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kilojulietsierra · 3 days ago

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It Means Family (Dr. Jack Abbot x FemNurse!Reader) Oneshot

Based on this request from @pear-1206 : Jack Abbot x fem reader. She had a younger brother (you can give him a name if you want) who is a bit skeptical toward Jack since he's very protective of her. She had been his guardian since their parents died and he was practically being raised at the Pitt by everyone. Jack is friends with her and helps her with everything until their feelings change toward each other. He accepted Jack as his sister's bf but still held his opinion because he didn't want to see her hurt. After some time, Jack knew that he wanted to marry her and wanted her brother's permission. Maybe a series of attempts of Jack trying to gain it and the boy just messing up with him😆😆. Maybe after he's given it, she asks her brother to handoff her at her wedding. Maybe you can do it in two parts or just a long one shot. Either way, it's up to you. Suggestive, friend to lovers, kisses, etc. Ask me if anything. Tag me later!!! Thanks!!! :))? (I hope I did okay!)

~~~~~~

He had been there the night you got the call.

You wouldn't even have answered it, it had been a crazy night, but after the fifth time your phone vibrated in your pocket you got a sick feeling in your stomach.

You had dropped to the floor in the middle of the ED, your vision blurred, heart rate pounding in your ears. Blurred images of Lena and Ellis running your way, then Jack appeared.

Through your blurry vision and ringing ears you could almost see him, almost hear him saying your name. "Tell me what's wrong."

"They're gone..." It didn't sound like you talking, more like an echo, someone elses voice. "They're gone."

Then it was bereavement leave, a long flight to Honolulu, two coffins, a twenty one gun salute and a folded flag. A house on base you had 48 hours to pack up and clear out. A kid brother well over a decade younger than you that just had the whole world fall out from under him.

Night shift changed to day shift, late nights out with friends changed to school drop offs. Everything changed.

If you had worked anywhere else you weren't sure you would have made it through the first year. Lena, Dana, Bridget and Perlah, every one of them a Godsend. Without them, without Robby, and Cassie, Mateo, Princess, Frank and his wife, without them you would have drown under the weight of all of it.

You had loved night shift, but there was no way to keep that schedule and take care of your brother. You loved Robby, he was a great attending to work with, a great chief, but he wasn't Jack.

It didn't take long for you to start finding reasons to show up early if you could, or stay a little late, just to be on Jacks shift even for a few minutes. He never made a big deal about it, but he did always take the time to check in. If you were okay, if Marcus was doing ok, if you needed anything. "If either of you need anything, don't ever hesitate to ask. Okay?" There was no doubt in your mind that he meant it.

~~~~~~

"Did it hurt?"

"Yeah bud, it hurt. Still does some days." Jack had his pantleg pulled up and Marcus was staring intently at the titanium and fiberglass that made up Jack's prosthesis.

"Marcus!" You hissed at him across the counter.

"He's fine." Jack had turned to look at you over his shoulder with a smile, "Just curious. Nothing wrong with that."

"Sissy, have you seen Dr Jacks fake leg?" Your little brother looked up at you from his seat on the floor, eyes wide.

You had to try not to flush from the embarrassment, "Yeah Marc, I've seen it. It's called a prosthesis though, not a fake leg. Okay?"

Your brother nodded, fumbled over the word, "Prosthesis." He nodded again, "Can I touch it."

"Marcus!" You thought you'd drop dead.

Jack just busted out in a laugh.

"Go grab your stuff out of the breakroom, please." You pointed towards the door, "We need to go." Once Marcus was gone you through a pleading look at Jack, "Dr Aboot, I am so sorry."

He stood up, shook his head with a smile, "Don't be, he's fine. Just wants to know how stuff works is all."

You gave him an apologetic smile and changed the subject, "How's night shift been?"

"We get by, not the same without you though."

"Oh I'm sure." You laughed it off but it spiked your heart rate none the less.

~~~~~

It had felt silly at first. The little crush you had always harbored for Dr. Abbot. Not in any gross or even serious way really. Just... appreciation.

You thought that it would fade after everything and with the switch to days, but instead it seemed to have magnified it. Every moment no matter how brief now had your stomach spinning and your heart racing. You lived for the little moments between shifts and had finally started to admit to yourself that you had started to seek them out. Not just to visit, to catch up with your old team mates, but because it felt good. Exilerhating.

That particular night though, you hadn't meant to see Jack. Honestly you hadn't wanted to see anyone. You had parked yourself on a bench outside the ER, grateful at first that Dana had let you slip out a little early. Then the heaviness had settled over you.

Abbot had seen you, stood and watched for a moment from the ambulance bay before heading towards you. He approached cautiously and his voice was soft, "Hey, everything okay?"

Your stomach dropped. Embarrasment, guilt, something else. "Yeah, yeah, just... needed a minute I guess."

He stared at you. Nothing new. Then he glanced at his watch and the hospital then back to you. His bag thudded on the sidewalk and he groaned softly as he settled into the bench beside you. "Want to try that again? More convincing this time?"

The laugh tasted sour, "Everything's totally fine!" You hadn't realized you had felt like crying until just then.

Jack nodded, a slim smirk at your attempt. "Where's Marcus?"

"Perlah's mom picked him up and took them over for a sleepover."

He nodded again, "That's good. Boys'll have fun."

You nodded in return and swiped at your eyes. "He talked about it all night last night, all morning."

Jack leaned his elbows on his knees and turned to try and catch your eye. "So, want to tell me what's going on?"

"I don't..." You choked out another laugh, "I would if I knew. I don't even know. How stupid is that? I just feel..."

"Exhausted? Alone? Like maybe you don't want to go home to an empty house?"

You turned to look at him so fast it made him chuckle.

"I recognize that look. I know it well."

"How stupid is that?"

"Not at all."

You were both quiet for a long moment before you added, "I don't know how I ended up here. I don't know what I'm doing. I just..."

"You're doing great. Marcus is a good kid. Just need to take care of yourself too." Jack finished for you with an encouraging grin. "Go home and enjoy your night off. Drink too much, watch trashy TV, stay up late." He smiled a little wider at your chuckle. "Or go do something, go out while you have the chance."

You laughed again, harsh and still a little rough, "Go out? You're funny."

Jack grinned a little wider, "Well then go home, enjoy your night off." He stood up and grabbed his bag and then grabbed yours too. He held it out to you and used your grip on the bag to pull you to your feet. Once you finally looked him in the eye, still fighting back the tears, his smile softened slgihtly. There was something else behind it though.

"Next time you have the night to yourself, I'll take you out."

The expression on his face never changed, he just held your gaze, nodded after a moment and then gave you a quick wink before turning away and heading into the ED.

For several long moments you stood there, watching Dr Abbot walk across the street, totally taken off guard.

~~~~~

Before dinner with Jack you thought were going to have a panic attack. You'd paced your apartment, made Marcus and the sitter both stare at you oddly, came up with a dozen excuses to cancel. You only came up with one reason to follow through though; you really, really wanted to.

After dinner with Jack you couldn't even begin to remember any of the reasons you had panicked. When he stopped you a few feet short of your door and pulled you into a kiss you thought you were going to pass out. Your head spun so fast all you could do was hold onto him and hope he could keep you on your feet. Of course he did, strong arms holding you close and keeping you steady. He chuckled against your lips when a little moan escaped and you flushed with embarrassment as he pulled away to look at you.

"Not gonna lie, I've wanted to do that for a long time." He cracked a smile and studied your face as his hands smoothed over your waist.

When you could think straight you nodded, eyes stuck on his lips, "You should have done it sooner."

Jack chuckled again as he settled his lips back over yours and walked you the last few feet to your door. "I'll make it up to you, if you let me."

You moaned again and your grip on his shoulders tightened. You glanced over your shoulder at the door, conflicted, but Jack grabbed your chin and pulled you back to look at him.

He gave you a quick kiss and shook his head, "Not tonight hon." Another longer kiss, and he kept his voice low, "He's gonna have a bunch of questions if I walk in there right now."

"He always has a bunch of questions." You laugh and lean your forehead against his shoulder.

Jack wraps his arms around you fully and chuckles, breath warm against your ear. "Yes he does." He dropped a kiss there, and then selfishly dropped a longer, heated one against the side of your neck. Not pulling away until you shivered and pushed him back. Eye to eye again he gave you that look, the one you knew and loved so well, "We'll figure it out."

You nodded, smiling, heart racing, "Yeah we will."

~~~~~

"How old are you?"

"So old."

"Have you seen Lilo & Stitch?"

"I have not."

"Would you let me have a pet alien?"

"That would depend on the alien I guess."

"We lived in Hawaii. Have you been to Hawaii?"

"Once, while I was in the Army. I've even been to the base your Dad was stationed out of."

"Did you see his boat!?"

"I'm not sure, bud."

"Are you missing any other body parts?"

"Just the leg?"

"Are you a vampire?"

"Would I be out in the middle of the day if I was?"

"Can you make cheeseburgers?"

"Awesome cheeseburgers."

"Have you ever had an actual girlfriend before?"

"Yeah bud, I've had a girlfriend before."

"Have you and Sissy kissed?"

"Yes, your sister and I have kissed. More than once."

"Was it gross?"

"Not even a little bit." Jack was enjoying himself way too much as Marcus bombarded him with questions from the backseat of the truck. More specifically Jack was enjoying the way you were slumped against the window hiding your face in your hand trying not to laugh or cry.

"Marcus, I think that's enough questions." You gave Jack a pleading look, silently begging him to shut it down.

"Dr. Jack said I could ask anything I wanted."

Jack smirked at you, eyes hiding behind dark sunglasses, but you knew they were shining with glee at your suffering. "He's right, that's what I said."

"Are you going to make me eat vegetables?"

"Does Sissy make you eat vegetables?"

"Yes." Marcus mumbled.

"Then yes, I'm gonna make you eat your vegetables." Jack reached across the console and grabbed your hand. He gave it squeeze when you finally looked his way you couldn't help but smile. Jack looked over his shoulder at your little brother, "So, when do I get to start asking questions?"

"That's not fair!"

"Oh yes it is and I think it's miy turn."

Jack was sitting at your kitchen counter watching you make a cup of coffee, still half asleep. "What's Marcus up to today?"

You sipped the coffee while it was still hot enough to burn, "Perlah took the boys to some action park thing they just built on her end of town, gokarts, mini golf, all that."

"Should be fun. What's that gonna cost you?" Jack smirked, content to watch you wake up and sip your coffee.

"Five shifts in a row. So, they can take a long weekend." You pushed off the counter and came around like you were going to sit in the stool next to Jack.

Instead he grabbed you gently by the hips and pulled you to him, settling you between his legs with his arms around you. "You sure you don't want me to leave you alone? You can just relax today if you need to."

You let out a grumble, the meaning of it not entirely clear, but the way your weight sunk into him Jack took it to mean he should stay right where he was. It feels good to hold you like this. Head on his shoulder, face buried in his neck, and all of your weight against him with no doubt he would hold you up. "Don't know why I'm so tired," You mumbled into his neck, "Feel like I'm the one that worked last night."

Jack squeezed you tighter, "Why don't you go lay down? No reason you can't be lazy for awhile."

You grumble again, your coffee cup gets set on the counter and then you quietly ask, "Come lay down with me?"

For a second Jack froze, a dozen thoughts racing through his mind. He moved his hands back to your hips and just as quietly he whispered into your hair, "Can do that if you want." He dropped a kiss on the crown of your head and had to bite back a smile when you nodded against his shoulder. "Okay, c'mon."

Before you could stand up straight Jack had a hold of the backs of your thighs and hoisted you up to carry you down the hall. Your arms and legs wrapped around him tight and he was pleasantly surprised when you didn't act surprised, didn't argue or give him a hard time. Just let him carry you to bed.

~~~~~

A few hours later you woke up, warm and comfortable, one of Jacks arms under your head like a pillow and the other wrapped around your middle. When you sighed and shifted deeper into his hold, the arm around you tightened and you felt him press a kiss to the back of your head.

"What time is Marcus going to be back?" He sounded like maybe he had nodded off for a bit as well, his voice rough and raw.

"After lunch sometime. Sent them money for pizza." You couldn't bring yourself to open your eyes. Didn't want to do anything that meant you would have to get out of bed yet. Not when Jack was there with you, finally.

He nuzzled into the back of your hair and kissed you again, "Ready to get up?"

You shook your head and shuffled back, just a little closer to Jack, eyes still closed. "Aren't you normally asleep by now?"

Jack just hummed, spread his one hand wide over your torso, his thumb brushing over the fabric of your shirt. "Took a nice nap." His breath was warm and suddenly directly beside your ear. When you shivered and moved to shift your hips back, his hand moved from your stomach to your hip and clamped down, stopping you. "Stay right there." His grip softened, but his hand stayed put.

In an instant your heart began to race, "Why?"

"Because we're cuddling, and it's nice."

You bit your lip, hearing Dr Jack Abbot say 'cuddle' nearly making you giggle. "Feels good."

Behind you Jack chuckled, something a little extra behind it. "Yeah it does." He chuckled again when you tried to move, "Hon, I said stay there."

When the thought finally occurred to you you chuckled with him, "Dr. Abbot, is something wrong?" "

Jesus." His hand on your hip squeezed harder than he'd ever gripped you, "Yes and that's not fucking helping." Jack let out a painful groan when you freed your hand from your blankets to pry his fingers lose from your hip. Not that you had to try very hard, he let you move him easily, pull his arm back around you again and finally shift your hips back flush with his. "Jesus Christ." He breathed out as both his arms caged you against him.

A shudder ran down your spine, his breath against you neck, his lips, the muscles in his arms and chest flexing as he held you tight and the shameless way he caved in ground his erection against your ass. Another giggle escaped you, this one breathy and unsteady.

"Happy now?" Jack teased as his kissed the back of your neck.

"Yes." You shifted back against him again, testing the waters, and smiling when his breath rushed out him. "What time is it?"

He twisted the arm under you so he could see his watch, "Little after ten."

You took a deep breath, building up the courage, your desire doing a lot of the work for you, "I'm not tired anymore."

Jack had always known you too well, and you were so grateful for that because that was all you had to say for him to snap. His hands moved exactly where he wanted them as he coaxed you to turn your head to kiss him. If the kiss hadn't knocked the wind out of you already his words would have.

"You're gonna be."

~~~~

Jack was still there when Marcus came home, changed from his scrubs into the spare jeans and shirt he kept in his backpack. He'd stayed out of sight while Perlah and you chatted by the door, neither of you quite ready for that round of questioning just yet. Or the dozens that would follow.

Your heart did a little flip in your chest when Marcus lit up upon realizing Jack was there. Your brother immediately began to explain in excruciating detail all the excitement of the adventure park and Jack seemed more than content to listen.

You watched from the kitchen, hair still wet from the shower you had taken after spending the last couple hours of your morning in bed with Jack. Your heart flipped again when you heard Marcus ask, "What are you doing here anyway?" No filter, your brother still had no filter.

Jack threw you a look and the tiniest smirk before he answered, "Came by to see your sister after work. Thought maybe I'd hang out here today and we could go out to eat later. Sound okay?"

"Yeah! Can we go to that steak place again?"

"Marc, we don't need to go someplace quite that nice."

"Why not?" He looked at you a little put out.

Jack turned to look at you again, barely holding back a full on smirk, "Yeah hon, why not?."

You knew your face had betrayed your thoughts, because that smug asshole smiled, actually smiled. "Because it's pricey" You snark back at him even as he makes his way around the counter to come stand behind you.

He sets his hands on your hips and pulls you close, "So?" He pries. Then quieter, just for you he adds, "We're celebrating."

"Stop it." You hissed at him, a flush creeping up your neck. You did your best to ignore the feel of him chuckling behind you and turned your attention back to your brother, "We aren't going anywhere until you finish your homework anyway."

"SIssy… It's Saturday." He dropped himself onto the couch dramatically.

"And we made a deal that you could go this morning and have fun if you promised to finish your homework this afternoon."

"But Dr Jack is here, we can go do fun stuff!"

Jack must have felt your deep sigh because he held you a little tighter and kissed the back of your head. He whispered, "If he get's it done can I take you guys to dinner?"

You hummed in thought and dropped your head back against his shoulder, "Ok Marc, how about you get all your work done, and then maybe we can all go to Saltfork for dinner? Seem fair?"

"Can I have the brownie skillet thing!?" He launched back up off the couch with wide eyes.

Behind you Jack full out laughed and all you could do was pinch the bridge of your nose, "We'll see."

He did a little touchdown dance in the middle of the living room and then sprinted to his room.

Once you were alone Jack turned you around and pulled you closer. Stared into your eyes, smirk still firmly on his face.

"You don't have to bribe him to like you, you know? You're like the coolest person he knows." You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in his shoulder.

"Maybe I just like spoiling you both a little. Ever think of that?" His one hand slid down to cup your ass and squeeze. "Plus, like I said, we're celebrating." He snorted when you bit his chest through his t-shirt.

"Stop being so smug or it's not going to happen again." You mumbled.

Jack smirked, slipped his hand up and under the back of your shirt, warm against your bare skin, "So, you do want it to happen again?"

For a minute your embarrassment kept you silent, but you nodded and spoke into his shirt, "As often as possible."

That must have made him happy because Jack didn't say anything. He simply tipped your face up to his and kissed you. Deep, long, slow kisses that made your pulse skyrocket.

"Eww. Dr. Jack will you help me with my homework?" Marcus had reappeared.

Jack gave you one last kiss and a wink before he pulled back, "Yeah bud, what d'ya got?" He gave your hip a squeeze and then followed after Marcus as the boy ran back into his room.

~~~~~

"Is Jack going to move in?" Marcus asked one night while it was just the two of you eating dinner in the living room, watching Lilo & Stich. A treat for the both of you, acting like bums after a long week and watching a favorite movie. Even if Marcus swore it was for little kids. Never mind he knew it word for word and had watched it a thousand times.

"Jack has his own house Marc, he owns it. He's not going to move into an apartment with us." You fought down the nerves already spinning in your stomach.

"He's here a lot and normally, if you two had been together this long, you'd be living together. Right?" Marcus was a teenager now and you kind of sort of hated it. Raising your little brother was one thing, quote unquote raising your teenage brother was another game entirely.

Jack had been in Marcus's life for years now in one way or another. First as a friend of yours, then as your boyfriend, now it was clear that Jack Abbot was playing a big part in the young man your brother was becoming.

"Maybe." You pause to sip your drink, buy yourself time, "It's not always that simple though."

Your brother is quiet for a minute, watches the movie and shoves a handful of fries in his mouth. "So, are we going to move in with him?"

A week later he had asked Jack the same question. You had to work so Jack had gone to Marc's baseball game on his own. After the game they'd gone through the drivethru for food and while they waited Marc asked, "Would you want Sissy to live with you?"

Jack had a hell of a poker face, but he still nearly let it slip at that. "What do you mean?"

"If It was just you and her? You'd want to live together right?"

"Where's this coming from?"

"Just curious."

Jack thought for a minute, let the truck roll a few more feet ahead in the line. "Would you want to live with me?" He turned the question on the boy.

Marcus stared out the window, "I'd think it'd be kinda cool I guess."

"Don't think it would be weird?" Jack found himself getting his hopes up.

"Do you know how many times I have to explain to people you're not my Dad, you're my sisters boyfriend? It's already weird."

He couldn't help but laugh. Jack nodded a couple of times, "Fair enough."

~~~~~

In the middle of Jacks living room surrounded by storage totes you stood up to catch your breath and squint across the room at Jack, "Do you ever feel like we've been manipulated by a thirteen year old boy that just wanted a bigger bedroom?"

"Not a doubt in my mind." Jack laughs as he sets another tote down. "But," He closes the distance between the two of you and grabs your hips. Pulling you to him by the waistband of your shorts, "Jokes on him, I'm the one getting what I wanted all along."

You let him kiss you, enjoyed the butterflies in your stomach from making out in the middle of the house that would be your house now, not just his. Then you pulled away, "Have you ever lived with a teenage boy? You might regret this."

"I've lived in barracks." He pulls you back to him with a grin, "I've lived in a canvas tent in the middle of the desert, with twenty other dudes barely old enough to drink with no showers and eating MREs for three meals a day." You grinned along with him, while he made his point. "Think I can handle one thirteen year old boy." He sobered a little, eyes scanning your face, "Especially if it means I get you here in bed with me." Jack kissed you again, intention behind it this time as his fingers traced the waistband of your cutoffs.

When his fingers settled on the button you couldn't help but giggle against his lips, "Supposed to be unpacking." You still let your arms wrap around his shoulders, fingers combing through the curls at the nape of his neck.

"You're very distracting." He dropped his gaze down to his hands as they popped the button, "Especially in these fucking shorts." His fingers moved to the zipper, pulling it open so slowly.

"So I should probably get rid of them?" You teased, but it came out breathless and jittery as he walked you back towards the couch.

Jack bobbed his head to the side as he moved to kiss you again, "No, but you should definitly take them off."

~~~~~

The number of times you watched Jack over the years, sit down with Marc and talk about anything and everything. Talk through the loss of your parents, missing out on sports team tryouts, girl troubles, trouble with friends, life in general. From the time he was a young boy and barely knew Jack beyond Dr. Jack, Sissy's friend, Marcus had always seemed to see Jack as a source of knowledge and little to no judgement.

Bad behavior that sent you up the wall was nothing to Jack. A simple conversation or at worst a hard look and it was handled. To the point that you wondered what you would have done without him if it had just been you and Marcus.

Then one night while you were out with friends, something you were finally able to do again, Jack got a call. He nearly didn't answer, because he didn't recognize the number, but he was glad he did.

He didn't speak for a long while when he entered the hallway where Marc and his three friends were sat. He simply stared them all down. When he did finally break the silence, it wasn't the sisters boyfriend Jack that spoke. It was former Army NCO Jack Abbot, Dr Jack Abbot. Stone faced he simply said, "Explain."

To Marc's credit he stood up straight, looked Jack in the eye and told the truth. Something that went a long way.

Jack took him home, the drive long and painfully quiet, and when they got home he sat him down at the kitchen to wait for you to come home.

In bed that night you had stared at the ceiling. "At least it was just a gummy. RIght? And it came from a store."

Jack grumbled next to you. You both had lectured him on how dangerous it was to take any substance when you didn't know what it was for sure or where it had come from. Anyone could say they got it from a friend of a friend that was old enough. "He's a good kid, hon. He's smart. He told the truth and that's what matters I think. Just did a dumb teenager thing."

"Thank you for going and getting him."

"Of course."

You moved closer and cuddled into him, "I'm glad he has you."

~~~~~

One morning later that summer you were getting ready for work, watching Jack in the mirror as he slipped on his running blade.

Like always Jack sensed you, knew what you were thinking before you could say it out loud. "Coach told Marc if he wanted to make JV next year he needs to work harder." He stood up and shifted his weight back and forth on the specialized prosthesis. "So, he wants to start working out with me this summer." Jack came up behind you, eyes locked on yours in the mirror. "We'll see how he feels after today."

"Is it weird I think it's kinda sexy when you put that thing on?" You chuckled as he grabbed your hips.

"Yeah, it's weird." He dropped a kiss to the side of your neck, "I like weird though." You elbow him in the side and he only laughs, smacks your ass, "Have a good day, baby."

While he and Marcus jog around the neighborhood Jack can't help but let his mind wander. Half of him paying attention to Marcus talking about being able to take his driving test soon, and that he would need a car. The other half of his mind though, was occupied with a different conversation he needed to have with your brother.

Jack was a little ashamed to admit it took him the whole three miles to build up the guts to do it. They were walking down the street towards the house, cooling off. "Marc, I want to ask you something."

Your brother was still more than a little winded from the run, which honestly made jack feels a little better about himself, "Okay."

"How would you feel if your sister and I got married?" Just get it over with.

Marcus didn't answer right away, when he did it caught Jack off guard. "Why?"

"What do you mean why? Because we love each other, been together for years, because I want to."

"No, I mean," Marcus sucked in a deep breath, "Like, why now? You said it, you guys have been together for like ever."

Jack rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses, had to remind himself that to Marcus it was forever. Nearly half the boys life Jack and you had been together by that point. "Honestly bud, you're old enough now that her life doesn't revolve around you like it used to." Jack had always made a point in his relationship with your brother to be as upfront as possible. "You're older now, more mature. When you were a kid I didn't want to get in the way of you and her. That was more important." He didn't know if that made sense at all, to anyone but him.

Marc nodded as they crossed a street and after a few minutes he finally responded, "Is it alright if I don't know how I feel?"

"Of course it is." Jack stopped at the corner, knew that Marcus would follow his lead, "I love your sister, think you know that, and I love you too. It's important to me that you'd be okay with it."

"So, have you already asked her to marry you or something?"

He shook his head, "No, not yet. I wanted to talk to you first. Man to man."

Marcus nodded, "Nothing... nothing would really change right?"

Jack could see that kid in him then, the one that had once upon a time had the whole world ripped out from under him. "Not really. She might take my last name, that would be about it. It'll be easier for her to get my benefits and everything if something happened, but no, life will be pretty much the same."

"If you couldn't marry her? Are you going to get pissed?"

"Don't say pissed, especially around your sister. We'll both get in trouble. No bud, if she doesn't want it I'm not going anywhere."

"So, is this like, if our Dad was alive and you were going to ask for his permission to marry Sissy or something?"

Jack laughed, "Not quite, but sure you can think of it that way if you want."

"What if I said no?"

There was something in the kids eyes that Jack recognized all too well. "Then we're turning around and doing another three miles." Jack shoved him jokingly, "So, don't get a big head."

Marcus laughed as he caught his balance, "I don't know how I really feel about it I guess," He started as the two of them kept walking, "But, I think it would make her happy."

Jack didn't expect the stab of emotion in his chest. "Well, then how about you think on it and we can talk about it again later?"

It took Marc less than 24 hours to come back and tell Jack he thought it would be a good idea and then threaten him that if he broke your heart Jack would have him to deal with. Jack had laughed but nodded, "Understood."

~~~~~~

You had cried when Jack proposed to you, but now you could not quit smiling. Sprawled across his chest you stared at your hand in front of you, the diamond he had put on your finger, smiling.

Jack had one arm behind his head, but his other hand was drawing lazy patterns over your bare back, perfectly content to watch you in that moment. "Maybe I should have asked sooner."

Your eyes snapped back to his, "No, this is perfect." You moved to crawl up to meet him, kiss him, humming happily at the feeling of his two rough, warm hands settling low on your hips and then smoothing up your sides, over your back.

"Yeah?" He asked quietly, lips brushing over yours as he looked up at you, watching you intently.

"Perfect." You lowered more of your weight over him and he wrapped his arms around you, kissed you deeper. "Everything is perfect." You moaned when his hands moved back to your hips, pulling you straddle him. "I'm so happy Jack, you've always made me happy."

Jack nodded, cradled the back of your head and spoke directly against your lips, "Good. That's all I want hon," He paused to kiss you, the love and the meaning behind it bone deep, "Just want to make you happy."

You lost yourselves in it for a moment, kissing and touching eachother, both of you coming to terms with the knowledge that this would be the rest of your life. Jack was finally, officially, going to be a part of your tiny, broken little family. The missing piece that had brought it all together.

Suddenly you laughed, unable to stop it.

Jack grumbled, fingers dug into your hips, "Something funny?"

"I'm sorry." You kissed him, traced his tongue with yours in apology, "I just thought of something."

"Oh yeah?" Jacks eyes were laser focused as you sat up, still straddling his hips, your hands coming to rest on his torso. He let his hands slid down your thighs to rest, "Want to share?"

You bit your lip, "It's slly."

Jack just stared up at you, waiting. "Ohana."

Jack watched you, gently shook his head to say he wasn't tracking.

"Lilo & Stitch?"

Jack furrowed his brow, then shook his head, still confused. Marcus had forced him to watch the with him plenty of times when he was younger. Even still Jack would find the two of you on the couch watching the kids movie. He hadn't really put much thought into it.

"It's us." You shrugged and looked away for a second, "We watched it once, I'd only had Marcus with me for maybe... a month, if even, and I had no idea what to do so we watched movies. Like all the time." You nodded to yourself at the memories, your fingers absently tracing over the lines of muscle and a few scattered scars over Jacks chest and abdomen. "He said one day, ' Sissy! it's us.' and it is. A lost, sad, lonley, little kid, and an older sister just trying to do her best, but has no fucking clue what she's doing. Just trying to do what she can after their parents died. It's even set in Hawaii." You snorted out a laugh, "It's stupid but it was nice at the time, to see that, for both of us I think." You took a deep breath and smiled down at him.

"It means family?" Jack finally nodded, understanding he thought, his hold on you tightening, "It's little and broken, but still good, right? That's what they say?"

You nod, eyes burning again. Jack watches you, his eyes taking in all of you and then the corner of his mouth ticks up, "Does that make me the surfer dude boyfriend? WIth the muscles and the floppy hair that follows her around like a kicked puppy?"

The laugh rips out of you before you can stop it and you smack him across the chest, "I think it does." You're smiling like an idiot again as you stroke your hands over his strong core and chest, trace your fingers over the corded muscles in his arms and then you lean down. One hand combing through the graying curls you loved and your lips brushing over his. "Technically fiance."

~~~~~

It felt strange to be back in Hawaii. The last time you were here was for your parents funeral. So many emotions. You had woke up early, your internal clock messed up, but it gave you an excuse to sit and watch the sky light up over the early morning breakers. Your heart skipped a beat when Jacks arms wrapped around you from behind, his lips brushing over the side of your neck. You dropped your weight back into him, happy to feel him take it easily, keep you standing like he'd always done.

"Second thoughts?" He whispered against your ear, arms wrapped tight around you.

"Not a chance. You're stuck now, no getting out of it."

Jack hummed, a hint of a laugh in it, "Damn." His lips moved down your neck, over your shoulder. He didn't have to see you to know you had rolled your eyes. "Don't have to be up for a long time yet, hon." His hands moved to slip beneath the shirt you had worn to bed.

"Are you telling me to come back to bed?" You couldn't help but smile as you dropped your head back against his shoulder, let yourself enjoy the moment.

"Asking nicely." He chuckled into the side of your neck, "For now.'

"Well," You started, turned in his arms, "Since you asked nicely." You wrapped your arms around Jacks neck and kissed him as you let him take you back to bed.

For a few more hours anyway.

Then he was waiting for you, looking so calm and confident, smiling at you while your heart felt like it was going to rip out of your chest.

Beside you Marcus gave your arm a squeeze, and then he gave you an easy smile. His eyes locked on yours and unwavering. God, there was so much of Jack in him now. The way your brother stood, the way he carried himself, the confidence and certainty on his face as the seventeen year old boy stood in for your father, ready to walk you across the beach and up to the alter.

There had been a time, after that phonecall that had brought you to your knees in the middle of the ED, that you thought your life was over. Far from it you realized, It was just beginning. Sure, maybe your PTMC family was going to be a little annoyed with you when you get back from your "family vacation" and find out you and Jack had eloped, but they'd forgive you. Eventually.

~~ The End ~~

#the pitt #the pitt hbo #the pitt fanfic #the pitt fanfiction #the Pitt request #dr jack abbot #dr jack abbot x reader #dr jack abbot x you #Jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x you #shawn hatosy #the pitt x reader

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saintormentor · 3 days ago

Text

tag teamed m. s & c. s

in which . . . matt suggests a threesome with his brother chris, which made you hesitant at first. key word: at first.

content warnings . . . threesome ( zero incest. that’s disgusting. ) dizziness, oral, p in v, roughness, basically hardcore smut

matt brings it up one night, voice barely above a whisper. it’s late—way past midnight—and the sheets are tangled around your legs, his arms warm and clumsy around your waist. you’re scrolling through your phone, half-listening to him mumble, until he says it.

“would you ever… like… i don’t know. like a threesome?”

you turn your head. “with who?”

“me,” he swallows, “and chris.”

you blink. “your brother?”

“i mean—only if you wanted to! you don’t have to, like, it was just a thought i—i don’t know, i shouldn’t’ve said anything, it’s stupid—”

it takes another full week for it to become real. because matt is sweet and soft-spoken, because he second-guesses himself even while kissing your throat. but chris? chris is the opposite. cocky. unapologetic. he hears about the idea and shrugs like it’s already happening.

“you sure you can handle that, pretty girl?” he asks when matt brings it up again in front of him. you can’t tell if the question’s for you or matt.

they don’t rush. you thought it would be fast, wild, messy—but it starts gentle. because matt needs it to be. because he looks at you like you’re made of something delicate, and chris lets him take the lead even if he clearly wants to wreck you first.

you’re on the bed in matt’s room, soft light casting gold shadows over everything. matt’s mouth is warm on yours, tentative, like he’s still scared to do this wrong. chris leans against the door, arms crossed, watching like it’s a private screening.

“you okay?” matt whispers into your lips. you nod. he swallows again. “i just want you to feel good.”

his fingers are slow. familiar. they ghost over your skin like he’s mapping every breath, and when you arch into his palm, his eyes flutter shut. he doesn’t even realize chris is moving closer until you both hear his low laugh.

“you gonna keep her all night, or am i allowed to touch too?”

matt doesn’t answer. but he nods.

chris kisses you different. like he wants to leave a mark, make a memory, brand your body so you know the difference. his hands are everywhere—faster, rougher—and he doesn’t ask permission before sliding your legs apart and mouthing at the inside of your thigh.

“so fucking sweet,” he says against your skin, voice thick. “clearly you’ve got matt wrapped around your finger.”

matt’s behind you, holding your hand while chris works you open. his face is flushed pink, but his eyes never leave yours. he kisses your temple and murmurs, “tell me if it’s too much, okay?” he means it. he would stop. he would ask.

chris doesn’t stop. not unless you tell him to. and you don’t.

you’re on your hands and knees now, the room hazy with heat and sweat and low moans. chris is behind you—in you—and every stroke is deliberate, hungry. his grip on your hips is bruising, but it only fuels the slick heat building in your core. he’s got one hand tangled in your hair, the other spread across your lower back, pinning you exactly where he wants you.

“fuck, you feel insane,” chris groans, hips snapping forward, cock dragging against every sensitive nerve inside you. “makes snese why matt’s always so fucking whipped for you.”

matt’s in front of you, lying back on the bed, flushed and shaky, his thighs spread. his cock is hard and twitching under your tongue, every lick making him whimper. he’s got both hands on your head but isn’t guiding—just holding, grounding himself, fingers trembling as you take him deeper.

“baby,” matt gasps, eyes locked on yours, “fuck—you’re so perfect like this—”

chris thrusts deeper at that exact second and your moan vibrates around matt’s cock. his hips jerk, and he almost pulls away, but you keep him there, hollowing your cheeks, eyes watering with the stretch. spit pools at the corner of your mouth, your throat fluttering around him.

behind you, chris gives a dark laugh. “look at her,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “messy little mouth, taking him so sweet, dripping all over my dick. you like this, huh? being used by both of us?”

you nod, choked moan muffled by matt’s cock. matt’s already close—you can feel it, the way his thighs are tense, how his fingers twitch in your hair. but he doesn’t want to finish yet. he pulls out with a gasp, breathing hard, cock flushed and wet.

“wait,” he pants. “i want—i want to be inside you too.”

you barely have time to process before chris pulls out with a filthy smack and grabs your chin, turning your face up. he kisses you hard—rough, greedy—and tastes the salt of matt’s skin on your tongue.

“switch,” he says, low.

matt kisses your cheek as he guides you down to lie on your back, whispering your name like an apology. his hand strokes between your thighs, tender where chris was rough. he lines himself up and slides into you slowly, watching every inch disappear inside. your walls clench around him, slick and overstimulated, and he groans into your neck.

“still so wet,” he breathes. “you feel even better than i remembered—”

chris kneels beside your head, cock hard and leaking. he rubs the tip across your lips, and you open for him like instinct. his voice is a low growl. “yeah… just like that.”

matt moves gently, hips rolling slow and deep, hitting that spot inside that makes your breath stutter. he keeps one hand on your breast, thumb brushing your nipple, the other gripping your thigh to keep you open. his eyes are locked on your face—watching, memorizing every twitch and gasp as chris begins to fuck your mouth.

they don’t touch each other. (‘cause that’s fucking disgusting.)

but they both fuck you.

your body is shaking. your throat full. your cunt pulsing tight around matt as his rhythm stutters. he whispers your name again, voice breaking.

“i can’t—fuck—i’m gonna come—”

you pull back from chris, gasping for air, spit stringing from your lips to the head of his cock. your nails dig into matt’s shoulders and your hips arch up, crying out as he pushes in deep one last time and spills inside you with a trembling moan.

he doesn’t pull out right away. just stays there, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard.

“thank you,” he whispers. “i love you.”

chris chuckles low from beside you. “you done?” he asks matt, already fisting himself. “’cause i’m not.”

your eyes flutter open—exhausted, raw, but greedy—and chris catches your look and smirks.

“that’s what i thought.”

he flips you over like you weigh nothing, presses your face into the pillows, and fucks you so hard your voice breaks.

and still—matt stays close. holds your hand. kisses your shoulder. watches you fall apart again.

between them, you’re everything.

and you’ve never felt more wanted.

a / n . . . nothing to see here

#chris stuniolo x reader #chris sturiolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #fanfiction #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #fanfic #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #the sturniolo triplets p links #matthew sturniolo texts #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader

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strawberrystepmom · 2 days ago

Text

"Are you in love with me?"

Even though Dante is pretending to be asleep, curled over your back with a forearm thrown over you to pin your body against his chest, the cadence of his breath changes as soon as you get the words out.

It's like you caught one and stole it for yourself – not an uncommon occurrence.

The question lingers for a second. And another. Then a few more. Thankfully you abandoned shame in pursuit of love long ago, leaving you free from the burn of rejection or pain in case that’s what the silence means.

It also helps that you are confident this is not what his silence means.

You know he isn’t asleep, at least not all the way yet, but you can still practically feel the trepidation dripping from his fingertips where they skim your bare hip.

“Silly me, I know you’re asleep,” a featherlight lie drops from your lips.

He nearly exhales in relief, fingers relaxing against your skin. In response, you tense, back straightening and shoulders squaring.

“So, I’m going to say this while I still have the courage. I am in lo–”

Dante’s hand slides from your chest to your mouth, covering it gently.

“I am.” His disused voice rasps.

Pulling his hand down from your face, you pipe up. “You are…?”

“In love.” He kisses your temple for the briefest of seconds before lifting his chin to fully tuck his head beneath it, cradling you as though it’s what he was born to do. “Pathetically, stupidly, life changingly in love with you.”

Silence returns but your heart pounds so hard in your chest it echoes in your ears. You weren’t quite expecting him to drop the act entirely and fess up.

“This is, uh, harder than I thought it would be.”

Trying to lighten the tension, you clear your throat. “First time?”

He can’t see your cheeky smile but thankfully he can picture it.

“Yeah, actually. Never had any reason to say it to anyone else.”

What if your heart bursts? It feels like it may when you consider the implication of being the first woman he has loved aloud at the very least. Your clammy palms remain wrapped around his forearm, clutching him.

“You terrify me.”

Such a statement might not be the best method of diffusing the tension but he’ll try it anyway.

“That’s fascinating coming from a big bad guy like you.”

Chuckling, he tightens his grip around you. His chin drops to rest against your shoulder, voice loud and clear right in your ear. “Maybe I’m not as big and bad as I look, have you ever thought about that?”

Now it’s your turn to laugh, finally turning in his arms and slipping your calves between his legs. He can finally make out the smile you’ve been struggling to hide even in the dim light, his breath stolen once again.

“All the time, handsome.” You reach up to brush his mussed hair off of his face. “Alllll the time.”

“And it never makes you love me less? I mean, let me not get ahead of myself here – you do love me, right?”

“If you would have let me finish before playing the hero you definitely would’ve heard me say it the first time. But…”

You look away, a little flustered despite that abandonment of shame you were so proud of.

“God, yes. I think I’ve loved you since that first night, as insane as it sounds.”

Insane or not, he’s always felt it too.

“Oh, so that’s why you hid from me for two weeks after that?”

You roll your eyes, reaching behind him to pinch his thigh. “It was three and yeah, exactly. Now you’re getting the hang of things.”

Both of you devolve into a small fit of giggles, bodies rubbing together while sleepy laughter wracks your chest and shakes your shoulders. It dies down, the tension mostly dying with it.

Still, there’s just enough left that tells you he has more to say.

“Permission to be honest?” He asks, in a far smaller voice than usual.

“You have my permission to be anything, Dante.”

You can only hope he understands how true it is.

“You terrify me because I don’t think I would know how to live without you now that I’ve had the luxury of living with you.”

Smiling, you raise your eyebrows. “The luxury, huh? What a flatterer…”

“Hey,” he warns, capturing both of your hands in one of his and pressing your fingertips against his puckered lips. “You gave me permission to be honest, remember?”

Straightening up, you purse your lips and suck them inward, pretending to shut your mouth tightly. Your wide eyed stare makes it difficult for him to keep it together, a laugh on the precipice of his tongue. Somehow, he holds back, knowing that this is his chance.

“The luxury. The privilege. Whatever you wanna call it.” He continues, eyes soft despite the tense set of his jaw. “I don’t want to fuck it up or eventually make you regret ever signing up to be a part of this thing I call a life.”

The amusing expression on your face turns somber before his eyes.

“Do you want to know why I eventually gave up the whole running away bit?”

Feeling guilty for dampening the sweet mood, he opts to keep quiet and simply nods in response.

“Because I wanted to be part of your life. It’s not a thing, Dante - it lives and breathes and…it matters.” You smile, shaking your head. “Your life, you, us. It’s more precious than anything to me.”

“The only thing you could ever do to disappoint me would be to hurt me.”

“I wouldn–”

“I know. Not you, not ever. You’re not the type.” You crane your neck to kiss him. “Plus, I’m almost surprisingly hard to run off once I find somewhere worth being.”

“Then I really did get lucky.”

“No. You’ve just ended up where you’ve always been meant to be.”

#dante x you #dante x reader #whatever alejfawjdfoiawejflakwjdflwjfeoiwajflkwjedf #danken #kendall writes

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belli5 · 2 days ago

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Miss Cougar .ᐟ ೀWS²

╰ Synopsis An older reader falls for golden boy Will Smith, the younger hockey player who’s utterly devoted to her, soft, loyal, and eager to please. She didn’t mean to fall..but did.

Tags/contains Fluff, Will Smith x Older!fem!reader. Age gap(in my mind it’s two years), older reader, mutual pining, soft possessiveness.

➺ from Sera, to you 📨. Had too much fun with this lol😭

masterlist ᥫ᭡ please reblog this fic if you enjoyed it! Please do NOT rewrite/repost my work anywhere else without permission!

You were just doing your job, working PR, helping set up the media day table for the rookies, sipping lukewarm coffee and flipping through player bios like it wasn’t your fifth time memorizing their junior league stats.

But then Will Smith walked in, blonde hair a little messy like he didn’t even try, baby blue eyes scanning the room like he didn’t quite belong yet. His jersey hung a little loose on his shoulders, but there was an easy confidence to his posture that told you he knew exactly who he was.

Nineteen. Maybe twenty now, barely an adult. Way too young for you, and younger guys weren’t even your type.

You were twenty-two, barely older, sure, but the kind of older that makes you feel like a grown up next to a college freshman. He shouldn’t have even registered as a blip on your radar.

Except he did.

You were halfway through explaining to another staffer where to place the Sharks backdrop when he stopped in front of your table, holding a clipboard and grinning like he’d just won something. “You’re the PR person, right?”

You blinked. “I am.”

“I’m Will,” he said, like you didn’t already know. “Will Smith.”

The corner of your mouth tugged upward. “Yeah, figured that much. It’s on your name tag.”

He glanced down, laughed, boyish and unbothered. “Right, forgot I had that on.”

And just like that, you were sunk. Not all the way, just enough to start paying more attention to the way he said thank you, how he called you ma’am, how he kept stealing glances at you during the photoshoot like you wouldn’t notice.

You told yourself it was harmless. Just a crush—his crush.

He hovered near your table more than he needed to, always needing a new pen, or another form, or an excuse to talk to you about something completely irrelevant.

“Is it weird if I ask what coffee you’re drinking?” he asked once, resting his forearms on your desk like he belonged there.

“It’s not weird if you ask to get me one.”

He smiled. “Noted. I’ll bring you one next time.” And he did, for weeks.

Every morning of training camp, there was a new coffee sitting on your desk with a note scribbled in messy handwriting: “Hope this is the right kind.”,“You looked tired yesterday. (Not in a bad way.)”, “You smile more when you’re caffeinated.”

You kept the notes. That was the first sign you were slipping.

The second sign? You stopped saying “he’s too young” in your head.

You kept reminding yourself that he was younger, that he still said things that he saw on instagram reels or on tiktok unironically. That he didn’t even have a full grasp on how taxes worked, but then he’d smile at you like you were the only person in the room, or he’d ask how your day was going and actually listen and suddenly his age didn’t seem like such a big deal.

The first time he asked you out, you laughed.

Not because it was funny, but because it felt ridiculous. Like this golden retriever of a man thought he had a shot with someone who read financial reports for fun and had a skincare routine that cost more than any man would understand.

“You don’t actually want to date someone older,” you told him flatly.

He tilted his head. “Why not?”

“Because you’re still figuring yourself out. You’ve got.. things to do, a whole NHL career to build.”

He shrugged. “Can’t I do all that and like you at the same time?”

The worst part? He meant it. His voice was quiet, no smugness, no joking, just him looking at you with those wide blue eyes like you’d hung the moon.

You told him no. But you also told him, “Ask me again when you’ve made the roster.” It was a joke, you didn’t expect him to remember, but he did.

Two months later, after a Sharks home opener, you found him waiting in the hallway with two redbulls in hand and that same grin he always wore when he saw you. “So…” he said, holding one out. “I made the roster.”

Your stomach did a funny little flip. “That doesn’t mean anything,” you said, but your voice was softer than it should’ve been.

“Doesn’t it?”

You took the redbull, your fingers brushing his, and that was the third sign. The one that felt different than the rest.

Because you started to imagine it, what dating him might be like, what it’d feel like to kiss him, to pull him down by the collar of his jersey and have him say things in that voice that got a little raspier every time he was nervous.

You hated yourself for thinking about it. You hated even more that you started to hope he’d ask again, but he didn’t, not right away and that made you feel.. weird.

He gave you space, even when you caught him looking at you during team events, or cracking jokes that made you smile when you were trying to be serious. He never pushed, never got impatient.

That’s what got you, in the end. Not the hair, not the eyes, not the way he fit into his game day suit just a little too well, I mean that too but It was the way he respected your no, but made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere.

It was when the new season just had started, two months ago.

You were organizing interview slots at the practice rink, annoyed at everything and running on four hours of sleep. Will had just finished morning skate and walked over, towel around his neck, cheeks flushed from the cold. “You okay?” he asked, nudging your elbow gently.

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “Just tired.”

He didn’t say anything just grabbed the clipboard from your hand, squinting at the slots like he could actually help. “You forgot to schedule yourself a break,” he said.

“I don’t get breaks,” you muttered.

“You do now.” And then, God help you, he pulled out some candy he had from his jacket pocket and handed it to you without fanfare.

Like he knew you hadn’t eaten, like he’d planned for this exact moment, it wasn’t a lot, but it’s the little things that make you happy. “You’re ridiculous,” you mumbled, trying not to smile.

He bumped your shoulder lightly. “You’re welcome, ma’am.”

That was the fourth sign, which you didn’t even pretend to hate it.

It didn’t start with fireworks.

There was no dramatic kiss in the rain, no impulsive declarations. Just a quiet evening, two texts exchanged, and the simple moment when you looked at his name on your screen and realized, yeah. You wanted to see where this could go.

He picked you up two days later.

He was wearing a navy sweater that clung to his arms just enough, jeans that still had a fold line like they were fresh out of the dryer, and that nervous little smile that tugged at his mouth whenever you looked at him too long. “I wasn’t sure if you’d actually say yes,” he admitted, holding the car door open for you.

You’d smiled back, the corner of your lip quirking. “I wasn’t sure either.” But you went and then you went again and before long, it became something regular, easy and surprisingly solid.

No one said “boyfriend” or “girlfriend” for a while, but he started showing up with your favorite drinks, started memorizing every single detail, started pulling you gently into his lap during movie nights like he couldn’t help it.

You didn’t mean to fall for him, but he made it impossible not to.

Now, a few weeks in, you were curled on your couch, legs draped over his lap, flipping through a book while he scrolled through his phone like he didn’t have a single worry in the world.

Will’s hand rested on your thigh absentmindedly, tracing slow circles with his thumb over the fabric of your shorts. His eyes were on his screen, but he’d tilt his head every few minutes like he was waiting for you to tell him to do something, like he wanted you to.

You weren’t used to that, someone listening without being told twice. Someone who liked being told what to do, in a way that wasn’t needy, just.. eager.

“Can you get me a water?” you asked, without looking up from the page.

Will was already halfway to the kitchen before you finished the sentence. He came back, twisted the cap off, and handed it to you like it was nothing, like it was normal to treat you like this.

You took a sip and raised an eyebrow. “It’s cold. You picked from the back of the fridge.”

He gave a crooked smile, scratching the back of his neck. “Didn’t think you’d want a warm one.”

“Thank you, baby.” you said, letting your fingers brush across his jaw before going back to your book.

He flushed just a little and you saw it. The power you had over him was almost criminal. Not because you tried, God, no. But because he gave it so freely, because something in him liked it.

You kept reading for another minute, pretending not to notice how quiet he’d gone. Then, without warning, you shifted your legs, straddling one of his thighs and settling in like it was your seat.

Will froze under you for a second. Then relaxed, like he always relaxed under you. Your hands found the collar of his hoodie, playing with the soft hem near his collarbone. “You’re not going out with the guys tonight?” you murmured, feigning casual.

“Don’t want to,” he said simply. “Want to stay here, with you.”

You bit your lip. “You always listen this well?”

His hands landed on your hips, light and respectful even though he clearly could’ve pulled you in harder if he wanted. “Only for you, ma’am.” he said, barely above a whisper.

You didn’t react right away, just let it hang in the air, warm and heavy between you both. You weren’t even sure he realized he’d said it, sometimes it just slipped out of him, like instinct.

You trailed your fingers down his chest and sat back just slightly. “You know you don’t have to call me that,” you said softly, not mocking, just observing.

“I know,” he replied, eyes dropping to your mouth. “But I like it.”

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sowerpatch · 2 days ago

Text

terms of play [chapter 7 - in transition]

Summary: Azzi Fudd built the Golden Valkyries on a dare, but drafting Paige Bueckers was all strategy. Fresh off an NCAA title, Paige is everything the team needs—and everything Azzi shouldn’t want.

Officially, it’s all business. Unofficially, it’s glances that linger too long and touches that mean too much.

Author's note: this is an AU where Azzi owns the Golden State Valkyries and drafts Paige. Azzi's family are all original characters. Also, Azzi is three years older than Paige.

*CHAPTER LIST HERE*

Chapter Summary: Paige and Azzi said it was over.

Boundaries drawn, feelings shelved, rules in place. But with every game, every glance, every unexpected moment off the court, the line gets harder to hold. They agreed to stop, but how long can they mean it? Word count: 5,577 Author's note: first, I'd like to thank everyone for reading this fic. i'm overwhelmed but very happy with the comments, messages, and reactions. i didn't know a lot are reading this nonsense, but thank you! second (and you may not want to hear this), i may not update for a couple of weeks. i am going on a trip so i'm not sure i'll be able to do so. i hope you'll still want to read this if it's not frequently update until third week of july. third (if you're also reading my other on-going), unfolded will be updated but i also apologize it will not be that frequent due to the same reason above. thanks for supporting and reading my works.

Fudd Holdings, San Francisco. May 2025.

The sky outside her windows had settled into its noon haze, but Azzi hadn’t looked up from her desk in hours. Her monitor cast a soft glow across the dark wood, spreadsheets opened and minimized in equal measure. Her fingers hovered over the trackpad, scrolling through a document she had already reviewed twice that morning.

The knock on her door was brief. Nika stepped in without waiting for permission, balancing a takeout bag and two bottled teas in her hands.

“I know you didn’t eat again,” Nika said as she shut the door behind her. “And I’m not letting you call a candy bar lunch.”

Azzi sat back in her chair, one brow lifting. “You’re persistent.”

“I work for a woman who hasn’t taken a real lunch break in ten days,” Nika replied, placing the food down. “Persistent is the bare minimum.”

Azzi didn’t argue. She slid the papers to the side and reached for the tea, unscrewing the cap but not drinking yet. Across the desk, Nika opened the takeout containers with practiced ease.

“How is your WNBA team?” Nika asked without looking up. “Season started last week.”

Azzi didn’t flinch, though the pause before her answer was longer than usual. “Lisa’s handling things,” she said. “It’s her role as general manager, and she’s doing it well. I step in only if I'm needed.”

Nika glanced up, reading more than what was said. “Good for her but that’s not the same as you supporting them.”

“I’m busy.”

“With what?” Nika didn’t soften her tone. “All deadlines are in. Contracts are locked through next quarter. We’re ahead of schedule with every major client. Even your advisory meeting next week was rescheduled by you.”

Azzi set the tea down, untouched.

“You’re not too busy to show your face at a home game, Azzi. And neither the team nor the city thinks you’re invisible. So if this is about being busy, I don’t buy it.”

Azzi held her posture, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the window. But the pause spoke more than anything else.

Nika watched her for another beat before easing back into her chair, unpacking a fork from its wrapper.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” she said. “But don’t pretend like this is just scheduling. You’re not fooling anyone.”

The room stretched between them, filled with paper, food, and the weight of everything unspoken.

Azzi finally reached for the container, though she still hadn’t eaten a bite. Her voice stayed level, careful. “Lisa knows what she’s doing.”

“Sure,” Nika said, spearing a piece of grilled chicken. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t still look for you.”

- Valkyries Headquarters, San Francisco. May 2025.

Practice was nearly over, but Paige hadn’t slowed once. She moved through the drills like they were personal, like every missed shot meant something more than just another rep. Her jersey clung to her back, soaked through from the effort. While the rest of the team eased off, she kept pressing.

“Okay, Paige, you trying to earn Finals MVP in practice?” Kate called, grabbing a towel from the bench.

Paige gave a quick laugh. “Just keeping sharp.”

Kiki, lounging near the sideline with her water bottle, chimed in without lifting her head. “If this is about Rookie of the Year, relax. I’m not trying to take it from you.”

“I just want to do well. Don’t want to let the team down.”

Kate tossed her towel over her shoulder and walked past. “You’re not. We’ve got your back. So maybe stop trying to bleed for every drill.”

Paige nodded, but she didn’t stop. She didn’t even look toward the locker room when the others started filing out. She stayed at the three-point line, adjusted her stance, and kept shooting.

The gym thinned out, noise fading as bodies left the floor. Lights still buzzed overhead. The sound of the ball hitting the rim echoed louder in the emptying space.

One more shot. Then another. She moved like she could outwork the ache settling deep in her chest.

Barclays Center, Brooklyn. June 2025.

The arena buzzed with rising energy. Lights swept across the court, catching on polished shoes and tailored jackets. Courtside filled with the usual rotation of executives, celebrities, and carefully groomed donors.

Azzi sat quietly among them, legs crossed, her posture composed. Ines sat on one side, Tony on the other. Neither drew attention.

Three nights earlier, New York liberty owner, Clara Wu had attended the foundation’s gallery fundraiser uptown.

Toward the end of the event, in the space between polite farewells and final handshakes, Clara had asked if Azzi would be attending the Liberty vs Valkyries game. It hadn’t sounded like pressure, but Azzi understood the subtext. Clara rarely asked for anything directly.

Azzi had smiled and said yes. She didn’t want to appear distant or detached, not while her team was in town, not so early in the season. By the next morning, Ines had secured the only tickets still available.

Courtside, unfortunately.

Across the floor, the Valkyries were already deep in warmups, moving through drills with controlled intensity.

Paige stayed near the top of the arc, locked into rhythm, her eyes focused straight ahead. If she noticed Azzi’s presence, she didn’t show it. The game had turned brutal in rhythm and pace.

The Liberty held a five-point lead, and the crowd rode every possession like a wave, roaring with each defensive stop and every made shot. Bodies hit the floor more often now. Elbows flared. Timeouts were used sparingly.

Paige moved with urgency. Her focus locked on the ball like nothing else existed. Sweat clung to her temples, her movements crisp and tight, no motion wasted.

When a tipped pass ricocheted off a defender’s arm and spun wildly toward the sideline, she didn’t hesitate.

She dove.

The hardwood scraped beneath her as she slid forward, arms reaching, hands wrapping around the ball just before it could bounce out of bounds. But her momentum kept going. Her body skidded past the line, straight toward the courtside seats.

She crashed at Azzi’s feet, shoulder brushing against her legs before she caught herself.

“Shit—sorry,” Paige breathed, looking up. Her voice came low and rushed, all heat and adrenaline.

Azzi’s eyes met Paige’s, calm and unreadable.

For a second, the noise in the arena blurred behind them.

Then the whistle blew. Paige scrambled up, tossed the ball to a teammate, and jogged back onto the court.

Azzi didn’t look away right away. The faint trace of contact lingered in her skin. But her face gave nothing back.

- Team bus on the way to the airport, New York. June 2025.

The internet had caught fire.

Clips of Paige diving out of bounds and crashing at Azzi’s feet spread across every platform.

Slow-motion edits looped the way Paige looked up at her, the brief glance that passed between them, the stillness of Azzi’s expression.

Screenshots froze the frame at just the right second, turning a routine hustle play into something cinematic.

Fans called it poetic. Dramatic. Predictable in the way only stories you couldn’t write better in fiction tended to be.

“This is gay history,”

“She literally landed at her feet. You cannot make this shit up.”

“It’s giving princess and her knight,” another caption declared beneath a still of Paige on the floor, Azzi seated above her, untouched, statuesque.

#ValkyriesCourtship alongside #PrincessAndTheHooper trended before the fourth quarter highlights even aired.

Even sports media picked it up. A panel segment ran on afternoon television, showing side-by-side clips with commentary that couldn’t resist the subtext.

ESPN headlined it “better than anything on Netflix.”

Paige had seen enough of it by the time she reached the team bus. Her phone hadn’t stopped buzzing, but she left it face down on the bench.

Kiki had sent her the clip with three crying emojis and “Oscar-worthy fall.”

Kate pulled up another edit as she sat beside Paige, this one layered with a ballad and a dramatic fade to black.

“You good?”

“It was just a save.”

“Sure. You threw yourself at the sideline like a knight charging into battle and landed at Miss Fudd's feet like you meant to bow.”

Paige adjusted her hoodie without answering.

Behind them, Kiki laughed.

“She’s blushing.”

She didn’t turn around. If she was, she wasn’t giving them the satisfaction.

The Venetian Resort, Las Vegas. June 2025.

Las Azzi stared at her calendar, one hand pressed to her temple, the other resting over her laptop’s trackpad. The confirmation email sat open in front of her, clear as day.

She leaned back slowly in her chair, eyes narrowing.

There was no way this wasn’t deliberate.

The Valkyries were playing the Aces. In Las Vegas. Tonight. And somehow, despite the number of ways she had tried to avoid repeating last week’s coincidence, here she was again. Same city. Same schedule. Same team.

She remembered Nika casually handing off the file three days ago. Something about a last-minute scheduling conflict, how the developers were pushing for face time, how it made sense for Azzi to take. At the time, it hadn’t sounded strange.

Now it did. Another email which held two tickets to the game had found its way to Azzi. Right.

It wouldn’t look good if she didn’t show up to the game. Not when people knew she was in the city.

If Nika and Ines had planned this, they weren’t going to admit it. But Azzi knew them both too well.

She should have seen this coming.

Michelob ULTRA Arena, Las Vegas. June 2025.

The game was tight. The Aces pushed in transition, fast and aggressive, but the Valkyries kept pace, sharp in their switches and relentless on the glass. The score stayed close, every possession carrying weight.

Azzi sat still through it all. Close enough to feel the vibrations under her heels. She didn’t react. Didn’t lean in. Just watched.

Paige was everywhere. Fighting through screens, calling switches, sinking shots like she was burning through something no one else could see. She didn’t slow down. She didn’t ease up.

When she hit a three just outside the arc, her eyes searched briefly beyond the baseline.

Azzi met the look.

The moment was brief. The game pressed forward.

The Venetian Resort, Las Vegas. June 2025.

The machine clinked quietly as Paige pressed the button again. Lights blinked. Nothing hit. She reached into the cup and slid another coin in.

The Valkyries had pulled off the win. A tight, scrappy six-point finish that left the Aces frustrated and the bench breathing hard.

Paige had smiled when she needed to. Nodded during the interviews. Let her teammates pull her into the photo. But once it was done, she slipped out early and didn’t look back.

She found herself now hunched at a forgotten corner of the casino floor, staring through the slot machine like it owed her an answer she couldn't phrase.

A pause behind her, then Azzi’s voice.

“You know I’m not paying you to lose your money on a stupid machine.” Paige slid in another coin and pressed the button, not bothering to turn around. The reels spun and missed again.

“I know you’re ignoring me,” Azzi continued. “And I deserve that. But I wanted to say congratulations. You were great tonight.”

Paige’s eyes stayed on the machine. “Hm, ‘s that all?” Azzi wanted to say more. To sit down, to explain, to ask for something she hadn’t figured out how to name yet.

She stood there for a moment, unsure if she should say more or walk away. The noise around them was constant—machines whirring, voices rising and falling, the usual chaos of a casino floor. It wasn’t the right place for this type of conversation. “Yes. Have a good night, Paige.”

Azzi moved through the casino without looking back, weaving past clusters of tourists and cocktail servers until she reached the elevators.

One had just arrived. She stepped inside, pressed her floor, and leaned back against the wall as the doors began to close.

A hand shot through at the last second.

The doors jerked open.

Paige stood there, a little breathless, eyes steady. She stepped in without asking and let the doors slide shut behind her.

“D'you already have dinner?”

Azzi shook her head.

Paige glanced at the buttons, then back at her.

“Wanna order room service with me?” -

The coffee table was a mess of wrappers and half-crumpled napkins. Paige leaned back into the couch, one leg tucked under the other, working through the last of the fries like it was a timed competition.

Azzi watched from the armchair, equal parts fascinated and horrified.

She had offered a quiet space for their impromptu dinner since Kiki was already asleep in Paige's room.

Paige had inhaled three burgers in under fifteen minutes and was now making quick work of the fries without so much as a breath.

Azzi reached for her untouched sandwich, glanced at it, then looked back at Paige.

“Do you want mine too?”

Paige didn’t even pause. “What is it?”

“That was sarcasm.”

“You’re gonna need to be more specific if food’s involved.”

Azzi shook her head, sinking deeper into the chair. “I’m genuinely alarmed.”

“You’ve seen me play,” Paige said through a mouthful of fries. “How is this surprising?”

“You didn’t unhinge your jaw during the game.”

Paige grinned, tossed a fry in the air, and caught it with her mouth.

Azzi sighed and reached for the water bottle on the table but didn’t drink. Her gaze lingered on Paige, still working through the fries like nothing in the world could distract her.

“You’ve been playing really well lately,” she said. “The last few games especially.”

Paige slowed her chewing just a little. “Oh.”

Azzi smiled.

“I mean, thanks. I didn’t know you were watching.”

There was a pause. Azzi could have let it pass, could have deflected or changed the subject, but the quiet between them felt too close to something real to lie through.

“I haven’t missed a game,” she said. “Even if I’m not there, I watch. Every one of them.”

Paige blinked, then looked down, a trace of pink blooming along her cheeks as she reached for another fry she clearly didn’t need.

Sitting with her hands loosely clasped in her lap, Azzi’s eyes fixed on the untouched sandwich beside her. The weight between them had been there the whole night, carefully unspoken, but now it pressed harder, closer. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “For what happened. For how it happened. It wasn’t fair to you. If I could take it back... I would.”

Paige didn’t answer right away. She wiped her hands clean with a napkin, taking her time, then leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees.

“I don’t regret kissing and making out with you that night,” she said.

Azzi finally looked at her.

“I only regret putting you in a position. You were already carrying too much, and I pushed you when I should’ve backed off. That’s on me.” Her voice dropped. “I’m sorry for that.”

Azzi shook her head slowly, the words already forming before Paige could say anything more. “No. Paige, I was the one who kissed you.”

“And I kissed you back.”

Azzi looked away, lips pressed together for a moment before she spoke again.

“I let my emotions get the best of me. That night... I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“That’s exactly my regret,” Paige leaned back slightly, eyes holding firm. “I didn’t stop to think what you were going through. I shouldn’t have let it go that far when I knew you weren’t steady.” She stood up abruptly. “God! Azzi, you just had to deal with your brother that night and all I could think was myself and my stupid ego.” Azzi’s brow lifted, disbelief flickering across her face.

“You’ve really been carrying this like it’s on you?”

"Well...”

Azzi motioned to the couch. “Sit down.”

Paige hesitated but did as she was told, settling into the cushion with a quiet breath.

“Listen,” Azzi started, her tone even but not cold. “I don’t know why you’re blaming yourself, but don’t. And if it makes you feel better, I appreciate your thoughts about me. It’s been a long time since anyone’s cared enough to think about what I’m feeling.”

She paused, eyes fixed forward.

“But I’m not going to lie. We’re re-opening something we shouldn’t cross again.”

Paige sat still, her body tight, listening.

“We started on the wrong path, Paige. And if we keep walking it, it’s going to lead both of us somewhere we won’t come back from. Whatever this was, we can’t keep going. There’s too much at stake. Not just for me. For you too.”

Paige kept her gaze on the floor, jaw tight. The words weren’t new. Not really. She had imagined this conversation too many times—Azzi choosing control over closeness, reason over feeling. But now that it was happening, the actual weight of it pressed in deeper than she expected.

She had been holding on to guilt, turning it over in her head like a stone she thought she could smooth down if she just kept at it long enough. But hearing Azzi say it out loud, the finality of her tone, made it clear that nothing she’d been carrying would change the ending.

Still, it stung.

It stung to be told they had started on the wrong path when it had been the only one that felt right.

She nodded slowly, barely.

“Okay,” she said, though it didn’t feel like one.

Valkyries HQ, San Francisco. May 2025.

The Valkyries were rolling. Eleven wins, three losses. The best start of any expansion team in league history. Their chemistry was sharp, execution cleaner with every game, and the league had started paying attention.

Paige was a headline regular now. Her stats held weight, her plays made highlight reels, and the noise around her name had shifted from hopeful to certain. Rookie of the Year wasn’t just possible—it was probable.

All-Star voting opened with her name already at the top of the ballots.

She felt it, the momentum. The lift of it. Practices ran smoother, her body felt lighter, even the travel days didn’t drag.

But that talk in Las Vegas hadn’t left her.

Azzi hadn’t shown up to a game since. Not once. Not even for the home stands.

The gym had emptied out over an hour ago, but Paige was still there, catching her own rebounds, the steady rhythm of the ball echoing through the quiet space. Her body moved on instinct—one dribble, two, rise, release. Net. Repeat.

She wasn’t tired. Not enough to stop.

The sound of the door clicking open didn’t pull her attention right away. Only when footsteps drew closer did she finally glance toward the baseline.

Azzi stood just inside, arms crossed, the faintest trace of something amused in her voice.

“Practice ended a while ago. If you’re staying this long, I should start charging you gym maintenance.”

Paige caught the ball and held it. Her breathing slowed as she turned to face the person living rent free in her head for the past couple of months.

She let the ball rest against her hip, then spun it slowly in one hand.

“I don’t want to slack,” she said. “We’re on a five-game win streak. Last thing I need is my boss getting mad I’m not putting it all out there.”

She looked up, a flicker of something teasing behind her eyes.

“Last I heard, she never misses watching our games.”

Azzi scoffed, stepping forward without hesitation. She plucked the ball from Paige’s hand like it belonged to her. “You really think flattery’s going to make me overlook the fact that you’re hogging the gym?”

Paige grinned and walked backward toward the free throw line, holding out her hand, shrugging. “If I said I was staying late to honor the legacy of the franchise, would that make it better?”

Azzi turned the ball slowly in her hands. “It might make it worse.”

Paige laughed, stepping back with a bounce in her step. “I’m just trying to keep the lights on. You know, making sure your multi-million dollar floor space stays in good use.”

“I should charge you rent.”

“Add it to my contract,” Paige said, motioning toward the court. “Tell you what. You make one shot, I’ll clear out.”

Azzi tilted her head. “You think I’m just going to embarrass myself for your amusement?”

“I think you’re dying to see if you can make one,” Paige said, voice low and teasing. “Come on. You’re standing on the floor of your own team’s gym, and you’ve never even taken a shot?”

Azzi stared at her for a long second, then shook her head and let out a sigh.

“You’re relentless.”

Paige grinned and walked toward the free throw line, tossing the ball up and catching it. “One shot. I promise I won’t tell the world. Unless it’s perfect.”

Azzi followed her slowly, arms folded.

“This is ridiculous.”

“This is team bonding.”

“You’re not my team.”

“I’m your headache. Close enough.”

Azzi let out a breath, finally taking the ball back. “Fine. But I’m blaming you when this ruins my reputation.”

Paige stepped in, already adjusting her grip. “If anything, this is gonna make it better.” Azzi stared at the hoop like it was challenging her. She adjusted her grip on the ball, stepped awkwardly toward the free throw line, and squared her shoulders like she had watched athletes do a hundred times from the sidelines.

She launched.

It left her fingers too flat, spinning awkwardly in the air before clanking off the front rim and bouncing back with a dull thud.

Paige bit her lip, then broke into a jog to chase it down before it rolled out of bounds.

“That was…” She paused, dribbling the ball once. “A very brave attempt.”

Azzi crossed her arms, unimpressed. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it.”

“I’m not.” Paige grinned. “I’m saying you’re clearly an expert at hitting the exact part of the rim that guarantees it won’t go in.”

She walked the ball back, but instead of handing it over, she stopped in front of Azzi and held it with one hand. Her voice dropped, softer this time, and something in her face shifted.

“Let me show you.”

Azzi hesitated, watching her closely. There was no mocking now. Paige’s grin had settled into something quieter. Not serious, but careful. Like she was trying not to move too quickly through a moment that meant more than it should.

She nodded once.

Paige stepped closer, placing the ball in Azzi’s hands again, but this time kept hers there too. She adjusted Azzi’s grip gently, her thumbs brushing over Azzi’s knuckles.

“Right here. Let your shooting hand sit under the ball. Other hand just helps guide it.”

Azzi didn’t look at the hoop. She looked at Paige. Their hands were tangled around the ball, Paige’s fingers warm and steady. Close enough to feel her breath when she spoke again.

“You don’t need to force it. Let it roll off your fingers. It’s about rhythm. Trust.”

Azzi swallowed hard.

“Trust the shot?”

Paige’s eyes met hers. “Trust yourself.”

The gym felt too quiet. Just the creak of sneakers on polished wood and the low hum of lights above. Paige stepped behind her, setting her palms lightly on Azzi’s elbows, guiding them into position.

“Bend your knees a little. Keep your elbow under the ball.”

Azzi followed. The motion was stiff, but she listened.

Paige leaned in, voice at her ear. “Now lift it slow. Let it go at the top.”

Azzi raised her arms and released. The ball floated, not perfect, but cleaner. It hit the backboard and bounced toward the rim before falling away.

Better.

Azzi turned to look at her, something flickering in her eyes. Not frustration. Something else. A heat she didn’t name.

“That was almost good,” Paige said.

“Almost?”

“I think you need another lesson.”

- Paige’s apartment, Oakland. June 2025.

The apartment was dark except for the soft glow of Paige’s phone. She was sprawled on the couch, one leg tucked under her, the other stretched toward the armrest. Her hair was damp from a shower, and there was a half-finished protein shake on the coffee table.

Her thumbs tapped quickly.

Paige: You looked good last night. Paige: But I still think your hair looked better during draft night.

She attached a photo.

It was Azzi, polished and poised, walking into a real estate conference. Hair pulled back in a sleek twist, dressed in a charcoal pantsuit that made her look every inch the power executive Twitter loved to obsess over.

Azzi: Where did you get this?

Paige answered before the read receipt even registered.

Paige: Internet. You’re famous, remember?

Azzi exhaled through her nose, typing slowly.

Azzi: Are you stalking me now?

Paige: Maybe. Paige: Just enough to form an opinion about your hairstyles.

Azzi: And here I thought you were too busy chasing Rookie of the Year.

Paige: I multitask.

Azzi sat up straighter in bed, the corners of her mouth betraying the start of a smile.

Azzi: You really liked my hair that night?

Paige: I like a lot of things when it comes to you. Paige: Want a list?

Azzi hesitated.

Azzi: I’m scared of that list.

Paige: You should be. It’s long.

Azzi: Paige.

Paige: Azzi.

Azzi: I thought we weren’t doing this.

Paige: You texted back. Paige: So maybe you’re doing it too.

There was a pause. Paige watched the typing bubble appear and disappear three times. Then finally:

Azzi: Goodnight, Paige.

Paige stared at it. Then sent one more message without thinking.

Paige: I still like your hair better down.

She set her phone down beside her, the softest grin tugging at her mouth as she leaned back into the couch.

While Azzi lay still in the dark, phone on her chest, heartbeat louder than it should be. She didn’t reply again. But she didn’t stop reading it either.

Rocco's Cafe, San Francisco. June 2025.

The clink of glass against ceramic filled the space between them. Afternoon light poured through the tall windows of the restaurant, the kind of place Nika always picked—unassuming, elegant, with an outdoor view that cost more than it looked. Azzi sat across from her, shoulders relaxed, her phone turned face down for once.

Nika stirred her espresso, eyes flicking to the plate Azzi had barely touched.

“Westlake signed,” she said. “The rezoning permits came in yesterday.”

Azzi nodded, lifting her glass. “Good. I want the contractors briefed by Friday. We’ll reroute phase three if they can’t break ground in time.”

“They will.” Nika took a sip, then leaned back in her chair. “What about the Dallas project? Still holding?”

Azzi glanced past her toward the window. “We’re waiting on final numbers. But I’m not rushing that one. The board will push if I give them a reason.”

A beat passed, comfortable and slow. Nika tilted her head, her voice quieter.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine?”

“You’re more than fine.”

Azzi looked at her confused.

Nika smiled, sharp but kind. “You’ve been smiling. Laughing. You even left the office before seven last week.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, daring Nika to continue.

“You’re glowing.”

She shook her head, but her mouth twitched like it wanted to smile.

“And forgive me, but I have a feeling Jake’s not the reason.”

Nika lifted her cup with a knowing tilt, like she was letting Azzi keep her secret while quietly reminding her it wasn’t all that well hidden.

- San Francisco International Airport, San Francisco. June 2025.

Azzi reread the message from the Valkyries’ training staff, the words sharp in their precision.

Concussion protocol.

Paige had been pulled from practice following a hit during the game against Indiana two nights ago.

Azzi had watched that game from a bar in Dallas, her tablet propped up between half-finished cocktails and development briefs. The meeting with local contractors had stretched past dinner.

Her flight home today was late and quiet, and somewhere over the Rockies, exhaustion claimed her.

The message hadn’t registered until she was standing outside Terminal 2, luggage beside her, the San Francisco air cutting through her blazer. She scrolled absently while waiting for the car.

Another text sat beneath the first.

Let us know if you’d like to see the medical report.

She didn’t reply right away. Headlights pulled up. The town car stopped cleanly at the curb.

She typed her reply.

Not necessary.

Tony stepped out, moved to the trunk. Azzi got in without a word. The door closed with a soft click, and the city hummed low around them.

She stared straight ahead. Thinking. More thinking. “Tony, we’re making a detour.”

- Paige’s apartment, Oakland. June 2025.

Paige blinked, hard, like it would help make sense of the shape in front of her.

Azzi stood at the doorway, calm as ever, hair tucked neatly behind one ear, as if she belonged there. She hadn’t called. Hadn’t messaged.

And now Azzi was stepping inside like she hadn’t just knocked a minute ago, like being let in meant she belonged there.

Paige raised an eyebrow. “You know, knocking doesn’t mean you get to just walk in like it’s your office.”

Azzi took two more steps in, ignoring the comment entirely.

“You’re in concussion protocol,” she said. “I got the update this morning.”

“I—what? Wait, how do you even—” Paige closed the door slowly. “You’re not even on the medical distribution list.”

“I don’t need to be.”

“Okay. Cool. Great. Love the vague billionaire surveillance energy,” Paige muttered. “That’s definitely what every injured rookie wants.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, unbothered. “I didn’t hack into anything, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Paige snorted. “You didn’t have to. One look from you and half the staff probably tripped over themselves to send an update.”

“I asked, they answered.”

“Right. Because that’s totally normal. Just your average team owner flying across the country to check on a player with a bump to the head.”

“I’m not your average team owner,” Azzi’s gaze didn’t waver. “And it wasn’t just a bump.”

Paige’s breath hitched before she could hide it.

She tried to mask it with sarcasm. “So what now? Are you here to run your own tests? Gonna flash a penlight in my eyes, ask me who the president is?”

"Would you answer if I did?”

“Depends,” Paige said, voice lower now. “Are you gonna tell me why you really came?”

Azzi didn’t look away. “Does it matter?”

“It does if you want to keep pretending this is just about basketball.”

“Paige.” “Azzi.”

Azzi exhaled, slow and tired. “I was worried.”

Paige stepped closer, the tension in her shoulders softening as she reached out and cupped Azzi’s face with both hands.

“I’m fine,” she said gently. “You don’t have to worry.”

Azzi didn’t answer. Her eyes stayed on Paige, and before she realized it, she was leaning into the warmth of that touch, drawn by something quieter than reason.

Paige moved in without rushing, her hands sliding down until they rested on Azzi’s waist. She pulled her in, carefully, like she didn’t want to spook her. Their bodies met in a slow, steady hold.

Azzi let herself be held.

“Didn’t we agree we need to stop this?” Azzi’s voice was soft, but the weight behind it settled between them.

"I only agreed half-heartedly.”

Azzi rolled her eyes and gave her a light smack on the arm. Paige caught her wrist before she could pull away, grinning.

“Let’s just have this night, please.” Paige said, voice lowered to something more honest. “We don’t have to do anything. I miss you.”

There was a pause, then a quiet mumble from Azzi. “I miss you too.”

Paige wrapped her in a hug, slow but firm, the kind that said more than words could carry. She held Azzi tightly, grounding herself in the contact, in the relief of having her this close again.

“How was your flight?” she asked after a moment, still not letting go.

Azzi answered once they finally pulled back, their fingers laced. “Long. Delayed twice. I hated every second.”

“Stay the night,” Paige said without thinking.

Azzi blinked. Her body stilled. “Paige—”

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Paige added quickly. “We both need rest. That’s all. Just... don’t leave.”

Azzi hesitated for only a beat, then reached for her phone. She typed out a message to Tony to go home without her.

Paige disappeared for a moment and came back with a folded UConn sweatshirt and matching joggers. “You’ll look better in these than I ever did.”

Azzi gave her a look, took the clothes, and changed in the bathroom. When she emerged, the room was dim, Paige already under the covers.

She climbed in, the air between them thick with hesitation. They left a small space between their bodies, but not for long.

“Come here, ma,” Paige said, voice almost teasing.

Azzi didn’t bother pretending. She folded into Paige’s side, resting her head on her shoulder.

“I’m only doing this because of your concussion protocol,” she murmured.

Paige laughed, the sound low and grateful. “If it means I get to have you like this, I’ll bang my head every day.”

Azzi let out a quiet laugh of her own, her breath brushing against Paige’s neck.

Paige pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you for coming. And for checking on me.” “We’re so bad at stopping this.”

#paige bueckers #paige buckets #paige x azzi #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #pazzi fic #pazzi #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fanfic #uconn wbb #azzi fudd fanfiction #azzi fudd #pazzi fics #terms of play series

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formulafanfics13 · 14 hours ago

Text

The Podium Princess - MV1, PG10, LN4, LH44, CL16, OP81 🔥

masterlist

Request

They called her the trophy. Not to her face, no one was that bold, but behind closed doors, in locker rooms and paddocks, in late-night strategy meetings when the real prize had already been won. Not points. Not podiums. Her.

She wasn't a model. Wasn't PR. Wasn't on payroll or affiliated with any team. No last name in the paddock. No title. Just her. Always in the right place at the right time. Always watching. Always waiting.

There were rumours. That Toto had hired her. That Christian had tried to. That she'd once broken Max in two and left Lando shaking. That Lewis kissed her ankle after Japan '21 and whispered something in her ear that made her cry, and still came first the next weekend.

She never spoke publicly. Never posted. Never smiled for the cameras. But after every race, every time the confetti hit the air, she was already waiting. The three podium finishers. Gold, silver, bronze. First, second, third.

They knew what came next.

She was the reward. The ritual. The tradition unspoken but carved into the sport. And every man on the grid wanted to earn her.

She was already waiting in the suite. Monza's podium had ended hours ago. Champagne sprayed, interviews given, suits half-unzipped and post-race high still vibrating in the air. The hotel room, booked before the race even started, was lit with soft amber lighting. Warm. Clean. No cameras.

And she was on her knees. Naked. Waiting. The door opened. Max stepped in first. Always. His footsteps were slow, measured. Calm fury. Gold medal draped around his neck, champagne still lingering on his throat, jaw clenched.

He didn't say hello. He never did. He just walked to her, grabbed her chin, and tilted her head up. "You watched?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Who did you want to win?"

"I I wanted you to-"

"Good."

He dropped his hand. Unzipped. Let his race suit hang at his waist as he stared down at her. Cold eyes. Hot rage. "You'll thank me later for making sure they didn't get first."

She didn't ask who they was. Because Charles and Lando were behind him.

Charles closed the door gently. Shrugged off his jacket. Smiled. Soft and unbothered. Lando was already panting. Hands in his curls, pacing like he couldn't wait another second. Silver medal hanging crooked against his chest.

"You looked so pretty in the paddock," Charles murmured. "You wear that dress for us?"

She nodded. "For the podium."

"Our podium," Max snapped.

"Only ours," Lando added quickly.

She tried to speak again, but Max stepped forward and grabbed her hair. "No talking unless we tell you."

She whimpered.

Charles walked behind her and trailed his fingers down her spine. "You're shaking already, bébé. You want us that bad?"

"She's wet already," Lando said, crouching in front of her. His fingers dipped between her thighs without permission. "Fuck. She's dripping."

"Because she knows what she's here for," Max growled.

"She's a toy," Charles said softly. "Not a girl. A reward."

Lando moaned. "She's our reward."

Max grabbed her by the throat and pushed her down. "Open your mouth."

She did. Fast. Eager.

"God, she's trained," Charles muttered.

Max shoved his cock past her lips without hesitation. "Not gentle," he snapped. "She doesn't deserve gentle. Not after watching them on the podium too."

Tears welled in her eyes as Max fucked her mouth, fast, deep. His hand never left her hair. Her throat burned. Her hands shook. She moaned around him like she liked it.

Behind her, Charles was spreading her knees wider. "She's shaking," he said. "Look at her, Max. She's falling apart already."

Lando sat on the bed, stroking himself slowly, watching them with glazed eyes. "Can I have her mouth next?" he asked, desperate.

"You can have whatever's left of her," Max grunted.

He pulled out, her spit glistening on his cock. Her jaw ached. Her eyes were already ruined.

"Up," Charles said. "Hands on the bed."

She obeyed. Still silent. Still their toy.

Lando moved behind her, guiding himself into her mouth with shaky fingers. "God-fuck-she missed me."

Max stood behind her now, staring down at her ass, the way her body trembled. "She's not ready for both."

"She'll take it," Charles said calmly, dragging a hand through her hair. "She always does."

Max pushed inside. No warning. No gentleness. She screamed around Lando's cock. She was full. Too full. One in her mouth. One in her cunt. Body caught between them, stretched and used.

Charles sat beside her head, petting her hair. "That's it, sweetheart. Let the podium take its prize."

"She's mine," Max growled.

"She's ours," Lando gasped, fucking her mouth harder.

"Don't come yet," Charles said softly. "She hasn't even begged."

Max slapped her ass. "Beg."

She moaned. Tried. Choked.

"Beg."

She sobbed. "Please-use me-need you-want to be-your prize-your toy-please-please-"

"That's a good girl," Charles whispered.

They fucked her harder. Tears ran down her face. Her body shook. They didn't stop. Because she was theirs. And they had earned her.

She didn't know how long she'd been on her knees. Couldn't remember how many times she'd moaned, how many times Lando had kissed her cheek and whispered "good girl" while fucking her throat like he couldn't breathe without it. Her body was shaking. Fucked open from behind, stuffed full in the front. Every nerve fried.

But it wasn't over. Not even close. Because Max, still behind her, still deep inside her, pulled out just long enough to grab his phone from the bedside table. And pressed record. "Keep her still," he snapped at Charles.

Charles leaned forward immediately, one hand in her hair, the other around her waist. "Open your mouth wider," he whispered against her ear. "Max wants a good shot."

She tried. Gagged. Lando groaned. "Fuck, that's it. You're so fucking pretty like this."

Max stepped back, phone tilted slightly down. The screen lit her up. On all fours. Face soaked. Lips wrapped around Lando's cock. Ass red. Pussy dripping. Her whole body shaking like a ruined toy. And that's what Max wanted to remember.

He circled them, slow, camera rolling. "Look at her," he muttered. "Taking it like she was made for this. Like her only purpose is to be fucked by the podium."

"She's better than a trophy," Lando said, fucking her mouth deeper. "Trophies don't cry."

"She lives to cry for us," Charles added, kissing her neck.

She moaned around Lando's cock, a wet, broken sound.

Max reached around, spread her ass with one hand, filmed her pussy stretched open, slick and swollen. "Say it," he growled. "Tell the camera whose you are."

She choked. Could barely breathe.

Charles whispered in her ear again. "Go on, ma belle. Tell him. Say you belong to the winners."

She sobbed. "I-belong-to the podium-only-the podium-please-"

Max groaned. "Fuck, she's perfect."

He tossed the phone on the bed, still recording, still angled perfectly, and slammed back into her. She screamed. The force knocked her forward, throat tightening around Lando's cock. Lando let out a strangled moan, both hands gripping her hair now.

Charles slid in front of her again. "Too much?"

She shook her head, tears spilling.

"Good," he said, kissing her forehead.

Max was relentless. Deep, brutal thrusts. Skin slapping. Filthy sounds echoing in the room. "Gonna come in her," he grunted. "She'll feel it for days."

"Not until I do," Lando panted.

"She'll take both," Charles murmured. "She always does."

Lando came first. Deep. Loud. Hands fisting in her hair. She gagged as he spilled down her throat. He moaned her name. Said "thank you" like she was something holy.

Then Max. He didn't warn her. Just shoved in harder, filled her up, grabbed the phone again to record her shaking body as he came. Pressed the lens to her back, her ass, the mess dripping out of her. "She's mine," he said.

And Charles? Charles pulled her up by the throat, kissed her mouth full of Lando's come, then whispered in French, something filthy, something possessive, and came all over her chest, groaning as she collapsed in his arms.

The three of them stood there. Breathless. Spent. She was twitching on the bed. Mouth open. Eyes half-closed. Body leaking from both ends. The phone was still recording. And Max was still smiling. "Podium earned."

Japan was quiet. Until it wasn't. The hotel suite had been prepared hours before the checkered flag. Same champagne chilling in the bucket. Same lighting. Same velvet chair in the corner for watching. Same bed in the middle of the room. And her. Already on her knees.

Hair brushed. Skin lotioned. Collar on. Nothing else. Her body was still sore from Monza. Still marked from Charles' teeth, from Max's fingers. Her throat had healed. Her thighs hadn't.

But she was here. Because they'd won her. Again. Max entered first. As always. He didn't greet her. He never did. Just walked straight to her, gripped her jaw, tilted her face up to inspect her. "You missed me?"

She nodded, lips parted.

"Show me."

She leaned in and kissed the tip of his cock through his race suit. Once. Twice. Reverent.

He smiled. Cold. "Good girl."

Then Lewis walked in. And everything changed. Because Lewis wasn't Max. He didn't need to speak first. He just walked to the window, took off his jewelry slowly, placed it on the dresser one piece at a time. Watched her reflection in the glass. "She looks nervous," he said calmly.

"She should be," Max replied, already undoing his zipper. "She's got a lot to take tonight."

Then Pierre. Bronze. Third. First time on the right side of this room. He stopped at the door like he'd walked into a dream. "Fuck," he whispered.

She turned her head, eyes locking with his. Wide. Wet. Waiting.

"She's beautiful," he breathed. "You weren't exaggerating."

"She's better than beautiful," Max said, walking behind her. "She's obedient."

Pierre stepped closer. Crouched in front of her. Reached out, hesitated. "Can I-?"

"She's yours," Lewis said, finally turning around. "For the night, she belongs to us."

Pierre's hand touched her face. Soft. Awestruck. "She's warm," he whispered.

Lewis moved behind her. "She's always warm for winners."

Max was already stroking himself. "Let's show him how it works."

They guided her to the bed. Pierre sat at the edge. She crawled between his legs like instinct. Mouth open. Max climbed behind her, spreading her thighs wide. Lewis stayed by the dresser. Watching. Unbuttoning his shirt with slow precision.

"Go ahead," Max told Pierre. "She'll take you."

Pierre moaned the moment she wrapped her lips around him. "Jesus Christ."

"She's good," Max said, lining himself up. "But she cries better."

And then he was inside her. Rough. Deep. Immediate. She gagged around Pierre's cock. Her knees buckled.

Lewis walked to the side of the bed and leaned down. "Don't stop."

Her eyes were already wet. Pierre had his hands in her hair. "She's- fuck- she's tight."

"She's always tight," Max groaned, thrusting harder. "I ruin her and she still grips like it's her first time."

"She's making noise," Lewis said, kneeling beside her. "Open wider."

She tried. Moaned. Shook. "Good girl."

Max grabbed her hips and pulled her back harder. "She'll come just from being used like this. Watch."

Pierre looked like he couldn't breathe. "She's taking both of us..."

"She can take three," Lewis murmured. "Kiss her."

Pierre leaned in, kissed her mouth between thrusts. "You're so fucking good."

Max was panting now. "Touch her clit."

Lewis reached down, found her swollen bud, and rubbed slow circles. She screamed.

Pierre moaned. "She's gonna-fuck-"

"She's allowed," Lewis said. "Let her come for us."

She came hard. Loud. Her whole body trembling as Max didn't stop. As Pierre fucked her throat like it was the only place he wanted to live. As Lewis kept his finger on her clit until her hips jerked from the overstimulation.

And still, none of them stopped. Because the podium never finishes first. She wasn't speaking anymore. Not because she wasn't allowed. But because she couldn't. Her voice had cracked an hour ago.

Her mouth was raw from Lando. Her cunt was swollen from Max. Her whole body was shaking, red, marked, pulsing with every heartbeat. And she was still taking them. Because it was Suzuka. And the podium hadn't finished.

Pierre had just come in her mouth. Soft moans. Apologetic hands. A trembling thank you like he didn't know what else to say.

Max had pulled out mid-fuck just to smear himself across her back, panting curses in Dutch, promising to do it harder next time.

But Lewis? Lewis hadn't even started yet. He stood by the bed like a king waiting for silence. Shirtless. Calm. Gold chain still hanging against his chest. His hand stroked his cock slowly, not because he needed to, but because he liked making her wait.

Pierre sat back in the velvet chair, legs spread, shirt undone. Watching her like art. "She's perfect," he whispered. "You were right."

"She's not perfect," Max muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed, still breathing hard. "She's ours."

Lewis finally spoke. "Lift her."

Max grabbed her under the arms. Pierre moved to help, hands gentle even as she whimpered. They laid her flat across the bed. Back arched. Arms above her head. Legs trembling, spread.

Lewis stepped between them. Looked down. "Been a while, huh?" he murmured, rubbing her clit with two fingers. "Last time was Spa. You remember?"

She nodded. Barely.

He slid two fingers in. She cried out. "So tight," he said. "Still greedy after all that cock."

Then, without warning, he pushed in. All of him. She screamed.

Lewis didn't flinch. Didn't slow. "Deep breath, baby."

He started to fuck her slow. Deep. Deliberate.

Max stroked her cheek, watching her cry. "She loves it."

"She was made for it," Lewis said, thrusting harder. "A hole for winners."

Pierre swallowed hard. "Can I... try her again?"

Max laughed. "Not like that."

Lewis grinned, pulled out. "Flip her."

They moved her like a doll. Onto her stomach. Ass up. Face pressed into the sheets.

"Ever done both at once?" Pierre asked.

Max smiled. "Of course."

Lewis got on the bed behind her. Lined up again. "Hold her mouth open," he said.

Pierre moved in front. Palmed her cheek. "You ready?"

She nodded.

"Good girl."

And then, both.

Lewis pushed into her cunt. Pierre pushed into her mouth. She choked. Moaned. Cried. Her body shuddered.

"Holy fuck," Pierre gasped. "She's, Jesus-"

Lewis grabbed her hips. "Take it."

Max stood behind them, filming again. "Look at this fucking mess," he muttered. "All for us."

Pierre fucked her mouth faster. Lewis hit deeper. Harder. She came again, screaming around Pierre's cock.

"God- she's coming again-"

"Let her," Lewis growled.

She collapsed. Legs shaking. Body twitching. And Lewis didn't stop.

"Gonna come in her," he said. "She needs to feel it."

Pierre moaned. "Me too- fuck- I'm-" He spilled in her mouth. Groaned like he couldn't believe it. "She swallowed-fuck-thank you-thank you-"

Lewis came inside her seconds later. Gripped her hips like he was claiming her. "Stuffed," he whispered. "You're full, baby."

She moaned into the sheets. Boneless. Gone. And the podium? Satisfied. For now.

She was already panting when the door closed.

Qatar heat still clung to her skin, sweat slick between her thighs. The podium had finished late, media delayed them, the champagne sticky on their suits, but the minute the suite door shut, everything changed.

Lando threw his medal on the floor. Oscar locked the door.

Lewis didn't speak. He just walked to her, slow, controlled, and touched her chin. "You look nervous."

"I-I'm okay," she whispered.

He tilted her face up. "You remember what happens when you lie to me?"

She swallowed.

Oscar sat on the edge of the bed. "She's shaking."

Lando was already shirtless, pacing like a tiger. "She knows what's coming."

Lewis smirked. "Then let's get started."

She was naked in minutes. Bent over the bed, arms stretched forward, thighs open. Lando already between them, two fingers buried in her soaked pussy, grinning like it was Christmas. "She missed me," he muttered. "She's soaking."

"Because she's ours now," Oscar said, sliding behind her, kissing her spine. "She knows who she belongs to."

Lewis sat in the chair. Watching. Palming himself through his trousers. Calm. Calculating. "She's been good," he said. "Let her come once."

Lando immediately curled his fingers up. Oscar pressed against her from behind, whispering filth in her ear. "Come for the podium, baby."

She did. Hard. Loud. Her knees buckled. Her voice broke. And then, the tone shifted.

Lewis stood. Walked behind her. Touched the small of her back. "You ready for more?" he asked.

She nodded. He kissed her temple. "Good. Because tonight, we're using your ass."

She froze.

Lando moaned under his breath. "Holy shit, are we really?"

"She's ready," Lewis said. "We've trained her. She's taken us all. It's time."

Oscar kissed her shoulder. "You trust us, don't you?"

She whimpered. "Yes."

"Then breathe," Lewis whispered. "And stay still."

They took their time. Not out of kindness, out of intention. Oscar was the first to prepare her. Lube. Two fingers at first. Then three. Slow, slow, slow. She cried into the sheets, thighs shaking.

Lewis whispered by her ear. "Don't hold your breath, baby."

She exhaled.

Oscar twisted his fingers. "She's so tight."

"She's never been taken there," Lando said, climbing on the bed beside her. "Let me have her mouth."

"Take it," Lewis said. "She can multitask."

She opened for Lando automatically, gagging around him as Oscar worked deeper behind her. And Lewis? Lewis knelt beside the bed, fingers stroking her spine. "Good girl. Keep breathing."

She moaned around Lando's cock.

Oscar pulled his fingers out. "She's ready."

And then Oscar pushed in. Her body arched. She screamed around Lando.

Lewis held her down. "Shh," he soothed. "You're okay. Just breathe. That's it. Let it burn."

Oscar didn't stop. Thrust deeper. Slower. "She's fucking incredible," he muttered. "She's squeezing so tight."

Lando fucked her throat harder, watching her tears spill. "She's crying."

"She's allowed," Lewis said. "She's being broken in."

Oscar groaned. "She's taking all of me- fuck-"

Lewis leaned in and kissed her lips, just beside where Lando's cock split them open. "You're perfect," he whispered. "Our little slut."

Oscar's pace picked up. Lando came in her mouth, deep, loud, moaning her name. Then Lewis climbed on the bed behind Oscar. "Move," he ordered.

Oscar pulled out, just long enough for Lewis to shove in, harder. She screamed again. Her whole body writhed, shaking violently.

Lewis grabbed her throat. "Breathe."

She gasped. Choked. Came again, ruined. Lewis didn't stop.

"Now you belong to all of us," he growled.

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onyxluvjiro · 1 day ago

Note

PLRASE PLEASE PLEASR PLEAE PLEASE PLEASR PLEAE PLEASE PLEASR PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE MORE MAC SMUT HEADCANNONS AND MAYBE A TOUCH OF DIALOGUE THANK YOU SO MUCH UR WRITING IS PEAK 🥺🥺🥺🥺✌️✌️

shout out to @veryfruitywriting they wrote a headcannon on mac and the online underwear scene cause, it’s got me thinkin real hard, and i wanna delve down into it.

and i KNOW mac has a thing for lingerie, i know it. And their a pantie sniffer, i KNOW it.

reader is afab/has female genitalia !!

—

You had a plan, it could go completely wrong or, perfectly right. You wanted to show off that sexy pair of panties to Mac, tease them a little bit, with how much the two of you flirt back and forth, you were sure it would go perfectly as planned.

Starting a casual conversation with mac was an easy enough task, step one of your plan, done. And as you talk, you uncross your legs, spreading them, ever so slightly, making Mac’s eyes frantically glance up and down.

You were sure their cpu was starting to overheat, a flush crossing their face, but you were far from finished. Pretending to glance back at what you were doing earlier, you “accidentally” lift your skirt further, finally revealing the red lacy fabric adorning your body.

You could hear a choked noise come from Mac, their eyes burning holes into the fabric adorning your most private parts. Your eyes dart to Mac’s face, an immediate satisfaction crossing your face as you practically see them malfunction for a moment.

It takes a second for Mac to realize that you were in fact showing off that pretty pair of panties that you had bought, on purpose, the same ones Mac had complemented you about. And now they were seeing it, on your body.

You could hear the crackle of their brain frying. They of course teased you the other day about it, but never did they think, their human would be so bold.

“Oh my goodness. I was right, they look stunning on you.”

They manage to say after a few moments of silence.

“want to see them closer?”

—

And that’s how you ended up standing in front of mac, their fingers pressed against the fabric, teasingly tracing up and down the folds of your pussy through the fabric, ever so lightly, watching your facial expressions with innate satisfaction. They pull their fingers away from the fabric for a moment, only to look at their fingers in fascination.

A string of slick, your arousal coating the tip of their fingers. They glance from you and to their fingers, back up at you, a silent ask for permission. With a nod of your head their hands wrap around your thighs, pulling you in closer.

Mac is a certified panties sniffer cause once they get a wiff of your cunt, they can’t get enough. mouth latching to the fabric resting right where your clit is, sucking on the fabric and what’s underneath.

Once they finally get their lips on you , oh it’s over for them. A new addiction started as they lap at you through the fabric, the stimulation almost too much, the combination of mac’s soft and hot tongue versus the rough fabric against your skin has you reeling. Hands tangled in their hair, keeping them there, exactly where Mac wants to be.

It’s not until you feel a cord wrap around your thighs do you really realize how deep mac is into it, and how far gone they are. You squirm, but the cord holds you in place along with Mac’s hands.

It wasn’t until your first orgasm did mac pull your panties to the side, the excuse of getting closer, to taste more slipping from their mouth as they latch back onto your clit. they bully their tongue deep into your cunt, a wire finding its way to rub against your sensitive bud.

You realize how fucked you are, but at the same time you’re just as into it as mac is, you don’t want to stop just as much as mac doesn’t either. Not until they’ve had their fill. And maybe, just maybe, mac pocketed those panties for a little while. And maybe, you let it happen.

—

Mac i am just a dog WOOF WOOF

also to the person i @ ed, if you want me to take you off/take down the post cause i wrote smth similar to your post, i will! I want everyone to be comfortable with my posts 😵‍💫😵‍💫

#date everything smut #date everything mac #date everything x reader #date everything #mac date everything

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rainrot4me · 3 days ago

Note

Okay hear me out what kinks would the creeps have 🤔

✦ . jeff the killer

Degradation + Biting

Jeff gets off on power and chaos—so you better believe he enjoys hearing you beg, cry, and call him names. He wants you a mess.

“C’mon, say it again—call me a monster. You like it when I ruin you.”

Also: He bites. Deep. Playfully or not. If he draws blood, he considers it a job-well-done.

✦ . ticci toby

Overstimulation + Praise

Toby’s love language is praise when he’s not killing. He needs to hear you want him, over and over. He loses his mind if you beg him to keep going, digging his feet and going as hard as he can. All just to hear your approval.

“You’re takin’ it so good, s-sweetheart… shit, I didn’t think you’d last this long.”

✦ . eyeless jack

Body Worship + Control

Jack is surprisingly reverent. He likes the science of you—how your body reacts, what makes you tremble. He’ll pin you down and take his time, running over every square inch inside and out. Whatever makes you squeal is what he takes notes on.

“You’re beautiful when you fall apart like this. Slow down now, let me make you feel good.”

✦ . masky (tim wright)

Rough Sex + Ownership

Tim’s possessive in bed—he needs to claim. Nothing soft. He grabs your throat just to feel your pulse and squeeze the air out of your lungs. When your body is completely limp and eyes are rolling back, he really gets into you.

“Mine. You got that? Say it.”

Also: Gets off on you being fully clothed while he’s dry humping you. It’s the anticipation and desire to be inside of you, but making you cum in your underwear first that makes him feral.

✦ . hoodie (brian thomas)

Power Exchange + Silent Dom

Brian doesn’t talk much during sex, but his touch commands. He likes obedience—not because he demands it, but because you give it. It’s his touch and whispers against your neck that have you falling to his every whim, not any stern words or threats.

“Good girl,” murmured low, quiet in your ear while he ruins you slowly.

He’s the type to make you ask permission to cum.

✦ . kate the chaser

Spanking + Domme Energy

Kate likes control and isn’t shy about taking what she wants. She gets off on watching you obey—even better if you’re defiant first. Any excuse to grip you by the back do the neck and lay you over her lap is a good one.

“Don’t act innocent now. You wanted to be punished.”

Wields a knife and a strap equally well.

✦ . ben drowned

Teasing + Remote Control

Ben’s all about games—he’ll tease you for hours, hack into a vibrator, send you risky messages during work. He loves watching you squirm. Keeping that little pulsing bullet inside while you try and speak, yeah.

“Try not to moan, cutie. Everyone’s watching.”

✦ . clockwork

Switching + Knife Play

Natalie loves both topping and being thrown around. Knife against the throat? Yes. Letting you ride her while she moans your name? Also yes. Sex with her is always a dramatic rollercoaster of emotions and strength.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll leave a mark—but only where no one else can see.”

✦ . laughing jack

Fear Play + Pet Names

He lives for fearplay—light sadism, psychological teasing, and whispering filthy things through a grin. He’ll chase you through the woods, sneak around corners and pin you against walls, anything to get your heart beating out of your chest.

“You look scared… Don’t worry, doll. I’ll be gentle. Ish.”

✦ . slenderman

Mind Control + Tentacle Play

Slender’s kinks are cerebral, surreal—he gets inside your head. He makes you want it. Elegant, controlling, utterly overwhelming. Anything that has your mind pulsing along with your insides If your eyes are glassy and your mouth can hardly shut, he’s satisfied.

“You were made for this. Made for me.”

꩜ .ᐟ

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sturniqlo · 1 day ago

Text

matt and darling go to a wedding

pairing: shy!matt x shy!reader

summary: matt takes darling to his cousins wedding, meaning she'll be meeting his extended family

cw: anxiety, fluff

an: i missed my favorites (also, i changed matt's parents' name) this fic takes place when darling and matt have been dating for almost a year

masterlist | shy!matt x shy!reader | taglist

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

"well, what about this dress?" darling nervously bites at her bottom lip as she holds up a light pink dress to her body. matt, who's sitting on her looks at the dress and nods. "it's pretty—" matt begins to say, but she cuts him off. "ughh, but it kinda looks like it's white!" she groans and tosses it to the dress pile that has begun to form on her floor.

"matt, i don't think i can go." she pouts and crawls into his lap. "why not, darling? all of those dresses were beautiful, and would look even more beautiful on you." he pulls back to look at her face and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "but they're not the dress, babe." her eyes begin to gloss over. "hey, hey, hey. it's okay, yeah? i really want you to go, but if you don't feel comfortable i won't force you." he kisses her forehead. "no, no, i really do want to go. but, i— ughh. i hate this!" she groans and throws her face into his neck.

"look at me, darling." he says softly. "hm?" she hums and pulls away, the pout still on her face and matt just wants to kiss it off. "let's keep looking, yeah? you've got so many other pretty dresses." he pats her hip. "okay, you'll help me, right?" she toys with the necklace on his chest that matches hers. "of course i will." he finally pecks her lips.

after many more dresses and a couple of tears shed, darling and matt finally chose the dress. it was a simple sage colored silk dress. it accentuated her curves and made her eyes pop. matt threw his suit on once she had started on her hair and makeup, "baby, what shade would look better? this one? or— this one?" darling held up two tubes of lips gloss. "umm," matt looked at one bottle first and then her lips, and then the dress and did the same for the next bottle. "that one." he point to the right one.

once they were both ready to go, darling grabbed her shoulder bag and threw in a few makeup supplies, gum, and her phone. "ready?" matt came up behind her and hugged her waist, kissing her cheek. "mhm, i'm ready." she smiled at him. "you look really good in this." she said, turning around to face him, and she gently tugged on the jacket. "thank you, darling. you look very gorgeous."

in the car, matt's hand was on her thigh for the whole hour and forty minute drive to the wedding venue, which happened to be on his grandparents' land. and from the pictures matt had shown her, it was absolutely beautiful! when matt's dad had asked matt's grandpa for his permission to marry his daughter, obviously he had said yes, and he built the barn like reception building for her. and since then, every wedding in matt's family was on his grandparents' land.

and for a second, darling imagined if her and matt's wedding would be there as well.

"pretty, we're here." darling felt a series of kisses planted on her cheek and nose. she squirmed in her seat and opened her eyes to see matt standing next to outside of the car. "we're here?" her voice full of sleep. matt chuckled. "mhm, and we're a bit early, too. not many people here yet." he said, as she unbuckled herself and stretched. once she stepped out of the car, she looked around the makeshift parking lot, which was just gravel and supposedly the driveway from what matt had told her, and there were less than ten cars.

"i think they're still setting up." matt closed the door behind her and grabbed her hand as he led the way. "are your parents and nick 'nd chris here, yet?" she asked since she didn't see the family car in the lot. "yeah, they are. their car is just pulled up to the barn since my mom brought some decorations." he swung their hands. darling looked around the land and noticed the house nearby, another mini house which matt had told her was used as storage, and towards the end near a small pond was the barn. outside of there were chairs set up and a makeshift arch filled with flowers. it was very beautiful.

"it's cute around here. did you spend a lot of time here?" she asked him and they continued their slow walk. "mhm, me, chris, nick, and the rest of our cousins liked to spend our summer here. there used to be a tire swing over by that tree," he pointed to a tall tree near the barn. "but, my cousin, rick, he pushed chris too hard that the rope ripped. we were all like fifteen when that happened and grandpa didn't wanna fix it anymore, said the tire was too old already. but when my older cousins started having kids, he put a new one in and reinstalled the old playground too."

she smiled at the thought that matt's family was huge and all very close with each other. darling has never really experienced such a bond with her extended family. both pairs of her grandparents had unfortunately passed away in her early years of life. and her most of her aunts and uncles had problems with her parents, meaning she also had no close bond with her cousins. however, she had two loyal aunts, one on each side, who she'd see often and hang out with those cousins. "that's so sweet, babe." she grinned up at matt who blushed.

once they reached the barn, matt's mom and dad were both coming out at the same time. "hey you two!" matt's mom, kate, gasped when she saw her son and daughter-in-law, she loved to call darling that. "hey, mom." matt gave her a hug. and matt's dad, mark, came up to you and hugged you. "hey, kiddo." he said to darling. "hi mark, looking fancy." darling said as she pulled away, and kate came right away to her and hugged her. "you two look very fancy as well." mark said to both darling and matt. "kate, you look amazing! i love this color on you!" darling complimented her as mark and matt went into their own conversation. "really? thank you, hon! i tried something new! but look at you! you're so gorgeous, darling!" darling was pulled in for another hug.

kate and mark had to run into the main house for a couple of things leaving darling and matt alone again— just for a couple of seconds until they both heard chris' call out. "look at mr. fancy pants over here!" chris said as he and nick approached the two to them. "shut up." matt mumbled. "and mrs. fancy dress over here." chris said giving darling a side hug and then matt. "girl, you look so good!" nick said her giving her a hug.

nick and chris eventually went their own ways when they saw two of their cousins, which darling has met before when the group had gone bowling during spring break. "is that my matt?" darling and matt heard a voice. the both of them turned around as it was an older woman. "grandma!" matt said, a grin appeared on his face. from what matt told darling, he was the closest one to his grandma. "oh wow, this must be the girl you've been gushing about!" his grandma, alison, smiled at you. "oh she is, this is darling! darling, this is my grandma!" he introduced the both. "hello, it's nice to meet you." darling said shyly, sticking out her hand, but alison chuckled and pulled her in for a hug.

"it's nice to finally meet you after all this time!" alison said. "i've heard so much about you, darling." she said once they pulled back and darlings face was blushing. "matt, have you shown her around the land?" alison asked. "somewhat, just the barn as of now. i'll probably show her later during the party." alison hummed at matt's answer. "well, it was finally nice to meet you, but i've gotta check on bridezilla and make sure she hasn't pulled at anyone's hair." the three of them laughed and alison waved goodbye. "she was so sweet, i see why you're so close to her." matt blushes once more. "you did so great, darling. i told you everything was going to be fine." he places a kiss on her forehead.

since the ceremony wasn't for another hour, matt decided to show her around the land more since they had time. "i'd show you the main house, but i'm pretty sure it's hectic in there right now with everyone getting ready. so, let's go to my favorite part." matt held her hand and walked her to a small bridge that was over the small pond. "oh, this is cute!" darling gasped when she saw how decorated the pond was and how there was fishes in the pond as well. "yeah, my grandpa come out here every morning to feed 'em and add some more decorations my grandma finds." matt leaned against the raining. "it's my favorite spot because you can see everything from over here, but it's also kinda hidden."

"how often would you come to the bridge?" darling ran her hand up and down his arm. "literally everytime i would come over and stay the night. if i were staying for the summer, i would come here for an hour. grandma says that when nick, chris or any of my other cousins would ask for me, she would say im in my 'matt hour' and to leave me alone. they'd never listen and come bug me anyway." he chuckles at the memories and wraps his arm around her waist. "how're you liking it so far? i know you haven't met many people." matt presses a kiss to her hair.

"i like it here, actually. it's very pretty and peaceful out here. and i'm still kinda nervous to meet others." she looks up at him. "well, my grandma loves you already, i'd say you'll be fine." he smiles.

when the guest began to start arriving and taking their seat in the rows, darling and matt had ventured to get a good spot. on the way there, darling met matt's grandpa, paul, and all of matt's older cousins along with their spouses and children. and luckily, the meetings had all went very well. when the two got seats, darling let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in. "you okay?" matt draped his arm over the back of her chair. "mhm, just happy everything is going well so far, everyone is so nice. especially your grandparents, i see where your dad gets it from." matt nods. "all you have left are a few cousins, and my aunts and uncles."

the ceremony was absolutely beautiful, that darling shed a few tears during it. matt's cousin, marley, looked like a princess in her white wedding dress. darling just loves love. during the ceremony she didn't meet anyone else as they were sat next to matt's parents and brothers and family that belonged to the groom, which meant matt didn't know who they were either.

the guest had made their way into the barn as marley and the bridesmaids went back into the main house so she'd change into her reception dress. "that's is our table over there—" matt's hand was on darlings lower back when someone called out matt's name. "matt, long time no see." it was matt's uncle, bryan, who was also the brides dad. he was standing next to his wife giselle, the mother of the bride. "is this who i think it is?" giselle gasped.

darling had the first and only girl matt has ever brought to meet the family. when the word had gotten around that matt was seeing darling, it came as a shock to everyone because he had never dated anyone. "guys, this is my girlfriend, darling." his hand sat on her lower back. the conversation was cut short due to the dj announcing that the newlyweds were about to make their entrance.

sometime during the reception, darling got up to get a refill on her drink when someone tapped her shoulder. she turned around and saw that it was marley, the bride. "darling right?" she said. "yeah, yeah that's me." darling said shyly. "oh wow! it's so nice to finally meet you." she pulled her in for a hug. "it's nice to meet you too, you're wedding is so beautiful. you looked so pretty in your dress." darling told her. "thank you so much! i'm so glad you were able to come with matt! the whole family has been dying to meet you, darling!"

matt soon came out of the bathroom and spotted darling and marley right away. darling looked to be comfortable in the conversation with his cousin, so he decided to head back to their table and not interrupt the conversation. soon, darling returned with a soft smile on her face and a refilled cup in her hand. "saw you with marley," matt started and rested his arm on the back of her chair. "how was that?" he asked, rubbing her shoulder. "it was good, and like everyone else she was really sweet." darling rested her head on matt's shoulder.

"told you, you had nothing to worry about. i think i've talked about you enough that they didn't even have to meet you to love you." he kissed her hair. "thank you for bringing me here."

"of course. i brought you to meet the rest of my family because i believed and you are forever. you're stuck with me now." he smiled.

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freakthatdoesthewriting · 3 days ago

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💌 — Changing Yourself?

Hector / Gn Reader ; fluff , dying your hair , curious hector , worried hector , post love route with hector

Type — Drabble ; Inspired by me starting at the vent above my head in our bathroom when i was dyeing my hair

Not proofread! Sorry for any mistakes

——————————————————————

“What are you doing?” A familiar, concerned, voice came from above your head. Eyes and hands poked out from the air vent above your head, and despite the intrusion, you gave Hector a bright smile.

“Dying my hair.” You said simply, turning to look at him more comfortably.

“But… Why?” He sounded concerned and confused, like he truly couldn’t fathom why you’d be doing this. You didn’t think he didn’t understand the concept of dyeing your hair though, just why you specifically would be doing it.

“I just felt like a change.” You smiled at him but he didn’t even seem to register.

“B-But! You don’t need to change! Why would you ever need to change, your perfect as you are…” His voiced raised just enough for you to see how concerned he was.

It wasn’t that Hector was against change, it was scary to him yes, but he understood it had to happen, what he was against is the idea that you had to change yourself. The thought that you felt the need to change, when he saw you as something so perfect as you are made his heart break.

You gave him an affectionate look, heat rising to your cheeks at his admission of finding you perfect. It was so Hector to be caught up in something like this.

“It’s not like that, Hector.” You started, thinking of the best way to word your thoughts.

“I wasn’t unhappy with the way I looked before, I just thought it would be fun to do something different.”

Hector paused, fiddling with his hands in thought. The silence worried you, and without thinking you spoke again.

“Will you feel differently about me if i change…?”

Hectors eyes widened and he literally jumped out of the vents so he could see you face to face.

“Mi Amore, changing your looks would never make me feel any differently about you. You are… You… and as long as you’re still you my love for you will only continue to grow. Nothing in this world could change that.”

He reached out for you but stopped before he touched you, silently asking for permission to hold you, to feel you. You grabbed onto his hand and moved it to your face, making sure to steer him clear of your hair. He caressed your cheek ever so gently, and you both sat there quietly for a moment, basking in the comfort of each other.

“Why were you so quiet before…?” You asked hesitantly.

Hector looked away, like he was ashamed, but he quietly answered you. “Truthfully… I do not like change… It scares me. What if something goes wrong, what if this small change leads to something bigger, what if the changes take you away from me…”

You laughed, not in a mocking way, in a gentle affectionate laugh.

“Nothing could take me away from you Hector.”

“You promise…?” His eyes were pleading, desperate to hear you say the word.

“Promise.” An affectionate smile spread across your face as his relaxed for the first time since he showed up.

You brushed your knuckles against his cheek, a gentle, affectionate gesture. He gave you an awkward smile, but his eyes were filled with love and adoration that was unmistakable.

“Do you want to keep me company?” You asked.

Hector beamed and nodded his head. The rest of the time was spent enjoying each other’s company. Hector even helped you rinse the dye out of your hair. And he was honored to be the first to see it, and the first to say how stunning you looked too. Who knows, maybe one day Hector would let you dye his hair.

#writing #fanfiction #x reader #x gn reader #character x you #date everything #date everything game #hector date everything #date everything hector #date everything x reader #date everything x gn reader #date everything x you #hector x reader #hector x gn reader

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uncannyalien · 21 hours ago

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YES I AGREE I HAD A WHOLE RAMBLE ABOUT THIS LEMME FIND IT

She's significantly smaller than all the other Diamonds and supposedly weaker. All the other diamonds are a significant color, either white comprising all colors or yellow and blue which are primary. The only other primary color would be red, but she's *pink*.

But the Diamonds for sure couldn't say that one of their flawless diamonds was off color, so they kept face while treating Pink like a plaything. She had no actual authority, her activities were primarily entertainment, she was more of a little kid to them.

Like the way the Diamonds treat Pink and Spinel are so similar. It seems as long as it's pink, small, and entertaining they dont give a fuck.

Her design is so much like a jester. The shoes with the fuzzy balls, the poofy shorts and tutu, the opera gloves, the shoulder pads, etc.

Like if Pink was *so* perfect and competent like Yellow and Blue, then why was she treated otherwise? Why are their primary memories of her entertaining them or acting out?

Like literally if any other gem acted out as Pink did they'd be shattered immediately. The other Diamonds were constantly accommodating her. The garden & Spinel, providing Pebbles to constantly repair and adjust her room as she wants (assuming the others dont have that)

The "I'm just as important as you!" "Then why don't you act like it!" line really gets me

All I'm saying is if Pink was so perfect as a Diamond why was it such a struggle for her to even get a colony? Why did she have to *ask permission*

And yes I know the whole thing is that differences are beautiful and she was in a toxic space, of *course*. But *initially*. If gems grow out of the ground knowing who they are and what they are supposed to do, what made Pink so different in the first place?

Yes it was a toxic and oppressive system for literally everyone. But with how obsessed with perfection Homeworld is, Pink was kept alive. For her to look and behave differently, she had to be defiant in the first place. The Diamonds had to have taken one look at her and seen something they considered wrong.

And that only emphasizes the story's message. If Pink was an off color herself, of *course* she'd be a victim in a toxic household. Of course she'd struggle for respect and would grow resentment. Of course she would start a rebellion about freedom and being who you are. Also we could say this is further supported when White goes off color she turns pink.

But I believe that Pink was never considered a full Diamond in the first place. She was basically a mascot/pet to them.

Like if the Diamonds wanted a mascot sort of thing, why make Pink a diamond in the first place when their 'purpose' is to rule?

A friend suggests that Pink being an off color can support why every single Gem from Earth is considered bad. Also Pink's rebellion didn't help that along, seeing as some gems believed that Rose was like a mutated strain of quartz

I could probably keep going but I think this is good for now.

Pink Diamond was supposed to be a Red Diamond and was only kept bc admitting that a Diamond could be off color would destroy their whole system around perfection. It explains why, from the very beginning, she was treated differently, thus building her resentment and starting a war with herself. And it further supports the message of the show if the one who started it all was an off color herself.

I really believe in the theory that pink diamond was an “off color” because she supposed to be red diamond, just remember that the yellow, blue and red color are the primary colors💎

#steven universe #pink diamond su #pink diamond theory

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codfxrn-blog · 2 days ago

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BETWEEN FIRE AND SHADOW

⚠️ CONTENT WARNING: This story contains mature, sensual, and emotionally intense themes intended for adult readers (18+).

✍️ Author’s Note: English is not my first language. I apologize for any mistakes or awkward phrasing you might find. I hope the emotion still reaches you.

Bob Reynolds × reader × Bucky

━━━━━━✧♛✧━━━━━━

Neon lights were dripping down the windows like liquid tears. Colors melting into the rain, flickering between glass and darkness like someone was crying from inside.

Outside, the rain fell with that electric softness that doesn’t soak but clings. Like invisible fingers brushing over skin. Like the world was breathing at the back of your neck.

I was there.

Alone.

Sitting at the bar, where the music was a distant murmur and the glasses were sweating on the wood. I was drinking something I didn’t even remember ordering. Something bitter and ice-cold that burned just enough. Like my throat. Like my chest.Just another one of those nights where I felt like an accidental witness in a story I never asked to star in.

Then I heard it.

“You shouldn’t be alone.”

The voice was low, rough—like a stone buried at the bottom of a river. Recognizable, even in the deepest dream.I turned slowly.

Bucky.

His hair was damp from the rain. His lips parted slightly, as if holding back words. The leather jacket stuck to his body like second skin. Everything about him smelled like a warning.

Like loyalty. Like the past.

He looked at me like he could remember who I was before the pain. Before the cracks. Like he still had hope.But I knew the truth.

His shadow was never alone. It was always preceded—or followed—by another. One more intense. More volatile. More dangerous.

And then I felt it. Before I saw him.

Bob.

He didn’t walk in—he burst through. Like a wildfire that doesn’t ask for permission. His presence was a shockwave, like the air itself had changed weight just to hold him. He wore civilian clothes, but his body looked ready to burst out of them.

Tense. Restless. Alive.

His gaze locked on mine like he’d been searching, even with his eyes closed. That blue of his wasn’t calm. It wasn’t clear.

It was a storm. A memory.

A burning question behind a frozen expression.He once looked at me like that.

Before he touched me.

Before he lost me.

“You shouldn’t speak for her,” Bob said, his eyes never leaving mine. His voice was a straight line. A challenge.

And there I was.Suspended between two breaths.

Between the man who wanted to save me… and the one who only knew how to set me on fire.

Between control and chaos.

The past that knew my wounds… and the living wound that had never healed.

The bar turned into a dangerous edge. My glass, a useless anchor. The sounds around me faded. Only they existed. Their tense bodies. Their silences full of words left unsaid.I could feel the fury burning beneath Bob’s skin. The way his hands trembled, just barely, as if fighting the impulse to reach for me. And I could see the hidden ache in Bucky’s eyes—that tiredness of someone who’s waited too long.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” I said at last, unsure if I believed it. But wanting them to hear it.

They didn’t answer. Not with words.

Only with their eyes.Two different ways of loving me.

Two possible futures.

Two kinds of fire.

And me—burning in between.

The elevator was a box of suspended silence—a glowing cell where the only thing that moved was our breathing. An invisible triangle, tense, electric. The air felt thick, saturated with everything we hadn’t said. Their bodies were presence, heat, threat. The lights flickered with the weight of a warning.

Bob’s hand brushed against my back at intervals, like he was measuring the distance between desire and guilt. Each touch was a mistake made a thousand times. A dissonant chord in our old melody.

Bucky, on my left, didn’t touch me. But his closeness was magnetic pressure, like he was holding himself back—out of respect… or fear of what might happen if he didn’t.When the door to the hotel room closed behind us, the silence became deafening. There was no space for words. Only broken breaths. Built-up tension. And the way they looked at me—like both were about to fall, and it would be my fault.

There was a heavy silence floating between us. Not the awkward kind. The kind that clings to your skin like sweat, that pulses at the base of your neck, between your thighs, behind clenched teeth.

The kind of silence begging to be broken with a bite.I was in the center of the room.

They stood at either side.

Like opposing poles that no longer knew how to repel each other.

Bob looked at me like his hunger had no bottom. White knuckles. Tight lips. His chest rising and falling slowly. Like holding back was a kind of torture he welcomed.

“If I get any closer, I won’t be able to stop,” he said, his voice barely a growl.

“And who asked you to?” I answered, without thinking. Without breathing. Without fear.

Bucky let out a dry laugh. Almost broken. He walked toward me slowly. Each step a silent threat.

“Are you playing with fire?” he asked, stopping just inches from me, so close I could feel the heat of his body without him touching me.

“I’m made of it,” I whispered.

His eyes drifted down my neck, across my parted lips, over the rise and fall of my chest that I couldn’t control.

Bob stepped in behind me, his breath brushing my neck without touching. Almost. Barely. A warm ghost that raised every hair on my skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he said in my ear, voice hoarse and vibrating, like lightning trapped in sound. “Tell me not to.”

“Don’t,” I whispered. But I trembled. Because I didn’t mean it.

Because I didn’t want anything to stop.

Bucky slowly raised a hand. His finger grazed my collarbone. Just one finger. But it felt like I was being stripped bare. I couldn’t stop the heat blooming in my body before his touch.

“You’re trembling,” he said.

“It’s not me,” I replied. “It’s you two.”

Bob growled low, close to my ear.

“Swear to God, if you look at me like that again…”

“What?” I asked, my words a provocation shaped like a breath.

“I’ll make you forget how to walk,” he spat.Bucky leaned his forehead against mine. His breath hit my mouth. I could smell the metal of his arm, feel the heat rising from his chest.

“We should stop,” he said, without conviction.

“Then step back,” I dared him.

He didn’t move.

They were both pressed against me without fully touching.

We were three bodies suspended in tension.

Contained desire. Tongues aching to taste, hands shaking from restraint.

“We’re not going to survive this,” Bob murmured.

“Then let’s die slow,” I answered, letting my head fall back, surrendering to the electricity burning between us.I could feel them both. The heavy beats in their throats. The weight of their stares seared into my skin.

Their need.

My surrender.

The edge about to break.

But none of us moved.

Not yet.

Bob was the first to touch me.

His warm breath against my neck was an implosion. His hands—trembling, clumsy—traced down my back until they found the zipper of my dress. He pulled it down with a need that looked like it hurt. Like undressing me was more a confession than a physical act.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his rough voice hitting my sternum like an ancient plea. “I can’t sleep unless I know you’re still alive.”

His lips searched for me, as if they remembered the way even in darkness. He kissed my collarbone with interrupted devotion, a reverent hunger that seemed to apologize for existing. Each bite was a muffled scream. A plea disguised as desire.

Bob was always like this: luminous, tragic, feral.He touched me like he was made of broken light. Like I was his religion and his ruin all at once. He pushed me gently against the wall, and his body melted into mine with an urgency that asked for no permission.

But we weren’t alone.

Bucky was there.

Still. Watching.

Leaning in the corner of the room like a living shadow. His jaw clenched, his eyes dark, his metal fist closed so tightly it creaked. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.

His gaze burned more than any touch.

“Are you just going to stand there and watch?” I asked, my back arched, caught between the wall and Bob’s body, my legs trembling from everything I could no longer control. “Is that all I am to you?”

He didn’t answer.

He just stepped forward. Silent.Certain. Like a storm that already knew where to fall.

His eyes weren’t on my body. He didn’t need that. He looked at me. At the soul beneath the shaking.

At the wound behind the desire.Bob stepped back slowly. He wasn’t jealous.

He wasn’t possessive. He was an accomplice.

Like he knew what was about to happen wasn’t betrayal—but a silent pact between three broken souls.

Bucky’s flesh hand wrapped around my waist.Warm.Steady.

Human.

The other—cold as a promise of eternal metal—came to rest on my cheek. So softly. So carefully. It made me close my eyes.

And then he kissed me.

And the world fractured.

His mouth was hunger. Desperation. Redemption.

He kissed me like the end of the world was waiting just outside that room and he could stop it—only if he held me like this.

For a moment, I wasn’t broken. For a moment, I forgot I wasn’t supposed to love either of them.

The worst part was that I loved them both.

And I no longer knew how to survive that.We ended up in the bed, a single body fragmented in three.We didn’t know who touched first.We just felt.

Bucky’s hands on my back—strong, possessive, painfully precise.Bob’s mouth on my neck—his broken breathing, his tongue like a desperate prayer.

My legs were open. Not out of surrender. But because I’d stopped resisting. The sweat on our skin was liquid fire.

Our movements, chaotic at first, became a wordless rhythm.

One held me. The other took me.

One adored me. The other claimed me.

“You’re trembling,” Bob murmured, caressing the curve of my breast like it was sacred, just before drawing a gasp from my lips with his touch between my thighs.

“You’re tearing her apart,” Bucky growled, his voice low, darker now. “Like you want her to break in your arms.”I just moaned.

Voice wrecked.

Soul wide open. And I felt alive. Not from the touch. Not from the heat.

But because—for one cursed and glorious moment—I had them both.

My two tragedies. My two inevitable mistakes. My two favorite ruins.

When the orgasm hit, it came like a black wave.

Beautiful. Devastating.

I cried. I don’t know why. Maybe for what I’d lost. Maybe for what I’d found.

Or maybe because, for the first time, I felt whole… by being divided. Their names burned in my throat.I didn’t know which one I belonged to.

And truthfully—I didn’t want to know.

I woke with the sensation of still having them inside me.

My body pulsed as if the night were replaying itself across my skin—a silent film projected onto my back.

The air smelled of sweat, of sex, of battles won and wars unfinished.

Bob wasn’t sleeping.

He was watching me in silence, as if exhaustion couldn’t touch him as long as I kept breathing beside him. His eyes held that lethal mix of tenderness and storm.His hair was messy. His lips parted, like he was holding back words that didn’t dare come out.

His arm was wrapped around my waist—not like a prison,but like a bridge he was afraid I’d stop crossing. Bucky, a few feet away, was finally asleep.

Even in dreams, his body remained tense.But his face… had surrendered.

At least for now. A truce. A pause.

A perfect parenthesis where the world didn’t demand I choose.And in that stolen breath of dawn, Bob moved closer.

His voice was just a wisp of smoke:

“Can I touch you again?”

I didn’t answer with words.I simply slid my hand across his chest, feeling the muscle vibrate beneath my palm, lowering it slowly until I heard him gasp when I reached his hardness.I nodded with my eyes.

With my skin.

And he understood.His fingers started at my collarbone—slow,like he was tracing a prayer only he knew.

He looked at me with restrained reverence.

Like he didn’t know whether to worship me or ask for forgiveness.He kissed my shoulder. Then my cheek. Then the corner of my mouth.

His lips weren’t searching for possession.

They were searching for certainty.As if he needed to confirm I was still here,that I was still real,that I chose him—at least this time—in this room that still smelled of sex, sweat, and unsaid decisions.

His body settled over mine without weight.

Only heat.

As if he feared breaking me.

As if he didn’t know I was already broken—and that somehow, he was one of my favorite cracks.

He kissed me for real.Not hunger.

Slow fire. A reverence.

His lips moved against mine with a dangerous softness—the kind that entangles more than fury ever could.

“You’re warmth,” he whispered against my neck. “And I’m always cold.”

His hand moved down my sides.

Not searching. Not claiming. Just feeling me.

As if my skin were a language he’d been secretly studying for years.

I wrapped myself around him.

Caught him with my legs, with my arms, with the tremors I couldn’t hold back.

I felt weightless. Alive.

As if desire floated in my throat like a hymn.

When his chest brushed mine, I didn’t moan—I sighed.

Because it didn’t hurt.

Because for the first time, it felt like coming home.

Bob looked down at me, hair falling into his eyes,and that sad, fevered blue pierced straight through the center of my soul.

“I never stop feeling you,” he murmured, like the confession hurt. “Even when you’re not there. Even when you won’t look at me.”I caressed his cheek. “I’m here now.”

He kissed my chest with an ancient kind of tenderness.

As if he were blessing me.His hands gripped my waist, and we moved together—slowly,so slowly it hurt.Like time was afraid of us.

Like nothing else existed outside of us and that stolen morning.He was strength and vulnerability.

He was trembling light in a fracture.

And me… I let him touch me. Not with urgency, but with surrender.

When it ended, he didn’t move away.

He rested his forehead against mine,our breaths uneven,our mouths still parted—like we didn’t know whether to kiss againor just stay like this…suspended.We didn’t say anything.

But that silence tasted like tenderness,like redemption,like an unanswered question.And maybe…like a promise.

One we might never keep. But in that night—in that dawn—it was

A shiver settled along my spine, waking me with a start. Bob was to my left, asleep with his brow furrowed—as if even in dreams, he couldn’t let go of the weight of the world.

His chest rose and fell slowly,and his arm was wrapped around me with a tenderness I’d never seen in him.

As if he feared I’d disappear unless he kept me pressed against his golden body.

Bucky, on the other hand, was awake. He stood by the window, his back to us. The metal of his arm caught the pale light of dawn.

He looked like a statue carved from pain and longing.

“You’re not sleeping,” I whispered.

He didn’t turn. Not yet.

“I can’t.Not all the way. Not after that.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No,” he said, finally turning around. His eyes were violent oceans—deep and dark. “But I know you will.” I wanted to contradict him. To say there was no guilt. Only desire. But it would’ve been a lie. Because I desired him. And I desired Bob too.

The worst part was that each of them awakened something different in me: Bob, the need for light. Bucky, the hunger for shadow. And I…I was a crack.

A contradiction with long legs and lips stained by both of them.

I sat up slowly, the sheet slipping down my bare skin like it wasn’t even trying to cover me.

I didn’t feel shame.

There was something in his gaze—tense, frozen, burning—that gave me permission to exist like this.Free. Naked. Desired.

I let him look at me.Let the silence weigh.

Let his pupils drink in every inch of meuntil I could feel it in my mouth,as if his hunger had flavor.

“What if I don’t regret it?” I asked, my voice low, dragging every word toward him. My steps pulled him closer to a line we’d already crossed.I stopped in front of his tense body,and the cold metal of his arm brushed my bare side. Goosebumps bloomed across my skin. “What if I want more?”

He closed his lips like someone trying not to give in. As if every muscle in him was fighting something inevitable.

“Then I can’t protect you… from us,” he said. His voice was a weapon. And his stare—a promise that burned.

His hands gripped my waist with a force that spoke more of need than tenderness,and he kissed me.It wasn’t soft.

It was an emotional ambush. A bite disguised as lips. A plea with teeth.

He lifted me effortlessly,sat me on the little table by the window,and the cold glass against my back clashed with his fingers—fingers that moved with the precision of someone who didn’t need to ask.

He already knew. He already knew the map of my body,the exact routes where the tremble began. I moaned into his mouth, open and trembling,clutching his shouldersas the light of dawn filtered through the window,drawing our shadows together. Me—with my legs spread.

Him—with his voice low, rough, dangerously close to my ear:

“He doesn’t touch you like I do.He doesn’t hear these sounds you give me.”

“Jealous?” I gasped, barely able to control the trembling.

“No,” he whispered, like it hurt. “Desperate.”

And when I came undone against him—shaking and vulnerable—I knew:vTo him,my surrender wasn’t just lust.It was victory.His quietest one.

Hours later, the room was silent. All three of us were dressed again,looking at one another. The conversation floated in the air like an undetonated bomb.

“So… what now?” I asked, sitting between them. Bob looked at me.With that look that hurt. Because his love had always been so big it seemed like it wanted to save me from myself.

“I still choose you,” he said.

“That’s not fair,” Bucky replied. “You can’t love something that doesn’t belong to you.”

“She’s not a thing,” Bob interjected.

“No. But she’s not only yours either.”

They both looked at me. I took a deep breath, wishing I’d been born without a heart.

“I don’t want to choose,” I confessed. “Not yet. Maybe never.”

“Then what are we?” Bob asked, his voice cracking.

For the first time,I felt their stares pierce through me, and I had nowhere to hide. No way to disappear.

“You’re what keeps me from jumping,” I said.

And they stayed.

Because we were crossfire—an intense desire that burned slow,too close to let go.

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