#these guys scared the hell out of me when i was a kid | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

danysdaughter · 2 months ago

Text

After Hours

pairing | au!bucky x teacher!reader

word count | 7.8k words

summary | when bucky barnes keeps showing up early to pick up his nephew from school, it’s definitely not just about being a good uncle—it’s about the sharp, no-nonsense kindergarten teacher who won’t give him the time of day. one desperate club night and a locked bathroom later, you finally do.

tags | (18+) MDNI, unprotected sex, p in v, semi-public sex, rough sex, oral sex (f!receiving), dominant!bucky, flirty!bucky, modern au, cocky!bucky, no-nonsense!reader, slow burn to smut, mutual pining, enemies to lovers-ish, no description of reader, BUT reader does have surname (racially ambiguous as always), ABBOTT ELEMENTARY CROSSOVER (this is fanfiction so I can do whatever I want)

a/n | this is filthy you guys, based on this request, and after reading this if you haven't I beg you to watch abbott elementary, literally rewatching for the fourth time, it's everything and changed my entire personality

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

divider by @cafekitsune

“You do realize we’re ten minutes late, right?”

The voice came from the backseat—small, unimpressed, and filled with the kind of quiet disappointment usually reserved for tax season and slow Wi-Fi.

Bucky glanced at his rearview mirror and caught sight of his nephew, Danny, hair flattened oddly on one side from sleep, Superman backpack twice the size of his torso, and the most judgmental frown a five-year-old could possibly muster.

Bucky cleared his throat, shooting the kid his best reassuring grin. “Ten minutes is nothing, buddy. Trust me. Back in the day, I once showed up to basic training a whole hour late.”

Danny blinked. “Did you get yelled at?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Did you cry?”

“…No.”

Danny leaned back in his booster seat like a seasoned war general staring down a doomed campaign. “Ms. Lane’s gonna be mad.”

Bucky huffed a laugh as he pulled into the parking lot, spotting a scattering of parents still dropping kids off at the entrance. “Your teacher’s not gonna be upset you when I explain. You’re five. You’ve got diplomatic immunity.”

Danny shook his head slowly, solemnly.

“Not with me. You.”

Bucky paused mid-parallel-park, one hand still on the wheel, his brow furrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Danny didn’t answer. Just stared straight ahead at the entrance to Abbott Elementary like it was the last checkpoint before war. Like he was waiting for the music from The Godfather to start playing.

“You’ll see,” he said simply, grabbing his backpack straps like they were armor.

Bucky frowned as he helped him out of the car. “What’s with the dramatics, huh? She gonna throw a book at me?”

Danny shrugged. “She’s just… Ms. Lane.”

And with that, the kid marched ahead like a tiny soldier into the building, leaving Bucky trailing behind, wondering what the hell kind of teacher scared a kindergartner more than a DC-level supervillain.

He was about to find out.

Bucky followed Danny down the hallway, trying not to feel like he was walking into a parent-teacher trap. It smelled like crayons, wet sneakers, and disillusionment.

A cluster of teachers loitered near the front office—one of them with an armful of broken rulers, one loudly arguing with a printer, and one sipping coffee with the grace of a woman who’d already survived decades of nonsense.

He made a beeline for her. Elegant, composed, a pearl necklace that said “respect me,” and an aura of calm he hadn’t felt since his last decent nap.

“Ms. Lane?” Bucky asked, offering a smile that had gotten him out of more than one parking ticket. “Sorry for the delay, I was doing my sister a favor—her son, Danny? He’s in your class.”

The woman blinked up at him, unimpressed. He could practically hear the mental pen clicking as she filed him under Oh no, not another one.

“I am Mrs. Howard,” she said, calmly correcting Bucky like he'd just misquoted Scripture. “Ms. Lane is the other kindergarten teacher.”

Bucky opened his mouth to apologize, but she wasn’t done.

“She’s just down the hall. Room 3B.” Then came the pause. The head tilt. The look.

“Young man…” She gave him a once-over. Not flirtatious. Not judgmental. Just quietly disappointed—like he'd shown up to church in jeans.

Bucky blinked. “Yes, ma’am?”

Mrs. Howard offered a solemn shake of her head. “Good luck.”

And with that, she turned and glided off, coffee in hand, already done with his entire existence.

Bucky stood in the hallway for a second, frowning. How bad could this Ms. Lane be? What, was she going to quiz him on phonics or glare him into a coma?

The door was already open a crack, but Bucky still knocked first, because that’s what you did when walking into enemy territory.

There was no chaos. No screeching. No glue sticks flying through the air. Which was immediately suspicious for a kindergarten class.

Instead, he stepped inside to find… silence.

Twenty tiny heads bent over worksheets like they were prepping for the SATs. Crayons moved in eerie unison. No one screamed. No one licked a desk. A kid in the back raised his hand quietly—quietly—to ask if he could use the bathroom.

That was his first warning.

Because when were kindergarteners ever quiet?

Bucky hesitated in the doorway, feeling like he’d just stumbled into enemy territory. What kind of boot camp were they running in here?

Danny nudged him forward, but Bucky’s attention was already drifting to the figure at the whiteboard across the room—spine straight, skirt fitted, heels clicking as you scrawled a date across the board with clean, efficient precision. You didn’t look up. You didn’t need to.

You radiated authority from thirty feet away.

He half-expected to see gray hair, maybe glasses on a chain. Strict. Sharp. The kind of teacher whose name gets spoken in terrified whispers on playgrounds.

Then you turned around.

And Bucky’s mouth dried up instantly.

You weren’t old. You weren’t scary. You were stunning. Not just pretty—gorgeous. The kind of beautiful that hits you like a left hook. And you didn’t smile when you saw him. Of course you didn’t.

You just turned, one brow raised, assessing him like a problem you were deciding whether to fix or eliminate.

Bucky cleared his throat, defaulting to his most practiced, most lethal move: the smile. The one that had gotten him out of bar fights, jury duty, and once, weirdly, an IKEA return policy.

“Hi. Sorry—I’m Bucky Barnes,” he said, stepping inside. “Danny’s uncle. Rebecca asked me to drop him off today. It’s my first time—”

“Kids are supposed to be in class by eight,” you interrupted, voice calm, level, and sharp enough to slice drywall. “It’s eight fifteen.”

Right. Okay.

The smile faltered just a fraction.

You crossed your arms, waiting, watching him like you were unimpressed by his entire bloodline.

Danny, standing a little behind Bucky now, mumbled, “Told you so.”

Bucky sighed and shot him a look before stepping forward a bit, trying again with a little more Sergeant, a little less smug.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, holding onto the edge of that smile. “That’s on me. My sister got called in early, and I didn’t realize traffic near the school was… a situation.” He gave a little shrug, trying to soften the blow. “It’s only fifteen minutes.”

One kid—front row, bowl cut, way too invested—visibly winced for him as you took a step closer to him. Bucky barely caught the movement before he felt the weight of your stare.

“Danny,” you said, never breaking eye contact with Bucky, “you can go take your seat.”

Danny didn’t hesitate. He made a beeline for his desk like he was escaping a hostage situation, never once glancing back at his uncle.

You turned your full attention on Bucky then, your eyes sweeping him head to toe in a single motion so dry, so thoroughly unimpressed, it made his spine straighten instinctively.

“Fifteen minutes,” you said, voice still perfectly pleasant, ��is long enough for a child to lose their morning routine. It’s long enough to miss foundational learning, to feel behind before they’ve even started the day. It’s long enough to build a habit of dismissing responsibility.”

Bucky opened his mouth.

You didn’t stop.

“Fifteen minutes late to school turns into fifteen minutes late to interviews. Fifteen minutes late to jobs. Fifteen minutes late to life. That might not seem like much to you, Mr. Barnes, but to a five-year-old trying to learn structure in an unpredictable world? It matters.”

A low “oooh” rippled through the class like someone had just witnessed a verbal assassination.

You turned your head—just slightly—and every single one of them went silent like a switch had been flipped.

Then you turned back to Bucky with a smile so polished it might’ve passed for genuine, if not for the gleam in your eye that said this isn’t over, and you will remember me.

“Have a good day, Mr. Barnes.”

He blinked. “I—”

“Have a good day, Mr. Barnes.”

His mouth shut. His posture shifted. He nodded, respectful this time. “Of course.”

You turned back to the whiteboard without another word, already moving on like he was just a bump in your perfectly structured morning.

As Bucky stepped out of the classroom, he glanced back over his shoulder one last time.

The kids were still silent.

You were still terrifying.

And now?

You were stuck in his head.

From then on, Bucky made a small but strategic adjustment to his week.

He got Rebecca to agree—grudgingly, at first—to let him handle school drop-off twice a week and pick-up three times. It was about being involved. Showing up. Being a solid, male figure in Danny’s life. A steady one. That’s what he told himself. And his sister.

And sure, maybe it was also because Danny’s kindergarten teacher was the most infuriatingly magnetic person Bucky had ever met.

Ms. Lane.

You.

Every time he stepped into that classroom—on time, now, thank you very much—you were there. Clipboard in hand, spine like steel, eyes that didn’t blink when he smiled at you like he’d invented it.

You never giggled. Never blushed. Never let him get so much as a twitch of a lip curl when he dropped a line like, “Careful, you keep looking at me like that and people are gonna think we’re in a PTA scandal.”

Nothing.

You’d just stare at him, arch a brow, and hand him a paper that said ‘Parent Reading Night RSVP – Required.’

At one point, he was pretty sure you gave Janine more reaction for sneezing glitter.

And the worst part?

The kids loved you. Danny adored you. Sure, you also partially terrified them all, but you had their respect. Which meant Bucky couldn’t even pretend to resent the way you owned every room you walked into. He just had to lean in, play along, keep showing up, and try not to let it get to him when you ended every conversation with a clinical “Have a good day, Mr. Barnes,” like he was some stranger in a waiting room.

So he tried harder.

He wore better jackets.

When Becs didn't have the time, he made Danny’s lunches look like they were packed by Pinterest moms.

He learned all the traffic patterns around Abbott to avoid being even one minute late.

He even tried calling you “Ms. Lane” in that flirty voice he’d once used on girls outside jazz clubs in Brooklyn.

You looked up from your lesson plans, dead-eyed, and said, “Are you choking, or is that how you normally talk?”

You were unshakable.

Immovable.

He was in hell.

Beautiful, dry, completely-uninterested-in-him hell.

And he couldn’t stop coming back.

The door creaked open just as you were nodding along to whatever Janine was rambling about—something involving manifesting healthy communication with her plants or possibly something about moon phases and exes.

You barely suppressed a sigh. You liked Janine in small doses. She was enthusiastic. Kind. Chronically incapable of taking a hint. And lately, she’d made it her personal mission to turn your life into a rom-com, complete with imaginary “will-they-won’t-they” tension and way too much commentary.

“See, what I’m saying is, if he keeps showing up early, that’s basically a love confession. And if you weren’t so emotionally repressed—”

The door opened and he walked in.

Bucky Barnes strolled into your classroom like he owned a portion of the lease. Jacket unzipped, sleeves rolled, hair an intentional mess. He gave Janine a familiar nod and then locked his gaze on you like he always did—like you were the only person in the room.

He smiled. That easy, smirky, I-know-you-hate-this-but-maybe-you-don’t kind of smile.

“Ladies,” he greeted smoothly. “Miss Teagues. Ms. Lane.”

You didn’t look up from your clipboard. “You’re early.”

“Yeah, figured I’d show up before the bell, for once.” He leaned against the edge of a desk, far too casual. “I hear being punctual really impresses a certain someone.”

You deadpanned, “My class is in the library for story time. They won’t be back for another twenty minutes.”

He grinned. “Guess I’ll just have to entertain myself then.”

“God, you two are so adorable,” Janine burst out, hands clasped like she’d just walked in on a Hallmark movie climax. “The way you flirt—so classic enemies to lovers. It’s giving Pride and Prejudice. But like, modern. And in a school.”

You didn’t even blink.

“Janine. Leave.”

You looked at her. Just looked. One long, unimpressed, soul-shearing glance.

“Right. Right, right, right,” she mumbled, fumbling for her tote bag. “I have… bulletin board stuff. Laminating. Paper… science.”

She took two steps backward, then paused, giving Bucky the most exaggerated wink a human could physically perform.

You didn’t react. You were too tired.

She nodded like she was passing the torch of your romantic destiny and literally backed out of the classroom like Homer Simpson into a hedge.

The door clicked shut.

Bucky exhaled dramatically, like he’d just survived a natural disaster. “She’s like a human glitter bomb. No warning. No escape.”

You didn’t look up from your clipboard. “She’s enthusiastic. It’s exhausting.”

He chuckled, low and knowing. “So I guess that means I’m not your type either.”

“You’re not glittery.”

“Oh, come on,” he said, stepping closer, that damn smile still lingering at the corners of his mouth. “I sparkle a little.”

You glanced at him then—slowly, flatly.

“You always this persistent?” you asked, voice dry as ever.

He tilted his head, hands sliding into his jacket pockets like he had all the time in the world. “You always this impossible to impress?”

You shrugged, tapping your pen once against the clipboard before setting it down. “Only with people who try this hard.”

He gave a low whistle, grinning like you’d just scored a point in a game he didn’t mind losing. “Damn, but I bet if I said I was here for the stimulating curriculum and not to see you, you'd kick me out.”

“I’d consider it,” you said coolly. “But I’m invested in Danny’s education.”

“Ouch.”

He stepped a little closer again, but not too close. Like he was testing a line with his toe, just to see if you’d swat him back or finally step over it yourself.

“I ever make you laugh, Ms. Lane?” he asked, real curiosity under the velvet of the question.

You raised an eyebrow. “Do you want a sticker if you do?”

His grin turned into something a little rougher. “I’d rather earn one of those gold stars I see on your discipline chart.”

You didn’t smile. Not quite. But there was a flicker in your eyes he caught anyway, and his grin deepened like he’d won something.

You turned back to your desk, flipping a folder open without looking at him again.

“You know,” he said, glancing around your empty classroom, “this is the quietest I’ve ever seen it. Kind of eerie. I was starting to think the kids were fake—like one of those training simulations.”

You gave a low, unimpressed hum. “If they were fake, they wouldn’t sneeze directly into my coffee when I’m not looking.”

He chuckled, eyeing your desk. “Is that why you’ve got three different mugs over there? Just in case?”

You didn't respond. But the faint upward curve of your mouth—blink-and-miss-it—was the closest he’d gotten to a laugh since the first day he met you.

It made something curl low in his stomach.

“I know I keep saying this, but I’m not just here to bug you,” Bucky said after a beat, his voice edging toward sincere despite the grin still playing at his mouth. “Danny likes it when I pick him up. Says it makes him feel cool when I show up.”

You looked up, just slightly. “He does like showing you off.”

Bucky’s smile softened, just a little. “Kid’s got good taste.”

Then his eyes slid back to you, the cocky glint returning. “Speaking of good taste—what are the odds I could convince you to grab coffee sometime?”

You gave him a long, slow blink. Not mean. Just… devastatingly neutral.

He added, “I’ll be on time. And I promise not to flirt with the barista.”

You opened your mouth—possibly to respond, possibly to destroy him—but before a single word could land, the bell rang.

Shrill. Loud. Unforgiving.

You sighed like the universe had interrupted you on purpose.

“Danny’ll be waiting for you outside the library,” you said, already picking up the clipboard again like this was over and done. “Probably trying to con the librarian into letting him borrow another comic book.”

Bucky hesitated. “So… is that a maybe on the coffee?”

You didn’t even look up. “It’s a ‘your nephew’s in the library.’”

He grinned, slow and crooked. “I’ll take that as a soft yes.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Take it however you want, Barnes. Just go get your kid.”

He turned toward the door, still smiling, still smug—but quieter now. And before stepping out, he glanced back one more time.

You were already back to your paperwork.

But you hadn’t said no.

Bucky was still smirking to himself as he stepped out of your classroom and into the hallway—clearly riding high off your non-answer like it was a personal victory.

And, as luck would have it, he walked directly into Principal Ava Coleman’s path.

She had sunglasses on indoors and a folder she clearly hadn’t opened all week tucked under one arm.

“Good afternoon,” he said politely, offering her a nod and a half-smile.

Ava turned so fast it was like she’d been waiting for this exact moment. “Oh it is now,” she said, eyes raking over him so blatantly Bucky actually paused mid-step.

She watched him until he rounded the corner, then turned on a heel and bee-lined straight for your classroom, heels clicking like trouble.

She leaned into your doorway with no regard for your personal space or your peace of mind.

You didn’t even look up as she strolled through your door, “Girl.”

You kept sorting worksheets. “Ava.”

She gave you a look like she just walked in on free tickets to a concert and front-row seats.

“Now that is the finest white man I’ve seen this whole year,” she said, plopping down into one of the tiny student chairs with zero grace and maximum chaos.

You glanced up, deadpan. “It’s March.”

Ava rolled her eyes. “I meant school year. Don’t try and be smart with me.”

You arched a brow. “Wasn’t trying.”

She pointed a perfectly manicured nail toward the door. “You better quit playing with that man’s heart before I mess around and pull rank.”

You blinked once. “I’m not playing with anything.”

Ava smirked. “Girl, please. You’ve got him showing up early on purpose. That man’s in here more than Gregory and he actually works here.”

You didn’t respond right away. Just gathered your things slowly, expression unreadable.

Then: “He’s annoying.”

Ava stood, smooth as silk. “Mm-hm. And yet he’s got you so annoyed you keep your lipstick fresh after lunch.”

You glanced at her, unimpressed.

“I’m just saying,” Ava continued, striding around the room like she owned it (she technically did, unfortunately), “if you don’t take him, I will. That man is gonna give me some fine, emotionally stable mixed babies.”

You looked at her. Just looked. Slightly disgusted, mostly exhausted.

“Ava. Seriously?”

“What?” she asked, clearly unbothered. “You’re the one over here acting like you don’t notice. Always so uptight, hair all sleeked back like you’re about to defend someone in court. Girl, this is a school.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Ava, what do you want?”

“I’m going out tonight,” she said, waving a perfectly manicured hand like this was some kind of decree. “Clubbing. Drinks. Vibes. You’re coming.”

You didn’t even flinch. “Absolutely not.”

She pointed. “You’re coming.”

“No.”

“I’m your boss. You’re forced to. It’s in your contract.”

“It’s really not.”

“Also,” she added, shrugging, “you’re the closest thing to an equal I’ve got in this place. So you’re coming for moral support.”

You finally looked up, full eye contact. “Ava. No.”

She pointed at you. “Nine o’clock. I’m texting you the address. Now go home, let your hair down and let your scalp breathe for once. Wear something that says ‘I’m open to bad decisions.’ Not ‘I’m about to read you your Miranda rights.’”

You opened your mouth to decline again, but she was already halfway down the hall, yelling something about “energy healing” and “pre-gaming with affirmations.”

You sighed.

Loudly.

“You gotta stop lookin’ like someone stole your dog,” Sam said, nudging his shoulder as they walked toward the club entrance. “You’re killin’ the vibe.”

Bucky shot him a look. “You dragged me out.”

“I’m saving your sad, one-woman-man life,” Sam said. “You need to remember other women exist, Buck. The world’s bigger than that kindergarten teacher who makes you sweat like you’re back in basic.”

Bucky sighed, scanning the line outside the club. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Nope.” Sam clapped him on the back. “C’mon. Maybe the actual girl of your dreams is in here.”

“Already found her.”

“You are so damn whipped, man,” Sam muttered.

Inside, the club was all neon glow and bass-heavy music. The air pulsed with energy and cheap cologne. Bucky kept his hands in his jacket pockets, jaw tense as Sam tried to steer him toward the bar.

And then he saw you.

You were standing near a tall cocktail table, back to him, dress hugging every curve like it was tailored by sin itself. That deep burgundy color against your skin, the sheer lace sleeves, the neckline that made his mouth go dry—fuck.

It was like the air got sucked right out of the building.

He stopped walking. Just… stopped.

Sam bumped into him. “What? Don’t tell me you already gave up—”

Bucky lifted a hand, pointing without looking away. “That’s her.”

Sam followed his gaze. “That’s Ms. Lane?”

Bucky nodded, dumbfounded. “Yeah.”

“She teaches kindergarten?”

“Yeah.”

Sam stared a moment longer. “I’ve never wanted to re-enroll in school so bad in my life.”

Bucky’s jaw worked. You hadn’t noticed him yet. You were talking to someone—smiling, even, which was a rare enough sight that it nearly took him out.

Then he saw who was beside you.

“Oh. Ava’s here too.”

Sam turned. “Who’s Ava?”

“The principal.”

Sam blinked. “You’re telling me the tall one with the long hair and wearing that is the principal?”

“Yep.”

“I’m calling Sarah,” Sam said, already reaching for his phone. “We’re transferring my nephews.”

Bucky didn’t respond. His eyes were locked on you—his teacher, his girl, his quiet obsession—laughing in a club with a dress that made his palms sweat. All those weeks of buttoned-up shirts and sarcastic dismissals, and now here you were, looking like a damn vision.

Sam nudged him. “You gonna stand there drooling or go say something?”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I think I’m in love.”

Sam rolled his eyes hard. “God, you’re so dramatic.”

But Bucky didn’t hear him. You’d turned just enough for your eyes to start sweeping the room, and the moment you looked in his direction—

He knew you saw him.

And he knew everything was about to change.

The club pulsed around you—sweaty, crowded, way too loud—and you were already regretting everything.

You weren’t the kind of woman who went out on Friday nights. You were the kind who wrote parent emails about glitter-related injuries and kept a drawer full of emergency dry-erase markers.

The kind who dodged PTA moms like landmines and maintained a firm no-nonsense reputation because the moment you didn’t, someone’s child would be climbing the bookshelf like it was Everest.

But here you were. Burgundy dress, heels too high, lip gloss too shiny, sipping on a drink that tasted vaguely like regret and melted candy.

Ava was beaming beside you, obviously thriving. “Now this is what I’m talking about,” she said, swaying to the music. “You, me, outfits that should be illegal. This is the energy we need.”

You took a sip, trying not to look like you wanted to crawl out of your own skin. “I already want to go home.”

“You always want to go home. You're, like, emotionally married to your couch.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but then Ava froze—gasped like someone had pulled the fire alarm—and grabbed your arm with enough force to startle you.

“Girl. Girl. You will not believe who just walked in right now.”

You frowned, confused. “What—”

“Look.”

You followed her eye line. The club suddenly felt ten degrees hotter.

Bucky Barnes stood at the entrance, taller than anyone else around him, leather jacket open over a dark henley, hair tousled, mouth set in that stupid half-smirk like he knew he didn’t belong there and didn’t care. His blue eyes scanned the crowd like he was looking for someone.

And then they landed on you.

Oh no.

No.

“This is not happening right now,” you muttered, nearly tripping over your own words. “I have got to get out of here.”

You turned, already strategizing your exit route, but Ava threw an arm out in front of you like she was stopping traffic.

“Girl, forget you. Look at that man’s fine ass friend.”

You blinked, turning your head just enough to catch him—Bucky’s friend. Broad shoulders. Clean-cut. Smiling already like he knew how this worked. His eyes were on Ava like she was a problem he was already planning to solve.

“Hell yes,” Ava said. “That’s my man. Manifested. Claimed.”

You were too busy trying to make your brain reboot. Because Bucky was still watching you. He hadn’t looked away once. Like you were the only person in the club. His mouth curved slightly. Not cocky. Not playful. Just… locked in. Sure.

And damn him—you felt it. That same heat in your chest you pretended didn’t exist every time he came to pick up Danny. Except now, there was no desk between you. No escape.

And then, the inevitable.

The two pairs drifted toward each other. Like planets colliding. Like destiny had a sick sense of humor.

It was Ava who broke the silence first.

“Hi,” she said to Bucky’s friend, offering a hand like she expected it to be kissed. “Ava Coleman. Principal. Administrator. Visionary. And I know you’re about to buy me a drink.”

Sam blinked once, clearly amused. “Sam Wilson. Nice to meet you, Ms. Visionary.”

“Mmhm. I know.” Ava looped her arm through his like it was nothing. “Let’s go, future Mr. Coleman.”

You turned, shocked. “Ava—”

She didn’t even glance back. “You’re on your own, counselor. Don’t mess this up.”

And with that, she strutted away with Sam trailing behind her, clearly both confused and deeply invested.

You turned back to find Bucky still standing there.

Still watching you.

And now it was just the two of you.

No classroom.

No clipboard.

No rules.

Just you. And him. And the truth you’d been ignoring.

He smiled.

And you suddenly couldn’t remember a single reason why you ever told yourself he wasn’t dangerous.

Bucky stood there for a second longer, drinking you in.

The lace sleeves. The curve of your waist. The neckline that made his brain stop working for a solid five seconds. It wasn’t just the dress—it was you in it. Out of your usual uniform. Out of your guarded shell. Still composed, but softer somehow. Looser.

“You look—” he started, voice low.

“Hot?” you cut in, arching an eyebrow, mouth twitching just enough to betray your awareness.

He laughed, quiet, head tipping slightly. “I was gonna say amazing. But hot works too.”

You rolled your eyes and took a slow sip of your drink to hide the way your pulse jumped.

Bucky stepped closer, just enough to speak without raising his voice. “I didn’t think you went to places like this.”

“I don’t. Ava dragged me.”

You glanced past him, where Ava was already leaned over the bar with Sam looking both impressed and slightly alarmed.

“And now she’s dragging him,” you murmured.

Bucky followed your gaze and let out a soft chuckle. “Should we check on them?”

“No,” you said instantly. “Let natural selection take its course.”

He grinned again—less smug this time. Quieter. More real. The kind of smile that said he’d missed seeing you. The kind that made your breath catch a little deeper than you wanted to admit.

You took another sip, letting the pause stretch, then tilted your head at him.

The music pounded around you. People brushed past. The lights shifted.

But it felt like everything stilled between you and him.

“I thought maybe, outside the classroom... you’d stop pretending I’m not getting to you.”

Your grip on your drink tightened slightly.

You didn’t look away.

You should have.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you held his gaze like it was a contest. Like you were daring him to blink first. Your chin stayed lifted, eyes steady, but something behind them flickered—just for a second.

Bucky saw it. That crack in your wall. And God help him, it made his pulse jackhammer in his throat.

You tilted your head slightly, that same biting calm in your voice. “You really think you’re getting to me?”

He stepped in closer, slow, careful—not touching you, but close enough that the heat rolled off him like static. “No,” he said. “I know I am.”

Your throat worked on a swallow you tried to hide, but Bucky clocked it.

You were still composed. Still wrapped in that hard-earned edge of professionalism, like even now, in heels and lace, you could throw a behavioral chart at him and end the whole thing.

But your body betrayed you.

The shift of your weight. The way your breath hitched when he looked at your mouth.

You didn’t push him away.

“You always this arrogant?” you asked, voice like silk-wrapped steel.

“Only when I’m right.”

You opened your mouth, probably to put him in his place again—but then the music shifted, a heavy, pulsing bass dropping in from the DJ booth. A sea of people moved on the dance floor, but the space between you and him felt small. Pressurized.

His eyes dipped to your lips, then back up.

“Dance with me,” he said.

You blinked. “What?”

His smirk curled slowly. “You heard me.”

You scoffed, already shaking your head. “I don’t dance.”

“Sure you do. You just don’t want to with me.”

“Accurate.”

“But you will.” He leaned in, voice brushing the shell of your ear now. “Because I’m asking. And because for once, I don’t think you want to walk away.”

You hated how that made your stomach flip. Hated it even more when he held out a hand—not cocky, not smug. Just… waiting.

You stared at it.

Then at him.

Then, slowly, you slid your hand into his.

And that was all he needed.

Big win. Massive win.

He tugged you gently into the swell of bodies, his hand warm against yours, his other settling lightly on your waist. And when he pulled you close—closer than you’d ever let him stand before—you didn’t pull back.

You danced.

At first, stiff. Calculated. Like you were trying to make it not mean something.

But Bucky? He knew how to move. Knew how to guide without pushing, how to lean in just enough to make your head spin. Every time your hips brushed, every time his hand slipped an inch lower on your back, you felt it in your knees.

You hated him for being good at this.

You hated yourself more for liking it.

And when his lips brushed your ear again, breath hot and voice low, you barely heard the words over the music:

“Just admit it.”

You swallowed, refusing to answer.

He smiled against your skin.

He already knew.

You didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

Because something inside you snapped the second his breath touched your neck. And the next thing you knew, your fingers were gripping his wrist, dragging him behind you through the crowd with single-minded purpose. Not speaking. Not thinking. Just moving.

Bucky didn’t ask where you were going.

Didn’t need to.

He followed like a man being led to his own damn salvation.

You found the restroom near the back—single occupancy, thank God—and yanked the door open, pulling him in after you. The lock clicked behind you just as his mouth crashed into yours.

It wasn’t gentle.

There was no space for that anymore.

You kissed like you’d been waiting weeks to do it—months actually. All teeth and tongue and heat, his hands gripping your waist like he still couldn’t believe you were real. You pressed him back against the wall, palms flat on his chest, lips dragging along his jaw, biting at the curve of his neck just to feel him shudder.

His hands roamed—your waist, your hips, sliding lower, greedy, hungry, completely unrestrained. His mouth returned to yours, catching your gasp mid-kiss as he backed you against the sink now, one hand curling around the back of your neck, the other on your thigh, tugging it up around his waist.

“You sure?” he murmured against your mouth, breath ragged.

You answered by dragging his lower lip between your teeth.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

He kissed you harder.

Sloppier.

Desperate.

The kind of kiss that said he didn’t care about the lipstick smudging or the way your dress rode up or how his belt buckle knocked against the porcelain edge of the sink. It was all teeth and moans and hands gripping too tight.

Your fingers slid under his jacket, then his shirt, pushing it up, needing to feel skin—hot, firm, real. You ran your nails over his stomach and he groaned like it physically hurt to be touched that way.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” he panted.

You gripped his belt, pulling his hips flush to yours. “You’ve got a pretty good idea what you’re doing to me too.”

He looked down at you like he was already wrecked—and still starving.

Like this wasn’t enough.

Like it was never going to be enough.

Then suddenly Bucky let out a breathless laugh, eyes darting around the cramped bathroom as he made sure to lock the door behind you. “In here? Really?”

You smirked, stepping backward until your back met the cool tile wall, the sink brushing your hip. “What?” you said, voice teasing, eyes locked on his. “You’ve never fucked in a public bathroom before?”

He tilted his head, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Have you?”

You shrugged, that slow, calculated way that always made him insane. “First time for everything.”

He stared at you for a beat, eyes dark and full of heat—then moved.

He was on you in a flash, hands braced on either side of your head, mouth finding yours again in a kiss that tasted like restraint snapping in half. It was messy, all tongue and teeth, lips crashing together.

Your hands threaded into his hair, tugging, nails scraping against his scalp as he kissed you harder, deeper, needier. His body pressed into yours, firm and unrelenting, and you gasped when you felt the hard line of his cock against your thigh.

Then he dropped.

Literally—dropped to his knees, palms dragging down your sides with reverence and greed.

“Bucky—”

“Shh,” he murmured, voice rough as his eyes flicked up to meet yours. “Let me.”

His hands pushed your dress up slowly, worshipfully, bunching the burgundy fabric around your hips. He hooked a finger into your panties, pulled them to the side, and let out a soft, guttural groan.

“Jesus Christ…”

Then he dove in.

His mouth pressed against your cunt like he was starving, tongue parting your folds with a groan that vibrated against you. You cried out—soft, sharp—your hands flying to his hair again as he started to lick, slow and purposeful. Long, wet strokes that made your knees go weak.

One hand clutched the sink for balance, the other fisted in his hair as he sucked your clit into his mouth, groaning like you were the best thing he’d ever tasted.

You bit your lip to keep quiet—pointless, really. Your hips bucked against his face and he held you there, arms locking around your thighs, face buried between your legs like he had no intention of coming up for air.

“You taste so fucking good,” he growled, voice muffled as he licked deeper, tongue fucking into you before circling your clit again with maddening precision. “Been thinking about this since the first day I saw you.”

You choked on a gasp, head tipping back, the edge already building—too fast, too strong.

And he wasn’t stopping.

Not for anything.

Your grip tightened in his hair as Bucky’s tongue dragged a slow, torturous circle around your clit, only to suck it between his lips with a low, obscene groan that vibrated through your entire body.

“Fuck—” you gasped, breath hitching as your thighs threatened to close around his head.

He wasn’t having it.

His left hand braced against your hip, holding you open, steady, while his right slid up your thigh—palm rough, fingers sure—until he reached your slit. One thick finger slipped inside, slow, dragging along your walls as he moaned like he felt it too.

“You’re so tight,” he breathed against your cunt. “So wet for me. This pretty pussy’s been waiting for me, huh?”

You shuddered, jaw slack, hips rolling down onto his face and hand like your body knew exactly what it needed. He pumped the finger slowly, deliberately, curling just right to make your knees buckle. Then he added a second—stretching you, filling you—and the heat in your belly twisted hard.

“Oh my god—Bucky—”

“That’s it,” he murmured, eyes flicking up to watch your face as his fingers curled deep inside you. “Let me hear you, baby.”

His mouth returned to your clit, licking in messy, desperate circles while his fingers fucked into you faster—his rhythm syncing perfectly with your shaking body. Every thrust hit that spot inside you with aching precision, your thighs trembling as your moans broke free.

You weren’t composed now.

You weren’t silent.

You were his, unraveling in his mouth, pulsing around his fingers, the world narrowing to the slick sounds of your body and the obscene groans he made as he devoured you like it was his last meal.

“I could do this all night,” he panted, fingers curling hard as your hips jerked. “You gonna come for me? Gonna soak my fuckin’ fingers?”

You couldn’t even form words—only nod, only whimper, only clutch at his hair and the edge of the sink like you might float away if you let go.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he growled, tongue flicking your clit fast and filthy now, fingers pounding into you. “Come on my face.”

Your body clenched, the pressure snapping like a whip crack—your orgasm crashing over you so hard you cried out, hips shaking, thighs locked tight around his head. He groaned, licking you through it, fingers still working you until you were whining, pushing weakly at his shoulder.

He finally pulled back, mouth and chin glistening, chest heaving.

He looked wrecked.

And proud.

Bucky stood, chest rising hard, his jaw clenched like he was fighting off every urge he’d ever had. His mouth was slick with you, his fingers still glistening, and he looked down at you like you were the only thing tethering him to sanity.

Then he cursed.

“Shit—” he growled, hand dragging down his face. “I don't have a condom.”

You blinked, still breathless, still shaking.

Then you reached for his belt.

You pulled him close with both hands, grabbed his face, and kissed him hard—tongue sweeping into his mouth, tasting yourself all over him.

He groaned, loud and broken, his hands flying to your waist, gripping tight.

“I’m on birth control,” you panted against his lips. “It’s fine.”

He froze for half a second.

Then everything snapped.

He spun you around, bent you over the sink, and shoved your dress up around your waist again with a growl that sounded like it was ripped from his chest.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted this,” he muttered, dragging his pants down just enough to free himself—his cock hard, thick, flushed at the tip.

You looked at him over your shoulder, eyes dark, daring. “Then take it.”

He didn’t hesitate.

He grabbed your hip with one hand, the other guiding himself to your soaked entrance. He groaned when he felt how wet you still were, and then he thrust in—hard, deep, one sharp movement that made both of you cry out.

“Jesus—” he bit out, buried to the hilt inside you.

You gasped, your hands bracing against the sink, your head dropping between your arms as he pulled back and slammed into you again, rougher this time, like all the control he’d been clinging to shattered in one thrust.

His grip on your hips was bruising.

His rhythm? Relentless.

“Look at you,” he gritted, hips snapping into you again and again, cock dragging perfectly over your walls. “All that attitude. All that sass. And now you’re fucking dripping for me.”

You moaned, arching your back, pushing back onto him. “Shut up and fuck me.”

That did it.

He pounded into you, deep and rough, grunting with every thrust, each one sharper than the last. Your hands scrambled for grip, one of your heels slipping as he rutted into you like he was trying to claim you, pull every sound out of your throat that you’d refused to give him in daylight.

“Been thinking about this since the first time you called me Barnes like it was a threat,” he growled, one hand fisting in your hair to pull your head back. “And now you’re letting me fuck you in a goddamn club bathroom?”

You gasped, eyes fluttering. “Shut up.”

He fucked you harder.

“You love this,” he growled in your ear. “You love the way I feel inside you. Admit it.”

Your nails scraped the porcelain.

He yanked you upright against his chest, his cock still buried inside you, pounding you with punishing, perfect rhythm.

“Say it,” he demanded, voice ragged. “Say you wanted this.”

You moaned, nearly sobbed. “I—fuck—I wanted this—”

He groaned, low and guttural, lips dragging over your shoulder and hand drifting to your neck.

His hand on your throat wasn’t choking—just holding. Just claiming. His mouth was at your ear, breath hot, voice wrecked. You were bent over the sink but upright now, your chest flush to his, and your eyes—

He made sure they were on the mirror.

“Look,” Bucky growled, fucking into you hard enough to make the sink creak. “Look what I’m doing to you.”

Your gaze caught the reflection—and fuck, it was obscene. Your lips parted, cheeks flushed, sweat-damp hair clinging to your temples. His broad chest against your back, one hand gripping your hip, the other still around your throat like he was holding you steady so you couldn’t escape how good it felt.

Every thrust slammed into you from behind, deep and fast, his cock stretching you wide, hitting that perfect spot over and over until your legs were shaking.

You whimpered, unable to hold back anymore.

“That’s it,” he rasped. “Let me hear you. No classroom. No clipboard. Just you. And me.”

Your head tipped back onto his shoulder as his thrusts grew rougher, deeper, fucking you in front of the mirror like he wanted you to remember this—to see exactly what he turned you into.

“I can feel you squeezing me,” he panted. “So fuckin’ tight. You gonna come for me?”

You moaned, body tensing, orgasm coiling hard in your belly, your thighs trembling, the pressure too much.

His fingers moved down your stomach, finding your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles as he slammed into you.

“Come for me,” he growled into your ear. “Come on my cock. Let me feel it.”

You shattered.

It was sharp, messy, loud—your cry bouncing off the bathroom walls as your pussy clenched around him, body locking up, hips jerking uncontrollably. You came so hard you saw white, barely able to hold yourself up as your orgasm rolled over you in crashing waves.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Bucky grunted, and then he lost it.

His rhythm stuttered, a broken gasp tearing from his throat as he buried himself deep one last time and came inside you, hips jerking, breath ragged against your neck.

He held you tight, forehead pressed to your shoulder, still inside you, both of you shaking and panting, sweat-slicked and spent.

The mirror caught everything.

Two people undone.

Two people who couldn’t take it back.

And neither of you wanted to.

The room was quiet now, save for your breathing and the soft hum of music bleeding through the walls.

You blinked slowly at the mirror, still bent over the sink, your hair mussed, dress bunched around your hips, Bucky’s body heavy and warm behind you. He was still buried inside you, both of you barely recovered.

He exhaled, lips brushing your shoulder, then your neck. “Well, damn.”

You let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh if you weren’t still coming down from the best orgasm of your life.

He finally pulled out with a low groan, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he did, and then helped smooth your dress back down over your thighs. His touch lingered just a second too long, like he wasn’t ready to let go of you just yet.

You straightened, turned slowly to face him, your expression mostly neutral—but your eyes were warmer than before. He saw it. He always did.

Bucky leaned back against the sink beside you, tucking himself back into his jeans with practiced ease, still watching you with that lazy post-orgasm smirk.

“So,” he said, running a hand through his hair, still slightly breathless. “Now that we’ve gotten the hard part out of the way…”

You arched a brow, lips twitching. “That was the hard part?”

He grinned. “Figuratively. And literally.”

You rolled your eyes, turning to check yourself in the mirror. Your lipstick was gone. Your cheeks were flushed. Your neck had the faint outline of his stubble. You looked exactly how you felt: fucked out and dangerously close to letting him in.

You dabbed at your collarbone with a paper towel.

He watched you quietly for a second, then said, softer now, “Come on, baby. Just one date.”

You froze.

He didn’t miss it.

“One date,” he said again, stepping a little closer, voice still low. “Not the club. Not the classroom. Just you and me. Dinner. Or drinks. Hell, coffee if that’s all I get.”

You looked at him, really looked.

He was flushed, eyes bright, hopeful in a way he hadn’t been in weeks. There was something real behind that smirk now. Something open. Unprotected.

You should’ve shut him down.

Should’ve said something cold. Dismissive.

But instead, you leaned in—kissed him, slow this time, less teeth, more tongue. Just a whisper of what could happen again if you said yes.

When you pulled back, your lips barely brushed his.

“You’re gonna regret asking me out, Mr. Barnes.”

He grinned.

“Not a chance, Ms. Lane.”

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky barnes fluff #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes smut #james bucky buchanan barnes

4K notes · View notes

lewsedici · 2 months ago

Text

no ouai | oscar piastri x norris! fem! reader

summary; in which a paparazzi photo of oscar at a beauty store leads to one thing to another

fc; sunday kalogaras

warnings;cursing

note; i need to go down the f1 fic rabbit hole again bc ive only been reading isack and lewis fics so idk what anyone is doing here 😭

masterlist !

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

liked by lando, iamrebeccad, and others!

ynnorris: frizz free hair routine perf for the hot summer out now on tiktok my loves 💗💗

user1: omg FINALLY

user2: my curls will thank u

user3: do i have curly hair? no. will i still watch y/n’s hair routine? yes.

lando: idk i just put water in it and call it a day

ynnorris: yeah i can tell

landonorris: don’t be so RUDE.

ynnorris: like u weren’t worse when we were kids 🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

user4: i wanna be u so bad

user5: guys what if oscar bought the hair products for y/n

user6: girl???

user7: finally i’ve been looking for a routine for definition 😭🙏 thank u queen y/n

iamrebeccad: my curly haired baby🩷

ynnorris: i miss u pls let’s hang out soon🙁

lewishamilton: we love the natural hair era

ynnorris: yes unc exactly

user8: is y/n teaching lewis this lakaoakxos

user9: user8 uncle and niece duo fr

alexandrasaintmleux: literal angel hair 🪽

ynnorris: ily🙁

user10: THANKS Y/NNBN

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

loading comments…

user11: anyone notice her slip up??

user12: her saying os? yes. yes we did

user13: BOYFRIEND????

user14: omg i have all of these i’m gonna try rn

user15: diffusing heat settings??

ynnorris: i usually stay w medium heat high speed!!!

user16: unbothered queen

user17: mentioned boyfriend… said os…. oscar piastri spotted at a beauty supply store… hm…

user18: DID YALL SEE THAT??😭😭😭

user19: see what???

user18: istg i saw a man sitting in the corner for a split second at 0:52

user20: I SAW IT TOO

user21: maybe it’s lando???

user22: no lando was spotted in monaco earlier today, y/n is at her home in london… and guess who else is in london👀👀👀👀👀

user23: WAITTTTT A DAMN MINUTE

iamrebeccad12: 😍😍😍

user24: queue all the curly girl influencers trying y/n’s hair routineeeee

user25: miss norris…. what did u say

alexandrasaintmleux: 💗💗

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚ ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

liked by oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux, and others !

ynnorris: omg no ouai

tagged; oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri: it was ouidad actually that got me caught

ynnorris: whatever whatever i needed it

oscarpiastri: i love u

ynnorris: i love uuuuu

user26: I KNEW ITTTT

user27: omg ???

lando: huh

lando: oh

lando: wha

lando: what.

lando: WHAT.

ynnorris: i sent u a funny tiktok abt a ferret can u pls go watch it it’s so funny

user28: she kills me😭😭

user29: she really dgaf and i respect it

lando: Y/N NORRIS WHAT IS THIS???

ynnorris: hard launch

lando: oh you’re so dead oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri: you don’t scare me ?????

lando: what the HELL

ynnorris: ok ur being a drama queen now

lando: my BABY SISTER is dating my TEAMMATE?????

ynnorris: and???

lando: omg ???

user30: this lando headloss is cinema

alexandrasaintmleux: hard launch me next??

ynnorris: u got it baby

charles_leclerc: woah woah woah

oscarpiastri: ?

user31: AHHANDLAKKD

user32: wait omg i love them already😭

user33: y/n using ouai in her caption after mistakenly calling ouidad ouai in her tiktok… i see u girl 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

user34: this is my taylor swift and travis kelce

user35: y/n wag era 😭🧡

#f1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one smau #formula 1 x reader #formula one imagine #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri scenario #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader

3K notes · View notes

apatheticsunday · 5 months ago

Text

Dead Serious Arranged Marriage

AKA "Damian al Ghul and the High King of Infinite Realms, Space, and the Dead are married because of some ritual Ra's al Ghul did when Damian was a baby. The Batfam only find out because Damian casually mentions his husband and they're like?? WHAT???" prompt idea!!

Loosely inspired by this post where Billy Batson & Danny Fenton accidentally get married and Billy spills the beans in front of the JL.

I love the idea of Ra's al Ghul knows Danny because of the Lazarus Pit; maybe Ghost King!Danny came to Ra's and was like, "You know unsanctioned resurrection is forbidden, right? You have to submit an Undead Appeal form in the afterlife. I'm gonna have to confiscate your Goop." But Ra's is a master manipulator and gets Danny to agree to a truce... a marriage with his grandson in exchange for continued use of the Lazarus Pit. Don't ask me how it happened; Ra's "wins" either way because his grandson gets married to a High King and he gets to keep his Goop.

(Because Danny's young, okay? Logistically speaking, he's not going to outsmart an immortal cult leader. Maybe sometime down the road Danny gets tired of Ra's talking circles around him and just, like, punches him in the face or something. Makes "Redemption Arc" Dan take care of it. Who knows?)

But for now, Danny is now married to a literal baby. He's confused as hell how this happened. He's like, omg, am I a groomer now?? Am I one of those creepy ancient kings that get married to 12 year old girls?? What the fuckkkk!!! So, he runs to the Ghost Zone. Goes off-world, maybe he gets swept up in Ghost King duties and totally forgets about it. The thing about the Ghost Zone is that the time dilation is different: a couple of days/weeks/months in the Ghost Zone is actual years on Earth. That's why Danny is still so young despite depictions of him going centuries back (time is even messier because he can actually time travel, too, so there may be paintings of him during the Aztec civilization but only because he was there for maybe a week or two.)

This leads to everybody on Earth thinking he's an Ancient Being. Ra's is elated that his grandson, the heir of the League of Assassins, is married to the equivalent of a God (he doesn't know that 99 percent of the time, Danny's lounging on Sam's couch in sweats and eating cheese puffs, watching melodramatic reality TV with Tucker).

And Damian grows up hearing about this legendary marriage, how this Great Ancient Being is his husband, and is... maybe scared? A little angry, resentful? He's had the choice taken from him from before he could even conceptualize it. He was a kid growing up thinking this All Powerful Being was watching his every move, judging him for not being the best like his Grandfather says, and waiting. He trains harder, learns more, maturing faster than anyone his age. And he's still waiting. Because the High King doesn't show up. Not when Damian's four, six, ten, twelve, fourteen. Damian thinks maybe he's not good enough yet despite vastly outdoing even the most seasoned senior assassins in the League.

Danny comes back to Earth and is like, oh, shit, I need to check on my baby!!! Except when he drops in on the League of Assassins, he's met with an angry, resentful, offended Damian al Ghul who's the same age as him. And Damian's met with.... some guy?? What the hell?? This can't be the High King of Infinite Realms, Space, and the Dead, Ancient Being, etc. He's heard so many stories of his husband, spanning centuries of different culture and in varying dead languages.

Needless to say, their introduction doesn't go great. But Danny wants to explain himself and make amends, and Damian's just baffled enough to listen. ("What do you mean, the Undead Siege of The Great Wall wasn't you???" "Yeah, that was the previous Ghost King. I've never risen an army of the dead before.") But as they talk, Damian begrudgingly accepts that his husband is... actually pretty cool (despite the god-awful sweatpants). Danny's recounting his various tales, usurping the previous Ghost King, and Damian even starts to respect Danny.

So, they keep talking. Keep meeting, learning about each other, becoming friends, and eventually becoming more. Damian originally thought Danny was too stupid for words, but quickly realizes that he's a great strategist, knowledgeable about a vast amount of stuff, and is incredibly loyal. Danny thinks Damian's deadpan bluntness is hilarious, understands Damian's pathological need to be the best (courtesy of the Demon Head's traumatic teaching during childhood), and is almost single-mindedly, unconditionally loyal. He's also incredibly petty, which is also hilarious.

Maybe years pass and they're now lovers, Danny sticking around Earth because he's scared if he goes into the Ghost Zone, he'll unintendedly come back when Damian's 90 or something. So, Danny's there when Talia takes Damian aside and says, "Bruce Wayne is your father. I'd like you to train under him before you become the new Demon Head."

Damian goes and Danny follows. When he worries about Tim usurping the title of Heir, Danny's there to say, "You don't make friends by attacking them, Dami! He's your family, not your enemy." The whole "Damian trying to kill Tim" thing doesn't happen. When he worries about disappointing his Father, Danny's saying, "He's your dad. He missed your childhood so he wants to get to know you - just be yourself." Damian doesn't act violently, aggressively, or is offensively provocative; he's still petty, painfully blunt, and exasperatingly self-confident, but he's also honest and thoughtful.

Damian transitions into the Batfam easier with Danny beside him (invisible, only showing himself while in Damian's room or when they're alone). Because Danny wants his husband to feel accepted, appreciated, and get the unconditional love that he never received while living with the LoA.

Let's imagine several months go by and the Batfam are totally comfortable with Damian. He's truly like their annoying younger brother. So, they're at family dinner, maybe Dick is discussing his relationship with Barbara and Steph makes a comment about when are you going to propose already?? Tim and Jason are ribbing him about commitment issues (Bruce is suspiciously silent, likely knowing that if he says something, his kids are going to verbally tear him apart for his Situationship with Selina).

And Damian says, "Many feel apprehensive to marry. I was not, of course, but my husband was very trepidatious."

The whole Batfam are like... what?? What do you mean the youngest kid of the Wayne household is the first to be married?? (Aside from Alfred, who's since divorced.) Is this even legal???

But Damian just continues on, "Perhaps discussing the progression of your relationship with Miss Gordon would be beneficial. Marriage should be consensual." (Damian learned that from Danny, who had offered to null their marriage in the early days. It was a heated conversation, Danny feeling guilty because he'd trapped Damian into this relationship and Damian feeling betrayed because what do you mean you're leaving me? This is unacceptable! They shared their first kiss after realizing neither one wants to end the marriage.)

And the Batfam, as comfortable as they are with Damian, knows he's a little like a feral animal. He doesn't share things about himself often. They don't want to scare him off by prying, even if Bruce is gripping the table cloth, sweating, and is looking pale. Because his child is literally married and God, please don't let it be to one of those old assassins in the League, please. So, Dick just says, "Uh, yeah. That's - thanks, kiddo, that's... a good idea."

Damian continues to make occasional comments about his husband, but nobody knows who it is. He doesn't use Danny's name. And Danny has to leave to do Ghost Stuff (despite being terrified of losing track of time, but Damian's now living with a loving family so he's kind of okay with being dragged off for his Kingly Duties). So, nobody's ever actually seen Danny.

Until the Joker decides to make his mark on the newest addition of the Batfam. He's already killed one Robin, traumatized the hell out of another, and paralyzed Batgirl. He's eager to add another of the Batfam to his roster.

Joker nor the Batfam anticipate the High King of Infinite Realms, Space, and the Dead to straight up portal Joker's ass into Frostbite's territory (aside from Damian because he absolutely knew what was going to go down the second he saw a glowing green aura illuminate the warehouse). One minute Joker is threatening a civilian Damian, whos' still dressed in his Gotham Academy uniform, and the next he's being violently yanked into a massive swirling void of green.

And who steps out? Ghost King Danny, in full kingly attire, including a wreathy crown of white-hot, broadsword hung on his hip, and a skull mask over his face. The Batfam are scrambling to get Damian's chains unlocked and haul him away from whatever-the-fuck that is. They get Damian unlocked, but he just snaps for them to desist your hysteria, Richard, 'that' is my husband.

(Cue the very tense family dinner afterward. Danny's in Damian's sweater and ripped jeans but the Batfam are just squinting at him like, how is this the same as that Thing from the warehouse?? Danny's totally oblivious, holding Damian's hand and saying, "Mr. Wayne, I love your home! The painted ceiling in that one from on the second floor is amazing, the constellations are actually super accurate!" He forgot that the Batfam had no idea he's visited Damian literally hundreds of times since he moved into Wayne Manor. Bruce looks like he's gained several greys in the last hour.)

(Bonus points if at some point Damian can be seen lovingly feeding Cheetos to Eldritch Monster Danny and the Batfam are just like that's... definitely not pants-shittingly terrifying... Bruce tells himself he's just glad his son isn't married to an LoA member.)

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dead serious #danny fenton x damian wayne #danny phantom x damian wayne #batfam #danny fenton #danny phantom #damian wayne #mine

4K notes · View notes

prlssprfctn · 6 months ago

Text

AU, where Bruce accidentally gets de-aged (physically and mentally), and the first person he bumps in is... Red Hood.

To Jason's defence, he didn't connect the dots at first. He was just patrolling around his usual turf, thinking of nothing in particular, when he saw a small child in a ridiculously serious suit, sulking around Crime Alley. He looks distraught, and considering that he looks rich, it is no surprise - that is not a place for him. So, he is either lost or something happened, right?

He takes the helmet off, as he usually does when he is dealing with kids (they got scared easily) and carefully approaches a brooding baby.

'Hey, shrimp. Where are your parents at?'

That said shrimp turns around, his big blue eyes looking confused and lost, and Jason thinks he looks awfully familiar.

'I am not shrimp,' he protests instantly, pouting at him. 'And they are somewhere... here. We just left the movie theatre together!'

Jason glances at the abandoned movie theatre, back at the little rich boy with a familiar frown, and it clicks. This is his fucking dad. Suddenly, a kid - but it is fucking Bruce Wayne, for sure.

'Was watching Zorro by any chance?' Jason still asks, just to be sure that he is not going insane.

Bruce - and it must be him - beams at him.

'Yes! This is a great movie, by the way.'

Oh, hell. At least, he didn't witness his parents' death just yet. Jason wasn't sure he would be able to deal with his father being so small, and mourning his mom and dad. He would probably cry himself at some point.

'Hey,' Jason calls out for him slowly, squatting down; God, who would've thought that this little shrimp would become so tall and big in the future. 'Aren't you... You must be Thomas's kid, right?'

Okay, yeah, Jason is going to lie to this kid. Because there is no way he manages just to steal Bruce as a stranger to bring him back home; it is still a kid, even if it is his father. Right?

'You know my dad?' Bruce tilts his head, little fingers tugging on the hem of his jacket; suspicious.

'You could say that,' Jason nods. 'Alfie... I mean, Alfred called me. Asked me to pick up a kid, since Thomas and Martha got an urgent call.'

Fuck his life and stupid life choices. What the hell he was even doing? He looked like a mugger; or like a psycho. But Alfred was his best bet - he could call him, after all; ask, well, support his idiotic made-up story.

'No one calls Alfred Alfie but my dad,' Bruce pouts in a very, very spoiled manner.

'Well... I do. We served together in the army,' he blurts out.

His armour, apparently, is enough a proof for the kid to nod slowly.

'Okay. But you gotta take off your strange mask first,' Bruce folds arms on his chest.

...???

Did this kid just agree for an unknown man to take him home? Like this? Who could've thought that this pouty child would become the most paranoid man alive in the future?

'Uh, why?'

'So I can remember your face and do an identikit, if you turn out to be a bad guy,' Bruce smirks stupidly. 'Duh.'

Jason is going to cry. This kid is so cute.

'Yeah, duh,' Jason huffs, but despite his better judgment takes the domino mask off as well. 'Go on, take your time. My identikit should be the prettiest, shrimp.'

Bruce... gawks at him. His eyes are comically wide now, mouth open, and then, he jumps a little closer to him - oh, God, he is jumping when excited? - putting his hellishly cold hands on Jason's cheeks.

'Woah. You look like dad.'

'Uh,' Jason nods awkwardly, and because he is an idiot, adds a joke: 'We are brothers, actually. Just don't talk much.'

...Apparently, little Bruce can't take jokes. Because he lets out an adorable gasp, and throws himself on Jason as if they knew each other for ages now.

'Uncle? That's so cool. You look like Zorro!'

Damn this little kid, and this stupid family. Damn Joe Chill and the night he killed this kid's parents. Damn it all. Bruce might be an asshole sometimes, but he was so... cute and innocent.

'Thanks, shrimp,' Jason slides a domino mask back on, picks up little Bruce with one arm, and grips a helmet with another. 'Come on, let's go home. Alfred will make your favourite tiramisu.'

'You know my favourites?!'

Jason sniffles.

'Yeah. Yeah, I do, kid.'

If he gets so emotional over this kid, he has no idea how worse Dick is going to be once he finds out.

Oh, this is going to be one hell of a night.

#batmobile conventionally appears to be somewhere close so Jason uses it to get lil Bruce back #Bruce is Buzzing with excitment this car is so cool #also Bruce “I get stolen for ransom everytime and then so I just chill most of the time” Wayne #*narrator's voice*: Dick in fact was sobbing when he saw little B #Alfred sniffled a few time #everyone was amused by Jason uncle story so they just kept teasing him about it #little B unironically thought his uncle was cool though #normal-sized Bruce and Jason stared awkwardly at each other afterwords #something about Jason reminding and acting like Thomas Wayne a lil...#jason todd #red hood #dcu comics #dc universe #dcu #batman #bruce wayne #batfamily #batfam

4K notes · View notes

kingkaisen · 2 years ago

Text

“WELL, WE SHOULD PROBABLY FUCK, RIGHT?”

♡ — SUMMARY; you & gojo are both sealed away in the prison realm. with nothing else to do, you might as well start fucking, right?

♡ — CONTENT; 18+ ONLY // MDNI — fem! reader, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (fem receiving), missionary, degrading nickname, best friends to friends with benefits, bickering, slightly jealous gojo, you & gojo are both the strongest sorcerers in the world.

♡ — A/N; based on this drabble (: I love this man sm, I’d do his taxes for him btw // also, pls don’t repost my gif!

♡ — WC; 3k

“This is all your fault, Satoru.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Okay, so I was distracted,” Gojo kicked up his feet, placing his black boots across a pile of dusty skeleton heads as if he was at home, relaxing on his plush couch, and not trapped inside of the prison realm. “If I remember correctly – and I do remember correctly because it happened thirty seconds ago – you were distracted too. Who knew that seeing your dead classmate would throw you off?”

“Throw me off?” You frowned, moving around a pile of bones to sit down somewhat comfortably. “You nearly passed out. I saw it with my own eyes, Satoru.”

“Oh,” Giving a small chuckle, Gojo tilted his head a bit as he smirked. “So you could see that, but you couldn’t see the weird guy with the two short ponytails almost obliterate you?”

“I don’t remember that. Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“See this?” Gojo lifted a skull pressing against his right leg, and he dangled it in front of you. “This would’ve been you if it wasn’t for me.”

“You dumbass,” you paused, rolling your eyes, “because of you, we’re both gonna end up exactly like that skeleton. You do realize we’re trapped in here, right? No way out?”

“Calm down. Someone will save us. I have faith, don’t you?”

“Hell no,” a small sigh fell from between your lips, “and you know what? I hope we don’t get saved. The fact that we let ourselves get captured like this is embarrassing. I absolutely cannot leave this stupid box and look another sorcerer in the eye after this. I’d rather die.”

“You’re pretty dramatic,” Gojo sighed. “I hear you, though. We really screwed this up. We should’ve picked different careers. I could’ve been a really nice basketball coach.”

“I would’ve been a coffee shop owner.” Distracted by your own what-if daydreams, you mistakenly leaned back on a pile of skeletons, nearly jumping out of your skin once you remembered that you were indeed lying on a pile of skeletons. “Shit! I gotta get outta here, I can’t do this.”

“Just calm down, it isn’t so bad.” As Gojo adjusted himself, he grunted. “Remember when you dressed up as a skeleton for Halloween? You manifested this.”

“I should’ve never taught you that word,” frowning, you stood up, glancing around the dark inner workings of the prison realm. “How can you relax in a place like this? Aren’t you uncomfortable? Or at least a little bit scared?”

“Hmm, no.” Gojo grinned.

“I shouldn’t have asked. You’re too stupid to know when to be scared.”

“Ouch,” Gojo said dramatically, a hint of amusement coating his words. “Ya know, I’m glad you’re not a coffee shop owner. You’d probably toss random shit in someone’s coffee, sweetheart.”

“Oh my god, please shut up.”

“You shut up,” Gojo retorted childishly.

Deep breathing exercises had certainly come in handy during moments such as this one.

Although years upon years had passed since you and Gojo were kids, running around in Halloween costumes and splitting popsicles, it felt as if no time had passed at all whenever you two held a conversation.

Even so, how exactly did it come to this?

Gojo never truly had an ordinary childhood — you were the only normal thing in his life at the time — but you grew up rather unextraordinary.

A normal girl, one who went to school and did her classwork before sneaking off to a secluded lake in the late afternoons with Gojo, skipping rocks and eating sandwiches together.

It was a beautifully plain life. One that was ripped away from you by curses and sorcery.

The only silver lining that truly existed was your old classmates; the dear friends you made once you attended Jujutsu High all those years ago, and in particular, a dark-haired, mellow guy.

“Must’ve been really hard for you,” Gojo suddenly mumbled, “seeing Suguru again. You two had gotten pretty close, right? Up until he . . . left?”

“What’s up with the mumbling? Now isn’t the time for you to get jealous.”

“I’m not,” Gojo mumbled once again, turning his head away from you. “It’s not like that was the real Suguru anyway. Our Suguru is gone for good.”

“Yeah.” The sad tone of your voice is what grabbed Gojo’s attention. One thing that was stronger than his jealousy over you and Geto’s old fondness for one another was his deep concern for you.

“Hey, c’mere,” Gojo smiled softly, facing you once again.

“Huh?” You raised your eyebrows.

“I said come here.”

Hesitantly, you walked over to where Gojo was stretched out among the bones, sitting down on the ground beside him as best as you could with all the skeletons around. As you looked at him, it was rather impossible to understand how he could relax so comfortably.

“Come closer,” he held his arm out, waving you over.

“Why? What for?”

“‘Cause I wanna hold you, so just come here.” Suddenly, Gojo leaned up a bit, grabbing ahold of your wrist before pulling you on top of him.

With his other hand, he gripped the back of your thigh, moving your leg over his hips as he leaned back. He sighed with contentment once you were fully on top of him. Releasing your wrist, the white-haired man touched the side of your face, slowly guiding your head to his chest. “See? Isn’t this better than laying on those skeletons?”

“I guess so,” you mumbled against his chest.

“Why are you so tense?” Gojo guided his hand across one of your shoulders, and he started to rub it.

“Hard to relax when you’re trapped in the prison realm,” you paused. “Not to mention I’m literally laying on top of you.”

“So? We hug and stuff all the time.”

“This is more than hugging, and we’ve barely done that,” you smiled softly. “Kinda nice, though. You’re pretty warm.”

“You’re pretty warm too. And really soft.” With his other hand — the one that never left your thigh — Gojo slowly stroked you, gliding his hand up and down, but not daring to touch your ass just yet.

But he wanted to. Desperately.

Suddenly, Gojo shifted his body, squirming just a bit.

“You okay?” You questioned, lifting your head off of his chest to look at his blindfolded face. “Want me to get off?”

“No, not at all, everything’s fine,” Gojo lied.

Truth be told, his dick was starting to harden in his pants, and he could barely stand it.

“Oh, okay,” laying your head back down on Gojo’s chest, you spoke once again. “Satoru? What are we supposed to do until someone saves us? Just sit here and wait?”

“No, that’s a bad idea,” Gojo said.

“Then what should we do?”

Before he answered, Gojo placed his finger underneath his blindfold, pulling at it playfully.

“Well, we should probably fuck, right?”

It took a moment for Gojo’s sinful words to fully sink in. Upon realizing that you had heard him correctly, your head snapped up, your eyes widening with utter shock.

“What?”

“You heard me, sweetheart,” Gojo smirked. “No need to make such a big deal out of it. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Yes, but . . .” You paused, darting your eyes across the vast, skeleton-filled, dark space. “Here? Of all places?”

Gojo shifted once again. He gripped his pants, but he truthfully wanted to grip his cock instead.

“I’d fuck you anywhere,” Gojo said lowly. “I just think it’s time we finally fuck each other, don’t you?”

Suddenly, his large hand gripped the back of your head, and your best friend shoved his lips against yours.

“Hmm,” Gojo moaned softly, kissing you passionately with those sweet, feathery lips of his. Kissing you — finally, after so many years of dreaming about it — was a magical experience. Before, he never believed in soulmates or seeing fireworks when kissing someone — until now.

“Shit, you’re so . . .” His words trailed off as he pulled away, his warm breath patting against your pretty face.

“Satoru,” you mumbled against his lips, “I didn’t know you thought of me this way. I didn’t think that I’d be someone you’d wanna sleep with.”

“Really? Why’s that?” As Gojo spoke, he took off his blindfold, staring at you — then your lips — with those vibrant, ocean-blue eyes of his.

“We’ve barely even hugged,” when you frowned, just a little bit, Gojo wanted to kiss your pouty lips over and over again until his mouth was sore.

God, he wanted you in ways he couldn’t even begin to vocalize.

But he’d certainly try.

“And I thought I was being obvious this entire time,” Gojo paused. “Whenever we would fight together, side by side, do you know how hard it was to concentrate? All I could ever focus on in the middle of battle was trying not to let myself get distracted by you. Hearing you grunt and groan, just watching the way you’d move. I’ve always wanted to take you home with me once the fight ended, toss you on my bed, and find out all the noises you can make; see how loud you can get. I just gotta hear you moan for me, baby. I have to.”

Running his thumb over your soft mouth, he slightly pulled down on your bottom lip, all before he leaned in again, moving his thumb away and replacing it with his lips.

This time, when he kissed you, he didn’t hold back. That sweet tongue of his entered your mouth as if it was on a mission, and he swirled his tongue around yours, enjoying every little surprised noise you made just as much as he enjoyed tasting your delicious mouth. He’d kiss you forever if he could.

A small part of him hoped that the two of you would never get released, and he could spend eternity with his tongue sloppily flicking against yours.

A pair of large hands suddenly gripped your ass. When you gasped, pulling away from Gojo’s lips, he smiled. You were just too cute.

Who knew that the prison realm would actually turn out to be heaven?

“You’re so tense,” Gojo said with a hint of a teasing tone. “Has no one ever touched you like this before?”

“People have — I mean, I’ve done stuff before, it’s just . . .”

When you failed to finish your sentence, Gojo took it upon himself to finish it for you.

“It’s just that no one’s ever made you feel good before,” his sly grin only grew. “Right?”

“I-” you stammered, “that’s none of your business.”

“Lay down.”

“Why?” You asked, your curiosity at its peak.

“I wanna eat you out, sweet girl. Now lay down.” Gojo’s hands moved from your ass to your hips, and he lifted you off of his lap and laid you down next to him.

He then flipped over on top of you, giving you another kiss — a little, quick one — before he started to impatiently unbutton your pants.

“What kinda best friend would I be if I just let you keep living your life without having had a proper orgasm?” He said, shrugging off your bottoms. “Told you not to waste any time with all those shitty guys. You should’ve been with me from the start.”

“Yeah, yeah,” rolling your eyes, you sat up on your elbows, looking down at the sorcerer between your thighs, who slowly pulled down your underwear and held your legs open. “You’re not the first guy who has said a bunch of hot things to me, but then failed to deliver-”

You were interrupted by your own unexpected gasp, as it was elicited from your throat thanks to Gojo’s skillful tongue, which had swiped right across your clit.

He was such a tease; that tongue of his could work wonders. And it did. He flicked at your clit rapidly, and during every quick stroke, his eyes never glanced away from your face.

You started to squirm, but he held onto your thighs, convinced that absolutely nothing in this world could make him want to stop eating your pussy. Not when it tasted so undeniably good.

“Had no idea this pretty pussy was so damn delicious,” he pulled away, mumbling against your wet folds. “Should’ve done this a long time ago, baby.”

When he dived back into your pussy, he licked and sucked, sucked and licked. Good god, you tasted amazing. So, so amazing. He couldn’t help but moan as he made a mess of your pussy; your juices and his spit decorating his face.

“Oh my god, Satoru,” you moaned, “I’m close-”

Once again, your words were cut off by your own uncontrollable moans. That sweet orgasm was brewing right in the pit of your stomach.

You expected him to pull away once you warned him about your approaching orgasm, but he didn’t. Instead, he pressed his calloused fingertips into your plush thighs even harder, and he ate your pussy as messily as possible. Licked at it more rapidly. Sucked on your clit more hungrily.

“Cum in my mouth,” he moaned out in between licks. “Don’t hold back; I want it all. Cum in my mouth right now.”

“Gojo!” You called out. Last warning.

Instead of pulling away, he reached forward, grabbing ahold of your soft tits. With his fingers, he flicked at your hard nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt.

And with that, you arched your back off of the hard ground, moaning his name over and over again like a sinner praying for forgiveness.

Gojo lapped up your juices as if he was dying of thirst. He’ll be damned if he missed even a single drop of it.

“Damn it,” he said as he detached his lips from your swollen clit. “I wanna eat you out over and over again, but I gotta fuck you. I just gotta know what it’s like to be inside of you.”

Gojo sat up on his knees. He unbuttoned his pants. When he pulled them down, along with his boxers, his hard dick flung out.

You couldn’t help but stare at the mesmerizing large dick. The tip of it was red and swollen, precum dripping from his aching hole. Two long, thick veins ran along his member.

“You’re so big,” you stated, darting your eyes between his hard cock and handsome face.

“It’s okay,” Positioning himself in between your legs, he said, “I’ll make it fit, baby.”

When he pressed the tip of his dick against your awaiting hole, it felt like he was stepping through the gates of heaven.

One hand was placed next to your head, holding himself up, while his other hand gripped your hip.

His dick slid inside of your soaking wet pussy as if it belonged there; pieces of a puzzle coming together. The sinful moan that fell from between his lips was beautiful.

He couldn’t help it.

Not when your pussy was so tight, wet, and warm.

“Hmm, hey baby?” Gojo whispered, his warm breath patting against your ear, soft white hair tickling the side of your face. “You called me Gojo instead of Satoru earlier when I was eating your pussy. I want you to moan it again for me, over and over again. Can you do that?”

You nodded eagerly.

“Such a sweet girl,” he gave the shell of your ear a quick little lick. “So, so sweet.”

He didn’t wait too long to start thrusting in and out of you once your pussy had adjusted to his size. He simply couldn’t. Not when you felt so utterly amazing.

With his lips still close to your ear as he fucked you, the chatty man whispered all sorts of dirty things. And it only made you moan even louder.

“I could fuck you just like this forever. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He grunted, slamming himself inside of you at a quicker pace. “Sorry if I’m being too rough. I can’t help it, baby. Your pussy’s driving me crazy, just like I knew it would. I knew my best friend would feel this good. Who else other than me would know what to do with a pussy like this? Hm?”

“Gojo,” you called out, gripping his shoulders for dear life. “Gojo, I can’t- I’m gonna cum again!”

“Already?” He smirked, pulling away from your ear, his face only a few inches away from yours. “Gonna cum all over my dick? Make a mess?”

You didn’t respond — you couldn’t respond — not when he rhythmically fucked you like a doll, the tip of his dick reaching all the right spots inside of you.

“Shit,” Gojo suddenly groaned. “Think I’m gonna cum too, baby. I can’t hold it . . . Can’t fucking hold it much longer. I’m gonna fill you up. Stuff that pretty pussy with my cum. No one else will get to.”

“Please do it,” you stammered out with a whine, struggling to speak from the way your body was being pounded into. “P-Please!”

Suddenly, Gojo felt your pussy tighten around his cock. A wave of pure bliss washed over you, making your toes curl as you moaned his name in broken syllables.

The prettiest tears started to fall from your eyes. Gojo kissed them away.

His own orgasm was approaching quickly, building up in his lower stomach, dick, balls, and even his thighs.

“I’m so close — I’m right there, baby. I’m right there. Shit — I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum right inside of you, baby — there’s so much of it. I’m cumming-”

Feeling your cum coat his cock as your pussy milked him pushed him right over the edge. He moaned so loudly, it would have been entirely unsurprising if someone could have heard it from outside of the box.

He shot ropes upon ropes of warm, thick, pearly cum inside of you. His dick throbbed with every pulse, spilling every last drop of his semen into your stuffed hole.

“Baby,” Gojo whined lowly, attempting to catch his breath. “I didn’t think I’d ever stop cumming. You drive me crazy.”

“Can we go again?” Looking into his eyes with a pleading glance, you said, “I need more, Gojo, make me cum again. Please?”

“Did I just turn my best friend into my little slut?” Smirking, Gojo leaned down, kissing your lips once again. It was his favorite thing to do. “I’ll make you cum as many times as you want, sweetheart. We might be here for a while, so why not?”

Suddenly, Gojo lifted you, switching your positions until you were sitting right on top of him, his dick still inside of you.

“The prison realm doesn’t seem so bad anymore,” you grinned.

Gripping your hips, Gojo’s eyes scanned over your beautiful body, admiring the perfect view as you started to ride him.

Perhaps, he would have to thank Kenjaku someday.

🏷: @allofffmypeaches @manjiroswifo @yourusernames @armani78 @darkphoenix3432 @komonika

44K notes · View notes

zhelin-thames · 8 months ago

Text

A Ghostly Text Mishap

Danny flopped onto his bed, phone in hand, glaring at the screen. Another long day of dealing with Vlad's manipulative nonsense had left him frustrated beyond belief. He opened his messages, found the contact labeled Trucker, and began furiously typing.

Danny: You will NOT believe what Plasmius did this time. The absolute NERVE of this guy. You’d think being half-dead would make someone LESS petty, but nooo, this man’s ego is bigger than the Ghost Zone.

Danny: He tried to "buy" my parents' company AGAIN. He offered to “help” with ghost containment tech but really just wants to snoop around for weaknesses in the portal.

Danny: AND he had the audacity to call me “Little Badger” like it’s a term of endearment. I swear, if I hear that ONE MORE TIME, I might go full ghost and dropkick him into the Fenton Thermos.

Satisfied with his venting, Danny tossed his phone onto the bed and buried his face in his pillow. Unbeknownst to him, he had made one critical mistake.

Jason Todd, aka Red Hood, was sitting in his safe house, polishing his guns when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen.

Unknown Number: You will NOT believe what Plasmius did this time…

Jason raised an eyebrow. “What the hell is this?” he muttered, scrolling through the tirade. By the time he got to “Little Badger”, he was smirking.

He typed back:

Jason: Kid, I think you’ve got the wrong number. Unless this “Plasmius” guy is a Gotham villain I’ve somehow missed.

Danny’s phone buzzed, and he rolled over to check it. His heart dropped when he saw the reply.

Danny: Oh no. This isn’t Trucker, is it?

Jason: Nope. But you’ve got my attention. Who’s Plasmius, and why does he sound like the type of guy I’d shoot on principle?

Danny hesitated, then decided to just roll with it.

Danny: Short version: he’s a half-ghost fruitloop billionaire who’s obsessed with ruining my life, becoming my creepy stepdad, and taking over the world. Think Lex Luthor but undead and ickier.

Jason burst out laughing, earning a curious glance from Roy Harper, who had just walked in.

“Who’s got you laughing like that?” Roy asked, setting down a bag of takeout.

“Some kid who texted me by mistake,” Jason replied, showing him the messages.

Roy skimmed them and snickered. “Plasmius? Sounds like a knockoff vampire villain.”

Jason’s fingers flew over the keyboard.

Jason: Okay, kid, you’ve officially got my interest. I don’t know who you are, but if this Plasmius guy’s half as bad as you say, I’ve got some creative ways to deal with him. You in Gotham?

Danny stared at the message, blinking. Who even was this guy? But... he did sound like he knew how to handle problems.

Danny: Uh, no. I’m from Amity Park. It’s kind of a supernatural hotspot, so I’ve got it covered. But thanks for the offer, I guess?

Jason smirked.

Jason: Supernatural hotspot? Kid, you’re talking to someone who’s been resurrected. Ghosts don’t scare me.

Danny froze. Resurrected? Oh no. This guy might actually know about the supernatural.

Danny: ...Wait, who ARE you?

Jason: Name’s Jason. Most people call me Red Hood. Ever heard of me?

Danny blinked, then groaned. “Of course. I text a vigilante. Just my luck.”

Danny: ...Yeah, I’ve heard of you. So, uh, thanks for not tracking this number and showing up at my house or something.

Jason: Yet.

Danny felt a shiver run down his spine.

Danny: That’s not funny, dude.

Jason: Relax, Little Badger. Your secret’s safe with me. For now. But hey, if you ever need help dealing with your undead billionaire problem, hit me up.

Danny sighed, shaking his head.

Danny: Sure. Thanks, I guess?

Jason leaned back, grinning as he saved the number under Ghost Kid.

“Roy, I think I just found the weirdest contact in my phone.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Roy replied, tossing Jason a burger.

“Not bad. Just… different.” Jason chuckled. “Plasmius, huh? Sounds like fun.”

4K notes · View notes

rawme-price · 6 days ago

Note

Part 3 to martyr complex healer!reader please!👀

Hehe part 3 :] (pt 1 here, pt 2 here)

The interior of the humvee comes to you in small blurry flashes, eyelids heavy and sagging for stretches of time. You can make out the vague rhythm of tense argument over your head, and whenever the softer voice speaks the right side of your face vibrates.

"-ing why the hell did- Oh shit, look alive kid."

Awareness snaps back to you like a rubber band, leaving your ears ringing as you try to get your bearings. Youre laid out across the seats of the humvee, legs propped on ghosts lap and head cradled to gazs chest. Trees blur by outside the window. Price is speeding.

"Scared the hell out of me, you okay love?" Gaz looks down at you, his voice felt more than heard with how your ear presses against his lungs. Scared? Why the hell would he be...? Oh. You passed out. Okay.

You weakly reach for you cargo pockets, and Kyle helps undo the velcro when you fail to open it twice. He reaches in, pulls out a protein bar and stares at it with narrowed eyes. You snatch it out of his hands, tear open the wrapper with your teeth and take a bite. It was bad enough you passed out during what was technically an active op, but in front of everyone? There was no avoiding the conversation. You steel your nerves with a second bite.

"Yeah. Im fine." Ghost snorts at that and you ignore him "just uh- got dehydrated."

"Uh-huh." Price's voice, now. Sounding totally unamused "dehydrated enough that you suddenly passed out with absolutely no warning signs? You wanna try that again?"

"Uh-" shit. Of course the special forces guys wont believe such simple lies. Your mind still feels fuzzy, and its hard to grasp a solid story when every breath feels like its around six bullets. "Look. Its not anything serious, I just overestimated my abilities. Tons of people do that, ill be more careful next time. I mean it, cap."

Theres no way in hell you're admitting to the truth. No one wants to be healed if it makes them feel guilty, and you are no help to the team if yoh cant heal. Price hums dubiously, but he lets the subject go. No doubt he'll bring it up at the worst time for you later.

Now, you try to focus on breathing through your nose. The truck his a large pothole that makes your vision kaleidoscope, and you involuntarily flinch into kyles chest. Just that small movement, the barest brush of breath has kyle adjusting his hold to cradle you better. Warm skin against warm skin. Right. You had to remove kyles shirt to heal him.

He doesnt seem to mind, pressing you to his heart without a word. Out of everyone here, he knows you best. Its painful, knowing kyle will ask about this later and you will lie to his face.

Ghosts eyes glimmer deep in his mask where they observe you two on the other side of the truck. He says nothing.

#poor reader cant even enjoy the shirtless cuddles bc theyre in so much pain :[#cod #cod angst #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #gaz angst #platonic 141 x reader #141 reader

1K notes · View notes

starksweasley · 15 days ago

Text

free fall

pairing: clark kent x reader

summary: you and clark get into a fight, and then the city explodes.

wc: 2.5k+

The slam of the door is deafening. Not because of the sound, but because of what it means. You don’t even flinch. Just march across the room, jaw set, fists clenched so tight your nails dig crescent moons into your palms. You don’t want to see his face right now. Not when you know it’ll be full of that infuriatingly particular mix of fury and worry that he’s so good at disguising as concern.

“You could’ve died,” Clark mutters quietly.

You exhale through your nose, sharp and hot. “We’re doing this already?”

“You walked into a weapons drop, alone,” he bites out, voice rising like a slow tide. “You had no protection, no plan, and no backup.”

“I had my plan,” you snap, spinning to face him. “It just didn’t involve checking in with my overbearing alien bodyguard first.”

He flinches. Just slightly. But it’s enough.

“Don’t,” he warns. His voice is so low you’re surprised your ears process the decibel.

Your laugh is dry. “What? You don’t like being talked down to? Imagine how I felt when you showed up halfway through and practically ripped the comm out of my ear in front of everyone like I’m some stupid kid who can’t tie her own shoes.”

“You were going to get killed.”

“I was doing my job.” Your voice cracks, but you don’t let it stop you. “I was doing what I’m good at. What you know I’m good at. But you don’t care about that, do you? You just care that I didn’t stay in the safe little box you always want me in. I can’t spend my whole life waiting for you, Clark!”

His gaze is calm as he stares at you but you don’t miss the way his hands curl into fists at his sides. “That’s not true. Don’t twist this.”

“Oh, I’m twisting things?” you spit. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, it sure as hell sounds like you think I’m too weak to be trusted with anything real.”

“I didn’t say that,” he growls, stepping closer.

“You didn’t have to,” you exclaim. “You don’t ever have to. You swoop in, rip the roof off, throw some trucks across the parking lot, and suddenly it’s your operation. Your city. Your rules.”

“I was trying to protect you!”

“And I never asked you to!”

That stops him. His face falters for half a second, and he blinks like you just struck him with your ring-clad hand.

“I didn’t ask for a superhero boyfriend,” you thunder on, voice shaking now, unable to stop yourself. “I asked for you. And maybe I was an idiot for thinking I could have both.”

His chest rises and falls fast, and his voice comes out quiet and hard. “Don’t do that. Don’t stand there and act like I’m some stranger in a cape. You know me.”

“Do I?” you whisper. “Because lately, it feels like all I see is Superman. Not Clark. Not the man I fell in love with. Just the guy who shows up after the explosions and tells me I should’ve waited for him.”

He’s silent for too long. His mouth opens, then closes. And when he speaks again, his voice is soft. Broken, almost.

“I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

It takes everything in you not to smooth your hands over his chest and soothe that ache in his tone that twists your stomach into knots, but your throat is tight and you take a step back. Your eyes begin to burn and you look down, unwilling to let him see.

“That’s not love, Clark. That’s fear.”

His brow furrows. “No, it’s not—it’s—”

“Yes, it is. You want to love someone who stays behind. Who stays safe. Who doesn’t scare you.”

“Of course you scare me!” he retorts, arms flailing. “Because you’re the one thing in this world I can’t live without. And I can’t make sure you’re okay. Not all the time. I don’t—I don't know how to live with that.”

You open your mouth to answer. To hurl something sharp and hurtful back at him because you’re angry and exhausted and you don’t know what else to do, but you don’t get the chance.

Because everything shakes.

The floor ripples beneath your feet. A massive rumble splits the air like the earth is groaning. You both freeze.

Then comes the blast. A thunderous, bone-rattling sound from blocks away, light flashing through the apartment window like a silent scream.

Clark turns instinctively, eyes already glowing faintly with panic and focus. He’s halfway to the window before you the words tumble through your lips.

“Don’t you dare leave right now.”

He stops in his tracks.

You’re standing there, arms crossed tightly over your chest, shoulders trembling. You know you’re being irrational. You know he has a duty to fulfill and you would never usually stand between him and his job. But your heartbeat is pounding in your ears and the edges of your vision blur with frustration and adrenaline.

“Don’t you leave in the middle of this,” you say, each word weighted. “Don’t fly away from this like it doesn’t matter.”

He turns, slowly, and his face—god, his face.

You’ve seen him wear pain before. Seen it when he lost people, seen it when the world turned to ash in his hands. But this time it’s different because you know you’re the reason he looks like that.

His brows are drawn tight, a deep crease forming between them. His mouth is slightly open, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how. His eyes are so full of agony you wish your ego would melt away just so you could apologize and kiss his face until they light up again.

He doesn’t want to leave. Of course he doesn't. You can see it in every inch of him.

“Please,” you plead, even though you know it’s futile.

“I don’t want to,” he whispers. “You have to believe me—I don’t want to. I want to stay and fix this. I want to take it all back.”

Your breath catches.

“But I can’t.” Clark’s voice shakes. “People are in danger. If I don’t go, they die.”

You stay silent, blinking fast and shaking your head. He steps forward, just enough to cup your cheek in one hand. His palm is warm, trembling.

“I swear to you,” he says, eyes locked on yours, desperate, “I’ll come back. I’ll come home.”

You close your eyes.

By the time you open them again, he’s gone. Your heart lurches so violently you actually stumble back a step.

The space he just vacated is still vibrating with the gust of his departure, curtains whipping like they’re trying to follow him, like they know how badly you want to. You move on instinct, half numb and half breathless, dragging your feet toward the window.

Your apartment’s on the thirty-second floor. It gives you a perfect view of the city—and of the nightmare unfolding within it.

A fireball licks at the sky just a few blocks down, the explosion now a thick pillar of smoke and ash curling into the air like a monster’s shadow. Windows are shattered. Rubble covers the streets. People are running, screaming—some limping, some carrying others, some not moving at all. A gaping wound has torn itself into the heart of the city.

Your hand flies to your mouth in shock.

And there he is.

A blue-and-red blur streaks through the sky like a bullet of mercy, and your chest caves in at the sight of him. Superman. Clark. Your Clark.

He’s scooping people from rooftops, using his heat vision to weld a collapsing structure into temporary stability, shielding a group of civilians with his own body as an ambulance drives through the chaos. He looks like a god.

But you know that face. You know the pinch in his brow, the tremble in his jaw when he’s scared out of his mind but has to act like he isn’t. You can feel it in your bones: he’s holding on by a thread.

And you’re still up here.

You’re moving before you’ve fully processed it. You throw on the first shoes you find, tear open the stairwell door, and sprint downward two steps at a time. No time for the elevator. No time for hesitation.

By the time you burst into the street, the world is smoke and screams.

You don’t know where to start.

There’s a woman with a deep gash in her leg leaning against a crumpled bus. You rush to her, toss her arm over your shoulder, and guide her over broken glass toward a triage area forming near a still-standing corner store. You grab bandages from a supply crate and press them to bleeding skin. You haul debris off a man’s chest with a stranger whose name you never ask. You press a hand to a child’s hair as she sobs in your lap. You hand out water bottles. Every time you look up, you search for blue and red. And every time, there he is—lifting, flying, catching, saving.

And then you spot him. A boy. Eight years old, maybe. Trapped halfway up a twisted steel staircase, the only way up to him a makeshift scaffold of what used to be part of a fire escape. The steel beam leading up to him is bent and definitely unstable. Your feet are sprinting towards him before your brain even has a chance to catch up.

You climb fast, heart in your throat. The beam groans wearily beneath you as you inch out, crawling on hands and knees.

The boy is whimpering, clutching a stuffed bear to his chest. “I can’t move,” he sobs. “I’m stuck—”

“You’re okay,” you breathe, trying to sound soothing despite the fact that the metal beneath your palms just shifted. “Hey, look at me. What’s your name?”

“J-Jordan.”

“Okay, Jordan. I’m gonna get you down, alright, sweetie? We’re gonna do this together. Hold my shoulders and don’t let go.”

You lift him up, slide him carefully behind you, and begin to scoot backward, inch by inch.

The beam wobbles.

Shit.

You shove the kid toward the edge, where someone’s waiting to catch him. “Take him!” you yell, and they do, pulling him off just in time.

But you’re not so lucky.

The beam snaps, and suddenly you’re falling. A scream violently rips out of your throat as the world turns sideways and the wind rushes past your ears. You flail. Panic claws at your chest, your limbs, your lungs.

And then—

Arms.

Strong, unshakable arms wrap around you like a vice mid-air, halting your fall with an aggressive jolt. You crash into something solid. No, someone. You know that chest. That heat. That scent of ozone and something impossibly Clark.

He sets you down in the middle of the street gently—almost too gently for how hard your body’s shaking. But when your legs stumble, he’s already gripping your waist, steadying you, holding on like he might lose you again if he doesn’t.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice is frantic. Rough. He’s running his big hands over your arms, down your ribs, checking for breaks or blood or anything that might explain why you just fell from the goddamn sky.

“I couldn’t just sit there,” you rasp.

He freezes. Hands still on your waist. His eyes are so wild and so blue you feel like you’re drowning on dry land.

And then he kisses you.

It’s sudden. Desperate. Messy.

His lips crash into yours like an aftershock, all teeth and heat and breathless fear. His hands frame your face now, thumbs trembling where they press against your jaw.

“Please,” he gasps against your mouth like a man starved. “Please just don’t get hurt. I can’t—I need you to be okay. Okay?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to sleep. Clark hesitates for one more beat, eyes locked on yours like he’s trying to memorize the moment, then disappears back into the chaos with a gust of wind and a rush of air.

You exhale, chest heaving, and then jump right back in.

You help the EMTs. You tear cloth into bandages. You cradle heads, squeeze hands, speak softly to people bleeding and terrified. You give them what you can.

When the smoke finally begins to clear, you lean against a battered light pole, wiping sweat and grime from your face.

You feel him before you see him. The gust of wind. The heat at your back. The familiar crackle of power in the air. You turn.

Clark is already landing in front of you.

He says nothing. Just wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you tight against him. Then he shoots into the sky with you in his arms.

He doesn’t speak again until you’re back in the apartment.

He sets you down like you’re made of something clear and breakable, but you don’t even make it more than two steps. He’s already reaching for you, already sinking onto the couch and pulling you into his lap, holding you so tightly against his chest you can feel the unsteady rhythm of his heart under your palm.

Your knees fall on either side of his thighs. His arms wrap around your back, slipping under your shirt, one hand weaving up into your hair.

He kisses you again. But this one is slow. Careful. Mouth moving against yours like a prayer. Like an apology. Like he’s trying to pour every unsaid word into your skin through his lips. You swear you feel him sigh into you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers when he finally pulls away.

You’re out of focus as you blink up at him.

“I’m sorry I yelled,” Clark murmurs. “I was scared. I got scared and I didn’t know how to handle it. And I took it out on you.”

“Clark…”

“I was wrong to be upset at you for being you. For being brave. For trying to help people.” He rests his forehead against yours. Your lips curve into half a smile when his curls brush your skin. “Do you have any idea how proud I am of you? Watching you out there—I didn’t know my heart could break and swell at the same time.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m sorry too. For what I said. I was angry, and it came out ugly. I know you were just trying to protect me.”

His hand moves down to your cheek. “Next time, I’ll try protecting you without treating you like something to hide away.”

Your smile grows gentler. “And I’ll try to remember that loving you means sometimes watching you fly away.”

Clark kisses your forehead. It tingles where his lips meet your skin. “You are the bravest person I know.”

“And you,” you murmur, curling deeper into his chest, “are the softest tank I’ve ever met.”

He huffs a laugh against your hair and your butterflies erupt in your gut at the sound. His arms tighten around you and you feel like you can barely breathe, but you don’t fight his hold. You stay like that, curled together on the couch in the dim light of a quiet apartment.

Outside, the city is still flashing with sirens and scattered lights. But you don’t look.

You stay where you are. With him.

#clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent imagine #clark kent fic #clark kent angst #clark kent x reader angst #clark kent fluff #clark kent x reader fluff #david corenswet #superman #superman x reader #superman imagine #superman fic #dcu #metropolis #clark kent fanfiction #fanfiction #x reader

1K notes · View notes

songbirdseung · 18 days ago

Text

NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE - YANG JUNGWON ᯓ★

"someone's gonna walk in and get the wrong idea" ≽^• ˕ • ྀི≼ y,jw x reader 𖹭 not exactly part two but a similar fic to "i'm not a kid" ˎˊ˗ this one's for all my anons that requested for more .ᐟ

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. enjoy

it was late into the evening. the bedroom lights were already dimmed, and the room is quiet. jungwon is lying in bed with a pillow keeping his head propped up. you, yn is currently perched on top of him and to others it could look very suspicious as you straddled your man. you were leaning forward onto him, back to the door. leaving a surprise to anyone who could possibly walk in.

what they wouldn't see is that you were holding tweezers in your hand. "can you keep still, won? i could poke your eyes"

you tried to sound serious and threatening but jungwon groaned dramatically and reach up for your wrist to stop you. "yn, please, don't"

"what do you mean? you asked me to pluck the stray hairs!"

"but you're not being very nice with it"

it's been a while since jungwon started making noises suspiciously close to whines, holding onto your thighs for dear life.

"can you not squeeze me like that? i'm not trying to aim for your eyeballs"

"my bad" jungwon muttered. "your legs are warm and the way you're uhm- positioned is quite distracting"

people never got to see this side of jungwon, not that they should because this was just between you two.

"you're about to cry and you're thinking like that?" you say as you continued to pluck at his innocent eyebrow hairs. "okay, one more and we're done"

just as you plucked out the last one, jungwon cries out one last time.

"FUU-"

and that's when the door flew open. "hey won, have you-"

poor jay, just wanted his charger back. stopping by the door with wide eyes.

seeing you straddling jungwon on the bed, your hair a mess and his shirt slightly rucked up. and to mention jungwon's teary eyes.

"oh. my. god" jay immediatly and very dramatically makes a turn, facing the other way. "i did not need to see any of that, i'm so sorry for not knocking"

"ay jay, it's not like that!"

"i want to scold you so bad but you were in the comfort of your own room and i was at fault and-" jay went on rambling, back still towards you and jungwon, refusing to look at you both.

"jay, relax. i was doing his eyebrows" holding up the tweezers even though he's not facing you two. holding it up like it was a badge of innocence.

jay cautiosuly turned around and walked over, examining jungwon's now neatly brows and his teary eyes. looking flustered from what he walked into or what he thought he walked into. "you were just grooming his brows?"

"yes, what the hell did you think, dummy?"

jay gave you a look, glancing between you and the postion you both were in, as if he's giving you a 'be for real' look. "what else, idiot?"

swatting him away as jungwon just laughs at the tiny bickering. "get out, jay"

to which jay gladly does, slamming the door behind him, showing you how scared you both made him.

"you think he believed us?"

jungwon smirks and shakes his head "no, babe"

jongseong [9:20] guys, don't EVER walk in jungwon's room without knocking

riki [9:20] no shi- it's basic manners?? shouldn't you know that, old man

jake [9:21] ?????

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen au #engene #enha #enhypen x reader #jungwon #yang jungwon #jungwon imagines #jungwon x reader #enhypen jungwon

1K notes · View notes

athenalvss · 2 months ago

Note

Wally west X batsis!reader please 🙏😩

Maybe where she's looking hot asf at a party Bruce is holding in the wayne manor ball room and all the JL and young justice and teen titans are they and someone's flirting with reader and he realises he needs to swoop in real fast. Dick, Roy, Jason, Kyle and Donna are his biggest wingmen

NERVOUS

summary: Wally is madly in love with you, but he's scared of you and your dad, but his friends try not to let that stop him.

pairing: Wally west x batsis!reader

part one- part two

note: idk what I did lol I tried to write smt cute but idk what happened to me. AND officially Wally west has a masterlist

open request - wally west masterlist

The crystal chandeliers in the living room shone like stars, and you, with that damn impeccable wine colored dress and the innate bearing of a Wayne, seemed unattainable to anyone, untouchable, as if you were the most valuable jewel in Gotham.

You were gorgeous, completely mesmerizing to anyone, but even more so to Wally. But it wasn't anything new to anyone; it wasn't the first time he'd looked at you like that. In fact, he'd been doing it for years.

He met you when you were both teenagers, a couple of years after becoming friends with Dick. You weren't yet an active part of the vigilante world; Bruce didn't want to risk anything happening to you, but it was only a matter of time before you made a place for yourself in his world, at least working from the Batcave, providing information and conducting major investigations.

But even then, at a young age, you were a whirlwind; sharp, brilliant, with that dangerous mix of charm and sarcasm that left him speechless.

And tonight, seeing you like this, with that dress that hugged your curves with lethal precision, with that presence, while you were laughing at something that idiot Atlantean ambassador said, I felt like I couldn't keep pretending anymore.

Because now you weren't just his teenage crush, you weren't two kids anymore. He was a grown man, and you were a beautiful woman. He had to do something. He couldn't breathe at the thought of someone else getting there first.

I had to do something. I couldn't just stand there like another spectator while someone else refilled your glass and said things he wished he'd whispered to you years ago.

I couldn't breathe at the thought of someone else getting there first. Of someone else stealing your smiles, your secrets, your nights.

"Would you stop staring at my sister?" Dick asked, appearing at his side.

Wally didn't take his eyes off you, still watching every inch of you. How the hell could he get close to you if every time he spoke he was just talking nonsense? Maybe you liked that half-fish guy? Or maybe... did you always have that mole on your right breast?

"You've already broken him, you asked him for a very difficult task, Dick," Jason announced from a corner, holding a glass.

"He hasn't blinked in three minutes," Roy added, chewing on something. "Literally. I'm worried about his nervous system."

Donna placed a hand on Wally's shoulder, with that trained calm she used when someone was about to explode. "We know you can do it. But if you need help... well, we're bored, and it's a worthy cause."

"Perfect," Jason said, crossing his arms. "This is officially a field operation."

—What? No, you don't need a gun to th——Wally looked at them, somewhere between frustrated and scared.

"No one mentioned a gun," Donna interrupted, already pulling a small transmitter from her purse. "Right, Jason?"

Silence.

Jason smiled. “Didn’t you want to get rid of that guy over there?”

—Yeah, but not like that! We're not going to shoot anyone. —Wally raised his hands nervously.

"Shoot him?" Jason let out a dry laugh. "Don't worry so much about the guy, focus on keeping up with my sister."

Wally looked at him as if he'd been stabbed straight through the ego. "What kind of motivation is that?"

— a realist, —Roy chimed in naturally as he looked you up and down from afar— She's so fine, and you're... well, you're you.

"Thanks, Roy," Wally replied with a bitter smile. "It's nice to have friends like that."

"We're not your friends right now, at least not me," Jason clarified. "You want to flirt with my sister, it's totally disgusting. And Roy, shut up."

Roy threw up his hands, offended but amused. "I only tell the truth. Do you want me to lie? Do you want me to tell him he has a chance without our help?"

"Yeah!" Wally exclaimed. "Lie to me a little! Some emotional support wouldn't hurt, you know?"

—Perfect, everyone shut up —Donna took a small transmitter out of her bag— Put this on, Wally

Wally looked at her with a mixture of surprise and resignation, while Donna skillfully adjusted the transmitter behind his ear. "What's this?" he asked, somewhat nervously.

"A direct channel to us," Donna replied with a reassuring smile. "We'll guide you in real time so you don't make a fool of yourself."

"Really?" Wally blinked in disbelief. "Is this to save me from myself?"

"Exactly," Jason crossed his arms with a wry smile. "Now you really have no excuses."

Roy leaned closer, his tone more serious. "We're here to make sure you don't die virgin."

"You're an idiot Roy." Dick looked at him seriously.

Donna stepped back, assessing him like a soldier before entering the battlefield. “Ready.”

"Already?" Wally asked, feeling like his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

"Okay. Give me two minutes," Donna said, turning toward the dance floor. "And you, breathe. Straighten your back. And for the love of the Titans... don't look at that mole again."

"I wasn't going to look at the mole!" Wally protested.

Dick just patted him on the shoulder. “Good luck, West.”

And then Donna moved forward. She crossed the room with the kind of confidence that could make politicians and aliens alike tremble. By the time she reached you, your glass was already half empty, and the Atlantean ambassador was rambling on about some unimportant maritime treaty.

"Shall I steal her from you for a second?" she asked, with a charming smile. She placed a hand on your back and gently guided you away from the Atlantean ambassador. You didn't ask any questions. You knew that if Donna pulled you out of a conversation, it was for a reason.

"I owe you one," you murmured.

"You'll pay me back," she replied with a half smile before disappearing into the crowd.

You turned to go back to the middle of the room and that's when you saw Wally, just passing by, drink in hand.

His eyes found you. He stopped.

"Hey," you said, before him. Had he always had those green eyes? oh god, he has a new freckle.

"Hey," he repeated, his voice steadier than he felt inside.

>Roy: He's in! We've got eye contact!

Jason: He shouldn't be talking nonsense.

Donna: Okay, let's let him breathe.

Dick: Shhh, turn it down. He's nervous.

"Are you having fun?" you asked with a genuine smile.

"Sort of. Not as much food as I expected," Wally replied without thinking. Then he laughed at himself. "Though... I think the night's looking up now."

Roy: There! Good one! Point for the unforced comment.

Jason: I give it half a point.

"Do you want to get some fresh air? We can go... to the garden, if you like," he suggested, as if he didn't want to miss the moment.

"Sure," you replied. "Besides, they made some nice arrangements in the garden, you have to appreciate them..."

idiot, idiot, idiot, what did I just say?

You walked together without saying much at first, through the French doors that led to the garden. The fresh air enveloped them with a faint scent of jasmine and damp earth. Inside, the party continued to echo in the distance.

Wally nervously ran a hand down the back of his neck as you leaned your arms on the stone railing overlooking the lower garden.

"It's a very nice view..." he murmured.

"Yes, it is," you replied softly, without looking at him. "If you think this view is great, you can't imagine what it looks like from my room." I just invited him to my room, shit

Roy:…

Donna: THAT'S IT GIRL, SHOW HIM!

Jason: I refuse to process it.

Dick: Don't go there, Wally, don't go fucking there!

Wally choked slightly on his own breath. “From your room… do you have the best view of Gotham?” he tried pathetically.

You shrugged, amused. “Depends on what you want to see” You leaned a little closer, enjoying the mix of nervousness and tenderness he exuded, "So... do you want to see the city with me from my room sometime?"

Wally swallowed, as if he was about to say something big.

Roy: IT'S NOW, IT'S NOW!!

Donna: Don't think about it anymore, just come closer!

Jason: If they kiss, I'm cutting the channel.

Dick: Shhh, shhh, Wally's going to—

They were a second away from getting close, from finally breaking the tension, finally going to be able to live in peace, damn those beautiful eyelashes…

"tsk, fucking disgusting."

You both turned. Damian. Standing like a shadow in the bushes. Arms crossed. “Stay away from my sister or I’ll bury you alive” face.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, visibly fed up.

Damian raised an eyebrow with absolute calm. "By keeping you from making stupid decisions."

Wally opened his mouth to defend himself, but Damian glared at him before any words came out. "Slowly back away from my sister..."

BONUS SCENE

In a secluded corner of the room, away from the hustle and bustle of string music, some League members share light conversation and moderate drinks. Barry Allen glides among them with his usual restrained energy, stopping next to Bruce, who watches silently from a vantage point.

His gaze is fixed on something beyond the crowd: on the garden, where his daughter and a young redhead in a suit are laughing too close to the edge.

Barry smiles, then follows her gaze. His expression changes slightly. "Oh, I get it."

"he's too close."

Barry was holding back a laugh at Bruce's intense concern for his daughter. "Come on, Bruce. He's nervous, not a danger. He's been avoiding her for years; her breathing by his side is progress."

Bruce finally turns his face toward Barry—Tell your nephew to stay away from my daughter, not to bother her.

"I really don't think it'll bother her. Oh look, she's getting closer."

Bruce discreetly reaches for the communicator hidden in his ear. He taps a channel. He doesn't change his tone of voice.

"Damian, now."

2K notes · View notes

poisonofthepaint · 3 months ago

Text

thinking of you

jack broke up with you because he said you needed someone younger. yet, he's still offended when he hears you're going on a date with someone else. you show up to his apartment to set the record straight.

cw: MDNI, make up sex to the max, pinv, no protection, kind of angsty but like not really, reader is independent and sort of snappy (for good reason), nipple sucking, pet names (angel, honey, sweetheart), not sure what else lmk if you see anything!

a/n: i wrote this off two beers so i'm gonna say i proofread it, but who knows...

wc: 2k

Jack didn't get pissed off. Sure, he would get mildly annoyed. He could snap. But he was never filled with unbridled rage. He could contain himself, calm himself down. He learned it in the military. He knew you couldn’t fight as well if you were angry, it clouded your judgement too much, you have to keep, at least a little bit, of a level head.

But tonight, Jack was pissed off. Robby had told him you had a date tonight. He told Jack over text, saying he, ‘figured he should know.” Jack couldn’t decide if he was thankful for the message or not.

That is what he said to you, when it ended. That you needed someone your own age. That you needed to get out there and act your age. It wasn’t good to work with someone and date them, act older than you need to. It was self-defense, he later realized. He was insecure about himself, and what he could or could not give you, so he ended it. He couldn’t believe you had listened to his incoherent ramblings. What he said made no sense, and he knew that now, but he also knew he had to take a step back and leave you the hell alone. He had fucked up, that was for sure. Begging for you back, when you had no reason to come back, would be even more fucked up.

He was regretting that mentality right now, all he wanted to do was call you. To tell you to come home. To come back to him. That guy didn’t know how to treat you, he didn’t know what you needed. He was only there to get in your pants. You were far too fucking intelligent for some immature douchebag. Jack knew what you needed, he was the only one who knew how to treat you right. He would give anything for you. This kid would not. Jack didn’t even need to know his name to know that.

Jack’s finger hovered over the call button on your contact. He tried to think of some emergency to get you to come see him instead of being on that date. But he couldn’t think of anything. There was no reason, fake or real, why you shouldn’t be on that date.

He sighs, puts down his phone, sits in his recliner. His cushy chair, one of the only things he has splurged on in his life, faces the window, which overlooks the city. The buildings sparkle at him. It’s around seven, usually he’d be at work by now, but it was his day off. He wishes it wasn’t, he wishes that he had something to distract him. He thinks about grabbing his go bag, thinks about changing into what he wears under his scrubs and telling Shen and Ellis to just leave him the hell alone and let him work. But, he hears you in the back of his head, telling him to slow down, telling him to wait a moment, to sit with what he’s thinking instead of shoving it down.

So that’s what he does. He sits. And he thinks. And he fucking prays to whoever is listening. That you’re safe. That you’re having an okay time. That maybe you’ll come back. Even though he’s a piece of shit. Even though he’s the one who told you to leave. You’re just following his orders, after all.

Three small, basically unhearable, knocks strike his door. He pushes off his chair with a sigh, thankful he didn’t take off his prosthetic yet. He figures it’s a neighbor, he lives by a lot of older women who tend to check up on him.

He opens the door with a force, but his eyes get heavy when he realizes it’s you standing there.

“Did he fucking hurt you?” Jack thunders.

“What? How do you even know where I was?”

“Answer me.”

“No, he didn’t hurt me. He just–”

“You’re scaring me a bit, sweetheart.”

You let out a long breath, Jack has both of his hands on your shoulders, giving you the eye exam of a lifetime.

“He didn’t hurt me, he’s just not you. He’s too, spritely. Too eager. I don’t know.”

Jack fights a smile, he bites the inside of his cheek. “No one is me.”

“Not the time to be fucking cocky, Jack. We need to seriously talk.”

The smile he was fighting fades from his face. He becomes pale, his heart is tachy.

“You fucked me up real good. You told me I was wrong about something that felt so right–” you say, crossing your arms and staring. You’ve entered the apartment at this point. You stand at the island in the kitchen.

He cuts you off. “I was wrong. I’m wrong. You’re what I need. I need you more than I need work, and I’ve never said that about anything.”

Jack swipes a hand over his face, crossing the room to come stand in front of you. “I was scared, I was being a fucking pussy. Worrying about what people would think, worrying about you.”

“I don’t need anyone to worry about me.” you state firmly.

“I know that. I know that. Please, give it another go with me. I won’t fuck it up. I won’t. I see what it’s like now. I see it. I hear it. Loud and clear.” he’s inches from your face, holding you at your hips.

You don’t move just yet. Your eyes scan his, you're used to his eye contact by now. You’re searching for any signs of lying, any signs of unseriousness, but there isn’t any. Jack gives you a sharp nod. His eyes are so sharp, you think that they could cut daggers into yours.

You swiftly nod back, just once. Up and down. And that’s all it takes.

Jack’s lips are on yours before you can inhale. All teeth and tongue, he wastes no time showing you how much he missed you. The grip at your hips tightens, and he pulls you closer to him, so that your hips grind against his. So that your stomach can feel his abs through the worn gray cotton t-shirt he has on. You try not to notice that it’s the shirt you would sleep in when you slept over, but you do. Because he’s a sentimental man, because he’s obviously been punishing himself with his memories of you.

He comes up for air and shakes his head at you. “Thank you.” he kisses you again.

“Thank me?” you query.

“Thank you for coming back. You know what I need.”

“You know what I need. I never had to fucking ask for anything. You just knew. Before I did.” you admit.

“You know me too. You know me better than anyone does, angel.”

You pull his face back to yours. Eager to feel his lips after a long five months.

He grabs your hips again, hoisting you up onto him. You wrap around his midsection. The friction from your jeans rubs you just right and you moan into Jack.

“Tell me more,” is all he says in response.

You groan. “I didn’t miss your old man jokes.”

“Yes you did, that’s why you’re here.”

He lays you back in the bed and doesn’t give you a chance to respond. The kisses become more fervent as he pushes the gym shorts off of himself. You make quick work of your jeans, unbuttoning them and pushing them down, along with your underwear.

You and Jack didn’t need to talk it through any more. You were on the same page. You just understood it. You two could go hours without speaking, and still say a million words to each other.

It’s like at work, all you had to do was shoot him a look and he understood. When a patient wasn’t going to make it, when something suspicious was going on, when something hysterical was going on, but you couldn’t laugh. You didn’t need words to convey how you were feeling. And if your eyes weren’t going to tell him tonight, your cunt definitely was. You could feel yourself dripping onto his sheets.

“I don’t think I have any condoms. I–” Jack’s eyes dance around his minimalistic bedroom.

“I don’t care. I’m clean, you’re clean. Please, I need it.”

Jack doesn’t need to be told twice. He lines himself up, groans at the wet spot on the bed. And then he goes in. One long, deep, thrust. He bottoms out. You throw your head back onto the pillows before you’re reminded of his ‘thing’. Your eyes snap up at him and he grins. A cheshire smile. One that you couldn’t forget if you tried.

His cock curves inside you like you’re two puzzle pieces. You clench around him until he has to ask you to let up.

He sets his pace. Long, deep, hard. Jack wasn’t one to fuck fast. He needed to enjoy it. To soak it all in. To feel you, to remember every inch of your walls. He wanted to always remember each individual fuck. What sets them apart? How did you look when you came this time versus the other fifty times? He once told you he thought about starting a sex journal so he could become the best at getting you off.

Jack has about zero thoughts in his head that don’t surround around making you finish. He wants it like a prisoner wants an escape. He feels like he just saw his parole officer and they set him free, or put him on house arrest, he’s sure he’s not completely out of the dog house, but none of that matters to him now.

He’s inside you, and you’re making the noises he’s dreamt about every night since you left. “That’s it, pretty girl. That’s it.”

You clench again, hard. “I wanna– fuck– be on top.”

He doesn’t respond, just flips you over.

You straddle his waist and he pulls you in closer, sucking on your pert nipple. Jack guides your hips up and down before giving into what he really wants to do.

Instead of moving you, he holds you still, opting to drive his cock up into you. You hiss, make a noise between a groan and a squeal. You bury your head into his shoulder and it moves you impossibly closer to him.

He shifts so that one arm has a hold of your waist. The other comes between your two bodies, searching for your clit. He finds it, without looking, and rubs sharp circles that follow his pace on it. Your head flies back.

“Fuck I’m—”

“Yup, me too, honey. C’mon, let me have it. Let it all go.”

You gasp at the feeling. It rushes out of you almost as soon as you recognize the tight knot in your stomach. You can’t control your noises anymore, and neither can Jack.

He comes with you, burying his cock into your heat. He groans, over and over, and then pants.

You hum against him, resting your sweaty forehead against his. He moves so he can place a kiss on yours, a sweet one, to tell you you’re okay.

Neither of you make any effort to move, pleased to stay intertwined after being separated.

“What was his name?”

“Here come the questions. Can’t you let me enjoy this?”

“Never,” Jack quips. He shoots you a look, waiting for his answer.

“His name is Jack.”

His face turns pale, all jokes leave his brain, “You went on a date with someone who has my name?”

“I thought it would make the transition easier! I was hoping you wouldn’t ask!” you shake your head in shame.

“How old was he?”

“Oh my god. That I am not answering. It doesn’t matter. The whole time I just thought about you, and your bullshit excuses for ending it. Telling me I need someone younger, c’mon.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Forgotten. We’re here now. Just don’t ever fucking do it again. I hate working day shift.” your face lights up. “Is that how you found out? Did Robby say something to you?”

Your mouth falls open at Jack’s cackling.

“So old men gossip too, got it. This is fucked.”

Jack shakes his head at you, calms himself down. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re here.”

“You don’t have to. I know.”

#jack abbot x reader #dr abbot x reader #jack abbot smut #jack abbot #jack abbot fanfic #the pitt fanfiction #jack ⋆⁺₊❅. ㅤ

1K notes · View notes

wtfishisgoingon · 1 month ago

Text

Post-canon Wei ying’s dynamic with the juniors is so funny to me bcs these kids do not understand how terrifying this man is. They’re like “oh Wei wuxian yeah he’s a fucking idiot” meanwhile everybody older than them remembers him slaughtering thousands and commanding an army of ghosts against the Wens. Everyone who was older remembers that he was the only reason they won the sunshot campaign.

And I think it would be so funny the moment that some mission goes south and Wei Ying has to take control of the situation in order to save them and be actually fights for the first time in front of them.

These kids would be like bro tf as the silly guy they all these suddenly exploded with resentful energy - like we know he can control the energy itself in a combative way (eg. He spears wen chao and wen zhuliu in the show), so he’s like tearing these enemies apart and the juniors are just watching.

And then at the end he turns around and his eyes are still red and chenqing is in his hands and they’re all just staring at him in bewilderment. Ofc (being the idiot he is) Wei Ying immediately freaks outs and assumes they’re all disgusted by him.

That is until Jingyi crashes out and was like “THAT WAS SO COOL WHAT THE HELL” and Jin Ling is just mad that he always makes them fight when he can obviously hand himself. Wei Ying is dumbfounded for a sec but then he’s really happy because he was so scared for a sec there.

The juniors are Wei Yings number one fans nobody can convince me otherwise.

#the juniors when they realise Wei wuxian is scary for a reason #lan sizhui is like yeah that’s my dad #lan sizhui #lan yuan #lan jingyi #jin ling #ouyang zizhen #the juniors #mdzs headcannons #mxtx mdzs #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #yiling laozu #yiling patriarch #wei ying #wei wuxian #ramblings #I really love this book

942 notes · View notes

keeryhours · 4 months ago

Text

teen pregnancy series - steve harrington part 2

Steve Harrington x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Teen Pregnancy Series Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

Summary:

Part 1

You find yourself pregnant with your best friend Nancy’s boyfriend’s baby after a drunken mistake.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), unprotected p in v, pregnancy, traumatic birth, pregnancy complications, angst

Word Count: 16.4k

A/N:

Please read part 1 first if you haven’t yet! I worked so hard on this one so I’m excited to have the finished thing posted for you guys! Thanks again to the besties @punkrockmlchael @the-witty-pen-name @lesservillain @glassbxttless 💕

Friday came much too soon. You dressed nice for school, not bothering to hide the belly. You wore a little dress that showed off your figure, and a pair of boots. Steve smiled when he saw you, his eyes roaming your body.

“You look beautiful,” he said as you climbed into his car. “They’re probably going to like you more than they like me.”

School had become hell. It helped that Steve had your back. Steve was getting much less shit than you were. In fact, most of the guys at school thought he was something of a legend. But when you were alone, your classmates were vicious.

Someone you never expected to find comfort in was Carol Perkins.

“Talk to her like that again and I’ll kick your ass.”

It was seemingly out of nowhere. One second some kids were making rude comments, then the next thing you knew Carol slid up beside you, linking her arm in yours and telling them off. You were confused as she stepped off with her head held high, taking you with her.

“Um…”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’m not gonna let anyone give you shit.”

It wasn’t long before you were spending most every minute of your day with either Carol or Steve. Even Steve was a little skeptical of Carol’s intentions, but she seemed sincere.

And she wasn’t as bad as you, Nancy, and Barb had thought. She was sweet - something you never thought you’d say - and she was funny. And she really did have your back. She even stared down Nancy giving you dirty looks in chem.

After school Friday, you followed Steve out to his car just like every day. Only neither of you were taking this lightly. You’d finally be meeting the Harringtons, and Steve had appropriately scared you for the dinner.

“Just letting you know, they’re awful,” he said, talking with his hands as he drove. “Like, really awful. My dad is an ass. My mom just lets him. It’s a whole thing.”

He was doing nothing to help your ‘meeting the parents’ nerves. “Are they really that bad?”

“They’re pretty bad.” He sighed. “I think they’re trying to make an effort, though. They want you and the baby to be around. They’re actually a little excited for their first grandchild.”

You smiled a little at that, hand resting on your belly. It was evident through your clothes and you didn’t attempt to hide it now. “I hope they like me.”

“They probably will,” he said. “Like I said, probably more than they like me.”

You were surprised at just how nice the Harrington’s house was. Steve pulled into the driveway of a gorgeous two story home with a large pool in the back. He gave you a nervous smile and squeezed your hand like well, here we go.

You walked hand in hand to the front door, Steve letting himself in. The smell of dinner hit you immediately, making your mouth water - was that steak? - and your stomach rumbled.

“Hungry?” Steve laughed.

“Starving,” you admitted.

“Well, good. I’m sure my mom cooked a feast.”

As you walked into the kitchen, a well dressed woman stood over the stove, her hair pulled back tightly. A man in a suit was leaning against the island bar, talking to her. They both looked over as you and Steve walked in, and the woman gave you a polite smile.

“Steve,” she said. “So this must be…”

Steve said your name for you, introducing you to both his parents. “This is my mom and dad.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” his mother said, reaching for your hand. “I’m Melissa.”

You took her hand and smiled politely as you shook it. You waited for his father to introduce himself, but he said nothing. Finally, his mother spoke up again. “And this is Richard, Steve’s father.”

You could feel their gazes drop to your stomach immediately as you dropped your arm. You suddenly wanted to cover up, wishing you had worn the sweatshirt again, but it was too late for that now.

Steve surprised you by reaching over and placing a hand on your stomach, too. He looked at you like you were the only person in the room. “Are you okay?” he asked, quiet enough for only you to hear.

You nodded, giving him a grateful smile. “I’m okay.”

Steve’s hand lingered protectively on your belly for a moment longer before he moved, turning back to face his parents. “So…what’s for dinner?”

Dinner turned out to be steaks, with mashed potatoes and green beans on the side. Your stomach growled with hunger as you eyed the food being placed on the table - eating for two was correct, because you had been infinitely hungrier the past few months.

You all took a seat at the table, Steve’s dad sitting at the head of the table with his wife next to him, Steve on the other side with you at the end of the table. You were so relieved it was time to eat, it distracted you from your nerves as you dug into your plate.

“So,” Steve’s mother began, looking at you. “Steve tells us you’re very smart.”

You blushed, looking over at Steve, who smiled sheepishly at you. “I…I’m in some advanced classes, yes.”

“College plans?” she asked, almost as if she had forgotten about the pregnancy entirely.

Your heart sunk in your chest. “I was planning to go to Emerson. But now…”

An awkward silence settled over the room. The only sounds to be heard were the dishes clinking together as you all ate. It was Steve’s dad who spoke next. “What do the two of you plan to do about all this?” he asked, getting straight to the point as he gestured between you and Steve.

You froze again, but Steve spoke up. “What do you mean, dad?”

“I mean,” he said, looking sternly at both of you. “I don’t think either of you understand the gravity of the situation you’re in.” He looked at you. “You’re an only child, yes?”

“Yes,” you confirmed.

“And so are you,” he said to Steve. “So, what do either of you know about babies? And how hard it will be to take care of one?”

No one said anything. You weren’t sure if there was anything to be said to that.

“Not only that,” he continued, “but how will you support yourselves and a baby?”

He was asking questions you truly didn’t know the answer to. “I was thinking I could-“ Steve began, but his father cut him off.

“Thinking you could work for me?”

“Well, yeah,” he said. “We had talked about it-“

“Son, you’re welcome to come work with me. But you’re on your own. This child is your responsibility, I expect you to take care of both the baby and her.”

Steve looked at you. He reached over the table and took your hand. “I can do that.”

His father nodded. “Good.” Another beat of silence. “Do you both plan to finish school?”

“Yes,” you said quickly. “The baby won’t be born until after graduation, so…”

“Yeah, we’re both going to finish the year,” Steve said. He looked at you. “She still wants to go to college, maybe…after the baby is born,”

You nodded. “Yeah…if I can.”

“That’s good,” Steve’s mother said, giving you a smile. “I’m glad you have big dreams and ambitions.”

You weren’t sure if she was proud of you, or thought you were naive. “Community college, at least.”

“How far along are you?” she asked.

“15 weeks.”

Steve’s parents’ eyes widened. “Almost halfway there,” his mom said, her voice nervous. “We didn’t realize it was that far along.”

Steve’s hand rested on your knee beneath the table.

“She’s been taking good care of herself,” he said. “Going to all her appointments, taking her vitamins.”

“Well that’s the bare minimum, isn’t it, son?” his dad said.

Steve clenched his jaw. He looked like he wanted to argue, but didn’t. “She’s doing a good job.”

“Look, son,” he said. “There’s a lot more to having a baby than just having it. You have to worry about diapers, formula if she doesn’t or can’t breastfeed, clothes and supplies-“

“Dad, I know.”

“I don’t know that you do.” His father’s stern voice commanded the entire room. You felt extremely uncomfortable. “I can’t believe you, son. You’re a Harrington. And look at the mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Richard-“ his mother said, but he kept talking as if she hadn’t said anything.

“You’re barely 18 years old. Still in high school. And now you’ve got some girl pregnant?” You felt so small at that - some girl - you shrunk into yourself, wishing you could disappear.

“Dad.”

“No, Steve, I don’t want to hear it. You’ve disgraced this family. You’ve embarrassed not only me, but your poor mother as well. Do you know how you’re being talked about down at the clubhouse? It’s humiliating for both me and your mother.”

Steve gripped his fork tightly. He thought about stabbing it into his father’s hand. “Those people do nothing but gossip anyway-“

“Steven!” he snapped. Steve jumped at the sound of his government name, feeling like a child again as he shrunk under the harsh gaze of his father. “You are not to talk to me that way. Do you want a job with me to take care of your little family or not?”

Silence. “I do.”

“Then act like it.”

“Yes, sir.”

It was almost disturbing to see Steve give up like that. You felt terrible for him - your dad hadn’t taken the pregnancy news well, but neither of your parents were strict. Not like this. The silence left behind after that exchange was deafening.

If you hadn’t been pregnant and starving, you would have lost your appetite. Instead you cleared your plate, and could have gone for seconds if someone offered. After dinner you helped Mrs. Harrington clean up, washing the dishes alongside her - which seemed to earn her approval. You could hear a heated conversation between Steve and his father muffled from the living room.

Once the dishes had been done and the dining room and kitchen were spotless, Steve’s parents told you goodbye. “Thank you for coming to dinner,” Mrs. Harrington said. “We enjoyed having you.” Mr. Harrington said nothing.

“Thank you for having me,” you said. You smiled at them, feeling their eyes once again on your stomach now that you were standing. It was something you were having to get used to in general. Everyone looked.

When Steve placed his hand on your back and led you out of the house and into the fresh air of the night, you took a deep breath that you’d needed for hours. “Well. Glad that’s over.”

Steve laughed, opening the passenger door for you. He took your hand to help you lower yourself into the seat. “Told you they were bad.”

He climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door. “Yeah, your dad was an asshole,” you said. It made him laugh again.

As he started the engine and began driving back towards your house, a silence settled, although this was a much more comfortable one. Eventually he reached over and took your hand in his, which surprised you but you weren’t complaining. It was just friendly. Nothing romantic between you.

“I’m glad you came,” he said. “Even though they seemed like assholes-“

“Your mom was fine!”

“-believe me,” he continued, “you earned points in their book for even having the balls to show up and take their shit.”

You smiled. “You really think they didn’t hate me?”

“Oh, they loved you. That’s just how they show it.”

It wasn’t long before the BMW pulled up outside your home. The lights were on inside, casting a warm glow over the yard. “Want me to walk you in?” Steve asked.

“Sure.”

Steve followed you up the walkway and to the door, his hand resting on your back as if you might hurt yourself without his help. You entered the house to find both of your parents in the living room, watching TV.

“Steve!” your mother said. “How are you?”

“I’m doing well,” he said. “Just making sure she gets home safely.”

“Well, we appreciate that.” Your mom smiled. Steve gave you a tight hug, one that you were surprised by. He hadn’t been this affectionate with you.

“I’ll see you later,” he said. You watched as he turned and left, feeling like he was taking a piece of you with him, too. You wanted to reach for him, to grasp his hand and bring him back, bring him upstairs and to your room. It wasn’t even sex you were after (although being pregnant had made you super horny), but even just to be held. Steve made you feel safe, cared for.

But you couldn’t do that. It would be weird, for one. It was weird enough that you wanted him in that way. You went upstairs and took your shower before settling into bed - drifting off to thoughts of Steve.

—

Things were getting easier. Well, for the most part. You were 18 weeks pregnant now, bump perfectly round and visible in all your clothes, even the sweatshirt now. Steve never left your side, taking your safety as the most important thing.

You and Carol had grown tight, too. The most unlikely friendship turned out to be the best. Carol was amazing. She was like having Scary Dog Privileges. No one dared fuck with her, or you, now.

“Wheeler is a stuck up bitch,” Carol said as you passed Nancy giving you the dirtiest look once again. “Don’t mind her.”

“I just…feel bad,” you muttered, holding your books tight to your chest. “I did kind of fuck her over.”

Carol shrugged. “Shit happens. They weren’t gonna last anyway.”

“You don’t think?” you asked, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, definitely not.” She scoffed. “Harrington thought she was the best thing to ever happen to him, but they would have been over by graduation.”

“Why?”

“Well, they just weren’t right for each other, for one.” She pushed a red curl behind her ear. “Harrington never could have been happy with her long term. She’s too…goody goody.”

It was true. You’d never seen Nancy break a rule in her life.

“You, however,” she said, giving you a playful smirk, “would be perfect for him.”

You blushed deeply. “That’s not true. He doesn’t even like me in that way.”

“Sure,” she said, looking at you with a smile that said she knew something you didn’t.

After school on the way home with Steve, he seemed like he had something on his mind. It wasn’t like Steve to not be chatting you up on the way home, telling you every detail of his day and asking you a million questions about how you and the baby felt. He tapped his fingers nervously on the steering wheel, eyes locked on the road.

“…What’s up?” you finally asked, having had enough of the silence.

Steve looked over at you like you’d surprised him. “What do you mean?”

“You look like you have something on your mind,” you said. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” He tapped his fingers along with the song on the radio. “I was just thinking…”

“About what?”

Steve sighed. “I was just…so, we’re having a baby together, right?”

“Yeah…?”

“And most people who have a baby together are…you know, together.”

You just looked at him. “What are you saying?”

He sighed again, hands tightening on the steering wheel. “I’m saying…maybe we should try being together? Like, a couple?” He glanced over at you. “For the baby, of course,” he added quickly.

“Steve…”

“No, it’s okay. It was a stupid idea.”

You felt conflicted. On one hand, you wanted to be with Steve, something you hadn’t even realized about yourself. You wanted to try this. But you knew Steve was only asking for the baby’s sake, not because he liked you in any kind of way. And not to even mention how Nancy would feel about it. You cared a lot about how Nancy felt. It was almost like you thought there was any chance of salvaging your friendship.

“It’s not stupid,” you said quietly. “It’s just…Nancy…”

“No, no, yeah. You’re totally right.” He gestured with his hand, drawing a clear line. “We’re just co-parents. That’s all.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. The car fell into an awkward silence. You felt bad. You wanted to take it back, to tell Steve you wanted to be with him. You wanted to kiss him on the mouth and be touched like he’d touched you that one night. You wanted to do those things with him again. You wanted him to love you.

The BMW pulled up outside your house, but you didn’t get out right away. You debated saying something about it, changing your mind and telling Steve you liked him, but he spoke first.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I even brought that up,” he said. “It’s not like…I mean, we aren’t interested in each other in that way anyway, right? It was a dumb idea. Just forget about it.”

His words struck you in the chest, making your heart ache. You had started to suspect that maybe Steve did like you, but his words put an end to those silly thoughts. How could he? You were nothing like Nancy, not really, despite being her best friend for many years. Nancy was better than you in every way.

“Yeah,” you said. “It’s fine, I know you didn’t mean it or anything.”

Something crossed Steve’s face, but he didn’t say anything else. “Call me if you need anything, yeah?” he said instead, the same thing he said most times he dropped you off.

“Okay. I will.” You climbed out of the car, holding your emotions inside as you reached your front door and unlocked it with your key. You turned to see Steve still waiting there, watching to make sure you got inside safely. It only made it hurt worse, the way you wished you could run into his arms and kiss him like you’d dreamed of since that night. But you couldn’t. He wasn’t yours.

He wasn’t yours.

—

You had been counting down to the 20 week appointment since you first accepted the pregnancy and allowed yourself to feel excited. It was the big one - the anatomy scan, where they’d see if everything was progressing the way it should, and if you were having a boy or a girl.

Steve was buzzing with excitement when he picked you up that morning. He handed you a hot chocolate from your favorite place as you got into the car.

“What’s the occasion?” you teased with a smile.

“You know what’s the occasion,” he laughed. “Are you as excited as I am?”

“I don’t know, that’s tough to beat.”

Steve had been talking about it even more than you had. He had a calendar where he was crossing off every day until your due date, and to this appointment. He was probably the most involved dad you’d ever seen, and the baby wasn’t even here yet.

“My mom’s meeting us at the doctor’s office after school,” you said. “She wanted to be there.”

“My mom asked if she could come.”

Your eyes widened. “She did?”

“Yeah.” He started driving to school. “I told her I didn’t think it was a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Would you have wanted her there?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“I mean…” you thought. “I wouldn’t have minded, I don’t think.”

“Really?”

“Well, she is the baby’s grandmother…”

Those words fell heavily onto Steve’s shoulders. “Yeah.”

“But maybe we can tell them in a fun way. Get a little cake or something.”

Steve smiled at you before he turned back to the road. “That’s cute. Yeah, we could do that. I’m sure she’d like it.”

“After the appointment,” you said, “we’ll stop at the bakery.”

The school day really dragged by. You were so excited to get out of there and go to your appointment, every class felt like it was 5 hours long. Steve felt the same way, complaining through the whole day and all of lunch.

“I just wanna knooow,” he whined, leaning back in his seat in the cafeteria. “Like, we’ve been waiting so long.”

“Oh my god, Harrington, we get it,” Tommy said, rolling his eyes. “We get that you’re excited about your kid.”

“Oh, stop,” Carol said, shoving Tommy’s arm. “Let them be excited. It’s exciting.” She gave you a reassuring smile and squeezed your hand. “You guys talk about it as much as you want to.”

Tommy scoffed. “Really? You’re outnumbering me?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Sorry, Hagan, majority rules,” Steve teased. “I get to talk about my kid all day. You’re just jealous, anyway.”

“Jealous?” Tommy said, incredulous, his mouth dropping open. “I am not jealous you’re having a kid in high school.”

“Sure, sure.”

After lunch, you and Carol walked to your lockers together like you did every day. Only she passed hers, following you all the way to yours and leaning against the closed one next to you.

“Can I go with you?” she asked.

You furrowed your brow, slowing as you took books out of your locker. “Go with me where?”

“To your doctor’s appointment, silly?” she popped her bubblegum, looking at you like the question was obvious. “Can I come?”

“You- why?”

“Because it’s exciting!” she squealed, grabbing your arms. You caught the attention of Nancy and Barb from across the hallway, who both gave you dirty looks. Carol didn’t even notice them. “I wanna find out if I’m gonna be auntie to a little boy or a girl. I think it’s a girl.”

You hadn’t even realized Carol cared so much about your pregnancy. “I…I mean, yeah, you can come.”

“Yes!” she cheered. “I can’t wait to be able to go shopping. I’m gonna spoil them so much, you have no idea.”

After school, Steve surprised you by your locker, making you jump and place a hand over your belly. “Jesus, Steve.”

“Sorry,” he said. “But are you excited? Are you ready to go?”

You closed the locker with all your stuff in it, turning the dial to lock it. “Yes. I’m ready. Carol’s coming, too.”

He looked like he might have a question about that, but he shrugged his shoulders instead. “Okay. The more the merrier.”

Nancy and Barb watched as Steve placed a hand on your round belly, 20 weeks now and no longer fitting into any of your old clothes. Your mom had taken you out shopping for some maternity clothes, which you rejected at first because they all looked like old lady clothes. Ultimately you ended up in a pair of maternity jeans with a stretchy band in the front, and a wardrobe of Steve’s t-shirts he so graciously let you borrow, just oversized enough to fit over the belly.

He didn’t care who was watching as he took the minute to rub his large hand over your stomach, smiling at you with such affection it made your heart beat fast. “I’m really excited,” he said, just loud enough for you to hear. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Your heart swelled. You wanted to say something -

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Your own thoughts shocked you. Where did that come from?

“I’m excited too,” you said instead. Your hand rested on top of his. You could practically feel Nancy and Barb burning a hole into the back of your head. Steve didn’t even notice them. He just smiled back at you.

“Let’s go,” he said. He put his hand on your lower back and guided you out of the building, not caring if anyone was looking (they were). Carol was waiting by the car, her face breaking out into a huge grin when you and Steve approached. Tommy stood beside her, looking much less excited.

“This is so exciting!” Carol squealed, grabbing your hands. “It’s a girl, I know it.”

“I think it’s a boy,” Tommy muttered, and you smiled - seems like he was more invested than he let on.

“You just want to be his favorite,” Carol said, elbowing him in the ribs.

“We’re gonna follow you,” Tommy said, swinging his keys around his finger. “So whenever you guys are ready.”

Steve helped you get into the passenger seat - you needed a little help these days. He got into the driver’s seat and turned some music on, pulling out of the school parking lot. Tommy’s car followed.

At the office, your mom’s car was waiting right out front. She smiled when she saw you, but you could tell she was feeling emotional. She pulled you into a hug when you got out of the car, holding you close.

“Still can’t believe my baby is having a baby,” she said, sniffling. You hugged her back tightly. Becoming a mother yourself opened your eyes to a lot of things about your own mother.

Your entourage took up a lot of room in the tiny waiting room. Steve sat on one side of you, your mom on the other, and Tommy and Carol across from you. When the nurse called you back, they all followed. The nurse seemed a little surprised, but didn’t say anything.

She did your vitals first, taking your temperature and blood pressure. She looked a little concerned as she took the blood pressure cuff off. “Have you had high blood pressure before?”

You looked up at her, confused. “No.”

“Hm.” She wrote something down in your chart. Steve looked instantly terrified, looking between you to the nurse to your mother, who looked equally as nervous.

“Is that bad?” Steve asked.

“The doctor will discuss it with you,” the nurse said politely, which did not satisfy Steve whatsoever, but he didn’t press the subject.

Steve stayed right by your side as you waddled into the exam room, your mom and friends following behind you. Steve helped you up onto the exam table. You cradled your belly in your arms, feeling the immense love for the tiny little baby already.

It wasn’t long before the ultrasound technician came in, wheeling an ultrasound machine. An external one this time, thank god. “Good afternoon!” she said, giving a huge smile to everyone in the room. “I see we have a party going on in here.”

She instructed you to pull your shirt up as she prepared the machine. She squirted the cold gel onto your belly, pressing the wand hard into your skin and moving it around as she tried to find a good view of the baby. Steve sat right next to you, holding your hand tightly. His eyes were glued to the screen. Everyone’s were.

The small baby popped up on the screen, looking more like a baby than you’d ever seen it. It was real, it felt real - that was a baby. Your baby. Yours and Steve’s. A little Harrington.

Steve’s free hand shot up and covered his mouth as he took in the sight of his child on the screen. Tears welled in his eyes, and he was shaking. He squeezed your hand, and you squeezed his back. Your mom had also started crying, Carol watching with her hand over her chest, even Tommy was moved.

The tech took measurements of every body part, logging them in your chart. Everyone just watched the process, watching the baby moving around on the screen until the moment you’d all been waiting for finally came.

“Do you want to know the gender?” she asked, smiling at each person in the room.

“Yes!” you and Steve both said together. You looked at each other, Steve smiling and a giggle escaping your lips.

“Alright then,” the tech smiled. She moved the wand, then wrote something in the chart again. “You’re having a baby girl.”

The whole room erupted into excitement. But when Steve looked at you, it was like you were the only two people in the room.

“A daughter,” he said, like he was in awe. “We’re having a daughter.”

“Yeah, we are,” you said as the tears finally fell down your cheeks. Steve reached up and wiped them away with his thumb.

“I can’t believe it,” he whispered. “This is the best day of my life. So far.”

That made your heart soar. You squeezed his hand again, and he held yours with both of his, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing it. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for this. This is the best gift I ever could have hoped for.”

“Steve…” you said, tears falling even faster now.

“Don’t cry, please.” He wiped your tears away again. “Just…thank you.”

After the ultrasound, the tech left and you were left waiting for the doctor. The room was buzzing with excitement over the news, everyone talking all at once.

“I can’t believe I’m having a granddaughter,” your mom said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “Reminds me of when I was pregnant with you.”

You imagined what it might be like one day to be supporting your daughter - the one growing in your belly now, this tiny little creature. It was hard to imagine her as a real human being who would grow into her own person one day. You hoped she wouldn’t be having a baby in high school, at least.

“Yeah, well,” Steve said, “if any guy comes within 100 feet of her I’m beating him with a stick.”

“Ohmygod,” Carol said. “We have to go shopping. There’s so much cute stuff for baby girls. Do you have anything yet?”

“Not really,” you admitted. You had been mostly waiting for this appointment - it’s like it hadn’t felt real before. Now, it was real.

“That’s okay,” she said. “We’ll go get all kinds of stuff.”

Steve rubbed your belly as everyone kept talking, like he was in his own little world. Just him and his baby girl, moving beneath his palm. The movements were soothing, relaxing you.

Finally the doctor walked in, greeting everyone with a smile. She scanned through your chart before speaking. “I see you had some high blood pressure today.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I’ve never had that before.”

“We’re going to keep an eye on that,” she said. “I want to see you here again next week, okay?”

“Next week?” you asked, confused. Your appointments had been monthly until now.

“Yes,” she said. “High blood pressure can be a sign of a lot of things, some small and some big. I just want to keep an eye on it.”

“Is everything okay?” Steve asked, interrupting the conversation. “Is she okay? Is the baby?”

“There’s no reason to worry right now,” she said, trying to calm Steve. “If there’s something more serious going on, we’ll catch it.”

Steve begrudgingly accepted that answer. He wasn’t trying to be a total asshole, he was just scared. But the appointment concluded after that, and then all of you were walking out of the building together.

“I’ll see you at home, honey,” your mom said, giving you a tight hug. “Drive home safe,” she added, pointing to Steve.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, saluting.

“I’ll call you,” Carol said, pulling you into a hug. “Love you.”

When only you and Steve were left, he helped you into the car again. He started driving towards town. “How are you feeling? About all of this?”

“I’m happy,” you said, hand rubbing the bump. “Really happy,”

Steve shot you a smile before turning back to the road. “Me too.”

He pulled into the parking lot of the bakery. Inside you ordered two cupcakes with pink filling, ready for Steve’s parents to discover the news. It was hard not to take a bite as you left the bakery.

“I can pick you up tomorrow to come have dinner with us and…you know, tell them,” he said.

“Okay,” you agreed. You held the cupcakes safely on your lap as he drove you back home.

Your house wasn’t far. Your mom had had to go back to work and your didn’t hadn’t gotten off yet, so it was empty. Steve came in with you, following you as you deposited the cupcakes in the kitchen and then up to your bedroom, carrying your bag for you. He dropped it by the end of your bed where you always sat it. It was weird how he’d started to know you so well.

He approached you, placing both hands on your belly. It was so natural for him now, it was his favorite thing to do. He got down to his knees in front of you so he was face level with your belly.

“Hi, baby girl,” he said. Your heart thudded hard in your chest - he had never done something like this before. “I’m your daddy.” He rubbed a hand across your stomach, caressing it lovingly. “I love you very much already. Did you know that? I can’t wait to meet you.”

Tears sprung to your eyes. You quickly wiped them away, watching the moment between Steve and - your daughter.

“You be good for your momma, okay?” he continued. “She’s working hard growing you and finishing school at the same time. She’s the coolest. You’re going to love her.”

You could feel her wiggling around, kicking at Steve’s hand. His eyes went wide- “Did she just kick me??”

You laughed, amazed. “Yeah, I think she did.”

Steve was smiling so big, his own eyes welling with tears. He kissed your belly, rubbing where he had felt the kick. “I love you. I love you so much.”

When Steve stood again, he looked happy. So happy. It made your heart swell, too.

“I guess I gotta get going,” he said, looking like he absolutely did not want to go. “Still under curfew, and all.”

“Okay,” you begrudgingly agreed. You found yourself wanting to spend more time with Steve - and you already spent just about all your time together. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Steve’s face brightened at that reminder. “Yeah. See you tomorrow.”

He surprised you when he pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly while still being careful of the bump. It felt like a loss when he pulled away, and then he was leaving, taking a piece of you with him.

—

The next day, Steve picked you up for dinner just as planned. You had the cupcakes ready to go. You were nervous, your hands shook as you buckled your seatbelt. Steve could sense your anxiety immediately, reaching over and taking your hand.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. They’re gonna be happy. The hard part is over.”

You tried to keep that in mind during the ride there. You were extra careful with the cupcakes, not allowing even a smidge of icing to be messed up. At the Harrington’s Steve came around and took them from you before helping you get up.

Inside the house smelled delicious once again. Roasted chicken this time, with potatoes and greens. Mrs. Harrington smiled as the two of you walked into the kitchen.

She greeted you by name, walking around the island bar to hold your hand in both of hers. “How are you feeling, darling? How’s the little one?”

“Good, and good,” you answered both her questions. She surprised you by placing a hand on your belly - you had yet to have anyone but Steve do that. It felt strange.

“What are these?” she asked, gesturing to the two boxes in Steve’s hand.

“We brought cupcakes…to announce the gender,” you explained.

“How cute!” She took them from Steve carefully, sitting them on the counter. “Richard should be down any minute now.”

Mr. Harrington came down the stairs as you were helping Mrs. Harrington set the table. He looked stern and unfriendly as ever, still dressed nicely in a button down and slacks. He greeted you shortly.

“Should we go ahead and do the reveal before dinner?” Mrs. Harrington asked. “I don’t think I can wait.”

“Sure, we can,” you said. Steve handed one of the boxes to his father and the other to his mom. The opened them, revealing the cutely decorated cupcakes with white icing and a baby rattle on top.

“Ready?” Steve asked.

They took the small decoration off and peeled the paper from around the sweet bread. They exchanged a look before they bit into their cupcakes at the same time.

Mrs. Harrington lit up when she saw the pink filling, squealing and throwing her arms around Steve first, then you. “A granddaughter!!”

Mr. Harrington had…no reaction. In fact, he almost seemed displeased. “You knock a girl up and you couldn’t even have a son to carry on the Harrington name?”

Silence. “Dad-“

Mr. Harrington held a hand up, silencing Steve. But nothing more was said as everyone sat down to dinner in the awkward silence.

It was uncomfortable. Mr. Harrington was a total asshole, and his wife just let him without saying a word, leading to awkward moments like these. You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know if there was anything to say.

When you and Steve left, he was apologetic. “I’m so sorry. He’s such an ass. I’m really sorry he ruined the whole thing.”

You shook your head as you climbed into the car. “It’s not your fault, Steve.”

“I know. It just…feels like it reflects back on me.”

“What do you mean?” you asked him as he began the drive home.

“Just that…it feels like people think I’m an asshole just like him. Or that I will be one day. And it’s embarrassing.”

You took his hand. “Steve, you’re nothing like your dad.”

He let out a long breath. “God. Thank you. For saying that.”

“Seriously,” you continued. “Nothing like him. You’re kind, and sweet, and caring, loyal, funny, reliable-“

“You think all those things about me?” Steve asked, goofy grin on his handsome face.

You blushed deeply. “I…”

“I think you’re great, too.” His eyes were on the road now. “The best, even. I wouldn’t want to be doing this with anyone else.”

“Not even Nancy?”

The question hung in the air for a moment. “No. Not even Nancy.”

You wanted to say it then - I love you. But it didn’t come. You tried to work up the courage, but before you had the chance to, the car was coming to a stop outside your house.

Neither of you said anything at first, neither daring to move. Steve opened his mouth to say something, but just closed it again instead. He turned to you and gave you a smile that seemed rather forced.

“I’ll see you Monday,” he said. “Take care of yourself and our little nugget.”

“I will,” you agreed. You waited to see if he would say something else, but he didn’t. So you opened the door and climbed out (with some difficulty) and walked into your house.

Up in your room that night, you thought. You had much to think about, and your mind wouldn’t shut the fuck up. You were about to resort to counting sheep when your phone rang on your bedside table.

You snatched it off the receiver, hoping to hear one particular voice only. “Hello?”

“Uh, hey.” Just as if you had manifested it, Steve’s voice came from the other line.

“Hey,” you said, smiling like an idiot because he couldn’t see you. “What’s up?”

“I just…” he sighed. “I couldn’t sleep. And I wanted to talk to you.”

Butterflies took flight in your stomach and chest. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled lightly to himself. “I don’t have anything else. I didn’t exactly plan this far, I just picked up the phone.”

You couldn’t stop smiling. “What are you doing?”

“Just laying in bed…was trying to sleep, but…yeah.”

“I couldn’t sleep either,” you said. You didn’t admit that you had been longing to call him and hear his voice just as bad as he had for you.

“Are you uncomfortable?”

“A little.” You rubbed your belly beneath your loose sleep shirt.

“Is there anything I can do to help? Anything I can get?”

You thought for a minute, smile on your lips. “Maybe one of those giant pregnancy pillows.”

“You got it.”

The baby kicked hard, and you moved your hand to where she was, letting out a little “Ooh.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you said. “She’s just really active tonight.”

“Maybe she misses her dad.”

“Maybe she does.” There was a moment of silence over the line.

“Do you have any name ideas?” Steve asked out of the blue.

“Oh,” you said, question catching you off guard. “I haven’t really let myself think about it yet.”

“I like Elizabeth,” he offered. “Ellie.”

“That’s really cute.” You were surprised at how much you liked the name, since it was the first one either of you had brought up.

“Maybe Danielle.”

“I like that too, but I like Ellie better.”

“Me too.” You could hear the smile in Steve’s voice. “Elizabeth Harrington.”

Harrington. Your daughter will be a Harrington. You didn’t love the idea of having a different last name than her, but you didn’t want to revisit your dad’s insistence to get married.

“Elizabeth ‘Ellie’ Harrington. I like it.” You smiled too, but your heart was beating rapidly in your chest. It was hard to believe this little creature you’d been carrying around was a human being with a whole name and everything.

“What about her middle name?”

You thought. “Maybe Louise? After my grandmother?”

“Perfect. I love it.” Steve sounded infinitely happier than he had when you’d picked up the phone. He yawned, which made you yawn, too.

“I guess I’m gonna actually try to go to bed,” he said reluctantly. “Talking to you helped.”

“Glad I could be of service.” You twirled the phone cord around your finger. “I guess I should go to sleep, too.”

“Did talking to me make you feel better?

Yet another smile grew on your lips. “Yeah. It did.”

“Good. I’ll talk to you later. Goodnight.” The way your name sounded when it left his lips had you aching for him. In any way.

But instead you hung up the phone, wishing Steve was here with you instead of in his own house. You wished he was here to hold you, to cuddle you to sleep and keep you safe. You drifted asleep to thoughts of Steve in bed behind you.

—

“I can’t believe we’re graduating in 2 weeks,” Carol said, flipping through the racks of dresses. “It’s finally over.”

“Finally,” you agreed, because you were equally ready to be done with the halls of Hawkins High. Especially at 27 weeks, just about in the third trimester and absolutely huge. You waddled through the store behind Carol, your back aching horribly.

“Ooh, this one’s cute,” she said, pulling a white dress off the rack. You remembered a time when you could still fit in anything besides maternity clothes.

“That would look really good on you!” And you knew it was the truth. But everything looked good on Carol.

“We need to find you something,” she said. “You’ve got to look hot.”

“I don’t think that’s possible at this point,” you said, gesturing to the bump.

“It’s definitely possible. You are hot.” Carol looked at you like this was obvious information. “We’re gonna find you a dress you feel beautiful in. I promise.”

After Carol decided on a dress, you moved on to a maternity store. Once again, the majority of the selection was, for lack of a better description, old lady clothes. You felt dejected as you and Carol looked through the racks, Carol scrunching her nose up at most of the options.

Until finally, she gasped, pulling out a white dress with lace over the bodice. “Oh, this is the one.”

It was pretty. You took it from her hands and examined it. You couldn’t believe how pretty it was, in this store surrounded by the ugliest clothes you’d ever seen. But here it was. “I need to try it on first.”

You weren’t hopeful as you and Carol walked to the changing rooms, and you especially weren’t hopeful as you undressed and saw yourself in the mirror. Your body had changed so much. It was unrecognizable. You felt self conscious constantly, like you were this huge fucking planet walking around and drawing everyone’s attention, and not in a good way.

You forced yourself to turn away and slip the dress over your head. It fit surprisingly well, hugging your breasts and chest tightly before flowing down over the bump. It stopped about at your knees. It did look really nice on you, you had to admit. It accentuated the bump in a flattering way, more like look how cute I am! than I’m trying to hide this huge thing under my clothes.

You stepped out of the changing room, and Carol gasped, clapping her hands together in approval. “Oh, this is the one, baby. You’re getting this one.”

The confidence this dress gave you made you feel as if you were glowing, the way they always said pregnant women did. You were disappointed to change back into your own clothes, but when you took the dress to the counter and bought it, it made you feel better.

Maybe graduation wouldn’t be so bad after all.

—

The day of graduation, you were 29 weeks, everything was swollen and you were in pain. You were in a bad mood as your mom helped you get ready. You were already in your dress, doing your makeup in the mirror as your mom styled your hair for you.

“It’s going to be fine,” your mom said. “You’re gonna walk across that stage, get your diploma, and be done with it. And you have Steve and Carol with you.”

That was true. It was the only thing that made you feel better. You were humiliated at the thought of having to walk the stage with your huge belly, everyone knowing who you were and what you did. How you got here.

Steve came and picked you up since you didn’t want to be alone, your parents driving on their own in time for the ceremony. As graduates, you had to be there early. Steve held your hand the drive there, like he could sense how scared you were. Maybe it was obvious.

Carol pulled you into a tight hug when you and Steve entered the gymnasium, all set up with a stage and lots of seating. “You look beautiful. I knew you would.”

You blushed. “Thanks, Carol.”

“You do,” Steve agreed. With the way he was looking at you you could tell he was genuine. In fact, he was looking at you like you were the only person in the room full of a hundred Hawkins High graduates. It made your heart beat fast. His hand rested on your cheek, gently caressing the skin. You both totally forgot about Carol and Tommy standing right next to you, forgot that you were embarrassed to be here. All

there was was Steve, and god, you wanted to kiss him-

“Isn’t this sweet?”

Your stomach dropped.

“Nancy,” you said, turning and seeing her standing there, looking beautiful as she always did. Barb stood next to her, looking uncomfortable.

“What do you want, Wheeler?” Carol asked, her usual attitude back. The one you did not want to be on the other side of again.

“Just wanted to congratulate the new parents,” she said mockingly. “It’s almost time now, isn’t it?”

You didn’t know what to say. You knew she was being facetious, she didn’t actually care about the state of your pregnancy or the baby. But it was still so strange to have Nancy talking to you this way. Your long time best friend, the sweetest person you knew, turned into this.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “It is.”

“Are you two together yet?” she asked. “Or has Steve gone and knocked up another slut?”

“Oh, you bitch,” Carol said, pushing through to stand right in Nancy’s face. “Why don’t you go find Byers? You two have been getting pretty cozy even since before you and Steve broke up.”

Nancy’s jaw dropped. “You-“

“Nancy, I think you should go,” Steve said, stepping between the girls to put an end to this fight before it got out of hand. “You aren’t actually here to talk, so just go.”

She looked at Steve then with so much hurt in her eyes, you felt guilty all over again. “Sure, Steve. I hope you’re happy.”

Barbara put a hand on her back as they walked away, and you let out a deep breath. Steve pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “I just feel like the biggest backstabber on the planet.”

Steve sighed. He laid his head on top of yours. “You’re not a bad person, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. You knew it was just friendly, but the sound of the nickname gave you goosebumps anyway. You wanted so badly to tilt your head up and look into his deep brown eyes, to-

“Alright, everyone, we’re getting started! Get to your assigned places!”

Steve reluctantly pulled away from you with his hands on your upper arms. He looked you over again, his face creased with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” you assured him. “Now let’s go graduate.”

The ceremony was long and boring. You waited your turn until Principal Higgins reached your name on the alphabetical list, then you stood, smoothed your dress down over your belly, and walked to the stage with confidence.

You could hear your parents, Steve, Tommy, and Carol cheering for you louder than anyone. You blushed, but couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. Principal Higgins handed you your diploma with a smile and a “Well done,” and that was that. You exited the stage and went back to your seat, watching the remaining students graduate.

When you tossed your hat into the air at the end of the ceremony, you felt more emotions than you’d expected to. School was really over. You couldn’t even remember a time before you were in school - it had been your whole life, and now it was over. Now you had much bigger, scarier things headed your way.

Steve’s parents threw a huge graduation party for him, and were kind enough to make it a joint party for the two of you (at Steve’s insistence). There were a lot of guests, lots of Steve’s family you didn’t know and a lot of friends and acquaintances from school. You were glad Tommy and Carol were there.

You entertained yourself with the buffet table - still very much eating for two, after all. Steve stayed by your side, introducing you to his distant family members. They all looked at your belly before they met your eyes. You had grown used to that treatment.

“I’m really proud of you,” Steve said when the two of you caught a moment alone. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think it’s really impressive that you finished school with…everything going on.”

You shook your head. “It’s really not that impressive.”

“It is, and you should be proud of yourself.” Steve looked at you for a minute. He stepped closer to you, his hand coming to rest on the side of your face. He caressed your cheek, his eyes staring deeply into yours. Your heart stuttered in your chest - were you even still breathing? He parted his lips, moving closer and closer.

He pressed his lips to your forehead, leaving a lingering kiss there. Your heart sunk - you felt like an idiot for thinking that he had feelings for you, that he was going to kiss you. Your cheeks heated with embarrassment, even though Steve had no idea what you’d been thinking he was about to do.

You spent the rest of the party feeling like an absolute fool for wishing for something that would never happen.

At the end of the party, Steve and Carol both gave you a big hug. Even Tommy joined in. Besides your own angst, it was hard not to smile when you were surrounded by these people you loved - your found family.

You rode home in the passenger seat of your mom’s car, your dad sitting in the back to give you the extra space. You watched out the window, and you thought not about your high school career coming to an end, or the baby on the way, or the situation with Nancy and Barb. You thought about Steve.

Steve, Steve, Steve.

—

You put the brochure down in front of Steve. “I signed us up.”

He picked up the paper, examining it. “‘Lamaze’? What the fuck is Lamaze?”

“It’s a birthing class,” you said, although you thought he would have gotten the hint from the pictures of smiling pregnant women and dads on the front.

“A birthing class?”

“Yes, Steve. I’m 32 weeks pregnant. This baby is coming soon, and I want to be ready.” Truth be told, you were terrified. Any amount of preparation would be better than your current state.

“I- we just- well, yeah,” he said, stumbling over his words. “It’s just-“

“What?”

Steve let out a deep breath. “It’s really coming soon, huh?” You softened as you could physically feel the anxiety radiating off his form where he sat across from you at the diner. He was jittery, bouncing his leg and fiddling with his hands.

“Yeah. Really soon,” you said, not mincing any words. “But we’ve got this. We’ve had months to prepare, we have a couple more to go. The baby has been healthy, I’ve been healthy besides the blood pressure. We have the big stuff - crib, stroller, car seat. The baby shower is in 3 weeks. We’re doing okay.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re doing okay.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

“We just need to be ready for the birth, you know?” you continued. “Neither of us has ever done this before.”

“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair, longer now than when you’d met. It suited him. “Okay. I’ll go with you.”

“You were gonna go with me either way.”

He laughed. “I’ll pretend I had a choice.”

The class was that Thursday. You had been staying home since graduation, while Steve had started working with his dad. It wore him out and he kind of hated it, but it was worth it for the benefits and pay. It was really the only option to take care of the three of you.

Steve picked you up after work, still dressed in his button down and tie, loosened around his neck. He smiled at you tiredly - “Hey.”

“Hey yourself. How was work?”

“Boring. Long.” He sighed as he pulled away from the curb and drove towards the hospital the class was being held at. It was the same hospital you’d be delivering at. “I hate it.”

“I know,” you said quietly. There was nothing to be done about it, though. It didn’t stop the guilt from eating at you.

At the hospital Steve helped you get out of the car, since you were officially too big to do it yourself now. Once you were down, you were stuck without help. It made you feel useless. He put his hand on your back as you waddled inside and signed in.

The goal was to give birth without the epidural. You weren’t sure how well that was going to go for you, but you were doing everything in your power to be prepared and have the best chance of making it without the medication.

You took a seat on one of the mats, Steve helping to lower you to the ground. He sat next to you, looking awkward as he looked around at all the other couples. Not that you were a couple.

The class started with relaxation exercises. Steve sat behind you, rubbing your shoulders and back as you tried to mentally get in the zone - meditating and doing deep breathing exercises along with the instructor.

The next thing they did was play a childbirth video.

Steve turned so pale you thought he would pass out. His eyes were glued to the screen, staring in absolute horror. His jaw was dropped, like he never expected childbirth to be this graphic- or dramatic.

After the video, the instructor talked some about the birthing process. You and Steve both listened intently, Steve even taking notes in a little notebook he brought along with him. It was cute.

After the lecture portion of the class, the instructor started leading you through labor breathing exercises.

“Alright, dads,” she said in her soothing voice, clapping her hands together. “Sit behind mom and hold her - hands on the belly for support - now breathe in and out with me, just like this.”

You followed her example, breathing in quickly three times then a long breath out. You repeated the exercise over and over along with the rest of the class, Steve’s strong hands on you as he breathed along with you. It was intimate. You leaned back into his touch and his body molded around yours.

“You’re doing great,” he whispered in your ear. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Keep breathing just like that. You’re gonna kick ass.”

Steve’s words were encouraging. It wasn’t exactly the method the other dads in the room were using, including more swearing than anyone else, but it worked.

The instructor taught the dads a lot of ways to support their partners, and Steve was paying full attention. Then she instructed everyone to stand - Steve pulled you up - and had the dads stand behind their partner.

“This has nothing to do with birthing techniques,” the woman said with a smile, “it’s just a moment of relief for our moms.”

Steve followed her steps and wrapped his arms around you, hands beneath your belly. Then, on the count of 3, he lifted up slightly, holding the weight of the baby. You could have cried from relief - your back hadn’t felt better in months. You hadn’t realized how much weight you’d been carrying around.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve huffed. “You carry all this around all day??”

After the short break, she went on to talk about newborn care. Steve changed his first diaper on a doll, which went about as well as you could expect, but you knew he’d be a fast learner.

Steve left the class with a newfound appreciation for you and everything you’d been going through and would go through. He was extra attentive as he helped you into the car.

“Want me to pick up some food on the way home?” he asked, turning the key in the ignition and starting the BMW.

“God, you read my mind.”

—

You were 35 weeks when your baby shower finally came around, absolutely huge and miserable. I mean huge. You didn’t even think it was possible to become so round, yet here you were.

You had started to be in a pretty bad mood all the time since being so heavily pregnant. You were, frankly, over it. Everything hurt, you felt like you took up so much space and looked like garbage, you couldn’t breathe, and there were no comfortable positions left.

Carol helped you dress in your long pink dress, the fabric hanging flatteringly along your body. You actually looked beautiful - it had been a long time since you felt beautiful.

“Look at you,” Carol said, a huge smile on her face as she looked you over. She looked as if she might cry. “I can’t believe it’s finally here.”

“I look huge,” you said, turning each way in the mirror.

“You look like a mom,” she said. “Very womanly. I dig it.”

You laughed at that, smoothing your hands over the belly. You actually didn’t feel bad.

“Steve’s going to lose his mind.”

You froze.

“What?” Carol asked, mockingly innocent. “You think I haven’t noticed how into him you are? Or how into you he is?”

“He is not into me,” you said quickly.

“Yes, he is. I’ve known Steve since elementary school. I’ve been friends with Steve since elementary school.” Carol looked at you pointedly. “He is head over heels for you, girl.”

“He just cares about me because I’m carrying his baby. It’s nothing more than that.”

“Tell yourself that if you want,” she shrugged.

You tried to push her words out of your head as you finished getting ready for the party. They were still lingering in your head when you walked into Steve’s large immaculate living room, to a room full of people you loved and some you vaguely knew.

You weren’t usually one to be the center of attention. You’d spent most of your life flying under the radar, not drawing any extra attention to yourself. But the baby shower was like having a spotlight on you, everyone looking at you and your belly and knowing how you got here. Even if they didn’t know the Nancy part, everyone here knew you and Steve were teen parents after a hookup and weren’t even together.

You happily helped yourself to the food, however. Your and Steve’s moms, with the help of Carol, had really outdone themselves. It was the fanciest baby shower you’d ever seen.

There was a beautiful rocking chair with a bow on it by the gift table. You wiped tears away as you removed it and sat down in the chair with Steve beside you. Carol began bringing you gifts, opening one after another of baby clothes and diapers and supplies you had been panicked about being able to afford. It only made you cry harder.

“There’s one more,” Steve said after you opened the last gift. The whole room of people watched intently, which made you uncomfortable, but Steve always made you feel like you were the only two people in the world.

He moved to the table and grabbed a card. It was tucked neatly in a dark green envelope, and it was thick, like there was something inside. You looked at Steve curiously. “What is this?”

“You have to open it and see,” he laughed.

You gave him a playfully cautious look before you started to break the seal on the envelope. You pulled out a pink card decorated with baby rattles and diapers and cribs. Slowly you opened it, and your jaw dropped.

There was a key taped inside. And on the other side, written in Steve’s messy scrawl:

My gift to you. Thank you for everything you do. You are my best friend and you are going to be the best mom this world has ever seen. I can’t wait to watch it happen.

Welcome home.

The tears were falling freely now. “Steve- is this-?”

“The key to our new apartment,” he finished for you. “I’ve been looking for months and I finally found one we can afford that looks incredible. Two bedrooms. A place for us to make our own.”

“Steve-“ you cried, but it was barely audible through the tears. You weren’t even thinking about how there was a room full of people watching you cry. “You shouldn’t-“

“What, shouldn’t have gotten us a place to live together like a real family?” He chuckled. “Let yourself be happy, sweetheart. You deserve this.”

The whole room of people were watching, some tearing up at the affectionate display. Steve must have been saving up for this since he got the job with his dad, not spending a single cent on anything for himself. His selflessness never ceased to amaze you, even though you should be used to it by now.

The baby shower was a huge success. You got everything you needed. You were in tears by the time the party was over, giving everyone a hug and all your gratitude as they left. When the guests were gone, you were left alone with Steve and both of your parents.

“You have until this weekend to move out,” Mr. Harrington said to Steve. “I’m not supporting you with a kid on the way.”

The whole vibe in the room shifted. What was once full of joy and happiness was now awkward and stilted. Mr. Harrington had brought the mood down once again.

“You know,” your mother said, “I think you should be proud of them. Sure, they got themselves into a mess, but look at them.” She looked at Steve with a smile, then at you with so much emotion in her eyes. “They’re doing great for themselves. Graduated, a good job, an apartment. They’re going to be okay. I believe in them.”

No one said anything at first. Your mom wrapped her arm around you, pulling you close like she often did when you were half her height. Finally, Mr. Harrington cleared his throat.

“Well. Isn’t that sweet. And naive.”

He turned and left before anyone could say anything else. You could tell your mom was pissed - she wasn’t one to be walked over. But for your sake, she didn’t push it.

“I…” Mrs Harrington began. “I’m…sorry, about him.”

Her words caught you off guard. Even Steve was surprised. He’d never heard her speak against his father before. She pulled Steve into a hug, holding him tight.

“I’m proud of you, son. You’re going to be a great father.”

Steve held her back, the emotions in the room now even more heightened, but not in the way they had been before Steve’s father left. This was better. This was love.

Steve held you tightly when you were on the way out the door with your parents. “I’ll come pick you up this weekend and we’ll move. Well, I’ll move. You can sit and look pretty while telling me where things go.”

Pretty?

“Okay,” you giggled, ignoring that part of what he said. “Bye, Steve.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

—

Saturday, it was moving time. Just about everyone was pitching in to help - Steve’s mom, your parents, Tommy and Carol. Steve and Tommy carried the couch in and sat it in the living room, and that became your command center for the rest of the day.

You sat down, aching feet up on the coffee table they brought in shortly after. You watched the bustle around you as everyone carried box after box, furniture after furniture. Steve and Tommy got into an argument trying to get the bed frame into the bedroom door, until your dad came over and showed them how to turn it.

After the main furniture was up, you were able to get up and start decorating. You had been longing to nest, body itching to get ready for the baby. It was instinctual, all you could think about was preparing for this baby.

Everyone brought in the boxes from the baby shower. You set up in the nursery with Carol while everyone else finished up.

“We’re getting Steve and Tommy to figure this out,” Carol said, examining the crib manual with her nose scrunched up. “Because I have no fucking idea what this is telling me to do.”

When the rest of the furniture and boxes were moved, your parents began unpacking them while Tommy and Steve joined you and Carol.

“What is this, fuckin’, physics?” Tommy said, the instructions in his hands now. Steve snatched them from him.

“Let me see.”

An hour later and the crib still wasn’t finished, Steve and Tommy arguing every two seconds. You and Carol were opening the baby shower gifts and finding them a place in the room.

“I can’t believe how tiny these clothes are,” Carol gushed, holding them up and looking at them with heart eyes. “I want one.”

“Uh, you can forget about that one,” Tommy said.

You had asked for books instead of cards from your guests, so you had a large selection of baby books you slid onto the wall shelf. Carol cut the tags off the baby clothes and fit them onto the tiny hangers, folding the ones that went in the drawers.

When you were done, it looked like a proper nursery. The dark brown crib had a sheet on it, a personalized blanket hanging over the side. The books and clothes were put away. The stroller was in the closet, car seat ready to be installed in Steve’s car. There was a bouncer and baby swing, a collection of breastfeeding supplies, a changing table and plenty of diapers to get you started.

“Not long now,” Steve said when you were left alone in the apartment, standing in the nursery together and looking at what you’d done together. He rubbed his hand over your large belly, feeling Ellie kicking him. He smiled. He was happy.

—

“Oh my god,” Carol said, holding up a tiny frilly dress. “This is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

The cashier gave her a disapproving look.

“There’s so many clothes,” you said, running your hand through the rack. “Will she need a lot of clothes?”

“Oh, yeah,” Carol said. “My little brother went through like, 5 outfits a day. Poop and throw up and all that.”

“Ugh.” You both laughed, browsing the store’s selection. There were way more baby girl clothes than baby boy clothes. But you thought about the future - maybe you’d be back one day shopping for a baby boy.

“Oh my god, look at this!” She held up another pink dress, a white bow around it. “You have to get this one. Ellie’s going to look so cute.”

The dress was extremely cute. You took it from Carol’s hands. You put it in your basket - she was right, Ellie had to have it.

You were just looking at another section of clothes when you felt a gush between your legs.

You gasped. “Carol-!”

Her jaw dropped. “Oh my god. Did what I think just happened just happen?”

“I-I think so,” you said. “But it’s early. It’s too early.”

“You’re 35 weeks right??”

“Yes.” You bent over as a strong contraction wracked through your body. You breathed out a rush of air, groaning as you held onto the rack with one hand and your belly with the other.

That’s when you noticed the blood. A lot of it.

The cashier came rushing over to you. “Ma’am? Are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance?”

You nodded, words unable to come with the amount of pain you were in, the fear struck deep into your chest. Carol was panicking.

The woman ran back to the phone and called 911, while Carol helped you find a place to sit. You sat on the chair, but quickly realized that wasn’t helping at all. You stood and began pacing, doing your breathing exercises like you’d learned in class. Tears streamed down your face, not from the pain, but from the pure horror, the fear that your baby wouldn’t be okay.

When the paramedics arrived, they got you on the stretcher immediately and prepared to rush you to the hospital. Carol jumped in the back with you, holding your hand.

“Hey. You’re doing great. You’re doing so good. Everything’s gonna be okay. We’ll call Steve at the hospital, okay? Then he’ll be there and the doctors can help you and everything will be fine.” Carol was rambling, her hand shaking in yours.

At the hospital you were brought upstairs immediately, changed into a gown and hooked up to monitors. Your blood pressure was still high and you were still

bleeding. They rushed an ultrasound machine into the room, beginning the exam as Carol called Steve.

“Steve?” Carol said into the phone. “She- she’s in labor. Yes, I’m sure. We know it’s early. There’s…there’s a lot of blood. We’re already at the hospital. Okay. By-“ She put the phone down. “He’s on his way. He hung up on me.”

Carol was helping you through your breathing exercises, trying to keep you calm as much as she could. You could tell she was freaked out, but she was being a good friend. The best, really.

The doctors finished their exam and determined you had experienced placental abruption.

“This is very, very serious,” the doctor said. “We’re going to prepare you for a C-section now.”

You didn’t want that. You didn’t want any of this. You had spent so long preparing for birth, preparing your pain management exercises and everything for the natural birth of your dreams. But anything to give Ellie the best chance of survival. You were getting woozy from the blood loss.

“Wait,” you said weakly as they put a cap over your hair and prepared to rush you to the OR. “Steve-“

“We have to take you for surgery right now,” one of the nurses said. “I don’t want to alarm you, but this is very serious. We can’t wait for anyone.”

You started crying again. None of this was happening the way you’d hoped. As they wheeled you out into the hall, you heard footsteps running down the hall. You turned your head, relieved to see a panicked Steve rushing to your side, still dressed in his nice clothes from work.

“I’m here,” he said, grabbing your hand. “I’m here.”

“Sir, we’re taking her for an emergency C-section right now,” the nurse said. “Someone will get you some scrubs and you can meet us in there.”

Steve reluctantly watched them take you, feeling helpless as he was left behind.

You were still out of it as they brought you into the freezing cold operating room, moving you onto the metal table covered in a sheet. There was a curtain separating your chest from the rest of your body, preventing you from seeing what was going on.

They put an oxygen mask on you and administered medication into your IV. It wasn’t long before you couldn’t feel anything below your arms anymore. Your vision was hazy, and all of a sudden you weren’t worried about anything anymore.

Steve rushed into the room dressed in hospital scrubs with a hair cap matching yours. The fear in his eyes was evident, and they were red as if he’d been crying. “Sweetheart,” he said, placing a kiss on your forehead and holding your hand. “I’m here. Everything is gonna be okay. The doctors are gonna help you and Ellie is gonna be here in our arms soon, healthy and beautiful.” It wasn’t clear who he was trying to convince.

You were out of it, not feeling a thing as they made the incision. Steve was freaking out, his hand shaking where it held one of yours that was strapped down. It felt like it was only seconds before the sound of crying filled the room.

Steve huffed a disbelieving breath, a smile on his face as he cried and looked at the tiny little baby with complete awe. The nurses cleaned her up, checking her out to make sure she was okay. She was so tiny, wiggling and crying. You had never seen something so small, so delicate.

The nurse wrapped her in a hospital blanket, putting a soft cap on her head full of brown hair. She brought her over to you and Steve as the doctors continued working on you, trying to stop the bleeding unbeknownst to you.

Steve took her from the nurse’s arms with all the gentleness of a brand new dad. He was shaking as he pushed the blanket down slightly to uncover her angelic face. Her eyes were closed, content in her father’s arms. He leaned over and held her down for you to see.

“Look,” Steve said gently. “Look what we did.”

You couldn’t stop the tears as you saw your daughter for the first time. She was perfect. Chubby little cheeks, pouty lips, button nose. She looked like the perfect mix of you and Steve.

“Hi, Ellie,” you whispered, your voice weak. “You are the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Steve chuckled, a tear escaping from his eye and rolling down his cheek. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Perfect.”

—

Elizabeth Louise Harrington was born healthy, 6 lbs 7 oz. She only needed a short time in the nicu before they discharged her. You spent every waking moment in a wheelchair by her bassinet, holding and rocking her, taking turns with Steve, who was there the second he got off work.

Your mom was the first one to visit. She had hurried to the hospital as soon as Carol called her to tell her what had happened. She cried, a lot. But when she held her granddaughter in her arms, everything in the world was right.

Your dad came after work, smiling down at the tiny bundle in his wife’s arms. He put a hand on your shoulder, and looked at Steve. “You did good, kids.”

Steve’s mom was there shortly after. She cooed at the tiny baby, walking around the room and rocking her like a total natural. It may have been 18 years since she’d done this, but her instinct never left. His father never came.

That evening, once both of your parents had left, Tommy and Carol came over. “Oh my goddd!” Carol squealed quietly, coming over to you with her arms outstretched. “Let Auntie Carol see that perfect baby.”

Carol sat next to you on the bed as you handed the baby to her. She was so gentle as she took Ellie into her arms, bouncing her softly and cooing. “Look at you, pretty girl. Gonna be just as beautiful as your mama.”

Tommy took a seat on the room’s couch next to Steve. “Congrats, man,” he said, slapping Steve on the back.

“Thanks,” he said sheepishly.

“How do you like being a dad?”

Steve looked over at you, Ellie, and Carol on the bed, and he smiled. His chest felt warm and fuzzy, his heart soaring. “It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

They let you both go home from the hospital a week later. Steve took a week off of work to help you out, but that’s all his dad was willing to give him. You tucked Ellie safely into her car seat, buckling her in safely. Steve was so paranoid about hurting her.

The nurse pushed you out of the hospital in a wheelchair while Steve carried the baby carrier to his car. He hooked it into the backseat, and helped you climb into the back next to her. You weren’t ready to let her ride back there alone yet.

Steve drove home at a snail’s pace. The other cars on the road honked at you, but Steve didn’t care. All he cared about was getting his girls home safely.

He carried the carrier in one hand while he helped you walk your sore body into the apartment with his other. He got you comfortable on the couch before taking a sleeping Ellie out of her seat. He bounced her gently as he walked around the room.

It was so strange to be here, in this home, with your family. Your family, the one you created. Steve, and the baby girl you’d created together.

Only you and Steve weren’t together.

Steve hadn’t talked about girls at all since you’d been pregnant. You had taken his full attention. But what about when he decided he wanted to date again? How would you handle that? The thought filled you with dread.

Because you were starting to feel something for Steve that scared you.

You spent the first week home on the couch mostly. Steve brought you everything you needed, while helping you move a little more each day. You were still so sore from surgery, but you were determined to be ready to care for Ellie on your own when Steve went back to work.

Steve’s first diaper change had been an experience. He gagged, being dramatic as hell while you watched on and laughed. “You’re gonna have to get used to it, bud.”

“This is foul. How does such a tiny little thing poop so much?”

You had a newborn photo shoot scheduled 2 weeks after you came home. You dressed Ellie in a tiny dress, you and Steve dressing in matching nice clothes.

“Okay, mom and dad,” the photographer said. “Why don’t you get close and hold her between you?”

Steve moved close to you, holding Ellie between your bodies. The sleeping newborn cradled perfectly in your arms together, the photos were taken. You had chills at the proximity. You found that you liked being close to Steve. You liked it a lot.

That night, you got Ellie settled and laid her down in her crib. You were exhausted, as you always were these days. “I’m ready for bed,” you told Steve, yawning big.

“Me too,” he said. “Go on and get ready and I’ll be in soon.”

Since the apartment only had two bedrooms, you and Steve had agreed to share the bed. It was purely platonic, of course, even though you often woke up with Steve’s arm wrapped tightly around you and his face buried in your neck as he snored lightly. You never moved him when that happened.

After you’d had a shower and gotten in bed, Steve came and did the same before joining you. You both drifted off to sleep so fast, as you always did these days.

It was 3am when you were woken by the baby monitor. You picked it up, seeing Ellie fussing. You sighed - you never minded taking care of her, but you were just so tired tonight. You were getting up when Steve stopped you.

“I got it,” he said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “You go back to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. “You have work tomorrow.”

“I’m sure. Get some rest, please.”

You watched Steve leave, wondering how you got so lucky.

Steve went into the nursery, scooping a crying Ellie from her crib. “Hi, baby girl,” he said quietly. “Are you hungry? Let’s go warm you up a bottle.”

You had a supply of pumped milk so Steve could feed her, too. He went into the kitchen with the baby in his arms, making the bottle one handed like a pro. He settled into the recliner and rocked as he fed the bottle to Ellie, who was snuggled against his shirtless chest.

He was so sleepy, but he’d rather be here than anywhere else.

A month into her life, Ellie started crying constantly. It was like there was nothing you could do to calm her. It broke your heart to see her so upset, like she was in pain. Steve was stressing out hard.

“What do we do??” he asked, pacing and running his hands through his hair. “What’s wrong with her? Why won’t she calm down?”

A trip to the doctor later, Ellie had a diagnosis of colic. You were basically told there was nothing you could do, it was just something that had to run its course. Nevertheless, you both put your all into trying to make her feel better. Making sure she burped well after eating, giving her gas drops, walking the hall with her at night for hours until she finally fell asleep. Steve never once complained. He was so devoted to his daughter, it made your chest ache with love.

Love.

One of those nights, when Ellie was 7 weeks old and after she had finally fallen asleep, you and Steve collapsed on the couch, exhausted. You laid your head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around you.

“You okay?” he asked you quietly.

“Yeah,” you said. “What about you?”

“I’m good. I’m happy.” He smiled down at you. “I know this is hard, but I love being a dad. I love my girl. Both of my girls.”

There was that word again. Love.

“Steve,” you started, sitting up on the couch and turning to face him as you talked. “What do you want for your future?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, furrowing his brows.

“Like, what do you want? Where do you want to be?”

“I want to be right here,” he said easily.

“No, but, you know what I mean. For the future. Do you want to get married to someone? Have more kids?”

Steve smiled. “Definitely. I want a big family.”

“Yeah? Even after all this?” you laughed sleepily.

“Of course. I want like, six kids.”

“Jesus.”

Steve laughed. “And…I don’t want to marry ‘someone’.”

You raised your eyebrows. “You don’t want to get married?”

“No, I mean, of course I do.” He seemed flustered, something you didn’t see from him often. “I just…it’s someone in particular.”

Your heart sunk. Nancy, you thought. He had never gotten over her. He was still in love with Nancy.

“You. I want to marry you.”

You froze. You were sure you were just hearing things, going crazy from the lack of sleep and hearing the things you wanted to hear. He had not just said that. “What?” you said, the only thing you could think to say.

“I…” He leaned forward, placing his hand on the side of your face so you were looking at him. “I love you. I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time.”

You gaped at him like an idiot. “Steve…”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I just…I’ve been waiting for the right moment for months, and I just-“

You cut him off by leaning forward and pressing your lips onto his.

Steve wasted no time in kissing you back, pulling you closer to him, closer and closer until you were straddling his lap as his arms wrapped around you and your lips worked together. You moaned against his lips, which drove Steve absolutely crazy.

He put his hands on your ass, grinding you against his lap. He was hard already, like he wanted you bad. Hell, you wanted him just as bad. He groaned into your mouth as your tongues started working together, his hands sliding up and down your body and feeling every part of you.

“God, you-“ he said, totally breathless and pupils blown wide in lust. “You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life.”

That was hard to believe, especially when he’d been so head over heels for Nancy, who in your mind was so much prettier and better than you. But you could tell he was telling the truth.

“I love you,” you said between kisses, finally saying the words that had been on the tip of your tongue for months and months. “I love you. I love you.”

Steve groaned and held you even closer, his erection pressing up against you. It made you impossibly wet, grinding down onto him. You’d only had sex the one time in your life, and you’d thought about it every day since it happened.

“Can I take you to the room?” Steve asked, his voice low as he toyed with the hem of your shirt. “Our room?”

“Yes,” you told him, wanting nothing more.

He lifted you up with little effort, carrying you into the bedroom while you wrapped your arms and legs around him. He carefully laid you down on the bed, careful of your stitches. He pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor before crawling over you still in his pajama pants.

He kissed all over your neck, making you whine, pulling slightly on his hair which made him groan. His hands slowly slid beneath your shirt, pushing it up and up until he took it completely off. You immediately covered your body up with your arms.

“Baby…” Steve murmured. “What are you doing?”

“I just…” you let out a breath. “My body is a lot different than the last time you saw it.”

Steve looked almost hurt. “Baby. You are beautiful. You carried and birthed my child. You could not be any hotter to me.”

Steve’s words almost had you tearing up, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment. You slowly lowered your arms, revealing your body to him. True to his word, Steve looked at you with nothing but love and desire in his eyes.

He kissed all over your body, your stomach, your chest, your neck, your lips. He was worshipping your body, loving every single part of it. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

He started kissing down your body, down between your legs, but you stopped him. “I just want you,” you said, your voice coming out more whiney and pleading than you meant.

Steve smirked. He pulled your pants and panties off the rest of the way. “Well, you have me.”

He pushed his own pants and boxers down, his large election springing free. He was even more massive than you remembered from your drunken night together. It was intimidating.

Steve kissed you on the lips again, a slow, loving, sensual kiss. You felt his tip at your entrance as he rubbed it between your folds, getting his cock nice and wet. “Are you ready?” he asked you, so quiet. You nodded.

He pushed inside, the stretch taking your breath away. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he set a slow pace, his face buried in your neck as he groaned in pleasure. “Jesus,” he moaned. “You are so tight. Feels so good.”

“You’re…huge, Steve,” you whined, making him chuckle breathlessly.

“Is it okay? Is it too much? Should I stop?”

“No, no,” you said quickly. “Keep going. Please.”

Steve obeyed, rocking his hips into you at a slightly

faster pace. The old bed creaked lightly beneath your movements, the headboard knocking into the wall. “Fuck, fuck,” he moaned. “God. I’m not gonna last long. It’s been so long, and you feel like heaven. My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

“Oh, Steve,” you moaned, back arching as he hit that bundle of nerves deep inside. “Feels good. Keep going just like that.”

He intertwined your fingers together above your head, his left hand holding onto your hip. He thrusted into you faster, faster, faster, making the hottest, most sinful noises as he neared release.

“I’m getting close,” he said, hips snapping against you. “Oh, fuck.” He readjusted so he had a hand to lean on while the other dipped between your bodies, rubbing tight circles on your clit.

“Oh!” you moaned at the sudden feeling, pussy clenching around Steve’s cock and making him let out the most pathetic whimper.

“Jesus- Jesus Christ,” he said, breathless. “You’re killin’ me.”

“I’m really close, Steve,” you whined, writhing under him. “Really close.”

“Go ahead and cum for me, sweetheart,” he coaxed. “Let me feel it. Make a mess all on my cock for me.”

Your lips parted in a gasp, eyes rolling back as an orgasm crashed into you. Your pussy clenched around his cock tightly, and Steve cried out, his hips stuttering into you. The second you came down from your orgasm he pulled out, jerking his cock a couple times before he shot ropes of his cum all over your stomach and tits, groaning as he watched. He came so much, covering you in it.

He admired his work for a few seconds as he caught his breath. He had never seen anything hotter. When he was finally back to earth, he hopped off the bed and ran into the attached bathroom, grabbing a towel and coming back to clean you up. “Sorry,” he said with a sheepish smile.

“It’s okay,” you said with a giggle. “That was hot.”

Once you were cleaned up, he collapsed into the bed with you, both still naked. Wrapping his arm around you, he pulled you close into him, spooning you and snuggling his face into the back of your neck.

“I love you,” he said. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too, Steve. So much.”

—

Things found their version of normal eventually. It helped when you could start getting out of the house with Ellie, just getting some fresh air and seeing the outside world. Carol came over a lot, so it wasn’t like you had been totally lonely, but there’s nothing like going out in public.

Ellie was 5 months old. You and Steve had been officially together for 4ish months, and it was going amazing. You had never been happier. You had driven yourself and Ellie to Bradley’s Big Buy on your own for the first time since her birth.

“You wanna ride in the cart?” you asked her, earning a big grin from the baby even though she had no idea what you’d said. You settled her into the front of the cart - taking the time to disinfect it with wipes first. Ellie held onto the bar as you pushed her into the store.

Bread…milk…pasta…dish soap…diapers.

You began grabbing the things you needed, Ellie totally amazed at the world around her. It was adorable to see. But just as you grabbed the bread and were about to leave the aisle, you nearly bumped into someone.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” you said. “I didn’t-“

Nancy.

You froze, just staring at her. She looked different. She had a perm now, and it really suited her. She looked beautiful as she always did.

“It’s…it’s okay,” she said, her eyes roaming to Ellie in the cart. Ellie smiled big at her, and Nancy couldn’t help but return it.

“How…how have you been?” you asked her, unsure if she wanted to talk to you at all.

“Oh. I’ve been good. I got a job at the newspaper. Me and Jonathan just got an apartment together.” She smiled gently.

“That’s great,” you said, and you meant it. You were happy to see her doing well, to see her happy. “I’m glad things are going well for you.”

“Yeah,” she said. “How- how are you?”

You were surprised she asked. “I’m doing well. Recovered from surgery now and everything. Ellie’s doing fantastic.”

“I’m really happy to hear that,” she said, and she seemed genuine. “I heard it was a rough birth.”

“Yeah.” Ellie reached for you, and you grabbed her hand, letting her wrap her tiny fingers around yours. “But, you know, it was worth it. To have her.”

Nancy nodded. “I’m sure.” A pause. “How’s Steve?”

“He’s great. Working for his dad now.” You debated whether to continue. “We, uh…we’ve been together for about 4 months now.”

“Oh,” she said. She didn’t seem upset, like she had expected that. “I’m happy for you both. Steve’s…he’s a good guy.”

You smiled. “Yeah. He is.”

There was a moment of silence between you before Nancy shook her head. “Well. I need to get going, I’m just picking up lunch for the staff. It was…it was good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too, Nance.”

She gave you a polite smile before pushing her cart off. You watched her go, her curly hair disappearing into another aisle.

You weren’t sure what to make of the interaction. She certainly didn’t seem like she hated you anymore. But you knew you would never be friends again, and that part broke your heart.

Maybe there was progress to be made.

—

Life with Steve and Ellie was wonderful. Steve was an amazing dad- the best. He was also an amazing boyfriend. He made you feel loved and cherished, safe and cared for.

He worked with Ellie every day, first down on the floor with her for tummy time, then once she mastered that and grew older, he did his best to teach her how to crawl.

“You know, I crawled backwards as a baby,” he said randomly one day.

“Huh?”

“It’s true,” he said. “I just…” He held his hands up and mimicked crawling backwards.

You laughed hard. “That is so Steve.”

“What does that mean??”

At Christmas, he went all out. He spoiled her as much as he could afford, even though he knew she wouldn’t remember a thing about it or even understand it. Christmas day Steve was the one to wake you up bright and early- “It’s Christmas!!!”

You drank some coffee, taking pictures while Steve sat on the floor with Ellie, helping her open her presents. She was delighted with everything she opened, and you and Steve had a blast watching her enjoy Christmas.

Her first birthday party was a whole occasion, too. It was at the Harrington’s, since they had so much space. Even Steve’s dad softened in the presence of Ellie Harrington. Steve cried when everyone sang her happy birthday.

When you had been together for a year, Steve asked your mom to babysit so he could take you out for dinner to celebrate your anniversary. He wouldn’t tell you where you were going, but told you to dress fancy.

You wore a red dress that hugged your curves in the most perfect way. Steve nearly started drooling when he saw you. But you felt the same way about him, dressed up nice.

He took you to Enzo’s, a place you’d never been. “Get anything you want,” he said. “I don’t want you to worry about the price tonight.”

You tried your best to ignore the exorbitant prices as you scanned the menu, eventually deciding on a chicken alfredo. The food was delicious, you practically moaned when you took your first bite.

“I would order us some wine, but I get the feeling they won’t fall for my fake ID here,” Steve said, making you laugh. You drank sparkling water instead, still in the fancy spirit.

After dinner you shared a piece of chocolate cake. You speared a bite onto your fork and held it out to Steve, who happily opened his mouth to let you feed it to him before he did the same to you. You giggled, feeling both very grown up and also like a couple of kids.

After you finished dessert, you were full. You were ready to get the check and head home back to Ellie when Steve spoke up, saying your name.

“Baby,” he said. “I…I wanted to ask you something.”

You looked at him curiously. “What is it?”

He reached into his pocket, then stood. When he got down on one knee, you gasped, covering your mouth with your hands, the tears falling already.

He said your full name, looking deep into your eyes as he opened the box, revealing the most beautiful diamond ring you’d ever laid eyes on. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes! Oh my god, yes yes yes.”

Steve smiled as he slipped the ring onto your finger - a perfect fit. He stood and pulled you into a kiss as the entire restaurant clapped for you - a literal dream come true.

Forever with the love of your life.

Stay tuned for the sequel baby daddy series!!

tag list

@crispystarfishhottub @luveediary @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @melaninjhs @talkativecarnation @cherrypieyourface @lanalosty0uu @rubythornexxx @meeuhsworld

2K notes · View notes

astonmartinii · 7 months ago

Text

other side of the moon: chapter four | formula one imagine

chapter four: matchstick men

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

the cocktail party is fun while it lasts, late guests throw y/n’s decision into question but also show her just who she’s a mentor to.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | SERIES MASTERLIST

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

there was a january chill in the monaco air as max and y/n exited the dutchman’s apartment complex and started their short walk to kimi’s place. y/n pulled the shawl around her tighter, the light material of her slip dress doing nothing to keep the heat in.

“i told you you were going to be cold,” max teased, pulling her into a side hug, rubbing his free hand up and down her arm, “are you sure you don’t want me to run back and get your jumper?”

y/n leaned further into the dutchman’s warmth but shook her head, if she was really that cold by the time they made it to kimi’s she’d just had to steal something from them.

“sometimes you have to make sacrifices to look this good maxy,” y/n said, poking her tongue out at him, “and that includes hypothermia!”

“you don’t need to do anything, you’re perfect the way you are. i should’ve known you were still the same diva from karting when you still managed to look perfect in that ghastly shade of orange.”

“a dutchman who doesn’t like orange, now this is a scandal!”

“i like my orange, my shade - not that ugly papaya. i like you in my orange.”

“well if you play your cards right i might just wear some in zandvoort. they might be paying me a lot, but no one can pay me enough to wear that ugly uniform.”

max tightened his grip on y/n as they turned the corner to kimi and ollie’s place. there, in front of their door, stood the pair… in suits.

“did i miss the memo of this being a black tie event?” max yells, making the two boys jump, “now i look like i just rolled out of bed!”

“you always look like you’ve just rolled out of bed, we’re lucky i put all of your red bull merch in the wash so you’d wear something different tonight.”

kimi came to stand by y/n, she looked down at the italian and fixed his collar.

“are the suits too much? we wanted to make a good impression but… are they all going to laugh at us?” his voice was small and the way he craned his head to look at y/n made him look even smaller.

“no! it’s cute, you guys are going the extra mile and that means a lot. plus if they have a problem with you dapper gents, then they’ll have a problem with me!”

kimi giggled as the pair started on their way to charles’, ollie hung back and turned to max, “thank you for convincing her to say yes, he hasn’t stopped bouncing off the walls since.”

max slapped ollie’s back, “he convinced her all himself. that letter had her immediately, i think she has this weird belief that we’re not all over the moon she’s back. she’s been more herself in these past few days since meeting him than she has in three years. trust me mate, she was a shell of herself. hell, i would’ve given him the second red bull seat years ago if i knew he would bring the real her back to me.”

“i don’t think you have the power to give out the second red bull seat?” ollie pointed out, max shushed him loudly, “that’s what we want you to think.”

up ahead, y/n and kimi had linked arms like they were old friends.

“i don’t want you to be nervous going here tonight. i know my whole retirement to solitude may look like i don’t like anyone in formula one but truth be told they’re all big nerds. i expect you thought max was this big massive asshole before you met him properly but we all know he’s a big softie inside.”

kimi let out a deep breath, “i know i’ve technically met all of them, i mean i’ve been to countless race weekends now, but i’m still scared - i don’t want them to treat me like a kid, i’m a competitor!”

y/n laughed even though truth be told she was guilty of treating kimi like her long lost child, hair ruffles and cheek pinches, the lot. kimi tugged on her arm, “what was it like when you first met the drivers? not like on the grid where everyone is on their best behaviour, but when you truly met them?”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

march 2020 - bahrain testing.

“i’m nervous! what if they hate me!”

y/n whined, throwing the entire contents of her suitcase at george sat on the bed. despite having meticulously planned about a million different outfits for the annual post-test party, she was at a loss for what to wear.

“did you smash into them during preseason? did you piss in their coffee? no! so you’ll be fine, stop worrying.”

“but what if they still hate me?” the look on her face was so genuine that george’s heart broke a little.

“no one can be angry at you for too long,” george laughed, “i’m sure that even if you shunted them into the first wall you they’d be here grovelling first thing.”

pelting another piece of clothing at george’s head, “what like you? i remember monaco last year. how long did it take you?”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, i’m a broody, stoic stallion, i don’t grovel.”

“your delivery of artisan croissants and a teary monologue about how much i mean to you says different…”

a blush breaks out over george’s face at the memory. he’d hardly covered himself in glory in monaco he’d admit that, but every ounce of common sense left stage right when he saw y/n lean in and lick the line of salt off of mick’s hand.

“i treasure our friendship, i didn’t want to lose you over a dumb drunk argument,” george said, taking her hand in his, “i’m older now and i know when i should and when i shouldn’t step in. you’re old enough and ugly enough to look out for yourself.”

the pair had been friends since they first started karting against each other. y/n was nervous, lining up against a grid of boys for the first time but george had come right over and introduced himself, prim and proper handshakes and all.

y/n finally found the dress she had been looking for in the worryingly big pile of clothes, jumping up with a pleased grin. she ran to the bathroom and pulled it on, a short black sequin dress with boots and a black leather jacket on top. y/n thought she looked mysterious enough without looking like she was attending a funeral.

“what do you think georgie? does it scream ‘don’t take me out on track or i’ll kill you’ but also a healthy amount of ‘i’m a scared little girl don’t be mean to me or i’ll cry’?”

george was speechless, his mouth open but no words finding their way out. y/n did a little spin but he was still sputtering and running his hand through his hair like a mad man. he cleared his throat and stood up abruptly, “you look amazing y/n, i mean seriously amazing but i just remembered that i think i left the iron on in my room and i don’t want to burn the entire hotel down!”

he rushed towards the door, flinging it open, “williams definitely can’t afford that, i’ll see you later!”

he took off running down the hotel corridor, very nearly barrelling into alex who was on his way to y/n’s room.

“where’s he off to?” alex asked, coming into the room and making his way straight to the mini bar.

“he said he left the iron on in his room? i don’t know. he just started freaking out for like no reason. i just asked him whether this outfit is cute enough for tonight and he just sat there like i told him his whole family is dead and bolted.”

“weird.”

“so weird, right?” y/n made her way back to the bathroom to start her makeup, “i don’t know what came over him, is my outfit really that offensive? alex, you’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”

“i think it might have been too much for george, but he’s being a weird puritan maniac recently, so?”

y/n poked her head past the door, “you’re so right. he’s posted about a hundred topless photos since making it to formula one but got so angry at me for licking mick’s hand!”

y/n was so close to the point it was right in front of her, but much to alex’s disappointment it looked as if she was just as useless as the rest of them. he tried to hide his annoyance on his face, but y/n still caught onto it.

“did you think that was bad too?! have you people never done tequila shots? so do you think this is too slutty for a driver party?”

alex shot up, nearly spilling his drink all over y/n’s bed, “no! george was being a weirdo about the tequila salt thing, had a proper bee in his bonnet that night. you look great, don’t change. i think he’s going through boy things…”

alex did not sound convinced by his own words, but he would work with it. y/n was confused until alex picked up a pillow and mimed putting it in a very specific spot and it finally clicked.

“he got a boner?!”

alex barked out a laugh, “oh tell the whole floor why don’t you? be quiet!”

y/n could not keep her laughs in, folding over with tears streaming down her face. this would definitely explain the emergency exit.

“you cannot tell him i told you, swear it!” alex hissed, grabbing y/n’s hand, “please, he’ll kill me and you know him he’s weirdly sadistic he’d go all dexter on me!”

the two linked pinky fingers, “i promise to never tell george that you told me he got a boner from me in a leather jacket”

“didn’t have to go into that much detail, but yeah i promise too.”

y/n touched her makeup as alex finished off his drink, “but you’re sure this is okay? everyone knows that the real time you meet the grid is when they’re all drunk.”

“you look great, stop worrying. i think george would agree, little george as well-” y/n pelted a pillow at him.

“i just fixed my makeup, don’t make me cry laugh again!”

y/n slipped her shoes on and the pair made their way down to the lobby and across the street to the bar. it was very laidback, completely empty bar the other drivers and some of their significant others.

“about time you guys turned up!” daniel called out from the table most of the drivers were huddled around.

“sorry all, um, we had something to iron out - ouch!” alex said before an elbow to the side from y/n cut him off. the rest of the table were none the wiser but george was suddenly infatuated with his drink, hoping the small umbrella in the glass could cover his blush.

amongst all of the chaos of welcomes, lance pulled up a chair for y/n and asked what she would be having to drink. “just a tequila sunrise for me lance, if they do them. thank you.”

the canadian gave her a little salute before heading to the bar. pulling up his own chair beside her, alex grumbles a little ‘don’t ask me if i want a drink then’ and gets another shove.

daniel claps loudly, silencing the table. he turns to y/n theatrically, wiggling his eyebrows. “so, to our lonely rookie of the season here, a couple of questions.”

the table all turned to her and y/n let out a nervous chuckle, fiddling with her jacket - where was lance with that drink?

“we won’t be hazing you, no worries. no that’s actually illegal, although i am curious as to your karaoke song of choice… we’re getting off topic! my burning question is… growing up with half of the grid you must have a rolodex of embarrassing stories about them. spill. i’m talking embarrassing falls, pissing in their karts or awkward boners, i want all of it!”

daniel looked at her earnestly, waiting on her response. this was a little overwhelming, lance had returned with her drink, alex was trying to keep his laughs at the mention of boners and charles was fixed on her with a death glare - guess the waterpark story was out of the question.

all of the focus was on her and it was overwhelming. y/n was somewhat used to having people watch her every move, you get used to that as the only girl in paddocks where people are just waiting for you to fail.

“i don’t know if i want to make enemies on the grid this early on,” y/n said, looking shyly at daniel to see whether this would be considered a good enough answer.

“very diplomatic, very diplomatic indeed,’ daniel said, pondering, “you’ll do well with the media with answers like that.”

“you learn quick as a girl in this sport.”

the entire table quietened again, although a lot more awkward this time. great first impression. daniel broke the silence once again, “not that we’re going to haze you, but just out of interest, what IS your go to karaoke song?”

“man i feel like a woman,” y/n answered without hesitation, seeing a wide smile break out on daniel’s face, “i think we’ll get along very well, rookie,” daniel replies. the aussie stands up and drags her to the bar, proclaiming that they ‘simply must do some shots together on account of being his new best friend’. y/n was not complaining, this was the first driver outside of the 2019 rookies and max who was expressing actual interest in friendship.

max had always gushed about daniel during and after their time at red bull together. y/n was surprised she hadn’t seen the dutchman yet that evening, but recalled him saying that he wanted to let her get to know the others, not wanting to hover over her like an overprotective parent.

another figure slipped in beside her at the bar and when she turned she came face to face with none other than sebastian vettel. the german gave her a soft smile and said, “i hope tonight wasn’t too daunting for you, we’re all very excited to have you on the grid, though some more than others.”

y/n raised her eyebrow, imploring him to continue. “the way max insists on praising you at every turn i thought your name was already on the second red bull.”

she let out a short laugh, “max does like talking…”

“oh he’s been showing us your formula two highlights all season, gushing about your lines and how we’ll all have to watch our backs this season.”

daniel finally got their shots and butted into the conversation, “max literally hasn’t shut up since you started in formula two, he’s all in on the y/n train.”

y/n smiled. she knew max was a big supporter of hers but hearing it from others made her heart swell.

the trio headed back to the main group who in the short time at the bar had managed to consume a worrying amount of alcohol. there was something surreal about seeing world champions struggle to string a sentence together or keep their heads up straight.

“oh my god what happened? how are they this fucked? we were gone for like five minutes?”

sebastian chuckled, looking over to fernando who was practically sat on a very bemused kimi raikkonen’s lap, “some of us have tasted the glory of winning the championship, so when you know that your car is nowhere near that this season, you cope in your own way.”

the bar had descended into chaos, looking closer to a renaissance painting than a sophisticated night out amongst high performance athletes. alex was sat in the same seat but now found himself flanked by two of his rookie class who now closely resembles a pair of clingy cats. y/n was sure she even saw lando, for the lack of a better word, nuzzle alex’s neck.

when checo appeared with an entire platter of tequila shots, alex took that as his cue to take lando and george home before they got their hands on any more alcohol.

“do you want some help with them?” y/n asked, watching alex wrangle the two drivers towards the exit.

“no, i can handle them. if you think this is bad, you should’ve seen them last year, proper made a fool of themselves. stay and get to know everyone, soon they’ll be so drunk you’ll have some good blackmail material on them.”

y/n hadn’t thought about that. not that she’d ever blackmail a fellow driver…

“well good luck getting them back to their rooms, see you tomorrow!”

y/n turned back to the mess in the bar. max was pouring pure gin in pierre’s mouth, charles was trying (key word, trying) to slow dance with sebastian despite the only music playing being edm and kevin magnussen was already asleep at the main table with nico hulkenberg and lance stacking coasters on his head.

“enjoying the circus?” a voice asks her from behind, y/n turned to see none other than kimi raikkonen. trying not to show her nerves, y/n took one of the drinks kimi was holding.

“i think i am. it’s a bit overwhelming.”

kimi nodded. there was a silence between them but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“are you excited for your first formula one race?”

“i am. i just want to show mclaren that they made the right decision on me.”

“you’ll be fine, trust me. i watched you in testing. i know that doesn’t mean much when it comes to the actual pace of the car, but you already had good control over the car. have faith in yourself.”

all of the praise from everyone else was nice but to get that many words out of kimi, it all was real now.

“thank you kimi, i hope we get to race this season. you’re a hero of mine.”

“that makes me feel old.”

“oh! i didn’t me too-”

“i’m kidding. most people would’ve chosen seb or lewis as they’re heroes.”

“oh i admire them, but there was only one blonde i loved in formula one.”

kimi let out a little laugh. the two sat there, observing for a couple of moments.

“don’t trust anyone,” kimi said suddenly, turning to y/n. “huh?”

“don’t trust anyone. i’m sorry that it’ll likely be worse for you, but these people they’re not really your friends, not when you’re in the car and everything is on the line. you can’t take it personally but you can prepare yourself. you’re a girl, so people will take their side more often than not. just know you’re here for a reason, they can’t push you around without repercussions.”

y/n took a second to let it sink in. there were things that managers and friends from outside the sport had warned her about, but a reminder from someone like kimi made it really resonate.

“i guess i’ll just have to be so fast that they can’t get near me.”

kimi laughed, properly this time. they clinked their glasses and went back to watching the mess unfold before them.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

yourusername

may 2020.

liked by alexalbon, lewishamilton and 1,289,409 others

tagged: georgerussell63, fernandoalo_oficial & landonorris

yourusername: that’s one way to get introduced to the grid

view all comments

user1: the way i’d actually give a kidney to have been here

user2: so much i need to know, so little information

user3: george and lando are never getting rid of the lightweight allegations

yourusername: as long as i am living and breathing those allegations will live on

landonorris: and when i sue you for slander

yourusername: come for me baby i know the law

landonorris: bring it on, the mclaren legal team love me

yourusername: they’ll take one look at my camera roll and laugh in your face xxx

landonorris: CAMERA ROLL?

yourusername: sleep well

landonorris: i will ruin your life rookie

user4: mclaren duo you are so precious

user5: now i have them, i can never see them at different teams

user6: they’re my prediction for biggest surprise this season

maxverstappen1: who keeps leaving bottles of gin unattended around me

yourusername: why can’t you control yourself around them

maxverstappen1: gin talks to me like the green goblin mask

yourusername: that much is clear

yourusername: poor pierre was sent into a different dimension that night

pierregasly: still better than my red bull experience

user7: this girl has chemistry with everyone damn

user8: bro sees a girl having banter with someone and loses his mind

user9: this is why the ‘friend zone’ exists because you guys mistake a girl being nice or funny for flirting

alexalbon: i miss out on so much because those dumbasses can’t handle liquor

yourusername: you should’ve just left them to die?

alexalbon: i fear both mclaren and williams know my address

georgerussell63: i don’t know where this is all coming from?

alexalbon: you threw up in the shower?

georgerussell63: i don’t recall this therefore it didn’t happen

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

“george got a boner? can i use that as blackmail for a quali tow?” kimi gasped, clutching his metaphorical pearls.

“do not tell him i told you that,” y/n thought for a second, “or you can, i don’t really care.”

the four of them approached charles’ house and could already hear the hustle and bustle from inside. y/n went to ring the bell but kimi grabbed her hand quickly,

“you’re sure this will be okay?”

the italian had a little shake in his voice.

“you’re going to be fine, everyone will love you, okay? stop doubting yourself.”

she finally rung the bell and the group could hear the silence sweep throughout the house. the door swung open to reveal charles who was already pink in the face, telling y/n that the monagasque had already been amongst the drinks.

“well look what the cat dragged in,” charles said looking her up and down. the three behind her were suddenly weary, charles’ face had hardened when his eyes landed on y/n. “i’ve fucking missed you!”

charles pulled her into a tight hug. the world had stopped. y/n hadn’t spoken to charles since the crash and three years of silence was suddenly pouring out of both of them. tears slipped out from both of them, pulling each other so tight like they were trying to fall into each other’s bodies.

“as touching as this all is, it’s fucking freezing out here and i’d love that cocktail i was promised?”

max broke the silence in his typical fashion and charles finally acknowledged the three others. his smile turned wicked when he realised what kimi and ollie were wearing.

“oh mon amis, those suits are just too cute!”

y/n peered over charles’ shoulder with a very clear ‘i told you so’ written on her face. charles pulled on ollie’s hands, muttering about how well dressed his son is, and ushered the rest of them into his home.

kimi, ollie and max continued down the corridor and into the common space with the other attendees but y/n and charles hung back.

“i’m being serious, i really missed you,” charles said, “i really haven’t been the friend i should’ve been during all of this. i know i hurt you and i don’t expect you to forgive me, but know i am sorry, truly.”

the tears had returned to charles’ eyes once again. y/n tried to summon the anger that she had festered in for three years, but here, stood face to face with charles, she just couldn’t. the monegasque looked so wrecked and she knew that wasn’t a lie. y/n, through common sense but also the advice of her therapist, had never seen the race that ended her career. however, in a weak moment of social media addiction, y/n had stumbled upon a clip of charles’ radio. it was a compilation of his radios across the year, including grosjean’s fireball, pierre’s near miss in japan a couple years ago and finally, silverstone 2022.

“holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck! is that y/n?”

“i can confirm it is y/ln, we are waiting for news from mclaren”

“is she okay? has she responded on the radio?”

“no news yet charles, stay in delta and come to the pit lane.”

“anyone but her, god please. please be okay, please, please, please. not another one, don’t take another one.”

shivers had wrung up her spine when she had heard it. the weekend had been so traumatic that she had hardly stopped to think about anyone else. the crash had unleashed such an ugly anger within her, so powerful that just a glimpse of a formula one car made her feel so vulnerable to her emotions. instead of facing it head on, it just felt easier to hide and to try and forget.

“hey, hey,” y/n took charles’ face in her hands, “look at me okay, i have no hard feeling against you. you don’t need to be sorry, these things happen. i did what i thought i had to do and that was hide. was it healthy? no, but i hate that my silence might have made you think that i blame you in any way.”

charles let out a wet laugh and y/n continued, “i heard your radio, for the first time a couple months ago. i know what you’ve been through, i should’ve spoken to you.”

charles shook his head, “you did what you needed to do, i won’t ever hold it against you. i’m just glad you’re here now, we can make up for lost time now. although i am pretty offended that you didn’t come back for me but for this kid?”

“kimi is a lot nicer than all of you dummies,” y/n poked her tongue out, “and once he looks at you like a lil puppy, you can’t say no.”

y/n smiled to herself, and charles replicated it. the two just existed together for a moment, listening to the greetings down the hall. a small shiver of doubt made its way up y/n’s spine. the reunion with charles had gone well, but would everyone else look past her three year silence?

“they’re looking forward to seeing you,” charles said, nudging y/n closer to the action. she took a small breath and made her way to the common area.

all conversation ceased when she took her first step in the room. max, kimi, ollie and alex all smiled at he, trying to ease her into the room. carlos looked happy to see her, but as always there was something off in his eyes, like he didn’t quite trust her and oscar was there? y/n had never met the aussie but had heard he was a little standoffish.

oscar couldn’t even make eye contact with her, he looked anywhere else, charles’ white ceiling suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. that was odd.

“welcome back!” alex yelled, making everyone else jump, “i have missed you so much, so much has happened. please never disappear again!” he said, wrapping her in a hug. y/n snuggled in closer, breathing in the familiar scent of her friend. drawing back she looked up at him with a strange look,

“have you changed your cologne?”

“well, i’d like to think i have changed a lot in three years, but yes i have?”

“do you have a girlfriend?”

“tell me you don’t check my instagram why don’t you? yes i do, you’ll have to come to dinner at some point. lily is very excited you’re coming back, she says we don’t shut up about you.”

y/n was so happy for alex, “you smell like a girl, she’s done wonders for you.”

alex’s smile fell immediately, “i didn’t miss this, you didn’t get any nicer in your break huh?”

“still a bitch i fear.”

everyone was back engrossed in their conversations, with carlos keeping his distance from y/n by busying himself with charles at the bar. y/n saw oscar again, hovering by ollie, trying and failing to conceal his staring.

“is oscar usually this weird with new people?” y/n asked alex, “he’s staring but also can’t make eye contact without looking like he’s going to shit himself.”

“oh he’s got massive survivors guilt, which is a weird way to put it considering he wasn’t in the race that day, but…”

oh. now it makes sense. “i see, i should probably talk to him shouldn’t i?”

“you can if you want to but you also don’t owe anyone anything? it’s your choice.”

y/n looked over again and oscar again quickly diverted his eyes. here goes nothing. making her way to the other group of drivers, oscar started looking for his escape.

“hi guys, are you okay if i steal the aussie for a second?”

the rest of the group didn’t care but oscar sputtered out a, “really? i’m okay, you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to?”

“come on,” y/n took ahold of his arm, “let’s go talk somewhere else.”

the aussie looked nervous but he followed y/n through charles house. after trying a couple doors, the finally found a study and the pair sat down. oscar couldn’t stop fidgeting, he felt the sweat beading at his brow and the collar of his shirt was starting to strangle him.

“do you want to tell me why you’re so nervous?” y/n asked, “as far as i’m aware, you’ve done nothing to warrant this?”

oscar didn’t say anything. he didn’t know how to word it without sounding like an idiot.

“i just thought you would maybe resent me for taking your seat? i’m sorry for being such a weirdo about it. i know it was a dick move from me to not even bring you up but there was this whole thing with mark and zak, but i should’ve listened to myself, i’m sorry…”

it all spilled out at once and oscar just looked at her horrified. did she even know about mark and zak?

“oscar, i don’t resent you for taking the seat. i can’t say i’ve watched much more than just the races, so i can’t say for sure you’re the greatest guy off the track, although the fact you were even invited here tells me so, but you more than deserved that seat. yes, it’s unfortunate the way it became available, but i’ll never resent a racer for following his dreams.”

oscar let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, “thank you, you don’t know the amount of sleepless nights i had after i took the seat. i thought that maybe you would come back and either i’d have to give it up or i’d keep it and stop you from coming back. i mean you’re a hero of mine and all i could think was ‘am i an asshole for taking this from you when you’re still in hospital?’”

y/n sighed, “i won’t lie, it hurt. but not because of you. a full lifetime of work was snuffed out in one second. i understand formula one is a business but i don’t think zak knows that i could hear everything while i was in the medically induced coma.”

oscar’s head shot up at the mention of zak’s name and this told y/n everything she needed to know.

“he was on the phone just five minutes after the nurse told him i’d never be able to get in a formula one car again. my racing body wasn’t even cold yet. i do know it was mark on the phone. i’ve not held it against him, unless there’s something you’d like to tell me?”

was it betrayal if he told y/n? everything had already happened and the truth was y/n knowing wasn’t going to change anything. but if he didn’t say then y/n could decide to go back and watch interviews and videos and see what a big liar he was.

“him and zak had this weird thing they were stuck on. like i said you’re a hero of mine, and i still wanted to honour you in any way i could. i had a plan to have a 13 on my helmet, i even wanted to dedicate my first win to you. but i wasn’t allowed. they said i needed to leave you in the past or it would make me look weak.”

tears were falling down oscar’s face as y/n pulled him into a hug. the aussie shook with the strength of his sobs.

“i’m a grown man, i should’ve told them no, but i had just gotten there. i’m sorry, i wish i had a back bone.”

y/n ran her hands through his hair, comforting the younger driver, “oscar, don’t worry. i don’t take any offence. you forget i raced under zak, i know what an asshole he can be. you don’t have to do anything to make it up to me, just don’t be a stranger in the paddock. i may be there for kimi, but you can still come to me.”

y/n wasn’t sure how lando was treating oscar, had he started off kind with him and flipped on his head as well? it couldn’t hurt to check.

“i know lando can be difficult, so don’t think you’re alone okay? i know how it feels, so come complain to me if you need to.”

oscar laughed, “i know exactly what you’re talking about. did you watch hungary this year? that was a mess, it was so awkward in the garage after that. it’s creepy how he can turn it on for a video right? i don’t know what happened between you but it’s almost like he knew i wanted to dedicate it to you? he asked me like ten times whether i dedicated it to anyone.”

okay, that was a problem. y/n had stupidly thought that maybe lando going cold turkey from her for three years might have made whatever weird vendetta he had against her disappear, or at least lessen.

“if i’m being completely honest, i’m not sure what happened between us. we obviously grew up together and were close from that, we all were, but as soon as the racing started he just switched up, and by the sounds of it, it hasn’t gotten better in my absence.”

the pair moved to the bathroom to get oscar some tissues and make him look a little more presentable. fixing his hair, y/n said, “i’m serious oscar, there’s no hard feelings. i’m proud of you-”

y/n was cut off with some commotion coming from the common area. the pair looked at each other and hurried to the scene of the noise. there stood george and lando, they both looked like they had grown up, lando sporting some facial hair and george in a suprisingly formal getup.

both brits locked on y/n and oscar as they returned.

“so one mclaren driver wasn’t enough for you? you had to go and seduce oscar as well?”

lando accused, a look of pure disgust on his face, “he’s got a girlfriend as well, do you have any respect for yourself?”

y/n burst out laughing, looking bewildered at lando. “is this guy serious?” she asked looking around the room, most of them looking just as shocked as her at his outburst.

“i don’t know what you’re laughing at,” lando said and turned to oscar, “i really thought you’d last more than five minutes mate.”

“lando, i don’t know what you’re problem is, but we were clearing the air about me taking the seat after her crash. you know, we spoke, like normal fucking people. just because you couldn’t spend more than five minutes with the one girl in the sport without wanting to fuck her doesn’t mean i don’t see her as an actual person.”

oscar replied, standing in front of y/n who was shocked but also impressed by the aussie’s take down of his own teammate. lando glared at his teammate, “you know having her on side will do nothing for this bullshit bid you have to be the number one driver this season. in fact i remember her launching a plot like that herself, and look how that ended.”

one second lando was smirking in front of oscar and y/n and next he was on the floor, all courtesy of kimi. the italian was looming over lando, the angriest anyone in the room had ever seen him. ollie tried to grab his hand, but he yanked it back and set his sights back on lando.

“you really are the dumbest person in the world aren’t you?”

lando was speechless, still on the floor.

“she could’ve said so much about you, your team and the bullshit you both put her through, but she didn’t. we all know you were an asshole to her, she could’ve ruined this dumb boy next door act you’ve got going, but she didn’t. so you should think yourself lucky.”

kimi felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see y/n. he stood up, moving away from lando and let y/n lead him towards the exit just as the other one decided to pipe up.

“she’s a bit old for you isn’t she, buddy?” george’s voice rung out, “or are you really going for the max verstappen route, problematic older woman and everything?”

that was a low blow. kelly was a sore subject for max, y/n didn’t really know much about her, just that they got together and broke up during the time that y/n was first moved to london. max had been the only one to know where she was, but that was only months after she had moved. y/n never met her and only heard about her when max had visited and gave her a life update that included a whirlwind romance.

“that’s a bold choice george,” max said, getting in his face, “isn’t kimi like a son to toto? you really think he’s choosing you over him? you were just a bed warmer for him when lewis had pissed him off. we all know he’d choose kimi and well, that he’d do anything for me, so are we really the ones you want to try and go toe to toe with?”

george narrowed his eyes at max, “i went through so much trouble for that girl back then, i hope you’re not getting your hopes up. she’ll just lead you on like she did to us, you’re just a stepping stone to her.”

“i am right here, you know? you don’t have to talk about me like i’m not?”

george’s head whipped around to her direction, “you were fine not talking for three years. why now? why come back now? there’s nothing for you there? or do you have an ulterior motive? are you using kimi to sabotage me?”

y/n let out another laugh in disbelief, “are you being serious right now? you can’t be this seriously delusional. despite popular belief, to you, not everything i do, is to do with you. both of you seem to have such an inflated view of your place in my life, please sleep well knowing i don’t want anything to do with either of you.”

charles interrupted, “i invited you two because i thought you would be happy to see y/n, why are you ruining my night? i brought olives and you’re bringing the mood down!”

“yes, i think it’s time you guys left.” max said, ready to escort them himself, with force if necessary.

the two gave y/n a final dirty look before storming out of charles’ house. y/n didn’t understand how it had gotten so bad between them, she longed for the times when they’d sneak out for ice cream at karting competitions and tell each other ghost stories. she wanted those times back so badly, but with displays like tonights she wasn’t sure if it was worth it. maybe those bridges had burnt the moment her car hit the wall.

the atmosphere in the room was thick, no one knew what to say following what ever they just witnessed.

“i guess we don’t outgrow the pettiness. ever.” ollie said, downing his drink, “if that’s what formula one does to a man i need another drink.”

charles started working behind his home bar and with the silence broken, the conversation started again.

“y/n i’m sorry i brought you back into this. i just wanted to have you as a mentor and try and get you to fall back in love with the sport, i didn’t want to bring you into a civil war where you get accused of seducing everyone.”

“kimi, i am happy to be here and we will work together. they don’t mean anything to me, okay? the things they say is water off a duck’s back for me now.”

“as long as you’re sure, i want you to enjoy it.”

“there’s enough of you i love to stick around. i’ve only known you for a short while, but the way you go for the things you want and stand up for what you believe makes me believe. they don’t matter to us. what matters is you and your car, and we will prove them all wrong.”

max slipped his arm around her shoulder as she spoke to kimi. “do you want to go?”

y/n looked back to kimi, “are you okay if we go? you and ollie can stay and enjoy yourself, rinse charles for as much as he’s worth.”

kimi nodded and hugged y/n. “see you soon, thank you again.”

“no worries, bunny.”

y/n and the dutchman grabbed their stuff and made their way to the door. charles escorted them out, “sorry it became such a downer, but i still liked seeing you again. we’ll have to get lunch some time before testing, arthur has been bothering me about meeting you.”

the pair ventured back out into the wind, a strained silence between them. “you know none of us believe what they said, right?”

“unfortunately, i’m very used to it maxy,” y/n said, leaning into him, “but it doesn’t bother me anymore. the people i care about know me, that’s all that matters.”

“just say the word and i’ll make their lives hell.”

“that’s noble, max, but i’m okay.”

“you let them get away with too much, y/n. seriously, what they just did was fucked up.”

“maybe to them i did do those things?”

“don’t say that,” max said stopping her, “they’re being childish. they can’t act like they have and expect that you’ll just fall into their arms.”

“do you think i’ll fall into your arms?”

“no. maybe? i don’t know, i want whatever you want. you know how i feel about you, but i just want you in my life. you’re the only one who has always really known me. we were so young and you saw me, not my dad and not my driving, but me. i will forever be grateful for you, it’s in your hands.”

“it’s all so confusing, max. if i do anything i just prove their point. at this moment i just need to exist. but i’d like to exist with you.”

“i’d like to exist with you too.”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

fin.

note: it's the drama mick i love it! a big bust up chap for you all, and boy have i been tired this weekend so this took a lil longer than i wanted it to. testing next!!!

taglist: @folkloresreputation @hc-dutch @shimmermotorsport @96mcobo @eclipsedcherry @formulaal @czennieszn @gothicwidowsworld @emily-b @suns3treading @henna006 @kazgirl20 @anotherapollokid @littlegrapejuice @daemyratwst @annimausi @yawn-zi @lulu-1998 @xsilkesworld @justaf1girl @daddyslittlevillain @evans-dejong @abq654 @elizamoe133 @wierdflowerpower @t1nkerbel1 @okcurran @raizelchrysanderoctavius @skepvids @multilovebot @fernandoalonso14 @jules-kup-172 @m4xgirlie @rorabelle15 @minkyungseokie @formula1-motogpfan @peterholland04 @miureiz @freyathehuntress @lighttsoutlewis @aleatorio1234 @chaosandevelyn @blueberry648579 @dog-and-cat-person230 @fastandcurious16 @obxstiles @cosmicwintr @becca388510 @savagittariuspy @tibadi @thisbitxhs-blog @finn-dot-com @scenesofobx @moofilms @alilstressyandlotdepressy @nana-love-bugzzz @mayax2o07 @obsessed-fan-alert

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #charles leclerc #max verstappen #ollie bearman #kimi antonelli #alex albon #oscar piastri #lando norris #george russell

1K notes · View notes