering a secret treasure. “Donuts!”

He followed her gaze, laughing as he spotted the display case filled with perfectly frosted rings of sugar.

“Dangerous,” he murmured dramatically, leaning closer as if sharing a secret. “You found my weakness, kiddo.”

Sophie giggled, hugging her bunny tighter. “Mommy likes chocolate ones,” she added, her voice soft and matter-of-fact, as though sharing insider information.

“Oh, does she now?” Lando asked, one brow raised in mock seriousness. He ruffled her hair again with a smirk. “Well, maybe we’ll have to grab some — just because you said so.”

Sophie nodded, clearly pleased with her influence, and together they moved on toward the fruit aisle.

Reaching for a bright red container of strawberries, Lando held them up to her with an exaggerated questioning look.

“These good, boss?” he asked, making her giggle at the title.

She tilted her head, inspecting them as if she were a real expert. “Hmm… yeah. They look yummy. Mommy likes those.”

“Perfect. Into the cart they go,” he said, gently placing them beside the bread and giving Sophie’s knee a little playful tap as he did.

As they kept moving, Sophie leaned to the side, reaching her hand out as though she could touch all the colorful cereal boxes lining the aisle. Her fingers trailed the edges of bright packages, and Lando smiled, watching her soak in the world around her.

“Alright,” he said finally, steering them to a stop right in front of the towering wall of cereals. “Big decision time, co-pilot. What cereal are we getting?”

Sophie’s eyes sparkled, her legs swinging faster with excitement. “I want the animal one! With the tiger!”

Lando scanned the shelves and plucked down the orange box featuring a grinning cartoon tiger.

“The tiger one it is,” he said, holding it out to show her before tossing it into the cart. Then he reached up for another box, holding it up with a sly smile. “Should we get chocolate cereal too? Y’know, for emergencies?”

Sophie gasped dramatically, her eyes going wide, clutching bunny to her chest like she couldn’t believe such luck. “Yes! And I can share with you!”

“Deal,” Lando laughed, giving her a playful wink as he added the chocolate cereal to their growing pile of groceries.

As they made their way toward the checkout, Sophie kept up a steady stream of chatter — soft, bubbly, and full of little observations about the store. She pointed out balloons near the floral section, admired the shiny apples they passed, and made Lando laugh with her random musings about what kind of cereal bunnies would eat if they could.

But then, as they rounded the last aisle, her voice grew more thoughtful.

“Lando?” she asked, glancing up at him with her head slightly tilted, curls falling over her cheeks.

“Yeah, bug?” he answered, glancing down, ready for whatever question might come.

She hesitated a moment, her fingers playing with bunny’s ear. “When the baby comes… can they ride in the cart with me too?”

Lando blinked, his heart giving a soft squeeze at her tenderness. You found out you were pregnant after your 1st anniversary with Lando, and he was over the moon. He already felt like a dad with Sophie, but this time he could experience everything from the beginning. Sophie was even more excited than the both of you. She always wanted a little sibling, and her dreams finally came true.

He slowed the cart and leaned in closer to her level, smiling gently.

“Well,” he said thoughtfully, “they might be a little too tiny at first. But when they’re bigger? Yeah, I think you two can share. You’ll have to teach them all about being a good co-pilot.”

Sophie’s whole face lit up at that, her smile beaming like sunshine. “I’ll show them how to pick snacks for Mommy,” she said proudly.

Lando grinned, giving her a soft, affectionate nudge. “Best teacher I could think of.”

As they neared the checkout, Sophie’s sharp little gasp cut through the hum of the store.

“Lando! Flowers for Mommy!” she cried, twisting in her seat and reaching one small arm toward the flower stand by the front entrance — a burst of color against the neutral aisles.

Lando followed her gaze, his chest tightening a little at the way she said it — so sure, so full of joy.

“You think so?” he asked, voice softer now, already knowing her answer but wanting to hear it from her.

Sophie nodded, curls bouncing as she leaned forward, bunny squished protectively in one arm, the other still reaching out. “She loves it when you bring her flowers. She smiles a lot.”

For a moment, Lando just stood there, hand resting on the cart handle, watching her. There was something about the way she said it — like it was the simplest thing in the world to make her mom smile, like love was easy if you just remembered the right kind of flowers.

He swallowed the lump rising in his throat, glancing down at her small fingers gripping bunny like a lifeline, her bright eyes shining with certainty.

“Alright,” he murmured, voice a little rough as he nudged the cart in the direction of the flower stand. “Okay, birdie. You get to pick them. Find the best ones for Mommy.”

Sophie’s eyes went wide, taking her role very seriously, sitting up straighter in the seat, scanning the colorful bouquets as though searching for treasure. She leaned so far forward, tiny brows scrunched in concentration, that Lando reached out instinctively to steady her back with a gentle hand.

Her little fingers hovered over a bunch of purple tulips, then bright yellow daisies, before finally pointing with great determination at a bundle of soft pink and white flowers — delicate, gentle things that looked like they’d been kissed by morning light.

“These,” she said firmly, voice full of quiet conviction. “These are like Mommy.”

Lando smiled as he reached for the bouquet, cradling it carefully in one hand. His throat felt tight again, but this time he let it settle, let it stay.

“You’ve got good taste, bug,” he whispered, brushing a hand softly over her curls, fingers tangling for a moment in the wild strands before he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

As they made their way back to the checkout, the flowers nestled carefully on top of the groceries, Lando tried to shake the feeling pressing into his chest — that deep, aching kind of love that made it hard to breathe sometimes.

Sophie stayed perched in the cart, bunny tucked under her chin, legs swinging back and forth as if life couldn’t get any better than this simple moment.

The cashier, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a bright name tag that read MARIA, smiled warmly at them as she began scanning their items, the beep of each product sliding across the scanner filling the air.

“Out with Daddy today, huh?” she asked casually, reaching for the strawberries.

Lando froze for half a second, one hand still on a box of cereal, his fingers tightening around the cardboard. The word Daddy hung there in the air between them, like something delicate he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch. His mouth opened, but the words tangled on his tongue.

“Uh—”

But before he could figure out what to say — before he could trip over the explanation he wasn’t even sure how to give — Sophie piped up, her voice sweet and clear and full of absolute certainty.

“Yeah! He’s kinda like my daddy,” she said with a proud little grin, turning her face up toward Lando, eyes shining with trust that knocked the breath right out of him. “We do everything together.”

Lando blinked, his throat tightening again as he stared at her, at this tiny person who just knew who he was to her, even if the world didn’t have a name for it yet.

The cashier, thankfully, didn’t ask questions. She just smiled even softer, glancing between them as though she saw more than he knew.

“Well,” she said gently, carefully placing the bouquet on top of the groceries, “looks like you’ve got a pretty great team.”

Lando finally found his voice, though it came out a little rougher than before. “Yeah,” he murmured, glancing at Sophie as she hugged bunny tight. A small, quiet smile curved his lips. “Yeah, I do.”

They finished packing up in a comfortable silence, Lando sliding items into bags while Sophie sat watching, her eyes occasionally darting to the flowers with a little grin.

When they were ready to leave, Lando gave the cart a gentle push toward the exit, but before they made it out the door, Sophie reached out and caught his hand in hers, her tiny fingers curling tightly around his, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Lando?” she asked softly as they stepped out into the sunlight, which poured over them like warm honey.

“Yeah, birdie?”

Sophie looked up at him, her face thoughtful under the bright sky. “Can I give Mommy the flowers when we get home?”

Lando looked down at her, heart full to bursting, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Absolutely,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “She’s gonna love that.”

Sophie beamed, her legs swinging happily again as she perched in the cart, bunny still safe in her arms. The flowers swayed gently in the breeze as Lando guided them toward the car, and for a long moment, it felt like the whole world had slowed just for them — like this little life they were building together was enough. More than enough.

After putting Sophie in her seat and loading the last of the bags into the trunk, Lando closed the hatch with a soft thud and turned around, expecting to find Sophie already impatiently bouncing in her seat. But instead, he found her still sitting quietly in the car, her stuffed bunny securely nestled in her lap, her little fingers curled around it. She was buckled in, looking out the window with wide eyes, her expression already brightening with the anticipation of the next part of their adventure. She seemed so small in that big car, but the way she sat there — calm, expectant, full of life — made it clear that she was the one driving this moment.

“You ready to head home, kiddo?” Lando asked with a smile as he slid into the driver’s seat, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. His hands settled on the wheel, ready to start the drive, but his heart still carried the weight of all the little moments that made the day feel like something special.

“Yep! Let’s go!” Sophie chirped back enthusiastically, her grin stretching wide across her face. She hugged bunny tightly, giving him a little squeeze like she was sharing the joy with him.

“And can we play the happy song again?” she asked, her voice practically sparkling with excitement.

Lando chuckled, starting the car and feeling the low rumble of the engine beneath them. He gave Sophie another glance, amusement dancing in his eyes. “The ‘do-do-do’ song?”

“YES! The Walking on Sunshine song! I want to sing it again!” Sophie declared, her tiny voice full of enthusiasm, and Lando couldn’t resist her infectious energy. He cranked the volume up a little and tapped his hands on the steering wheel, pretending to be a professional DJ for a second.

“Alright, alright! You got it, boss,” he teased, a grin tugging at his lips.

The familiar beat of the song filled the car, and Sophie’s face lit up immediately, her whole body bopping in her seat. She raised her arms in the air like she was conducting an orchestra, her joy radiating out of every tiny movement.

Lando, unable to resist the infectious tune, joined in with her, his voice a little off-key but full of the same carefree spirit. The car seemed to come alive with the sound of their combined laughter and song as Sophie’s little voice rang out beside him.

"I'm walking on sunshine, whoa-oh!"

Sophie’s eyes sparkled with glee as she turned to him, practically vibrating with energy. “Sing louder, Lando!” she commanded, her voice bubbling with laughter.

“Louder, huh? You got it,” Lando said, laughing as he turned the volume up even more, filling the car with the pure joy of their off-key duet.

Together, they belted out the chorus at full force, both of them laughing through their notes. Sophie’s voice cracked with the excitement of it all, and Lando’s was barely more in tune, but they didn’t care — they were singing for the sheer joy of it, their spirits rising with the beat.

"And don't it feel good!"

As the song reached its peak, Sophie threw her arms up dramatically, her face split by a grin that stretched from ear to ear. “Good job, Lando! You sang it so good!” she said with a proud gleam in her eyes, as if she had been the one to coach him through the song.

Lando couldn’t help but laugh, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest as he glanced back at her through the rearview mirror. “Thanks, kiddo. You were amazing!” he said, his voice full of affection. He gave her a soft smile, his eyes momentarily soft as they met hers in the mirror. “You sure you don’t want to be the singer? You’re way better at it than me.”

Sophie gave him a serious look, her little brow furrowing as she considered his offer. Then she nodded with quiet confidence. “No, Lando, you’re really good,” she said earnestly, like she was offering him sage advice. “But I’ll help you. I can teach you the words.”

Lando chuckled, the warmth in his chest spreading even further. “You’ll be the best teacher, huh?”

“I will!” she declared, her voice full of such certainty that Lando had no doubt she’d take her role as the teacher very seriously. “We can practice more next time!”

“That’s a deal,” Lando said, his heart swelling as he turned the car onto their street. The world outside the windows felt like it was moving slower, almost as if it was giving him space to savor the moment. He smiled softly to himself, realizing just how right everything felt. The car ride, Sophie’s laughter, their simple joy — it was all perfect in its own little way.

As they approached their house, Sophie’s voice piped up again from the backseat, bringing Lando back to the present.

“You did a good job, Lando. You always do good jobs.”

The words caught him off guard, and his breath caught in his throat for a moment as he blinked. It was such a simple, honest thing to say, but it hit him deeper than he expected. He kept his eyes on the road, his hand resting on the steering wheel, trying to hold it together as the lump in his throat threatened to grow.

“You always make me feel like I’m doing good,” he said quietly, more to himself than to her, but Sophie heard it. She always heard him.

Her eyes met his in the rearview mirror, and she smiled a smile that could light up the whole world. “’Cause you are. You’re the best Lando!” she said, raising her hand in the air like she was giving him a high five from the backseat.

“Thanks, little bird. You’re the best too,” Lando said, his voice full of affection as he winked at her, reaching back to give her hand a gentle squeeze, just for a moment, to remind them both of the bond they shared.

When they finally pulled into the driveway, Lando shifted the car into park and quickly turned off the engine, jumping out to open the door for Sophie. He helped her out gently, making sure she was steady on her feet. She jumped down and immediately dashed ahead, her excitement bubbling over as she ran toward the house, bunny still pressed tightly to her chest.

Lando paused for a moment, grabbing the bags from the trunk, and just watched her. She was humming a little tune to herself, her feet barely touching the ground as she skipped up the steps. Her giggles — full of joy and wonder — floated back to him on the breeze, and for a brief moment, the world outside seemed to fade away.

“She’s something, isn’t she?” Lando murmured softly to himself, his eyes following Sophie’s retreating figure up the steps.

The front door creaked open as Lando pushed it gently with his shoulder, carefully balancing the bags of groceries in one hand. His other hand was pressed to his side, whilst Sophie tried to keep the bouquet of flowers steady as she maneuvered through the doorway.

"Mommy! We're home!" Sophie called out, her small voice ringing through the house, echoing with a sweetness that made Lando’s heart warm.

You appeared from the living room, still in your cozy clothes, your hair a bit messy, one hand resting on the curve of your bump as the other brushed sleep from your eyes. The moment you saw them — Lando juggling bags, Sophie with her face full of joy and her arms holding the bouquet — a soft smile tugged at your lips.

“Hi, baby,” you greeted softly, your voice a gentle melody. You took a step forward and leaned in to kiss Lando’s cheek, your lips brushing against his skin, making him grin, his tired eyes lighting up just from the simple affection. Then you turned to Sophie, who was practically bouncing with excitement, her smile stretching from ear to ear.

“You two had quite the adventure, huh?” you teased lightly, your voice full of warmth as you bent down slightly to meet Sophie’s sparkling gaze.

Sophie’s eyes twinkled as she held out the bouquet toward you, her hand trembling slightly with the weight of her proud accomplishment. Bunny was still clutched securely under one arm, his little button eyes seemingly looking up at you too, as if he were part of the gift.

“These are for you, Mommy!” she declared in her most serious, grown-up voice. “Me and Lando picked them! I picked the best ones.”

Your heart swelled with an emotion that almost caught you off guard. You reached out, taking the flowers from her hand with care, inhaling their soft scent. The delicate fragrance filled the air around you.

“Oh, sweetheart, they’re beautiful,” you whispered, your voice soft as you kissed the top of Sophie’s head, feeling the warmth of her curls beneath your lips. “Thank you, my love.”

Lando, who had set the grocery bags on the counter, watched the two of you with a look in his eyes that melted your heart — that look, the one where it was clear his whole world revolved around both of you. His smile was subtle, but it said everything.

“I'm guessing you were the boss today, Soph,” you teased gently, reaching out to ruffle Sophie’s hair, a playful grin on your face.

“She was,” Lando chimed in, stepping over to you. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his hand instinctively resting on your bump, as if to remind himself of the little one that was growing there. “Best co-pilot ever.”

Sophie giggled at the praise, her face lighting up with the joy of being recognized for her hard work. She was clearly proud of herself, her small chest puffed out like she had just achieved something monumental.

“Well, I think my little co-pilot deserves a kiss too,” you said sweetly, your voice full of affection. You bent down and peppered Sophie’s cheeks with soft, gentle kisses, making her squeal with laughter, the sound pure and full of life.

“And me?” Lando asked with a playful pout, his voice teasing but warm.

You smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek, pulling him toward you for a soft kiss. Sophie giggled even louder, watching the two of you with innocent joy.

“Okay, okay,” Lando said with a laugh, breaking away from the kiss and ruffling Sophie’s curls. “You win, birdie.”

After a few moments of laughter and unpacking, Sophie seemed content. She scampered off to the living room, her little feet thudding on the floor as she went, bunny still tucked in her arms, her toys calling her name. Her soft giggles echoed from the hallway as she disappeared from sight.

Lando lingered in the kitchen, standing still for a moment with a thoughtful expression, glancing over at the doorway where Sophie had vanished. His fingers brushed the edge of the counter, his thoughts clearly still wrapped up in the day. Then, after a quiet pause, he turned to look at you.

“She, uh…” Lando started, his voice quiet but carrying an edge of vulnerability, as if unsure how to express something important. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to collect his thoughts. “At the store… someone asked if she was out with her dad.”

Your eyebrows raised slightly in quiet surprise. You turned toward him, watching him with soft curiosity, knowing there was more to the story. “Oh?”

He nodded slowly, shifting his weight and looking down for a moment, his hand running through his hair as if still processing the conversation. “I didn’t know what to say. And then she just—” His voice broke into a soft, almost disbelieving smile, and he shook his head slightly, as if still in awe of what had happened. “She just looked up and said, ‘Yeah, he’s kinda like my daddy. We do everything together.’”

Your heart clenched in the sweetest way, and you couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged at your lips. You stepped closer to him, slipping your hand into his, squeezing gently.

“She’s not wrong,” you whispered, your voice full of warmth and truth. “She’s right. In every way that matters.”

Lando exhaled slowly, his eyes softening as he looked down at you. His fingers laced with yours as he leaned into your touch, his forehead gently resting against yours for a brief moment. “I love her so much,” he admitted quietly, his voice almost a whisper, but it held so much weight, so much truth. “I know she’s not mine but… she feels like mine. I don’t know how to explain it, but she just… feels like mine.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you pressed your lips together, knowing exactly how he felt. You cupped his cheek with your free hand, guiding his gaze to meet yours.

“She is yours,” you whispered, your voice a steady comfort. “In every way that matters, she’s yours.”

Lando smiled softly, resting his forehead against yours for another brief moment, savoring the connection between you. He took a deep, steadying breath and pulled away, his eyes set with a determined gleam.

“I wanna tell her that,” he murmured, his voice low but resolute. “I just… want her to know. In case she ever wonders.”

You nodded, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “She’d love that. She’d be so happy to hear you say it.”

With one last gentle kiss to your lips, Lando pulled away and made his way toward the living room, where Sophie was sitting cross-legged on the floor, stacking blocks while bunny sat next to her like a little guardian.

“Hey, bug,” Lando said softly as he sat down beside Sophie, stretching his legs out comfortably. He glanced over at her, admiring the concentration on her face as she carefully stacked the blocks one by one.

Sophie looked up, her face lighting up immediately. “Hi!” she chirped, her eyes sparkling with the innocent joy only a child could have.

“Whatcha building?” Lando asked, his voice gentle, watching her tiny hands work diligently, the small pieces of the block tower taking shape in front of her.

“A tower. For bunny,” she said with a proud grin, motioning to the small stuffed bunny she had tucked safely beside her, sitting as if it were the most important guest in the room.

“Very cool,” Lando replied with a smile of his own, his heart swelling at the sweetness of the moment. He leaned back slightly, his eyes never leaving her as she worked. The quietness between them felt comfortable, peaceful. But there was something on his mind, something he knew he needed to say, even though it made his chest tighten a bit.

He rubbed a hand over his mouth, the nerves creeping in. “Hey, uh… can I tell you something?” he asked, his voice a little softer than usual.

Sophie blinked up at him, her face a perfect picture of curiosity, and then tilted her head to the side, as if trying to decipher whether this was a serious moment or just another silly conversation. “Okay,” she said with a small nod, her big eyes watching him carefully.

Lando took a deep breath and then reached over, gently brushing some curls away from her face. His fingers were soft as they ran through her hair, a gesture that felt almost instinctive, like this was a moment he didn’t want to rush. He let the quiet stretch between them, gathering his words.

“I just wanted to say,” he began, his voice quiet, almost hesitant, “I know I’m not your… well, I’m not your real daddy.” He swallowed hard, as if the words themselves were harder to say than he anticipated. “But you know what?”

Sophie’s small face became serious for a moment as she listened intently, her eyes not leaving his. Her little fingers paused their work as she waited for him to finish.

Lando smiled faintly, his chest tightening with a mix of emotion. “I love you like you’re mine,” he said, his voice cracking a bit with the truth of it. “And I always will. I’ll always be here for you. Even if I didn’t get to be there when you were a tiny baby, I’ll be here for everything else. Okay?”

For a brief moment, Sophie’s lip wobbled slightly, a flash of vulnerability in her eyes. Lando’s heart clenched at the sight, but before he could say anything more, she beamed, her expression shifting in an instant. Without any hesitation, she launched herself straight into his lap, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck.

“I know, Lando,” she whispered into his shoulder, her voice full of sweetness and trust. “You’re my Lando.”

Lando let out a soft, shaky laugh, feeling the flood of emotions overwhelm him. He hugged her tight, pulling her close, pressing a long, lingering kiss to the top of her head, the soft strands of her hair tickling his lips. “Yeah, bug. I’m yours,” he murmured, the words feeling more true than anything he had ever said.

Sophie nestled against him, content and at peace in his arms. Lando stroked her curls, trying to steady his breath, feeling her tiny heartbeat against his chest. There was so much love in that simple gesture, in her complete certainty that he belonged to her, that he was a part of her life in a way that felt both simple and profound.

After a few moments, Sophie pulled back just enough to look at him, her bright eyes still filled with the kind of wonder only a child could possess. She gave him a wide grin, her cheeks still flushed from the affection they’d just shared.

“Can we teach the baby to make towers too?” she asked eagerly, her voice full of excitement at the idea of a new adventure — one that would involve teaching the little sibling who was still growing inside your belly how to build things just like her.

Lando smiled, his heart feeling fuller than it ever had, a lump forming in his throat. He gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her soft skin. “Yeah, we’ll teach them everything,” he said, his voice quiet but full of promise. He could already imagine them all together — Sophie, the baby, you and him — building towers, teaching, laughing, and sharing moments just like this.

Sophie didn’t wait for a response but instead leaned in to press a quick kiss to his cheek, her lips soft and sweet against his skin. Then, without another word, she hopped off his lap, grabbing bunny with one hand and skipping back to her tower as if everything was exactly as it should be. She resumed stacking the blocks, her tiny fingers moving with determination and focus, like she hadn’t just shared something truly profound. As if nothing had been heavy in the first place.

Lando sat there for a moment, watching her, a smile tugging at his lips. His heart felt full in a way he never knew it could be. He didn’t have the words for it, but he felt it all — the joy, the love, the hope. His life had been turned upside down in the best way possible, and it was because of moments like these, with Sophie, with you, with everything that was growing between them all.

When he turned to look toward the doorway, he saw you standing there, watching him with a soft smile on your face. Your eyes glistened with unshed tears, but your expression was one of pure love, a smile that said everything he needed to hear without a single word.

This was his family.

And there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.

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gloomwitchwrites · 11 months ago

Note

His teammates call you because he isn't handling the break up well.

I'm gonna be honest, Anon. I went a more humorous route with this (but some angst in there too because why not!) I'm just imagining all of them being completely pathetic and the one calling is on the phone like "come get your man please." So, with that being said, I hope you enjoy this!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, some angst, established relationship, breakups. brief humor

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“You have two minutes,” you say immediately after answering your phone.

“You need to call him,” comes Simon’s gruff voice on the other end.

You’ve only met Simon a handful of times, but he’s always been your favorite of John’s team. He has consistently treated you with kindness and respect, and he never oversteps boundaries.

“Why?” you ask, glancing at your nails, pretending you don’t care.

“He fucking misses you.”

“That’s not enough of a reason,” you reply.

It isn’t. Not really. Even if your heart aches and your stomach flips from hearing it.

“Captain isn’t taking the breakup well.”

You want to say that you aren’t either, even though you’re the one who ended things. In reality, you miss John. It’s agonizing.

“And?” you ask, trying to hide the slight crack in your voice.

“He has us running laps around the fucking track, love. Haven’t done that since I was a grunt who couldn’t properly tie his boot laces.”

You sigh. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”

“Yes.” Simon’s response is immediate.

Rubbing your temple, you decide to take a leap. It wouldn’t hurt to talk. Not really. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank fuck,” he breathes.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“This is absurd,” you mutter, rubbing the middle of your brow, irritation building in the back of your head.

“Just give us a few minutes,” comes Captain Price’s voice. It’s Kyle’s boss, but he’s not the only one on the phone.

“Oh, aye. Hear us out.” Soap is there, too.

For all you know, Ghost is lingering on the call, a silent entity listening in but not saying anything.

“Why? Give me a reason?”

“Kyle misses you,” says Price.

“He loves you, lass.”

This isn’t new information. You’re aware of how Kyle feels but that doesn’t change things. The two of you are not together anymore. He needs to move on.

“He’s not handling the breakup well.” This time it’s Ghost. The silent man speaks.

“What do you want me to do,” you sigh.

“Talk to him,” says Price.

“No.”

Your phone buzzes and you hold it away from your ear. It’s a text from Price. You click on it, revealing a photo.

It’s Kyle. He’s curled up in his bed in the barracks, clutching a teddy bear he won you at a carnival on your first date.

“We can come get you,” says Price.

“Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“I’m sorry, John. But you shouldn’t have called. I don’t want to hear it.”

There is a deep sigh on the other end of the phone. You respect Captain John Price. The few times you’ve met him, he’d been pleasant, and he was always the first one to greet you whenever you visited Johnny on base.

“I understand that you broke it off with him.”

“John—”

“Listen. Please.”

He genuinely sounds concerned, and that gives you pause.

It’s not like you and Johnny ended things on bad terms. His life is busy. It’s dangerous. You just don’t fit in it, and the stress of never knowing when or if he’s going to come home is something far to difficult a thing to carry with you.

“He’s been struggling. Had to corner him in my office to get him to talk. He’s really hurting.”

You swallow. Lick your lips. “Why are you calling me, John?”

“I want you to talk to him.”

“John—”

“Soap is currently facedown in his bed in the barracks. Sulking.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to him.”

“In person,” says John. It sounds like a command. Not an ask.

“Fine, John,” you reply, grabbing your car keys.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“You need to talk to him. Simon is a bloody mess.”

“He’s fine, Johnny. He’ll get over. There was no reason for you to call me.”

Johnny snorts on the other end. “You don’t think so? I thought he was going to crush a new recruit’s skull in this morning.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not interested in talking with Simon right now.”

Is it really a breakup? No. Not really. More like a separation. Simon has your whole heart, but he’s stubborn and cold. His shell is difficult to crack.

“That’s too bad. Because I’m here.”

“You’re—what?”

“Aye. Walking up to your front door right now.”

You blink. Aghast. “John MacTavish you better not—”

There is a sharp series of knocks at your front door. “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” you mutter.

Growling, you storm to the front door, phone still pressed to your ear. You unlatch the deadbolt and yank the door open. Johnny is standing on the other side, his phone also held to his ear. He gives you his biggest grin.

You want to smack it right off his face.

“What are you doing?”

Johnny ends the call. “I’m taking you to Simon.”

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wonderjanga · 22 days ago

Text

Tourism

Billy is a tour guide. What? It helps bring in some dough on the side. Besides, he’s a local, he’s totally okay to be a tour guide.

Billy: “And if you follow me, I’ll show you a couple more attractions, such as Broomie the sentient broom.”

Tourists: *oohs and aahs*

Billy: “See, Broomie here sweeps this street and only the street. He’s been around since nearly the foundation of Fawcett, though the googly eyes are a new touch. Say hi, Broomie.”

Broomie: *turns upside down and waves bristles at them*

Tourists: *taking tons of pictures*

Billy: “Yes, he’s a dear. He knows it too.” *pats Broomie’s handle* “Now, this way is the Statue of the Dancing Crocodile.” *walks away*

Tourists: *follows*

Billy: “This statue was placed here about 160 years ago.” *pats statue* “Back then, it was just humans and witches and maybe a couple fae and dryads. The croco-people, as a show of good faith danced for the people of this town so they could be welcomed in.”

Statue of the Dancing Crocodile: *statue is actually dancing*

Billy: “They were and since then, they’ve lived with us. Now this way!” *starts to walk off again*

Tourists: taking some pictures and some run up after him because Billy is barely taking any moments for any actually pictures and such*

Five Minutes Later…

Billy: “This is Fawcett Zoo!”

Tourists: *taking pictures of dinosaurs and giraffes lowkey playing in the same animal pen*

Billy: “This is where we are going to be taking our break with Tawny the Tiger.” *hops the fence to the tiger exhibit* “Come on! No time to dillydally!”

Tourists: *some hop over, some don’t*

Billy: “Please help yourselves some tea, biscuits, and conversation.” *already sitting down next to Tawny and eating some cookies*

Tourist 1: “Is this animal food?”

Billy: “What? No. It’s perfectly humanly human food.”

Tourist 1: *shrugs and eats some too*

About Fifteen Minutes later…

Tourist 2: “That tiger was a real gentleman!”

Billy: “Yes, he was. Now, follow me!” *heads out of the zoo*

Tourists: *scramble after him*

Billy: “Now, we are heading to Fawcett’s Park. It’s home to the loveliest singing peonies and six-winged butterflies.”

Tourist 3: “Does he mean moths?”

Billy: “Do watch your step for any fairy rings!” *steps around one* “They’re all around the park too. You will be abducted if you step into one, and Captain Marvel will have to bargain for your release.”

Tourists: *gasps*

Billy: “Now, as for some general information about the place, Fawcett Park is a park fae of all kind like to frequent, but our resident superhero told them that a bunch of nasty humans would be coming so none of them will be here to bother you.”

Tourist 4: “Nasty humans…?”

Billy: “Sorry.” *clears throat* “Non-Fawcett humans. My apologies if I offended anybody.”

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics

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cherrygirlfriend · 21 days ago

Text

─── YOU'VE GOT MAIL .ᐟ

...or going back home.

★ pairing.ᐟ frat!rafe x nerd!reader

★ summary.ᐟ rafe cameron is the golden boy of kildare university; certified frat boy, captain of the football team, relentless party animal with lines of girls to sleep with.

reader couldn't be more different; while she has the best grades in the whole school, she suffers from social anxiety disorder, and her social life is limited to her three best friends and the cat she secretly snuck into her dorm room.

both of them decide to join the anonymous chatroom for their campus, and start talking to one another, a friendship starting to form between the two; but neither of them know how different the other is.

★ author's note.ᐟ send me asks and i might release another ygm chapter this weekend…

YOU'VE GOT MAIL!

you sat in the backseat right next to your friends, your eyes glued to your phone, all the chatter around you and the music playing on the stereo tuned out by just your focus on your phone screen, unaware of the boy looking at you through the side-view mirror with a dumb smile on his lips while occasionally glancing down at his own phone.

MalachiConstant: i'm still sorry that i went AWOL

MalachiConstant: my phone wasn't working for a bit and then i had stuff i needed to think about

YOU: yeah, you've explained about half a million times :p.

YOU: i understand. though, i was a bit worried you were ghosting me on purpose.

MalachiConstant: please, like i'd ghost my personal pocket genius

MalachiConstant: let me make it up to you

YOU: how? :D

MalachiConstant: i have my ways ;)

your cheeks felt warm, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth, but before you could even begin to typing up a reply, vivian let out a gasp, "you're smiling!" she exclaimed, grabbing the attention of everyone in the car. you turned to penny, a deer-in-headlights look in your eyes as you felt your face warm up even more. you simply cleared your throat, locking your phone. "i was just... reading." you shrugged, "oh, that makes sense." vivian winked at you. during all this, you still somehow missed the smirk on rafe's face.

YOU: i'm missing you too not gonna lie.

MalachiConstant: i’m honored MalachiConstant: you’re a menace. you’re always on my mind.

YOU: yeah? then come over.

MalachiConstant: i would if i knew where you were.

YOU: what would you do if you were here?

MalachiConstant: things i can't say in this chat without being banned.

YOU: you're nasty, MalachiConstant.

MalachiConstant: tell me something i don't know, AnnabelLee.

rafe laid on the couch in the fraternity's living room, a small smile on his face as he read the message you'd just sent him, talking about how you were going to start unpacking; the boy himself had just thrown his bag into the corner of the room.

AnnabelLee: i just finished unpacking. AnnabelLee: i'm gonna pick up my baby soon!!!

"what are you smirking at?" topper asked as he entered the living room, running a hand through his hair. "nothing." rafe was quick to clear his throat and put his phone away "c'mon. are you messing around with some chick and not telling me? you've been acting all pussy-whipped lately."

"nah, dude." rafe chuckled, "it was just some girl i invited to our back-to-school party tomorrow." topper held out his hand, rafe dabbing him up on the couch, but as soon as topper was gone, rafe turned back to his screen.

you'd just gotten done with unpacking your stuff, your computer open your lap while you scratched the soft fur on angel's head with your free hand as the white cat purred, but your hand stopped when you read the message MalachiConstant sent next, your heart beating against your chest as if it was a drum.

MalachiConstant: i want to meet up MalachiConstant: only if it's okay with you.

you let out a sigh, running a hand through your hair, a million different thoughts running through your head. what if he didn't like you? what if he didn't think you were attractive enough? what if he thought you were the most boring person in the world?

but somehow, your fingers typed up a reply.

YOU: alright. let's meet at the fountain at 11pm. wear something red so i'll recognize you. our code word is forevermore.

it took you over an hour to pick out what you were wearing, to decide if you wanted to wear your bangs this way or that way. you'd taken double your usual anxiety medication, now staring into the mirror feeling as if the person staring back was someone you didn't quite know.

"even if MalachiConstant doesn't think i'm attractive it doesn't take anything away from my worth." you breathed in, "even if he doesn't find me attractive, someone will."

you snapped the band around your wrist as you thought about the worst case scenario; maybe MalachiConstant didn't find you attractive, maybe he'd call you names and say you were disgusting… but at least you put yourself out there. you took in a deep breath, grabbing your bag and starting to make your way out of the girls' dormitory.

meanwhile, rafe was standing in front of his mirror, trying to smooth over his hair.

"hi, annabel lee." he said in a deep voice, before clearing his throat and repeating it in an even deeper voice "hi, annabel lee."

rafe sighed, running a hand through his short hair. what if you didn't like him? what if you'd heard all the rumors about him and though he was some nasty dude who couldn't keep it in his pants?

rafe sighed, pocketing his phone and keys, taking one last look in the mirror before leaving his room.

you'd been standing at the fountain for about ten minutes when the clock struck eleven, tapping your foot against the marble underneath your foot, looking around. for some reason, you couldn't help but get there early, to possibly catch a glimpse of your online penpal off guard.

but your eyes widened and your brows furrowed so harshly it hurt when you saw who was approaching you; surely it was an accident? surely he wasn't MalachiConstant.

"dodge?"

"hi."

"you're MalachiConstant?"

little did you know, the real MalachiConstant had frozen up in his spot only a few meters away, staring at the interaction between you and dodge.

TAGLIST: @yktayy9669 @tinythebunni @dywho @melalsworld @akobx @samwinchesterisawhore @st8rkey @jjasmiineee @ltristessedureratoujours @a-lovers-card @uselessnewt @lunaleah @letstryagaintomorrow @cinnamqnnlatte @papapoy @kay133sposts @wtfisastiles @butterfly1c @emmiesummers @melodyyybubbles @toomanywhitelies @littl3loveydovey @scne-vampire @alwaysmaybank @mysticbby2009 @luna443 @drewstarkeyswife-7 @flowerluvr @kisselxoll - cont. in com

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redtsundere-writes · 4 months ago

Text

Price's beard is famous around base—a rugged, full, and commanding presence that spoke to both discipline and masculinity. That type of beard that's hard to grow and maintain. And there's his hair. An immaculately cut, effortlessly styled, and somehow looking even better every time he comes back for a mission. Soldiers always pester him to tell them who his barber is, but he always gatekeeps it. He never cracks. It's his best well-kept secret.

After months of deployment, his beard needed a refresh. He knocked on his neighbor's door, a cute hairstylist that does her family and friend's hair on her free time. You opened the door with a huge smile to see Price was back home safe and sound.

“The usual?” You asked, pulling a chair from the kitchen for him to sit in. It was part of the routine. A warm hug after months of not seeing each other, letting him in your house, offer him something to drink, and putting his favorite tunes on the speaker.

“You know it. Just work your magic.” Price trusted you completely, almost blindly. You had been his barber for years now. “How's the family?”

“Pretty good, captain. My lil sister is getting married next week. I'll be doing her hair, such a huge honor.” You placed the cape around his neck, breathing in his intoxicating scent with notes of amber and musk.

“That's wonderful news. You better send my congrats.”

“Will do, captain.”

You prepared your tools—your shears, straight blade, a new leather strap you bought recently. You really like when Price came by, it was the perfect opportunity to use your barber kit and practice with a handsome model. “The usual” was simple. Price was meticulous about his grooming, already keeping his hair in check with the products you’d recommended. It was just cutting the top of his hair, cleaning the edges of his beard and carve out sharp lines that framed that unmistakably strong jaw.

But it wasn’t just the cut that brought him back, he liked the nice chats and to admire how you worked. He loved the way you worked—slow, steady, deliberate. The way your tongue peeked out to focus on the details. The gentle press of your soft fingertips as you tilted his head. Unlike other barbers, you never asked any questions about his work, he didn't like to think about that on his free time. When he sat in your chair, the world outside didn’t exist. It was just the sound of the scissors, the warmth of your presence, and a fleeting sense of home.

“And this dickhead even has the nerve to ask: 'Are we fucking or are we splitting the check?' Like, what the hell?!” You were telling him how your last blind date ended as you cut the sides of his hair, making sure it didn't touch his ears because the tickles bothered him.

“What a fucking pillock!” Price gasped angry.

“That's what I said!” You huffed. “Who is raising these boys? I swear to god, my 8-year-old nephew is more a man than that bastard.”

“I always wondered why are you single, I think I have my answer now,” Price said.

“Look, I may be single, but I ain't desperate. I won't settle for anything less than a gentleman.” You scoffed as you finished the touch ups. “We are all done, handsome.”

You gave Price a mirror. He moved his head around to admire the details of your wonderful, usual, job. He felt like a new, clean man. You looked at him with a bright smile, satisfied with your job.

“I am telling ya, you were born for this,” Price said as you unbuttoned the cape.

“Aw, thanks, captain. You are always so sweet.” You blushed.

“How much do I owe you, luv?” Price pulled up his wallet.

“Oh, c'mon. You know it's always from the house.” You pushed the wallet from your sight, making him to put it back in his pocket.

“You can't be giving away your talent for free,” Price smiled. He liked the attention, but he didn't want to abuse of your kindness. “At least let me tip you.”

“Please, captain. I insist.” You looked at him straight to the eye. Your heart skipped a beat when he looked back at you with those dreamy eyes of him. He finally smiled in defeat.

“Fine, fine.” Price sighed, putting the wallet back in his pocket. “What about I take you out to dinner?”

“Captain, that's not necessary…” You chuckled.

“Not as payment,” Price interrupted you. “As a date. I can give you the real gentleman you want.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, catching you completely off guard. You hadn’t expected that—hadn’t expected him to be so direct, so effortlessly charming. Price took your hand and kissed your knuckles softly, his beard tickling your skin lightly.

You met his gaze, your smile breaking through before you could even think to suppress it. How could you say no? The most handsome client to ever sit in your chair had just asked you out—and you accepted without hesitation.

Masterlist.

#this was inspired by one of those asmr barber roleplays #cleaning some drafts dont mind me #captain john price #john price #price #captain price #price x reader #141 #cod headcanons #task force 141 #call of duty modern warfare #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod #cod x reader #call of duty

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angelsuecult · 2 months ago

Text

the captain | s. crosby

warnings: sexual content, strong language, MDNI, 18+, NSFW, minors please do no interact, smut.

summary: Sid is given a hard time by his gf about his very stoic interactions with the media. he's not going to let you off so easy.

request: Younger reader and Sidney are already dating, but she can’t help but roll her eyes at his impeccable media training and family friendly personality in the media he does for the league, so she makes fun of him and takes a strong interest in pushing his limits 👀 (aka ends in smut)

word count: 6.3k

a/n: sorry for the extended hiatus guys! i should be back to regular uploads at this point in time and i am currently working through the request list! more to come to keep your eyes peeled guys! thank you for your patience with me! angelsuecult returns!! also to the original requester please don't hesitate to reach out if i completely missed the mark on this and you want me to retry! and requests are still open and update so dont forget to check that out!

You’re pretty sure Valentine’s Day games are a scam. Some cruel cosmic joke designed to make girlfriends sit through 60 minutes of freezing cold air and overpriced concessions just to watch their man play his heart out in a sport that could, at any moment, take all his teeth and potentially a limb.

Not that you minded. Much.

Sidney had played his ass off tonight—like he had something to prove. Not that he ever really didn’t, because the man didn’t know how to do anything half-assed. Especially not when it came to hockey. Or you, for that matter.

But of course, it just had to be Valentine’s Day.

You stood now in the tunnel by the player’s exit, phone in hand, watching as Penguins fans in Crosby jerseys flooded toward the concourse, buzzing about the win. Your fingers flew over your screen.

You: You know I was going to blow you when you got home, but I’m reconsidering because you just had to make it about you tonight.

Three dots appeared almost immediately. Then vanished. Then nothing.

You rolled your eyes and snorted. “Coward.”

The man had just been named first fucking star of the game. Of course he had. Two goals, one assist, and a faceoff win percentage so sexy it made you squirm a little. You knew his media obligations were kicking off soon—he was probably just peeling his sweaty gear off now, miserable about the idea of answering questions about “how it felt” and “what went right tonight.”

Sid: Can’t believe you’re texting me shit like that while I have to sit half dressed with 5 cameras pointed at me.

You bit your lip and grinned.

You: I can.

You: You looked good tonight. Real good. Like I’d let you put it in my ass kind of good.

You: Kidding. Kind of.

Another pause. He was slow replying, which you’d expected, and it only made you smirk more knowing he was probably trying not to react in front of his teammates or, worse, the media guys. You could practically see his jaw tightening as he tried to suppress a smile, annoyed but secretly delighted.

You could picture him already—still in his gear, slumped at his stall with his towel around his neck and that half-annoyed, half-resigned expression on his face. Someone probably tossed a mic in his face already. He was probably giving them that polite nod, the “Sure, go ahead” look, all while internally screaming. Sidney, Sidney, Sidney. Too private for his own good.

Sid: Go to my place. I’ll be done soon.

Sid: Stop texting me this shit.

You laughed out loud, drawing a glance from a nearby couple as you stepped out into the cold Pittsburgh night.

You: Oh baby, I haven’t even started.

You: Maybe I’ll be in your bed.

You: Maybe I’ll be in your shower.

You: Maybe I’ll be in that stupid jersey you “don’t like me wearing because you take it seriously.”

You could practically hear him groaning through the screen.

Sid: You’re an asshole.

Sid: Say the same shit every time anyway.

Sid: “Good team effort, got the bounces, lucky to come out on top.”

Sid: Happy now?

You: You forgot “credit to the guys” and “just trying to play the right way”

You: Gotta hit all the NHL buzzword bingo squares.

You: And don’t forget to smile like a humble Canadian virgin!

No reply. You let that one simmer. He was either suffering or plotting. Maybe both. Probably both.

You pulled your coat tighter around you, breath fogging in front of your face as you made your way to your car. The wind cut through your jeans, but your smile stayed in place. There was something so satisfying about teasing him after a big win—especially when he hated the attention but couldn’t stop being the best guy on the ice. You just couldn’t help yourself.

You got in the car and cranked the heat while pulling up the radio broadcast. They were still recapping the game, gushing over Sid like he wasn’t just a man who’d once tripped over his own shoe in the hallway.

“…and of course, Crosby with a textbook finish. You can see why he’s still one of the most consistent players in the league…”

You rolled your eyes, mimicking the voice in the car. “Oh yes, Sidney. So clean. So polished. Such a gentleman. Definitely didn’t say he was going to fuck me through the headboard if he scored tonight.”

Traffic cleared slowly as you went to his place, a familiar route etched into your brain. His street was quiet when you pulled in—classic Sid, all understated wealth and privacy. It took you forty five minutes to get from the arena to his house, another five to park and kick off your shoes inside the door. It smelled like him—like clean laundry, cedarwood, and that subtle vanilla scent of his shampoo you’d teased him for using but secretly loved.

You wandered through his halls, turning on a few lights, getting cozy. It always felt familiar here, even though it was very clearly his space—clean, functional. Like a guy who didn’t like clutter but had more money than he knew what to do with.

You padded into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. Full of ingredients. Not a single thing you could just grab and go.

“Romantic,” you muttered under your breath, pulling out a container of strawberries instead and wandering toward the couch.

The rest of the house was dark except for the hallway light, left on for you, and your socked feet were silent on the hardwood as you climbed the stairs to his bedroom. The hallway was chilly as you padded toward the bedroom in your socks, carrying the half-eaten strawberries and your phone tucked beneath your arm. Sid’s place had that always-too-clean look to it. Like he tried to live in it, but barely spent enough time home for it to actually look lived in. You made a note to mess it up later. Nothing too dramatic—just a sweatshirt on the floor, maybe a bra hanging off the couch cushion, leave a cup on the counter. Domestic terrorism.

You tossed your phone on the nightstand and peeled off your jacket, fingers brushing over the remote on the dresser.

TV on.

Pants off.

You were in his bed now, wearing his shirt—an old Penguins one that smelled like his laundry detergent and game day nerves—and absolutely nothing underneath.

Just as God intended.

The analysts were falling over themselves about his performance.

“…you know what you’re getting with Sid. Every single night. Discipline. Poise. He’s just got it.” You snorted.

“Yeah, discipline until he’s got me pinned under him telling me I’m not going anywhere until I apologize for teasing him about his ‘media voice.’”

Another buzz from your phone.

Sid: About to start media. They’re dragging it out tonight.

Sid: You’re lucky I like you.

Sid: And that I want to fuck you stupid.

You choked on your laugh, clutching your phone tighter as you wiped strawberry juice from your fingers onto his shirt. You stretched dramatically across the bed and typed.

You: Wow. Romantic.

You: Just like I dreamed when I was 10.

You: “One day I’ll date a hockey player who talks to me like a caveman on Valentine’s Day.”

Sid: Don’t act like you don’t like it. You’re already naked, aren’t you?

You: You’re not even here yet and you already think you know everything.

Sid: I do know everything. And I know you’re wearing my shirt. And that’s it.

Sid: Because you’re predictable. And a little slutty.

You covered your face with one hand and laughed out loud into the empty room. Your heart fluttered like a fucking schoolgirl even as you cursed him out in your mind.

There was something wildly unfair about the duality of Sidney Crosby. The version the world knew—stoic, polite, humble to the point of parody. And then the real version. The one who texted you filthy things from the dressing room and called you a brat with that low rasp in his voice that promised you wouldn’t be walking straight the next day.

He was such a damn con artist.

You: You’re the one who’s gonna cry when I leave you with blue balls tonight.

You: “Sorry Sid, I got tired waiting for you.”

You: “Sorry Sid, I used all my energy climbing your stairs.”

You: “Sorry Sid, I found your toothbrush and that did it for me.”

Sid: You’re such an asshole.

Sid: You’re lucky I’ve been horny for you since warmups.

Sid: You knew what you were doing, sitting that close.

You had known.

You always knew.

And he always played better when he knew you were there watching.

You yawned, stretched your legs beneath his sheets, and flopped dramatically on the bed, taking up all the space just to be a brat. You could already hear it: his sigh of fake annoyance when he got home, the shake of his head, the way he’d peel your shirt up with one hand and drag your body down with the other.

You rolled to your stomach, phone buzzing again beside you.

Sid: I’ll be home soon. You better be exactly where I think you are.

Sid: And if you’re not, you’re done. Actually done. I’ll find a Valentine who respects me.

You: You?

You: Wanting respect?

You: I’m sorry. I thought this was Sidney “I’ll fuck you on the bench if no one’s around” Crosby.

No reply. Which told you all you needed to know.

He was already doing media.

Probably giving his same bland ass answers.

Probably planning what he was going to do the second he walked through that door.

You looked around, debated getting up to light a candle or make the bed look a little less like a war zone. Then shrugged.

Let him deal with the chaos he caused.

You flipped onto your back and sighed happily, smirking at the ceiling.

The remote was still in your hand when the screen switched from the postgame panel to the locker room feed. You didn’t even bother turning up the volume—didn’t need to. You could already hear it in your head.

Sidney Crosby, media-trained robot, coming to life in hi-def.

You sighed and settled deeper into his bed, still cocooned in his shirt, bare legs tangled in his sheets. The duvet smelled like him. So did the pillow you were shamelessly half-lying on, half-straddling. Your phone sat close, a loaded weapon in the war of flirtation, but for now, you watched.

There he was, perched in his stall, sweat-slick hair hidden under a black team hat, compression long sleeve clinging to his chest and arms like it was painted on. No jersey. No pads. Just muscle, all angles and sharp focus, like the game hadn’t even left his bloodstream yet. Cue Captain Canada.

The reporter asked about the team’s energy tonight, and you muttered out loud to no one, “We played a full sixty, stuck to our game, did the little things right—blah, blah, blah.”

And then, right on cue:

“Yeah, I thought we played a full sixty tonight… stuck to our game, did the little things right…”

You cackled.

“Fucking called it.”

He looked half dead behind the eyes, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, nodding as another reporter threw a question at him. You didn't even bother listening this time. You just watched his face. That twitch of his mouth when he was trying not to say what he really wanted to say. That calm, serious voice he used like a shield. That stupid, safe, polished version of himself that made you want to throw something at the screen.

Because you knew the real Sid.

The one who talked absolute filth into your ear with that same mouth.

The one who made fun of his teammates the second the cameras were off.

The one who said “fuck” more than he said “I.”

And then—then—it happened.

The reporter asked:

“It’s Valentine’s Day, Sid. You played a great game. Got any plans tonight?”

You sat up a little. That one actually surprised you. When did the reporters get so bold?

He gave them that laugh—that stupid, breathy chuckle he only used when he didn’t want to give too much away. Then he smiled, eyes low, lips pressed together like he was fighting off the real answer.

“No,” he said. “Just recover. Get ready for the next one.”

That was it. That was all.

You stared at the TV, jaw slightly open.

“Recover?” you muttered. “That’s your answer? No wink? No cute little nod? Not even a fucking smirk? You lying sack of shit, Sidney Patrick.” You looked absolutely nuts talking to yourself.

You picked up your phone and unleashed.

You: “Just recover,” he says.

You: Wow. My pussy just dried up.

You: Say hello to celibacy apparently.

Still no reply. You fired off another.

You: You are such a fucking fraud.

You: There is literally a naked woman in your bed. Right now. At your house.

You: On Valentine’s Day.

You: But nooo, he’s gonna “recover.”

You: Go ahead, Sid. Recover. I’ll just be here. Thinking about life. My choices. The fact I could’ve fucked a dentist. Or literally anyone else but hey.

You bit your lip to hide a smile, watching him wrap the interview up, nodding politely, face locked in full Captain Mode. You could practically feel the tension buzzing under his skin. The itch to get the hell out of there and back to you.

One more for good measure:

You: When they say “Crosby keeps his private life quiet,”

You: They don’t know it’s because he talks so much shit in bed the FCC would fine him.

That did it.

Your phone lit up almost the second he stood from his stall.

Sid: You need to be stopped.

Sid: You need help.

Sid: I’m not even out of the building yet and I’m hard.

You flopped backward against his pillows, laughing like a lunatic.

You: I’m sorry did you forget you have a girlfriend? Did your nut brain erase me from memory just because you got first star??

You: Not even a cute little “gonna go home to the girl who’s been letting me rearrange her insides all season”???

You: Also don’t think I didn’t notice your compression shirt. You know exactly what you’re doing you manipulative little slut.

Sid: Jesus Christ

Sid: You knew what you signed up for.

You: I signed up for the hot hockey sex. The rest was a scam.

You: Don’t worry, I’ll be asleep by the time you get home.

You: No recovering necessary. You’re off the hook.

Sid: You’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow if you keep this up.

Sid: You want recovery? I’ll give you something to recover from.

You swallowed.

Slowly.

Okay.

So maybe you did like poking the bear.

And maybe the bear knew exactly how to fuck you into next week.

You tucked your phone under your pillow and let out a slow breath, heart thudding, a little thrill sparking low in your belly.

Valentine’s Day.

Just another game on the calendar.

Until Sid got home.

And the worst part was, you didn’t even realize you’d fallen asleep. One second you were tucked under his sheets, limbs comfortably sprawled, phone still clutched in one hand and TV murmuring softly in the background… and the next, you were blinking against the warm glow of the bedside lamp and squinting up at a very large, very amused, very smug silhouette looming over you.

“Unbelievable,” Sidney muttered, shaking his head as he stood beside the bed. His coat was halfway off, his cheeks still pink from the cold outside, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and that fucking backwards hat still on his head. “All that mouth, and look at you now. Out cold.”

You groaned before you could speak, voice thick with sleep and low like you’d swallowed a blanket. “'M not.”

“You literally just snored,” he said, dropping his bag to the floor with a thud and crouching beside the bed. “Like a full-on little cartoon snore. Tiny inhale, wheeze on the exhale. Real cute.”

“I did not snore,” you mumbled into the pillow. But your voice was gravelly, throat dry, and goddammit—your limbs were heavy with sleep, and he smelled so good, and everything was so warm.

“Look at you,” he murmured, brushing a few strands of hair off your cheek. “Talked all that shit and knocked yourself out.”

You shifted slightly, nose scrunching, a quiet little groan escaping your throat.

“Mmph.”

He grinned. Leaned in close to your ear.

“Babe.”

Nothing.

“Babe.” He kissed your cheek. “Hey. Hey. Wake up.”

You grunted, rolling slightly. “M’tired…”

You rubbed at your eyes with the back of your hand, barely lifting your head from the pillow.

“…What time is it?”

“Late. Or early. Depends who you ask.” He pressed a kiss to your hair. “You passed out. Didn’t even make it to Valentine’s Day sex.”

You groaned again, voice muffled. “I didn’t mean to. Your bed is criminally warm. I got cozy. My body betrayed me.”

“You talked a lot of shit.”

“Yeah well, I thought you were gonna be faster.”

He laughed low in his chest, slipping his hand beneath the covers to grab your hip and give it a squeeze. He climbed onto the bed with all the smug grace of a man who had absolutely earned this moment of superiority. He leaned down, one knee pressing into the bed right between your legs, and shoved at the covers just enough to catch a glimpse of your legs tangled beneath his sheets.

“You look real cozy for someone who was talking an awful lot of shit about how boring I am,” he said, tone low and teasing.

You squinted at him, your voice a gravelly whisper.

“You are boring. You literally said, ‘recover.’ Who says that on Valentine’s Day? Recover from what, Sidney? Being 37?”

He let out a sharp laugh and pushed your hair back from your face, warm fingers brushing your cheek.

“You’re a little shit,” he murmured.

“And you’re a liar.” You poked a finger into his chest. “You lied to the media. There was an actual naked girl waiting for you in your bed and you gave them the ‘I’m gonna rest up’ speech like a fucking priest.”

Sid rolled his eyes.

“You know I can’t give them anything,” he said. “They’ve been trained like bloodhounds. If I so much as hint at having plans, I’ll have a fucking headline on every sports page tomorrow.”

“God forbid people find out you’re not a virgin,” you deadpanned.

“Watch it,” he warned playfully. “I am a role model.”

You burst out laughing, head tipping back into the pillow.

“Oh my god, you are so full of shit. You talk like you’re running for office, but then you come home and say things like, ‘c’mere, baby, I’ve been thinking about fucking you against the kitchen counter since warmups.’”

He grinned. “Still true, by the way.”

You hummed and looped your arms around his neck lazily.

“You missed your shot then, Captain Celibate. Shouldn’t have let me fall asleep.”

Sid smirked and kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Didn’t realize the threat of dick was the only thing keeping you awake.”

“You should’ve. It’s your strongest feature.”

He laughed again, breath warm against your cheek, before ducking his head to kiss you properly—slow and deep and good, like he had all the time in the world. You melted into it, arms tightening around his neck, legs shifting beneath the covers until you hooked one behind his bent knee, dragging him closer.

Then he nuzzled into your neck again and added, low and dirty:

“You wanna go back to sleep, or you want me to give you something real to recover from?”

You groaned dramatically. “You are such a whore, oh my god.”

“And yet, here you are. In my bed. Wearing my shirt. Wet for me in your sleep, probably.”

“Shut up—”

“You were,” he said smugly, dragging his hand up your thigh. “I checked. You twitched.”

You covered your face with both hands. “You’re disgusting.”

“You’re worse,” he said, kissing down your throat. “And when you wake up tomorrow sore as hell, I want you to remember who was ready when the moment came, and who—” he nipped your collarbone— “took a nap.”

“Sidney.”

“Y/n.”

You sighed, dropped your hands, and stared up at him.

“You gonna fuck me or give another locker room interview?”

He grinned. And with that, he kissed you again, deep and slow and fucking smug. You could feel the smile on his mouth, even as he pressed you back into the mattress like you were the only thing worth coming home to.

"Holy shit," you said, breathless as he tugged your shirt up over your hips, revealing those barely there red panties you wore when you knew he’d be seeing them. Lacy. Dark. A tiny bow on the waistband.

Sid looked smug. “I’m so obsessed with you, it’s disgusting.”

“You're disgusting,” you corrected, but you were already arching up, letting him pull the shirt over your head.

He laughed low, all pleased with himself. "You love it."

His hand slipped a little higher, fingertips grazing the side of your hip where your underwear were just barely clinging to your curves.

You sucked in a breath you tried to pretend was casual. "Sid," you warned.

"What?" he drawled, blinking down at you like he hadn’t just started setting your entire nervous system on fucking fire. You lifted your head, giving him a look. "You’re fucking pushing it."

Sid grinned, so goddamn starved it made your toes curl. "You need me to spell it out, Y/N Y/LN?" he teased, voice dropping into that dangerous gravel. "Need me to tell you how bad I wanna fuck you?"

You groaned, covering your face with both hands like that could somehow save you. "Jesus Christ, Sidney."

He pulled your hands away, kissing your knuckles like a fucking gentleman, even while his other hand kept creeping higher up your thigh.

"Could just be gentle," he murmured, kissing the inside of your wrist now, right over your pulse. "Real slow, babe. Let you sit on my cock nice and easy. You barely gotta do anything. I'll do all the fuckin' work."

You whimpered, and he fucking heard it.

He grinned harder, absolutely predatory now, shifting to hover over you more fully, careful not to press too much weight onto you.

"Bet you miss it," he murmured against your ear, lips brushing your skin. You literally had sex in his bed this morning but you hated that he was right, you did miss it.

"Sid," you gasped, arching your back automatically, and fuck, he hadn't even touched you properly yet.

He chuckled low and mean, dragging his mouth along your throat, nipping lightly. "Tell me, baby," he rasped. "Tell me how bad you want it."

You shoved at his chest weakly, more for show than anything else. "I hate you," you breathed. "I fucking hate you."

"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled, grinning into your hair. "You love this dick though."

You burst out laughing, half-horrified and half-scorched alive. "You are so fucking nasty," you managed between giggles, pinching his arm lightly.

He caught your hand easily, pressing it down above your head, pinning you with almost no effort. "And you're so fuckin' wet for me right now, I can feel it through your goddamn panties," he grunted, pressing his hips into yours just enough to make you feel the thick, heavy line of him behind his dress pants.

You whimpered again, biting your lip. "Sid," you whispered desperately.

He kissed the corner of your mouth. "Say it," he ordered softly. "Say you want me."

You squeezed your eyes shut, breathing hard.

It was so unfair, how good he was at this. How easily he turned you into this trembling, needy thing even when you thought you had the upper hand for most of the day

But he looked at you like you were the best part of his night. Like he couldn’t wait to ruin you in the best goddamn way.

You cracked your eyes open, meeting his gaze. "I want you," you whispered. "You asshole."

Sid’s grin turned downright feral.

"Yeah?" he rasped, nuzzling into your jaw, his hand finally — finally — sliding under your panties, the rough pads of his fingers skimming where you were already slick and throbbing for him. "Good," he murmured. "‘Cause you're not gettin' away from me, princess. Not tonight."

You gasped as his fingers slipped deeper, teasing, and you clawed at his shoulders, your nails digging into the solid muscle there.

"Sid," you panted. "Bed’s gonna break if you fuck me the way you're lookin' at me right now."

He laughed low, dirty, and thrilled. "Then we'll buy a new one," he said, voice rough as he sank two fingers into you slowly and deep. "Hell, babe, we'll break every goddamn bed from here to fuckin' Canada if it means I get to feel you come around me again."

You moaned helplessly, arching into him.

And when he bent down, kissed you— really kissed you, slow and filthy and possessive — it felt like a promise burned into your skin.

Sid could’ve fucked you stupid in under thirty seconds if he wanted. The way you were already whimpering under him, writhing in his hands, he knew it wouldn’t take much.

But tonight — tonight he wanted to be slow. He wanted to wreck you proper. Melt every bone in your goddamn body.

He slipped his fingers out of you with a slow, slick sound that made you whimper again. He fucking loved that sound. Loved everything about you like this — messy and needy and all his.

"You gotta relax, baby," Sid murmured, dropping kisses along the flushed line of your throat, working his way lower. "Can't be tense on me. Gotta stay nice and easy for me."

Sid pulled back from your body just enough to catch you breathless— just enough to see you, all flushed and desperate, lips swollen, hair a wild halo against the pillows. His heart punched hard against his ribs.

"Fuckin' hell, Y/N," he muttered, staring at you like he couldn’t decide whether to devour you whole or build a shrine at your feet. "Look at you."

You whimpered and tangled your fingers into his hair, tugging gently, begging him wordlessly to keep going.

Sid huffed a soft, broken laugh, dragging your panties slowly — so slowly — down your thighs, baring you completely to him. He didn’t just toss them. No. He pocketed them. Smirked while he was doing it. Like the absolute sex demon he was.

And he was hard. So hard it was actually starting to hurt. He was damn near grinding in his pants for some kind of friction.

He pressed a kiss right between your breasts, trailing down your belly. You shivered so hard it made the mattress creak.

Sid grinned against your skin. "You already taste so fuckin' sweet," he muttered, nosing at your core, not even touching you properly yet, just letting the heat of his breath drive you crazy. "Bet you could get me drunk off your pussy right now, baby. All thick and fuckin' sweet just for me."

"Oh my god, Sidney," You gasped, tossing your head back. "You're fucking filthy."

"Yeah, well," he said, voice low and smug. "You like it, baby. You like havin' me mouth off about how sweet your pussy is when you’re desperate."

You made a sound somewhere between a moan and a sob, and Sid finally gave you what you needed — flattening his tongue and dragging it up through your folds, slow and deep.

Your entire body jerked.

"Jesus fuck, Sid," you gasped, arching off the bed, thighs trembling.

He groaned into you, his hands sliding under your ass to tilt you up even closer to his mouth. "You’re fuckin’ drippin', babe," he muttered, voice vibrating against your soaked skin. "Beggin' for it. Haven’t even touched my cock yet and you’re already so fuckin' close, huh?"

"Fuck you," you moaned, trying to close your thighs around his head — he loved when you did that, so desperate you wanted to trap him there.

Sid laughed low, all smug satisfaction, and stiffened his tongue to shove into your leaky entrance, bobbing in and out like he was starving. Every little whimper, every twitch of your hips, just made him harder, his cock aching in his dress pants.

He shifted one hand, dragging two fingers back inside you, pumping slow, gentle strokes in and out while he circled your clit with his tongue, slow and deliberate. His fingers moved slow between your legs, curling deep, working that perfect rhythm only he knew. Your thighs quivered, trying to clamp shut, but he squared his shoulder and pushed them open lazily. "None a' that," he said, smirking. "You’re taking it, baby. Not hidin’ from me now. Not after all that shit you talked on my phone."

You clawed at the dress shirt he was still wearing, trying to yank him back up. "You’re such a fucking dick," you gasped. "Coulda just got me some flowers and left me the fuck alone—"

Sid grinned, slow and greedy, dragging the how tongue down your slick folds, circling your clit just hard enough to make your hips jerk. "And miss this?" he murmured. "Babe, you’re better than Christmas. Better than a fuckin’ playoff win."

He pushed your shirt up higher until your breasts were exposed, beautiful and tender. He palmed one carefully, thumb brushing across your hardening nipple, and you gasped, your legs falling further open for him.

"Sensitive, huh, baby?" he whispered, watching you squirm. "Bet you could come just from my mouth on you right now, no hands, nothing."

"You’re fucking killing me," you moaned, lifting your hips helplessly, trying to get more friction.

He laughed again — slow, dangerous — and dipped his head to take your clit back into his mouth, sucking softly, then harder, pulling a desperate, broken sound from your throat.

You fisted his hair, hips rocking mindlessly against his face, your whole body tightening.

"Sid, fuck," you gasped, "I can't—I'm gonna—"

He lifted his head, grinning at your flushed, wrecked face. "You gonna come for me already, baby? Just from my fuckin' fingers?" he teased, pumping them harder now, twisting his wrist so his palm rubbed against your clit perfectly. "Fuck, that's hot. Goddamn, you're perfect. So fuckin' good for me,Y/N."

"Jesus–Fuck–Sidney." you cried out, arching hard off the bed as you came, gripping his wrist as if to tell him not to stop, body shuddering, your pussy clenched down so hard around his fingers it almost hurt, soaking his hand and mouth with a gush that made Sid groan into you.

He kept working you through it, slow and patient, until you were trembling, whimpering, utterly wrecked.

He kissed you again, deep and slow, until you went boneless against the sheets, gasping for air.

He pulled his fingers out finally, dragging them slow between your thighs, teasing your slit just to hear you whimper again. Then he sucked his fingers into his mouth, groaning low like you were the best fucking thing he'd ever tasted.

You slapped his chest weakly. "You're disgusting," you muttered, still breathless, half-dazed.

Sid grinned and grabbed your hand, pressing it to the bulge straining against the front of his now wrinkled pants. "Yeah? Feel how bad you got me, baby?" he rasped. "’M about two seconds away from blowin' my load like a fuckin' teenager over here."

You laughed, exhausted and glowing and a little feral around the edges. "Good," you whispered, hooking your legs around his waist. "Now fucking do something about it, Crosby."

He stripped his shirt off one-handed, tossing it somewhere behind him, before finally, finally undoing his jeans.

His cock sprang free, hard and leaking, and you made a broken, desperate sound that made Sid’s heart squeeze. Your mouth actually watered.

“Baby… fuck,” he muttered, his voice low and rough as he guided your hands above your head, he tapped his tip against your slick folds, nudging your clit teasing the both of you, you instinctively moved forward, preparing for more stimulation, “You ready for me, huh?”

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as you felt the warmth of the head pressing against your entrance, so close yet so far. You could barely form words, the need building inside you too overwhelming, and all you could do was let out a shaky breath, your hips shifting slightly against him. “Mhmmm,” you murmured, your voice trembling with anticipation. “need you.”

With a groan, Sidney shifted above you, his hands holding your hips as he slowly pushed his length into you, slowly, inch by inch. The sensation was overwhelming—your heat, your tightness, the way you stretched around him as he filled you. He couldn’t hold back the curse that slipped from his lips as he bottomed out inside you, his breath ragged as he held you close.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned into your neck, "tightest fuckin' thing, swear to god...made for me."

Sid stayed still for a moment, just breathing, letting you adjust, feeling your soft, fluttering muscles pulsing around him.

You let out a soft moan, your head falling back further into the pillow as you adjusted to the feeling of him inside you. The stretch was delicious, filling you completely, and the slow, steady throb of him buried deep inside made your pulse race. You could feel every inch of him, the way he fit perfectly against that gummy spot inside you, and it made you dizzy with need.

It took every ounce of control he had not to just start pounding into you like a goddamn animal.

Instead, he pulled out slow, almost all the way, and slid back in with one long, careful thrust that made you whimper and dig your heels into the mattress.

"That’s it," he murmured against your temple. "Just like that, princess. Let me take care of you."

He fucked you slowly—long, hard, deep strokes, savoring every twitch and gasp and curse. You arched under him, hips pushing up, body moving with his like you’d been built just for this.

The sound of his hips hitting the back of your thighs filled the room. He kept a first grip on your hips as he continued a consistent pace. At some point your brain just melted. Your eyes could no longer focus on him above you and your mouth hung open, moans no longer falling from your lips. The only thing you could do was tighten around him.

Sid could feel you getting close. He dropped down, his chest pressing right up to yours stopping his thrusts. But in your cockdrunk you started to grind upwards when Sidney wouldn’t move. Caught between needing the break but also wanting him to continue.He wanted this to last though.

And just like that, he was sitting back, pulling you up with him. Chest to chest, you were now on top. His lips catching yours in something deeper now—hotter, messier. You gasped as he lifted you slightly, maneuvering with muscle memory and intention, letting you sink down completely onto his cock.

“I got you,” he murmured, one hand on the small of your back, the other moving down to stroke your thigh. “Just move how you want. I’ll follow your lead.”

You couldn’t answer — too full, too overwhelmed, too in love — so you just sat on your knees and began rocking your hips in desperation. He knew you were getting impatient. It was in the way your hips started moving impatiently against his aching cock. He knew you needed to come and that you were close. It was in the way you took everything he gave you, every rough upward thrust, every whispered praise.

You leaned forward, one hand braced on his broad shoulder, the other tangled in his hair as you rode him slowly — hips rolling in little waves, the angle hitting all the right places, making your whole body quake.

“‘M close Sid,” you whispered, gasping when his thumb found your swollen clit again.

“Good,” he said hoarsely, “You need it. Look at you. All needy and swollen. You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. You know that?”

“Don’t stop ohmygodohgodfuck-” you whined, burying your face in his neck.

Sidney couldn’t stop even if he tried to. You’re too damn addicting.

He starts to thrust upward, matching the pace in which you're riding him. He desperate to watch you fall apart on top of him. He pushes two fingers into your mouth, you instinctively start sucking on them as if they’re his cock.

“There she is,” he whispers, rough and low.

You clamp down around his cock, coming hard and fast. It rolled through you in heavy, pulsing waves–warm and all consuming–pulling a wrecked cry from your lips.

“Fucking–Jesus–I’m–Goddammit Sid–”

Sidney came with a deep, desperate groan, burning his face in your neck as his cock twitched inside of your pussy. He emptied himself inside, thrusting up lazily a few times, fucking his come deep inside of you, even as you writhe above him in overstimulation. He watches as his cock drags in and out of you, a circle of your cream circling the base as his come leaks down his length and down to his balls.

Sid pressed you back onto the mattress, unintentionally thrusting his softened cock into you. You whine softly, already spent and tired and ready for bed. He presses gentle kisses to the side of your face.

“You okay?”

“Mm.” You mumble softly, already drifting off.

You had all the time in the world now. Sid had made damn sure of that.

#angelsuecultwrites #angelsuecult #the captain | s. crosby #sidney crosby #sidney crosby fic #sidney crosby imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl players #pittsburgh penguins #sidney crosby x reader #sidney crosby smut #reqs open

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postmortemnivis · 1 year ago

Text

nobody knew simon’s name, his cold glances penetrating souls whenever someone on the force even dared to call him by his first name. he preferred it this way. he wasn’t the kind to blend personal life and work, he didn’t want to look at himself in the mirror without his mask and still see a murderer. his hands were clean, protected by the gloves ghost slipped on each time he reached base. it was soon that the other soldiers almost forgot his name, agreeing that their lieutenant was indeed a ghost.

that was until your worried voice called for him.

you didn’t know of the ghost identity, it had never even crossed your mind that your simon, your sweet and caring boyfriend’s personality would switch into a cold blooded killer as soon as he set foot at base or in the field. of course he never mentioned it with you, he sporadically talked about his job and his missions. you knew he was a strict lieutenant, but you had been kept away from more by the person with the skull mask and balaclava.

“simon?” you asked for the third time the receptionist. she apologetically looked up at you and shrugged. “oh cmon, simon riley. i know for a fact that he’s here. please, i need to see him.”

“i’m very sorry miss but…” the woman shook her head again, “let me call the captain.”

you sighed and sat down by the waiting area until a man walked in and talked to the woman.

“who’re you looking for?”

you stood up. “simon. simon riley.”

“ghost?”

you shook your head, almost clueless. “no, simon riley.”

“yeah, that’s him…” he said, “he’s training the recruits now. shall i deliver a message?”

“no, i need to see him personally. i wouldn’t have come all the way here if it wasn’t important, captain.”

you'd seen price a few times, simon's loyalty to the man was almost like a dog's one, always following orders and rarely complaining. he often talked about him when he was at home, all he shared with you about his threatening job was the friends he made along the way: johnny, kyle, price, gary, nikolai. he'd often go out for a pint—or two—with johnny and kyle, who also occasionally would come to your shared apartment for dinner with their temporary girlfriends.

"follow me." price sighed. you eagerly followed him, as close as his shadow, and the courtyard came into sight. dozens and dozens of soldiers in scarlet training uniforms were running laps of the immense open space under the pale sun, and that's when you spotted a tall and muscular man in black tactical gear. hell, he was hard to miss.

"another lap, smith!" his mancunian accent was stronger than his will to neutralise it. "if my gran was alive she'd be faster than ya."

you'd recognised the voice, of course, even if it was much harsher than usual, but you couldn't recognise him.

you realised, that was ghost. his cold eyes were studying each of the recruit's tired and red faces, his arms behind his back as he barked for five more laps for the ones who didn't look sweaty enough. even his voice was different, but what shocked you was the black balaclava with the white skull drawn on top.

you'd seen the mask once or twice over the years, shoved at the bottom of his duffle bag or drying on a windowsill, but you've never given it much thought, why would you?

"si?" you asked, standing directly behind him as price stood a few feet from you.

his head snapped in your direction at a worryingly fast speed, his eyes immediately becoming soft, then confused.

"what're you doin' here?" his voice spoke, much sweeter.

you kept staring at him, not recognising the man you loved.

he immediately grabbed the crown of the balaclava and yanked it off without a second though. holding the black piece of clothing in his hand, both of them came to cup your elbows, drawing you closer to him.

"love?" he called you.

still at loss of words, you reached to the balaclava and twirled it between your fingers.

"love, talk to me." his voice sounded worried.

"ghost?"

he shook his head. "simon, love."

"we'll talk about that at home." you raised your eyebrows, attempting a smile.

he looked at you impatiently, his fingers brushing up and down your forearms.

you fished in your bag a small plastic bag and gave it to him.

this wasn't like one of the times when he'd forget his lunch at home so you'd drop by and give it to johnny so he'd give it to an always so busy simon ghost; he could see it in your eyes that this was something more.

he unwrapped the plastic bag that you had rolled up on itself. his eyes looked brighter than ever when he took with shaky fingers the finally positive pregnancy test.

#simon ghost riley #simon and ghost are two diff people #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost cod

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rafeandonlyrafe · 2 years ago

Text

a bet's a bet

rafe participates in no nut november

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, female masturbation (with toys), p in v sex, unprotected sex

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs

nov. 1

“this is the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard.” you cross your arms over your chest, but your boyfriend doesn’t give in, remaining steadfast.

“i already agreed to the bet, baby. you can’t change my mind.” rafe simply says, focusing on looking out the window instead of at you, avoiding your glare.

“i have needs too rafe! i can’t believe you’d agree to this without talking to me first.” you stand up from the couch, tired of this conversation. you grab your laptop and head up to your shared bedroom.

if rafe was going to make a stupid bet to not cum for the entire month of november, then you are at least going to repurchase a vibrator and dildo that rafe threw away when you first started dating, claiming you’d never need them again.

you pay for rush shipping and use rafes credit card, because fuck him.

nov. 3

“come on, just eat my pussy.” you groan, legs spread wide open on the bed, trying to convince rafe to pleasure you, but he just shakes his head no.

“baby, if i eat you out, i’m going to fuck you too. i can’t cum and break the bet, it’s only november 3rd. it’s been three days, we can do this.”

you close your legs as rafe lays down in bed next to you. you shouldn’t even be particularly needy yet. it’s not like you haven’t gone this amount of time before without having sex, but knowing you can’t have him is torture.

you can’t imagine a world without rafes cock, you’ve gotten so used to being stretched out by him on the regular that an entire month without is giving you withdrawal symptoms, increasing your horniness to unbearable levels.

nov. 5

look what just arrived. you attach a picture of your opened package, pink dildo and vibrator sat inside the box.

rafe reads the message but doesn’t deem you a reply, too busy doing whatever with barry. you honestly doesn’t care as you cunt pulses, needing to feel something inside of it, knowing it won’t be anywhere near as satisfying as rafes cock, but it will do. for now.

you strip yourself free of clothing and lay down on the bed, not even needing to go into the hidden album on your phone of nudes rafe has sent you, or when he snatched your phone off the nightstand and videoed you getting fucked, you simply imagine rafe being there, being the one touching you.

you send snaps to rafe, hoping to entice him into coming home and giving you his cock, but when you send him a video of you coming on the dildo, he simply replies with good try princess.

nov. 6

“aren’t you jealous of my dildo?” you ask, purposely leaving it out on the bed, but rafe doesn’t say a word as he lays down for the night.

“of course i am. this is hell for me too, y/n, but a bet is bet.”

nov. 7

“they won’t even know. just fuck me, i need it.” you whine, rocking against the seat that you’re sat on, not even caring that you’re out on rafes boat, and anyone could see you, not when he’s shirtless, muscles gleaming in the sun, a slight sweat sheening his skin from the high temperature.

“i can’t lie, princess. besides, they’ll know.”

“please, i’m desperate.” you beg, sliding off the stool to sit next to rafe on the captains bench as he effortlessly steers the boat towards deeper water.

“sorry baby.” rafe just tsks.

“can we make out at least? you’ve barely kissed me at all this month.” it’s true, in an effort to keep himself from growing a boner and losing self control, rafe has kept all of your kisses brief.

“fine, but keep your hands away.” rafe says, also missing your lips against his.

you were hoping you could press your body against his, at least get some relief, but rafe does make you keep your distance as your lips glide over his.

nov. 9

“i think this counts as girlfriend cruelty.” you cross your arms over your chest after another unsuccessful attempt at begging rafe to fuck you.

“i’ll make it up with a shopping spree.” rafe offers, and it’s not as good as his dick, but you still agree to it.

nov. 10

“does it feel as good as me?” rafe whispers in your ear, resisting the urge to reach down and help you out as you’re sat on the bed, fucking yourself with your new dildo as he tries to ignore the pulsating erection, forcing himself to think about things that turn him off, even as you’re laid out masturbating in front of him.

“fuck no it doesn’t.” you grunt, desperate for an orgasm even though you hate doing it solo, especially when rafe is right there, able to help. “which is why you should give up on this stupid bet and fuck me. need your cock, baby, i miss it.” “sorry.” rafe kisses your cheek, but still watches you in fascination as you cum.

nov. 12

“miss you.” you tell rafe, snuggling into his side as his arms are wrapped around you, keeping you tight to his body as you cuddle, having just enjoyed a lazy day together.

“miss you too baby.” rafe kisses the top of your head, letting his hands touch your, rub over your back, but never venturing into dangerous territory.

“want you so bad.” you complain. you don’t mean to ruin the sweet moment, but you really are beyond desperate for rafe.

“18 more days, we can do it.” rafe says, but you’re really not sure that you can.

nov. 13

“maybe i’ll go sleep with topper.” you say, hands on your hips, finally getting rafes attention as his head snaps up.

“fuck you will not.” he grunts.

“well, this bet is between you topper and kelce, right? maybe i’ll just go make them cum and then you can finally fuck me. i would also get some new dick out of it.” “you’re being a brat.” rafe says, knowing they’re idle threats, there’s no way you’d ever cheat on rafe, you just want to get him to break.

“well what are you going to do?” you taunt. “it’s not like you can punish me.”

rafe just smirks.

nov. 15

“what are you working on?” you ask rafe, placing your hands on his shoulders as he types away on his laptop. you bend down and give him a kiss on the cheek as he hums about whatever project he’s doing. you rub your hands over his shoulders, mumbling something about tension and working too much.

you let your hands move forward against his chest, and then lower and lower, until rafe is pushing your hand away from his crotch.

“come on, please.” you pout.

“you’re halfway there, baby. we can do this. a little bit longer and i’ll make you cum every day in december.” “multiple times a day, i think i’ve earned it.” you argue back.

nov. 16

you’ve had it. you’re sitting watching rafe work out, pussy dripping into you’re underwear, and you’re done with the games and the stupid bet, you’re getting your boyfriend to fuck you today.

you leave the home gym, rafe asking you where you’re going as he lifts the weight, but you ignore him. you head into your bedroom, changing into rafes favorite pair of lingerie and a tall pair of heels that still don’t cause you to reach his height.

you walk back down the stairs, heels clicking on the hardwood floor as you reenter the gym.

“fuck, baby, don’t do this to me.” rafe drops his head into his hands, physically unable to look at you.

“no. fuck this bet. it’s so stupid, rafe, i’m about to explode. i need you to fuck me. i don’t care what you lose.” “fine.” rafe says, and you think you misheard him at first.

“what?” you question.

“get the fuck over here before i change my mind, god i need you.” rafe stands, meeting you halfway as your bodies clash, lips pressed hard against each others as you paw at rafes clothes, needing to see him in all his naked glory.

you don’t even care that he’s sweaty from the gym, or that he’s lowering you onto the tiled floor instead of your bed. you’re not going to take the time to move even a foot.

“take your shorts off, fuck.” you groan, hands slipping as you try to push them down his hips.

rafe pauses his assault on your mouth to push his shoulders and underwear down, his hard cock springing free, tip already leaking with his balls hanging heavy down, filled with need from going without an orgasm for so long.

you pull your underwear to the side, revealing your soaked cunt. all it took was rafe agreeing to have sex that you got a rush of wetness.

rafe doesn’t waste time fingering you to open you up. you’ve been consistent enough with your dildo that it doesn’t hurt at all as he slides in, his warmth pressing against your walls as rafe groans, eyes fluttering shut as he cums before he even gives you one thrust, spurting into your pussy.

it’s too quick for you, but you still moan, clit pulsing as you finally get your boyfriend inside of you again.

“fuck, forgot how fucking tight you are.” rafe moans, and despite just cumming, he begins to snap his hips again already, fucking the cum further into you.

you reach down with one hand to rub your clit, pulling your boobs out of your bra with the other, letting them bounce with every hard thrust rafe delivers, not going easy on you despite it being 16 full days since you last had him.

“never doing no nut november again.” rafe promises you, pressing your lips back together in a searing kiss as you wrap your free arm around his shoulder and pulling him into you, his chest pressing against your sensitive nipples.

“i love your cock so much.” you moan, knowing when this is over you are going right upstairs and throwing that dildo away again.

“cum for me baby.” rafe begs, already feeling a second orgasm build, somehow having more cum to give you.

“yes, rafe!” you shout, back arching up off the floor as you cum, rubbing your clit to completion as rafe finishes inside you again, the excess of cum spilling out even as he keeps himself deep inside of you.

rafe collapses on top of you, twisting to the side so all your weight isn’t on him. he flinches when his bare skin hits the floor. “fuck, it’s cold.”

“it’s tile, dummy.” you giggle, causing rafe to groan when your pussy tightens. “take me upstairs, please.” you press your lips to rafe.

“i need a little bit of a break, baby.” rafe says, and you can tell from the way his cock is steadily softening inside of you.

“nope, you can eat me out until you’re ready to go again. i absolutely deserve this.” rafe laughs softly, “okay, you do.”

nov. 17

“you didn’t tell me this is what you had to do if you lost!” you shout at rafe as he looks at himself in the mirror.

“would it have changed how crazy horny you were?” rafe asks.

“i mean- no.” you sigh. “but you could have told me! i probably could have made it 15 more days if you just fingered me or something!” “do you wanna do it for me or do i have to do it myself?” rafe asks, causing you to snatch the clippers out of his hand.

“i’ll do it.” you run the blade over his head, watching as the gorgeous blond strands of hair fall off your boyfriends head, having to buzz it because he couldn’t resist fucking you for an entire month.

#tumblr has been glitchy with me today so if theres like layout errors im sorry #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #outer banks smut #rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe imagine

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peachesofteal · 1 month ago

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cw: noncon, smidge of watersports

Can't stop thinking about Captain Riley being gone for an extended period of time and worrying about you at home so much he arranges someone to check in on you. Make sure you're taking care of yourself, eating, sleeping, drinking water... everything. Ensuring you're healthy and happy in every way that's needed.

Kate's the most logical choice. She lives off base but close, close enough it's not an imposition, and Simon trusts her. He makes sure you know to expect her occasionally, tells you she has a key.

The first time she comes by is a quick check in. She's unobtrusive, looking you over before asking if you need anything, and then going on her way.

The second time...

You don't hear her come in. You're tossing and turning in the bed, naked from the waist down, grinding against the heel of your palm, trying to ease the ache between your legs. You don't even realize she's standing in the doorway until it's too late, and she's pulling the sheet down to expose you. You scream and snap your legs closed, but she shakes her head. Pries your knees apart.

"Do you need help?"

"What? No- no-"

"Hmm," she traces your folds and holds her fingers up to the light. They glisten with the evidence. "I think you do." Her thumb slides over your clit and you shake your head.

"I don't... ah- I don't think you're- you're not supposed to..."

"Actually, your daddy wanted you to be taken care of in any way necessary. He knows sometimes you have trouble making this pussy come, don't you?" You groan as she presses harder, rubbing your clit in a circle.

"N-no," you try to deny her. This is wrong.

"Yes, honey, you do, I know." A lithe finger slips inside you, and she hums. "Oh you're tight. Such a tight little girl for your daddy." You try to run up the bed, legs kicking, but she grabs you under the knee and holds you firm. "Be good, or I'll have to tell him you misbehaved." You're clenching around her, body betraying you, and fat tears roll down your cheeks. "Look at you. I bet you make your daddy crazy with this sweet little virgin pussy, don't you?" Your cheeks heat. How does she know?

"I d-don't want you." She moves closer, close enough she splits you around her thighs, spreading you wider.

"I know princess, but until your daddy comes home, I have to help, alright?" She's fucking you with her hand now, pressing deep, and you're holding your breath, trying to stave off your orgasm, trying to refuse her. "Come on, come for me pretty girl. You can do it."

"I c-can't I c-c-can't-" Even as you deny it, you tremble, trying to hold yourself back, fighting a losing battle. When you grit your teeth, still trying to resist, she sighs, and presses her free hand down firmly on your lower belly. "AH!" She chuckles.

"Maybe you need to pee instead?" The feelings are confusing. You're warm and tingling, and something inside you wants to be released, the pressure on your belly growing more firm. It feels good. It feels bad.

"No, nonono-"

"It will feel good. My little girl at home does it when she comes sometimes. Do you want to let it out?"

"No stop! Stop p-please." She presses harder and you gasp.

"Are you going to come for me?" She flicks your clit faster.

"Y-yes, yes- I... oh god, oh-" She lets go, and so do you, coming as you scream, tear stained face scrunched up, chest heaving, blissfully drifting as she gets you a glass of water and pats your thigh.

"Such a good girl."

#raspberry girl fic #Kate laswell supremacy #peaches writes

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velvetvisionsaurora · 14 days ago

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Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

<<Previous Next>>

Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️

Chapter 18: The Wooyoung Effect

Wooyoung stood outside the guesthouse door for a full thirty seconds, taking deep breaths and trying to summon every ounce of charm he possessed. This was arguably the most important conversation of his life—not loosing his mate because his captain had the emotional intelligence of a brick wall.

"Okay, Wooyoung," he muttered to himself, straightening his shoulders. "Time to work the magic: charm her, win her favor back. No pressure at all."

He knocked gently on the door, then immediately called out in his most pathetic voice, "Tulip? It's me. I come bearing no opinions about your career choices and absolutely zero comments about your hormones."

There was silence from inside, but he could hear movement—the rustle of clothes being folded, the sound of a zipper. His heart clenched at the evidence that you were really, truly packing to leave them.

"Please don't make me stand out here talking to a door," he continued, pitching his voice to sound as pitiful as possible. "I'll start singing show tunes, and nobody wants that at this hour. Well, I want that, but Yeosang told me my midnight serenades are a crime against humanity."

Still no response, but the sounds inside had stopped. He was getting your attention, at least.

"I'm going to keep talking until you either let me in or I fall asleep," he warned, settling in for what might be a long siege. "And I have a lot of material prepared and had a nap. Did I ever tell you about the time I got lost in IKEA for six hours and had to be rescued by security? Because that's where I'm starting, and it only gets more embarrassing from there."

A soft sigh from inside the guesthouse gave him hope.

"So there I was," he began dramatically, "surrounded by Swedish furniture. It started innocently enough—Seonghwa-hyung sent me to buy a lamp. One lamp! How hard could it be, right? WRONG. So very, very wrong."

He heard what sounded suspiciously like a muffled laugh from inside and grinned to himself. The Wooyoung charm was already working.

"First, I got distracted by the fake room displays. They're so realistic! I genuinely thought about moving into the tiny apartment setup on the second floor. It had better lighting than our dorm at the time. But then I realized they don't actually come with snacks, which seemed like a design flaw."

Another soft sound from inside—definitely a laugh this time, though you were trying to hide it.

"Anyway, I'm wandering through this maze of furniture, right? Following the little arrows on the floor like a good citizen. But somehow I ended up in the warehouse section. It's like a furniture graveyard back there—just endless shelves of boxes with names like BJÖRKÅSEN and KNÖPPÄNG."

He paused dramatically.

"I tried to find my way back to civilization, but every path just led to more boxes. I was like a lost puppy, except instead of finding my way home, I kept discovering new ways to mispronounce Swedish words. Seonghwa-hyung found me three hours later trying to build a fort out of HEMNES dressers and pillows."

The door opened suddenly, revealing your tear-stained face trying very hard not to smile. "You did not build a fort in IKEA."

"I absolutely did," Wooyoung said solemnly, his eyes lighting up at seeing you even as his heart broke at the evidence of your tears. "It was architecturally sound and everything."

Despite everything, despite the pain and anger and heartbreak, your lips twitched upward in a reluctant smile. "You're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously charming," he corrected, taking your smile as permission to step closer. "Ridiculously devastated that our pack leader has the emotional intelligence of a particularly dense houseplant. Ridiculously in love with an omega who deserves so much better than what she got tonight."

Your smile faltered at the reminder of what had transpired, the pain returning to your eyes. "Wooyoung..."

"No, let me finish," he said gently, stepping through the doorway when you didn't immediately close it in his face. "What Hongjoong-hyung said to you was wrong. Not just tactless or poorly timed—wrong. Cruel. Unforgivable."

You looked surprised by his directness, clearly having expected him to defend his pack leader.

"He used your trauma against you," Wooyoung continued, his usual playful demeanor giving way to fierce sincerity. "He dismissed your completely valid feelings as hormonal hysteria. He tried to control you instead of listening to you. And when that didn't work, he doubled down and made it worse."

Tears were starting to flow again, but you didn't turn away from him.

"I'm not here to make excuses for him," Wooyoung said softly. "I'm here because I need you to know that what he said doesn't represent how any of the rest of us feel about you."

"Doesn't it?" you asked, your voice small and broken. "Because it seemed like you all agreed that my job, my career, everything I've worked for just... doesn't matter anymore."

Wooyoung's face crumpled with genuine anguish. "Oh, Tulip. No. No, that's not... we were scared. We were overwhelmed by the mate bonds and the biology and the chaos of everything happening so fast. But that doesn't excuse dismissing your achievements."

He gestured toward your open suitcase, clothes folded neatly inside. "You are brilliant at what you do. You took our disaster of a schedule and made it work in ways none of us thought possible. You anticipated our needs before we even knew we had them. You made our lives better, our work smoother, our pack stronger."

"But you all said—"

"We said stupid things because we were panicking," Wooyoung interrupted. "When alphas get scared about their omega's safety, sometimes we default to caveman thinking. Protect mate. Keep mate safe. Mate stay in cave where no danger exists."

Despite yourself, you snorted out a small laugh at his deliberately exaggerated alpha stereotype.

"See? You're laughing," Wooyoung said with a triumphant grin. "That means there's hope. You can't pack and leave while you're laughing at my terrible alpha impressions. It's against the rules."

"What rules?" you asked, though your tone was lighter than it had been all evening.

"The rules of dramatic crisis resolution," Wooyoung replied seriously. "Section fifteen, subsection three: 'No life-altering decisions may be made while actively enjoying someone's company.' I don't make the rules—well, actually, I just did make that rule, but it's a good rule. Very reasonable."

You shook your head at his antics, but you were definitely fighting a smile. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly lovable," he corrected. "There's a difference. One suggests I'm a problem to be solved, the other suggests I'm a treasure to be cherished."

"Modest, too," you said dryly.

"Modesty is overrated," Wooyoung declared with characteristic confidence. "Confidence, on the other hand, is undervalued. For instance, I'm confident that you don't really want to leave us."

Your bite your lip looking away. "Wooyoung..."

"Tulip," he said quickly, sensing you were about to retreat back into pain and anger. "I think you want to leave the situation. You want to leave the feeling of being controlled and dismissed and treated like you're just biology to be managed. But you don't want to leave us. Not really."

He was right, and you both knew it. The mate bonds hummed with contentment just from being in the same room with him, even through your blocker. Your omega recognized him as yours, craved his presence, felt safe in his energy.

"It doesn't matter what I want," you said sadly. "You heard what he said. What you all think. I'm just supposed to give up everything I've worked for because I'm your omega now."

"Okay, first of all," Wooyoung said, sitting cross-legged on your bed with the casual familiarity of someone who belonged in your space, "that's not what we all think. That's what our panicked, overwhelmed pack leader said while his alpha was having a complete meltdown."

You remained standing by your suitcase, but you didn't resume packing.

"Second," he continued, "nobody said you have to give up everything. We just need to figure out how to make it work. How to keep you safe while still letting you be the brilliant, capable, accomplished woman we all fell in love with."

Looking at Wooyoung sitting on your bed, speaking with such earnest conviction, something he'd said multiple times suddenly hit you with full force.

"Wait," you said, your voice catching slightly. "You keep saying... you said you're in love with me."

Wooyoung's confident expression softened into something infinitely tender. "Of course I am. How could I not be?"

"But..." you struggled to find the words, gesturing helplessly. "The mate bonds, the biology, everything happened so fast. How do you know it's really love and not just... instinct?"

Wooyoung was quiet for a moment, considering your question with the seriousness it deserved. When he spoke again, his voice held none of his usual theatrical flair—just honest, vulnerable truth.

"Because I fell in love with you before I knew what you were," he said softly. "Before I knew about the mate bonds, before I knew you were an omega, before any of the biology kicked in. I fell in love with the way you laughed at my terrible jokes. The way you rolled your eyes at my dramatics but still smiled. The way you made our chaotic lives feel manageable and warm."

He shifted on the bed, leaning forward slightly. "I fell in love with how you never made me feel like I was too much. How you just... accepted all my energy and gave it right back. How you made me want to be better—not different, just better."

Tears were gathering in your eyes again, but these felt different than the ones from earlier.

"The mate bond just explained why loving you felt as natural as breathing," Wooyoung continued. "It didn't create the love, Tulip. It just gave me a reason for why the thought of you leaving makes me feel like I'm drowning."

"What about the others?" you asked quietly. "What about Hongjoong?"

Wooyoung's expression grew pained. "I can't speak for them—that's their truth to tell you. But Hongjoong... he's so terrified of losing you that his alpha keeps trying to control everything. The man is in love with you so much it's making him crazy, but he doesn't know how to show it without his instincts getting in the way."

You sank down onto the edge of the bed beside him, overwhelmed by the weight of his words.

"I love you too," you admitted softly. "That's what makes this so hard. I love you, but I don't know how to be yours without losing myself."

"Then I'll figure out how to love you without taking anything away from who you are," Wooyoung said with fierce determination. "I can't promise the others will get there as fast as I will, but I can promise I'll never stop trying to be the mate you deserve."

"Okay," you said softly, your decision crystallizing as you looked into Wooyoung's hopeful eyes.

"Okay?" he repeated, hardly daring to breathe.

"Okay, I'll stay," you clarified, and watched as his entire face transformed with joy so pure it made your chest ache.

"Really? You're really staying?" Wooyoung bounced slightly on the bed, his excitement infectious. "Because I have at least seventeen more embarrassing stories prepared, and I was really looking forward to using my 'pathetic abandoned puppy' expression. I've been practicing in the mirror."

Despite everything, you laughed—really laughed—for the first time all evening. "You practiced a pathetic expression in the mirror?"

"For weeks," he admitted with zero shame. "Ever since that time you couldn't say no to Jongho when he used his sad maknae eyes. I figured if it worked for him, it could work for me. Want to see it?"

Before you could respond, Wooyoung's face transformed into the most ridiculously exaggerated expression of pitiful sadness you'd ever seen. His bottom lip jutted out dramatically, his eyes went wide and glassy, and he even managed to make his shoulders slump in a way that suggested utter dejection.

"Oh my god," you gasped between giggles. "You look like a cartoon character who just had his favorite toy taken away."

"Is it working?" he asked hopefully, maintaining the expression. "Because I can add trembling if needed. I've been working on my trembling technique."

"Please don't demonstrate your trembling technique," you said, still laughing. "I'm already staying. You don't need to pull out all the stops."

Wooyoung's face immediately returned to normal, his grin bright and victorious. "Good, because honestly, the trembling looks more like I'm having some kind of medical episode. Seonghwa-hyung keeps trying to take my temperature when I practice it."

The image of Seonghwa fussing over a fake-trembling Wooyoung sent you into another fit of giggles, and suddenly the weight of the evening felt lighter. This was why you loved him—his ability to find joy and laughter even in the darkest moments, his determination to make you smile when everything felt hopeless.

"I love you," you said suddenly, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Wooyoung's expression went soft and wondering, as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd heard. "Say that again," he whispered.

"I love you," you repeated, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. "I love your terrible jokes and your dramatic flair and the way you make everything feel possible."

"Tulip," he breathed, his eyes filling with tears of pure happiness. "I love you too. So much it actually hurts sometimes, like my heart is too small to contain it all."

He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the contact. When he opened them again, they were blazing with affection and something deeper—need, longing, love so intense it made the air between you feel electric.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked softly. "Please? Now that you've said you love me, I think I might actually combust if I don't."

Instead of answering with words, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but as Wooyoung's arms came around you, it deepened into something more heated, more desperate. Months of suppressed longing poured into the contact, every emotion you'd both been holding back finally free to express itself.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, and Wooyoung's eyes had taken on that golden glow that marked an alpha responding to his mate.

"That was..." he started, then seemed to lose the ability to form coherent words.

"Yeah," you agreed breathlessly, understanding exactly what he meant.

Wooyoung's hands came up to frame your face, his thumbs stroking gently across your cheekbones. "Tulip," he said softly, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Can I ask you something? You can say no, absolutely no pressure, but..."

"What is it?" you asked, though you suspected you knew what he was going to request.

"Your blocker," he said quietly, his eyes searching yours. "Would you... could you take it off? Just for a little while? I want to scent you properly, want to smell your actual scent mixed with mine. I want to know what we smell like together."

The request sent a shiver through you—part anticipation, part nervousness. Removing your blocker would mean complete vulnerability, would mean letting him experience your true omega nature without any barriers.

"You don't have to," Wooyoung said quickly, clearly sensing your hesitation. "I just... the mate bond is so much stronger when I can actually smell you. And after everything tonight, I need that connection. I need to know you're really mine."

The vulnerability in his voice, the way he was looking at you like you were something precious and desperately wanted, made your decision for you. Slowly, carefully, you reached behind your ear and peeled away the scent blocker patch.

The effect was immediate and overwhelming. Your natural jasmine and vanilla scent flooded the small space, and Wooyoung's reaction was instantaneous. His eyes blazed fully gold as his alpha responded to the sudden presence of his unblocked omega, a low rumble of satisfaction vibrating through his chest.

"Oh," he breathed, his voice rough with emotion and desire. "Oh, Tulip. You smell like... like coming home. Like everything I've ever wanted."

He buried his face in your neck, breathing deeply as your scent surrounded him completely for the first time. The sensation of his warm breath against your skin, the way he seemed to melt into you as if you were his anchor, sent waves of omega contentment through your entire being.

"You smell perfect," he murmured against your throat, pressing soft kisses along your pulse point. "Like mine. Like you've always been mine."

The possessive words should have alarmed you, but instead they sent a thrill of satisfaction through your omega. This was your alpha, claiming you with scent and touch and reverent words, and every instinct you possessed was singing with joy at finally being able to show him your true self.

"Wooyoung," you sighed, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck.

"I love you," he whispered between kisses, his hands tangling in your hair. "I love you so much, and now I can smell how much you love me too. It's in your scent—happiness and affection and home."

You could feel tears gathering in your eyes again, but these were tears of relief and overwhelming emotion rather than pain. This was what the mate bond was supposed to feel like—not control or dominance, but mutual love and acceptance and the joy of finding your perfect match.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," Wooyoung said softly, pulling back to look into your eyes. "Don't ever pack your bags and threaten to leave. My heart can't take it."

"I won't," you promised, meaning it completely. "We'll figure this out together."

"Together," he agreed, sealing the promise with another soft kiss that tasted like hope and forever.

You and Wooyoung were lying peacefully on your bed, your head resting on his chest as his fingers traced lazy patterns through your hair. The emotional exhaustion of the evening was finally catching up with you, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat was lulling you into a drowsy contentment.

"We should probably head back to the main house soon," you murmured against his chest, though you made no move to actually get up. "Let the others know everything's okay."

"Mmm," Wooyoung hummed in agreement, his hand continuing its soothing motions. "Five more minutes. I'm not ready to share you with seven other alphas just yet."

You were about to tease him about his possessiveness when a sound from the main house shattered the peaceful quiet of the night.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID HE SAY TO HER?!"

The roar was so loud and so full of rage that it seemed to shake the very foundations of both buildings. It was followed immediately by what sounded like furniture being thrown and a string of colorful curses that would have made a sailor blush.

You shot upright in bed, your heart hammering as another furious bellow echoed across the garden.

"WHERE IS HE? WHERE IS THAT FUCKING—"

"Oh dear," Wooyoung said with exaggerated calmness, propping himself up on his elbows. "Sleeping Beauty is awake."

Despite the terrifying sounds coming from the main house, you couldn't help but snort with laughter at his casual tone. "Sleeping Beauty?"

"Our darling Mingi," Wooyoung explained with theatrical flair. "I'm guessing Yunho filled him in on Captain Foot-in-Mouth's latest verbal disasters while he was recovering from his medication-induced nap."

Another crash echoed from the house, followed by what sounded like multiple voices trying to calm down the raging alpha.

"Should we—" you started, moving to get up from the bed.

"NOPE!" Wooyoung declared dramatically, grabbing you around the waist and yanking you back down onto the mattress. Before you could protest, he'd pulled the covers up over both of your heads, creating a makeshift blanket fort. "Absolutely not. I cannot handle any more possessive, angry alpha energy tonight. I have reached my quota."

"Wooyoung," you laughed, trying to push the blanket down. "We can't just hide under here."

"Watch me," he said firmly, his arms tightening around you. "This is my safe space. No angry alphas allowed. Only cuddles and the lingering scent of jasmine and vanilla."

Another furious roar from Mingi made the windows rattle, followed by what sounded suspiciously like Hongjoong's voice trying to explain himself and failing miserably.

"Oh, this is going to be good," Wooyoung said with morbid curiosity, his voice muffled by the blanket. "I'm betting Mingi throws him through a window. Twenty bucks says our fearless leader ends up in the pool."

"You're terrible," you said, but you were giggling despite the chaos erupting across the garden. "Shouldn't we be worried about them killing each other?"

"Seonghwa's there," Wooyoung said with complete confidence. "He won't let anyone actually die. Maim, maybe. Severely injure, possibly. But no actual death. He's very responsible that way."

As if to punctuate his point, they could hear Seonghwa's voice cutting through the chaos with sharp authority, though the words were too muffled to make out clearly.

"See?" Wooyoung said smugly. "Mom's handling it. We can stay in our blanket fort of denial and pretend everything is fine."

"This is the most ridiculous crisis management strategy I've ever encountered," you said, but you weren't making any real effort to leave the safety of the covers.

"It's not ridiculous, it's strategic," Wooyoung corrected. "I have successfully removed us from the equation, thereby preventing any additional emotional trauma for my precious omega who has already been through enough tonight."

His arms squeezed you gently, and despite his playful tone, you could hear the underlying protectiveness in his words. He really was trying to shield you from more conflict, even if his method was utterly chaotic.

"Besides," he added with a mischievous grin you could hear in his voice, "this way we get front row seats to the drama without any of the risk. It's like reality TV, but with more property damage."

Another crash echoed from the main house, followed by what sounded like Yunho's voice shouting something about "everyone just calming down for five minutes."

"Your pack is insane," you said fondly, settling more comfortably against Wooyoung's chest.

"Our pack," he corrected firmly. "You're stuck with us now, remember? No take-backs. You already unpacked your suitcase."

The reminder of your decision to stay sent a warm flutter through your chest, even as the sounds of chaos continued to drift across the garden.

"I love you," you said softly, the words still feeling new and precious on your tongue.

"I love you too," Wooyoung replied, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head through the blanket. "Even if you did almost give me a heart attack with that whole packing-to-leave stunt."

"I'm sorry," you said, meaning it. "I was hurt and scared and—"

"Hey," Wooyoung interrupted gently. "No apologies necessary. You had every right to be upset. Our pack leader was being a complete disaster."

From the main house came the sound of what might have been a door slamming, followed by blessed quiet.

"Think they're done?" you asked hopefully.

"Probably just moved the fight outside," Wooyoung replied cheerfully. "Or Seonghwa locked them in separate rooms until they can behave like civilized humans."

"Should we check on them?"

"In the morning," Wooyoung declared firmly. "Right now, we're staying exactly where we are, safe in our blanket fortress, far away from any more alpha drama."

And despite the lingering sounds of conflict from across the garden, wrapped in Wooyoung's arms under the ridiculous safety of your blanket fort, you had to admit his strategy wasn't entirely without merit.

The guesthouse door suddenly burst open with such force that it bounced off the wall, and you heard Mingi's frantic voice calling your name, followed by the sound of multiple footsteps rushing into your space.

"Shh," Wooyoung whispered urgently under the covers, his arms tightening around you. "If we don't move, maybe they can't see us."

"That's not how—" you started to whisper back, but it was too late.

The blanket was suddenly ripped away from both of you with dramatic flair, leaving you blinking in the sudden light. Wooyoung let out a theatrical gasp, clutching the sheet to his chest with exaggerated modesty.

"I could have been indecent under here!" he declared with mock outrage. "What if I was naked? What if you traumatized yourselves? I'm not responsible for any emotional scarring that might result from seeing my magnificent—"

"Wooyoung," Seonghwa's tired voice cut him off. "You're fully clothed."

"That's not the point," Wooyoung huffed. "It's about the principle of the thing. The potential for indecency. The—"

His rambling was cut short as Mingi moved with lightning speed, reaching down and hauling you up from the bed before anyone could react. You let out a surprised squeak, instinctively wrapping your arms and legs around his tall frame as he lifted you completely off the ground.

The moment you were in his arms, Mingi buried his face in your neck, breathing in your unblocked scent with desperate relief. His whole body was trembling as he held you, his grip almost painfully tight.

"I thought you would be gone," he whispered against your throat, his voice broken and raw. "Yunho told me what happened, what he said to you, and I thought—I was so terrified that you'd left. That I'd wake up and you'd be gone forever."

Looking around the room over Mingi's shoulder, you saw the faces of your other mates, and they all looked just as frightened as Mingi sounded. Yunho's usual brightness was dimmed with worry, San's hands were shaking slightly, Yeosang's composed mask had slipped to reveal genuine fear, Jongho looked like he'd been crying, and Seonghwa's face was etched with exhaustion and relief.

But it was the figure in the doorway that made your heart break.

Hongjoong stood just outside the threshold of your space, his head bowed, shoulders hunched with guilt and shame. He didn't enter, didn't cross into your sanctuary, just stood there like he was afraid he'd contaminate everything with his presence.

"Hongjoong," you said softly, and his head snapped up, hope and pain warring in his expression.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. I was—there's no excuse for what I said. How I treated you. I understand if you can't forgive me."

The raw anguish in his voice, the way he held himself apart like he didn't deserve to be in the same room as you, made tears spring to your eyes.

"So," Wooyoung said loudly, clearly trying to lighten the devastating mood, "was Sleeping Beauty awakened by true love's kiss?" He winked dramatically at Yunho, who rolled his eyes but looked fondly exasperated.

"This isn't the time, Wooyoung," Yunho said softly, though there was affection in his tone.

"There's always time for classic fairy tale references," Wooyoung replied stubbornly, but his usual sparkle was dimmed by the heavy emotions filling the room.

Mingi finally pulled back enough to look at your face, his eyes red-rimmed and desperate. "You're really staying? You're not leaving us?"

"I'm staying," you assured him, reaching up to cup his face with gentle hands. "I'm not going anywhere."

The relief that washed over his features was so profound it was almost painful to witness. He pressed his forehead against yours, breathing shakily.

"I can't lose you," he whispered. "I can't. You're everything."

Your heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in his voice, at the fear still lingering in all their faces, at Hongjoong's continued self-imposed exile in the doorway.

"Mingi," you said gently, stroking his cheek as he continued to hold you against his chest. "I need you to put me down so we can all talk about this properly."

"No," Mingi said immediately, his arms tightening around you. "Not letting go. Not ever."

"I'm not going anywhere," you assured him. "I'll stay right here, I promise. But we need to figure this out, all of us together."

Reluctantly, Mingi lowered you to the ground, but immediately wrapped his arms around you from behind, his chin resting on top of your head. Clearly, physical contact was non-negotiable.

The room fell into heavy silence, everyone looking between you and Hongjoong, who remained in the doorway like he was afraid to contaminate your space with his presence.

"Hongjoong," you said softly, and his head snapped up, hope and pain warring in his expression.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. What I said was unforgivable."

"It was hurtful," you agreed, and you saw him flinch. "But not unforgivable. We just... we need to figure out how to do better."

Hongjoong stepped into the room, his leader instincts warring with his guilt. "You're right. We do." His voice was steadier now, more like the pack leader they all knew. "I let my alpha override my judgment. That can't happen again."

"Well," Wooyoung announced, clapping his hands together to break the tension, "family meeting time! Should I take minutes? I feel like we should document this historic moment of emotional growth and communication."

"Wooyoung," Seonghwa said with fond exasperation.

"What? I'm being helpful! Very secretary-like. Very professional." Wooyoung mimed writing on an invisible notepad. "Meeting commenced at... chaos o'clock. Attendees include: six very stressed alphas, one relieved omega, and one alpha leader who temporarily forgot how words work."

Despite the heavy atmosphere, several of the members cracked small smiles at Wooyoung's antics.

"The issue," Hongjoong said, his leader voice returning as he processed the situation, "is that my alpha has been in overdrive since the mate bonds activated. Every perceived threat to you, every challenge to pack stability, triggers an instinctual response that overrides rational thought."

"So what do we do about it?" Yunho asked genuinely.

Hongjoong ran a hand through his hair, his analytical mind working through the problem. "I need better coping mechanisms. Ways to recognize when my alpha is taking over and step back before I say something destructive."

"That would be helpful," you said carefully, not wanting to attack but needing to be honest. "Because when you get like that, you stop seeing me as a person and start seeing me as... a problem to solve."

Hongjoong's jaw clenched, not with anger but with self-directed frustration. "You're not a problem. You're never a problem. You're..." He struggled for words. "You're everything good about this pack, and I keep trying to control that instead of just being grateful for it."

"What if our alphas are being stupid?" San asked, looking between you and Hongjoong.

"Then we take responsibility for it," Hongjoong said firmly, his leader voice carrying authority again. "We don't make excuses or blame biology. We own our mistakes and do better."

"Does this mean group hugs are mandatory?" Wooyoung asked hopefully. "Because I vote for mandatory group hugs. Very therapeutic. Much bonding."

"Wooyoung," you said with fond exasperation, "you can't solve everything with hugs."

"Have you tried?" he countered. "Because I haven't found a problem yet that couldn't be improved with the right application of physical affection and my natural charm."

"Your natural charm?" Yunho repeated with a snort. "Is that what we're calling your ability to annoy people into submission?"

"It's a gift," Wooyoung said with dignity. "Not everyone can be blessed with my level of irresistible personality."

The light banter was helping to ease some of the tension in the room, and you could feel the pack bonds settling into something more stable.

"The bottom line," Hongjoong said, taking control of the conversation again, "is that we need better communication. All of us. And I need to learn to step back when my instincts are overriding my common sense."

"I can help with that," Seonghwa offered. "Call you out when you're spiraling."

"We all can," Yeosang added. "Pack accountability."

Hongjoong nodded, accepting the input with the grace of a leader who knew when to listen to his team.

"Good," you said, then looked around the room. "Any questions? Concerns? Dramatic declarations?"

"I have a dramatic declaration!" Wooyoung raised his hand enthusiastically. "I dramatically declare that this has been the most emotionally exhausting evening of my life, and I demand compensatory cuddles from our omega."

"You can't demand cuddles," Yeosang pointed out. "That defeats the purpose of cuddles."

"Fine," Wooyoung said with a theatrical sigh. "I dramatically request voluntary cuddles, to be given at the omega's discretion and comfort level."

Despite everything, you found yourself smiling. "I think that can be arranged."

"But yes, Mingi gets first priority tonight. He's been through a lot."

"We all have," Jongho said quietly, and the truth of that statement settled over the room.

"Well," San said with a mischievous grin, "technically Mingi got to have sex with you and then take a nice medicated nap. So really, he's had the best evening out of all of us."

Mingi's arms tightened around you possessively. "That's not—it wasn't like that—"

"Oh please," Wooyoung interjected dramatically, throwing himself into the conversation. "It was my heroics and tales of IKEA adventures that got her to stay! I should have her all night as a reward for my superior charm and storytelling abilities."

"Your IKEA story?" Mingi scoffed. "I'm the one who—"

"Who what? Had a rut-induced breakdown?" Wooyoung shot back with a teasing grin. "Very romantic. Much wooing."

"That's it," Mingi growled playfully, releasing you suddenly to lunge at Wooyoung. "Come here, you dramatic little—"

Wooyoung shrieked with delighted laughter, darting around the small room as Mingi chased after him. "Help! I'm being attacked by a giant! This is what I get for being helpful!"

The other members watched with fond amusement as the two alphas engaged in their playful wrestling match, the tension in the room dissolving into something lighter and more familiar.

While everyone was distracted by the chaos, you quietly slipped away from the group and moved toward Hongjoong, who was still standing somewhat apart from the others. His eyes widened slightly as you approached, surprise and hope flickering across his features.

Without a word, you stepped into his space and nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his familiar sandalwood and ocean scent as you gently scented him. You felt him go completely still beneath your touch, as if he couldn't quite believe you were choosing to come to him.

"I love you," you whispered against his throat, the words barely audible but carrying all the forgiveness and affection you felt for your complicated pack leader.

Hongjoong stiffened for just a moment before his arms came up to wrap around you tightly, pulling you against his chest as if you were something precious he'd thought he'd lost forever. He buried his face in your hair, breathing in your scent with shaky relief.

"I love you too," he whispered back, his voice rough with emotion. "So much. I'm so sorry, I love you so much it makes me stupid sometimes."

You felt him scenting you in return, his alpha finally settling into something peaceful as your combined scents created that perfect harmony that meant home, safety, love.

Behind you, Wooyoung's dramatic complaints about being "brutally attacked by a giant teddy bear" continued, but in this moment, wrapped in Hongjoong's arms, everything felt like it was going to be okay.

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