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f1withespresso · 6 days ago

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the distance between us is measured in laps | pt. 19

✎ — oscar piastri x fem!teammate!reader

✎ — summary: They were teammates. Friends. Maybe lovers. But McLaren lets their drivers race, and as the championship slips into chaos, ambition corrodes everything. Two rising stars, one world title, and a rivalry so personal it bleeds. Love isn’t gone. It’s just buried under throttle, heartbreak, and the will to win.

✎ — chapter word count: +6.5k

✎ — radio: we are turning into the final arc of this series. it's only 4 chapters left (omg). thanks for all the positive feedback, reblogs, likes and comments <3 this has been a lot of fun so far! check out the playlist at the bottom btw, it's kinda long this time!

series masterlist

It’s been five days since Austin, barely enough time to breathe. The dust from the Grand Prix still clings to everything — in headlines, in photo carousels, in clipped press quotes and TikToks turned slow-motion. But the circus rolls on, as it always does. You post three photos from your tiny San Francisco vacation: a blurry sunset over the Golden Gate, a too-pretty latte beside a half-read book, a landscape shot of the infamous route 66. It represents the soft reset, curated peace you found.

📍San Francisco, California

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yourusuername took the route out west! god this country is huge 🇺🇸

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mclaren enjoy the days off! We look forward to see you in Mexico City 🇲🇽🧡

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username1 she looks so calm 😭 mother’s healing in her coastal era

username2 girl needed a BREAK fr. let her drink oat lattes and avoid her feelings in peace 🫶

username3 how do i become an f1 driver and also escape to san fran after ruining a man’s life??? asking for a friend

username4 no cause she did the exact same thing after monza… photo dump, retreat, spiritual reset 😭 she’s running a pattern her

username6 posting café pics to distract from the fact that parc fermé almost became a greek tragedy last week

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Oscar, meanwhile, is spotted in Austin and Dallas, tagged in grainy fan photos with Hattie. At a bookstore. Outside a food truck. Watching a local gig with his hands in his pockets, head down because he doesn’t know someone’s watching. He’s smiling in some of them, laughing in others, but he always looks like his mind is somewhere else entirely.

username1 this man is not in texas. he is in his thoughts username2 it’s so cute how he’s spending time with his sister username4 last time he looked like this was post-Monaco and we all KNOW what that spiral was about username5 ngl this gives “he’s trying not to check her insta every 5 minutes” vibes username6 he’s in dallas but his soul’s in parc fermé watching [Y/N] walk right past him username7 don’t let this man near another sad acoustic song or he’s not making it to Abu Dhabi

The paddock hasn’t moved on in those five days — it never does. Especially not this late in the season. Rumors keep echoing louder the closer the flight to Mexico gets.

Red Bull in Advanced Talks with [Y/N] as McLaren Contract Nears End Sources suggest a multi-year deal is on the table as the championship leader weighs her 2026 options. Team Tensions: Is McLaren Losing Their Star? McLaren CEO Zak Brown says nothing’s official... but the silence around a contract renewal for McLaren star [Y/N][Y/LN] is loud. A Championship Leader on the Move? If you’re Red Bull, how do you not chase after arguably the second fastest driver on the grid? Especially if the fastest one is already on your team.

It starts out like any normal race weekend. Flights land. Track walks begin. Engineers huddle around telemetry and mechanics around the car. But everything feels… anticipatory. Like the days in between two weekends didn’t soften the blow — they only gave everyone more time to aim. The world is watching. Waiting. You’re the championship leader. You’re still in papaya orange. But for how much longer — that’s the question on every mic this weekend. And Oscar — somewhere between the Texas backroads and a hotel in Mexico City — is certain: This time, it could be much more than just another race weekend.

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The press room is over-lit and over-crowded. Cameras click, shuffling paper and shuffling feet. You sit between Kimi Antonelli — hands folded, posture impeccable for someone so young — and Nico Hülkenberg, arms casually draped, long familiar with the rhythm of these days. You’re wearing the most basic look possible. Minimal McLaren branding aside from the team shirt. Hair back. Polite face on. It’s the calm before the inevitable media hurricane. A moderator opens the session, names you all, and barely finishes the final syllable before the floodgates open. “[Y/N], has your focus shifted now that talks with Red Bull have been confirmed by both teams? How can you guarantee you're still giving your all to McLaren?“ “I’m in a title fight with McLaren. That’s where my focus is on right now,” you say, voice clear. “That takes all of me. Every single race, every lap, every choice. I’ve worked too hard to get here to let anything distract me.” “But can you confirm whether you’ve signed anything? Some sources say it’s already a done deal.” You exhale through your nose. “Nothing’s been signed. Nothing’s been finalized. Right now, I’m focused on delivering results on track. What happens next season will happen when it happens.” “Do you still feel McLaren gives you what you need to win?” That one stings a little. You square your shoulders. “I want to be a contender again next year, not just this season. That means needing a fast car, yes, which McLaren no doubt has — but also a team I thrive in. A team that brings out the best in me, and that I can give everything to in return. That’s the bar.” Kimi glances at you sideways, brief, thoughtful. “Is this your way of saying McLaren isn’t that team anymore?” You resist the bait. Smile, measured. “I’m saying I haven’t made that decision yet.” A pause, then a softer question cuts through the noise: “What does winning the title mean to you personally?” You sit with that one. It’s a much easier question to answer. “It means everything. It means that all the years and energy I poured into this sport finally pay off. That every unlucky race, every crash, everytime I got yelled at, was worth it.” You glance down. “It’s the kind of thing you dream about when no one’s watching you yet. Before the sponsors or big team names. And then suddenly the whole world is watching. It’s… a lot. But it’s worth it.” “Follow-up: Does that pressure get heavier when your teammate is also a contender?” You meet the journalist’s gaze squarely. „Everyone on the grid wants to win the drivers championship. And by that logic everyone is a contender. That doesn’t make it personal. And of course it’s extra thrilling if one of the hottest contenders is in the same machinery as you. It means that it really comes down to your own race craft and your ability to deliver under pressure.” You know they’ll read between the lines anyway. A shift in attention. The next question is directed to Nico. “Nico, you’ve watched a lot of young drivers come and go. How impressed are you with [Y/N]'s performance, considering this is only her second season?”

He chuckles lightly, giving a small nod in your direction. “Very impressed, to be honest. She’s quick, calm, bold. That’s all good traits to have and she's obviously very successful as well, even under this kind of pressure. It's not just lucky to achieve results like that. She’s earned her place in this fight, I would say.” Then Kimi’s turn. “Kimi, does [Y/N]’s performance in just her second year affect you at all? Add pressure, maybe?” Kimi blinks slowly, choosing his words. “I think it’s motivating more than anything,” he says. “She’s setting a high bar for all the rookies. That’s what makes the sport better. It shows what’s possible early on, and that’s inspiring for all of us rookies coming up.” You catch a quiet sincerity in his tone. You give him a small, grateful smile. He gives you one back. More hands go up. “[Y/N], what’s your take on the swearing fines being discussed again after Singapore and Austin? Too harsh? Or good for the image of the sport?” You raise an eyebrow. “Look, if we’re asking drivers to perform at the highest level, to push past the edge every Sunday, emotions will run high. You want honesty — but then you fine it? Bit of a mixed message.” “So you’re pro-swearing?” someone jokes. You grin. “Hell yeah. Swear all you want if you ask me. It’s only human. And as long as you are not at other people’s throats, you can be mad about the tires or the track or the people crashing into you all you want for as much as I care.” Laughter from the room. A temporary easing of the tension. But when the moderator wraps, the weight settles back in your chest like clockwork. The second you step out the conference room, the noise catches up again — headlines forming before your feet even touch the ground. And you know they’ll twist your words into whatever shape fits their narrative best. You just hope your driving, at least, keeps speaking louder.

Motorsport.com — [Y/LN]: ‘Nothing’s been finalized’ — McLaren star remains focused on title fight F1.com — "Y/LN] addresses Red Bull rumors: ‘I want to be a contender next year too’ The Athletic — Cracks at McLaren? [Y/N][Y/LN] questions where she’ll ‘thrive’ next season Autosport — Between the lines: press conference ahead of Mexican Grand Prix hints at deeper tension within McLaren camp

The warm, amber light casts long shadows across the bar’s polished wood and exposed brick walls. Spanish indie rock hums low in the background, a familiar soundtrack to this exclusive, dimly lit Mexico City spot that smells faintly of lime, salt, and fried nacho crisps. The air is thick with the quiet buzz of weekend revelers, but your corner of the world feels miles away from the track tension — a small bubble where the noise of the paddock, rumors, and media frenzy can’t reach. Max grins at you across the table, eyes sparkling with a dare. “Alright, [Y/N], shot challenge. You lose, you’re buying the next round. No backing out.” You lift an eyebrow, matching his grin. “Aren’t you like a four time worldchampion. Shouldn’t you be like responsible or something.“ „Well responsible is boring and I can see how you are trying to back out,“ he gives you a challenging smirk. „Oh! You’re on, Verstappen. But if you lose, you’re dancing on the bar to Macarena.” Checo snorts, shaking his head as he pulls out his phone to document the moment. “Oh no, I do not want to miss that.” The bartender slides over a tray of tequila shots, each glass catching the light like tiny golden suns. You grab your shot glass, the cool weight firm in your hand. The world narrows to a pinpoint — a brief flash of sharp burn down your throat and then laughter. Max claps, loud and triumphant. “See? Told you! The queen of shots,” he teased. You smirk, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “I hate you so much right now. I'm seriously contemplating what awful thing I can tell the press as payback. Remember Monaco qualifying? Who forgot to put the car in gear?” Max groans, mock offense flooding his face. “Hey! That was a practice session!” Checo leans back, laughing. “Practice or not, it was epic.” The conversation flows effortlessly — stories, jokes, and playful jabs bouncing back and forth like the tequila shots do. Someone dares Max to mimic Toto’s infamous 'I have it'-crashout. The resulting over-the-top flailing and shouting over the music has everyone doubled over, tears in their eyes. Later, you catch Max’s gaze as he slides a glass your way. “You’ve been killing it this year. No wonder all the rumors are swirling about you and Red Bull.” You shrug, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m focused on winning races. Everything else is just noise. And I mean there is nothing to confirm or deny at this point, now is there Mr. Red Bull?” He nods, sincere. “Well, either way you deserve to be where you want to be. Whatever that looks like.” Checo jumps in, teasing, “Yeah yeah, important business talk over here, but seriously, when’s the dance-off on the bar? You can’t chicken out.” You laugh, already feeling the warmth spread beyond the tequila burn. “I might surprise you.” Max smirks, raising his glass. “To surprises, then.” The group joins in, glasses clinking, and the night stretches on with easy camaraderie. Between sips, someone pulls out a phone and snaps candid shots — Max’s hand resting lightly on your shoulder as you lean in laughing at one of Checo’s ridiculous jokes, the faintest flicker of something warm and familiar passing between you. The photos leak quickly, flooding social media before the night is over. Fans and pundits alike buzz with excitement. The internet eats it up, spinning stories about a partnership both on and off track. But here, in this corner booth, none of that matters. It’s just laughter, friendship, and a reminder of the simple joy you share outside the pressure, the rumors, and the constant spotlight. For a few hours, you’re just [Y/N], and they’re just friends. And maybe — just maybe — that’s enough to keep you grounded for the battles ahead.

📍Mexico City, Mexico

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f1gossip 📸 Leaked pics from last night’s exclusive Mexico City bar hangout! 🍸🔥 Max Verstappen and [Y/N][Y/LN] spotted having a blast with Verstappen’s former teammate Sergio Perez and some friends — tequila shots, silly bets, and that unmistakable easy chemistry. One shot shows Max’s hand casually resting on [Y/N]’s shoulder, sparking wild speculation… Is the next great Red Bull duo already in the making? 🤔👀

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username1 OMG I love this duo so much!! If [Y/N] goes to Red Bull, they’ll absolutely crush the grid

username2 [Y/N] looks so relaxed and happy here. Honestly, she deserves a fast car and a team that truly supports her. Red Bull could be that place! ↳ username3 red bull and a team that supports her? They are a more like a broken home

username3 Please noooooo don’t let her leave mclaren! They have something special, and I don’t want to see the team broken up like this

username9 it's so unprofessional of them to go out like this on race weekend ↳ username1 they are literally p1 and p3 in the championship, i think they can handle it pretty well

username4 Bet [Y/N] is just using Max to stir up drama in the paddock. Don’t fall for the Red Bull PR game, folks. It’s all politics

username6 imagine the tension if Oscar and [Y/N] are still teammates next year while she’s cozying up to Max. This is gonna get messy…

username7 I don't think Red Bull can sign [Y/N], Zak’s got his claws in tight. But if they do? Game over.

username8 back in 2024, Oscar was all about [Y/N] — now it looks like she’s moving on. Feels like a slow heartbreak in real time. 🥲

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Oscar’s phone buzzes, a sharp interruption in the quiet of his dim hotel room. Another update from your close friend’s Instagram story— this time a blurred, grainy photo of you, laughing with your head thrown back, tequila shot raised, and Max’s laugh pointed at you. The caption is careless, almost flippant: “Confirmed: I can outdrink Max Verstappen” He blinks, staring at the glowing screen. That image—bright, alive, unguarded—might as well be a photograph from another lifetime. Another world he no longer belongs to. His chest tightens, the sudden constriction like a fist curling deep in his ribs. His throat goes dry. There are no messages from you anymore. No “hope you’re doing okay” texts. Just silence, vast and cavernous, echoing louder than any roar of the grandstands. Your’re out with other people. Oscar’s mind reels back to the beginning. To that first chaotic day of 2024, when you became teammates. He was late, as he usually was (a bad habit he couldn’t quite turn around), but you were early—calm, sharp, with a wry smile and no-nonsense attitude that sliced through the pre-season hopes and fears. You charmed him instantly, with your quick wit and the fearless way you carried yourself. Between the two of you it clicked immediately. The camaraderie was electric, like two currents charging the same circuit. More than teammates, you were partners in crime, sharing strategies, teasing one another, pushing through brutal race weekends side by side. The fans noticed too. The easy laughter after long days. The glances shared during tense team meetings. The way you celebrated victories and consoled each other after defeats. The socials lit up with hopeful whispers: could they be the next great duo, on and off the track? Was this the start of something more?

Now, that spark feels stolen, flickering out beneath the weight of distance and silence. Max and you—laughing, drinking, clinking glasses in a cozy Mexico City bar. Your carefree energy captured in candid shots, lighting up social media feeds. Oscar knows Max is a recent father, grounded by his steady partner, his world neatly arranged. What he doesn’t understand is the nature of your friendship—and how it had happened. But it doesn’t matter. Because every frame of those pictures is a punch to Oscar’s gut. It’s a ghost of what he lost before he even realized it was slipping through his fingers. He scrolls through the comments—some sweet, hopeful, like “Next great duo on the grid!” and “If she goes to Red Bull, they’ll dominate the sport for years.” Others sting more sharply: “Oscar’s probably watching this and wondering what went wrong.” “Why stay at McLaren when she could have a dream team?” Oscar’s fingers tremble as he puts the phone down, unable to bear the weight of it anymore. The room around him feels suddenly claustrophobic—the stale hotel air, the faint hum of the city outside the window, the dim glow of the bedside lamp. It all presses down like a physical weight.

He closes his eyes and lets himself fall back into memories, as if reaching through time to grasp something lost. The time your eyes met during that rookie briefing—the way your smile had made the room seem a little less dull, a little warmer. The way you’d teased him gently about his unbothered approach to the race weekends. The long nights spent poring over telemetry data, your voice calm but fierce, him challenging you to push harder. Him believing in you. The silent understanding in the pit lane when everything else felt like chaos. Back then, the world felt full of possibility. Like you were on the cusp of something—friendship, light rivalry, probably even something more. He remembers the small moments he treasured, tucked away like precious keepsakes: the way you’d catch his eye after a good race, the subtle encouragement in a hug, the warmth in your laugh that had nothing to do with the press or the fans. Now those memories sting with a bitterness he can’t shake. You’ve drifted apart, quietly, painfully. Your silence is a slow burn, the absence of your messages cutting deeper than any harsh word. And the photos? They feel like a final, cruel punctuation mark. Oscar feels hollow, as if the person who once made his world spin faster has spun out of orbit, caught in a new trajectory he can’t follow. He reaches for his phone again, thumb hovering over the messaging app. But the words won’t come. How do you say what’s broken, what’s unsaid? How do you ask for something that might never be? He leans back, the cool sheets doing nothing to soothe the fire in his chest. The hours stretch on, the night growing heavier with every passing minute. Oscar lets the ache settle in—raw, unfiltered, and unavoidable. It’s a quiet surrender to a truth he’s been afraid to face: you were once something rare, something that keeps people from breaking in this sport, but now he’s just a spectator, watching from the sidelines as you move on without him. The golden Australian light from the beginning of the season is long gone. The quiet of the room is absolute. And somewhere deep inside, Oscar wonders if he’ll ever find the way back.

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Sky Sports F1 has the team principals for interviews on Friday morning. The cameras roll steadily, the hum of the paddock just audible beyond the glass. The stage is set for the weekend’s pre-race interviews, and the world waits to hear from the men at the top, their voices carrying the unspoken battles beneath the polished words. Toto Wolff leans back, his gaze calm but intense. “Kimi Antonelli has been remarkable,” he says thoughtfully, fingers tapping the table. “It’s rare to see that kind of maturity in a rookie, especially from an 18 year old. He’s not just learning how to control the car — he’s learning the mental game too. And George? Well, George has really stepped up this year. He’s consistent, he’s fast, and most importantly, he’s leading the team with confidence. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s standing on the top step regularly before long. He’s shaping up to be a future world champion.” Toto’s words are measured, but there’s pride there — pride in the future of the team and a hint of the fierce competition brewing beneath. Switch to Christian Horner, who leans in, eyes sharp, voice steady but inviting. “We’re absolutely in conversations with [Y/N],” he says without hesitation. “What we offer her is a car that can win races — that’s non-negotiable. But beyond the machinery, it’s about the environment. We have an elite team, one that’s incredibly loyal and professional. She’d be joining a crew where she can focus entirely on her performance — engineers and strategists dedicated to supporting her every move on track. And having a teammate like Max? That’s invaluable. Someone who knows what it takes to be the best, who can push and support her in equal measure.” There’s a subtle glimmer of charm beneath the professional tone — a knowing nod to what a partnership like this could mean, not just for Red Bull, but for the sport. Then the screen cuts to Zak, the tension almost palpable in his carefully composed posture. His smile is polite but forced. “Look, I believe [Y/N] has very little reason to go,” Zak says, voice steady but slightly strained. “We’re working through the details. Renewal negotiations are ongoing — nothing has ever been off the table. These things take time, and we’re confident the contract will be sorted soon. [Y/N] is a key part of McLaren’s future, and we want to make sure she knows that. After all we have the most dominant car this year and we had a it last year. There is no reason to believe that we won’t have it next year as well.” His words, though reassuring on the surface, carry the weight of uncertainty. The slight hesitation, the defensive edge — the cracks show. The commentators pick up on it immediately. “One thing’s clear,” the voiceover cuts in, low and serious. “McLaren’s grip on this situation feels like it’s slipping. Zak Brown’s usual confidence sounds a bit hollow today. The questions aren’t just about contracts — they’re about control, loyalty, and what the future holds.” The montage ends with the lingering question hanging thick in the air: in this high-stakes game, who really holds the cards? And where will you play them out?

username2 Horner is playing the perfect devil here by offering the dream package to [Y/LN] without outright poaching. But “elite team,” “race-winning car,” and “great teammate” = clear Red Bull charm offensive. Especially when they put Max in a tractor this year. username3 Zak’s carefully worded “no reason to go” feels more like damage control than confidence username4 Horner’s offer is solid but the real question is whether [Y/N] wants to be the second driver to Max or perhaps the number one at McLaren. Both options come with big risks and rewards. username5 Zak’s statement reeks of “hold on tight” energy. the longer this drags, the more unsettling it gets. mclaren fans, brace yourselves, this could be a turning point. username6 mclarenss unability to get her renewal signed speaks volumes

The sun blazes over the Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez on Friday at practice, the scent of hot asphalt and burning brakes thick in the air. You settle into the cockpit, heart steady but mind still buzzing faintly from last night’s tequila-fueled laughs with Max and Checo. The warmth of the memories mingles oddly with the cold focus you need now. As the engine fires up, your fingers tighten on the wheel. The car responds like a wild stallion, eager but obedient. You push out onto the track, every turn demanding precision, every straight begging for maximum throttle. The live commentators can’t resist teasing. „Rumor has it [Y/N] and Verstappen had quite the fiesta last night. Will that hangover slow her down? Or will she outpace them all anyway?" a smirking voice jabs. You are pushing hard on the track. Purple sectors flash — sharp, bright, undeniable. Your radio crackles. “Front end’s biting nicely. Tires are a bit down but manageable. I’m getting a little loose in Turn 6, might try adjusting brake balance next run.” The engineer’s relief is audible. “Copy, [Y/N]. Keep that pace. You’re fastest this session currently.” Behind you, Oscar’s session is a quieter storm. He’s pushing, but his lines aren’t clean — a bit frantic.“Sliding wide! Too much on entry, lost the rear a bit.” A crackle of frustration. Your thoughts flicker briefly to the early days — when it was just you and him, fresh teammates, nervous but electric with possibility. His quiet smile after the first time you made him laugh, the way your personalities clicked on track and off. That spark, that effortless camaraderie — now just a ghost in the machine.

Saturday morning dawns crisp and sharp, the paddock alive with murmurs of anticipation. You slip back into the cockpit, a familiar calm settling in. Q1 and Q2 pass in a blur of speed, concentration, and calculated risk. You sense Oscar’s presence nearby but distant — he’s solid, but nowhere near the fire you feel burning. As Q3 begins, the world narrows to one thing — the track, the car, the moment. Your heart pounds, steady and strong. You know this lap will define the weekend. “Final lap. Clear track ahead. Let’s make it count.” Every corner is a dance — brake late, throttle hard, apex tight. The car sings under your command, every movement fluid, practiced, precise. Crossing the finish line, the timing monitors erupt. Purple sector after purple sector confirms it: pole position. The commentator’s voice swells with excitement. "Incredible! [Y/N] has taken pole with a breathtaking lap! Max Verstappen P2, Charles Leclerc P3, but it’s [Y/N] setting the pace this weekend. What a performance!“ You raise a fist, triumphant, your grin bright and fierce. Behind you, Oscar only manages to get into P4. The disappointment is a shadow over his face — he claps for you, but it’s mechanical, distant.

The roar of the engines shakes the grandstands on sunday, a living beast hungry for battle. You’re pinned low in the cockpit, visor catching flashes of sunlight, the track ahead a blur of asphalt, painted curbs, and frantic anticipation. The lights go out. Your world snaps alive. You explode forward, reflexes sharp, heart pounding a fierce rhythm. Into Turn 1, you jam the brakes, clutch the line — the cars behind you already hunting for gaps. Max is there, breathing down your neck, and Charles not far behind, hungry and aggressive. Your engineer is being in your ear. “Defend into Turn 1, push mode activated, clear exit. Hold it, [Y/N]!” “Copy that. Holding it tight.” Every gear change, every twitch of the steering wheel, precise. You’re a fortress on wheels — no cracks for Verstappen’s relentless attempts to slip past. Lap after lap, the battle intensifies. Charles surprises you, weaving a challenge you hadn’t fully expected this weekend, but you’re ready. Your mind races as fast as the car. “Charles in sector two, 0.3 seconds faster. Mode push when ready.” „Copy“ The tension is electric. Tires scream through corners, brakes glow red-hot, your lungs burn with effort. But you don’t falter. Behind, Oscar is battling his own race — steady but unremarkable, stuck in P4 without the pace to mount a fight for the podium. As the laps tick down, your lead in the championship inches higher, the stakes enormous but the execution flawless. On the final lap, you slice through the last corners with surgical precision. The checkered flag waves. You let out a scream — raw relief and joy — as you climb out, lungs heaving, muscles trembling. You park the car in parc fermè and slide out of it. From the side, Max appears, his face breaking into a genuine smile. Before you can say a word, he pulls you into a quick, respectful hug — a rare moment of warmth between two fierce rivals. You feel the weight of the weekend lift, even if just for a moment. Turning to your team, you leap into their arms, a jubilant firecracker of energy and gratitude. The McLaren crew erupt around you, clapping, cheering, slapping your back and shoudlers — the celebration is loud and proud. Oscar arrives later, clapping too, but it’s different. The smile feels forced, a mask. His eyes flicker toward you and Max, the easy camaraderie and shared victory light between you. The team gathers in front of the garage, bright smiles and triumphant energy soaking the air. You stand front and center — the unmistakable champion basking in the glow. Behind you, the McLaren crew beam, clapping and throwing celebratory fists. Oscar shifts uneasily to the side, trying to mold his face into a smile. It’s there, just barely — a practiced curve of lips that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. His shoulders tense, a fraction too stiff, like a guest at a party who’s forgotten why they were invited. The camera clicks, the flashes pop — team photo after team photo. You catch Oscar’s glance, a flicker of something — discomfort, distance, maybe even envy — before he turns his gaze elsewhere. Social media swarms instantly. Even the official McLaren accounts’ posted photos can’t mask it. The awkwardness lingers, as heavy as the humid air around the circuit. It’s a quiet moment, but one that speaks volumes — the picture of a team fractured, the story of two teammates caught in a silent rift.

📍Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez

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mclaren 🏁 Team spirit after another incredible weekend! Big congrats to [Y/N] on the win. A true champion leading the charge! Here’s to pushing harder and climbing higher together 💪🔥

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username1 Wow, can you feel the tension? Oscar looks like he’s been told he’s just ‘background scenery’ now 😬

username2 Respect to [Y/N] for carrying the team on her back!

username3 [Y/N] front and center as always cause she deserves it! Oscar looks like he’s standing in the wrong place lol

username5 Someone’s watching [Y/N] and Max photos like 👀 ... she’s got options and it shows. Wonder how that’s landing with the team

username6 [Y/N] is absolute GOAT material. This is what leadership looks like. Team or no team, she’s winning!

username7 Oscar’s got the talent, no doubt. But he’s in a tough spot. Hope he doesn’t let this get to him! he’s still got a lot to prove

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The press conference room hums with the buzz of reporters shuffling their notebooks and tapping on keyboards. You settle into your chair beside Max and Charles, the after-race glow radiating from all three of you. The air is lighter than last race weekend, charged with a different energy — relief, accomplishment, and the kind of easy camaraderie born from shared battles on the track. Leaning back, you cross your arms casually behind your head, your smile bright and genuine. Max grins beside you, nudging Charles with a joke about his lap times that gets a round of chuckles. The tension that usually clings in the paddock feels miles away tonight. A reporter calls out, “[Y/N], that was an incredible drive out there! You seemed totally in control, especially defending against Max and Charles. What was going through your mind during those moments?” You exchange a quick glance with Max — he raises his eyebrows, a playful challenge in them. “Honestly?” you say, voice easy. “It was like a game of chess at 200 miles per hour. You plan your moves, keep your eyes on the opponent, and hope they don’t see your next one coming. Max made me work for it today, but I wasn’t giving anything up.” Max laughs. “I was close! But [Y/N] is tough to beat on a good day.” „A good day?“, you cry out baffled. Charles jumps in, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Yeah, she’s been in incredible form all weekend. Watching her defend, you could see how calm and precise she was. That’s definitely not rookie nerves anymore.” “Speaking of which,” a reporter continues, “how are you feeling about the championship now that you’ve extended your lead?” You smile wider, the confidence solid and warm. “It’s one race, one weekend. I’m not getting ahead of myself. But yeah, this feels good. We’re pushing, and every point counts. The focus stays sharp.”You shoot a quick playful look at Charles and Max. The mood stays light, the banter effortless.

Meanwhile, somewhere else in the paddock, Oscar stands by himself in a more chaotic interview pen. The screen flickers with his image — calm, but reserved. The questions are straightforward, his answers clipped, professional. “Oscar, P4 today — solid, but not quite the result you wanted. Thoughts on the weekend?” “It was a tough day. We tried, but it just wasn’t there. Definitely not the result I or the team wanted. But I’ll review with the team and we’ll come back stronger next weekend.” Another question hits: “There’s been a lot of speculation about McLaren’s internal dynamics this season. What’s your take on that right now?” Oscar’s eyes tighten fractionally, but his voice remains measured. “I’m focused on my work and scoring points for the team. We all want the best results. That’s what matters to all of us and that’s what glues us together.” Back in the press conference room, the contrast is unmistakable. The three on the podium — relaxed, joking, enjoying the limelight. A seasoned F1 reporter murmurs into their microphone, barely audible over the chatter: “Interesting times at McLaren. You have [Y/N], the current championship leader, radiating confidence and building momentum — and Oscar, seemingly overshadowed, maybe even sidelined. The question now: Is McLaren backing the right horse?” Another voice adds, “It’s a delicate balance for the team. Managing two talented drivers, especially when one is clearly in the spotlight, is never easy. If Piastri can’t find his groove soon, they could be looking at a major shift next season.” The conference closes with a final exchange between you, Max, and Charles. Max quips, “We make a good team, huh?” You nod, laughing softly. “Yeah. I guess I could make you sweat.” But even as you bask in the moment, you know the season is far from over. The quiet tension back at McLaren lingers, and Oscar’s shadow looms in the back of your mind— a reminder that racing isn’t just about speed, but also about hearts and minds.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

The driver rooms empty almost simultaneously, the late afternoon sun dipping low, casting a golden glow across the paddock. You step out of your door, blinking in the sudden brightness, and almost collide with Oscar, who is coming the other way from his own room. For a second, you just stand there, the quiet stretching between you. It is one of those pauses that feel too long and too short all at once. Neither of you quite sure what to say first. You clear your throat. “Hey,” you greet him simply. “Good race today.” Oscar looks up, eyes meeting yours, and something flickers in his gaze—maybe surprise, maybe hesitation, maybe a trace of the old warmth. “You too,” he replies, voice low but genuine. “That pole lap was unreal yesterday. Meant to tell you that.” You feel a small smile tug at the corner of your mouth. “Thanks. Took me everything I had to pull that one off.” He smiles back, the kind of smile that used to make your heart skip in the early days. “Well, earned win, I'd call it. You looked solid out there.” “Yeah?” You shift your weight, suddenly aware of the awkwardness hanging between you. “You weren’t too bad yourself. I saw a few solid laps. Just maybe… pushing a little too hard in sector three?” Oscar gives you a tight laugh. “Yeah, that one was definitely me overcooking it. Could’ve ended worse. though” You nod, stepping forward, trying to make your way. “Altitude’s messing with all of us, huh? I swear it felt so fucking weird in the car today.” He chuckles, stepping alongside. “For sure. Feels like my head’s in a fog half the time. The fans, though—they’re something else. So much energy, even when we’re gasping for air.” You glance over, meeting his eyes again. “They do make it worth it. And the weather’s been surprisingly decent. Cooler than usual.” “Small mercies,” Oscar agrees, letting the tension ease out of his shoulders. You walk side by side, tentative at first, like old friends who haven’t talked in a while but want to pretend they didn’t miss it as much as they did. “So, what’s new? I saw you spend some time with Hattie last week,” you ask, voice casual but curious. Oscar shrugged. “Yeah I did, that was quite nice. But aside from that it's the same as always. Trying to keep my head down, get through the season without any more crashes or drama.” “Sounds about right.” You grin. “Guess we both have that in common.” He smiles, more relaxed now. “Yeah. Although I have to admit, seeing you out there flying… it’s hard not to feel a bit… outpaced.” You laugh, teasing, “Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve been holding your own.” “Maybe,” he mumbles, eyes softening, “But you’re definitely on a different level this year." "That pressure must be insane, huh?” You glance sideways, sensing the weight behind your words. “Yeah, it is,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I guess sometimes I wonder if I’m even in the right place anymore.” You hesitate, not wanting to pry but feeling the undercurrent of vulnerability. “Don’t say that, Oscar. You’re an incredible driver. You are fighting for the championship for the second year in a row. You are one of the fastest out there.” Oscar nods, eyes distant. “It’s like—no matter how fast I go, there’s always someone faster. And sometimes, it’s not just on track. It’s off it too.” “Yeah,” you look up at the sky, the sun dipping behind the grandstands. “It’s been a tough season for us in different ways, I suppose.” “Especially when the headlines don’t help,” he adds quietly. You smile wryly. “Tell me about it. Seems like everyone wants to write the next chapter of our careers before we even finish this one.” He chuckles, the sound warm and familiar. “At least we’re not alone in that.”

They say distance makes the heart grow fonder. Maybe it’s true, or maybe it’s just that sometimes, the silence between two people needs to be broken, even by the smallest, most ordinary moments. “So,” you say after a pause, “how’s life outside the track? Family, friends, girlfriend?” Oscar’s expression softens. “I don't know. Trying to keep up with the little things. You saw my sister in Austin. The normal stuff that feels weirdly foreign when you’re constantly on the road. No girlfriend unfortunately.” “No girlfriend, huh? A good looking lad like you should have someone by his side.“ His ears blush a tiny bit. You continue: „I get what you’re saying, tough. I miss simple nights, hanging out without the noise of cameras and expectations.” He smiles, nudging you lightly. „Was that why you were lashing you out with Verstappen ahead of the weekend?“ You laugh, nodding. “Yeah. Shooting tequila with Max and Checo, pretending we were just regular people for a bit felt good.” Oscar raises an eyebrow, amused. “You looked a bit worse for wear the next day though. Hangover?” “Maybe a little,” you admit. “But hey, still got good lap times in in free practice, didn’t I?” “That you did,” he grins. You walk through the paddock, the sound of your footsteps mixing with distant chatter. “So,” you venture, “what’s next for you?” Oscar shrugs again. “Keep racing. Try to find my rhythm again. Maybe figure out where I belong in all of this.” You nod, understanding more than you could say. “Same here,” you say softly. “Just… trying to make it count for as long as I can.” You reach the parking lot. Two different rented McLarens waiting, gleaming under the afternoon sun. The space between you feels bigger now, charged with everything not said in the last ten minutes. Oscar looks at you, eyes lingering. “See you in Brazil?” “Yeah,” you say, the word warm despite the distance. “See you.” You climb into your car and glance back once more, catching his lingering stare. In this quiet stretch of time, it was just you and Oscar—two drivers caught between what was, what is, and what might be. And somehow, walking together felt like a small, hopeful step forward.

📍Mexico City, Mexico

liked by mclaren, maxverstappen1 and 4.249.239 others

yourusername viva mexicoooooo 🇲🇽🦅 what a race. what a weekend. tequila-fueled thursday. victory-fueled sunday. (i’m sleeping for three days straight now, don’t call me)

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mclaren When you fly, we fly 🧡🇲🇽

liked by yourusername

f1 The definition of “commanding the weekend”! 🏆

redbullracing Good company brings good luck 😉 congrats on the win, [Y/N]!

maxverstappen1 fastest driver and fastest drinker this weekend🍻🇲🇽

schecoperez unreal pace! also: next time you’re buying

username2 Max hugging her like he’s welcoming her to the family… and Oscar standing 3 feet away pretending to check tire temps 😭

username4 Journalists: “Are you moving to Red Bull?” [Y/N]: wins race, hugs Max, posts tequila pics Us: got it. loud and clear.

username5 if mclaren lets her go after THIS weekend, they’ve lost the plot and maybe the championship too

now playing:

lover, you should've come over by Jeff Buckley growing sideways by Noah Kahan sweet talk by Saint Motel cigarette daydreams by Cage the Elephant all i wanted by Paramore you were good to me by Jeremy Zucker want you back by HAIM right were you left me by Taylor Swift ain't it fun by Paramore pink pony club by Chappell Roan

taglist:

@luvs4haechan @satorinnie @comfortzonequeen @pippyth3hippy @fcblb81 @piastribabe @edgyficuselastica @julyexx @saudianna @cherryhazee

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lottesreads · 3 months ago

Text

Why Me? - Part 14

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Mitchell! Female Reader (Callsign Mantis)

Warnings: Forbidden relationship, some angst, fluff (yes fluff this time), lying, talk of abuse, swearing, mentions of death and cancer

Word Count: 6500

Summary: Your stay at Bob's is over and it's time to go back to work. It's different this time, knowing the two of you are on the same page, and you're excited to see where it takes you. Even if that means hiding it from everyone else.

A/N: I'm back my beautiful folks, it only took me being disappointed in real men again to want to write about the perfect fake one. That and Thunderbolts. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! I love to hear what you think and I am very happy to be back :) (reblogs and comments make me happy btw)

It's also been so long I hope the taglist is accurate (but pls let me know if you want to be added or I missed you)

Masterlist

That weekend you don’t spend the entire time holed up in your room. You don’t cry again. And you don’t shut yourself off to the world. You see a reason to look for the sun behind the clouds, and when it finally emerges that Sunday afternoon, you take the time to allow yourself to feel it warm your skin. The gleam reflecting on that delicate butterfly pendant is what wakes you, and you know everything is going to be ok.

You’re at ease with your dad, granted, he’s still a bit upset with you. But “upset” with your dad means he just sighs at you every couple of hours and remembers that he loves you after he forgets what he was mad about. When he does that though, you get a little gnawing of guilt in the back of your head. Like his exhalation of breath is steadily blowing up a balloon of your own wrongdoings that could pop at any second.

As you get ready for work the next morning, combing your hair back so not a single stray stands out, you’re being pulled in different directions. Your dad wants to see you succeed, and you want him to be able to do that… from a safe distance. He and everybody else at work are your painful reality. And sometimes it’s good to remind yourself you can’t have everything. Not yet. On the other hand, you want to be happy outside of your career. And you think Bob can do that for you. More importantly you’re hoping you can do that for Bob.

Patience is a virtue, but you’ve decidedly been patient for long enough. For multiple things. Now you’re ready to take what you want. Even as your father’s bike rumbles out of the garage, you’re impatiently fiddling with your flight suit in the mirror. Your eyes run up and down your form several times, almost like anyone would notice a single wrinkle. Even so, you still find yourself smoothing out any irregularity, until you reach your face.

You had thought about covering the bruise with makeup, just to avoid the questioning. But what do you have to hide? This one was an accident this time.

She had usually refrained from actually hitting you in the face. Mostly just pushing and grabbing at your wrists to get your attention. It wasn’t uncommon for her to grip your chin in her cold hands and force you to look at her, but that rarely left any kind of mark to be covered. Only when she was uncontrollably angry would she leave a mark that could be so blatantly seen, so hard to cover up. One of those including the last time you saw her. When she left you crying on the floor of your bedroom while she made her plans to change the locks the next morning.

Often the blows to your face would be an open palm. One that would hurt enough to leave a sting and a faint flush that would be gone as quick as it came. The feeling, however, wouldn't disappear as fast. You’d be stuck with the memory of the burning sensation and gut wrenching fear for the rest of your life. There’s the occasional scar you’ll remember every once in a while that you’ll try to rub off from over your shirt or pants. But it’s already become a part of you. A part of your story you try not to dwell on no matter how hard your brain tries to get you to revisit.

A knock to the door has you flinching as you run to answer. Bob stands with his hands behind his back and dares to look surprised as you answer.

“Hey”, he greets you with a smile.

“Hey”, you breathlessly smile back. “You know you could have just texted me, right?”

“Uh”, he scratches the back of his neck as he walks you to his truck, “I guess, but that didn’t feel right to me.” He stands to open your door, and once again you are floored by this man’s chivalry. You smile as he slides in on his side.

The streets are still damp with whatever water mother nature rained down last night, and the slight chill from the walk to Bob’s truck gives you goosebumps under your flight suit. As Bob pulls away the radio turns on and he starts humming to the familiar Johnny Cash tune. You turn and smirk as he absentmindedly mouths the words.

“I fell into the burning ring of fire”, he mutters as you shake your head. He turns at the motion. “What?”

“You are not beating those country boy allegations, Bob Floyd.”

“Who said I was denying them?”, he asks with a nervous smirk.

The drive is short, but comfortable. Eventually your hands drift closer together the further into your conversation. But it’s cut short when you make it to the front gates. At the sight you pull your hand back to your lap. Bob tries not to take offense, he knows he’ll have to get used to this part.

Bob parks his truck and the two of you stare at the building in front of you. You’re both so unsure of how things are going to look when you step inside, but you know you’ll have each other.

“Hey”, Bob gently knocks his hand into your knee, “You ok?”

“Yeah”, you nod. This is something you’re good at, you remind yourself. Pretending. “We’re just carpooling to work for the same reasons we told my dad, ok?” Bob furrows his brow and nods, as if taking orders from a superior. “If anyone asks, stick to the story. And if you have to tell anyone, don’t make it sound too rehearsed or too casual.” His brow ticks up and you elaborate, “There’s a fine line in there- but you already did a good job with my dad. So, nothing to worry about, right?”

His brow is still furrowed in concentration but he forces the uptick of a smile. A grimace is what it is. You sigh and on instinct reach out to grab his hand before stopping and folding it in your lap instead. You realize you should have had a conversation before going to work, but this will have to do for now. “Just- act normal. We’re friends.”

“We are friends, Mantis”, he adds as you try not to get lost in his eyes. You know what he means. You were friends before you realized what you meant to each other, and you’re still friends. Nothing is going to change that.

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

You’re putting your bag in your locker when you hear Halo and Phoenix’s voices echoing across the tile. Taking a shallow breath, you grab what you need and turn to face them as they walk in.

“Morning!”, you smile.

“Morning, Mantis”, Phoenix responds before even looking at you. And then she turns. “Oh my GOD! What happened?!”, she asks as she gets close enough to inspect the bruise.

“It was an accident, I took a baseball to the face on Friday”, you tell her as she scrutinizes the mark.

“Why the hell would you even be near a baseball? There’s no need for-”, she stops herself before the steam starts pouring out of her ears. If you ever had any doubt she was protective- “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine”, you smile. Mostly just enraptured with the concern etched into her features.

“Ok… But say the word and I will be ready to bash in some skulls.” Begrudgingly, Phoenix allows you to finish what you were doing as Halo grimaces at your face. The three of you go on with your morning, walking to the classroom only to be greeted by more eyes on you. You’re really not meaning to, but you catch on to Bob as he gives you a small smile.

And even as Fanboy starts speaking, your eyes stop on Rooster as he sits in the back, head resting on his fist. You’re sure if no one was talking you could audibly hear him gulp as he eyes your bruise in regret.

“Whoa-”, Fanboy stares, “What the hell happened to your face?”. You stare at him straight in the eye as everyone else looks on.

“That’s rude”, you playfully scoff, “I don’t go around asking what’s wrong with your face”, you deadpan as Payback laughs from beside him.

“Man, c’mon”, he mutters as you smile.

“I wasn’t paying attention when playing catch. Not a big deal”, you finally tell him as you sit behind Bob. He tries best not to stare, but then his eyes move behind you and you almost swear there’s a glare under those lenses as he glances at Rooster.

“Welcome back everyone!”, your dad announces as he takes his place at the podium. “Glad to see you’re all in good shape”, his eyes graze the room and he winces at his choice of words once he sees you, “Well, most of you anyway.” You do your best not to roll your eyes as he gets on with the objectives for the week.

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

When lunch rolls around you’re feeling good. You’ve had the chance to get in the air, just to practice a few basic maneuvers, no dog fights quite yet, but you’re ready for whatever gets thrown your way. Everyone else is already in the mess hall, and you take the chance to enjoy the blue skies as you walk to join Bob. Still, you’re made aware of someone walking next to you and with a glance you realize the tall doofus is Rooster. He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel him glancing at your face again. You really thought after Friday he was going to try and stay away. But you guess it’s hard when you have to see each other every day at work.

“Can I help you-”

“Why are you covering for me?”, he asks, interrupting you. You furrow your brow and continue on. “You could have told them it was my fault.” You can’t help but scoff.

“I’m not gonna stir the pot, there’s no need for them to hate you more than they already do.” He huffs, half out of laughing and the other out of the truth.

“Well thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” You make it to the entrance of the mess hall and spot Bob waiting for you at his usual table. He hasn’t seen you yet, and you’re reminded of what made you run to him in the first place.

Rooster goes to walk off to his sad little table by himself, but at the last second you stop him.

“Wait”, he turns at your voice, “That box that you brought over, how long did you have it?” He shrugs, thinking back.

“A long time. I didn’t even know I had it until I started moving.”

“Did you have any idea what was in there?” He shuffles on his feet and starts picking at his thumbs. A nervous tick he’s had since he was a kid.

“I knew there was a letter for you. I didn’t open it. There was one for me, too.” He’s trying his best to look anywhere but at you. “Listen, if I knew what was in there I wouldn’t have left it sitting in storage for sixteen years.” He knows he’s not going to be on your good side in the near future. There wouldn’t be a reason for him to lie about this, and you’re inclined to believe him.

“Ok. Thank you.” The two of you stand there, longing to say anything else about the subject, to hear anything from a woman the two of you held so dear. Instead he clenches and unclenches his fist near his side. A way to stop himself from encroaching on your boundaries.

“You’re welcome”, he mutters indignantly. You sigh as you watch him walk away. Shaking the interaction off you make your way over to Bob.

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

The rest of the day goes by without a hitch. The rest of the week actually. Not a single thing out of place. Which unnerves you. Your dad has everyone back up in the air, practicing evasive maneuvers, target practice, any kind of skill the Navy doesn’t want rusting up before going back overseas. Whenever that’ll be.

You eventually tell Bob that he doesn’t have to walk up to your door every time he picks you up, but even as he texts you that he’s there, he’s waiting to open his truck door for you. And everytime it gets harder and harder to hide how giddy he makes you feel. You’re sure you can see on his face how he doesn’t tire of it. Almost like every time you walk out the door, he’s seeing you for the first time. And it makes you feel special. He makes you feel special.

Even when you don’t see each other over the weekend, the first weekend in a while that you decide not to see each other, you’re still texting almost nonstop. Your dad decided to spend the weekend with you, which you’re grateful for, but it’s kind of hard to pay attention to The Goonies when Bob keeps sending you pictures of Sylvia sleeping in precarious positions.

“What’re you laughing at?”, your dad asks as you shut your phone off.

“Nothing, just a stupid meme Phoenix sent me”, you easily lie before he turns back to the movie.

“Something I wouldn’t understand I’m assuming?” You fix your attention on his face in the glow of the tv. You take your concerns and shove them to the back of your mind as he chuckles at Sloth and Chunk sharing a Baby Ruth.

“No. Probably not.”

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

“Dude, why have you been giving Mantis rides for the past week?”, Fanboy asks Bob as he sits down across from him.. Bob swallows his mouth full of food before remembering to stay calm, despite his accelerated heart rate. He shrugs in an attempt to make it seem, as you said “casual”.

“Her car’s in the shop after she came over to help me look for Sylvia. She ran out during the storm, and while Mantis was helping me look her car took some damage.” He glances at Fanboy, who shrugs and decides it makes sense. But right as Bob thinks he’s in the clear, Fanboy has to pipe up again.

“Why didn’t you call me? I could have helped” Bob tries not to laugh as he remembers Sylvia booking it upstairs last time Fanboy came around.

“If she saw you, she would have run the other way.”

“Yet you called Mantis.”

“It’s cause Syl actually likes her.” Bob sees the real distress on his face as he picks at his food.

“You told me she was just shy”, he shrugs in response as you take your seat next to him.

“Hey, what happened to your car?”, Fanboy asks as you dig into your lunch. Your hand freezes for a split second. Bob can almost see it in real time how you adjust from your relaxed self.

“Oh, that- Well a palm tree fell on it and-”

“A palm tree?”, he almost shouts.

“Yes, a palm tree. Shop says it’ll take a while to have everything fixed, but they’ll be able to do it.” Bob wonders why you haven’t said anything to him about it. He tried asking you on a ride home last week why you wouldn’t just get a new car if the damage was that extensive, but you brushed him off. Saying something about how the car’s sentimental to you. Even if it is a hunk of junk.

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

Even in late September the heat radiating off the runway is enough to make you sweat. Not only that, but you’re about to head up in your jet which will make it even harder to see straight. You’re not gonna complain, though. It could be worse. You could be stuck in Lemoore, landlocked without a beach in sight. At least here you get the ocean breeze.

An arm makes its way across your shoulders, and you don’t even need to look over to know who it is.

“You ready to kick some ass?”, Phoenix asks as she marches alongside you. You can’t help but laugh. She’s been saying the same iteration of the same few words since you met. Whether it was for a test you stayed up late studying for, teaming up for a game of beer pong, and even when she threatened to go kick your ex’s ass when she lovingly named him “lieutenant douchebag”. But that’s a whole other story in itself. Just another time she had your back.

“You bet I am”, you respond with determination. Bob jogs up and meets Phoenix on her other side. You give him a look from over your sunglasses and he clears his throat.

“Hey Phoenix, your boot’s untied”, he points to her shoes as the three of you stop.

“You guys go on ahead”, she shoos you to keep walking as she kneels to relace her boot. The rest of the tarmac is almost empty, save for the few technicians tending to the jets. Still, you keep a safe amount of distance between yourself and Bob as you leisurely make your way further.

“So uh-”, Bob starts as you turn to spare a glance in his direction, “Are you doing anything Friday?”

“Depends on what you’re about to ask me”, you say with a small smirk.

“Well, I was wondering if…”, he stops to take a look around before continuing, scratching the back of his neck in the process, “maybe that might be a good day to go on that date we talked about?” Your knee jerk reaction is to smile, and it takes everything in you to chew your lip and look straight ahead.

“Yeah”, you cough, “That would work.” Phoenix makes her way back to the two of you and the conversation ends there. Bob nearly trips over his own feet as he tries to get a last glance of you when you stop at your jet, and you have to turn away in order not to laugh.

“Whoa, you alright there Floyd?”, you hear Phoenix ask him.

“Yeah- yeah I’m alright”, he mutters as you sneak a look at him. He catches your eye and your smile wins over.

That drive home you don’t hesitate to take his hand when his truck rolls off base. You try to hide your smile by staring out the window, but Bob can still see it in the way your eyes crinkle at the sides. He simply squeezes your hand and keeps on driving.

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

As soon as Friday rolls around, you’re having trouble trying to suppress your excitement for the night. Even as you beat Coyote in a dogfight, he raises an eyebrow at your overly animated figure giving him finger guns as he falls to do his pushups.

“Better luck next time Coyote!”, you throw over your shoulder as you head to lunch.

“Something’s different about you”, Phoenix comments under a squint while she points at you with her fork. She has you abruptly swallowing the bite of your lunch you were still chewing and you clear your throat before you choke.

“What are you talking about?”, you attempt to brush it off without even looking at her.

“I don’t know”, she muses. “You seem… lighter.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”, you ask with a dry laugh.

“No”, she waves her fork around again. Now sending salad dressing flying in specks over the table. “I just wanna know what changed.”

“Well”, you shift in your seat, “I have a standing therapy appointment every Wednesday and that’s been helpful.” Her eyes light up as she smiles. You didn’t realize you were so transparent. But maybe that’s just Phoenix. And your dad. They can see right through you even when you have trouble seeing yourself. Which is what makes it even harder to lie to them.

“That’s great!”, you nod in agreement and there’s a pause in the conversation before she mutters, “I thought you were on drugs or something.” You nearly spit your food out at the accusation.

“You do know what we do for a living, right? That’s a one-way ticket out of here.”

“I know, and I know you’re not the kind of person to go for that kind of thing… but it was just a big change in the last couple weeks.”

“Yeah”, you shrug, “I guess I just decided to stop wallowing and actually do something about it. Do things that will make me happy.”

“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep up with it. I don’t like seeing mopey Mantis, it makes me sad.”

“I was not being mopey”, you can’t help but scoff, even if there’s a bit of truth to her words.

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

Bob drops you off at your house as per usual, but this time he lets you know he’ll be back to pick you up at 6:30. You nod and squeeze his hand one last time before running out of his truck and into the house. That’s only two hours from now so you decide to start getting ready immediately. Wash the smell of jet fuel off of your skin. Primp yourself in a way that you haven’t in a long time.

Oh god, you don’t even remember the last time you had to get ready for a date. This was different though. This was Bob.

Of course, even if you are happy like you told Phoenix, not everything goes exactly the way you intend it to. Now for example. Bob will be picking you up for your date in the next few minutes and your dad is supposed to be with Penny tonight. The sound of his bike pulling into the driveway gives way for the first crack in this whole plan. This is how it starts, you think to yourself.

“Whoa, why are you all dolled up?”, your dad’s voice stops you in your tracks as you cap the lipgloss you just got done swiping on. He was not supposed to be here, damn it.

“What, a girl can’t wear a dress for no reason anymore?”, you try to brush him off. In your defense it is a basic yellow sundress, not that the man can differentiate any kind of dress from another. To him any kind of dress or skirt equals fancy.

“No”, he reasons, “Just wondering why you’re wearing one to go dogsit.” You scrunch your nose in frustration. Ensuring your cover, you told your dad you were dog sitting Sylvia while Bob went on a date. Which wasn’t entirely untrue.

“Oh I don’t know, I’m just sick of wearing a flight suit day in and day out. I need to feel like a girl.” The words weigh down on your tongue as you try to come off as light and airy. Bob was supposed to be here any minute, why isn’t this man at his girlfriend’s house?

He nods as if thinking it over and he just about leaves before tapping the frame of your door.

“Oh, did I mention Ice is thinking of having a retirement party?” You turn to stare at him without the barrier of your mirror.

“Really? Or do you mean Sarah wants to throw him one?” He smirks and shakes his head.

“Either way, he’s in remission now and I think it’s as good as any reason to celebrate.” You nod and take a deep breath. You both know having to retire because of cancer wasn’t ideal for Admiral Kazansky. For a while there you weren’t sure if he would recover. You’re just glad he’s finally getting the opportunity to celebrate his career in the Navy, even if it didn’t end the way he wanted it to. He still went out in a blaze of glory, putting your dad exactly where he needed him. Where Rooster and yourself needed him. You remind yourself to text him later.

Your dad walks back down the stairs and you glance at the clock. Bob should be here any second.

“I thought you were going to Penny’s?” You yell down to him as he goes to the kitchen.

“I was, but Jimmy’s sick so she’s covering for him.” You can hear the clink of a glass bottle as he opens the fridge and you roll your eyes.

“So instead of going to see your girlfriend where she works at a bar, you’re choosing to drink alone for the night?” There’s a moment of silence and you know he’s rethinking his choices. “I’m sure she’d be happy to see you during a long shift.” He places his drink back in the fridge, and before you’re done doing up your shoes, a knock comes from the door. Shit. “I’ll get it!”, you yell down the stairs.

“Bob, hey”, you hear your dad greet him as you awkwardly shuffle down the steps with only one shoe on, the other barely hanging on.

Your dad’s back is turned toward you as Bob stands at the door. “I’m sorry”, you mouth in an attempt to wipe the panicked look off of his face. The wide look in his eyes softens as your dad moves out of the way, opening up his view of you. He blinks a couple times to gather himself and you’re able to admire what he’s wearing. It’s not dissimilar to what he wore to brunch, a button up shirt rolled up at the sleeves, tucked into some nice slacks. He awkwardly waves at you, and you’re stuck staring into his blue eyes.

“So Mantis tells me you’re going on a date?” The panicked look reappears on his face, and you cringe as he stumbles through his words.

“Uhh- yes sir. I- I am.”

“Good for you”, he claps him on the shoulder and if you’re not mistaken Bob flinches at the contact. “How’d you meet her, one of those apps?” A sense of calm washes over Bob as he takes a look at you.

“No actually. I met her at the Hard Deck, sir.” Your heart warms as you walk closer to where the two men are standing. “She just caught my attention, and I haven’t been able to look away since.” Before your dad can sense the shift in energy, you clear your throat and take Bob by the arm.

“Right then”, you interrupt, “We should get going so you’re not late.” Bob’s feet follow the rest of his body as you drag him out to his truck and just when you think you’re out of reach your dad yells out the front door.

“Have fun Bob, be safe!”, he chuckles as you turn to him with wide eyes. Leave it to your father to embarrass you in front of someone he doesn’t even know you’re going on a date with. Parents must have the uncanny ability to know exactly when you’ll feel embarrassment the most, even if they don’t have any clue what they’ve done.

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

“Sorry about him”, you break the silence, “he was supposed to be with Penny.”

“Not a problem”, he glances over at you. “You look beautiful by the way.” You can feel your cheeks heat up as you smooth down the skirt of your dress.

“Thank you. You look really nice, too.” You reach over and take his hand, he squeezes a couple times as you let the radio take over the comfortable silence.

Of course Bob opens your door for you, and as soon as you're out of the truck he leads you up the walkway beating you to the front door. You’re not sure what to expect as he faces you.

“Now I know we can’t go out and have a normal date, but I’m hoping this might make up for it.” Reaching for the handle, he opens the door and follows you in.

“Bob”, you gasp. He walks behind you as you try to find every detail in what was once his kitchen. What stands before you now is a homey, dimly lit dinner. There’s a tablecloth over the old table you ate french toast at a couple weeks ago, plates are set with the appropriate silverware and napkins are folded underneath them. The sun peaking through the windows is the only thing lighting up the kitchen where an aroma of tomato, garlic, and herbs emanate your senses.

“It’s too much isn’t it?”, you turn as he rubs the back of his neck. Shaking your head you can’t hide your smile, and you can see the tension leave his shoulders.

“No, it’s- it’s perfect. When did you have time to do all this?” His hand finds the small of your back as he pulls your chair out for you.

“Well, I had this planned ever since I asked you out. I just kept putting off asking you again for some reason.”

“I already said yes, did you think I’d say no?” He bobs his head back and forth as he enters the kitchen, making you turn in your seat to watch him. He doesn’t answer as he grabs the food warming in the oven. “Bob”, you gape.

“I know you wouldn’t, but deep down there was some part of me that thought it was too good to be true.” He plates up your food and sets it down in front of you as you stare at him the entire time. The sun from the early beginnings of dusk settle over him and cast him in a soft glow. He belongs in this light you think. Brings to life the warm fuzzy feeling you get whenever you look at him.

“If it makes you feel better, sometimes I think you’re too good to be true.” He scoffs, but even as you reach across he still gives you his hand to squeeze

“Thank you”, he says as his eyes settle on you. He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the daze you’ve put him in. “I hope you’re hungry.”

The two of you sit, eating a delicious meal that Bob made from scratch. Which you compliment him on and he accepts with a blush. He explains how Phoenix gave him the recipe, some family heirloom she wasn’t too eager to give over, but she only did it because it was for him.

You continue to compliment him over and over on his cooking and attention to detail, although you shouldn’t be surprised. He is a man of precision, and you’re sure he’d be able to follow a simple recipe, but still. He did this for you, and it makes it even better.

The two of you sit at the table a bit longer, talking about everything and nothing. You sit until the sun starts to fall further into the sky, painting the kitchen in a golden hue. You stay that way until Bob starts taking your plate to the sink. You move to get up and help start the dishes, but he turns and gives you a pointed stare. You try to play innocent but he sees right through it, stopping you and taking the dishes from your hands.

“I was thinking we could go for a walk.” A distraction more like. “It’s real close. We could walk to the beach, and if by chance we see anyone we know, we tell them my date ended early and I was repaying you with ice cream.” Distraction or not, it works. But you can’t help but feel grateful and sad at the thoughtful notion.

Bob pointedly gives a look to the neighbors house as he takes Sylvia’s leash in one hand, and leaves the door open for you. He walks closest to the road with Sylvia, letting his free hand fall between the two of you. You offer the same as the backs of your hands brush together as you walk.

The two of you make the short walk to the ice cream shop you passed weeks ago, the one you barely remember making some short remark about. Of course he remembered. The sun casts a golden hue over your figure which distracts Bob long enough for you to pay. He tries to grumble, but you silence him with a look.

“You made dinner, I buy dessert”, you tell him. He shakes his head, but the two of you keep walking. You talk about mindless favorites, colors, animals, what you were obsessed with when you were kids. And you find out Bob had an obsession other than planes while growing up.

“You’re kidding me? Bugs?” He nods as you lead him and Sylvia to rest at a bench.

“Nope, I was pretty into the outdoors as a child. Helps that I grew up doing work outside and I’d find all sorts of things in the fields.” You can’t help but laugh at the irony. While you happen to not be a fan of bugs, particularly the praying mantis, Bob has had a soft spot for them this entire time.

“I even had a journal of all the insects I’d find. Wrote everything I could about them, even included a little drawing.”

“Your own encyclopedia”, you smile. He laughs while you attempt to turn back to your ice cream. If you ignore it any longer it will melt all over your dress. You sit for a bit longer admiring the view over the ocean, but you know you need to head back soon. The sun is disappearing beyond the horizon and you wish for just one moment it would stop. Because in this second, right here with Bob, even out in the open for anyone to see, you feel free.

A Beach Boys song starts playing somewhere further along the beach and you both turn your heads at the sound. As the music continues to set the soundtrack to the night, a couple start to stand and sway together on the sand. They stumble a couple times on the uneven terrain but laugh it off and continue to move together.

Feeling Bob’s eyes on you, you turn to look back at him. He gives you a small smile drawing attention to the small dab of chocolate ice cream at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, you’ve got a little something right here”, you motion at your own face as he tries to wipe it clean with his hand. His attempt only smears it even more and you laugh as he continues to try and get rid of it. Relenting, you reach and wipe the melted chocolate off with your thumb. You slowly swipe over the corner of his lips, and with no napkin to wipe away the mess you’re left to lick it off your finger.

Bob just about chokes on air at your absentminded motion, but he manages to recover quickly. Hiding his shock under a cough as he stands. He stops himself from lingering on your hand after he offers his own to help you up, but you see the small twitch in his fingers as they fall back to his side.

The walk back is slower than the way over. You’re trying to savor this time, but much like ice cream you only have a short window before it’s gone. Hands brushing against each other, time starts to drip away as you get closer to the house. Your gaze is stuck on Bob the whole time, and you soften at the view. You’re surprised the ice cream didn’t melt any quicker in your hand the way you’re warming from the inside out.

He leads you through the front door and you stop in the living room as Sylvia pads off for bed. It’s already been a few hours since you got there and you know the end of the night has come. Bob steps forward and takes your hand in his. His thumb draws mindless shapes over the back of your hand. Reaching forward, you draw his face to look up at yours.

“You ok?”, you ask. He nods in your hand with a soft smile adorning his lips. You’re both thinking the same thing, you know it. There’s a bittersweet feeling that you can’t go out normally, that tonight might be a one off of walking together, getting ice cream. Normal date things.

“If this were any other ordinary date for you, what would you do differently?” You venture to ask. He takes a second to find his answer, still rubbing soft circles on your skin.

“I would have held your hand as we walked”, he brings your hand up as he kisses the back, “Put my arm around your shoulders as we watched the sunset”, he sets your hand over his shoulder, “And you know what I really wanted to do?” You shake your head as he takes your other hand in his, resting his free hand over your waist, eliciting a smattering of butterflies through your stomach. “I really wanted to ask you to dance.”

You shake your head as you relinquish your hold on Bob for a quick second. He furrows his brow as you scroll through your phone. Seconds later the melodic voices of the Beach Boys singing Don’t Worry Baby fill the living room. He laughs through a shy smile as you set your phone down and resume your position, only this time you put yourself a little closer to him.

“No reason we can’t do that right here”, you tell him. The song plays on as you rest your head on his shoulder, he soon follows suit and rests his head over your own. You’re surrounded by his scent and the only thing you can feel is him. The two of you sway slowly to the tune, but half of it is muffled by the sound of Bob’s heart beating.

Well it’s been building up inside of me

For, oh, I don’t know how long

I don’t know why

But I keep thinking

Something’s bound to go wrong

You know he can feel you smile through his shirt because you feel him do the same above you.

“You know”, he whispers, “even if we could have done this, it wouldn’t have been any other ordinary kind of date.” You lift your head to get a better look at him.

But she looks in my eyes

“Why’s that?”, you whisper back, unintentionally flicking your eyes to his lips and back.

“You’re not any other ordinary kind of person.” His eyes follow your same motion as you don’t even try to suppress your admiration for this man.

And makes me realize

And she says “Don’t worry baby”

“Neither are you, Bobby.” And as fast as you’ve gone before, it’s almost agonizingly slow before the two of you meet in the middle. His lips are soft on yours, but not only that. They’re gentle. Much like the rest of him. The two of you take your time savoring each other. In the back of your mind you know you’re not worried about someone seeing this time. In the safety of Bob’s home and Bob’s arms you’re at peace. You move at your own pace and everything is perfect. Almost.

Don’t worry baby

Everything will turn out alright

Don’t worry baby

A/N: I love Val Kilmer and his death really solidified the fact that Ice was going to live on in this story. I hope it brings a little bit of comfort to other people, not just myself.

Taglist:

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#top gun maverick #lewis pullman #why me?#bob floyd fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x reader #mavdad #bob x reader #robert bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd x female reader #top gun fandom #bob x female reader

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saturnville · 1 year ago

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a night off, l. hamilton

pairing: he (lewis hamilton) x black!wife (she) content: she encourages her husband to take a night off. warning: angst. minor disagreements. an: thank you for reading <3 let me know what you think! tags: @boujiestpoet @mauvecherie-writes @saintslewis @greedyjudge2 @vile-harlot @emjayewrites @ggaslyp1 @neeville

“Can you just relax, please?”

He was a self-proclaimed workaholic. Breaks did not exist in his world. Rest was just as foreign as a language different from his native one. If he wasn’t frequently working, he was unsatisfied with himself and his efforts. He refused to be seen as lazy or anything aside from a hard worker. He was a self-proclaimed workaholic who needed a night off. Just one.

“No, baby. I gotta get this done,” he mumbled, mindlessly pecking her cheek as she rose from her position on his lap in frustration. His laptop had more of his attention than his sanity did and it drove her mad. She glanced at the screen. Whatever he was working on had a deadline more than three months away. She’d be damned.

Despite his protests, she clicked “save” on the document, closed the computer, and tucked it under her arm along with his phone. There was no way she’d allow him to overwork himself, especially not during a trip that had been planned for the sole purpose of escaping the normal day-to-day responsibilities he had.

His grumbling was muffled and incoherent as she retreated further and further from the dining room where he was. She trekked up the stairs and into their shared bedroom. On the nightstand closest to her side of the bed, she placed his laptop and phone. Then, she made her way back downstairs.

Her husband wasn’t where she left him, rather sitting on the couch, arms crossed with a television show playing on the large platform television ahead of him. She rolled her eyes in amusement. He was unbelievable.

“You can’t have your way so you resort to this?” Her voice made his head whip around. His expression was blank.

“I mean yeah. You took my phone and computer. What else am I supposed to do?”

Her jaw ticked and anger began to bubble deep within her. He was unbelievable and she was ready to blow a gasket. “You’re supposed to relax, Lewis! That’s why we’re here. If you wanted to do the same regular-degular stuff, we could’ve done it at home. You complain about how we hardly have time together, but look! You’re in this overly-priced villa with a beautiful wife and you won’t even take the moment to relax with her. I could have stayed home if I knew you loved work more than you do me.”

Lewis stood from the couch at her comment. “That is not true and you know it.”

“Do I?” She snapped before turning on her heels to walk up the stairs. The slam of the bedroom door was the last thing he heard before he was met with utter silence. Sheesh.

The bath water scorched her skin just the way she liked. The suds surrounded her like a cape and she basked in the cover it provided. The speaker she brought from home played her favorite songs from Snoh Aalegra.

It had been over an hour since their last interaction and she needed time to herself before facing him again. She tried to understand her husband’s mindset and for the most part, she did, but she firmly believed in rest. And the fact that he refused to do so, especially after she planned an elaborate vacation for them, hurt her feelings. It made her wonder what about spending time with her was so repulsing that work took more of his attention than she did.

Sighing, she moved her arms in the water, preparing to dunk her head beneath the water until she heard the door peel open slowly. “Baby?” His voice was gentle, much different from the fierceness it held just an hour ago. She did not object, so the door opened wider and his body appeared.

He closed the door behind him to keep the humidity from escaping the room and leaned against the counter. His muscles flexed as he put his weight on his arms. She turned to meet his eyes, which were filled with regret. Her eyebrow quipped. “What’s up?” Her volume was slow and her tone was even.

“Room for another?”

She nodded. Lewis’s hands went to his outfit, a matching sweatsuit, which he plucked off piece by piece. She leaned forward to make room for his strong body, which was more comfortable than the porcelain tub. Her husband’s tattooed hands found themselves palming her body--his left hand around her growing belly and his right squeezing her breasts. As much as she tried to fight it, her eyes fluttered closed and her head fell against his shoulder. Lewis’ lips pressed against her temple firmly.

Silence surrounded them for many moments before he spoke up. “I didn’t mean to disregard you. I never want to be the reason why you feel ignored and unwanted. I’m not good at breaks and you know this, but it was no excuse. You put so much time into this and I blatantly ignored it--I’m sorry, beloved.”

She didn’t speak verbally, but the squeeze of his hand let him know she heard him. But, because she said nothing, he continued, “I’m all yours.”

“You promise?” She spoke quietly.

Lewis's lip pulled in the corner. They were okay.

“Am I too heavy?” She sounded unsure as she hovered over her husband’s muscular body. Her body had changed tremendously as she was carrying their child. Normally, she didn’t worry about it too much, but she had moments where her thoughts got the best of her. He found her beautiful in every state she was in, but even more so in the current one. She was carrying his child--how could he see any flaw within her?

Lewis shook his head against the pillow, “No, baby, never.” She squeaked out a quiet okay before finally putting her full weight on him, which made no difference to him.

In her hands, she poured a considerable amount of oil into her palms, rubbed her hands together, and caressed his soft skin. The sounds he released were music to her ears and had a soft smile spreading across her lips. “Feel okay?”

He groaned softly, “Feels amazing.” Silence, save for his sounds of approval, surrounded them. This was was he needed. The closeness, the intimacy, the love between a man and his caring wife during the hardest parts of his life. It was moments like these that he cherished deeply and would do so forever.

Almost thirty minutes passed before she complained of her body becoming sore. Lewis adjusted their position so her head was against the pillow and her legs were spread just enough to welcome his body. She smiled at him as she welcomed the kisses he planted on her neck and collarbone. “Thank you, baby. Let me return the favor…”

With that, his hands palmed her thighs and pushed them upward. Her eyes fluttered as she prepared for the best. His lips caressed her sensitive skin and she sighed softly, her fingers finding themselves in her hair. He melted into the embrace of her legs and soon the room filled with whispers that turned into loud cries that played on repeat even when it was all said and done.

They drifted off to sleep during the early hours of the morning, wrapped in the love of each other. With her bare body against his, she said, “See what happens when you take a night off?”

Lewis chuckled and poked her side. “Yeah, yeah. I love you…”

“I love you more.”

#saturnville #black!reader #black reader #original writing #original content #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x black!reader #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #sir lewis hamilton #f1 x black!reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #Spotify #lewis hamilton x black female oc

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dailydragon08 · 7 months ago

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OT Gang Reacts: Realizing You're Not Doing Well Mentally & How They Take Care of You

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

Through no fault of her own, Leia is so busy running a rebellion, trying to kickstart a new regime, and making sure what’s left of Alderaan’s population is taken care of, she might not recognize the signs that you’re not doing well at first—especially if you’re trying to hide them. She might suspect something here and there, but at first figures you’re just having a bad day or week and will turn around soon. When you start acting out a bit more over a longer period of time, she realizes that’s not the case and feels horrible for not doing something sooner. She immediately pulls strings to lighten your workload and invites you to a private dinner in her quarters, the menu full of all your favorite comfort foods. Once there, she says she realizes you’ve been acting off and reminds you she’s here to talk, support you, and that if you need a break, you should take it. She doesn’t want you permanently damaging your mental health for the sake of the rebellion/New Republic when someone can easily take over your duties for a while. She gets you all set up in a place that’s pretty, peaceful, and out of the way for as long as you need and makes sure she carves out time in her busy schedule each day to spend time with you—all comms and notifications are off to make sure she can give you her undivided attention should you need it. She’s very protective over you as well, and if someone tries to suggest you come back before you’re ready or you don’t really need this break, she lays into them and puts them in their place so they never bring it up again.

Luke, of course, can sense the second you start slipping through the Force. He doesn’t want you to feel smothered or like he sees you as incapable, so he watches for a bit, but of course he’s worried. Suddenly, he’s extra attentive and gentle with you, asking if you need help, if can he bring you anything, making absolutely sure he saves you a seat next to him during meetings, sending you small smiles and gentle arm/hand squeezes much more often, etc. He would try to subtly help out at first, suggesting you meditate with him (even if you’re not Force-sensitive), teaching you some yoga/tai-chi poses, making you tea with herbs that are known to promote relaxation, buying you little things here and there like fidget toys, mandala coloring books, fictional books that he knows you like so you can escape and relax for a bit, etc. Eventually, if things don’t improve on their own, during a meditation session, he gently brings up that he can sense you haven’t been doing well for a long time and he would really love to help. He reminds you that he’s always here for you and if you need him to fly you somewhere remote for a little vacation, he’s sure he could get the higher-ups to approve it (he is a commander, after all). If you take him up on it, he really enjoys having one-on-one time with you away from everything and continues doing everything he can to make you feel better—and even continues the same practices after you’re healed, just to remind you daily how much he cares for you.

Han isn’t the best at expressing or talking about his emotions, but he’s definitely worried. Although most people see him more as the “brawn” of the group, he does catch onto things quickly and can tell when you’re not returning his quips and banter that something isn’t right. At first, he’ll try to help by complimenting you more in his own sarcastic way and making lots of self-deprecating jokes to get a smile out of you. If you need more, the next step is blowing off some steam via rage room, shooting range, ax/knife throwing, distracting you with a Dejarik game aboard the Falcon, etc. Little things here and there start showing up, like your favorite snacks/meals (“I’ve always had these in stock on the ship, what do you mean you’ve never seen them before?”), anything broken is immediately fixed within a day or two, buying you a new jacket when yours rips on a mission, etc. He never does get very vocal or explicit in his support, but you might be able to get a “you’re gonna be all right, kid” out of him a few times. Either way, there are many more squeezes and pats to the shoulder, and you can tell through his actions he's trying to be there for you and wants you to feel better.

I honestly think Lando would be one of the first out of the group to notice something’s wrong (after Luke, of course, since he has the Force) and act the fastest. He’s immediately pulling you aside and asking if you’re all right and if you need a little Cloud City vacation. He doesn’t want to push if that sounds like something that might overwhelm you, but insists it would feel good and he would make sure you’re completely pampered, with your stay 100% tailored to you. Until then, he’s spoiling you rotten. I firmly believe his top love language is gifts, and he’s buying you all the nicest comfort items you could need (spread out, of course, so he doesn’t smother you on accident). If you do finally decide to take him up on his vacation offer, he finds an entire rental house that’s out of the way with a great view of the city and sky, but still close enough to the main city to quickly find amenities and things to do. He’s of course there with you, either spending time with you or just checking in to make sure you have everything you need if you want some alone time, making sure to deliver any items or meals to you personally to ensure they get exactly where they need to go. If you’d rather go out, he’s taking you to all the nicest places, insisting you don’t worry about the price and get whatever/however much you want.

Although Chewie (platonic) can’t speak your language and can’t do a lot, he realizes you’re not okay immediately and becomes very protective over you. If someone’s giving you trouble or trying to force/shame you into doing something you don’t have the capacity for, he’s instantly growling/roaring in their face, putting himself between you and the other person in a clear sign to back off. He makes sure to give you lots of hugs and rushes to bring you anything you might need to get up for or go pick up.

C-3PO (platonic) has an extensive database of different species’ behavior, including emotional issues and states, although he’s never seen it in real-time. As a protocol droid, he’s of course offering to serve you in any way he can and lets you know that all you have to do is ask. R2-D2 (platonic) of course echoes his sentiments, and is instantly zipping around to do little tasks here and there to make your life easier, even playing bits and pieces of holomovies on his projector when there are lines of one character complimenting or supporting another to try and get his message across.

Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added): @kaleidoscope1967eyes @masterlukessaber @coffeeorsomething-irl @lxstfathier @rogue-kenobi @sonofthedunes @pomplalamoose @lex-the-flex @myevilmouse @goddessesofeverything @acupnoodle

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deadghosy · 1 year ago

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FRIENDSHIP HCS WITH HAZBIN HOTEL CAST

Various x GN! READER

LUCIFER

You are his first best friend who understood his divorce and mostly how depressed he was after Lilith. But you helped him see better light at spending time with his daughter as he didn’t know how to talk to his daughter after years.

This man is clingy towards you at time. Literally he is calling your hellphone 24/7 out of his time and your time. One time you overslept and didn’t answer his calls. This motherfucker called you 69 times and next thing you know, your wall is busted to find a full demon formed worried Lucifer. After he had seen you were alive and well he smiles awkwardly at your wall.

Lucifer makes it know that you are his best friend so you won’t be harmed. But also you might be targeted, he knows he would snap a demon in half if you came into harm’s way.

This man literally sends you ducks in your mailbox. One time he made you a duck theme birthday party with your favorite colors with the cast of the hotel staff.

Lucifer and you have matching duck onesies, outfits, rings, shirts that says “I’m the duckling” and “return duckling to older duck”. You were immediately embarrassed but wore it for his sake.

One time you had to take off the matching duck ring to wash dishes and Lucifer came to your place ready to rant about this duck he made for you so you can blow bubbles with it. As soon he sees you without the ring, he is gasping dramatically asking you if you don’t want to be friends with him with a kicked puppy expression. You sighed at the powerful man saying no as you dried your hands off putting the ring back.

If you had a nightmare, he would be there. If your cramping to pain, he would be there. Oh you’re crying? He’s there with a napkin. Literally he’s there for you as you were there for him when he couldn’t get over Lilith.

ANGEL DUST

If you came from the same industry as him, yeah you both talk shit about Valentino. Like bad shit to the point you two are laughing like hyenas from lion king.

If you aren’t from the industry he is in. You support him. Bread is bread.

I can see Angel always making you two shop and go clubbing as a way to keep you happy and show you how much he cares about your happiness.

I also headcannon that his hugs are like heaven itself with his many arms and his chest fluff. You nuzzle your face in his chest fluff as he chucks with you.

You both make dirty jokes to the point people are sick of it in the hotel or in public. It’s funny to make each other laugh but everyone else insufferable by the jokes.

You two definitely watch RuPaul's Drag Race as you both would make comments on the people in it. Thank god you died with a human world tv.

CHARLIE

She’s like her father but less clingy.

Matching bracelets, match outfits, matching everything as she wants you to redeem if you are a sinner. But if you aren’t a sinner that means she doesn’t have to cry about you leaving her.

You are know as either the princess’s “pet” or just her best friend as it’s pretty clear you two are close.

If you are in a royal family like her, you could definitely help her hotel go into business as you can’t let a friend’s dream go into waste.

VAGGIE likes you as you help her girlfriend around the hotel and herself.

You went out one night as Charlie was worried like a mother who lost her child. She had to send Alastor to find you as he found you at a shopping mall getting clothes. After Charlie scolded you about dangerously is at night. You gotta admit you felt attached to Charlie after she shown her worried side at you.

You two got closer as you two bake cookies for the hotel staff. Hell you even help Charlie get ready for a date with vaggie and it’s funny seeing Charlie freak out over a simple outfit decision.

VAGGIE

If you two knew each other by being angels together, you were saddened to know she was left in hell as you stayed in heaven. As you see her again in court, your eyes light up. Her eyes tear up hugging you. It was an amazing sight in-front of Charlie as Charlie introduced herself. You smile at Charlie and made her feel welcome.

After knowing her plans to redeem sinners, you agree with her like Emily does. It was sad to you again to see vaggie and Charlie go back to hell defeated.

If you are a sinner or hell born, she definitely didn’t trust you at first but soon trusted you not feeling any malice intentions. So you two definitely got along.

You two make sure the hotel is fine.

If VAGGIE chooses to tell you that she is actually an angel, you support you and figure a way for her and Charlie to talk it out. But if Adam bets it to you, vaggie rant about how much an ass adam is for spelling the beans before vaggie can do it with your help.

I headcannon vaggie to be a friend who would listen to your problems a lot and try to fix them but can’t as she doesn’t know how to specifically help you. But she tries her hardest as she always do.

I also headcannon vaggie to let you do her hair as she finds it’s nice to have a friend who is there for her like her girlfriend Charlie. Charlie is also glad to see her partner have a best friend.

ALASTOR

Who would know that the old man had a friend.

PFTTT THIS OLD FUCKER USES YOU AS A ARMY REST! If you are short of course which is obvious that this mf is tall as hell.

If you two knew each other and were partner in crimes and died in hell. He is literally making you an overlord too. He doesn’t have time to worried about you being killed in hell. Plus if you didn’t die to someone. He is killling them in a slow agonizing death for the punishment of killing you.

I headcannon this mf waiting for you in hell after he died, he literally taps his foot checking his wrist hearing you scream. You drop next to him as his shadows place you down lightly beside him.

“What took you long darling!” He says with his creep grin. “I tried to kill the fucka who murdered ya ass” you said as he drops you to the ground due to your foul language.

But yeah I can see you two being platonic soulmates or partners in another life.

I headcannon Alastor sending his shadow minions to find you or just at least check up on you so he can make sure you are safe. Alastor isn’t big on showing PDA. But he definitely shows it by his shadow minions.

You could be having a bad day and he send his demons to give you a puppet show. You chuckle at how dumb it is but at least Alastor smile knowing you are smiling.

HUSK

This grumpy son of a gun will drink listening to you rant, literally you could rant about how some demon tried to rob you and he would drink nodding away.

You had to hide his booze.

But if he was sober, he would still be the same. But slight more grumpy as booze lightens him up.

I headcannon husk that he waltz on drunk into your room and snore beside you who literally got done watching a horror movie.

Bro woke up on the floor with a show thrown at him.

Husker lets you touch his paws as your eyes light up with stars at this. He literally grumbles with purrs erupting from his chest. Hell he knows he purrs but hates it.

One time you pet his wings and his purr was so loud, you both had derpy shocked faces. Ever since that day, you tease him badly about it as he grumbles flipping you off.

He is also the kind of friend to actually listen to you and solve your issues but not fully as it’s your problems and not his. He is just a drunk bartender

I headcannon you two argue over uno to the point you two actually almost fought. Thanks to Charlie who broke you and husk apart from ripping each other throats open.

I headcannon husk curls like a cat when sleeping, so if he is drunk in your room. He sleeps on your bed like a cat as you just sit there confused with a tired expression.

NIFFTY

You two cause so much chaos.

This little manic always cleans your room first.

I can see her telling you about people she killed with a smile on her face. You guys have a dance party when no one is looking as it fun with each other.

One time she accidentally cut her finger and you helped her get a bandage with a skull on it. And she loved it! She asked more of the bandages you got as she loved the design.

Niffty who sleeps on your bed when she misses you

Niffty who stabs bugs in your room who dares to scare you if you don’t like bugs.

SIR PENTIOUS

He lets you take care of his eggs boiz.

You and him bake cookies for each other out of friendship, he made cookies that look like you. It was poorly drawn but it melted your heart. You shown him your cookies that looked like him and he was in tears hugging as he felt amazed at you making cookies for him.

He wraps his tail around you if you both are watching a horror movie. You guys have matching bracelets with your favorite color and his favorite color. When Charlie first heard and seen it, she almost bursted into tears seeing it as it was so adorable.

He literally rants about his creations and killing machines. He was gonna make you his number 1 right hand before he went to the hazbin hotel. You joined him to the hazbin hotel as you two share a liking towards Charlie and her dreams.

But after you and Pentious died and got redeemed together. You two cried holding each other hoping the others were safe in the battle of the angels.

That’s all I have for the headcannons in my head. But I hope you love em.🔥

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin x you #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin husk #hazbin lucifer #hazbin vaggie #hazbin niffty

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lustfulslxt · 2 years ago

Note

ok, hear me out. so reader decides to try out the red nail theory and shows them to matt, and he freaking adores them, but adores the marks they leave on his back even more😏😏idk if you dont wanna thats completely fine, but i just got red nails for the holidays and all i can think about is scratching up matts back...

Say Thanks - Matt Sturniolo

warnings : smut, filthy matthew

—

It’s been a while since I’ve gotten my nails done, and I so badly want to go get them done right now. However, bills exist and with my roommate moving out, everything’s been piled on top of me all at once. It’s stressful to say the least, but I just need to find my footing. It’s not that I can’t afford it, I just have a really bad spending habit, that I didn’t realize is an actual issue until a couple of weeks ago. I used to just work, pay my portion of the bills, save a bit of money, then blow the rest of it on whatever I wanted. Now, I just have to learn to budget.

Saying that, I’ve not really been going out of my way to splurge on things that make me feel good. I’ll get back to eventually, but unfortunately, I can’t afford to right now.

Despite knowing that I should focus on getting my money right, I can’t help but look into my spare cash, crossing my fingers in hopes that I have enough. Before I can even begin counting, my phone flashes and vibrates, indicating I have a new notification.

Matt sent you $100 for your nails❣️.

My eyes widen, a gasp leaving my mouth as I read the words displayed on the screen. Immediately, I’m facetiming Matt.

“Hey.” He answers, instantly, a knowing grin on his lips.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me mister. Why did you just send me money?” I question, glaring at him through the screen.

“Hmm. I’m pretty sure I said it’s for your nails.” He answers, then continues, “You can say you don’t need it all you want, but I know how bad you’ve been wanting to get them done. And if you haven’t, then you just can’t right now. Which is why I wanna do it for you.”

“Matt-“

He cuts me off, “Y/N, shut up and accept my offering. Come over after you get them done?”

“Fine.” I sigh, giving in.

“Great, I can’t wait to see them. Maybe then you can show me just how thankful you are.” He suggests, his lips wide with a smirk.

My jaw drops at his proposal, completely bewildered at his comment, the underlying meaning far from missed. I can’t help but bite my lip as I look away from the screen, my skin ultimately flushing.

“I already scheduled your appointment with Analysse. She’ll be there in fifteen. I expect to see you no later than an hour and a half.” He informs me.

“Yes sir.” I say, unable to prevent the smile that pulls itself to my lips. “Thanks, Matty.”

“Of course, doll. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, we hang up and I’m left to sit in my puddle of confusion and eagerness. Matt and I are only friends. There’s always times where we’re flirty and we’ve always been close, physical touch being our love language. However, his actions and statements today threw me for a loop. I’m sure I’m not misinterpreting it, he seemed very suggestive. Honestly, I don’t even mind that, I just don’t know if he’s only messing with me or if he’s serious. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

“Hey babe, how are you doing?” Analysse greets me, unpacking her supplies.

“I’ve been good, just learning to adjust to new things. How have you been? I feel like it’s been ages since I last seen you.” I reply, sitting on the opposite side of the desk.

“I know! It’s been so long! I’ve been great though. Just living life and doing what I love.” She nods, a smile blossoming on her face.

“That’s amazing, I’m glad to hear.”

“Thank you. So, what are we thinking?” She asks me, all her supplies laid out in front of us.

“Probably just a simple red, maybe like medium length. Hm, not too long but long enough to leave marks.” I explain, smirking at the thought of digging my nails into Matt’s back.

“Ouu, okay.” She giggles, grabbing my hands to prep my nails. “So, are we talking about Matt? I mean, he is the one that reached out to me to book this appointment for you.”

I can’t help the warmth that rushes to my cheeks, “Yeah, I’ve been wanting to get my nails done again. Life just hasn’t been working in my favor.” She nods in understandment, listening to me rant. “Let’s just say, he’s got me thinking about a lot.”

Her mouth opens, laughter pouring out of it, “Oh, I get you. We’ve all had one of those.”

We continue talking and sharing stories as she does my nails. The conversation goes from boys, to makeup, to careers, to food, and just about everything under the sun. Once she’s done, I pay and tip her, and bid her on her way.

Since I still have some time before I have to be over at Matt’s, I decide to take a shower to freshen up. Seeing as I really only had around an extra thirty minutes, I decide to make it quick. I swiftly wash up and rinse off, hurrying out to dry off and get dressed. After applying deodorant and lotion, I slip on my shoes and grab my phone and keys, then I’m out the door.

It only takes me eight minutes to get to Matt’s house, so when I arrive, I’m eagerly making my way inside. We’ve been friends for eons, hence why I have my own key. Upon walking in, I instantly make my way upstairs and head back to his room. As soon as I open his door, his attention is on me.

“You’re late.” He states, his voice stern.

“Only by four minutes.” I shrug, joining him on his bed.

“Four minutes is still late.” He points out, raising an eyebrow at me.

“Won’t happen again, I promise.” I grin, tossing my hands up in defense.

He doesn’t say anything, only smirks as he grabs my hands to observe the nails he paid for. He plays with my fingers, looking at each individual nail, as if inspecting to see if there were any flaws. They were perfect.

“I love them, they look good.” He tells me, his voice now husky.

I look from my hands to his face, his eyes already being on me. His hands never leave my own, his warm fingers brushing back and forth over mine. The intensity of his stare has me clenching my thighs together in need. I don’t knew where this is coming from, but I want him bad.

“They’d look even better wrapped around my cock.” He whispers, his voice deep and raspy, placing one of my hands on his lap.

Only then, did I notice the growing bulge beneath his pants. His cargos now restricting his hard on, keeping it caged in below the fabric. I could feel him pulsating through the clothing, his erection rock solid. My mouth opened and close, suddenly unable to find words to speak.

“Don’t you want to show me how grateful you are?” He taunts, his gaze unwavering.

“Did you have a favor in mind?” I ask, licking my lips as I attempt to swallow in hopes of lubricating my now dry throat.

“Mhm.” He hums, standing up from the bed. He stands directly in front of me, his hands slowly working his belt off. “I want your pretty little mouth around my cock.”

I could feel my underwear becoming more and more soaked, my arousal seeping out of my pussy, completely and utterly turned on. His hand reaches my chin, gripping my jaw as he pulls me up from the bed, before dropping me to my knees. His thumb rubs against my lips before forcing itself in my mouth. I suck on it, my mouth immediately salivating from this situation I find myself in. He removes his thumb, dragging it down my bottom lip, letting it bounce back up as he moves to remove his shirt. I watch in awe, his lean torso flexing with every movement. Next, he unbuttons his pants. Once he pulls them and his boxers down, his dick slaps up, bouncing off of his lower abdomen. I’ve never been this intimate with Matt, meaning I’ve never seen his dick before, and boy was it something.

“Like what you see, pretty girl?” He teases, his hand engulfing his shaft and jerking it a couple of times. “Get over here and make me feel good until I say you can stop.”

I can’t help but frantically nod, instinctively scooting closer to him, eager to take his member into my mouth. One of his hands goes around my head, entangling in my hair, while the other one takes his dick and slaps it onto my lips, leaving drops of his precum behind. My tongue immediately flicks over my lips, taking the traces of him into my mouth, leaving him to toss his head back as a groan leaves his throat.

“Open.” He states, his hand pulling my jaw down.

As soon as my lips are parted wide enough, he’s shoving his entire length down my throat, pulling a gag from me. From his rough thrusts, my mouth is producing enough saliva to coat his dick, strings of spit connecting him to me once he pulls out. He then sets his tip on my lips, nodding at me to get to work, so I do.

My tongue swirls around his head, licking over his slit, causing him to tighten his grip in my hair and involuntarily buck his hips, his dick prodding at my mouth from the movement. I wrap my lips around him once more, my tongue continuously twirling around him, before taking as much as I could of him into my mouth, using my hands on the rest of him that wouldn’t fit. Peering up at him through my eyelashes, I see his brows furrowed in pleasure, his bottom lip held between his teeth.

“Fuck. You’re so pretty, doll.” He moans, running a hand across my cheek. “Sucking me so good, baby.”

I hum around his length, accepting his praise. Throaty moans continue to escape his mouth, encouraging me more as the desire in me burns hotter. I pull away from him completely, then take all of him in my mouth, deep throating him as much as I can without dying. His free hand wraps around my throat, making the feeling of his dick going down my throat all the more noticeable. He starts thrusting, matching my speed, his hips now sputtering as more lewd sounds come from his mouth.

He quickly pulls away, tugging me back by his grip on my hair. “Strip.”

I eagerly obliged, nerves building in my stomach, anticipating what’s to come. It didn’t take long for me to remove my outer clothing, leaving me in my bra and panties as his hungry eyes bore into me.

“Strip.” He repeats, his tone more demanding.

Without breaking eye contact, I reach back and unclasp my bra, letting it fall down my arms before falling to the floor with other clothes. The cool air hit my nipples, the buds hardening in response. I watch as Matt’s eyes follow my every move, soaking in every gesture. My fingers slip in the waistband of my panties, slowly tugging them downwards as I continue shimmying out of them, kicking them off my feet. Matt’s hand is now around his cock, stroking it as he watches me, intently.

“My turn.” He whispers, pulling me against him, skin to skin.

His mouth meets mine in a hot kiss, excitement bubbling between us. He walks me a few steps backwards, pushing me back on his bed and climbing on top of me. Our lips lap one another’s, before he’s shoving his tongue in my mouth, exploring behind my lips. We move together in such a hot and steamy way, his hands touching every part of me as my hands lace through his hair. His mouth then moves down my jaw, dragging open mouth kisses across my skin, leaving a trail saliva in his wake. My breathing was heavy, small whimpers coming through as he sucks and nibbles my sweet spot.

His hands then intertwine with mine, bringing my fingertips to his lips, pressing soft kisses against them. “I can’t wait to see the damage you do with these.”

He starts kissing down my chest, keeping his hands interlocked with mine. His mouth nips and bites at my skin, goosebumps spreading over me. He takes my nipple into his mouth, twirling his tongue around it, his teeth grazing over it, causing a sharp gasp like moan to come from my mouth. He moves on to the next one, repeating the same action. My legs squeeze shut, attempting to relieve the tension that keeps building and building with every little thing.

“Matt, please.” I whisper, attempting to grind against him for friction, to which he only presses his hands onto my hips to hold me in place.

“Shh, baby.” He mutters against my skin, lowering himself to my navel, his tongue leaving a stripe of spit.

His mouth meets my thighs, going back and forth between the two, peppering wet kisses all over them. His half lidded eyes meet mine, a smirk making its way to his face as he blew air onto my center, causing me to thrash beneath him. Instantly, his tongue is between my folds, pulling a loud moan from me as my hands return to his hair, tugging ever so slightly. He licks up and down my core, sucking all of my juices along the way. His tongue prods at my entrance, poking in and out, before he goes back up and wraps his lips around my clit.

“F-fuck, feels so good, Matty.” I whimper, thrusting my hips up for more.

His hands press down on my hips again, his grip now tight, holding me in place. His mouth continues lapping me, his tongue flicking every which way, bringing me closer to the edge. One of his hands leave my waist, his fingers meeting my heat. He slides them up and down, lubricating them before pressing two of them into my entrance. A loud moan falls from my mouth, my body jerking as he begins fucking me with his fingers. His mouth focuses on my clit, sucking with his warm tongue continuously flicking over it. His fingers pumping in and out of me, my arousal evident from the sounds emitting from my core and my mouth.

“I’m so close.” I moan out, pushing down into him.

Unfortunately, he pulls away, completely removing himself from me, a whine of desperation coming from my lips. He hovers back over me, his mouth pressing onto mine, my juices traveling from his mouth to mine as he kisses me hard.

“We’re gonna cum together, princess.” He says, one of his hands holding himself up as his other one rubs his dick up and down my folds.

I can’t help the gentle shaking of my thighs, my hole clenching around nothing as my eyes beg him to fuck me. Without words, he grants my wishes, slowly sinking his cock into me. Low moans escape both of our mouths as he bottoms out, my eyes closing in pleasure as he tosses his head back one again. My arms wrap around him, pulling him closer to me.

“I just knew you’d feel so good, baby.” He groans, his thrusts slow, yet hard. “So wet and warm, and tight around my cock.”

His thrusts remain slow, but not too slow, as he continues digging into me, hitting exactly where I need him.

“Oh, Matt.” I moan out, my face contorting in pure bliss as I drag my hands down his back.

He lets out more groans, enjoying everything about this moment. Instantly, I could feel the knot forming in the pit of my stomach, close to snapping from the building pressure. He picks up his pace, increasing the strength of his thrusts. His hand meets my center once again, rubbing tight circles onto my clit, ripping another moan from me.

“You look like a dream.” He moans out, his eyes never leaving mine. “I can see your close, baby.”

Words stuck in my throat, I’m left nodding my head, nothing but incoherent sounds coming from my mouth as I dig my nails into his back. His lips slam onto mine, bringing me into a passionate kiss, swallowing every noise that emits from me. His tongue roams my mouth again, quickly and eagerly, as if he can’t get enough. As he pulls away, he drags my bottom lip out in between his teeth.

“Cum with me, doll.” He groans, his finger on my clit applying more pressure.

And just like that, the knot snapped, unraveling, and I was letting go all over him, eliciting pornographic moans from my mouth. He followed seconds after, his dick twitching inside of me as his load spurts out. He continues pumping, fucking both of us through our orgasms, pushing our cum deeper into me with every thrust. Stilling for just a moment, he then slowly pulls out and lies beside me, both of our breaths erratic from the exertion.

“If this is what I get as a thank you, I’ll gladly pay for your nails every single time.” He chuckles, grinning over at me.

I laugh, rolling my eyes at him, pushing him away. He smirks, before starting to put his clothes back on, so that he could start us a shower. As soon as I catch glimpse of his back, a gasp leaves my mouth, causing him to turn around with raised eyebrows.

“What?” He asks, expectantly.

“Your back is fucked.” I laugh, covering my mouth, grabbing his phone from the nightstand.

I motion for him to turn around so that I can take a picture. Once I do, he grabs his phone from me and smirks at the picture, pleased with the aftermath of our moment together. He does some typing on his phone before tossing it back down and leaving the room. I pick his phone back up and see that he made a new post on snapchat.

After clicking on it, my mouth dropped, “Matt!”

—

a/n : here ya go! sorry for the delay, i’ve been lacking inspiration and motivation. i hope you enjoy it, and apologies if this isn’t what you had in mind. send in more reqs pls, love you 🫶🏼

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

Text

Partners in Crime 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Lee Bodecker

Summary: you're left reeling after your divorce but the chaos has only begun. (short!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You hate the mall. Too bright. Too loud. Too fast.

That day isn’t so bad. Tuesday, mid-morning. Most people are at work. Not you. Your part-time gig barely pays the bills, let alone keeps you busy. With that in mind, you shouldn’t be there to spend what little you have.

It’s for a good cause. It’s your grandmother’s birthday next week and you owe her. After all she’s done, you owe much more than just a measly mall-bough gift but it’s all you can manage right now. One day it will be better. One day you will be able to pay her back. At least you keep telling yourself that.

She paid for it all. Your way out, your lawyer, your apartment even. You can’t live in the senior’s community with her, that’s against the rules, but she parsed out some of her nest egg for the flat in the old brick building. For you. She’s the only one who ever did so much for you but what did you ever do for her?

It’s not for lack of trying, only your own poor decisions.

You enter the sparkling Swarovski store and keep your arms tight to your body, paranoid of breaking any of the numerous crystal pieces. You don’t know what she would like. It isn’t because you don’t know her well, you just don’t think she has much use for any of it. She’s always been painfully practical. That’s why you never wanted to ask her for help.

An associate startles you as she appears beside you in her sleek black pantsuit. She offers help but you get the sense she’s checking in, making sure your hands aren’t sneaking into your pockets. You make sure to keep them visible and move your satchel across your back. You tell her you’re just looking and blow out between your dry lips. Maybe a hoodie wasn’t the best choice.

It was meant to be a solution. You wanted to get out of your grandmother’s hair. How long had you been living with her? He was the answer to that. You thought so. You wanted to believe it. For ten years, you tried. He always spoiled it.

Then she had to bail you out anyway.

As you come to the sharp corner of a shelf, you’re startled by another customer. You hadn’t seen them when you came in or heard them. You glance at them fleetingly and turn your attention to the shelf of Mickey Mouse decorations. Definitely not those.

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” the man frightens you again as he nears and presses his hand to your back. He sidles by, and you dodge away from him, coming dangerously close to colliding with the display of birthstone necklaces.

You shake off the close brush and blink at the glass. You peek over at the man as he seems overly interested in a paper weight shaped like a dove. His mustache and sleek haircut make him look like he’s been plucked out of some gangster period piece.

The associate shifts from one side of the counter to the other. She’s watching you. You sigh. She still thinks you’re a thief. You shake your head and leave.

It’s not worth the trouble or the money. You can find something better. You know you could get your grandma a box of chocolates and a card and she’d say she’s happy. You don’t want to get her what works; you want to do something for someone. Something more than just be there.

You go down to Hallmark. It’s a similar atmosphere with a hint of warmness and more range in price. Still too much Disney and not enough variety. Your grandmother doesn’t need a rustic crate or a door sign with some snarky saying about wine.

You stop to look at cards. You can at least grab one of those. As you reach for one along the top row, another hand swipes it from your grasp. You back up and look at the culprit. It’s the same man as the Swarovski shop. Strange.

You recoil and scurry down the aisle towards the door. Is he following you? It could be a coincidence. Two stores. If he’s looking for a gift too, it makes sense.

You cross your arms and march quickly through the bright mall, the skylight glaring down at you. You walk in and out of a clothes shop. You don’t know where you’re going now. You’re frazzled.

You find your way to the As Seen on TV shop and meander around without intent. You’re at a loss. You’ll just end up at the bookstore like always. Another book for her birthday. Wowee.

She might like the salt rock light. You don’t know. Ugh.

It isn’t the gift. It isn’t her. It’s you. You’re indecisive. You're lost. Even if it was misery, you miss having someone to tell you what to do. Now you have to think and you do too much of that.

“Those are pretty cool,” a voice slices through your self-pity.

It’s the same man. Your eyes meet as you look up to see him. You blanch and open and close your mouth. The shop is so small, how hadn’t you heard him?

You retreat without a word. He must be following you. There’s no other explanation. What do you do? You can’t just lead him out of the mall, back to your building, but how can you divert him?

You find a bench down the next aisle of the mall, somewhere the associates in the vitamin store can see you. You’re safe there with people around. You look up and down, searching for the man and his mustache. Just a mother with her stroller.

You’re paranoid. Stupid, just like he said. It’s all in your head. You’re just fucked up. You don’t know how to live in this world. Not alone.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” the timbre tickles up the back of your spine and you twist to see the figure behind you. It’s an officer in uniform. “Mind if I ask ya something?”

You nod and blink. You don’t like the cops. You haven’t spoken to them since the night it all came crashing down. The flashing lights, the sirens, the questions. It’s all a haze yet it’s stamped into your psyche.

“Yes, sir,” you stand.

He’s got dark brown hair and bright blue eyes. His shoulders bear a slant of authority as he has his hands on his hips. He’s taller than you, but so is everyone. You look across the bench at him as his white shirt pokes out from under his leather jacket, his belly straining the fabric.

“You don’t gotta trouble yerself,” he shows his palm and reaches with his other hand to his belt, “I’m lookin’ for someone and was wonderin’ if maybe ya saw him.”

“Oh?” You crinkle your forehead.

“Got a pic somewhere,” he frees his phone from the clip on his belt and flicks his thumb over the screen, “here we are.”

He turns the cell toward you and you can’t help but make a face. The image is blurry but it’s definitely that same man. You look back the way you came and gulp.

“Reckon by that, you’ve seen him,” the officer says. “Sheriff Bodecker,” he introduces as he retracts his hand, “I’m doing an investigation. Mind if I ask some more questions?"

“Well, I... didn’t talk to him.”

“That’s fine,” he peers down in the same direction you did. The infant in its stroller begins to yawl and his cheek ticks, “how about you come out to my cruiser and we’ll do it there? Less ruckus?”

You purse your lips. You can’t really say no, he might think you know that guy, whoever he is, whatever he’s done. You shrug. You don’t have much to say. You’re sure it won’t be much of an interview.

“Okay,” you agree.”

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lee bodecker #dark lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #series #drabble #the devil all the time #the gray man #partners in crime

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dovabunny · 2 years ago

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GhostSoap AU - Replaced

Cw: angst

They'd been a (secret) thing for almost a year now. Soap was smitten, but respected Ghost's boundaries to keep it private.

But over all these months, Ghost never said he loved him too. He never makes future plans with Soap either.

He keeps turning down invites to go on leave together or meet his family,l. When they're out on missions will always elect share a room with Price over him.

Soap starts to feel like less of a secret lover and more like... Ghost's dirty little secret.

Like he's just being used.

(Read rest below)

It all blows up one night.

The gang had been at a local bar. Some flooze had apparently been making eyes at Ghost and Gaz noticed. Thinking he's being a good friend and wingman, he introduced the two.

Soap had to sit and watch Ghost talk to her at the bar for 20minutes.

Everytime she touched his arm or bought him a drink he wanted to rip her off him.

But what hurt more was that Ghost didn't immediately turn her down, instead entertaining her attention for a drink or two. He didn't tell Gaz he wasn't interested.

Soap was just a spectator.

"So? Get her number?" Gaz eagerly asked when Ghost returned.

"Nah. Not my type. Too chatty."

Gaz rolled his eyes. "Picky bitch. She was pretty. And if you're not into chatty why do you keep him around?" He playfully winked at Soap.

It was a joke. Didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Not when Ghost didn't even reply.

Soap announced he's leaving early. Ghost followed and caught up to him. The cold air did nothing to ease the burning hurt.

"You coming over to mine tonight, Johnny? I doubt they'll be back till after midnight."

Soap grit his teeth and kept walking. "Dunno. Maybe you should go ask your redhead slag."

Ghost glared, voice cold. "That's uncalled for, Johnny. She was just being friendly."

"Friendly, huh? Too bad she's chatty. Apparently that's huge turn off for you."

Ghost grabbed his arm and stopped him. His eyes and tone incredulous. "That's what this hissy fit is about? You're jealous and touchy over that comment? I thought you'd be happy I didn't take her number."

"I would've been happy if you didn't entertain her flirting at all!"

Ghost's eyes turned hard. "And what gives you the right to dictate who I talk to?"

Soap stared for a moment. It hurt. It fucking hurts but he needed to know.

"What am I to you, Simon?"

Ghost was quiet.

"A fling? A partner? A lover? A fucking sex toy? What am I to you!?"

Months of insecurities were bubbling up. The alcohol that loosened his tongue didn't help either as he yelled.

"Don't raise your voice to me, Sargent. I'm still your commanding officer." Ghost said in a tone reserved for intimidating interrogations and reckless recruits.

"...that's it? You're my CO and I'm your Sargent? That's- that's all it is for you?" Soap hated how his voice trembled.

"I didn't make any promises, Soap." (Soap. Not Johnny.) "You have no right to make demands of what I may and may not do, and I won't be chained down!"

"I don't want to chain you down! I just wa-"

"Sounds like you do. Bloody hell, if you didn't want to fuck anymore - fine. There's no need for the tears and the drama, Sargent."

It was only then that Soap realized he was crying.

Ghost cursed and kept walking without him.

Soap feels like he's been punched in the chest, a gaping void left where his heart and lungs should be.

Apparently all the secret kisses Ghost stole, how he held his hand when no one was looking, the way he held him when they were alone were all just what? Drama? In his head?

Soap spends the night sobbing his heart out off base in an empty parking lot with a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

By morning he told himself there's no use crying over spilled milk.

But it wasn't that simple. For either of them. It was the start of the end.

#soapghost #ghostsoap #cod mwii #cod mw2 #johnny soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #my writing #replaced au #call of duty #fanfiction

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strawbeerossi · 2 years ago

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Anger Management

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: You and Spencer broke up months ago over him talking to someone else. Whenever she dies and he’s left to grieve, he likes to take his anger out on you until one day you have enough.

Content/Warnings: Non descriptive break up, mentions of Maeve (I’m a Maeve hater), Spencer is an asshole, Dom!Spencer, office sex, unprotected sex.

Word Count: 1.5K

Kinktober Day Nine: Hate Sex

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

Spencer had always known that he was a creature of habit after learning the things he liked and disliked. He strayed from trying most new things, nor did he ever spend his time going out of his way to communicate with new people. He enjoyed his simple yet equally complicated existence.

He had a stable job, he had a home, plus he had a huge combined family with his work colleagues. Besides you.

Once upon a time, he loved you. The both of you spent every waking moment together at home and at work, enjoying one another’s presence and taking care of one another. Once he met Maeve, that changed though. He’d began to spend his time talking to the woman who he swore up and down was just his doctor who was helping him with his headache problems.

The more they talked, the more you realized that had to be a bullshit lie. What kind of doctor makes her patients go to a payphone just to have a consultation or to discuss your issues? She felt like it was suspicious. They had secret conversations, things Spencer wouldn’t dare discuss after the fact. If you were honest, it pissed you off.

That was why there was an explosive fight, one where you were deciding on packing up all your shit in the apartment and you were leaving. You didn’t have to sit around and take it so you weren’t going to.

You’d transferred departments for a while after that, knowing the BAU couldn’t be home with your ex boyfriend still there. You’d moved on to Counterterrorism, which was an alright job. Paid the bills, you just preferred where you knew that you belonged.

Going for months without talking to Spencer and having no interest to, you thought you were recovering pretty well.

Until you got a call from Aaron Hotchner. Spencer was on bereavement leave and they were down an agent, which you’d briefly heard the long story of Maeve being stalked and ultimately shot in front of Spencer. He was practically begging you on the phone to come back, long enough for them to be fully staffed so cases could be solved timely and efficiently.

Which you did. It ended up with you putting in a transfer to come back to the BAU. Things went downhill after that though. Spencer was still going through the stages of grief and most of the issues and hard feelings he felt were taken out on you. He’d make sly and shitty comments regularly, things you did your best to ignore. He was grieving, it didn’t make it okay but you really did try to cut him some slack. The things he said were deep cuts, insulting your intelligence at times just to see if he could elicit a reaction.

That wasn’t the Spencer you knew, the Spencer that you loved. You just assumed that version of him was dead and buried along with Maeve.

Today wasn’t a day to bother you though. After weeks of suffering from verbal abuse, you were tired of it. You’d woken up in a bad mood as is that morning, dreading what was to come the minute that you walked into the bullpen. A mood that Derek would jokingly say was because you just woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

With the desk setups, it was no surprise your desk was across from Spencer’s, how lucky could you possibly be? You were looking through the stack of files you desperately needed to sort through when Spencer came in. Joy.

“You know, if you actually made forth an effort to do your job when it needs to be done, you wouldn’t have the pile of work you need to blow through.” He was getting started early, placing his satchel on the underside of his desk while retrieving a book.

Without missing a beat, you picked up at least four of the files and tossed them carelessly onto his desk. “Then fucking help lighten the load since you are so concerned about it.” You snapped, which caught Spencer by surprise. You’ve been a quiet punching bag since he got back but here you were, snapping at him. That only fueled his fire.

“I’m not concerned about it, I’m giving you advice.” He had his own attitude while picking up the files before throwing them back to your desk. “I think you need to stop being so sensitive. It’s not a good look for you. I’m offering you advice.”

“No. You’re being an asshole and I’m getting tired of you taking every ounce of anger out on me! Who the fuck do you think you are?” You asked, hands slamming on your desk while you were pushing yourself to stand. The commotion had garnered the attention of every other agent in the bullpen, even Aaron and Dave watching from the windows of their office. You knew you’d be embarrassed later but you felt so good right now for standing up for yourself. As you stormed out of the heavy glass doors, everyone turned their attention to Spencer, who was in a stunned silence. “I’ll go talk to her.” He cleared his throat. He felt rage festering inside of him after that little display, however he kept himself grounded as he was heading out of the bullpen in search of you.

He eventually found you in one of the vacant offices, a frown on his face as he was quickly stepping inside and closing the door. “That was ridiculous.” He wasn’t here to apologize, only here to argue even more. “No, it wasn’t. I hope that I humiliated you infront of every agent in that room.” Venom dripped from your tone as you turned to face him, face red from anger. “I’m so sick of your bullshit. You think just because you lost someone that you have a right to make my life a living hell?” You asked, stepping closer to jab your finger into his chest. “Because you don’t. I’m sorry that whatever her name is died, I truly am. I’m tired of giving you a pass because I feel bad for you!” You spat.

That was the final straw for Spencer as he backed you up against the nearest wall of the office. “I knew you would try and bring her up into this!” He scoffed, both of you staring at each other in a tense silence. Within a flash, your hands were tangled in Spencer's hair while he was slamming his mouth into yours, the frustration and anger all melting into the kiss as he had you pinned to the wall behind you. “I’m so fucking sick of your mouth.” You murmured against his lips and made Spencer grunt. “Like I’m not tired of your bullshit.” He murmured, his hands quickly working on the buttons of your pants while working on tugging them down.

The haste was returned as you were working on his belt before tossing it somewhere in the room while tugging down the pants hugging his waist. The kiss was abruptly cut off as he was flipping you around, your body now facing the wall. It was for the best that you didn’t look at him, moreso because he’d pissed you off so much that you just wanted to use him for your own relief. You deserved this, even if he didn’t. He had a similar sentiment, your panties being pulled to your mid thighs.

The thick tip of his cock was breaching your sex without warning, mouth falling open while you were letting your forehead rest against the wall, mouth agape as his thick cock was bottoming out. “Oh, my fucking god.”

There was no time to waste, the large hands resting against your waist while his thick cock was pistoning inside of your tight cunt, a bruising grip keeping you in place. “Fuck. How does it feel to be a useless hole? Lord knows that nobody ever wants your fucking input or opinions.” His words were low, hips roughly snapping into yours as the echo of your skin smacking together filled the empty office.

“Spencer-” You began before one of his hands was over your mouth, muffling any attempt for you to speak. “Shut up.” He growled. You both had issues together but this encounter really symbolized that. Spencer used to be slow and sweet, hardly ever cursing or telling you some of the filthy things that had been falling from his lips. A moan was muffled against his hand while his eyes fluttered shut.

“Gonna cum. You’re gonna take everything that I give you.” His lips were against the shell of your ear, the words making your mouth fall open. With a few more thrusts, it wasn’t long until his spent was gushing deep inside of you, the feeling causing you to hit your own release shortly after.

Instead of getting the treatment that you were used to, he was pulling out of you and pulling up his boxers and pants. “Might wanna clean yourself up.” He commented, fluffing out his hair while walking to the closed office door.

The last thing you heard was the door open and the footsteps out of the room followed by a slam of the door.

That was one way to get over an argument.

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cheeeeseburger · 10 months ago

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Dream girl part 9

Sidney Crosby x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: This is it guys, the final part! Thank you so much for all your support. I had no intentions of ever turning the daydreams I had of Sidney Crosby into actual words, let alone a serie, but this is all thanks to you. I hope you enjoy the last part as much as I did while writing it!

Sidney was on fucking fire. This goal was his third point of the night, and this was an important game. The Penguins’ spot in the playoffs was now secured. The crowd in Pittsburgh was roaring and jumping out off the seats and the second period wasn’t even over yet. It just felt fucking good to be alive. The goal was nice, but it wasn’t the only reason Sid was celebrating.

No, there was someone special in the crowd chanting out his name, and that changed everything. Of course, it was you. Not only were you screaming out his name just like you would again later tonight in his bed, but you were wearing his last name on your back. That, ladies and gents, was a damn good motivator for him.

As soon as he spotted you in the crowds during warmups, he knew that he would get first star of the game. You played the part of the WAG so well, blowing him kisses every time he was near and cheering him on. He nearly tripped because you smiled at him. It was like being back in high school, knowing his crush was there. He had to impress her, so she’d go to the prom with him. Sidney didn’t want to ask you to be his date, though. He wanted to ask you to spend the rest of your live with him.

You and him were at a weird stage that you hadn’t put a name on yet. It was practically a relationship, with him fucking you multiple times a day and it being clear that you both had feelings for the other. The fact that you lived with him also didn’t help with the confusion. Neither of you approched the subject, so it stayed that way. Still, you two shared a good thing and Sidney was okay with it. For now.

After scoring his goal, Sidney pointed to you in the crowds. The camera captured the hearts in your eyes and the entire arena got to see it. There was a wave of “ohhhs” and “awws” as he winked and you blushed, but also the sound of someone cursing out your name. It must have been your ex. Screw him. Honestly, Sid had never felt as good as he felt tonight. The girl of his dreams was wearing his jersey, and he was so fucking proud. The fact that your ex would see it during the entire game? Yeah, that was not mature, but he had to admit it added to the thrill.

“Hey, Crosby, heard you couldn’t get a girl so you had to steal your teammate’s. That’s what captains are for, right?”

Sidney whipped his head to see who had made that comment. It was some wannabe big shot from the opposite team. Asshole. Sidney didn’t bother with a reply.

Yeah, he knew he was the talk of the town, or rather the hockey community. The news that Sidney Crosby was dating someone nearly half his age that had just recently broken up with a defenseman on the Penguins spread like wildfire. Admittedly, it was pretty scandalous, and way out of character for Crosby. The meeting he had with the organization was pretty awkward, though. He confessed that he fallen in love with you after meeting you through the rookie, but he also made sure that everyone knew you had never cheated on your boyfriend, and that you left him because he was cheating. Everyone had seen the young defenseman with multiple girls on multiple occasions and Sid’s love seemed so sincere that they believed him. How could they not, when he talked about you with such admiration, like he was blessed to have you in his life?

The first week in the locker room was tense, but it went mostly well after that. (Except maybe that time when he took off his shirt and he didn’t understand why the rookie yelled “fucking hell” and the room got quiet until he noticed there were scratches all over his back and a nice little hickey on his chest. Sid was juts glad they hadn’t seen the love marks on you.)

“She’s real pretty, I’ll give you that. And so young. Can you keep her satisfied? I know that it doesn’t get easier with age, does it?” This dude was not giving up. Sidney had been in the league for many years. Could he not come up with something better than that?

“Shut the hell up, asshole. She has no complaints. Ask your wife, she’ll give you the same answer.” A few players close by chuckled. The ref blew his whistle and 87 took control of the puck.

Sidney had to admit that this last comment stung a little, even though he knew for a fact that you were more than satisfied. He had changed his pregame routine just to make sure to dedicate an hour or two for your needs. Twice that morning he fucked you senseless, so he had not lost all his skills just yet.

He was older by many, many years, but that was not an issue. Quite the opposite, actually. After being with incompetent and immature boys, a real man to reign you in was all you needed. Sidney wasn’t lying when he said he could be a daddy. It felt good to walk around with a pretty girl like you, to show you off as his. You liked showing him off too, so that was a win-win. Still, there wasn’t a title to your relationship yet and it was starting to bug him. Had you changed your mind? Did you not want him anymore? Sidney chased the thought away for now.

The second period finished with the Penguins still in the lead. Sidney looked at you and smiled when he saw you wave before heading in the locker room.

Things felt surreal. How lucky was he? A few months ago, he longed for more and was tired of never being accompanied to team events. Then, at one of those team events, he met you and immediately knew you were the one for him. His purpose on Earth was to find you, his other half. But you did not belong to him. He had to suffer through months of seeing his dream girl with another man, being the perfect girlfriend for him while he sat there in the shadows, heart heavy with misery and envy. Somehow, his prayers got answered and you realized that he was your dream man, that no one would ever love you like he loved you. Sidney would forever be grateful that he would never have to go the Penguins’ charity alone ever again. His love would always be by his side.

But his love was not his girlfriend yet.

Soon enough, the last period started. It was always fun to be nearing the end of a game with a comfortable lead. But being the star player that he was, Sidney was not done giving out his 100 percents. And that included fighting.

The asshole from the other team made his way over and Sid mentally rolled his eyes at the poor attempt at chirping that would soon come his way.

“Have you considered that she left the other dude because his entry level contract was not high enough, so she moved on to your 8.7? Tell her to not settle though, I make way more. Give her my number, will you?” He looked too smug saying it. By the way he was playing this season, he would not be getting an extension next year anyway. That boy needed to be humbled.

“Hey, just a thought. Maybe you should focus on the game instead of my girlfriend. You’re still losing by two goals.” Oh, how he liked calling you his girlfriend. It had a nice ring to it. Fiancée or wife would sound even better. Sidney focused on the game, but the other guy was not done.

“I bet if I went over and asked her to suck my dick, she’d do it. I know she’s into hockey players, and I heard she’s a gold digger and a whore.” Immediately, Sid’s gloves were off. His opponent didn’t have time to regret his comment before Sidney was on him.

He threw a first punch then grabbed him by the jersey. The other guy tried landing a few punches, but Sid’s fury was lethal. No one insults his girl like that, especially with disgusting lies. He knew that somewhere in the crowd, you were up on your feet, not having a clue that he was fighting for your honour. Sid’s rage was only amplified after that thought. A few well-placed punches later and the guy was laying on the ice, with Sidney standing on business and on him.

“Don’t ever mention her again if you can’t back your claims. You’re a fucking joke.” He added another punch for good measure. His opponent had to be escorted to the locker room. A fucking joke indeed.

Sid did get five minutes for that. He was lucky he didn’t get expelled. At least, he could now proudly add a Gordie Howe hat trick to his list of achievements. Anyway, it was worth it. When he made his way to the penalty box, he made sure to look at you, just to warn off the other players, should they get the urge to tarnish his dream girl’s reputation. Sidney was too far to see you, but he knew you were probably squirming in your seat, smiling and being so damn proud of him. He hoped you would never find out why he was fighting.

The Penguins won, and the entire arena erupted in cheers, but Sidney was only focused on you. You were jumping out of your seats, celebrating with perfect strangers, pointing to the last name on your jersey. Sidney’s legs felt weak all of the sudden. He had everything he wanted and more.

Nearly everything. Except a title.

“Hi, Sidney. You played really well today. Congrats on the win.” You were waiting for him outside of the locker room area, resting on a wall. Sid found it adorable that you were avoiding his gaze, all shy and blushing. Clearly, his little fight did wonders for you.

“Hey, my love. I’m glad you enjoyed the game.” He smiled warmly at you.

“Of course. I still feel the adrenaline, and I wasn’t even the one playing!” You were twirling your hair, a soft glow on your face. This looked like a scene straight out of a romcom. Sidney couldn’t help himself; he gave you a chaste kiss.

“Yeah? Want to burn it off at home?” He was waiting for you answer, but you were busy staring at something behind his shoulder. Sid turned and saw that your ex was sending him a death glare.

“Actually, Sid, I think I’m going to meet you there.” Your words cut the tension in half. It was like he took a cold shower. Trying to keep his cool, he took a deep breath before speaking again. “How will you get home?”

“I can give her a ride.” Fuck no. He didn’t want you to be driven home by your ex but was afraid it would come out as too possessive if he protested. “Alright, then. I’ll see you later.” Sidney swallowed his pride and walked away before you could see the hurt in his face. He thought he heard you call his name, but he didn't want to risk turning around and seeing you not looking at him.

The drive home felt like hell. He thought he had you, but here you were, slipping away again. Sidney tried sitting down but he felt restless, so he worked out, but that was no good either. In his head, a thousand scenarios were playing. What if you were to go back with him? He didn’t think he’d be able to take it.

It was now way past his bedtime, but he couldn’t sleep. You had woken up in his arms this morning in this very same bed, yet here he was, alone. The ceiling fan buzzed lightly in the background, drowning the sound of his heart shattering to pieces. He wanted to have hope, he really did, but as the minutes went by and still you were not home, Sidney kept losing it. Eventually, he fell asleep.

“Sidney? Sidney?” An angel was whispering his name and stroking his hair.

“What? What’s going on?” He tried sitting up but you caressed his cheek softly.

“Shhhhh, it’s just me.” It felt surreal to see you.

“It’s you, it’s really you. You came back.” Your eyes softened. He took a strand of your hair between two fingers, just to make sure you were really there.

“Of course I came back. Go back to sleep now, okay? I’m sorry for waking you up. I just wanted to let you know I’m back.” You kissed his forehead.

“I don’t want to sleep. I want to talk to you. I thought you would stay with him.” He finally sat up for good and you sat next to him, on the bed.

“Gosh, no, Sidney. Not anymore. He just dropped me off.”

“What, you were with him that whole time?” Now he was fully awake.

“Yes. I packed all of my remaining stuff from the condo.”

“And that’s all you did?” He tried to keep his tone neutral but obviously, his question was filled with innuendo. Although it hurt, his insecurity was valid. You did your best to reassure him.

“I promise you, Sid. We packed my stuff and we talked, that’s it. He apologized to me again and said he regretted everything that went down. I could tell he was being sincere.”

“I sure hope so, but that’s a little too late for that now. He should have been honest from the beginning.” The words were bitter.

“I know, Sidney. He also told me about the reason behind your fight.” That picked his curiosity.

“What about it?” You took both of his hands in yours and rubbed circles on them with your thumbs. At that moment, you could have gotten lost in his soft brown eyes, but you had to say those next words: “He told me what the fight was about, how you defended my honour and my reputation. He said he had never seen anyone look so furious before. He said that’s when he realized that you really love me, and that I deserve to be with someone who loves me that much.”

Sidney felt like you had finally gotten on the same rollercoaster that he was on, the same wavelenght. It was his chance to prove to you that he was your dream man.

“Of course I love you. I had never told you before because I didn’t want to scare you, but I have loved you since I first looked at you at that party, months ago. I hoped you could tell by my gestures because I couldn’t tell you, since you were with him. I have been lost ever since, and the words have nearly spilled out a thousand times. Everyday I wake up and I love you a little bit more than the day before but a little less than the next day. I’m glad he saw it, because I can’t hold it anymore. I have to say it outloud, and I want to repeat it everyday. I love you to death and more.” Sidney had never been so vulnerable before. He hoped his words were enough to make you understand the depths he would go for you. Your eyes filled with tears at his confession.

“That’s the thing, Sidney Crosby. I have realized that I love you, too. I don’t know why I was so blind before. No one makes me as happy as you. There is no one else I want to spend my days with. You are the light of my life. I will always look for you in a crowd, I will always cheer for you, and for every remaining day of my life, I will always, always, always love you.”

Sidney pulled you in for the tightest hug of your life. It felt like coming home. His arms were the safest place you could ever imagine, the most comfortable too. He was too stunned to speak. His prayers had finally been answered. Sidney loved you, and you loved him.

His dream girl was finally all his.

#sidney crosby x reader #sidney crosby imagine #sidney crosby fanfiction #sidney crosby fic #sidney crosby #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl

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starmocha · 5 months ago

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i was listening to some secret times and it got me thinking about this:

we know the boys admire and respect mc as a hunter, they know she's capable and strong. and they also respect ger as their girlfriend and her happiness and freedom are very important to them.

however, jealousy exists even in the healthiest relationships and you know, it's normal and it's something that can be fixed via communication

but I was thinking what do you think the boys' reactions would be if mc went down on them with some new skills that render them insane and once it's over they actually need a moment to wind down? like it's the best head that they ever had and it left them panting and sensitive to the point of whimpering if she decided to tease them a little bit more, give them one last stroke.

I think the "where did she learn to do that" would ring in their minds but who would say it? i'm especially curious about what you think of zayne in this situation. if you do decide to answer this silly ask, of course. it's 3am here and these are the thoughts that plague me 🫠

(and btw, mc learned her new tricks when she spent an entire day watching some good ol porn. she just really wanted to literally blow her men's minds, you know?)

lmaooo I feel like MC would also get this sudden...inspiration after meeting up with some girlfriends and they go to talking about what they do to please their men and so on and so forth 🙂‍↕️ So I feel she's taking some advices from her girlfriends + doing her own research (watching porn) and just decided to one day test them out.

At first the guys would be startled, because...that was different. She would probably pause, thinking she did something wrong, but before she gets cold feet, suddenly she hears them breathing a little heavier, panting and even pleading, "D-don't stop. Keep going."

She gets a mischievous glint in her eyes. So he liked that, huh?

Everything she is doing is driving them crazy and it wouldn't be long before their hand grabs at the back of her head and suddenly they are fucking furiously into her mouth, and the way she is choking and gagging with tears in her eyes makes them lose it even more because fuck, she looks so pretty like this on her knees, pleasuring them and now letting them use her for their pleasure.

After the haze of pleasure has passed, like perhaps an hour later, they still couldn't help but think about the BJ. It was good. Really good. Now that they're thinking with their brain and not their dick more clearly, they are wondering where she learned to do the things she did earlier.

Xavier couldn't help but be suspicious. He trusts her. He really does, but he still wants an explanation. He's not sure how to approach this topic without coming off as distrusting and jealous. So he just spends the rest of the day pouting and mutilating her plants until she notices and demands an answer for his sudden mood change. After some awkward bickering, it comes out that he's...curious about what she did earlier, and she confesses that she and the girls at work had some girl talk recently...and this came up. Xavier is relieved now, but believe that this man will not be making eye contact with his fellow female associates for a month at least.

Rafayel will start shading her lmao Just making a lot of passive-aggressive comments and beating around the bush. He's not even trying to be subtle. He wants her to know it is bothering him. But he doesn't want to say it directly. If he's going to be a brat about it, she's also not going to say it directly either. Instead, she just sends him a few links and watches as his ears turn red and his eyes widen in shock. She asks him if he has anything on his mind he wants to share with her, and he just goes, "Noooppppe. All good, cutie. Do you want to go to a seafood buffet with me? :D"

Sylus is asking her point blank lmao rip. He watches in amusement as she's the one red-faced and stuttering, before he finally urges her to 'fess up. She glares at him and insists she didn't do anything wrong. She just took some advices from friends and watched a few videos. He accepts this, but he is messing with her now, saying he is disappointed she didn't invite him to join her in her research. He starts asking for the videos she had watched, saying this could be their next movie night together...

Zayne is curious, but he's also kind of too embarrassed to ask. He doesn't suspect she has been unfaithful, but he is wondering where she learned her new moves. He gets his answers when he later realizes she had borrowed his laptop earlier and forgot to close the browser and clear her search history... Perhaps...Dr. Zayne should do his own research, and...return the favor.

Caleb will start teasing her, being all "you know, if I didn't know any better, I would think you learned those moves with another guy, but that can't be it, because I'm the only guy you need and want, right, pipsqueak? 🙂"

"I don't know, maybe you should ask Gideon."

"What. 😐"

"I learned them from a porn video, you dummy."

"Oh thank fuck. I almost had to kill Gideon just now. 🥺"

"What."

"What? 🥺"

#x — 💌#anonymous #lmao anon it is now 3 pm where i am now that i am responding to this 🙂‍↕️

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missvelvetsstuff · 2 months ago

Text

Misunderstandings & Miscommunications

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Reader works as an administrator for the Thunderbolts* and quickly falls for the White Wolf. The team is hesitant to trust her and drama ensues.

Note: As usual I'm stuck in a story and starting yet another one. This has been rolling around in my head since we went to see Thunderbolts* so hopefully getting this out will help knock some inspiration for The Situation Room and No Benefits.

I've tried to keep the reader neutral but she is a she and as always taller than average. I haven't seen a story like this one but haven't been able to keep up with all the new works so if it seems similar please know that's not my intention.

Anyhow, I hope y'all like it. Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, swearing, cannabis use

Chapter 4

The morning after Poppy overheard Bucky and Yelena she wanted to stay in her room and play sick but still had too much work to do. She got ready for work then went to get her favorite coffee and found Bucky loitering around her desk when she took the elevator back up.

Poppy took a deep breath before speaking "Good morning, Barnes. What can I do for you?"

Bucky was confused, why was she calling him Barnes? "I was wondering if you want to have lunch with me today?"

Poppy looked at him sadly "Sorry, I'm just swamped today."

"Ok, how about tomorrow?"

She felt uncomfortable, why was he being so persistent when he had Yelena? Poppy didn't want the former assassin coming after her for spending time with her man. "I'm sorry but I don't think I'll be able to get out this week. You should ask Yelena."

Bucky was even more confused, why was she bringing up Yelena? "Is everything ok, Poppy?"

She gave him a bright smile that didn't reach her eyes "Of course, everything is fine. I just have a lot going on, that's all. Maybe some other time."

"Right. I'll let you get to work then." Bucky left, feeling sad that the first person that gave him that thrill of attraction in a long while, and who he thought liked him, was blowing him off. He went to work out.

After that, Poppy started to make herself scarce, taking meals in her room or at her desk and avoiding movie nights. She finally told Ava a few days later that she had changed her mind about telling Bucky and insisted it would cause more drama than it was worth. Ava was skeptical, knowing there was something that Poppy wasn't saying but convinced her to try some dating apps to see if she could find someone to distract her from Bucky.

Poppy was a bit overwhelmed with all of it and was ready to give up since most of the messages she got included dick pics but finally matched with a guy and scheduled a date.

His name was Josh and seemed nice enough as they messaged each other. He was in the medical field, selling durable medical equipment like crutches and wheelchairs to hospitals and clinics. They agreed to meet at the restaurant he recommended.

To start he was 15 minutes late but she looked past that since she could definitely relate to getting caught up at work.

When she ordered pasta he looked her up and down, frowning "You know, something lighter might help you fit into a bikini when we go to Miami in August."

Poppy sighed "It's our first date and you're trying to control what I eat? While planning a trip without even asking me? That's not a great start."

He scoffed "I'm just trying to help."

Poppy tried to change the subject but he wouldn't have it.

"Oh I get it, you're one of those independent women. Well you'll have to work on that if you want to be with me. I'm an alpha and won't be with a woman who won't fall in line. You'll have to leave your job too. My woman won't be working."

Poppy took a deep breath to keep from hurting him or starting a scene and just finished her meal.

Josh paid the check but didn't leave a tip so Poppy left a couple of bills on the table before they left.

On their way out the door, Josh turned to look at her "So my place or yours? There's a motel not far from here where we can-"

Poppy stopped on the sidewalk and stared at him "What do you think is happening right now?"

Josh grabbed her wrist and pulled her "I paid for dinner so where do you want me to fuck you? Cars are too cramped unless you just want to give me a blowie but an alley is ok. So where's it gonna be?"

Poppy scoffed as she pulled her arm free "It's not going to be anywhere at all and you're quite presumptuous to assume that I'd put out on the first date."

Josh shook his head "I should have known you'd be too uptight, probably frigid. Forget it." And stalked into the bar a few shops down.

Poppy sighed and tried not to let herself get too discouraged. This was the first date, just one guy and she hoped the next one was better as she took an uber home.

When the car stopped she looked up at the tower and hoped she didn't run into anyone but it was barely 9pm so she knew someone would be up. She took the elevator up and kept her fingers crossed that at least Bucky wouldn't be awake but of course the entire team was in the common room watching some reality show. Poppy took a deep breath and squared her shoulders when the doors opened and headed straight for her room before she heard her name.

It was Ava "Hey Poppy are you ok? That was pretty quick for a date."

Poppy shrugged "I'm fine, we just didn't click. He was a bit of a bore and exhausting. I'm going to go crash, I have work to do tomorrow."

Bob smiled at her sadly "Tomorrow is Sunday, we're going for brunch. You should come with us and take at least one day off."

Bucky just stared with a hurt look on his face, wondering why she was going on dates with strangers when he was right here but he wiped it off and looked away as soon as she looked at him.

Poppy shrugged "I can't tomorrow, maybe some other time."

Instead of going to her own room she went to talk to her friend Jeffrey, the chef. He loaned her some sweats and a t-shirt and they sat up for a couple of hours watching tv and getting high. She fell asleep in his bed and woke up to Jeffs snoring. She smiled and grabbed her clothes before quietly leaving. She looked carefully and didn't see or hear anyone still up so quickly went to her room without noticing Bucky going to his room.

Bucky noticed her and sighed sadly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next weekend there was another 1st date. This one was named Dylan. He was a little better, showed up on time, pulled her seat out and didn't react to the food she ordered.

But he was so very dull. An accountant who went on and on about tax codes and write offs and investment strategies until she could barely keep her eyes open. He talked about his company softball team and she stopped listening after that. She looked at him and nodded occasionally while mentally going thru her wardrobe to make space for new clothes, like the dress she saw in the store down the street from the tower.

She took a sip of her tea and tried to focus on what Dylan was saying but he was still going on about softball. He didn't ask a single question about her the entire time. When he asked about getting together again she blew him off with excuses about being too busy at work and a new project coming up.

Dylan shrugged, paid half of the bill and wished her a good night.

Poppy sighed on her way home. Two dates with the only two decent guys who had messaged her. So many dick pics and asks for intimate pics of her that she was tired of it already.

When she exited the elevator this time, Bucky was the only one in the common room. He just looked at her, like she was a puzzle he needed to figure out.

Poppy stared back "What? Is there something on my face?"

Bucky shook his head before he spoke softly "No, sweetheart you look beautiful but why so sad?"

Poppy felt her stomach fall at the compliment and pet name "I, uh, thank you. But I'm not sad, just frustrated I guess. Dating is a nightmare, I don't know why I let Ava talk me into using one of the apps. I'm just better off alone than trying to find someone decent who will understand the insanity of my career."

"What about Jeffrey?"

She gave him a confused look "Jeffrey? You mean Jeff, the chef? We've been friends sinch high school but it's not like that with us. We hooked up a couple of times back then. He was one of those deeply closeted guys who slept with every woman he met before he had to admit his own truth. His fiance, Wil, will be back from visiting his family in Venezuela next month. They're getting married next Christmas."

Bucky stood and moved towards her "So not Jeff?"

Poppy shook her head "Not Jeff, we're close and like to hang out and get high, watch stupid stuff on TV. Like South Park. I passed out in his room the other night."

Bucky moved a bit closer "What if there was already someone who understood your insanity and was interested in you? Would you take a chance on him?"

Poppy laughed "Of course but I'm pretty sure he doesn't exist."

He stepped a little closer and reached for her hand "What if he was standing right in front of you?"

Poppy backed up, pulling her hand away from his "Bucky, what are you doing? I don't think Yelena-"

Bucky stepped closer again "Why do you keep bringing Yelena up when I try to get close to you?" he gently took her hand with his flesh hand "I don't know what Yelena has to do with you and me."

Poppy pulled away from him "Maybe I just don't want to give her another reason to hate me. She could slit my throat while I'm sleeping. I'm sure she's already planned my death in a variety of ways and I don't want to find out."

Bucky shook his head, frustrated "Poppy! What the hell are you talking about? Why would Yelena want to kill you for getting close to me? You aren't making any sense."

Poppy scoffed "What? Do you two have an open relationship or something?"

He stared at her "Relationship? What do you mean? The only relationship I have with Yelena is teammates, co-workers, we-" he stopped, trying to think thru what she was saying. When it clicked he started to chuckle.

Poppy looked at him like he had lost his mind "Why is the idea of Yelena killing me so damn funny?"

Bucky took her hands and pulled her closer to him "There's nothing between me and Yelena, I don't see her that way and she's pretty tight with Bob."

Poppy started getting mad "What kind of kinky bullshit are you trying to pull me into? I heard you telling her, don't try to lie to me. I don't play head games and won't be the other woman, even for you, Bucky Barnes!"

He looked at her confused, "Games? Other woman? I don't understand. What did you hear me tell Yelena?"

Poppy took a breath to calm herself before she started a fist fight with the former Winter Soldier "A couple of weeks ago, Ava convinced me to tell you-" she paused before blurting out the details of her conversation with Ava. "And I went towards the kitchen but heard you talking to Yelena when I passed her room."

Bucky spoke softly and slowly "What did I say to her?"

Poppy cleared her throat and sniffled "You said you like her and she makes you feel human."

Bucky laughed out loud and Poppy felt her eyes fill with tears. She tried to push him away but he barely moved "You don't have to laugh at me!"

Bucky rubbed her arms "I'm sorry doll, I'm not really laughing at you just at the misunderstanding here." he sighed and tried to steel his nerves to tell her the truth "Yelena was helping me because there is someone I'm interested in and I was scared, didn't know what to say. She was helping me practice what I would say to the woman I do want."

He reached out to caress her cheek before turning her face to look at him and spoke softly "That woman is you, Poppy. I've been drawn to you since we met and the time we spent together before this misunderstanding was some of the best in my memory.

Poppy, beautiful, sweet, bright Poppy would you like to go out on a date with me?"

Poppy just stared at him in shock for a moment before whispering "Seriously? You like, me?" her lip quivered before he leaned in and kissed her so softly she wondered if she was imagining it. She opened her eyes and he was right there, smiling into the kiss. She closed her eyes and sighed into the kiss.

Bucky growled softly before pulling away. "Why don't we wait to see how the date goes before we take that any further, yeah?"

Poppy nodded, heart fluttering "Yeah, ok. So when do you want to go out on this date?"

Bucky smiled as he pulled her close "Is breakfast tomorrow too soon?"

Poppy nodded "Yes, I I mean no tomorrow isn't too soon. I like breakfast."

Bucky chuckled "Why don't I walk you to your room so you can get some sleep." he put his arm around her as they walked down the hallway. They stopped at her room and her hugged her tight before kissing her softly on the forehead "Sweet dreams, Poppy."

She went into her room and slowly closed the door while he watched. "G'nite, Bucky." She leaned against the door and let out a happy little squeal.

Bucky heard her and touched her door for a second before walking away with a smile that followed him into his dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the next few weeks Poppy and Bucky spent all of their free time together. Sometimes watching movies in one of their rooms or dates to the diner, or a nice restaurant, or a museum. Sometimes with the team who thought they were adorable and teased Bucky relentlessly.

Yelena was the exception, she still didn't trust Poppy. And Carli who scowled before leaving the room every time she saw them.

One Saturday the entire team went out to Coney Island. Bucky felt like a teenager again, holding hands with Poppy, kissing on the ferris wheel, holding her when she screamed on the roller coaster, sharing cotton candy, playing carnival games and winning the biggest stuffed wolf for her.

When they returned to the tower they were all tired, full from junk food and a bit sunburned.

Bucky walked Poppy to her room and kissed her goodnight but pulled away before it got too heated. Poppy groaned softly "You know most people sleep together on like the second or third date these days."

Bucky smiled into her hair "Guys today don't know how to properly court a lady. Trust me, it'll be worth the wait."

Poppy laughed "Imma hold you to that, Sarge."

Bucky leaned in to kiss her again when they heard someone running towards them.

It was Carli "Buck, there you are." she glared at Poppy before looking back at Bucky "There's something urgent, Yelena told me to find you."

Bucky sighed "Ok, I'll be right there.'

Carli just stood there staring at him "Yelena said-"

Bucky snapped "I heard that, go on and I'll be right there!"

Carli looked at Poppy and smirked before walking away.

Bucky kissed Poppy again "Get some rest, doll. I'll see you in the morning, or call if we have to leave."

Chapter 5

@preeyas-world

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #angst with a happy ending #james bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #misunderstandings & miscommunications

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djarinslover · 2 years ago

Text

Missed You

The ask for this fic

Pairing; Nami x Fem!Reader (no y/n)

Warnings; canon violence, swearing

Word Count; 2.3k

Author’s Note: I’m sorry for getting this out so late ☹️ inspiration was sucked from my soul for a while bc of course it was. I hope you like this, my Nami anon!

A loud laugh emerges from your throat as Sanji spins you around, showing you how he'd win a woman over just through dance. The fire is burning brightly, the drinks flowing and the laughter infectious. You all had stopped to visit this island that Luffy knew of from Shanks; it was considered a "party" island due to the constant drinking, dancing and just vibe of fun that everyone felt when staying. No one objected when Luffy suggested taking a break there for a few days.

Aside from Nami and Zoro, you all were getting rowdy. Yelling, singing way too loudly and poorly, dancing all over the place with strangers and drinking too much. It felt nice to let go for just a night. Until Nami had said, "I thought having another girl around would calm things down but you're just as bad as the boys."

You didn't see anything wrong with blowing off some steam but the comment was a dagger to the heart. You tried to shake it off as you dance with Usopp, your best friend, but it lingers in the back of your mind for days afterward. You thought maybe you'd forget about since you were very drunk when she said that but it made quite an impact on your behavior around Nami.

You and Usopp came as a packaged deal, which Luffy had no problem with when you all met. He allowed you to join his crew, which was nice since you knew a thing or two about fixing up wounds and they definitely needed a doctor onboard. Never knew who they'd get into a fight with these days. It was a bonus you got to spend the days with the redheaded navigator, Nami. Being the only other girl onboard, the two of you bonded. Well, bonded as much as Nami would. She let you sit with her while she charted out paths, figuring out the best direction to go in. She said it was nice to have another woman around, that the energy was too "masculine" until you came along.

A crush started developing on Nami, to your slight terror. Nami could be cold at times, which left you questioning if she actually liked having you around or not. She was sarcastic, quick witted with a sharp tongue, and she wasn't afraid to tell someone the truth. You felt like you never knew where you stood with her. So when she had said you were as bad as the boys, you thought she couldn't stand you. It hurt but it gave you the push to get rid of the silly little crush you had.

After that night, you began avoiding Nami on the ship, turning down any moment to hang out with her. You were still polite, making small talk when you had to and relaying information when needed but you didn't spend any unnecessary time with her. She eventually stopped telling you that you could stay by her side as she navigated; she began only speaking to you when it was needed. You thought maybe this would help buy any feelings you had for her but it seemed to only amplify whatever you felt.

You were longing to make her laugh, to have her flash that little smile at you, to have those small lingering touches on your skin. You wanted to go back to the way the two of you had been. But it felt like maybe the damage was done. The two of you would exchange nods with awkward slight smiles, avoiding touching each other when in a small space. The boys finally seemed to notice the tension, Sanji being the one to point it out. Usopp felt hurt that you didn't come to him with what was bothering you. You were practically his sister; he wanted you to tell him everything.

"What's going on with you and Nami?" Usopp corners you in your room, demanding answers.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Everything is fine." You flash a tense smile, forcing yourself to look happy.

"Oh, come on. I haven't seen you two giggle and talk like you do. What happened?"

You sigh, caving rather quickly. Usopp could always read you and there was no sense in trying to keep up appearances in front of him. "Nami said something a few days ago that hurt me. I figured she didn't like me so I've been avoiding her."

"That's crazy! Of course she likes you!" You shoot him a frown. "Captain Usopp never lies!"

Rolling your eyes, you brush past Usopp to head out onto the new island Luffy had landed on. You needed more medical supplies and didn't want to talk about this situation anymore with him. "I'm heading out. I'll see you later."

Usopp wilts as you go, upset and not knowing what to do.

You're strolling around the island humming to yourself, admiring the people as they went about their day. Too occupied with watching other people, you're not paying attention to where you were walking, ending up bumping into a rather large woman. She was tall, muscular, and her eyes were flaming with rage.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't see you there."

The woman gets in your face, steam practically coming out of her ears as she stares down at you. "How could you not see me standing here?!"

"I wasn't paying attention, I'm sorry."

"You're about to be sorry!"

She swings at you, a hefty fist meeting your cheek with a heavy thwack. It makes you dizzy, sends you stumbling backwards. You hear your name being called by someone from the crew, though you were too disoriented to figure out who it was. You shake your head to try to clear your vision, seeing double of the woman who hit you. You could see she was winding up to hit you again. Your vision stops spinning, and you manage to duck the next hit, throwing your own punch into the woman's face.

Your punch doesn't land as hard as you had hoped; it seemed to only make the woman angrier. She lands hit after hit on you, and all you could think was that this happened all because you accidentally bumped into her. You're unable to defend yourself, too disoriented to make your own punches. Eventually you feel her get pulled off of you, Zoro's voice loud while Luffy's was soft and gentle. You could see Sanji and Usopp leaning over you, faces pinched tight with worry. They were the last faces you saw before passing out.

Nami was startled by the boys bustling to the ship, voices raised and frantic. She looked down to see you limp in Zoro's arms. Confused, she met them at the deck to see what was going on and why they were running around like chickens without heads.

"What's the problem? She drink too much?" Nami asks.

"She got into a fight," Zoro says with a clipped tone.

"What?!" Nami says, alarmed. "With who?"

"Some woman. She just started hitting her for no reason," Usopp says as he stares down at you.

Everyone crowds into your room, watching as Zoro gently lays you down on your bed. Sanji comes in with a cool cloth to lay on your forehead, dabbing it softly to see if you would respond to the stimulation. You just lay there, still and too quiet for everyone's liking, your face purpling with bruises.

"What are we going to do?" Luffy asks, frown deep on his face. "She's our doctor, she'd know what to do."

"Yeah, well she's not here to tell us how to help," Zoro grunts. "We'll just have keep eyes on her until she wakes up. Hopefully it won't be long."

Nami bites her lip, watching your sleeping face. "I'll take first watch."

The boys nod, leaving her alone to watch over you. She took the cool cloth from Sanji, pressing it against your forehead and neck at times to keep sweat from sticking to you. She sighs, slumping down to be beside you. "This is going to be a long night, huh?"

The hours you spent unconscious turned into days. The crew began to get extremely worried and scared. They didn't know what to do, how to wake you up or if they should wake you up. Throughout the days they took turns on sitting with you, pouring water down your throat and keeping you cool so as to not catch a fever. Your face wasn't as badly bruised anymore, so they had hope that you were recovering and would wake up at any moment. They decided if for one more day you stayed unconscious, they would seek help from someone else. Nami thinks they should've done that from day one but the boys thought you were fine for the night.

Nami was sitting with you again, holding your hand. She traced patterns on your palm, sighing softly. "You know, it's been awfully lonely without you here. The boys are great, sure, but they've got nothing on your jokes." Nami stares at your face, a small smile on her lips. "I miss hearing you laugh at Luffy and Usopp. I miss that cocky smile you give me when you make me laugh. I miss hearing your voice . . . Wake up soon, okay?"

She stands to get you some water before freezing as your eyelids open slowly. "What else do you miss about me, Red?" you croak, voice hoarse from days of not using it, lips curling into the smile she was talking about.

"Oh my god, you're awake!"

Nami doesn't know what to do; she wants to hug you, she wants to get the boys, she wants to cry with relief. Instead she grabs your hand again, sitting down on the bed next to you. You try to sit up, grunting with effort as you push up. Nami helps until you're comfortable.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Eh, I heard something about my smile and then you said you missed my voice. Figured I should let you hear it."

Nami tries her best to not roll her eyes even as a smile cracks her face. "I was telling the truth. I missed you a lot these past few days."

"Days?!" you gasp.

"Yeah. That woman really kicked your ass."

You groan, rubbing your face. "Oh my god, no wonder I sound like I smoked all of Sanji's cigarettes. And why my head is pounding."

"Let me go get one of the guys, they can get you something."

"No. I just want to be with you a little longer," you plead. "Please."

Nami nods, squeezing your hand gently. You two sit in silence for a bit before you turn to look at her, a question on the tip of your tongue.

"Did you really miss me?"

Nami seems shocked. "Of course I did."

"I just thought . . . I annoyed you, like the boys annoy you."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you said I'm just as bad as them."

Nami's face turns a slight shade of red, embarrassment making her body run hot. She remembered saying that when you were all drinking but she didn't think you remembered or even heard her. Her head jerks up. "Wait, is that why you've been avoiding me?"

"Well, yeah. I figured I would give you some space. You just seemed so annoyed with me that night."

"Oh, I . . . I was joking. I didn't truly mean it. I like that you're like them, that you can be carefree. I like that you aren't afraid to put them in their place and I like that you're funny and passionate and incredibly smart. I like everything about you. I . . . like you."

It was your turn to feel your face flush. Whether it was excitement or embarrassment, you couldn't tell. Your hand feels sweaty in Nami's grip but you don't want to let go. Not after what she just told you.

"I like you, too, Nami."

You both look at each other, gazes hot and full of excitement. Nami brushes hair off of your forehead, leaning in closer. She bites her lip, hesitant to say whatever she was going to say. You figured you knew what she was going to ask, so you asked first. "Will you kiss me?"

She surges toward you, lips meeting yours with fireworks exploding behind your eyes. It felt like all your puzzle pieces had finally fallen into place. Nami pulls back, resting her forehead against yours as you both breathe heavily, lips tingling with the pressure of having hers on yours. Her hand squeezed, like she was communicating with you. You both had silly smiles on your lips, giddy from the high of finally confessing to one another.

"I'm glad you're awake."

"I'm glad I am, too."

"Hey, Nami. I'm here to-" Usopp stopped short, pausing in the doorway of your room as he looked at you two.

Nami pulls away, her face bright red as she avoided his gaze. "Uhh . . . I was going to come get someone. She's awake."

"Yeahh, I can see that. Luffy owes me ten Berry."

You look at him in alarm, his signature smirk on his face. "Yeah, we bet whether one of you would confess or not when you woke up." He turns to walk away, yelling out, "Hey, Luffy! Pay up, man! The Great Captain Usopp never loses!"

You can't help the giggles escaping you, because you knew your best friend meant well and he just wanted you to be happy. Looking down at your hand, which was still intertwined with Nami's, you knew you were happy. And all it took was a stupid fight.

"Let's go get you some dinner, yeah?" Nami says, standing up to help you stand.

Nami helps you to the galley, where everyone is gathered for whatever delicious smelling food Sanji had cooked up. They all had big smiles on as you walked in, happy to see you well. And doubly happy to see you holding hands with Nami.

Usopp turns to Luffy. "Told you."

Luffy grumbles as he pays up, making you and Nami laugh. It was good to be awake, you thought, bringing Nami's hand to your lips to press a kiss to the back. She beams at you, smile bright enough to outshine the sun. You wouldn't change a thing about your crew.

#nami x reader #nami x reader fic #nami opla #opla #one piece live action #nami one piece #nami fic #x reader #nami x fem reader

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xoxmatilda · 3 months ago

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chapter twenty five

word count: 5.5k

The following week, we saw more and more of each other. There weren't any more studio sessions, but there were a couple of writing sessions at Mitch's or Harry's house with just the two of them that Sarah and I tagged along to. After the first night, I had asked Harry about it, to which he told me Mitch and Sarah had grown closer since starting the album again, spending more time together.

Both writing sessions ended up just being Harry and Mitch writing while Sarah and I hid away in another room of the house getting to know each other. The more time spent with her, the more I grew to like her. She was sweet, and thoughtful. Her dynamic with Mitch was fun to watch bloom. They hid it well in a professional setting, but when it was just the four of us, there were many subtle hints that they liked each other.

Harry also told me that while they do like each other, neither one of them had admitted it to the other. Over the last month since I had last seen everyone, they had grown into this cycle of spending so much time together but the relationship didn't progress anywhere. My mind had flashed briefly to the conversation I had with Sarah in the studio with the rest of the band.

'New flames are fragile, you don't want to blow them out from the pressure of trying to make it bigger before it's ready.'

It had stuck with me all week, how it sounded like she was speaking from experience, but I couldn't pinpoint how. It also wasn't my place to pinpoint how or why she was speaking that piece of advice from experience, but now I understand. Her relationship with Mitch being so new, one or both of them have probably agreed to take it slow, or put a pause on it; to make sure there wasn't any unnecessary pressure.

My mind then wandered to Harry. While, yes, he made a big step early on, he wasn't putting any added pressure onto me to explore my feelings, or to figure out where I stand before we move forward. Things hadn't been awkward between us since our conversation early that morning in the studio. Harry made sure of it, and I was thankful, otherwise I would have made it awkward and got in my head about it. The whole week leading up to our planned trip, we kept things the same. The only thing that had changed was the amount of time he spent together which didn't feel all that different, considering we had already been spending quite a bit of time together before.

We spent the night together every night of the week after the studio, either at his place or mine. If he had meetings or I had work that needed done, we would go our separate ways during the day but come back together in the evening. We went on one other date during that week, but it was more of a celebration. I had admitted to Harry that I was going to accept a small photography job from Bryan to get my feet wet again. It would start the following week after we got back from Arizona.

Harry's excitement was beyond anything I had ever seen. He was speechless at first–just picked me up and spun me around, relentlessly kissing me in celebration. The following night it was my turn to go to his house. He had surprised me with dinner–that he made himself–on the beach at sunset. We spent hours out on the sand, even after the sun had set, wrapped in each other's arms. The only thing said after dinner between us were Harry's comments about how proud he was of me that I was getting back into the field besides the work I was doing for him.

One of the last nights before we left, we hung out with Lily again in our living room after she got off of a shift from the bar. We made a few drinks and played some games together. After we were about to go to bed, Harry lingered in the living room a little to talk to Lily while I got myself ready for bed. When he finally came in and lied down with me, he told me he wanted to add another day to our trip to Arizona, which would mean we would leave for the canyon on Thursday instead of Friday.

"But I work tomorrow night?"

To which he responded that he had somehow convinced Lily to take my shift for me so we could get there a day early. I don't know how he did it, I don't know what he said to Lily to make her agree to it after having to cover so many of my shifts to begin with, but I was thankful for it. Three uninterrupted days with Harry. No work obligations, no cramming in last minute editing so I could spend as much time with him as possible during the night. Just him, me, and Oliver's favorite places.

Oliver's birthday had been something I had dreaded for months. I had a mental countdown in my head after the funeral, always aware of the date in relation to his birthday on the calendar and how many days until it would inevitably come. Now, riding with him in the back of the car to the airport, I had a strong sense of calm. I was determined for this trip to go well. I knew it wasn't a vacation. This was technically a work trip–to work on ourselves–but I get to do it with someone that I was growing to care for at an alarmingly quick rate.

We slept at my apartment the night before our flight, with it being closer to the airport. Harry was up all night worried about me having a negative reaction to the trip during the night despite knowing how I felt about when he did that. He slept the entire flight to Phoenix while I did some editing. We rented a car for the weekend this time–Harry didn't want to rely on a car service again. I think he was mostly concerned I would leave him in the desert for the second time. He also explained to me how much he loved going on road trips. He said the four hour drive to the canyon would be perfect for him to get the itch out of his system.

Harry surprised me and canceled our hotel downtown and booked the writing house instead. He told me it wouldn't be a weekend of Oliver's favorite things if we stayed in a hotel, considering how much he loved the house. Harry refused to let me drive from the airport to the house, despite his aggressive yawning he did the entire way here. I partially expected myself to have some sort of reaction from the drive through the city, especially since I grew up so close to the airport, everything on the drive was familiar. Surprisingly, with Harry's fingers intertwined with mine, or his hand gripping the inside of my thigh and his thumb tracing circles, I felt totally at peace.

I was fully prepared to have to entertain myself while he took another nap, but as soon as we got to the house, he told me it was time to get ready to go back out again. I asked him where we were going but he refused to answer me. The only thing he would tell me was that we were spending the weekend 'visiting all of Oliver's favorite places.'

The weather was hotter in Arizona, causing me to change out of my airport clothes into a simple sundress. Something that would allow me to breathe in the rugged, dry heat of the desert around us. I clipped up my hair to get it off my back before meeting Harry downstairs when I was done. The only layer he had shed was his sweatshirt he wore on the plane. He was seated at the dining room table, sunglasses pushing back his hair, scrolling on his phone.

He peered up from his hands at the sound of my sandals hitting the tile floor. He continued to give me a blank stare for a long moment before finally standing from the table and closing the space between us. His expression was serious, almost as if he had seen something on his phone he didn't like, but I liked how it softened slightly when he looked at me. Like the way he looked at me was different from how he looked at everyone else.

"You look beautiful, Tilly." I smiled and looked down at our hands that he was now interlocking together in muscle memory.

"Thank you."

He led me out to the car and started us toward our first destination, still refusing to tell me where we were going, "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

I gave him a confident nod, the first one I think I've ever given him since we met, "I'm weirdly excited to see this city again. It's brought me bad memories for the longest time, but I think seeing it this way, through Oliver's eyes, will give me a better perspective."

He eventually parked the car somewhere near downtown Phoenix and walked us across the street to a small mom and pop ice cream shop. We stop on the sidewalk outside of the front door, looking up at the sign. Our mom used to bring us here when we were kids.

I can see Harry look over at me out of my peripheral vision and he gives my hand a couple gentle squeezes. I look at him and he gives me a reassuring smile and a look that I knew was asking if I was okay. I smiled back and gave him a nod. We ate our ice cream outside at a small table on the sidewalk in front of the windows of the shop.

Our silence felt tense at first. Like he wanted to know what the significance of this place was for Oliver and I but wasn't sure how to ask me. I didn't take into account that most, if not all, of Oliver's favorite places were more than likely going to mean reliving my childhood. I didn't feel like I was going to spiral out because of it, though, it was just a pill I was having a hard time swallowing.

"He would drag Mitch and I here every time we visited Arizona. Usually as a late night snack when the sun was already gone... He'd always get–"

"Cookie dough on a cone," I finished the order for Harry. His eyes glance quickly up at mine at my contribution to the conversation, almost as if he forgot for a second that I would know a lot of the places we visit this weekend.

I look down at my cup of ice cream, gathering some onto my spoon, "Our mom brought us here all the time when we were kids."

It only happened before my dad left us, but that's beside the point. In a way, I think Oliver was trying to heal a part of his childhood by bringing Harry and Mitch here on their writing trips. We rarely ever came here when he visited. Homelife being too much of a shitshow when he was in town, he never had the time before he had to rush back on a flight back to LA.

We sat outside of the ice cream shop for a while before we got up and started walking down the streets of Phoenix. Harry took us down some alleys to see some of the wall art that was scattered around the city.

"I didn't know you were such a fan of art," I nudged him with my shoulder as we came up to a piece painted on a white brick wall, "First the LA museum and now these?"

He shrugged with his hands in the pockets of his shorts, "I guess I'm just learning to appreciate things a little differently lately."

We both paused a beat, taking in the mural in front of us painted on the side of a building. "The lights last week were all my idea. They really do remind me of you. These murals Ollie showed me during the times we spent in Phoenix. Something always seemed to trouble him when we were here. He never talked about it. One night, though, I had caught him up late in the kitchen, something was very clearly weighing on him. He didn't want to talk about it but told me he was going to go for a drive and invited me to come along. I didn't want to leave him alone in case something happened to him so I tagged along. He brought us here."

The mural was of a boy dumping a watercan, the contents being dozens of black birds all big and small running out. The boy was standing on a box that was built into the side of the building with a quote from Mother Teresa.

'At the end of life, we will not be judged by how many diplomas we have received, how much money we have made, how many great things we have done. We will be judged by 'I was hungry and you gave me something to eat. I was naked and you clothed me. I was homeless and you took me on.''

"We sat in front of this mural for hours that night in silence. I never got to ask him why this one meant so much to him, but out of all the ones he took me to see over the last couple years, this was the only one that stirred that kind of reaction from him," Harry doesn't look at me. His eyes run over the mural replaying the distant memory of him and Oliver. Reading the description, I knew exactly why Oliver was drawn to this.

–

"You ever wish you could go back in time and give yourself a warning when you were younger?"

I look over at him, the firelight dancing shadows around his face as it flickers in the dark of the night around us, "A warning?"

He takes a drink of his beer, "I wasted so much of highschool worrying about if I would end up like either of them. Never went out with friends, never kept a girlfriend. Hell, I gave up extracurriculars my senior year because of Mom. I wish I could go back and tell myself to relax. That everything would work out."

"I've never thought about that..." My voice trails and I become quiet in thought. Oliver looks over at me, a look of despair in his eyes as he passes me his bottle. I take a swig, immediately wincing at the taste. He laughs as he reaches for it back.

"Never had beer before?"

I shake my head, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, "Can't say I have."

Oliver settles back in his seat and tilts his head to look up at the stars, "Do you think there's somewhere we go when we leave here?"

"Leave here? I think you've had enough to drink."

"Probably," he agrees, bringing the beer bottle up to his mouth, downing the rest of its contents.

I look up at the sky along with him, positioning my head on the back of my chair. His previous question lingers in the air between us, almost like it's caught on something. I don't know how to answer. He's been deep in thought a lot lately whenever we're together. Maybe it was the recent events at home that had caused this visit, or maybe it was something with work stressing him out, but he never used to have this deep of thoughts, at least not with me.

"I think we're able to watch over this place when we're gone," I say, "At least that's what I like to believe to make myself feel better about the subject of dying. That even when someone is gone, they're never truly gone."

He's quiet. I wait a minute before continuing, but he doesn't respond .

"Is he going to come back?" My voice is shaky, giving away my thoughts.

Oliver shrugs, "Probably. You know him. He's worthless, and doesn't have anything else better to do than to bother us."

I inhale a shaky breath, it being louder than I had intended. Oliver glances over at me, his expression softens, "If he comes back, you do the same thing you did this time. You call me and I'll come."

I roll my eyes slightly at him, knowing he can't see me since he's looking at my side profile, "You live two states away. Dad can do more damage in the two hour flight it would take for you to get here than if you were still living here."

"My offer for you to come live with me still stands. It always will," He offers, his voice getting quieter.

I shake my head in response, "You know I can't. She needs me too much."

He sits back in his chair nodding his head at me, knowing that it was time to leave the subject alone. He's offered for me to come live with him countless times. Told me he could financially support me until I could find a job, and I could live in his spare room as long as I needed. Everytime we had the conversation it ended with me not being able to leave our mom, who is currently just a shell of the woman I remember her being as a little girl.

I couldn't leave her alone when our father, the love of her life was drunkenly terrorizing the house in the middle of the night because he refused to give up his house key in the divorce that he asked for.

He throws his bottle in the trash bag near his feet before sitting back in the chair. He's quiet for a beat before he responds to what I said. "If I die, I'm not watching over this place. This place is a shit show; I've seen enough of it."

"And what about me? Leave me here alone wondering where you are?"

A soft chuckle escaped from his chest, his shoulders move up and down with it, "Tils, what kind of a big brother would I be if I did that? I'd obviously send someone to watch over you for me."

–

I feel wandering eyes on me and soft nudges on my hip. I look to my right and see Harry towering over me, a look of concern on his face as he studies me. His look tells me he's wondering what's going through my head.

"Where'd you go, Tilly?"

I shake the daydream out of my head, blinking it back a few times. I give him a smile and interlock my fingers with his, "Nowhere, I'm right here."

I turn back to the mural, gathering my thoughts from the memory. Harry doesn't press further. We walk the streets a while as the sun started setting behind some impending rain clouds, with no destination in mind. We eventually found our way back to the car, my feet hurting and Harry's dark circles growing more prominent as he runs on close to three hours of sleep. He drives us across town and pulls into a parking lot.

When I look up from my phone, answering a text from Lily asking me how things were going, I recognize the large brick building and the stadium immediately. I exit the car looking around at the building as memories come flooding back. Harry comes around to my side of the car, sliding his arm around my waist as he looks around to get a better view of what I'm seeing.

"Harry?"

"Yes, love." He pulls me to him as if sensing a little bit of my tension. He buries his face in my hair as my arms slowly find their way around his neck. I can't help but get the sense that he feels like he's walking on eggshells around me right now given the circumstances of why we're here. This trip was entirely his idea, but it's obvious he fears it's going to end like the last trip we made.

"Why are we at my highschool?"

"Believe it or not, coming here with Oliver was a tradition on writing trips out here."

I pulled back enough to look at Harry in the eyes, almost expecting him not to be serious, "He'd drag us out here if we were stir crazy, bored, or uninspired. C'mon."

He pulls my hand and leads us to the closed metal gate of the stadium, the lights shining on the field becoming more and more blinding the closer we get to the field. Harry grabs a key hidden off to the side and unlocks the gate before looking over at me.

"Oliver knew the head of the sports department. All he had to do was give him a heads up on a night there were no games, and he'd leave the key out for us. Turns out he still works here, just had to mention Ollie's name," He gives me a wide smile as he pulls me through the gate.

I follow him to the middle of the field. On our way in he grabbed a soccer ball from a cart that was left out on the track. He kicked it over to the closest goal. "He'd bring you out here to play soccer?"

He nodded, "Mitch wasn't a big fan of it, but Ollie and I would do one v. one matches all the time. It was a great way that we could get out any pent up frustration we had."

Harry lets go of my hand as we got closer to the goal and walks over to the ball, doing a move with his foot on the ball and suddenly, it's in the air, bouncing around on his foot and ankles. I watched in admiration as we switched legs, practicing tricks he had probably learned as a little boy. Oliver knew how to do those moves and it had been forever since I had seen him do them. Even before the accident, he was always busy. Either working when I visited him, or putting out fires when he visited me.

I kick off my sandals, setting my bag and phone down on the turf next to the goal post before moving into the center of the net, facing Harry. He eyes me up and down, a smirk playing on his lips.

I look at him, "Shoot."

He shakes his head slightly, his foot never faltering with his kicks on the ball, keeping it in the air effortlessly, "You don't know what you're asking for, sunshine."

I take my stance, squatting a bit to get prepared, smirking right back at him, making straight eye contact, "Try me."

He raises an eyebrow at me, letting the ball fall to the ground before putting his foot on top of it to keep it from bouncing away. He maneuvers it to where he wants it, looking between me, the ball, and the post, lining his shot. He takes a couple steps back, before getting a slight running start and taking a kick. The ball goes flying, heading towards the upper right corner of the goal. I time the shot right, side stepping and jumping into the air at the perfect time to catch it, stopping the ball in its path.

I look up at him, a triumphant smile on my face. He nods and holds up his hands, applauding quietly, "Very impressive, sunshine."

He motions for the ball back. I toss it to him before making my way back to the center goal. He lines up his shot again and I watch his eyes, bouncing between me, the ball and the far left side of the goal this time. He pauses, takes a deep breath, then moves to make the shot, but I stop it with ease. I roll it back to him.

"That's two for two, baby. Someone's a little rusty," I turn around and look back at him with a wink, his eyes hardening and then softening at my tease.

"I'm just getting warmed up, love," he says through a smirk.

He repeats his practiced routine of concentrating before taking the goal. This time the ball goes to the right again but down low, causing me to have to dive. I feel the ball hit my hands as I tighten my grip around it before hitting the turf with a grunt from the force.

Harry jobs over to me. He crouches down before helping me up off the ground. "You alright?"

I let out a laugh at his question which causes him to raise his eyebrow with a playful look. "It's going to take a lot more than that to stop me, love," I smile before raising on the tip of my toes to plant a kiss on his cheek.

His smile deepens, showcasing his dimples in full force, "Yeah? Alright, your turn to score, then."

He tosses me the ball, and he winks at me before I turn to find my spot on the field. Harry centers himself in the middle of the goal, taking a similar stance as I did before. Just as I'm planning my trajectory, the sky opens up, letting down a torrential downpour onto us.

I look up at the sky, throwing my arms up before looking back at Harry, "Now this isn't fair. It's raining and I'm barefoot."

He laughs, "Excuses, excuses."

Normally, I would have quit. Two months ago, I would have waved a white flag at these circumstances and gave up while I was ahead in blocking his shots. Now, seeing his playful smirk as he prepares to block my shot, it stirs a competitiveness inside me that I can't ignore. I center the ball, lining it up to where I want it to go before stepping back, taking a deep breath and pushing the wet strands of my hair that had fallen out of my clip off my face.

I recenter myself. Aim. Shoot. Harry darts to the left most side of the goal, but the ball zips past his head into the goal. My arms shoot to the sky in triumph and Harry sprints to me, wrapping his arms around my legs and lifting me up into his arms before spinning me around. He spins us around quickly, but his foot slips on the slippery wet turf shooting out from under him. We tumble to the ground, his grip on me tightening before we hit the turf.

I collapse to his chest in a fit of laughter. He moves the hair out of my face, a look of pure concern washing over him as he searches my face for any hint that I was hurt. He settles slowly when he sees my reaction. He plants a kiss on my lips, molding our lips together momentarily before he moves to stand, taking me with him.

With his hands placed on my hips he sets me on the ground, centering me. I snake my hands around his neck and look up at him. Curly strands of hair leak out over his forehead that were once styled back. Water dripping from the small ringlets, down his face.

"You never told me you were good at football," his voice is a normal tone, but barely audible from the sound of the rain around us.

"Three years of varsity in high school," I smile up at him, "There's a lot about me you still don't know yet."

He hums a laugh out and bushes our noses against each other ever so slightly, "I can't wait to uncover all your secrets."

He plants a slow kiss on my forehead before leading me over to my stuff by the goal post. We exit the gate of the field, Harry locks the gate and hides the key away in the spot he found it. He takes my hand in his after he turns around, leading me to the parking lot but I stop when I run out of sidewalk. He turns, seeing me about to put my sandals back on before continuing. He drops my hand, steps closer to me and scoops me up bridal style, jogging across the parking lot to the car with me in a fit of giddy laughter.

The drive back to the house was a peaceful silence. The sound of the rain hitting the windshield filling the space between us. Harry's thumb traced his thumb around the shape of my knuckles on my hand, periodically planting kisses to the back of my hand. I looked up at him a moment as he drove back across town from my old high school.

"How are you still awake right now?"

He shrugs, his left hand tightening over the steering wheel, "Adrenaline from being around you, I guess."

I smile and shake my head at him, wrapping my right arm around his and laying my head on his shoulder that was hovering over the center console, "Smooth."

When we got home, we stepped through the front door and I exhaled a breath of relief, happy to be back for the night after a long day. Ready to peel my wet clothes off of my body. Harry led me upstairs to the master bedroom, the one I stayed in the last time we were here.

"I can't wait to get into dry clothes," I say, rushing over to my suitcase as soon as my feet hit the carpeted floor.

"Me too," he chimed from the other side of the room.

I pulled out clothes, throwing them on a nearby chair and unzipped my dress, stepping out of it. I freeze as soon as the fabric hits the floor. When I realize I'm just in my underwear in front of him. I was so absent-minded, replaying the events from today in my head, replaying my feelings and how good I felt being on this trip that I wasn't paying attention. I tense and freeze, mentally kicking myself.

"Tilly, hey. It's okay," he steps closer to me, places his hand on my shoulder over my bra strap, "If you're comfortable, you're comfortable."

I hear him take a few steps back to his suitcase, before going into the bathroom and turning on the shower. I slip a shirt over my head, throwing my damp hair onto the top of my head and sink into the soft bed. Harry resurfaces from the bathroom a few minutes later, moving to the bed. He looks exhausted, more tired than I have ever seen him, and I'm sure he's ready to succumb to sleep at any moment.

I spread my arms, outstretched, welcoming him to the bed. He gets on the bed and wraps his arm around my torso, laying his head on my chest. My arms wrap around his shoulders, one of my hands finding his wet hair and I twirl his curls in between my fingers, feeling their softness.

"Tilly?" Harry's voice is laced with exhaustion as he speaks into my shirt. I hum out a response, closing my eyes at the sound of his raspy voice.

"Are you comfortable around me?"

I nod my head, "I am. I've never been this comfortable around anyone."

He doesn't say anything, but the feeling of his arms tightening their grip around my abdomen was enough of a response. I placed a kiss on the top of his head as I felt his breathing steady, signaling sleep had taken over him. I looked down at him, the only light shining through the room was the light of a lamp out in the yard shining a dim yellow glow into the room–more specifically–on his angelic features.

The way his unmade hair fell around his face, his curls framing his it so elegantly. The way his back rose and fell with every breath he took, his muscles tensing with every inhale and relaxing with every exhale. The way his eyelashes graze his cheek bones during his peaceful slumber. I think back to the night we were in the helicopter. How he laid on the ground with me without a question as I tried to ground myself from the remnants of my panic attack during the ride. Having looked over and seeing him on his back, eyes closed, and his eyelashes kissing the skin of his cheekbones just like they are now.

He once again was the definition and picture of peace with his arms around my back and my stomach. Harry's head on my chest, rising and falling with every steady breath I took. Looking down at him sleeping on me, in a stark change from how I felt a month ago, I felt as though he was turning me into the definition of peace along with him, instead of chaos.

No one has managed to make me feel the way he does. Safe, protected, important. And he does it without a second thought, as if it's second nature. He does it out of pure thoughtfulness, and love–and I love him for it.

God, do I love him.

masterlist chapter twenty six

#harry styles #fine line #romance #fanfic #fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles hs1 #harry's house #harry styles story #mental health #slow burn #onedirection #liampayne #louistomlinson #niallhoran #zaynmalik

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