#yeah getting outed and then not knowing that you were outed for months is.....yeah

[rafesangelita]

♡ bitchy!kook!reader finally lets rafe fuck..

warnings: making out, slight degradation, teasing, fingering, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, praise, multiple orgasms

a/n: thank you to the anon who sent in this prompt request for my follower celly! i accidentally deleted your ask ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

you didn’t expect things to get this heated, this fast, both you and rafe messily kissing each other in the darkness of his room, his playlist playing softly in the background while his hands didn’t leave a single inch of you untouched. you could feel his hard-on poking you through the thin lace material of your panties, your resolve crumbling more and more as you let yourself get lost in the taste of him, your desire to surrender and give into his advances only growing with each filthy sentence he spoke to you. “remember all that tough shit you were talking? ‘saying i couldn’t handle all of this but here you are fucking dripping for it..”

you whimpered, your head rolling to the side as rafe planted his lips on your neck, his hand snaking down underneath the hem of your skirt until his fingers slipped below the waistband of your underwear. “you know i can make you feel so good, baby, just give me the word..” he whispered, his teeth lightly grazing your flesh just as his fingertips dipped between your folds, a curse falling from his mouth as your slick allowed him to stroke your clit with ease. you gasped softly, your nails digging into his skin as he rubbed hard, firm circles around your sensitive bud. “come on..” rafe encouraged you quietly, “let me fuck you.”

you sighed softly, your eyes fluttering closed as he moved his lips down from your neck to your chest, his digits continuing their ministrations on your needy cunt. you couldn’t believe you were finally giving into him, all the months of begging and pleading with you to let him have his way all coming to an end once you nodded, your boyfriend cursing under his breath as he tried to his best to keep his composure. rafe’s fingers prodded at your entrance, the sensation making you panic before you stopped him. “wait—!” you panted, slightly embarrassed, “i’ve never done this before, rafe..”

upon hearing your words, rafe used his free hand to grip the back of your neck, his gaze scanning down your pretty face as his chest rose and fell in disbelief. your usual bitchy expression was long gone and was now replaced with what looked like intimidation, your brow etched with worry as you watched the realization dawn on him. “holy shit—” rafe laughed, “you’re a virgin?” you looked away from him, avoiding his burning gaze. “don’t be weird about it, you’re not special.” rafe scoffed, his jaw clenching as he pushed his fingertips into you. crying out, your nails raked down his toned chest, the burning tension making you wince.

“these are just my fingers, babe.. if you can barely handle this, just imagine when i’m fucking you balls deep.” the thought alone made you shudder, a shiver running down your spine as rafe began filling you up with digits, your walls fluttering around the welcomed intrusion. “gentle, please..” you whimpered, a hiss leaving your lips when he pulled at the roots of your hair, forcing you to look at him as he started thumbing at your clit. “gentle?” he laughed, “why would i be gentle with you? you’re not special.” rafe used your words from earlier against you before curling his digits and hitting that soft spot inside of you, your head falling onto his shoulder at the added stimulation.

“m’gonna make you cum all over my fingers, ‘get you all nice and stretched out before i fuck you stupid, yeah?” you whined, wrapping your arms around his neck as your breathing grew sporadic, the heavy tension in your core making your limbs feel like jelly. “fuckkk!” you squealed, burying your face in his chest as you felt the sudden snap in your tummy, your pussy squeezing around rafe’s digits like a vice. you saw stars behind the backs of your eyes, your thighs trembling as he held your hips down to keep you from moving away from him. “r-rafe, that’s enough,” you huffed, “s’too much now!” considering you were about to let him pop your cherry, he decided he’d give your poor cunt a break.

rafe didn’t give you nearly enough time to recover before he had your wrists pinned between tits, your ankles sitting prettily on his shoulders as he tapped the aching tip of his cock against your clit. “i’m never gonna let you live this down,” rafe teased, slipping only the tip in to watch the way you took your bottom lip between your teeth, “no one’s ever gonna fuck you like this.” was the last thing he said before thrusting into you without warning, a half scream emitting from your throat as rafe groaned, his eyes glued to where you two were connected.

“oh my god, you’re fucking gorgeous—” rafe said through gritted teeth, admiring every detail of you he hadn’t seen before tonight. you were rendered speechless, any kind of protests or smart remarks dying on the tip of your tongue as the ache between your legs dulled and melted into pure unadulterated pleasure. from pained whimpers to pleading cries, rafe’s lips found yours as he fucked into you with an unforgiving force. nipping his bottom lip, rafe hissed, cursing under his breath as you managed to get your hands out of his grip.

“not so scared anymore?” he teased, his words making you roll your eyes. “shut up, rafe— oh!” your back arched up into his chest when he changed his momentum, the long strokes of his hips making you hiccup. “tell me to shut up again.” you just about lost it when you felt his thumb return to your clit, your palms pushing against his stomach at the overwhelming pressure building up in your tummy. you hated how easy it was for him to take control of you in this moment, but god, you felt too good to care. not daring to say another word, your eyes screwed shut as rafe pushed you over the edge, his own orgasm causing his hips to stutter.

burying himself as deep as he could, you pulled rafe close as he emptied himself inside of you, your toes curling as he filled you up with his seed, the thick, hot ropes of cum painting your insides while you cried at the overwhelming feeling of your high. you felt like your head was in the clouds, your vision growing hazy as you blinked in slow motion up at the high ceiling. with rafe’s weight on top of you like this, and his moans in your ear, you reveled in the new intimacy that you two hadn’t yet shared with each other, both of you holding onto each other as your climaxes subsided.

still nestled inside of you, rafe collapsed on top of you, your hands wasting no time in moving his bangs out of his face, your heart fluttering in your chest at the sight of the smug grin on his lips. “don’t you dare say anything—”

“i can’t believe you actually let me hit.” rafe sighed, leaving a trail of kisses along your collarbone. you shook your head, a soft laugh leaving your lips as you twirled the ends of his hair with your perfectly manicured fingers. “act up and you’re not getting sex for as long as you piss me off.” you threatened, your words making his eyebrows raise. “you don’t have to worry about me acting up after this.. i can’t go on without it now.” you rolled your eyes at his dramatics before he took your lips in a kiss. “i hope you’re not fucked out just yet, i got some more rounds in me.”

[kooyabooya]

DISAVOW

kim dahyun x m reader

5k words

“Let me get this straight: you slept with Momo?” 

(Okay, that’s one way to get a conversation going if you were in Dahyun’s shoes.)

“I’m not gonna ask a second time. Answer the goddamn question.” 

–

It already feels wrong to commit the action, and even worse to say it. Most of the day has been pretty bad as it is. Dahyun had a rough day at work when a bunch of things didn’t go her way. Just one unfortunate instance onto the next. Woke up late, missing a few makeup supplies, late to work because of a stupid ticket, and didn’t even get to reshoot the one scene for her role because the director apparently ‘forgot’. She really was just sitting in her trailer till she felt like dying. 

As for your case. You had a long day too. So, you slept. Just- not in the way neither you or Momo had suspected. It’s not her fault she flaunted a body too tempting for the average man to resist, especially with that mouth of hers. You had to shut her up, and it’s somewhat safe to say that this was a tipping point of what was happening in the workplace leading up to the incident. 

You’re setting the record straight, even if the lines are beginning to be scribbled lazily. Dahyun’s gaze remains unfazed while you’re trying to down as much wine as possible and she just told you that you’ve slept with one of your coworkers plus her best friend and you’re not sure how much worse this ultimatum could get. 

Clearing your throat, sighing. Because the day can’t get any shitter. “You- didn’t even give me a chance to speak?” 

“Which is why I’m letting you speak now.”

“Can we not make a big deal out of this?!” 

“A big deal? Christ- do you hear yourself? With Momo?!” Dahyun raises her voice in agitation. You couldn’t have seen that coming. Scratch that: you definitely should’ve seen it coming. 

Did you even think of what was gonna happen? Fuck no. 

You and Momo are equally blamed for that. 

Recalling the memory of Sana’s party, you remember seeing Momo in that strapless red dress, hot off the sewing machines showcased from the Met Gala, and Chaeyoung herself was even appalled at the appearance. Dahyun also was in agreement, unfailing to look away because she would’ve asked how your reaction would’ve been if she was sheathed in red. And the way Momo strutted her way to you two felt right out of a movie where all the girls are working towards stealing something valuable later. 

(In a slight retrospect, yeah. You’ve seen the signs before.) 

“Well, aren’t you gonna explain to me why?” Dahyun demands, and you’re wishing the wine was a whiskey instead. This kind of conversation was not one to be done sober. 

“What do you want me to say!” You’re exclaiming, a mere move of the arm not tantamount to what you’ve done. “It’s not my fault that she’s equally all over me as you!” 

And Dahyun, of all people, knows this. You and her are both sides of the same coin when it comes to Momo being the sole catalyst. Not since you’ve walked in on them accidentally while visiting their dance practice and that was the fastest one-eighty you did ever in your life. Or when Momo pulled you off to the side in some bar and made you forget about the belt left in the bathroom when everything’s all said and done. Or- the time they made you feel like a hotshot when they both visited your office and that was the talking point in the break room for freaking months. 

You can sense the rage boiling in Dahyun, so much of it you can actually smell. Steaming off her pale skin in these rare occasions to where it turns into wanting to fuck someone into the sheets. You feel it. It’s hot when Dahyun gets like this, and you want it. The same could be said for Momo when she makes you wanna pop a blood vessel. Depending on the circumstance, and the girl, it varies from moment to moment. 

While you can sense the blistering warmth enveloping the room, your hands grip the obsidian countertop to cool your nerves. If you wanted to make the hard choice - and you really, really wished you didn’t - it’s Dahyun. You want the girl who’s been at your side since college but can’t say a word without getting a slap on your arm or pinch of the ear, who willingly gives you a few extra napkins while eating out because she could never finish her meal and doesn’t say much to be annoying in order to get a rise or even when her other friends tease you and she can’t do much to protect either you or herself. Some days her face lights up when she walks out of the office and sees you waiting on the second step leaning on the railing and you look at her at the other corner of the room and wonder how she’d handle your cock. There’s also the fact she would taste so much better than the wine, a fine course once indulging in the appetizers.

Momo, in some corner of the world is probably thinking of this moment and watching with her palms rubbed together, devilishly smiling. Dahyun still can’t believe that you went to Momo. You had a sliver of interest to her friend as much as she did (again, another topic to be saved for another day, but if Dahyun’s pulling your finger, Momo’s doing the exact same thing too) but she’s funny and chaotic and if you really look into it - where you’ve done time and time before - then Momo’s in it for the fun at ripping the seams and leaving no care for the damages she leaves behind. Nayeon or Sana, whoever can get to Momo first, this girl is a problem. 

“The fuck you say?”

You inhale deep, lighten your fingers off the edge. It didn’t occur to you what was said just now. “She wants me. Momo wants me, Dahyun. Simple as that. No strings attached.” 

Dahyun huffs, toying the ends of her hair. She stares at you sliding the glass further and further away, unbuttoning the ends of your sleeves and you’re beginning to think of the limitless ideas running through her head of how to get your hands tied to her imagination. “Knowing her, I get the fact she’s-” her fingers are in two’s, making quotations, “-a literal sex tornado.” 

That should be it. The end of the conversation right there. You and Momo fucked, end of story. Your mind isn’t helping in playing back the memory: eye fucking Momo a week prior, flash forward a few days after, winding up in Momo’s place and focusing on the heat, her finger, that fucking pussy; the messy bangs when you’re holding her head close to yours and her lips next to your ear. Dahyun wished that was her, cumming on your cock instead of Momo. Your wife, who’s within an arm's reach of the assortment of knives, looks at you as you think about Dahyun (or Momo) cumming. The idea of her killing you is a fast way to finish this ordeal. 

“I-” Your tongue freezes between the words. “Not arguing with that statement, actually.” 

Dahyun laughs, out of pure disbelief, walks her way towards you. Taking the bottle of wine and setting it next to the fridge. “If we’re going to be transparent with each other, no one else is going to get you fucked in the way that I do.” 

Clenching your teeth was way much worse than her not grabbing the knife and charging at you. “Momo knows it was a one time thing. It was always gonna be a one time thing.” 

“And it should always be me.” Dahyun says. Rolling her eyes with a disgusted crunch on her face 

You could see her hand ball up in a fist. Both of your feet remain unmoved and the air hitting your neck comes in tiny pricks. 

“Though,” her voice dejected, “seems like one of us has forgotten that.” 

You lick your teeth, bite your lip.

“Care to elaborate?” 

She looks up, tilts her head one side and to the opposite, shifts her gaze to the empty wine glass, seeing you in her peripheral. “I’m not gonna explain myself here.” 

“Why not?” 

Her shoulders tense and relax. “No matter who you talk to, whether it’s my friends crushing hard on you or after a long terrible day, I should be the one at the end of it.” Dahyun’s voice becomes increasingly agitated. 

“It’s always you. Always.” 

“Is that what you think? Have we not done everything to convince ourselves that?” Her hand lightly slaps the countertop, the wisps in her hair falling to the front of her face. “I’m not the one who’s forgotten our commitments.” 

Your head starts to spin, heart pounding at an immeasurable rate. “You’re right. I have.” 

Dahyun runs a hand down her face, then her neck. She would have these instances under stress, doing everything she can to micromanage herself and not have the other person take notice because: she’s not the kind of girl you’d want to piss off. 

Some people- coworkers or co-stars - if you will, were very attentive at how Dahyun operated on and off the clock, watching her do these roles and have a guy or girl you don't even know much about have their care when you know it isn’t the case when she’s behind closed doors with you. 

You start to feel uneasy, rubbing your palm across your leg, and when Dahyun crosses her arms as you’re slotting yourself behind. She looks over her shoulder, the slight tension of muscle and you haven’t even put your hands on the girl yet. You’re still gauging, waiting for her to talk. “Dahyun, please,” you mumble, fingers curling her elbows, slithering them in place around her waist. 

“You-” and she sighs. “I hate when you do shit like this behind my back, especially if it’s with somebody that I’m also very close with.” 

“Momo-” 

“Momo told you to go to her.” 

“The one time. I swear.” 

“And yet you still went while I was out busy.” Dahyun’s accusation doesn’t sit on your nerves right, and your grip softens. 

“I was gonna tell you before you left. And it was gonna come off the lines as ‘Hey! I know you’re probably busy, but I need a favor. Does Dahyun mind if I borrow you for a couple hours? Maybe have a few drinks with another person, probably Jihyo, and who knows?’ She could bring a few things over and we can talk about something more interesting besides work.’ That’s how I wished it would’ve gone.” 

Dahyun laughs softly. Since you know very well that if you told her some half-assed constructed lie on the spot, she would’ve been fine with it. You’re aware of how jealous she could get without explicitly saying it and show instead. She wouldn’t have stopped you from going that day, and she’s not stopping your hand lightly clutching her breast. “Maybe a heads up from you or Momo would’ve been nice,” she huffs, leaning her head up to where the breath canvases your neck. “Now it looks like I have another thing to deal with once all of this is over with our work.” 

“She’s shown you a thing or two, why not have her do it again?” You taunt. 

Dahyun rolls her eyes once more. “Starting to think you should’ve married her instead.” 

“We are not going there. Momo just went out of line because she’s missing that aspect in her life. I’m not regretting my choice here.” 

‘My choice has always been the same as before,’ you felt compelled to say, ‘You.’ Dahyun has every right to be furious. You want to prove everything to her again. “Fucks sake, Dahyun.” 

“Don’t twist this back on me.” Her voice snaps. “Enough. I’m tired. Let me get ready for bed. I can save this conversation for later. When we’re both in the right headspace.” 

You pull your hands off of Dahyun, but not stepping back. This kind of proximity is always nice to keep. “I'm still guilty as charged?” 

“For marrying me? Never.” For being a shortsighted bastard who’s lucky to not be out of the house by now. You wonder about her thoughts, or something like that. “Be glad I like you and Momo both.” 

So you settle your bearings and back away. Dahyun hands you the wine bottle for you to place in the fridge while she heads to the bedroom, but stops her tracks when she notices you reach for your phone on the kitchen counter. 

“Hey.” 

“Hm?” 

“Who- are you gonna call?” 

You don’t answer her question and press the phone to your ear; you mouth the word ‘Momo,’ and give her a shameless wink as another way to piss her off

(You might be an actual fucking idiot for doing this though you’re doing it anyway.) 

There is absolutely no way you’re pressing her buttons after she indirectly threatened to kill you. Calling Momo after what went down is only going to solidify your undoing. You don’t even put the wine back in the fridge and walk past Dahyun, barely getting far as she swipes the phone out your hand and pins you to a nearby cabinet - lips crashing against yours, hard. 

Her taste is infectious, parting your lips wider by the second. Mixed with the cold wine and the iced tea along with the fading hints of her lavender mint perfume Dahyun would spray on occasions - it’s not worth fighting against at all, she’s throwing her body onto you; the sweet rush burning from within, bending the will to her and the urge to do the same keeps growing and growing, holding the small of her back while the phone’s cast aside. 

The line’s still ringing. She could hear it too, and you’re starting to worry if the call goes to voicemail, slipping a finger or two underneath Dahyun’s jaw and tip it upwards so you can keep her occupied at her neck. Her chest rises, gut sucking in. “For the love of god, Momo, please don’t pick this up,” you murmur, keeping a close eye on the screen while you’re forcing Dahyun to the counter. 

Like Dahyun, it seems the universe is against you, because Momo’s lower voice comes over the line in that instant. “Hey, you don’t usually call at this hour. What’s up?” 

Dahyun snatches the phone and you’re left clasping the empty hand, wincing, puffing one side of your cheek. She examines the contact name before flashing a look, answering with a soft sing-song tone. “Momo! Hi!” 

“Don’t say anything to give it away,” you order. Both hands are on her hips, lifting her up funnily where her feet barely touch the floor, knees touching yours and filling the space in the middle. You could feel the rising heat from her shorts and she won’t deny needing this. 

Even in the faces too - close to the point where your cheeks are grazing when Momo says, “Uh, is everything good?” and you can hear the casual innocence with some of the sexual implication laced in the words. You’re saving the trouble with her for another day; for now, you’re just gonna slide your hands up Dahyun’s thighs and beneath her sweater. 

“No, no, yeah, I’m okay, I-” Dahyun’s breath stops when your mouth’s pressed open to her neck, and down her collarbone. “Didn’t manage to find my phone in time so I used-” 

“Your hubby’s phone instead?” 

“Pretty much, yeah.” 

Welp, as if things couldn’t be less serious. Two of your flings are keeping it light with the exchanges. Dahyun looks back at you, a wicked smile emerging. “Girl, what is it with you this time?” Momo’s voice asks, “I swear if it’s about the incident with the dogs-” 

“Stop it, now,” you say, and Dahyun shakes her head no with a tempting pout of her lips. As if you’re not slipping off her (your) sweater, for god’s sake. You let your hand skate upward to the clasp of her bra, having it come undone and bring your fingers back around to her small breasts and not do anything about thumbing her nipples in a circular motion and her breathing gets to an irregular rate. Momo’s spilling off into a string of apologies and what Boo and Dooby did to poor Ari to the point where your mouth’s back to the mouthpiece and centimeters off Dahyn’s mouth, whispering: “Hang. The fuck. Up.” 

Dahyun glares at you with kneaded brows and it causes a snap in the nerves, bucking back into her. 

Really? At a time like this? You shouldn’t be one to test me. 

That alone is rewarded with a look of astonishment across her face. Momo on the opposite end of the line sighs to unknowingly make her presence and this girl’s timing is intentionally tragic. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get ahead of myself. Say, did you want me to drop by sometime tomorrow?” 

Right when Momo asks that, Dahyun fails to answer since she’s burning lasers directly into your eyes. You’ve got a handful of her breast and the other digging in the waistband of her shorts, aware of the fact that you’re both married to each other and she’s on the phone with one of her best friends who fucked around too much and it’s defiant to the vows; but that’s a one time thing, right? 

Dahyun simply just says: “You can. I don’t have anything in the afternoon. Feel free to swing by after lunch,” and she doesn’t falter her gaze at all. She’s winning. Saving the relationship. Not even the headlines or the blade to your heart could ever compare. 

You hope it never comes to that. 

“Alright. It’s settled then. I’ll see you at your place later,” says Momo on the phone. 

“See you soon.” Dahyun replies. 

The call goes dead soon after. 

Dahyun holds the phone between your faces, staring at you with the endless void past those eyes. You’ve got the green light - the go ahead, you really should, and enticingly could, in the next few seconds, make her feel like the only thing that mattered before she even has a chance to change her mind. A fucking insanity it is to have the thought of asking if she’s okay with this because someone’s gotta play the nice guy here. Silence fills the air with the quiet exhales and the returning beep of the smoke detector down the hall. 

“So now you want this?” You remark, hands right where they are - where they’re supposed to be. 

Dahyun’s throat bobs. Her eyes flick from your mouth to your eyes and to her body, seeing nothing else but your hair when she feels the lips touch her sweet skin. To be meticulous and not cut the wrong wire is extremely, extremely difficult. The pale shade she carries is warm and soft and you can feel the gentle bump of her heart on your hands and face. Your foot is slipping across the hardwood. All she does is breath carefully and you feel it hit your jaw. 

The worst thing she could do is say no. You’re more unsure of not being clear enough and she’ll probably forget it in the next few minutes. That undeclared authority, the unspoken ownership of each other, anything goes if one makes the move first. As much as you’d love to slip your hand beneath her shorts, (if you hadn’t done so already) she has to want it also. So you sigh and tip her forehead to yours. “Dahyun, I need to hear it. How much you want it.” 

Her face freezes, holding herself best she could, tilting her head back as she places the phone flat on the counter. It’s bleak, incoherent: “Oh, you have no idea.” 

(As if she couldn’t have made it more clearer.) 

You pick up right where it’s left off - without the overbearing tension - clutching her sides as she wraps her arms around your neck, flushing her hips with yours. She’s gripping the ends of your hair and keeps kissing while you’re marking up her neck; a power move in stripping her to nothing, and the both of you know it well, picking up the slack where the other leaves. Her hand goes astray, slipping to the phone. 

“Don’t even think about it,” you rasp against Dahyun’s mouth, pulling her lower lip. 

“Wanna find out what happens if Momo got a facetime call just now?” She mumbles back, grinning. 

You feel her hand hook your nape, pressing a thumb down the crease of her thigh with a little more force. “Momo can go fuck herself.” 

“Momo managed to get herself fucked by you, didn’t she?” 

She giggles while you inhale a sharp sound, fingers curling around the waistband of her shorts and revealing the white ends of her panties. “Save the bullshit for later.” 

“Later?” Dahyun’s taunting is one to go up against, when the jealousy is strong enough to be forced back around. Her version of karma. “Why don’t you tell me all the things you did-” 

Your fingers graze the fabric, lock eyes with hers. “Dahyun. You wouldn’t fucking call her again. I dare you.” 

“Or what-” 

Dahyun fixes her gaze when your hand slips out of her shorts, dragging her shorts and white laced panties to the floor. “I suggest you find something to hold. Quick.” 

“Hold as in what-” 

You spread her thighs open. Okay, maybe this is a little bit rushed. Maybe you should’ve done more of the kissing, the teasing, lay a few more red marks on the plush thighs before ghosting your breath over the exposed flesh in between and put her over your shoulder to the bedroom to show what she signed up for. Instead, your mouth’s been good in this predicament, and the patience can keep you at bay for so long; you lean in with your arm at her leg and just focus on the girl in your hands. 

Better than stainless steel. She tastes salty and sweet. You can imagine what it’ll be like when you get to the sticky part. 

Dahyun exhales next to you, glancing over to see that she’s kept her eyes up to the air and not doing much to close her mouth. She’s doing that awe expression when one of her costars does something stupid, and it’s not the ideal look you were expecting, shifting your weight a little more forcefully her lower half bucks at the touch. You pinch her hip and lightly tap her clit. “Oh fuck- okay,” gasps Dahyun. Her hand goes lazy and moves the phone off the obsidian and grasps where she can - the shoulders, the back, all the same. 

That’s enough to pause for a second and grin wickedly, pupils blown. “Look what happens when you don’t listen.” 

“Fuck off.” Dahyun manages, pulling you in at the nape. “Are you gonna keep talking or are you- ah-” 

While you’re traversing down a familiar path, in her sensitive areas and remembering the form of her lips on yours, you hold her steady, two fingers inching at the opening. She curses, nails carving up skin, and there’s a light slap of skin to hard surface, clutching to the counter. She’s melting in your arms and the sounds are turning your synapses to mush. You were expecting her to be more adamant, more desperate to make you stay; though, it doesn’t take much for you - no more than ten minutes and you’ve got it all sorted. Either that, or- you know her well enough to fix her up without asking. 

If anything it’s the solution she’s been searching for, the same desperation for you to tear her insides and instill the lost belief. Even if it meant for Momo to play a role in commensurating. For Momo to steer you away from the light for just a small moment. 

Maybe all of this was the point of it all. 

Dahyun stops you with both hands on your chest, catching her breath, staring down your palm flat to her waist. “Momo had no idea what she was getting herself into,” you say, “But she knew what she was doing.” 

She looks at you quizzical. “That woman has plans of her own.” 

You kneel down to kiss her leaking cunt, earning a heel to the shoulder blade. Soothing the sudden sensation with a lick of her crease at the thigh, keeping your eyes level. “God knows we’re playing her game instead.” 

“As if,” breathes Dahyun, and lightly slaps your face. But that doesn’t stop you from going at her neck. “Keep the ‘what if’s’ all you want. Don’t you dare leave me like this.” 

“Who said I’d hold back on you?” 

So you’re leaning back in, deeper. Meet her mouth and slot your tongue to her lips and get your fingers warm again. “You knew I had an eye on Momo ever since that time. And it seems like she had the same thought,” you proclaim. 

Her knee grazes your side and her foot wraps to your ass. “What if I were to go to Momo the next time around? What then?” 

“You wouldn’t, Dahyun,” you grumble, sliding your fingers out and swiping them on the inside of her thigh. “Why don’t we find out if the roles are reversed.” 

“Start with me first,” she demands.

“With pleasure,” you relent, and you’re yanking her from the small of her back, stabilizing herself with the foot to your posterior. The grip to your neck, into the defined muscle, and she’ll keep on holding on for dear life if the bruises are meant to stay for eternity. You want her to reciprocate the wanting, let her mark you for the keepsake. “You’re gonna owe me for this once it’s over - when I can make you cum like she can’t replicate-” 

“Healthy competition,” she seethes, and her whole body tenses when you let her flat on the counter to tend the wet lines on her legs. Nibbling gently; enough to indirectly say that you’ll fall on your knees but still have the power. 

“I could go to her tomorrow.” You propose to Dahyun with her foot on your collarbone before slipping past your back, the angle left open for your hand to resume the unfinished work. “Bring up last night, and ask what she did to me that you didn’t have, then tell her the predicament we’re in. I could even bring you along to confess the whole thing. Now that would be interesting.” 

This might be a little out of line for your standards. Possessiveness? Toxicity? All the boxes are being ticked off for the times you had to peel Dahyun off from the girls. Sana didn’t take much convincing. Tzuyu is attached to the poor girl’s hip. Nayeon wouldn’t shut up about liking Dahyun’s ass. At the end of the day, she’s yours. No one could ever get her like this and the whole world knows it. 

It shouldn’t piss you off this much but it is; you alone knows how dangerous it could be to drop the healthy mindset and let the anger flow into the fucking, but this is Dahyun at her most vulnerable - where she’s burning red and addicting in your mouth, and you’ve kept it calm and lighthearted half the times. And this is one of the many where you’re itching to ruin her. 

“What more do I have to do to make you see me, and only me,” she sneers, lost in rapture and her pools of black and her seeping cunt. “This pussy should be enough as it is, no?  

“Fuck yes,” you gasp, bitting another open area of skin left unclaimed. “Trust me, I’m getting you there, but if you wanna keep complaining-” 

Her back arches and she’s near your heart. “You motherfucker-” 

You angle your head for a better view and- aw, pitiful. Fixing her up with the opposite hand to her hip and close to the end of the counter, Dahyun setting herself straight so her face is right in front of yours. “What’s wrong? Gonna cum for me?” You hover over her mouth. Go off the deep end. Fast. Rough. Her teeth almost cut the end of your tongue off. The grip she has in her small hands is steel tight, but her legs aren’t following the same page. “It’s okay, baby,” you coax again, muffling the moan passing through her lips, “relax-” 

Almost there. She’s almost there. In the pace of her breaths and clenching of her stomach - the lavender and faint hints of mint fogging your vision and it’s fucking fantastic - there we go, cmon honey, do it, do it, you can’t take much more of this- 

Dahyun buries her face into the side of your throat and she does, the whine loud enough tells you how hard as a plus. 

The feeling is probably up there in the few times throughout your life: Kim Dahyun squirting and cumming on your fingers, sobbing and sweating and spilling whimpers down your chest as you’re easing her in the motions. You can get her like this again later, fuck the sense out of her brain and body where she can’t function, and your name the only psalm she can recite to convert her ideals. 

You’re patting her back and shushing her on the come down, breaths still hot on your collarbone. By the way, you’ve still got your fingers deep inside her, initiating her to pinch your shoulder, shift the hands around to where she’s most comfortable. 

Her breathing intertwined with yours joins the creaking of the floorboards beneath, securing her at her ass while her upper body is still at your chest. Still naked and weakly pulling your shirt off, shuffling to the couch to rest from the short trip. Cradling your head with her hair in a worse mess than before, earnestly staring at you so lovingly. The sparkle in your eyes gives a faint smile across her lips and you’re left speechless. It’s hard for you to ignore the tightness in your pants, tapping your fingertips across her skin, and you’re not thinking about Momo as much now. 

In the end, it was always going to be Dahyun. You love the idea of claiming her as yours. Making her cum like that before your clothes have even dropped to the floor. It’s an adoration in itself - pressing your lips to hers and to her temple - the many instances of adoring her, all fucked out and barren, resting on you with the trail of clothes back in the kitchen and making an indirect vow that she belongs with you. That alone should be enough to stay with you forever. 

So it does. When the tension is finally past the highest. She lifts her head off of you and blinks. 

“You made me squirt on my favorite sweater.” 

“Oops.” you chuckle. 

She could’ve said anything else. Not even the red blotches and bite marks can ever suffice the way she’s back to her straightforward and subtle self. You won’t forget she was on the precipice of killing someone tonight and you just gave her an orgasm as a way of forgiveness but aware enough for it to come bite you back in the ass someday. Whether you’re at each other’s throats or suffocating at the clench or thrust later - it’ll be found out eventually, but all you say is: “For the record, that was my sweater.” 

Dahyun fakes a laughing sound. “My bad for dropping your phone.” 

“You wanna go there?” 

Dahyun then laughs genuinely, her body extending all the loose ends so simply but very delicately. “No, dingus. We’re fine,” she reassures, swinging one leg off and the other and you can’t keep your eyes off of that ass of hers. 

You track her pathing through the house barefoot and naked and consciously; picking up the sweater, her shorts, and the panties too - your phone back on the counter and not to be checked for the rest of the night. She slips into the hallway and a few seconds pass, turning the other cheek when she’s in a used soccer jersey. 

She leans her shoulder onto the wall and puts her back to the drywall, and you feel suspended in time just staring at each other. Your thumb runs across the four fingertips and run your tongue on the edge of your teeth. Her blush is faded and eyes half-open. Legs defined by the muscle and her hips just meet the end of his shirt, not to mention the waist forming as the cotton’s pulled to the rear. That boner’s still there, too, and manspreading the only method to do right where she left you, she’s definitely seen it before and it’s amazing how she hasn’t mentioned it yet. 

Breaking the silence: “I don’t think I can stand up, babe.” 

Dahyun sighs, shaking her head and beaming a soft smile. “Were you thinking about me or Momo just now?” 

You laugh, because she has it figured out. “If I answered the latter, then my dick would be chopped off.” Besides, it won’t be that long for you to ignore the clothes if she’s keeping her distance with that choice of clothing - especially the fact she definitely has nothing underneath. 

It’s on purpose too. She still needs her fix, after all. 

There’s a reason she’s not helping you, nor suggesting for you to wash up because there’s a whole lot of mess left to be dealt with. And the thought of not doing anything was also a plausible choice - though that would piss her off even more - Dahyun observes when you finally stand and walk toward her. Watching as the height difference increases the more she tilts her gaze upwards. 

Sinning and penance are both routes to take from the shared cause. You either let your head fill with regret, or channel that devotion to someone who’s willing to take it all. That familiar swing of tension is in the air once again. “So, what will it be, sir?” 

You lean down and take her lips. Lift her off her feet and have them bracket around your waist. “Seems like I still owe you.” 

“Oh really,” she sighs, moaning again when the touches are more desperate, rough. Carrying her through the corridor and into the bedroom, but not until she stops at the walkway. “You think this will be enough for you to stay away from Momo?” 

You arch an eyebrow. “It takes more than my decision to make that happen.” It should, you also think, but Dahyun doesn’t expand on that answer. 

“Fuck me good till the morning and I’ll leave it up to you,” says Dahyun, and you nod. Her string of laughs and moans growing louder in the bedroom and that’s everything you ever needed. 

–

It’s not until much later when you’re staring into space, where the whirr of the espresso machine doubles down on the trance as you try to process the events unfolded in the past couple weeks. The tinge on your lips and the soreness at your cock. Your head spinning in the endless cycle of self-introspection until it’s ended by the vibration of your phone on the counter, left untouched from last night. 

A message notification on the screen: still left me out to dry, i see how it is :// <3 🍑

Whether to reply or leave it on read is a personal decision. 

[f1fantasys]

MONACO BABY

Summary - Lando fucks you without a condom for the first time. This could really be read as two fics combined from my poll (Before the race weekend, lando said he’d fuck you without a condom if he wins AND He fucks a baby into you when you celebrate later that night.) Let me know if you'd prefer a whole separate one though, or if i should write a part two basically confirming you got pregnant from all the nasty you did. Let me knowwww

Warnings - heavy smut. blowjob. m! and f! receiving. oral sex. fingering. penetrative sex. cowgirl. unprotected sex. spit play. cum play. use of the words slut and whore.

3.5K+

It was Friday - free practice day, and you noticed that Lando had woken up this morning feeling optimistic about the weekend - a feeling you'd wanted to see him feel since Australia.

A little bit of a back story? You were a Sky content creator, and had been dating Lando for a little over 6 months now, so still pretty new, although it really felt like he was your end game. You knew he was. Your relationship was still private, not yet out in the open though there had been speculation, but you'd both tried to keep it as secret as possible, enjoying your own bubble. Lando's win in Australia was the perfect way to start the season, but it all fell short when the next races up until now were less than fruit full. So to see Lando full of hope today, you were secretly thanking the gods above. He had been harsh on himself up until now. Too harsh.

Call it wanting to rile him up with more adrenaline, whatever it was, this is how you wound up in the position you found yourselves in right now -

Lando had just come out the shower, a towel hanging low on his hips as you sat up in bed and silently watched him do his hair care routine. His dark eyes found yours in the mirror. 'Like something you see?' he asked, sly smirk on his face.

You felt your cheeks heat up immediately, clearing your throat as you rolled your eyes. He turned to face you now, dropping his towel in a swift motion, all his glory out for you to see. His cock sprang free, slapping against his stomach as it bounced a few, throbbing as he took himself in his hands and pumped himself while walking towards you.

'You know all you have to do is ask baby, I'm all yours, yeah?' he said teasingly, grabbing he back of your head, harsh but not harsh enough to hurt you, to make you look up at his face instead of his dick that was now level with your eyes.

'Fuck off' you teased back, unable to hide your smile as you finally brought your hands up to wrap around him. He was pulsing, the thick vein at the side protruding deliciously s you stood up and pushed Lando to sit on the edge of the bed. 'Need to taste you, please' you begged, though you knew he was putty in your hands now.

All Lando could do was groan at the sight in front of him - you, naked, on your knees, tongue darting out to lick the sticky pre-cum off his tip. He jerked forward at that, his hands instinctively coming up to hold your hair out of your face as you finally took him in and sucked.

'Oh fuck me,' he panted, 'that mouth of yours' he mumbled breathlessly as your worked your way on him, bobbing your head up and down repeatedly while his hold on your hair tightened wit each passing second.

You squeezed your thighs together at the mere thought of what you were doing, half not believing you were sucking THE Lando Norris' dick, even though you'd done so about a thousand times by now.

'That's it baby, fuck, you're so good at this' he cooed, taking control of fucking himself in and out of your mouth as your moves started faltering, his hips jerking forward with each thrust, making you gag, tears at the corners of your eyes, and obscene noises filling up the otherwise quiet room.

You tugged and pulled at his balls, sucking as hard as you when you felt him get sloppier by the second, impending orgasm threatening to overcome him any minute now. When you pulled back for air, a string of your spit still had you connected to Lando, and he couldn't help but lean down to you for a dirty, messy kiss, both your tongues battling each others', before he pulled back and was quick to shove his dick back in your mouth.

'Shit I'm so close baby, where do you want it?' he asked, though he knew the answer, you were always ready to taste him, and so when you didn't reply, it wasn't even a few seconds until his whole body was shuddering, hips bucking forward as he spilled his seed down your throat, while you pulled back for air again as he sprayed your face white with his cum, both your chests heaving with the rush.

You sat there breathless, while Lando looked down at you, another sight for sore eyes with just how messed up you were, with his mess on you body, cum dropping down from your face onto your boobs and down your stomach.

He gently let his fingers spread his cum around your face, eventually bringing them to your mouth for you to take in, suckling softly and groaning at the taste of him once more.

He had a look on his face, one you knew all to well, one that only ended with trouble.

'I know that look Lan, what are you thinking?' you pressed, nervous for his answer because you knew whatever he'd say would make you clench your thighs together.

He smiled then, a full blown Lando Norris smile with all his teeth showing, your favourite smile, barely for a second though, because his gaze was quick to turn dark again as he traced his thumb across your bottom lip.

'Thinkin' about how I'm gonna win the race on Sunday..then fuck you with no condom on...need you feel you raw baby' he said, voice hoarse but so casual as it rolled off his tongue with such ease.

You stared up at him, mouth agape as your brain short circuited the second the words left his lips. 'What?' you whispered in shock.

He smiled again - 'You heard me. Need to feel you raw' he said, grabbing a few tissues off the bedside table and wiping your face, helping you up and back onto the bed.

Your mind was spiralling. This is a whole new ball game in your relationship and your body felt alive with butterflies squirming their way in your stomach, anticipation building up and the weekend hadn't even started.

No words left your mouth as Lando pushed you to lie back before straddling you, fiddling with a condom wrapper before rolling it onto his girth which was already hard again, and ramming int you, dirty words of his plan being whispered into your ear.

2 days later, and your man actually fucking won the Monaco Grand Prix.

Let's take it back a few - your relationship had basically been soft launched by the media wen you were caught with Lando's family all weekend. You wished it'd have come out on your own terms, but f1 media played no games, so the multiple views of you on tv had your name, 'Y/N, Lando Norris' Girlfriend' as your tag.

You watched on as Lando climbed out of his car, tens of people pushing their way past you in hopes of getting close to the driver as he hugged his mum and dad, and when his eyes locked with yours, he reached out for your hand, his thumb ever so gently rubbed circles while his god damn beautiful face sent you a wink and a kiss, sending you into a frenzy of tingles. Your heart clenched for a second as the look he'd just given you was reserved only for you, and now the whole world would see it.

Fast forward the podium , the team photo, the prince's ball, and partying at the club - you both stumbled back into his apartment, very tipsy, but not drunk enough because you both wanted to remember the whole evening and celebrations.

You tiptoed through the hallway as quietly as possible, not wanted to wake Adam and Cisca, though Lando was proving that to be impossible with the way his body was glued to yours, lips tracing every inch of your skin as he tickled your neck with stubble, all while leaving a trail of your clothes behind, though it was mostly his - yours was literally just your dress since you hadn't worn any underwear.

As soon as you reached his room, he slammed the door shut, pushed up up against it, and attacked your lips with his own. It was messy, hungry, tongues and teeth clashing as your hands gripped harshly at his hair. He swallowed your moans when his hands roamed down to your glistening cunt, fingers sliding through your folds, pinching at your swollen clit.

'Hmm, Lando, please. I need you.' yu mumbled when his lips moved down to your neck, biting down at your sweet spot as he plunged two fingers through your hole with no warning. You gasped as your back arched off the door, biting down on your bottom lip.

Whatever he was doing felt good, but not good enough, even when he added a third finger and repeatedly hit against your G-spot. You needed more, you needed his dick.

You found your voice again, between he whimpering and panting, grabbing rough at his hair again to make him look up at you.

'You said you-'

'I know what I said.' Lando cut you off. 'But I'm gonna make you cum at least twice before I so much as get near fucking you love' he said, voice raspy, then brining his mouth down to your peaked nipples.

You knew once he had his mind to something there was no going back, so you decided to let him use you how he pleased. His tongue rounded your left nipple, hot against you skin before he b it down harshly, eliciting a gasp from you as his fingered continued their torture on your cunt.

Lando soon added another finger, the stretch sore but welcomed as you felt yourself nearing you high, biting down on his shoulder, and all it took was one pinch of your clit before you were shuddering in his arms, body limb and cum gushing out of you uncontrollably, as he worked you through it, mumbling to himself something about how hot you were when you squirted like this.

He kissed you again, picking you up with his hands under your ass as you kissed him back, slow and deep, the opposite of the desperation there was a few minutes ago.

He placed you on the bed and you were quick to get on your knees, working on ripping his boxers off quickly to see him spring free, aching hard. You wrapped your hand around and started pumping when Lando quickly pushed you off him.

'Someone's eager' he said, sending you a wink before pushing you to lay flat. 'But I need to taste you first' he said, spreading your legs open with his sticky fingers, groaning at the state of you.

You still had cum messing your pussy, he was quick to lean down an lick a hot strip through your folds, tongue lapping at you harshly while you grabbed onto his hair, tugging at it as lewd moans left your mouth.

'Fuck baby, please, god yes, feels so good Lan' you managed to say between breaths, a heat already building up in your stomach as he started thrusting his tongue in and out of your hole. 'Gonna cum' you warned, not caring how quick were took to reach the high, goosebumps raising on your entire body as he ate you out like a starved man.

Lando nipped at your clit then, the sensation coursing through our body, sending your orgasm down with a thrill as you shook uncontrollably underneath him, his tongue not slowing one bit as he groaned at the sweet taste of you.

You looked down to see his mouth and chin dripping with spit and cum as he smiled sheepishly, leaning up to kiss you for the millionth time today.

'Please. I need you' you finally begged between nips and licks at his lips, not knowing how much longer you could wait without exploding with desperation for his cock.

Finally, he sat up on his knees, eyes shamelessly checking out your body.

'No condom yeah? he asked slowly, gaging your reaction as he spat down onto himself and pumped a few times.

You nodded your head, sure no words would leave your mouth.

'Gonna let me cum inside you?' he asked, testing the waters once more.

You nodded again.

'Words, baby. Need to hear you say it?' he pressed, his thumb softly rubbing circles on your inner thigh.

'Please, fuck me. God I need you an your cum Lando' you said breathlessly, anticipation really budling up.

That was all Lando needed to hear. He hovered over you again, balancing on his elbow as one hand cupped your face, while the other slid his dick through the folds a few times, gathering your slick, until he lined his dick up at your entrance.

His eyes were glued to yours as he slid inside of you when one, quick thrust, bottoming out immediately.

You both gasped at the same time, your back arching off the bed as your breaths mingled, foreheads against one another.

He felt so much bigger without the condom, the lack of barrier letting you feel his heat in such a tantalizing way as he stretched you out dumb.

Lando's breath faltered when he felt how tightly your walls clenched around him, cunt throbbing around his girth with a warmth he'd never expected to have felt. 'Y/N,' he paned, cold breath on your skin. 'So fuckin' tight.'

'Need a second' you said as he nodded in agreement, your body always needing a minute to adjust to his size, so he kissed you filthy again, tongue lapping against tongue until you started squirming underneath him, craving more friction.

'Gonna let me fuck you?' he asked, slowly sliding out and then ramming back into you with force again.

You let out another gasp followed by a pornographic moan when he repeated that action, his hands quickly coming up to cover your mouth.

'Have to be quiet unless you want everyone to hear me fuck you' he said, voice raspy, burying his head in the crook of your neck as you wrapped your legs around his waist as tightly as you could. At this point you didn't care if anyone heard you - all you could concentrate on was the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you.

You dragged your nails up and down his back, scratching at his skin, a sheet of sweat starting to cover both your bodies.

This new, raw connection between you both was a series of different motions. Lando's pace was quick, relentless, then all of a sudden he'd slow down to deep, sensual thrusts, before picking up pace again.

He was whispering dirty nothings into your ear as you continued moaning and gasping his name as his every word and movement.

'Fuck, hearing you say my name like that, drives me fucking insane'

'Could stay buried inside of you raw like this forever'

'Look at you, you love when I fuck you like this yeah?'

'Tight little cunt is all mine, my slut yeah??'

'Or better - such a whore after your boyfriend wins a race'

It was no surprise that your orgasm ripped through your body with no warning, crashing through you as your mind blanked out and you saw stars, dirty grunts filling up the room together with skin against skin slaps as Lando didn't slow his movements one bit.

Lando for one, knew he was a goner the second he felt your juices spewl all of his cock, and when he looked down to see the mess, he let out his own series of filthy moans.

'Baby fuck, look at the fucking mess you've made. Can cum just from looking at it' he groaned as you wrapped your legs tighter around him.

'Lan too much, I can't' you cooed, the stretch really starting in sting now.

He slowed his movements, but didn't stop, voice edgy as he spoke. 'You really want me to stop before you've let me cum in you? Huh? Before I've fucked a baby into you?'

Your chest heaved, choking on your spit as you took in his words, and suddenly your whole body was pumped with adrenaline. You didn't answer him verbally - no. Instead you mustered all the energy you could to push Lando off you to lay back, so you could straddle his hips, taking him dripping dick in your hands and lining him up with your cunt as you sank down on him in one hard thrust.

'Look at you, all eager for my cum' he teased, hands finding your hips and helping you set a vast, sloppy pace, while his eyes stuck to your bruised boobs, bouncing up and down as you rode him.

'Feel's so fucking good Lan' you whimpered, feeling his cock hit your G-spot over and over again, one hand on your own stomach as you felt his bulge everyone he thrust up into you.

With no warning, you came again, quivering above Lando as his movements were becoming sloppier, your moans getting so loud that he hand to bring a hand to cover your mouth again, before he pulled out and pushed you back again.

He stood at the end of the bed, pulling your body to the edge and spreading your legs further apart, before leaning down to spit directly on your cunt, and finally rammed into you, with intent this time, clearly chasing his own high, with his dirty words returning.

'Feel that baby? That's my cock, getting ready to cum inside you'

'Ready to fill you up yeah?'

'Not gonna stop until your dripping with me'

'Gonna lick my cum that's gonna drip out of your cunt'

Once again, his words threw you off. You could swear you've never cum so hard before, your body going like jelly, all you could hear was Lando's muffled voice, until a feeling unlike any other hit you at once.

His body was jerking forward into yours, cock twitching uncontrollably between your walls as he trembled above you, cum shooting out his tip and through your body, filling you up complete while pornographic grunts and moans left his mouth, swear words flying out like there was no tomorrow as he released all that he was holding in.

Lando's mind went blank as his muscles tensed, hands gripping your hips tighter while his own hips bucked forward, the raw moment causing him to make eye contact with you as he was sent over the edge, filling you up so perfectly while the things leaving his mouth were anything but.

Finally, he let his weight fall on top of you, both of you so out of breaths, bodies shivering at the cool air hitting your sweat-clad bodies, his face buried in your neck while your arms wrapped around him and pulled him close.

'Fuck' he panted, as his hips involuntarily spasmed forward again, cock with twitching against your walls as you slowly but surely felt him softening inside you.

'Lan...' you breathed, turning your head a bit to make him look up at you.

You both took in each others states - both fucked out, foreheads glistening with sweat and cheeks a deep red colour, breaths hot against one another.

'I know baby' he said, lips against yours, softest of kisses while your hands ran through his damp hair.

'You okay? Sorry if that was too much..' he said softly, bringing a hand up to your own face, thumb tracing your lips.

You couldn't help but chuckle at the stark contrast of what was happening a few minutes ago compared to now.

'I'm more than fucking okay. God, can we do this all the time? You really know how to fuck a girl' you said, almost whispering the last part.

He smiled. 'Just have a whore as my partner' he whispered back, before shutting his eyes when you gasped and smacked his shoulder playfully.

'I'm joking, I'm joking. I have the most amazing woman, who takes me so fucking well, is all' he said, leaning down to kiss you, hard.

Eventually after a dew minutes of slow, deep kissing, Lando pulled out, the both of you groaning at the loss of contact when he slipped his dick out.

He helped your wobbly body onto your feet, and you didn't miss how his eyes were glued to your pussy. You looked down at yourself, breath hitching when you saw how a mix of your fluids when slowing sleeking its way out your cunt and down your thighs, and in turn this made you look at Lando's dick, glistening.

'I-fuck.' you started but Lando was quick to cut you off with an 'Uh huh' while he lowered himself to the ground.

He let his fingers spread the cum on your thighs around, before every so gently leaning forward and licking a strip up your folds, making you hiss at his hot tongue on your most sensitive parts, scooping up as much of the sticky juice as he could, before he was standing tall again leaning down let it drip from his mouth into yours before he was kissing you sloppy again, making a mess of your face.

You moaned into his mouth - mind going at a thousand miles an hour - normally b y now you'd want to clean, freshly showered or at least wiped down, especially with just how nasty the pair of you had been tonight - but at the same time - the smell of sex in the room, the sensation of Lando literally dripping out of you - you wanted to stay like this for as long as possible.

Lando must have felt the same because he didn't guide you to the bathroom, instead brining you to lie down next to him, cuddling you as close as possible as he turned the bedside lamp off. And his last words of the night already had your core tingling in want for him.

'Rest up baby, gonna take you raw in the morning again.' he whispered, before leaving a kiss on your cheek and pulling you closer when he heard your gasp and felt a shiver run up your body.

[mortallyclassypizza]

You know, I really didn't get into the villain business for fame, riches, or some self-satisfied crusade like the rest of those clowns. It was always about her.

Okay so maybe I did rob that jewelry store one time. Yeah, yeah, I know, rich girl bored of always getting what she wants turns to petty crime. I'm a cliche, sue me. But that night changed my life forever. I'll never forget the moment she barged in.

(rest under read more because oops this kinda got away from me)

Her hair glistened under the moonlight, and her cheeks were flushed from running. There was a hint of uncertainty in her eyes, gone in an instant as soon as she saw me. She pointed at me, and shouted that silly slogan of hers. I had heard about her, the up and coming new hero, a fresh face starting to make waves in a city already so full of heroes. I could barely react before she was behind me, twisting my arm and restraining me. It was...exhilarating. Sounds stupid, but I had never felt so alive as the second our bodies touched. It was like being reborn in a sea of flames.

I didn't stay in prison long, of course. A few crocodile tears and apologies, as well as a sizeable donation to the warden's account, and I was out by dawn. But I had been changed forever, my heart pumping in expectation of our next encounter. It would be hard to find her, especially with no clue as to her true identity, but there was a simple solution to that issue. All I had to do was stir some trouble again.

So I snuck some explosives into the nearest bank, and soon we were face to face again. She defeated me as quickly, but it was bliss. Next was the zoo breakout, and yeah okay that one didn't work out so well but I still get what I wanted out of it. I could hardly contain my smile when she arrived at the scene, and I could tell she enjoyed our encounters even if her composure never slipped.

She began rising through the ranks, so I knew I needed to up my game. My plans became more harebraine and reckless, but I still made sure no one would get seriously hurt. That was probably why I always managed to get off with a slap on the wrist. With so many monsters around, I was just a minor nuisance.

Which I guess was my one mistake. As she made a name for herself, I was slowly getting left behind. I wasn't even her nemesis anymore, and can you believe they sent other heroes after me?! I was furious, I almost broke that guy in two. But I held back. I always did.

No more.

I can't afford to hold back. Not from any sort of conscience I may once have had, and certainly not from the way I feel about her. A hero needs a threat, a monster to emerge and bring destruction in its wake. And the strongest hero deserves the most fearsome of beasts. For the sake of my beloved, I will be the cataclysm.

I have been planning for months. Counting the days until our fateful encounter. There will be no distractions, and no way to back out. The bombs are already in place, ready to raze the city to the ground, and with it every damned hero in it. The flames that rebirthed me will craft the stage for this confrontation.

And at the end there will only be you and me. One last time, to the death. For there is no greater honor than to taste your blood. To die in each other's arms, our bodies entwined again as we expire. My last words the confession I was never able to make in life.

You've always been considered a mid-tier villain at best and not much of a threat. What they don't know is that you've never really put effort into it. Until now.

[chleem]

If it's casual now...

One shot; college students drew x reader

Summary: after five months of blurred lines and unspoken rules, everything unravels when you ask drew what you really are to him. suddenly, pretending it’s casual isn’t an option anymore.

Genre: angst (read at own caution; explicit languages + scenes

⋆.˚ dont copy or translate my work on any platforms

♡⸝⸝ phrase one | more

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“We need to talk.”

Your voice echoes through your dormitory, coming from Drew’s phone, the message you left from last night. 

It was the only thing you said, but you figured it would be enough to get him here. 

And it was. Drew showed up the way he always does-  unannounced, no text, no call, just the quiet click of your door unlocking and the soft thud of his shoes hitting the floor.

Like he belongs here. Like it’s his space.

Now, he’s standing across from you behind the kitchen counter, one hand wrapped lazily around a mug. His hoodie’s slung over your chair, his phone charging in the same outlet he always claims.

He hasn't said anything yet. Just looking at you expectedly with the piercing blue eyes of his. 

You’re dressed- ready for class, your bag prepared by the couch, adjusting your bracelet- everything about you says you’re leaving. 

He plays your voice message again. 

“We need to talk.”

You send him a look, “stop playing that.”

Drew sets his mug down; the soft clink of ceramic against the counter louder than it should be, “you look pretty.”

You give him a faint smile, reaching up to adjust your necklace.

“Where you going?” he asks, like he doesn’t already know your schedule by heart.

“Class,” you say, trying to keep your voice light despite the thudding in your ears.

Drew nods at your answer, biting down on his bottom lip. “Okay… you look pretty,” he repeats. 

Then, he moves.

He steps out from behind the counter, and in just a few strides, he’s standing beside you, close enough that you have to tilt your head slightly to meet his eyes.

You can feel the warmth coming off him. That clean scent he always carries-something between laundry soap and the hoodie he probably hasn’t washed in a while- settles in the space between you. 

He somehow also smells like sleep and mornings and whatever’s left of the cologne he put on yesterday.

“Thank you,” you whisper, glancing at him before turning toward the small bulletin board by your dorm door.

You search for your keys, among the clutter of class notes and reminders pinned there, trying to focus on something else.

You could feel his stare burn on the back of your head. 

“I have your keys, babe,” 

“…both of them?”

“Yeah,” Drew replies, before the sound of keys jiggling fills the room. 

You turn around to see him sitting on your counter stool, legs spread comfortably. 

He sets both keys on the countertop.

You walk back over, and without much thought, he scoots the chair closer, closing the space until you’re settled between his legs.

Your fingers close around your key, the one with your familiar keychain and you want to leave, escape his presence, but you’re right in the middle of it. 

He reaches over, his bicep brushing lightly against the side of your waist as he grabs his phone. You already know what he’s going to do.

The message plays again: “We need to talk.”

You chuckle softly under your breath, and when you glance up, Drew’s smiling gently at you.

“Yeah?” He says. 

You meant it last night- that you were going to talk to him. But now, with him standing so close, it feels harder to do.

He hooks his finger into your belt loops, tugging gently, pulling you just a little closer, his touch light but deliberate, as if he’s trying to coax the words from you.

“You’ve got my attention,” he adds, voice low and almost teasing, but there’s sincerity to it too.

Where to start? 

You turn to face him, and he takes the chance to rest his hands on your lower waist, his bracelet (the one you got him) brushing against the fabric.

You take a deep breath, fingers nervously fidgeting with your keychain, then finally meet his gaze.

“What are we, Drew?”

You won’t lie- what other people say has been creeping into your mind more than you want to admit. Your friends, who sneered and called you a loser for sticking around. The strangers who whispered, maybe a little too loudly, about how you’re just ‘the girl he bangs on his couch.’ 

Those words, sharp and careless, have been gnawing at you, making you question everything you have with Drew. 

Five months of casual talks, stolen touches, late-night kisses, meeting parents like it was nothing- it’s all there, but without a name, without a definition.

And then there’s Mike- your new friend, a first-year who confessed, asked you out. His honesty made you think about everything even more. The more you thought about it, the more restless you got. 

You couldn’t take it anymore.

He kept you like a secret, while you carried him like a promise.

It’s clear this simple question caught Drew off-guard, his eyes widening, pupils dilating a bit, and his mouth parts slightly- before he quickly fixes this smile. 

“What?” he chuckles, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your waist.

“What are we, Drew?” You ask again, patiently. 

He hesitates, then smiles, a little uneven. “Where- where is this coming from?” 

“I’m just…curious,” you look down at your keychain, fiddling with it nervously. Before you can think twice, Drew reaches out and takes it from your fingers, setting it gently on the table.

You look back up at him, catching the almost blank stare in his eyes. “Curious?”

“Yeah- I mean,” you shrug, pulling your sleeves down a little tighter. “It’s just… I don’t know. Don’t you…wonder?”

He lets out a light scoff, bringing a hand up to scratch behind his ear, a little awkward. “No... no, I don’t really,” he says, voice low but honest, eyes flickering away for a moment before meeting yours again.

“You… don’t?”

You wait for him to say more, but he just shrugs, a small, almost reluctant smile tugging at his lips.

“Maybe I just... like things the way they are,” he admits.

Of course he does.

Casual- no expectations, no labels, no accountability.

That’s what Drew likes; how casual you are- how casual he thinks you are.

But you aren’t. You’re nowhere near it.

Not when he’s met your friends, not when you’ve met his family, not when he kisses you like he means something. Like you mean something.

You blink, pulling in a quiet breath.

“So that’s what you wanted to talk about?” Drew smiles, and before you can answer, he leans in and presses a quick kiss to your stomach, right over the fabric of your top- affectionate, familiar, automatic.

You can’t even help the frown that settles on your face.

You hesitate for a moment, your hand hovering, before you give in and thread your fingers through his hair, slow and gentle.

He exhales softly at your touch, his lashes fluttering briefly as he presses another kiss, higher this time, right over your ribcage. Still over the fabric, still tender.

“Drew?”

“Yeah?” 

“…we need to talk.”

“You sound just like the recording,” he teases, lips curving up as his hand lazily roams over your back.

But you don’t laugh, not even smile.

You shift back slightly, just enough for his touch to fall away, his hands slipping back to rest at your sides.

“What are we? Seriously,” you ask, letting out a breathy, uneasy laugh as you tuck your hair behind your ear. 

He swallows; his smile falters, and this time he scratches his forehead, “I don’t know- casual? No strings, no attachments- you know.”

No attachments. 

No strings. 

Casual. 

“We’re not, Drew. We’re not casual, at all,” you whisper, biting your lip and glancing away, because saying it out loud makes your chest tighten.

Drew stays quiet for a beat then finally asks, “Why now?”

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

He shakes his head slightly, running a hand through his hair. “I mean... two days ago, you were sleeping on my arm until it went numb- ”

You cut in, voice low but firm, “that’s why, Drew. Does that sound casual to you?”

You couldn’t believe his next words. 

“Yes.”

“‘Yes’?” You look into those blue eyes of his, “do you casually fall asleep with strangers, Drew?”

“…you’re not a stranger.”

You lean in just a little, voice soft but steady. “Then what am I? What am I to you?”

The sapphire orbs dance between your eyes, your nose, your lips, “I don’t like this conversation,” he answers instead. 

You gulp, heart pounding, “me neither. But- just-“

“You mean a lot to me, y/n. Is that what you want to hear?” 

You nod slowly, biting your lip hard enough to taste the faint metallic tang of blood. Your gaze drops to the floor, unable to hold his eyes any longer; your arms wrapping around yourself instinctively.

You wait, just a beat longer to see if he’ll say anything else, if he’ll soften those words or try to explain. 

But he doesn’t. 

He stays close, and you find yourself chuckling softly at the tension between you. 

Trying to slip free, you move, but his legs brace yours in place, trapping you gently yet firmly. 

And so you stay, standing between Drew, who sits comfortably on the counter stool. 

“Hey- you okay?” He reaches up to cup your face, and you immediately flinch away.

“What do you think?” you snap, voice sharper than you intended.

“Did I say something wrong?” he asks, sounding genuinely confused. 

“You don’t get it, do you, Drew?”

But you don’t give him the chance to answer. 

“You don’t meet someone’s parents when it’s casual,” you say softly. “You don’t leave your stuff here, or memorize my schedule, or- look at me the way you do- and call that ‘no strings.’”

He shifts in the stool, but you don’t look at him yet.

“You don’t- you don’t make love to someone…if it’s just casual.”

“Love?” he repeats. 

“Yeah, love,” your voice is barely above your whisper- even though the emotions are real, it feels weird confessing them. Meeting his gaze, you see doubt, maybe- crossing his features.

He leans back, and the corner of his lips lift up. 

“We fuck, y/n. I don’t- I don’t love you-“

Just when you thought it wouldn’t get worse. 

The words land cold, blunt, like a slap you never saw coming. You can’t believe they came out of his mouth- the same mouth that pressed against yours so deeply, lingering like it meant more. The mouth that whispered your name in the dark, the one that traced every inch of your skin like it was memorizing you.

“Then do you like me, at least?” 

“…you mean a lot to me, you know that.”

“It’s not the same thing, Drew-” you say, a sad smile tugging at your lips despite the hurt pooling in your eyes. “-you know that.”

He notices immediately- your smile, fragile and trembling, the way your eyes start to glisten with unshed tears. His confident, cocky facade flickers, and for a moment, vulnerability breaks through.

His brows knit together, a crease forming between them as if the weight of what you just said lands heavier than he expected. His jaw tightens, searching for the right words, but none come easily.

“Fuck- babe-“ His hand reaches up.

You flinch away, swallowing hard to hold back the tears. “Don’t- don’t touch me. Don’t call me that,”

A heavy pause settles.

And then, softly- but with finality- you say the words that will break it all apart.

“Let’s stop seeing each other, Drew.”

“…so that’s it? You get- you get a little in your feelings and suddenly we’re done?”

“‘A little’?” you echo, your voice cracking just slightly, more from disbelief than anger.

“Well, yeah, are you in a bad mood-“

You stare at him, stunned.

“I’ve been letting it slide for the past few months, Drew,” you say, “I’ve stayed quiet while everyone else talked about us- about me like I was a clingy bitch you couldn’t get rid of.”

He goes still- shame clouding behind those blue eyes. 

“And now you’re telling me it’s just me being a little in my feelings?” you whisper, voice trembling just enough to betray the hurt, “after everything?”

He stays silent- and for a moment, you let yourself hope that means something. That maybe the words finally hit. That maybe, just maybe, you’ve gotten through to him.

His eyes are still on you, unreadable now, but softer than before. The way they used to be when he was pulling you closer in the dark. The kind of softness that once felt safe.

But now? Now, it just feels late.

You draw in a shaky breath, arms still wrapped around yourself. “You like the way things are? Well, I hate it. I hate feeling like I was the only one who actually cared about this... whatever this was.”

“I care about this,” Drew says- too quick, too defensive.

You shake your head, voice quiet but sure, “No. You don’t-“

“I do, y/n. You-“

“You only care about yourself, Drew. So, stop pretending,” you murmur, and you immediately wipe away the tear that just slipped down your cheek, hoping he didn’t see it- but knowing he did. You force a small smile, and his shoulders immediately drop, his expression shifting to one of awe and devastation.

You feel wrong in your own space. Like an intruder in the scene of your own undoing. His scent still lingers in the air, faint cologne and worn cotton, and it turns your stomach. The room is still littered with traces of him; his hoodie slung over your chair, his books scattered around the place, even the beautiful roses he gifted you on Valentines. 

You felt so wrong in your own space. 

“I have class now, so I’ve got to go,” you say instead, ending the conversation by grabbing your keys and moving out of his way. 

“What? Now?”

“Yeah, I could be late,” you reply, not meeting his eyes as you reached for your bag on the couch.

You walk past him, focused only on the door, until his hand wraps firmly around your wrist.

It’s not rough, but it’s enough to stop you.

“Hey- hey, y/n, c’mon, I- ”

Slowly, you turn to face him. He’s standing close now, closer than he should be, his fingers still curled around your wrist like letting go might mean something final.

You watch his face carefully, trying to see if he’s about to say something real.

“I- I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry.”

You wished there was a mirror, so he could see how physically hard it looked for him to say those words. 

And that’s not what you wanted to hear.

Not really.

Because ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t answer anything.

“…are you, in love with me, y/n?”

The question hits you harder than anything he’s said tonight. It lands like a punch- not because it’s cruel, but because it’s unexpected. Because he asked it.

Your eyes snap to his, to those piercing blue eyes that have looked at you a thousand different ways but never quite like this, curious, cautious, maybe even scared.

“Would it change anything?” 

His breath hitches.

You see it- the realization settle in his eyes, slow and sudden all at once.

For a second, he doesn’t say anything; his lips part, then close again. 

The truth sits right there on his tongue, but he’s too scared to let it out.

Too scared to name it, too scared to lose you if he does, or maybe more scared of what it means if he says it and still loses you anyway.

Drew’s voice is barely above a whisper when he finally speaks.

“…I don’t know.”

And that’s worse than a no.

You nod, something in your chest sinking, not crashing, just… lowering. Settling into that numb space where hurt goes to hide.

“Um, then I guess you could take your time to get your stuff out of my room,” you say instead, your voice weak, walking over to the door to hurriedly put on your shoes.

You open the door and step out of your dorm, closing it gently behind you.

You stand there for a few beats, hoping, maybe waiting for him to call your name, to step out after you and say something that would change everything. 

But the silence stretches on, and the door’s still. 

Slowly, you start walking away, each step heavier than the last.

Then your hands lift, covering your face- pressing into your eyes, trying to stop what’s already happening.

You’re not even sure why you’re crying. 

Maybe because it’s finally over. Maybe because it never really started. Or maybe because, deep down, you let yourself believe- for just a second- that it could have been something more.

And now, there’s nothing left to do but sit with the ache of what it wasn’t.

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

word count: 2.8k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: i wrote this in a way that, even if you didn't read the other 'extras' or 'phase one', u could read this as a stand alone. this is for the ppl that love angst, i hope this is angsty enough (their argument is a softer kind of heartbreak- kinda calm before actual storm + i feel it fits into their characterizations)

and u have no idea how many times ive rewritten and reread bc this is not my best work im sorry

also, thank u for the 1.8k ppl that read my work! im so appreciative of it, im grateful that someone even reads it; let alone follow me. so thank u, im trying my best to produce the best for u <3

taglist: @maybankslover @rafeyswifey @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @amb3rsaurus @bananaminn @rafecamerons-national-anthem @milky321 @drewnationalgf @iraslore @ursogorgeous13 @jamimers @hockeybabe87 @jqtsblyth @virgochaos @wolvestitches @dontblamethedrunkcaller @esposamultifandom @starkeysfile @rlalliehayes @pillowprincess4him @kravitzwhore @cokewithcameron

elevator | other | more casual!drew

[torncwpid]

Tea is a Love Language (apparently)

Summary: Reader being absolutely oblivious to Ghost's feelings (and Soap facepalming)

Cw: gn!sergeant!reader, just a little drabble that I might expand on someday

Word count: 774

You were a sergeant at TF141, and you were very close with the other soldiers - getting along just fine and always playing around with them.

Except for Ghost.

And that was fine, you told yourself. He was closed off with pretty much everyone, and you were new there anyway. It was only expected. He would come around eventually. It’s not like your situation was hostile, after all. There was mutual respect and a somewhat amenable relationship between you. Just because he wasn’t friendly didn’t mean he hated you.

But oh, you were so very wrong.

There you were, making tea for yourself in the common kitchen while trying to keep up with the conversation Soap and Gaz were having nearby. They were mostly bickering about their football teams, but the conversation was entertaining nonetheless. You saw someone approaching in your peripheral vision, and judging by the silence and size of the figure, you easily knew who it was.

"Lt.”

A nod and a grunt is all you get in response.

“D’you want me to make you tea? I mean, it’s almost 16 already. You usually have an Earl Grey. I can prepare it for you since I’m already here.”

Another grunt that sounds like a “yeah.” Seems like you’re getting somewhere.

Turning around to grab a cup and start boiling the water, you’re met with a knowing, smug look plastered on Soap’s face.

“What?”

“He’s lettin’ ye make his tea now?” The confused look on your face must’ve been evident, because he keeps talking. “Means he trusts you, that — Ghost doesn’t let anyone near his bloody kettle.”

You shrug. “It’s jus’ tea. Maybe he doesn’t let you near it ’cause of your kitchen skills.”

Soap lets out a dramatic gasp, one hand flying to his chest like you’d offended his entire family. “Tha’s rich, comin’ from the one who nearly set toast on fire last week.”

“That toaster’s ancient. If anything, I’m the victim here.” You roll your eyes and go back to prepping the tea, unbothered.

Gaz snorts behind you, and you hear the unmistakable clink of him putting his mug down. “You’ve got no idea, do you?”

You look at him now. “About what?”

Soap looks like he’s just been handed the juiciest bit of gossip and adds, without missing a beat, “About Ghost.” He’s got the mischievous smile of a kid who’s about to tell his parents’ biggest secret.

Your eyes roll before settling back down as you dunk the teabag with the slow precision of someone pointedly ignoring whatever drama is brewing.

“He doesn’t let anyone make his tea,” Gaz chimes in, voice pitched like he’s trying to help, but there’s mischief in his words. “He’s a control freak about it. Swear. Exact temp, steep time, no sugar, splash of milk. The one time I tried? He took the mug, dumped it, and made his own.”

“…Maybe he was jus’ feelin’ extra mean that day,” you say finally, turning back to stir the tea.

Soap groans, full-body, like your denial is physically painful to him. “Christ, ye really don’ see it?”

You shrug and walk off with the cup of Earl Grey in your hands, prepared just the way he likes it, which wasn’t difficult to figure out after months of watching him make it the exact same way every day. Walking into the common area, you spot the lieutenant and shove the mug into his hands with a quiet, “Careful. It’s hot.” And he takes it without a word, fingers brushing yours for the briefest second.

Warm, deliberate.

And still, it flies right over your head.

You linger for a moment. Not enough to be weird, just… long enough to see if he approves of the way you prepared his tea. Taking his low hum, quickly followed by a second sip, as a good enough sign, you head back to the kitchen.

You blink. “See? Nothin’ weird.”

Soap throws his hands up with a groan while Gaz shakes his head.

“Unbelievable.”

[ghostlycamil4]

𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜: 𝑁𝑜𝑤 𝑊𝑒'𝑟𝑒 𝑇ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒

a lil something soft and chaotic: bakugo wakes up convinced ur pregnant… just because he dreamed it. it’s exactly as unhinged and sweet as it sounds, hope u enjoy this one

Bakugo jolted awake, heart hammering in his chest like he’d been running. Sweat clung to his forehead—cold, sticky—and his breathing was ragged. His mouth was dry, throat tight with a mix of anxiety and a strange kind of euphoria he couldn’t explain yet. He blinked several times, trying to focus in the dim light of the room. The clock read 3:48 a.m.

He stared at you for several seconds, swallowing hard, eyes burning with intensity.

He couldn’t hold back. He lifted a trembling hand and gently placed it on your shoulder.

"T/n…" he whispered, his voice still rough with sleep. He gave you a gentle shake, like he didn’t want to break something fragile.

You didn’t respond.

He frowned, and this time shook you a little harder.

"T/n, wake up!"

You let out a sleepy groan, frowning, shifting under the blankets.

"Katsuki… stop," you murmured, voice raspy and soaked in sleep.

"Wake up. I need to tell you something."

"Katsuki…" you huffed, barely cracking your eyes open. "Are you serious right now? It’s three in the morning…"

"I know, damn it, I know. But I can’t wait," he said, with more force than he meant to. He sat up beside you, elbows resting on his knees, back tense.

You sighed, annoyed, voice dragging as you forced your eyes open.

"It better be good…" you muttered, propping yourself up on one elbow, hair tangled and falling into your sleepy face.

Bakugo swallowed. His eyes were shining with something different… emotion, anxiety, a flicker of fear.

"Listen… I think it happened."

You frowned.

"What happened?"

"You are."

"I’m what?"

And then he blurted it out, like the words had punched their way out of his chest.

"You’re pregnant."

You stared at him, unblinking.

"You’re insane," you said, starting to roll over and settle back under the covers. But then you heard him.

"I dreamt about him! I dreamt about the baby!"

You froze, your hand halfway to the blanket.

"You what?"

Bakugo leaned in toward you, eyes wide, lit up—so intense it almost scared you.

"Yeah. I dreamt you had this big belly. You looked gorgeous. You were walking around the house, laughing… I swear to god, it felt so real. Then… I was holding him. A boy. He had my hair. And his eyes… they were like yours and mine. He was so warm. I felt it. I fucking felt it, Y/n!"

This wasn’t the Bakugo who made fun of his own emotions. It wasn’t the one who hid his feelings behind grunts and sarcasm. This was someone else—hopeful. Raw.

And then you got it.

It had been seven months of trying. Seven months of tests, calendars, anxiety at every delay, quiet tears with every negative. And now him… he was convinced he felt it. That something, somehow, was already growing inside you.

"Get up," he said firmly, reaching for your hand. "Take a test."

"Right now?"

"Yeah. I can’t sleep ‘til I know. Please."

The bathroom light hit you hard. You walked barefoot across the cold tile, Bakugo close behind. Your hands trembled as you pulled the test from the drawer. He kept his distance while you did what you had to, and then you both waited.

Now it was you leaning against the wall, arms crossed, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from getting your hopes up. Bakugo held the test in his hand, staring at it like he could will it to answer faster.

"It’s not gonna go any quicker just because you’re starin’ at it," you muttered, trying to cut the tension, though your voice cracked more than you wanted.

He didn’t answer at first. Just stood there, still. When he finally looked down at the test… everything went quiet.

You straightened, tense.

"Katsuki…?"

He blinked. Slowly lowered the test and looked at you. For the first time since you stepped into the bathroom, he let out a deep breath. Then looked at the tiny device again… and turned it toward you.

Two lines.

Clear. Bold. Undeniable.

"It’s there," Bakugo said softly. Almost a whisper. But his voice didn’t shake. There was no doubt. Just emotion, thick in his throat, on the edge of breaking.

Your knees buckled. You brought a hand to your mouth, eyes going wide.

"Are you serious?"

He nodded, eyes shining.

"Two lines, Y/n. Two fuckin’ lines."

And then you laughed. A choked laugh that sounded more like a sob, tumbling from your lips as your legs gave out and you slid to the cold floor. The tears spilled before you could stop them—warm, overwhelming. You covered your face with both hands.

Bakugo crouched in front of you instantly, carefully setting the test aside. His hands found yours, gently pulling them away from your face.

"Hey," he murmured, eyes locked on yours. "We did it."

You only nodded, unable to speak. You looked at him like it was the first time. Like you couldn’t believe the man in front of you—the same one who once swore he wouldn’t get attached, wouldn’t need anything more than his job—was now holding you like this, eyes burning with fierce, unspoken love.

"Told you I wasn’t insane," he added with a crooked little smile.

"You weren’t, love..." you whispered through your tears.

He held you tight, face tucked into your neck, clutching you like he still couldn’t believe it. He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to. Everything had already been said.

And there, sitting on the cold bathroom floor—you, crying with joy, him barely holding back his smile—you both knew:

The dream wasn’t just a dream anymore.

It was real now.

Now you were three.

Content @ghostlycamil4 2025. Do not copy or modify.

[hearts4hughes]

Please give us a Part. 2 of Rafe giving reader’s earrings to someone else 😭🥹🥹

part one

the next few days were rough. you hated how rafe could suck you back into his black hole after finally recovering from the first time through.

it was stupid, really. who cares if she has your earrings? they’re just a reminder of the years of your life with him. and yet, you still care. you care that she wore them, that she styled them better. you care that he pawned them off to her like they were from a cheap one-night stand.

you could delete his number, throw away all his things, pretend he never existed, but it doesn’t matter. because when the sunsets and the world quiets, you’re tossing and turning in your bed, praying you could fill the hole in your heart that he left.

the knock comes like guilt. it’s ten minutes past noon (you know because you’ve been checking your watch non-stop like it owed you something). you don’t answer at first. you stay curled up in the same hoodie you’ve been wearing since wednesday, half-watching the same show, half-hoping your phone lights up with his name, half-praying it doesn’t. math was never your thing, but you’re getting real good at fractions.

“it’s me.” his voice is hoarse. like he just woke up or hasn’t slept at all.

you don’t say anything. but your chest folds in on itself, bitter and too tender at the edges. it’s not fair, the way his voice still gets to you. still feels like home, even though it scorched every room. you open the door anyway.

he’s standing there in a black tee, wrinkled jeans, eyes hidden behind the kind of sunglasses he only wears when he’s hungover or trying to hide…maybe both.

in his hand he holds your earrings. they’re dangling, delicate, completely contrasting his calloused hands. the same ones he said “weren’t a big deal” when you asked.

you stare at them. then at him. and it’s like a rubber band snaps in your chest. he doesn’t say anything for a second. just rubs the back of his neck like he’s trying to massage the guilt out of his spine.

“i was drunk,” he says finally. “that night. i didn’t think.”

you blink. once. twice. “yeah, no shit.”

he flinches. good. a beat passes before he opens his mouth again, “i woke up the next morning hungover and feeling like a complete asshole. it wasn’t fair what i did.” the apology lingers on his tongue, but he’s too prideful and arrogant to say it.

you cross your arms, nails digging into your sleeves. “so what, you came to return them like a library book? little too late for that, don’t you think?”

he looks down and breathes in sharp. he holds it for a few seconds before releasing the breath like it was weight on his shoulders. “i couldn’t stop thinking about it,” he says. “about you. how you looked when you wore them. the way you used to play with them when you were nervous. i don’t know. i—” he cuts off, like the words catch in his throat and choke him.

“i told her she had to give them back,” he finishes. “said they weren’t hers to wear. she broke up with me after, but i’m not even sure if we were together.” he shrugs like it was just another day, like that same girl didn’t ruin your entire month.

your chest burns and your vision blurs and somewhere, deep down, something in you unclenches. he holds the earrings out without an argument. he doesn’t try to come inside, doesn’t even meet your eyes—almost as if he was scared he’d say something he’s regret if he did.

“i know i don’t deserve a second chance,” he says, quiet now. “but you deserve your things back. the ones that meant something.”

you don’t take them at first. just stood there with both of your hearts on your sleeves. the air around you feels thick enough to suffocate. then, slowly, your fingers brush his as you reach for them. he shivers…and you hate yourself for noticing.

“you should go,” you whisper because if you don’t say it now, you’ll let him stay. and you don’t know if you’ll survive that again.

he nods once. jaw tight. steps back. but before he turns away, he says it. he’s not loud, not begging. just a soft, broken thing he barely lets himself feel. “i miss you.”

and then he’s gone. you close the door with earrings clutched in your hand and heart bleeding into your sleeves.you miss him too. more than you’re caring to admit.

but this time, missing him has to be enough.

taglist ~ @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @43hughes @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @favbrnette @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae @bibissparkles @brennanyay @grungefck @kravinoffswife

[pome-seed]

Protective Friends (Right?) Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Friends to lovers!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky gets protective when your boyfriend intrudes on a get together and goes a little too far.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Verbal harassment. Slut shaming. Verbally abusive relationship themes. Jealousy. Minor violence.

18+ blog, Minors Do Not Interact.

Authors Note: Just a little drabble for fun, because I love protective Bucky. ALSO, if you want to be apart of my taglist, let me know :)

You giggle excitedly, drumming your hands on Sam’s back as he cracks open a beer. “I’m proud of you Sammy,” you cheer. 

You’re all over at Sam, Steve, and Bucky’s apartment to celebrate Sam getting a new job- and leaving the one he’s hated for months. You wanted to celebrate him, but it was also just an excuse to get together. 

You gladly tagged along, since you didn’t often get to join the big group hang outs. You used to, but just not recently. Your boyfriend, John, wasn’t the biggest fan of your friend group. 

Specifically the guys. 

Specifically Bucky.

“Sam you pick the music, or Bucky’s gonna put on some bullshit,” Clint shouts from the kitchen, where he’s making nachos. 

“Watch it,” Bucky snickers from beside you, handing his phone to Sam. “I have great taste in music.”

You suppress a smile. 

Bucky glances down at you, lifting a brow. “I do!”

You hide your smile behind your drink as you take a sip. “Hey, I like your music, you know that.”

“Then what’s with that look, huh?” He bumps you with his elbow. 

“That pout,” You shrug. “You have a pout.”

“I do not pout,” Bucky scoffs.

“Yeah man, you totally do.” Steve shouts from the couch. 

“Hey!” He rolls his eyes. He turns his fond gaze back to you. “I don’t pout.” He repeats, his lips curling in a soft smile. 

“Okay, sure, you don’t.” You chuckle, turning to follow Sam to the kitchen. Bucky follows you wordlessly, like he always does. “So, now that Sam’s making big boy money, is he finally moving out?”

Sam clicks his tongue, handing Bucky a beer. “Hey, don’t go putting ideas in their heads. I’m here for the long run.” He sips from his drink. “Rent ain’t cheap.”

“Why? are you looking for a new roommate?” Bucky leans his hip against the counter, his smile fond as he looks down at you. 

“Natasha’s probably the best roommate I’ll ever have, so no.” You chuckle, glancing at the woman in the living room.

Bucky sighs, shrugging. “Mkay, your loss. Hanging out would be a lot easier if you were just down the hall, though.” He pouts.

“I think I can make do with just a few blocks between us.” You respond.

“Sure about that? You avoid this place like the plague.” He groans, wiggling his fingers at you. 

“I do not,” You roll your eyes. 

But he’s right. You do.

“Keep telling yourself that. Last time you bailed I had to go to the movies with just Sam- awful.” He huffs.

“You went without me-?” you gasp, smacking his arm. 

“You bailed, we already bought the tickets, what were-” Bucky’s sentence is cut short by a loud noise.

A rough pounding on the door cuts through the casual music and laughter. Bucky’s fond chuckle is cut short. He steps back from the group, off to answer the door.

The knocking doesn’t exactly pull you out of the moment just yet. You’re just too caught up in enjoying time with your friends, in a way you haven’t been allowed to in so long.

Bucky opens the door, but his smile dies instantly. 

“Bucky.” John, your boyfriend, grits. 

“John.” Bucky’s grip on the handle tightens. 

You freeze on the spot, muted dread filling your stomach. 

“Where is she?” John huffs, trying to look around Bucky.

“What are you doing here, John-” Bucky grunts as John shoves past him, into the apartment. The air in the room immediately sours as the blonde stomps forward. 

“Hey, what are you-” You start.

“Are you serious, Y/n?” He spits. Someone cuts the music. 

“Woah, calm down- let’s step outside for a minute…” You cringe, glancing at Bucky over his shoulder. 

“Why? It’s pretty fucking clear you wanted to be here bad enough that you’d lie to me. Why not let them see this?”

“Lie to you?” You gawk. “What are you talking about?” Natasha crosses her arms from a few feet away, her protective nature gearing up as she listens. 

“Don’t play stupid, Y/n. You told me you’d stop hanging out with these people. You know how I feel about them.” He spits, inching closer. 

“Okay, man,” Bucky steps forward, “take a breath and calm down. There’s no need to yell.” He tries to keep things easy, tries to save the peace. 

John whips back to look at Bucky. “Stay the fuck out of this, James.”

Even you flinch at the use of his real name. “John please can we just-”

“How could you go behind my back like this- and here of all places!” John shouts in your face. “You know how I feel about him!” He gestures angrily at Bucky. 

Bucky frowns, yanking John back by the arm. “Look, I don’t know what has you so fucking pissed off, but you need to calm down, or get the fuck out of my house. You’re not gonna talk to her like that.”

Your boyfriend yanks his arm free and steps into the other man's face. “Why? How I talk to my girlfriend isn’t any of your fucking business, Barnes.”

You wince, your hands clasped together in front of your lips. “Oh god-”

Natasha’s hand pets your back silently as she watches Bucky try to calm the blonde man down. 

“It doesn’t matter, you’re not going to throw a fit and yell in her face. Especially not in my house.” Bucky refuses to back down, his deep disgust for the other showing in his expression.

“It doesn’t matter?” John scoffs. He glances back at you with a scowl. “Is this why you’re here?” He shouts. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You huff, throwing your hands up. 

“Him!” John turns back to Buck, shoving a hand into his chest. “Is that it? I fucking knew it, man. I fucking-

“What are you talking about?” The brunette frowns. 

“Are you fucking my girlfriend?” John spits. 

The words are so out of left field that the entire room goes silent. It was already tensely awkward, but now it’s dead silent. Your jaw drops open as a flushed heat stains your skin red. 

John has never been quiet about his insecurities, and specifically his insecurity around Bucky. Bucky is everything John wishes he could be, whether he wants to admit it or not. He’s always been convinced that you had feelings for the man- or the other way around.

And he never lets you forget it. 

Since the moment the two men met, your boyfriend was sour. He got angry every time you mentioned him, and always demanded you stay home from group outings that the man would be a part of.

“What?” Bucky chokes. 

“Are you fucking my girlfriend?”

Bucky’s confused gaze flickers to you over John's shoulder. Your stomach drops, humiliation burning hot beneath your skin. “John please stop- that’s not- we’re not-” You blurt, your sentence finding no end. 

John steps back, looking between the two of you. “That’s why you wanted to come over here, isn’t it? Why you lied to me?” He shakes his head, how scowl curling deeper. “You’re fucking him. You’re a fucking liar, Y/n.”

“Alright, that’s enough-” Bucky’s jaw snaps tight. He yanks John back by the arm dragging him towards the door. “You need to shut your mouth.”

John laughs, his hysterics scaring you, frankly. “Yeah? You don’t want me insulting your little whore? Why not- she gives great head when you knock her down a peg, trust me.”

You barely have time to yelp before Bucky’s fist connects with John's jaw. 

The blonde stumbles back a step, his back hitting the dresser by the door. 

Sam winces from behind you, huddled against the wall with the rest of your friends as they watch this play out. 

John grunts, his hand cradling his bruised jaw. “Fuck-” he groans. 

Bucky yanks him back up by the collar, then gets up in his face. “I better never hear you say another fucking word about her, or I’ll break your fucking jaw next time.” He spits, then yanks open the front door. 

Steve steps past you as he finally steps in, pulling Bucky back. “Okay, okay man- let’s not let this get out of hand.” He mutters, helping to shove your boyfriend out the front door. 

Before the door can slam shut, John shoves his boot in the frame. “Y/n, if you stay here-”

“She’s not going anywhere with you, asshole.” Steve struggles to keep Bucky from swinging again. 

“Fine, keep her.” John snarls, glaring at you through the men. “She’s a lousy fuck anyways.” He stomps down the hall.

The door clicks shut. 

For a moment, the entire room is silent.

The comfortable atmosphere died, along with the rest of your dignity. Nobody moves. Nobody speaks. But then Bucky’s heavy gaze falls on you, and you can’t take it.

You shove out of Natasha’s arms and rush down the hall. Bucky calls your name, but you ignore him. You slam the bathroom door shut behind you and burst into humiliated tears. 

What the fuck just happened? You knew John didn’t like your friends, but you never lied to him. You’ve only been together for a few months, but you’ve always been loyal. Bucky has been one of your best friends for years, but you’ve never crossed that boundary with him.

No matter what you may have once felt for him. 

You didn’t mean for this to happen. But why did it all feel like it was your fault?

The party was ruined. 

Your relationship was ruined. 

Your friendship with Bucky? God you can’t even imagine facing him after everything John said. He’s so kind and so gentle, so understanding and always there for you. But this was just mortifying. 

A gentle knock makes you jump. 

“Hey, can I come in for a sec, doll?” Bucky’s sweet voice vibrates through the door. 

Your stomach twists with dread as you wipe your tears. “Yeah…” You whisper. The door creaks open, but you refuse to look up. You stare down at your lap, your body tense where you sit on the edge of the tub. 

“Hey,” Bucky mutters, clicking the door shut. “You okay?”

You suck in a shaky breath. “Yeah…” Your hands curl to fists in your lap. “I’m so sorry-” You huff, slapping a hand over your face. 

Bucky flinches, his brows furrowing. “Woah- no, no, don’t be,” he rushes forward, kneeling before you. Your lips press into a thin line as you try to keep from crying. “Hey, hey, it’s okay-” he whispers. His large fingers slip carefully around your wrist, pulling your hand away from your face. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

You frown, blinking up at him. Your stomach drops beneath his gaze, shame burning in your veins. 

“It’s not your fault that he’s a dick,” His thumb strokes your inner wrist, refusing to let you go. “I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

You nod, your gaze flickering in the space between you, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. “I’m fine- he just gets like this. He gets jealous…”

Bucky frowns, tilting his head up at you. “He does that kind of stuff often? Does he-” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “Does he always talk to you like that?”

You shrug awkwardly. “Sometimes.” You murmur. “Mostly-” you pause, glancing up at him. He waits patiently. “Mostly just when you’re involved…”

His grip on your wrist twitches. “What do you mean?” Though he already knows the answer. Because he heard everything John said, every poisoned, directed word. 

“He’s just insecure.” You shrug, wiping your cheek on your shoulder. “He’s always been insecure about you. He’s paranoid that you’re in love with me, or something.” You huff, staring down at your lap. 

“Oh,” he mutters, his thumb still carefully stroking your inner wrist. 

You glance up at him, waiting for him to say something. Anything. But he doesn’t. He stays silent as he watches you. You almost flinch when his free hand grazes your cheek, wiping at your tear streak. 

“Oh?” You prompt.

He tilts his head, a soft sigh falling from his lips. “He’s not wrong.” He admits, like it’s any other minute sentence. Your lips part in shock, your chest clenching in unexpected emotion. “But I don’t want that to make you think he’s right for what he did. He should never talk to you like that.”

“He’s not wrong?” You blurt, the rest of his sentence going straight over your head.

Bucky sighs and wipes a hand down his face. When he finally looks back up at you, his ears are tinted a soft pink. “Yeah, sweetheart. He’s not wrong.”

“You like me?” You gape.

He huffs, his lips twitching into a smile. “Did you hear anything else I said?” You swallow, shaking your head honestly. “Y/n, I like you, I’ve always liked you. But you’re my best friend, and you have a stupid ass boyfriend, and he doesn’t treat you right. I’m not saying that because of how I feel, I’m saying that because you’re my best friend, and I never want to see anyone talk to you- or about you- like he did.”

You chew at your cheek, flustered and still deeply humiliated. You nod, listening as he speaks. 

“If you stay with him, that's your decision, and I’ll be there for you. Period, that’s it. But he doesn’t treat you right, and it’ll only get worse. That's how guys like that work.”

You listen and try not to just hang onto those three words, but it’s hard. You want to digest what he’s saying, but sadly, you’ve already thought of it. You know John's behavior is unhealthy. You know it’s a slippery slope to violence and even worse verbal abuse. 

You nod, lowering your head. “I know, I just- I thought it would get better.”

“Do you like him? Not the version of him you first met, but the guy you know.” He tilts his head at you. You can’t fathom how Bucky can so easily have this conversation after what he just confessed. You don’t know how he can do this.

“I…” You contemplate his question, thinking over the last few months of your relationship. 

Deep down you already knew the answer. Because even the version of him that you met wasn’t striking. You weren’t head over heels in love with John. You just noticed him, and he noticed you. He took you home, and took you out every week since then. You thought he could be funny, and he could be kind, but his temper was always short. 

It always felt like you were a third wheel in your relationship, sharing space with him and his ego. 

And truth was, there was only one reason you ever went out with John to begin with. 

Bucky.

You just wanted to find an outlet, a distraction, a way to move on from the heavy weight in your chest you’ve felt for years.

“I don’t want to stay with him.” You start. “Because he was right.”

He stiffens, his throat bobbing as he swallows. “About me?”

“About me,” you whisper. “That he was a distraction for me.” You glance up into those pretty blue eyes. “He was right, because I’ve always liked you.” You confess with a heavy sigh. 

Bucky’s fingers twitch around your wrist, his brows shooting to his hairline. “Huh?”

You blush, your chin dropping to your chest. “I have to repeat it? I’ve already had a pretty embarrassing evening-”

“I heard you,” he mutters, his hand slipping into yours now. “Are you sure?”

You nod, your stomach twisting. “Yeah, I’m sure…”

He tries to suppress his ill timed smile- because this really isn’t the time for this- but he can’t. “Oh.”

A soft knock echoes against the door.

“Hey, everything okay in there?” Natasha mutters from the other side. 

“Uh- yeah,” Bucky shouts, his gaze fixed on yours. “All good…”

“I don’t want to go out yet- or ever, honestly.” You mutter, your fingers twitching against his.

“Okay,” He nods, crisscrossing his legs on the floor. “We can stay here for as long as you need.” 

And those simple words remind you of why Bucky was always the one for you, not anyone else. Because he would always be kind to you. He would always be there, patient and loving. 

He would always be Bucky.

A/N: Not amazing, but just a little self indulgent. Also, fun fact- all the things John says are based off real events.

@a-world-with-pure-imagination @frog-fans-unite @1967barracuda @akkklys @cherryheairt

[checkeredflagggs]

Season 2: Electric Boogaloo — Part 1

Pairing: logan sargeant x female!driver!reader

summary: y/n, redbull’s second driver is back and ready to terrorize the grid! falling in love with her best friend wasn’t in her plans

a/n: this was requested back in February and I put it on the back burner for…a long while. Sorry about that

a/n2: this is the first of 3 or 4? Each section will cover about 6 races or so

a/n3: I am changing the results of races to fit my narrative — I rolled a d20 die to figure out where my girl was gonna place in the championship so that’s how that was chosen

Masterlist | Taglist

Private Messages, Logan and y/n (2024)

y/n_rb

liked by maxverstappen1, pierregasly, oscarpiastri, and 823,913 others

y/n_rb: Merry Christmas to all my people that celebrate! Enjoy some pictures of my place and the gifts I got for some people!

view all comments

user1: did you really get them cardboard cutouts of you??

↳y/n_rb: I did! They can’t have the real thing for a couple of months so I thought this would hold them over!

↳user1: 😂😂

oscarpiastri: no

↳y/n_rb: maybe!

↳oscarpiastri: please tell me you didn’t get me a cardboard version of you

↳oscarpiastri: please

↳y/n_rb: I can’t tell you what I got you for Christmas! That’s cheating!

↳user2: Will you tell us?

↳y/n_rb: 🤭🤭

liamlawson30: if I wake up with a cardboard cutout of you anywhere in my house, it’s on on sight

↳y/n_rb: oh no. im so scared. look at how scared i am

↳user3: and here i was scared that being on break would mean you weren’t bullying the grid

↳y/n_rb: banish the thought!

↳liamlawson30: how do i dislike a comment??

pierregasly: thanks!

↳y/n_rb: really?

↳pierregasly: yeah I needed something to start a bonfire later!

↳y/n_rb: Kika would never

↳francisca.cgomes: never mon amour!

↳pierregasly: again, please stop stealing my girlfriend

↳y/n_rb: our girlfriend

user4: ok but i need to know everyone who got one…

↳user5: please please please 🙏 let the grid or y/n comment on who got them

maxverstappen1: y/n…

↳y/n_rb: hi max!

↳maxverstappen1: did you really?

↳y/n_rb: perhaps…

↳oscarpiastri: join the club

↳y/n_rb: you better not have opened your gift early!

↳hattiepiastri: he did…

↳y/n_rb: rude!

↳y/n_rb: lilyzneimer you should leave him…

↳lilyzneimer: ask me again when I’m not in Australia hun

↳oscarpiastri: seriously??

↳y/n_rb: that’s what you get from opening your presents to early! liked by lilyzneimer, hattiepiastri

News

Private Messages, Logan and y/n (January 2025)

y/n_rb

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 1,824,244 others

y/n_rb: winter vacay time — we were the coolest kids on the hill

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user6: looks fun!

user7: so jealous…

maxverstappen1: don’t break anything

↳y/n_rb: why was that your first thought?!?

↳y/n_rb: why couldn’t you have said something like “have fun y/n!” Or “I hope you’re enjoying yourself!”

↳y/n_rb: but no it’s just “don’t break anything”

↳maxverstappen1: kid I don’t know how many times you were in the hospital last year — this is just me being hopeful

↳y/n_rb: …ok you got me there

oscarpiastri: hope you’re having fun!

↳y/n_rb: do you guys hear anything?

↳user8: we don’t!

↳y/n_rb: cause i could have sworn it was from Brutus…

↳oscarpiastri: ok just cause we had to cancel on you doesn’t mean I’d stab you in the back

↳user9: you guys know about Julius Cesar?

↳oscarpiastri: I went to school!

↳y/n_rb: I celebrate the holiday liked by user8, user9

user10: ok but are we gonna talk about who went with her?? Cause we know it’s not Oscar…

↳y/n_rb: let’s not!

↳user10:…

↳user10: if you say so 🫡

y/n_rb

liked by maxverstappen1, pierregasly, alexandrasaintmleux, and 1,824,384 others

y/n_rb: awww flowers for Valentine’s Day…🥰🥰

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maxverstappen1: what is this?? Why are you getting flowers?? Who’s getting you flowers??

↳y/n_rb: I can get flowers!

↳maxverstappen1: who’s getting them for you though?!?

↳y/n_rb: I don’t know…

↳y/n_rb: but they’re so pretty!

pierregasly: who likes you enough to get you flowers?

↳y/n_rb: Kika does!

↳francisca.cgomes: there’s some already on the way! I can’t be shown up mon amour 

↳y/n_rb: no one will replace what we have babe

↳francisca.cgomes: 😍😍

↳pierregasly: I’d like to go one day without you flirting with MY girlfriend 

↳y/n_rb: perish the thought — I need to flirt with my girl at least daily liked by francisca.cgomes

oscarpiastri: why would anyone want to buy you flowers?

↳liamlawson30: that was my question

↳y/n_rb: I’m gonna run you both off track this season

↳redbullracing: You can’t just say that y/n. Please don’t make us schedule another training day…

alexandrasaintmleux: someone is trying to take my girl?

↳francisca.cgomes: someone is…

↳lilymhe: the audacity!

↳lilyzneimer: who do we talk to about this?

↳y/n_rb: no no no babes I can explain — you guys are still my number ones!

fernandoalo_oficial: oh?

↳y/n_rb: Mr. Fernando sir I’m texting you as we speak 

↳fernandoalo_oficial: good

f1

liked by user, user, user, and 2,283,672 others

tagged: y/n_rb

f1: and y/n crashes early on during her session at pre-season testing today in Bahrain. The session has been red-flagged and y/n has been taken to Medical for a check-up

view all comments

user11: I mean are we shocked??

↳user12: that’s what you get when you hire a woman

↳user13: and such an emotional one at that…

user14: well I thought she’d put all of this behind her with her rookie year

↳user15: right? Like grow up

user16: I hope she’s ok…

↳user17: me too! I keep checking her socials to see if she’s posted anything yet…

user18: I hope this isn't gonna be indicative of the rest of the season… I don’t think I can do another season of hospital visits

↳user19: harsh but true

user20: I’m glad that redbull has finally stood up for one of their drivers (other than their golden boys) and said to give her time

↳user21: they did?? Where??

↳user20: redbull just posted an interview!

Private Messages, Logan and y/n

Bluesky

Private Messages, Logan and y/n (Australia)

redbullracing

liked by y/n_rb, maxverstappen, logansargeant, and 2,823,182 others

tagged: y/n_rb, maxverstappen1

redbullracing: And that’s how you start a season off right! A Redbull 1-3 with y/n charging ahead to steal the win from McLaren’s Lando Norris!

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user22: holy shit was that an amazing race!

↳user23: so so happy for our girl!

y/n_rb: was just like riding a bicycle!

↳logansargeant: I know how you ride bicycles and this went significantly better

↳y/n_rb: shut up!

↳user24: Logan sighting!

oscarpiastri: congratulations y/n

↳y/n_rb: you too dude — amazing save btw!

↳oscarpiastri: thanks y/n

↳user25: besties for life right here!

↳oscarpiastri: ok I almost just crashed why are you being so mean to me?!?

↳y/n_rb: the people have spoken! we’re gonna be friends forever!

↳oscarpiastri: deep sigh

user26: that overtake on the last lap though…

↳user27: that was literally the hottest thing I’ve ever seen!

↳y/n_rb: all in a days work!

maxverstappen1: congrats kid

↳y/n_rb: thanks old man 😉

↳maxverstappen1: is it too late to ask for another teammate?

↳y/n_rb: yes

alexandrasaintmleux: you look amazing on the top step mon bébé

↳y/n_rb: I did it all for you gorgeous!

↳charles_leclerc: please…

Private Messages, Logan and y/n (China)

Private Messages, Logan and y/n (Japan)

redbullracing

liked by y/n_rb, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, and 2,824,283 others

tagged: y/n_rb, pierregasly

redbullracing: Japan showed us the highs and lows of the sport — congratulations to Max for his win and condolences to y/n for her DNF

view all comments

y/n_rb: MY DNF?!? No no no this was the FUCKING FRENCHMAN’S FAULT

y/n_rb: pierregasly WHERE ARE YOU

y/n_rb: THIS SHIT WAS NOT FUNNY LAST YEAR AND ITS NOT FUNNY THIS YEAR

↳user28: girl they’re gonna fine you if you continue…

↳user29: No no no let her speak. That was a foul move by Pierre

pierregasly: ok if I say I’m sorry?

↳y/n_rb: YOU

↳francisca.cgomes: Mon amour he really is sorry

↳y/n_rb: …if you say so babe

↳user30: wow you changed your tune real fast…

↳y/n_rb: anything for my girl liked by francisca.cgomes

maxverstappen1: great race today guys. thanks for all the help

↳y/n_rb: fantastic performance today max!

↳maxverstappen1: thanks kid

↳user31: this is why you guys are my favorite duo

Private Messages, Logan and y/n (Bahrain)

y/n_rb

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, charles_leclerc, and 1,834,284 others

y/n_rb: oh we’re so back baby! P1 & 2!! Go Bulls!

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user32: 🏆🏆🏆🏆

↳user33: Hell yeah!!

maxverstappen1: that was a great race kid! Congrats on p2

↳y/n_rb: thanks max! It’s always fun to race against you

↳y/n_rb: we’ll definitely have to do it more often!

user34: love that she’s proving the haters and the doubters wrong!

↳user35: she didn’t finish 2 separate races already this year?

↳user34: ok let’s actually break this down for you?

↳user34: she won in Australia, had engine failure in the china sprint, went from p18 to p4 in the china race,

↳user34: then Pierre crashed into her at Suzuka and she just went wheel to wheel with the reigning world champ and got p2 in a nail biting race

↳user34: she’s a close 3rd the championship right now and you’re trying to say she’s disappointing you?

↳user34: be so for real right now

logansargeant: great race y/n

↳y/n_rb: thanks Logan!

↳alex_albon: what? No congratulations for your favorite teammate?

↳y/n_rb: wait wait wait a minute there Albono! Logan and were teammates back in f2…

↳y/n_rb: the favorite teammate is gonna be me!

↳oscarpiastri: this is such Australian erasure

user36: love to see a girlboss winning!

↳y/n_rb: and it’s gonna continue!

Private Messages, Logan and y/n

f1gossip

liked by user, user, user, and 1,024,274 others

f1gossip: Spotted! Y/N L/N, Redbull’s second driver, out on a date with a mystery man! Who could it be?

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user37: what?

user38: WHAT??

user39: y/n is dating??? When did this happen???

↳user50: what I want to know is if the grid knows??

↳user51: omg that would be amazing — remember when she got flowers for Valentine’s Day??

↳user52: oh it’s gonna be a riot when they find out

user53: I’m going to throw out a far fetched idea…

↳user54: go on…

↳user53: I’m saying it’s Logan Sargeant

↳user54: alright granny let’s get you back to bed

↳user53: no no no think about it!

↳user53: y/n and Logan have been friends for years and they grew even closer last year while they were racing together

↳user53: and remember last year? Logan was ALWAYS the one going to the hospital to visit her, even flying in from Miami at the end of the season

↳user53: and I’d put money on the fact that Logan was the one went on the snowboarding trip with her over winter break

↳user53: in conclusion? Childhood friends to lovers happening in real time right in front of us!

↳user54: …no

y/n_rb

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y/n_rb: “Sun lights up the day time. Moon lights up the night. I light up when you call my name”

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[bucketsorbueckers]

Wishing you the best (in the worst way) - 10

Paige X Azzi

Warning: Language

a/n: in between - gracie abrams. thats it.

🎥 TikTok Post — @pazzitruthers 🎶 "in between by gracie abrams" — playing softly in the background [Clip 1: Grainy nighttime video outside a Dallas rooftop party. Azzi steps out first. NYC . Reaches back. Paige follows—quiet, a little dazed—hand in hers.] [Clip 2: UConn era. Paige tackles Azzi after a buzzer-beater. They tumble to the court, laughing.] [Clip 3: Interview clip—Azzi watching Paige] [Clip 3: Interview clip—Paige watching Azzi] [Clip 5: A silly phone video—Paige recording Azzi trying to flip a pancake. It lands on the floor. They both wheeze-laugh.] [Clip 6: Game footage. Azzi draining a three. Paige on the bench grinning. Mouthing: “That’s my girl.”] [Clip 7: That photo. The one after the game. Shoulder to shoulder. Hand on skin. Azzi flinching away.] [Clip 8: Back to the party. Azzi squeezing Paige’s hand like she means it. Paige glancing down. Smiling. Just barely.]

Azzi’s POV

Hi.

It was such a small, inconsequential thing to throw out there between them. She had planned something better—something that sounded less like a flinch and more like a beginning. Can we talk? Maybe. Or I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we were seventeen.

But instead, only that single word squeaked out. And Paige didn’t say anything.

Just blinked once, slow. The kind of blink that felt like a door closing.

Azzi didn’t know what she’d expected. A hug? A laugh? A line that broke the tension and let them pretend they hadn’t spent the last few years building walls they didn’t know how to climb back over?

She should’ve walked away. God, she knew that.

But Paige was standing there like someone Azzi used to know and still dreamed about. And Azzi? She didn’t believe in fate but she believed in this. This pull. This ache. This quiet between them that never stayed quiet for long. In Paige and Azzi as it always had been.

So she stayed.

And when that other girl stepped in—Quinn, her name was—Azzi almost took the out. Almost smiled politely. Almost excused herself. Almost let Paige go again before she made anything worse. Before her being here turned into a mistake they couldn’t come back from.

But she stayed planted. Firmly.

“Do you guys know each other?” Quinn asked, voice easy.  Like she hadn’t just wandered into the middle of a fault line.

Paige didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just shrugged, casual. Cruel. “Yeah. You could say that.”

And Azzi felt it. The shift. The sting. The way a single sentence could hollow out everything she’d been trying so hard to hold onto. Because Paige was always so good at that—sounding like she didn’t care. Like it didn’t matter. Even when it did. Especially when it did.

Still, Azzi didn’t move. Didn’t crack. She just nodded once, small. Careful. Like if she moved too quickly, she’d spill everything.

Because the truth was, she didn’t come here for redemption. She came to see if there was anything left to salvage. And maybe that started with letting Paige say things that hurt. Maybe that started with standing still.

Quinn shifted beside them, clearly sensing something she couldn’t name. “Paige, want to get another drink?” she asked, tentative. Hopeful.

But Paige didn’t answer. Didn’t even glance her way.  Her eyes stayed fixed on Azzi—sharp, unreadable, unwavering. One brow lifted. Barely. But it was enough.

Azzi knew what it meant. Even buried beneath all the resentment, the hurt, the months of silence, it was still Paige’s version of an open door. A crack in the wall. A chance.

“I’m sorry—” she started, the words falling out too quickly. And she almost kept going. Almost apologized for interrupting, for showing up like this, for being a mess in the exact way Paige hated.

But she stopped herself.

Instead, she took a breath.  Steadied. And did the one thing she was never good at. She reached out—slow, sure—and laced her fingers with Paige’s.

“I need to talk to you,” she said. Voice clear. Barely shaking.

Paige’s eyes flicked down to where their hands met—skin on skin. Then back to Azzi’s face.

Azzi didn’t really pray. Not out loud. Not in words that made sense. But in that moment, with Paige looking at her like she was a wound reopening, Azzi closed her eyes anyway. And begged. Not just God—because that felt too formal, too far away—but the universe, the stars, the silence between heartbeats.

Please. Just this once. Let me stay. Let her let me stay. Let us make this right.

Paige chewed the inside of her cheek but didn’t look away. Her eyes stayed fixed on Azzi’s, and it was all there, barely buried—anger, ache, the echo of everything they used to be.

And still, somehow, that stupid hope in Azzi’s chest persisted. Fragile and breathless. The kind of hope that hurt to carry. The kind that bloomed in the quiet between heartbeats. That believed as fragile as second, and third, and fourth chances, even when it shouldn’t.

Because no one had ever looked at her like Paige had. Even now when they felt miles apart.

And yeah, Azzi had ruined it. Had run from it. But she still felt it, deep in her ribs. That tether. That knowing. The way they’d fit together in the dark, not just with hands and mouths but with something older. Something nameless.

Paige blinked, slow. Her jaw worked like she wanted to say something. Maybe everything. Maybe nothing. But she didn’t let go.

Finally, Paige cleared her throat. The sound was quiet, but it felt like a bell tolling between them. A signal. A shift.

“Not here,” she said, voice low. 

Azzi nodded, pulse kicking up. “I know a place,” she said, and it came out softer than she meant it to. 

Because Paige had said yes. Not in so many words, not really. But she'd said it all the same. She hadn't walked away. She hadn't let go. And that? That felt like enough.

So Azzi turned, still holding Paige’s hand, like it might vanish if she let go. And Azzi led the way.

And maybe that shouldn’t have felt like such a big deal but it did. Because Paige had always been the one to move first. The one to close the distance. To crack the joke. To reach across whatever silence stretched between them and make it feel smaller.

But not tonight.

Tonight, it was Azzi’s hand that found Paige’s. Azzi’s that led the way. Azzi’s steps that carved a path through the dark, quiet street. And Paige followed—hesitant, maybe, but willing.

It felt like flipping a switch. Like rewriting the rules of a story they’d been telling for years. Because for once, Azzi wasn’t just loving Paige quietly, from the sidelines. She was choosing her. Out loud. In motion. With every step forward.

The streets blurred as they walked, city noise dimming to a low hum behind them. Paige didn’t ask where they were going. Azzi wasn’t even sure she could’ve explained it if she tried.

She just kept walking—turning corners by muscle memory, led by some ache lodged deep in her chest. Her fingers stayed curled around Paige’s like she was afraid letting go would undo whatever fragile thread they were threading between them.

She stopped in front of the gym, punching in the code without looking at her. The door clicked open.

Inside, it smelled the same—rubber, dust, that faint citrus of whatever cleaner they always used too much of. The lights buzzed as they blinked on, casting long shadows across the floor.

Azzi stepped onto the court, the boards creaking under her sneakers. She turned, eyes catching on the outline of Paige still by the doorway.

“I used to love this place,” she said.

Her voice didn’t echo. It just sort of dropped, quiet and final. Paige looked around like it was haunted. Like the ghost of something—of them—was still waiting at the free throw line.

They’d trained here for three summers. Maybe four. Hard to remember now, with the years blurred like fog on glass. But Azzi remembered the feeling. Of sneakers squeaking against wood, of Paige’s laugh echoing off the rafters, of shared water bottles and split granola bars, of lying side by side at half-court, chests heaving, sweat sticking their shoulders together like gravity had its own agenda.

Back then, it had been easy. Or not easy, exactly but uncomplicated. They pushed each other until their legs gave out, until their vision blurred from exhaustion, not heartbreak. Paige would dribble with her eyes closed just to show off, and Azzi would fake left, drive right, and shout called it before the ball even swished.

There was music sometimes. Someone’s old speaker. A playlist they never updated. They’d sing like idiots between drills, like nothing hurt yet.

Azzi stepped toward the middle of the court now, arms crossed tight against the chill. She hadn’t been back in years. Didn’t think Paige had either. But the past still lived in the corners. In the scuffed lines. In the faint marks on the wall where someone—probably Paige—had chucked a ball in frustration and left a dent.

She turned toward Paige, still by the door. Still unreadable.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Azzi said finally. “Only place that still felt honest.”

Paige didn’t answer right away. Just rubbed a hand over her face and exhaled, like she was trying to breathe out everything she hadn’t said since the last time they stood this close. But she didn’t bolt. Didn’t laugh it off or turn the moment into something easier. And Azzi figured—for now—that was enough.

She glanced around the gym. The faded lines. The crooked rim. The air still holding the ghost of their laughter if she listened hard enough.

“We always had fun here,” Azzi said, almost to herself.

“Yeah,” came Paige’s voice, closer than expected. “We did.”

Azzi turned and there she was.

She hadn’t even heard the door close, but Paige was already inside, already walking toward her. Just a few steps away, like the distance between them had never really mattered. Like it had only ever been waiting to close.

Without a word, Paige passed by, grabbed a ball, and tossed it to her.

Azzi caught the ball like she’d done it a thousand times—which, of course, she had. But this time, her hands trembled just a little. The rubber kissed her palms like it remembered her, like it hadn’t been years since it had touched her this way.

She looked up.

Paige didn’t say anything. Just nodded toward the hoop, like go on then. Like this wasn’t the first time she’d dared Azzi to make the first move.

So she did.

The ball left her hands in a clean arc, and the sound when it swished through the net cracked the silence wide open. Paige’s mouth didn’t move, but something in her eyes did. The tiniest shift. A crease of memory. A pulse of something soft and tired and almost tender.

She grabbed the rebound, passed it back without a word. And then, for a little while, that was it.

No history. No heartbreak. Just two girls and a hoop and the ghosts of all the summers they used to be. Sweating through tank tops, whispering secrets between drills, lying side by side on the court until the ceiling blurred above them.

They didn’t speak. Didn’t need to.

Azzi moved through the space like her body still remembered what it meant to be loved here. What it meant to be safe. Paige passed without looking. Azzi caught without thinking. And when Paige missed one long, Azzi jogged after the ball and tossed it back with a crooked grin.

No teasing. No scoreboard. Just the ache of familiarity pressed between every movement.

For a few minutes, it was just them again. Not the ruined version. Not the wreckage. Just Paige and Azzi how they once had always been. 

Paige’s POV

She watched Azzi shoot another three—clean, quiet, like muscle memory more than effort. It dropped through the net without ceremony, no celebration, no show. But there was something about it. Azzi barefoot in that dress, hair falling out of place, not trying to prove anything—that made Paige smile. Small and involuntary. The kind that felt like giving in.

Azzi saw it. Caught just enough of the curve of Paige’s mouth to let herself smile back. Then she stepped in and tossed a pass across the empty space between them.

Paige passed it back. An easy flick of her wrist. Azzi caught it and returned it without hesitation, each toss closing the gap between them. No defense. No games. Just the rhythm they’d always known.

Closer. And closer.

Until it was just the two of them and the ball between their hands. Inches apart. Breath and heartbeat distance.

Paige’s voice came low. Rough but not unkind.

“You said you need to talk,” she muttered. “So, talk.”

Azzi stared up at her through thick lashes, and Paige tried not to flinch at the feeling it stirred. That old, traitorous rhythm in her chest. Steady, familiar, impossible to forget. It pulsed through her like instinct.

Azzi. Azzi. Azzi.

“I called my mom today,” Azzi said, voice quiet but certain.

Paige raised an eyebrow, a little wary.

“We talked. About everything. About you. About me. About what we were.”

Paige nodded once, slow.

Then Azzi looked up. “Why didn’t you tell me you came that Christmas?”

Paige’s stomach dropped. She blinked once, slow.

“I didn’t think it mattered.”

Azzi shook her head, soft. “It did.”

And just like that, Paige was back there—stupid, pathetic, twenty-four and aching in a way she hadn’t had the language for. She was supposed to be headed towards her dad's place, but muscle memory took the wheel, and she ended up on a street she didn’t belong to anymore. In front of a house that still made something behind her ribs tighten.

She’d known, somewhere deep down, that Azzi wouldn’t be there. But she’d hoped anyway. Because that’s what Paige did when it came to Azzi. Hope past reason. Hope past proof.

It was Katie who answered the door.

And maybe she should’ve turned around. But instead, she helped untangle Christmas lights. Held the ladder while Katie fixed a string that kept going out. They decorated the tree with ornaments that had Azzi’s name scribbled in glitter glue. They drank cider and watched It’s a Wonderful Life, and Paige didn’t cry, but something in her felt fragile the whole time. Like her skin was too thin and the wrong word might split her open.

She hadn’t expected Azzi to know. She hadn’t wanted her to know.

“I wish you would’ve told me.”

Paige scuffed her toe against the hardwood, eyes dropping like the weight of the question had finally hit

“What would it have changed, Azzi?”

Azzi blinked. “I don’t know. But maybe something important.”

Paige exhaled sharply through her nose. Like that truth stung in a place she thought she’d already cauterized.  She looked away, toward the far basket, the one Azzi used to favor on late nights.

“I wasn’t-,” she said eventually. “That Christmas. I wasn’t even sure you’d be there. I just…” Her voice faltered. “I missed you. I missed myself. I missed the version of me that still mattered in your life. The version of myself that still believed I could knock on your door and still be welcome by you."

Azzi’s breath hitched, barely audible.  “You would’ve been.”

Paige turned her head, eyes sharp now. “Would I? Or would I have gotten another quiet apology and a front row seat to you shutting the door again?”

Azzi stepped forward, careful. Like she was walking barefoot across a memory. “You helped my mom put up the tree.”

Paige let out a breath that sounded like a laugh if you squinted at it sideways. “Yeah. She was struggling with the lights.”

“She said you stayed. Drank cider. Watched It’s a Wonderful Life like it didn’t wreck you every year.”

Paige shrugged. “Felt like something we used to do.”

Azzi’s voice dropped. “We did.”

“I was just—” Paige sighed, dragging a hand through her hair. “Looking for signs of life. Pieces of what I thought would always exist. I was so lost after that first season. Still reeling from us. From you. I just reached for the first thing that felt—”

“Familiar?” Azzi offered, gentle.

Paige shook her head, eyes glassy but steady. “Felt like home.”

The words sat there between them. Soft. Terrible. True.

The silence settled. Dense and humming. Paige shifted her weight, bouncing once on her toes like movement might loosen the pressure in her chest. Her hands stayed buried in her pockets.

“What’re we actually doing here, Az?” she asked, voice low.

Azzi shrugged. Ran a hand over her hair, then down the sheer fabric of her dress like she didn’t know what to do with herself.

“I—I wanted to talk. To say I’m sorry.”

“For what exactly?”

Azzi looked up, and for a second, Paige thought she might bolt. But something in her posture—tense, trembling—said she wouldn’t. Not this time. Not when it mattered.

“For all of it,” Azzi said, her voice quiet but steady. “For that night in Storrs. For walking away without trying harder. For not knowing how to say any of this when it would’ve mattered more.”

Paige bit the inside of her cheek. Hard enough to taste blood. She’d told herself she was over this. That whatever softness remained had hardened over. But there it was, cracking open.

“We’ve tried this,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Tried saying sorry. Tried fixing things. We never get it right.”

Azzi didn’t flinch. Just shook her head once, firm. “Then let’s get it wrong. One more time.”

Paige looked at her and hated how much of herself still lived in Azzi’s eyes. How much of her heart still bent toward this girl, even now. And maybe it wasn’t smart. Maybe it wasn’t fair. But the truth was, Paige had never been able to deny Azzi anything. Not when she meant it. Not when she asked like this.

So, she didn’t walk away. Didn’t throw up her usual wall.

She just whispered, “Okay.”

Azzi nodded. 

“I didn’t feel like I mattered to you anymore,” Azzi confessed. The words rushed. “I know that sounds dramatic, but that’s where I was. You were so sure of your path, your future. And I was still—figuring mine out. I didn’t think you had the space or patience for that.”

She paused, breathing unevenly. Like she could already feel the fall but couldn’t stop herself from stepping off the edge.

“I left because I didn’t think you believed in me. Not really. Not the way I believed in you.” Her voice cracked, but she didn’t flinch. “I had dreams too. But I stopped saying them out loud because I didn’t think you thought they counted. Not unless they looked like yours.”

Paige didn’t speak. Just stood there and took it, each word landing somewhere too soft to defend.

“I should’ve said something,” Azzi whispered. “I should’ve asked for more. But I didn’t know how. And part of me… part of me was scared you’d look at me and finally see it. That I wasn’t enough. That I was just something else you’d eventually outgrow.”

Paige just stared at her. Dumbfounded.

Not because she didn’t believe it—Azzi’s voice was too raw, too frayed at the edges—but because it was so backward from what Paige had known, what she’d carried.

She had cared. God, she had cared so much it had made her stupid. Soft. Reckless.

She’d been mapping out how to stay in Connecticut that off-season. Skipping overseas offers. Like she didn’t need the league or the headlines, just Azzi. Her games. Her routines. Her voice in the dark after practice, saying things that made Paige feel tethered.

And all that time, Azzi thought she didn’t believe in her. All that time, Azzi was shrinking in her own dreams while Paige had been trying to build a world around them.

She didn’t realize her hands had left her pockets. That her fingers had curled into fists.

“I—” Paige tried, but the word collapsed on impact. Her throat burned. Her chest felt tight in a way that was almost laughable, if any of this had been funny.

“You kept talking about Dallas,” she said finally. “About me flying out. Sitting courtside. Like it was already decided that you were there and I was expected to just follow."

She didn’t say it harshly. Just…quietly. Like the memory itself was fragile.

“I don’t think you ever stopped to ask what I wanted that summer. I had plans too. To train. To compete. But it felt like none of it mattered unless it revolved around you.”

She looked up at the ceiling, jaw clenched, like that might stop the tears from making a mess of everything.

“I was scared, Azzi,” she said. “I could feel you pulling away. Not just emotionally—I mean physically. Like I was watching the better half of myself drift somewhere I couldn’t follow.”

She laughed, once, bitterly. “So I panicked. Is that a crime? I panicked and tried to prove things to you. Tried to show you that you still mattered. That you weren’t an afterthought, not even close. That no matter how the world shifted, you were still the person. The one I was building everything around.”

Her voice broke on the last word. And she didn’t try to fix it.

Azzi went quiet. Not the kind of silence that stung. This one settled deep. Gentle, but devastating. Paige hated it more than yelling. So she spoke.

“I thought you were scared of losing me to the league,” Paige said. Her voice didn’t rise. It barely even held. “To the next step. The version of me you didn’t choose.” She swallowed, tried to laugh, but it sounded like a crack in the wall. “So I tried to prove I had already carved out space for you. In all of it. Every version of what came next, I made sure you were there.”

Paige was crying. She didn’t care. Not about the tears streaking down her face, or the way her voice broke in the middle of sentences. Everything hurt. The last two years. The silence. The space between them that had only stretched wider the more she tried to close it.

It all felt broken.

But still, she reached. Her hands shook and her chest ached and it felt like every inch she moved toward Azzi just cut her deeper. Like loving her was a wound she kept pressing on just to prove it still mattered.

“I just wanted to prove—” Paige’s voice cracked. “That just because everything was changing didn’t mean we had to. Didn’t mean I changed. Didn’t mean I stopped feeling the way I did.”

She shook her head, furious with herself now, with how hard this was to say.

“I wish I’d known how to do it better. I wish I’d known the words you needed. But I was scared and stubborn and so stupidly in love with you, Azzi. I held on the only way I knew how.” She looked up. “And I know it wasn’t enough. But it was all I had left.”

Azzi staggered back half a step, like the truth had weight. Like it knocked something loose in her chest.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered. Her voice wasn’t steady. It cracked and folded in on itself, like she couldn’t hold it together if she tried.  And then she broke. Shoulders shaking, breath hitching, the kind of crying that came from somewhere too deep to stop. “I thought I ruined it. That I asked for too much or wanted too big or just—wasn’t worth staying for. I told myself you didn’t love me like that anymore because it hurt less than thinking you did and still left. I thought you were already gone.”

Paige blinked. The ceiling blurred. Her throat burned.

“Jesus, Az.” She swallowed hard. “I was figuring out how to stay.”

She didn’t list it all. How she’d turned down every flashy invite that had come for later in the year, how she’d started looking at rentals in Connecticut before the season had even ended. How she’d mapped out her training schedule around Azzi’s. How she’d already said no to half a dozen things because she’d wanted to say yes to this. To her.

To them.

“I came to Dallas,” Azzi said, too fast. Too much. “I watched your first game. I sat in the highest row because I didn’t want anyone to see me. I was late because I couldn’t even decide if I should go in. I almost turned around four different times.”

Azzi kept going, voice unraveling. “You hit that shot at the buzzer and the whole place exploded. Everyone screaming, losing their minds—and I just stood there. Clapping. Crying. Looking like an idiot in the last row because all I could think was how brilliant you were. How you were everything. You always have been. And I was just…me. Just this person who couldn’t seem to keep you.”

She laughed, watery and broken. “And still, all I wanted was to run down to the court and wrap my arms around you. Like nothing had changed. Like we hadn’t completely wrecked each other.”

Her hands dropped to her sides. “I thought if I saw you happy, I’d be able to move on. But all it did was make everything worse. Because you still looked like home. And I still wanted to come back.”

Paige stepped back, stunned. She tried to picture it. Azzi alone in that arena, watching from the cheap seats like she hadn’t once been everything. It didn’t compute. It didn’t fit. But God, it hurt anyway.

“You watched me play and didn’t tell me?” Paige asked, voice cracking in that way she hated. “Why would you do that?”

Azzi looked away. “Because you looked so happy,” she said, and it sounded like a confession. “Like you’d figured it out. Like you didn’t need me anymore. And I—I was sitting there thinking, this is what she looks like when I’m not the weight around her ankle.”

Paige’s throat went tight. She couldn’t breathe around the way Azzi said it. Couldn’t stop the flicker of grief behind her ribs.

“I wanted to say something,” Azzi whispered. “I did. I wanted to run down the stairs and find you and say God, I miss you, but I couldn’t. I didn’t think I had the right.”

Paige looked at her—really looked. At the trembling lip, the too-familiar way Azzi crossed her arms like she was waiting to be told she didn’t matter.

And something cracked.

She stepped closer. “Since the day I met you, there’s been this place in me shaped exactly like you. And it didn’t vanish when we fell apart—it just went quiet. Hollowed out. Started echoing.” Her throat worked around the weight of it. “I’ve tried to fill it. With the game. With noise. With people who didn’t know me before I was this. But nothing fits. Nothing feels right unless you’re in the room.”

She let out a soft breath. Like surrendering. 

“You’ve been the constant. Even in the silence. Even when I hated you. Even when I tried not to. I kept reaching for you in ways I didn’t even realize. And I’m so tired of pretending I haven’t been bleeding from the space where you used to be.” She looked at Azzi then. Open. Unflinching. A little undone. “I think I’ve always belonged to you. Even when I didn’t know what to do with that.”

Azzi reached out, hand trembling, and took Paige's in her own.

“Are we too late?”

Paige swallowed, hard.

“I don’t know.”

And that was the truth. She didn’t know.  Didn’t know if you could put something back together after it had cracked down the middle. If love was strong enough to hold all the broken parts. But God, she hoped so. Hoped like it was a prayer. Like it was the last thing keeping her standing.

Azzi’s voice came quiet. Steady in that way people get when they’re trying not to fall apart.

“I get it,” she said. “I do. And maybe we can’t fix all of it. Maybe some of it stays cracked.” She looked at Paige. “But I miss my best friend. And if that’s all I get back, I’ll take it.”

Paige shook her head, sudden and sharp, like she was trying to dislodge the ache. A sob caught in her throat and Azzi froze.

“P?” she whispered. 

Paige dropped her gaze to the floor, eyes burning. 

“Say something,” Azzi said again, barely breathing now.

And Paige—God, Paige folded. Not all at once. Not like the stories. Just slightly. Just enough.

Her shoulders fell. Her chin dipped. Her mouth parted like she might finally let it all spill—every how dare you and don’t leave again tangled together.

But what came out was softer than she meant.  More honest than she wanted.

“I can’t be your friend, Azzi,” She muttered and watched the girl flinch. “Because I don’t know how to be near you without wanting everything.”

Azzi’s POV

Azzi didn’t move at first. Couldn’t.

Paige’s words hung between them—so quiet, so devastatingly true—and Azzi felt them like a bruise blooming under her ribs. Slow. Spreading.

I don’t know how to be near you without wanting everything.

God.

It was everything Azzi had been too scared to say, handed back to her in Paige’s cracked-open voice. And suddenly, the silence wasn’t heavy—it was sacred. Like if she said the wrong thing now, the moment would vanish. Like Paige might.

Azzi blinked hard. Her hand was still in Paige's, her thumb brushing lightly against the skin she used to know better than her own. She could feel the tension in Paige's grip, the way she was holding herself together with splinters and string. And still—still—letting Azzi in.

“I don’t want halfway either,” Azzi said softly. Her voice felt like it was made of glass. “I never did.”

She stepped closer. Inches. Careful.

“I just didn’t know how to give you all of me when I didn’t believe I was enough. So I gave you distance instead. I gave you silence. I gave you nothing, because it felt safer than watching you realize you didn’t need me.”

Paige looked up at that, really looked, and Azzi’s breath caught.

“I was wrong,” Azzi whispered. “About so many things.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The gym felt still, like it was listening. Azzi let the silence stretch. Not because she was afraid, but because she needed to get it right. Needed Paige to feel it.

“I thought I had to leave first. That if I didn’t, you would. That you’d outgrow me and I’d be the only one surprised.”

Paige’s throat moved, like she was swallowing glass. Her voice cracked when she finally said, “You were always the one I stayed for.”

Azzi’s chest caved. “Then why didn’t you say something?”

Not a fair question. But desperation didn't always leave room for fairness.

“I tried,” Paige said, tears sliding down her cheeks . “But maybe not in the way you needed. I thought showing up meant enough. I thought staying close meant you’d feel it. But you didn’t. And when you left, I—”

She broke off, pressing the heel of her hand to her eyes. “I got so angry. I said things I didn’t mean. I wanted to hurt you because I felt like you’d thrown me away.”

“I deserved it.”

“Maybe” Paige choked. “But I’m still sorry. God, I’m so sorry, Azzi. I was cruel. I was wrecked and angry and hating you was so much easier than missing you.”

Azzi blinked through the burn in her eyes. She wanted to say it’s okay, wanted to reach out and quiet the shaking in Paige’s shoulders. But that would’ve been a lie. It wasn’t okay. It never had been.

So instead, she stepped forward. Just enough that their shoes almost touched.

“I wasn’t ready for how much it hurt,” she whispered. “You, pretending like I never existed. Like we hadn’t been everything.”

Paige looked up, and Azzi could see it now. How hollow she’d been too. How much she’d lost.

“I wasn’t pretending,” Paige said. “I was surviving.”

Azzi nodded. “I know that now. But back then? I kept waiting for for some sign that I still mattered. And when it didn’t come, I thought maybe I’d made it all up. Maybe I was the only one who felt like it meant something.”

“No,” Paige said, too fast. Too certain. “God, no. You were it. You’ve always been it.”

Her voice cracked again. She wasn’t crying loudly, just quiet tears, slow and awful, like the kind you don’t even notice until your throat is raw.

“I would’ve burned everything down for you, Azzi,” Paige said. “And I didn’t know how to admit that without losing the pieces I’d just started to rebuild.”

Azzi’s heart ached. She stepped even closer, gently reaching for Paige’s wrist. Just held it there, between them. A fragile offering. A truce.

“We can’t fix it all tonight,” she said, voice thick. “But I’m still here. And I want to try.”

Paige looked at her, and for a moment, neither of them breathed.

Then, almost inaudibly, Paige asked, “Do you still love me?”

Azzi didn’t hesitate. “I never stopped.” 

Paige exhaled, but it didn’t ease anything. Her shoulders were tense, jaw tight, like the words were physically clawing their way out.

“I think I’ve loved you since we were sixteen.”

Azzi froze. Her breath caught, lodged somewhere in her throat but Paige didn’t let her speak.

“And I don’t mean it the way people romanticize first love. I mean it like—God must’ve built me with your name already in my mouth. Like I came into this world already looking for you.”

She laughed, but it broke halfway through. “Every version of me was molded by you. The way I played, the way I walked into rooms, the way I wanted to be seen, it all traced back to you. Every time I made a shot, every time I said something stupid just to make you laugh, I was trying to earn it. Trying to earn you. I wanted you to look at me and know. Know that I was yours.”

Azzi felt her knees buckle slightly, like the floor tilted beneath her. 

“And then I lost you,” she whispered. “And everyone said it wasn’t the end of the world. That people survive breakups. That I’d move on. But the truth is…nothing ever felt right again. Not the wins. Not the noise. Not the quiet that came after. It all felt slightly off, out of tune.”

Azzi’s eyes were glassy. Paige’s weren’t much better.

“I tried to forget you,” Paige said, and Azzi swore she felt the words in her ribs. “I really did. Some nights, I hated you,” she continued, quieter now. “Other nights, I couldn’t stop loving you. I begged God to take the feeling away. Prayed to just wake up and not need you anymore. But it never happened.”

Azzi stood frozen, heart pounding, throat burning. Paige was unraveling and steady all at once, like she’d been holding this in so long it had calcified into truth.

“I wanted to be over it. I needed to be over it,” Paige said. “But I never was.”

She laughed once—soft and almost bitter, like the joke was on her.

“It never let me go. Not the missing. Not the wanting. Not the ache.” She met Azzi’s eyes then. It was real. Raw. “You’ve always been the part I couldn’t unlove.”

Azzi’s breath caught. Her body stayed rooted, but something in her broke open—wide, aching, real.

She should’ve said something. Anything. But words felt too small for what was happening. For Paige, standing there, cracked down the middle and still offering her the truth.

So Azzi stepped forward. Just a little. Just enough.

“I never asked God to take it away,” she whispered. “Because I knew He wouldn’t.”

Paige blinked.

“I knew the way I loved you wasn’t something I could undo. It was too… much. Too everywhere. You were in everything. Every win, every loss, every time I looked at the clock and wished you were there.”

Her throat closed around the next words, but she forced them out anyway. “I didn’t stop loving you, Paige. I just got really good at pretending I had.”

She reached up, fingertips barely grazing the edge of Paige’s sleeve. A question, a plea, a map back to something they used to know by heart.

“I want it back,” Azzi said. “Not just the love. The everything. The friendship. The way we used to laugh until it hurt. The way you looked at me like I was something you chose every day.”

A beat.

“I want to come home.”

The words came out cracked, trembling. Like they’d been sitting in her chest for years, waiting for permission. 

Her hands lifted and she cradled Paige’s face like it was the only thing tethering her to the earth. Her thumbs brushed away tears Paige wasn’t hiding, her own falling just as fast, just as steady.

“Please,” Azzi whispered, voice splintering. “Can I come home?”

She knew this didn’t fix everything. There would still be hard conversations. Still bruises they’d have to press on, old wounds that might sting when reopened. But this–this choosing, this reaching—was the start.

And Azzi would do it a thousand times over if it meant she got to stay. Because not everything was perfect. Not yet. But it was worth it. Paige Bueckers was worth it. Always had been. 

For a second, Paige didn’t move. Just looked at her, like she was trying to memorize the shape of the moment. The weight of it. And then—slowly, fiercely—she pulled Azzi in. No hesitation. No space left between them.

Azzi folded, melted, unraveled in her arms. Buried herself in the place she’d been aching to return to. Not a city. Not a court. But this. Paige. This breathless, breakable belonging.

And somewhere deep in her chest, a voice rose up like a song she’d forgotten how to sing:

Home.

[thebloodofages]

YES! FUCKING THANK YOU! All the characters, but especially Vergil have *gasp!* PERSONALITIES. His character is well written, quite frankly SPOT ON and I'm convinced that people say "tHiS iSnT hIM" are vacuous fuck heads who can't understand nuance.

Finally, a person who actually has a brain (let's face it, many DMC fans do not).

Vergil is a deeply emotional character, and I'm not just saying it because I've been living in his brain for the last month or so 24/7 because of the first person fic I have been writing from his perspective.

I mean, my flavor of autism is the kind where I connect rather deeply with fictional characters because to me they're like any other person in my life, but you have to be daft if you think he goes no deeper than "hurrr durrr POWER."

His fucking mother was attacked by an army of demons that raided their fucking HOME for fuck's sake. He was eight goddamn years old. He set out on the path he did because he couldn't protect his family and carries that pain with him everywhere he goes because he didn't have anyone tell him it is okay to be vulnerable because you were a literal fucking baby.

His rivalry with Dante is based on his childhood. Granted, we only get snippets of that, but the way I see it, Dante was his first bully.

But again they were kids. Both of them literally had to grow up immediately just so they could survive. Dante chooses unconditional love, Vergil chooses vengeance.

Fuck, both of them are way more multifaceted than any fucking r*tard dude dudebro will ever understand because they don't actually care about the characters.

Like yes? Dante and Vergil are THE OG aura farmers. They are confident in their strengths and talents and they fucking know it and they know they look absolutely stunning in everything they do but at the end of the day they are both two horrendously broken men and it takes way less than half a brain to see it something so obvious.

So as far as Punishing Gray Raven is concerned? They absolutely NAILED these characters and I do NOT say that lightly. The writers knew exactly what they were doing.

Not to mention Dan Southworth and Reuben Langdon absolutely would never have agreed to do these voice lines if they even suspected any ounce of disrespect. Vergil and Dante are special to them and it absolutely shows and I thank them so much for allowing the characters to be expanded in the way they always deserved.

Not whatever ego trip Adi Shankar went on to undermine these characters.

No, I do not hate the Netflix series, but DMC has ALWAYS been about two broken men finding out who they are as they navigate their deeply traumatic experiences but alsobring the absolute best so they can protect the ones they love. Not America raiding hell so yeah while I don't hate the show either, he definitely missed the fucking point.

It's obvious the writers at PGR actually love Devil May Cry.

Anyways, sorry for the tangent. These devil boys have been a huge part of my personality for 24 years and I'm proud of that. They are some of my favorite characters and I absolutely will stand up for them because they've been there for me during so many hard times.

the people who think vergil is some emotionless chad who exists purely to ‘aura farm’ or whatever the fuck actually piss me off i cannot STAND that side of the dmc fandom.

another rant nobody but me cares about but lorddd i gotta type this out somewhere. also wanna preface this by saying it’s about pgr vergil, but also just vergil in general, and directed at the people i mentioned above.

firstly — no it’s not ‘out of character’ for vergil to show vulnerability or emotion, he is a deeply emotional person. he feels deeply, he sees the world deeply, and he hurts so deeply that his motivation centred around being able to prevent himself from being harmed any more. he just isn’t (wasn’t) good at expressing that without violence pre-dmc5.

punishing grey raven did a really great job of capturing his post-dmc5 maturity, and it’s cohesive with the additional information we got in Visions of V regarding vergil’s inner thoughts. we simple haven’t seen enough of vergil outside of battle to be able to fully grasp how he’d act when he is free of chasing an ultimate goal, and is in a domestic, (mostly) relaxed situation.

it’s the people who’ve played approximately 5 hours total of ONLY dmc5, who then see clips of vergil in pgr that act all disgusted and get offended that vergil is actually capable of emotion and/or affection, who are the problem. they’re why vergil has been memed so much that people genuinely, honest to god(s) believe that he hates dante, he hates nero, and never cared at all. he gave nero his HEART, his book that he sees as an integral part of himself. the symbolism of him stating he wanted to be loved and protected, and then giving his ‘heart’ to be safeguarded by nero is so poetic (pun intended)!!! he literally trusts his son — after being with him while he was V, and fighting him as vergil at the qliphoth — to protect him.

vergil is capable of trusting, he is capable of affection, and he wants to be able to. it is in fact NOT out of character for him to express that (even if he sucks at doing so and is generally horrifically awkward about it. love the guy).

now don’t get me wrong — vergil is not a good person, and i’m not implying he is. he isn’t benevolent or kind or selfless, and he struggles (falls flat) at being empathetic to people he sees as more fortunate than him (such as dante, who he resented for being ‘better off’), but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of experiencing varying degrees of love. for god’s sake, bury the light literally describes him as having ‘secret love, bloodline yearns.’ vergil is the pinnacle, the definition of emotionally constipated.

he was a total shithead and a real prick in dmc3. he was also a total shithead and a real prick in dmc5 (i mean that affectionately. but don’t get me started on urizen LOL) but he is as childish as dante is. he banters and holds silly grudges and competes with his brother like a teenager with something to prove. he calls dante an idiot for still saying ‘jackpot’ and then turns around and says it himself, because he secretly loves to.

and holy fuck that was a LOT longer than i intended this rant to be and i should be studying for my EngLang exam but oh well!!! shoutout to whoever reads this entire block of drivel.

ok bye :3

[robbysreaders]

In love with your jack series can we have a hint of what might of happened to cause them to break up ?

This literally made me so sad i need to follow up with a fluffier moment tonight but it was fun to write, thank you for asking!!!!!

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader  word count: 800ish notes: prequel of ex!reader and babydaddy!jack also yes i did steal another scene from ER so SUE ME

It was never one big thing. It was the slow build — compounding fractures on both sides that never quite healed.

Jack wasn’t the one to suggest space. You were. He would’ve let it spiral into a blowout or let his guilt fester into something ugly. But you knew you both deserved better than that.

You’d been dating for six months when you realized you were late. He was on a tangent about work, barely coming up for air.

“These budget cuts are bullshit. We don’t have enough nurses upstairs, the boarders are piling up, and it makes everything ten times harder—”

“Jack,” you whisper, “How early can you get a pregnancy result from a blood test?”

“Seven days. Did I tell you what Robby said Gloria said?”

“Several times.”

He blinked. “Wait. Did you just say… pregnancy? You think you're pregnant? But—we’ve been really careful.”

“I know.”

“Did you miss your period?”

“Three days.”

“Okay. Okay. That could be stress. We’ll figure it out.”

It wasn’t stress.

A month later, you moved in.

One night, as you were getting ready for bed, Jack leaned in the doorway, “Will you marry me?”

You sat on the edge of the bed, towel-wrapped and exhausted. “No, Jack. We haven’t even known each other a year.”

“I’d marry you tomorrow,” he said softly. “Any day. I want to make this work. I love you. I love him.” His hand settled on your belly like a promise.

“I know you do. But I don’t need grand declarations. I need the little things.”

And Jack... Jack has never been good at the little things.

Sure, he never missed a doctor’s appointment. But he also ran to the hospital on his days off, stress trailing behind him like smoke. He brought work home and snapped, even when he didn’t mean to.

He was on rotation when your water broke. Of course, he wasn’t answering his phone. You called an Uber to get to the hospital alone.

He saw your texts and rushed to L&D just in time. Everything turned out okay. Except it didn’t feel okay. It felt like the beginning of an ending.

Jack was a devoted father. An incredible one, even. But he was a distracted partner. And you couldn’t blame him, not entirely. Postpartum knocked you sideways. You didn’t feel like yourself anymore. And the truth was, you both were just going through the motions — two tired adults playing house around a beautiful, babbling baby.

Beau was just over a year when it truly cracked.

You were walking through the park, leaves crunching underfoot, Beau kicking his legs in the stroller.

“Jack,” you said carefully, “are you happy?”

He didn’t hesitate. “I’m good. I’m good.”

“I think you should talk to someone. Therapy’s helped me more than I expected—”

“I said I’m good,” he cut in. “I’m just tired. The baby. Work. It’ll get better.”

You stopped walking. “Jack. I don’t think this will work if we keep going like this. I think I need a break. I’m going to take Beau to my parents’ for a week.”

He blinked. “I can’t really take time off that short notice—”

“I wasn’t inviting you,” you said.

--

Back at the house, you packed. Enough for you and Beau for a week. Jack held him while pacing the room, in and out like he couldn’t decide whether to stay or bolt.

Finally, you said, “Jack. Just say what you want to say.”

He stopped. Face flat, eyes hollow. Something at the edge of his lips — then he straightened.

“Yeah, um... just let me know what I can do to help.”

The next morning, you left.

Jack called off work for the first time in his career. Claimed he caught Beau’s flu. Robby knew better — especially when he showed up at Jack’s and saw your car gone, the house quiet, Jack hungover on the couch.

It didn’t take long for Robby to coax it out.

“This doesn’t have to be the end,” Robby said, flipping a beer cap off with ease. “She’s giving you space. That’s a gift. Don’t waste it.”

“She’s sick of the big declarations,” Jack mumbled. “Sick of me being all show and no change.”

“As she should be. You want her back, you rebuild the foundation. You follow her lead. Think about what she’s asked for. Start there.”

The next morning, Jack called.

He asked how you and Beau were doing. Asked if your parents hated him now.

“They could never hate you,” you said quietly. “I wouldn’t let them.”

“So, when you get back… maybe we talk? I need to have Beau in my life, and I’ll take whatever part of you I’m allowed. But you’re unhappy, and I can’t be the reason why. I’ll take your lead. If you want lawyers, I’ll pay for both of us to get them. Whatever you need.”

You were silent for a moment, heart cracking a little.

“Yeah, Jack. Let’s talk when I’m back.”

[lazysoulwriter]

I got you, baby - pedro pascal ── .✦

requested! thank you. ♡ content: Pedro x reader, reader drinks a little too much, soft caretaking, giggly and clingy energy, pure comfort, lots of love and fluff.

---

You didn’t mean to get drunk.

You really didn’t.

It was just supposed to be one glass of wine. Maybe two. But the drinks were strong, the music was good, and your friends kept topping off your glass like you were hosting the Oscars instead of sitting on someone’s couch in a slightly-too-fancy dress.

By the time Pedro arrived to pick you up, you were a giggling mess with your head on your best friend’s shoulder, waving at him like he’d just walked in from a six-month war deployment.

“There he isssss,” you grinned, eyes glassy. “That’s my man. He’s sooo handsome. Look at his FACE.”

Pedro crouched down in front of you, brows lifted in amused concern. “How much did you drink, cariño?”

You reached out dramatically and cupped his face like it was made of gold. “Not enough. You’re still blurry.”

He laughed. “Okay. Time to get you home.”

---

You clung to his arm all the way to the car, leaning your head on his shoulder while he buckled your seatbelt.

“You’re so strong,” you mumbled into his jacket.

“I carry groceries in one trip,” he said solemnly, starting the engine. “That’s how you know I’m serious.”

You giggled and grabbed his hand, playing with his fingers. “You’re gonna take care of me, right?”

“Always.”

---

Back at home, he helped you out of your shoes, wrapped you in his hoodie, and sat you on the couch while he got you a glass of water and some crackers.

You immediately flopped sideways, blinking up at him like a sleepy cat. “I’m not even that drunk.”

“You tried to kiss the coat rack on the way in.”

“It was tall. I thought it was you.”

Pedro chuckled, sitting beside you and brushing your hair from your face. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You poked his chest. “You’re cute. I love you.”

His hand stilled.

You blinked. “Did I say that out loud?”

He smiled — slow, soft, heart-so-full-it-might-burst. “Yeah. You did.”

You buried your face in his hoodie. “Oops.”

He kissed your hair. “I love you too.”

---

That night, he tucked you in, kissed your forehead, and whispered, “Still cute when you’re tipsy.”

You cracked one eye open and whispered back, “Still strong?”

“The strongest.”

You smiled.

And then you fell asleep with his hoodie on, his arms around you, and his heart completely and entirely yours.

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

---

taglist: @sarahhxx03 @lloydmustache @lolareadsimagines @greenwitchfromthewoods @silksepia @pascalswiftie @itstokyo-cos @mani-pedro @llsister @authorbriannarae13 @introvrtedjellyfish @aj0elap0l0gist @spencercmlover @cixrosie @cherrqbaby @cup-half-full-of-anxiety @kellyxo1 @freakbobcult @sunlightpleasure @barnes70stark @mooniscrying @ohnaurshayla @croissantbakerylws @nellispunk @kasienka @taylorswiftsrep-blog @emerencedaily @byzyz @noovaarq @kristend512 @alltounwell @libbyaller @beaagiannelli @broad-shouldrs @oceanmcu @kysosa @melloispunk @jollycupcakeblizzard @angvlicsoulll @needz1nk @daddypascal17 @agustdpeach @mrsbilicablog @k4t13ispunk

[the-shedevil-writes]

Country Girl (Shake It For Me) (Bob Floyd x Reader)

PAIRING: Bob Floyd x Reader DESCRIPTION: After admitting to everyone that you wanted to learn how to country line dance, Hangman decides to help teach you. When the Dagger Squad goes to a local country bar to show off your newfound moves, your timid but supportive boyfriend, Bob Floyd, gets a hell of a show. WORD COUNT: 3.8k WARNINGS: Swearing, Suggestive but no smut, Cowboy hat rule, Sexy dancing hehe NOTES: I've never written Y/N or reader fanfic before so this is a first attempt. (I just used a name and then edited after). MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!

It all started that night at The Hard Deck. A few months after the uranium mine strike, the Dagger Squad, now including honorary Dagger Y/N, sat around a beach campfire outside the bar. The night sky was filled with stars that blanketed over the group. And the cool North Island sea breeze ran straight through them, but that’s what the fire was for. 

She listened with genuine interest. They were on the subject of bucket lists, and she observed as they went around sharing ideas. She adjusted in her uncomfortable lawn chair and stretched a little, capturing the attention of her boyfriend, Bob Floyd. 

“You okay? Wanna switch chairs?” He asked, always so attentive. He was sitting in a sturdier wooden chair that didn’t slip in the sand as much as hers did. And of course, he noticed. Bob noticed everything that would appear so insignificant to anybody else. Every minor detail. That’s probably what made him a great WSO. He could take note of multiple screens and all the differing information needed for the jet to operate. 

They’d been dating for over four months now, and she felt like she was truly and properly falling in love with this man. She hadn’t wanted to rush things… but with a man like that? It was hard not to.

She shook her head. “No, I’m alright. Thank you, though.” She said, smiling, as she reached out and squeezed his hand.

“Oh. I’d love to hike a bunch of the famous mountains. Everest. Fuji. Rainier.” Rooster explained.

“Do you know how much training you gotta go through to do Everest?” Phoenix asked with raised brows, looking skeptical. Then she busted out into a grin. “I do. Took me a year of training.” She took a sip of her beer and made an L with her other hand.

Rooster rolled his eyes. “Okay, stay humble.”

“I wanna travel across South America-” Hangman said.

“Because they have the best chicks there.” Fanboy finished.

“Look, I wasn’t gonna say-” The blonde responded with a shit-eating grin, raising his hands. “But bingo.”

Phoenix and Rooster rolled their eyes. 

She and Hangman had had a rocky start to their friendship. She had despised him at first. He was cocky, arrogant and every other synonym for annoying. She couldn’t stand his flirts and quips… Especially knowing that he left Bob and Phoenix in the dust, beginning of training. But then she got to know him. And when you actually became his friend, he’d slowly let down the facade. Yeah, he was still a smug son of a bitch. But he becomes fun, caring, and as much as he’d protest, selfless. 

“How ‘bout you, Bob?” Rooster asked, switching the conversation. 

She was leaned over the arm of his chair. She looked up at him, wondering what his answer was. He looked down at her, smiled softly, then looked up at the rest.

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess I just wanna have that American dream, you know? With the house and- and the kids, and the dog.” He stammered through the middle part, clearly trying to brush over the obvious. It was way too early in their relationship to have a serious conversation about it. But it made her heart flutter anyway.

“Isn’t that everybody’s goal, though? Does that count?” Payback asked

Hangman scoffed, “Sure ain’t mine.” He said, sipping his beer. 

Phoenix’s eyes squinted at Y/N, observing her. “You’ve been awfully quiet over there. What’s on your bucket list?”

A blush immediately covered her face. She smiled bashfully and kicked her feet into the sand. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid.” 

Hangman leaned in, “Well, now you have to tell us.”

“But all of your guys’ goals were so cool! I’m gonna look dumb.”

Bob squeezed her hand, “You won’t look dumb.” He reassured.

Rooster put his hands up. “Hey, Phoenix has been making me look dumb all night, so if anything, you’ll at least be above me.” 

“See, you’re right, Rooster. You do look dumb.” Phoenix quipped. He looked around like he had just been shot. She nodded reassuringly,  “Come on, just tell us.”

She sighed, and a pursed smile came up as she glanced away, embarrassed. “I-I wanna country line dance.” She admitted in a small voice.

There was a small silence before a few laughs finally sputtered out. She covered her blushing face. “Don’t laugh at me!” She squealed, though she was also laughing.

Hangman’s head had perked up at her answer, “But didn’t you say you’re from Alabama?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, but I was never really in that crowd. Like, I never went to the rodeos or the country bars. Hell, I was outta there by eighteen.” 

There was a short stillness as people thought about what to say, but Hangman looked her dead in the eye. “Let’s do it.” 

Her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You’re looking at a red-blooded Texan. Let’s do it. I’ll teach you to line dance.” Hangman said, which made Rooster laugh. “What’s so funny?”

Rooster, coming down from his initial cackle, sighed, “Nothing. Nothing. Just the image of you in a little cowboy hat and holster flashed in my mind-” He broke again, which made everybody else burst out laughing. 

She looked at him and smiled. “Okay, Seresin. Let’s check it off my bucket list.”

She and Hangman started practicing before nights at The Hard Deck. She felt awkward and clumsy, but he was a decent teacher. It was clear he had done this before and had a couple of dances still memorized. 

She picked up the steps by themselves pretty easily. When Bob would stay over at her house, he’d come and find her doing a grape vine in the kitchen. Or trying to do a triple step when she had a moment alone. He found it cute, and he’d try not to startle her. Because the second she saw him, she’d stop, feeling embarrassed. The problem was combining them all and remembering how they went, which she found difficult. 

One night, she laid on the couch with Bob. Well, she laid practically and completely on top of him. Her chin sat on the top of her hands while they rested on his chest. So when he spoke, the vibrations would send up her face. He craned his neck down to look at her.

“So, when do I get to see these dance moves, huh?” He asked gently, reaching up and brushing some stray hairs out of her face.

“Hangman and I are planning an outing where we all go check out this country bar downtown.” She said with a hint of excitement in her voice.

Then she suddenly remembered. “OH!” Her eyes widened, and she hopped off of him. He sighed, missing the comforting weight of her body.

“What’s up?” He called out, sitting up, looking around for her. 

“I told my mama about the line dancing and…” She echoed from her bedroom.

After a second, she stepped out in a pair of brown cowboy boots and an alabaster cowboy hat. It looked… a little ridiculous paired with her pajama shorts and tank top. But the smile that grew on Bob’s face was genuine. “Ta da! She sent me these.”

He chuckled. “Well, look at you.” 

“They’re my old ones from high school.” She gestured to the boots. “I’m surprised they still fit and aren’t falling to pieces, honestly.”

Bob got off the couch and walked over to her. He wrapped his arms around her lower back and then gently lifted the lid of her cowboy hat. “You know, I’ve never met a real-life cowgirl before.” He said with a lilt in his tone.

“That’s right, Lemoore.” She teased, knowing he grew up in California. “I’m having so much fun. Reminds me of home.” 

They both knew that she had been homesick lately. It was just part of the work they both did. Being a pilot and being a medic, hopping from place to place was normal. But she had been in a lot of rural states so far. San Diego felt like her first real city, and it was so different from the small town smack dab in the middle of Alabama. They felt like polar opposites. 

“That’s good,” Bob said, his voice gentle. “I’m glad.” He rested his hand on the side of her face and brushed his thumb against her cheek.

It would be a lie to say that Bob wasn’t slightly nervous about her taking dancing lessons from Hangman of all people. He was cool and suave… though granted, also an asshole. But at the end of the day, he trusted her. He knew that she’d always come back home to him, excited to cling to him while watching a movie. (Inevitably always falling asleep in his lap).  Plus, Jake had left all that flirting behind once they came out about their relationship. So really, he had nothing to worry about.

It was just the comparisons in his brain that got to him sometimes. Why would she choose him? Out of all his objectively ripped and smooth squad buddies, why him? Bob with the Navy prescriptive glasses, and an utter lack of romantic experience at 30.

But then she kissed him, breaking him out of his thoughts. His mind always emptied when she did that. It was like he’d short-circuit, and all the logic in his brain would go out the door. There was no way to think when all he could smell was her mango shampoo, and all he could taste was her cherry chapstick.

“You sleeping over tonight?” She asked, looking up at him, cowboy hat still on.

He nodded, anxieties gone. “I’d like that.” He said breathlessly.

The next week passed, and finally, the group walked up to Brass & Boots, a country bar not too far from the base. It was a smaller group today. Just Rooster, Hangman, Phoenix, Bob, and of course Y/N, who was practically jumping with excitement as she held Bob’s hand. She was wearing a small gingham top with a pair of boot-cut jeans that hugged her curves just right. Of course, with the white cowboy hat and the boots her mother sent. 

Bob was already having a hard time not staring at those jeans. He was used to seeing her in loose denim shorts or scrubs. The pants fit her like a second skin, and if he looked at them too long, his heart would literally stop.

“You excited to check something off your bucket list?” Rooster asked

She nodded with a big smile. “Incredibly so.”

“You guys won’t wanna miss it.” Jake said with a smirk, “She’s good.” 

“Figured that as much. We all see her dancing circles around us at Hard Deck already.” Phoenix added, making her blush. 

As they walked up the wooden steps of the place, they took in the atmosphere. It was definitely country-inspired. The building itself was dark-stained wood, giving it a cabin-like look. A few benches sat on the porch outside, and trinkets and tchotchkes lined the walls. The sound of a slow classic country song boomed from a speaker inside. 

“So uh- how does this all work?” Bob asked curiously before they stepped inside. 

Hangman turned to look at him. “Well, it’s just like Hard Deck. Only the dance floor is for people who are learning the dance or already know it. But it’s not like you guys are very eager to dance at Hard Deck anyway.”

Bob nodded. Y/N and sometimes Rooster were the only people to dance at Hard Deck. Usually, Bob would join her, but he also spent a lot of his time with the squadron playing pool on the sidelines. 

It seemed like he’d just be watching tonight. But he didn’t mind- watching her dance was one of his favorite things to do. So the prospect of the night already sounded fantastic.

They walked into the bar, and it wasn’t too crowded. A country dive bar in the city wasn’t going to be. Her eyes lit up, taking in the scenery. Even though her upbringing wasn’t on a ranch or a shooting range, she took comfort in seeing the rustic decor. A wagon wheel hung above near the bar, holding lights. The Texas flag hung right next to the California one, and the whole inner walls had state license plates stuck in rows. Neon signs of cowboys and bulls lit the dance floor, which had a few older people dancing. This was just what she needed to be reminded of home. 

The group all found a table close enough to the dance floor and the bar, so both were within reach. Right as they were all sitting down, the familiar guitar strums of Any Man of Mine by Shania Twain played. Hangman and Y/N froze and looked at each other with growing smiles. 

Hangman stood back up and looked down at the group. “First dance of the night, ya’ll ready?” He asked, not even waiting for an answer before heading to the dance floor with Y/N following. 

It was the first dance that Jake had taught her. It was simple enough, slow enough, and she loved the song. That was a big proponent. 

As the verse finally started, they started the steps. Jake was… way too good at this. Rooster, Phoenix, and Bob watched with wide eyes.

“You’re telling me that Hangman could dance this whole time?” Phoenix asked

“Well, I don’t think he’s exactly in the mood to look this dorky at Hard Deck.” Roosted chuckled.

But Bob wasn’t even focused on Jake. He watched as his girlfriend followed the steps, sometimes looking at Hangman for reminders. But as the chorus started to hit, she looked over at Bob with an excited smile that melted his heart. She was so cute, and honestly, outdancing most of the older people in the bar. The steps felt much more natural during the chorus. So she wasn’t just simply kicking, jumping, and moving her feet; she was adding energy and variation to how she did the moves. She gave more effort than the older men and women who surrounded her. Patrons around the squad watched the two, the newcomers who were blowing this out of the water. Her enthusiasm alone could’ve carried her through the performance. 

“WOOO!” Bob yelled out, clapping his hands. 

When she heard him over the music, she burst out laughing and fell behind slightly before catching up to Hangman next to her. 

As the song came to an end, Phoenix, Bob, and Rooster were the loudest cheerers. Jake and Y/N walked back a little out of breath.

“I’m requesting this song at Hard Deck next time,” Rooster said

“I’ll kill you,” Jake replied before holding his hand out for her to high-five him. “Bucket list item achieved.”

She high-fived him and ran over to tackle Bob in a hug. “What’d you think? Did I do good?” She asked, pulling away, revealing the big grin on her face.

“Better than good, baby. Jesus Christ.” He replied, laughing, shaking his head a little in disbelief. “You look like you’ve done this your whole life.” 

“Well, just you wait- there’s more.” She said with a mischievous smile on her face. 

Jake nodded, overhearing as he sipped his beer. “Oh yeah. Your girl’s a quick learner, Floyd. We learned a few.” 

And that they had. Throughout the night, anytime a song they had learned played, her and Hangman would immediately get up to run to the dance floor. Even if they were in the middle of talking, one of them would point to the ceiling and tilt their head with a smirk. 

What Bob felt best about was that anytime a guy would try to get too close to her, Jake would quickly spin and put himself between them on the floor. If you had told him a few months ago that he would be grateful for Jake Seresin, he wouldn’t have believed it. With her on the floor, of course, she captured almost every guy in the room’s attention. That anxiety in him picked up a little, but every time he’d see her twirl and look at him with a proud smile, it would calm down.

It reached a later point in the night, and they all sat around the table, drinking and laughing. Bob loved having Y/N sitting right next to him, happily singing along to the music she grew up with. 

“Hangman, where’d you learn how to do all this?” Phoenix asked curiously

He shrugged, “Mom made me learn growing up. Family events and gatherings. She even had me in lessons for a few years.”

“That explains it,” Rooster said, nodding. “It’s weird seeing you excel at something that isn’t pissing me off.” 

He shrugged again, then some notes on the electric guitar made Y/N’s head perk up. Bob noticed with a small smile.

“What? Another song from growing up?” He asked 

She leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Watch this one.” Before getting up and heading to the dance floor. 

He had technically watched every dance she did, but something about the way she said it piqued his curiosity. Jake’s eyes widened as he recognized the song and watched her walk over to the dance floor. 

“Guys, I have a feeling we’re gonna want a better view,” Jake said, getting up and leading everyone to stand by the bar. Bob’s brows furrowed, but he followed him. 

The intro of Country Girl (Shake It For Me) by Luke Bryan played. She stomped her feet to the beat, anticipating the dance.

“You’re not gonna join her in this one?” Phoenix asked, looking up at Hangman.

“Uhhhh. That’s gonna be a no.” He said ominously.

As the verse of the song started, it was already clear why. The dance was a lot more feminine as she started strutting down the dance floor, her hair flowing with her. It started out innocently enough, with a few heel kicks and stomps. She already had Bob’s full attention from just that. But then she started moving looser and swaying her hips, and all the blood rushed to Bob’s face. He couldn’t hide his stare as she leaned over, shaking her thighs. 

Rooster’s eyes widened in a protective anger. “Jake, you taught her this?!” He asked. 

The four of them just stared. Rooster worried. Jake surprised. Phoenix impressed. And Bob trying not to pass out. 

“No- I uh- I think she taught herself this one. Cause I definitely didn’t teach her how to do-” Jake started.

Just then, she just did what the song said to do. Shake it. The denim hugged her body, but it wasn’t stiff and let her move in tantalizing ways that they had never seen her do before. 

“That.” He said

 Her hips and ass moving like that? In those jeans? With her hair flowing, and her top that low cut? Bob was mesmerized. His jaw dropped slightly as his face glowed pink. He always found her sexy, don’t get him wrong, but he didn’t anticipate country line dancing night to be this life-changing. 

She took her hat off for a second and waved it in the air as she turned slowly, arching her back, adding a flare to the dance. And it wasn’t like the dance was incredibly slow and sensual. No, she was rocking her body to the fast beat. Which made this an intense experience for timid Bob. 

Bob swallowed- suddenly, the bar felt sweltering hot, and the collar of his T-shirt felt like it was choking him. The once loud and cheering Bob was reduced to a silent, bashful man who didn’t know what to do with himself. It was like he was seeing her for the first time again, but times that feeling by a million.

Rooster and Hangman looked over and stifled their laughs at Bob’s reaction. They didn’t want him to notice as Rooster sneakily pulled out his phone and hit record. At first, the camera was set on her as she danced to the chorus.

“Country girl, shake it for me, girl. Shake it for me, girl. Shake it for me.”

Then they panned to Bob, who swallowed nervously like a cartoon character. And that made Rooster and Hangman absolutely lose it, breaking Bob’s attention as he noticed the camera. He widened his eyes.

“GUYS!” He cried exasperated.

But Rooster and Hangman were holding onto each other, laughing. Bob returned his attention to his girlfriend with a little more self-consciousness. 

Even though she was putting on the performance of a lifetime, it was clear she was having fun. To Bob, she outshone all the girls there, but she was also talking and laughing with a few of the other girls next to her as they danced in sync. She was having so much fun, and he was glad to see her so happy.

She ended the song on a spin and clapped with all the other girls on the dance floor. Then she ran over to Bob, just like she had done after all the other dances. 

“So, did you like it?” She asked, out of breath, with her hands on her hips.

Bob didn’t even know what to say. 

“Where’d you learn that one?” Jake asked, completely shocked.

“Online!” She said chipper. She looked at Bob’s starstruck expression and giggled. “You okay, baby?” 

He nodded with wide eyes, then dragged his hands down his face. “Y-yeah-yeah- Just… wow. Just wow.” He stammered.

“I think he’s more than okay.” Rooster chuckled, moving to order a drink at the bar with Phoenix. 

She moved in closer, proud of herself for making Bob this much of a mess. She put one arm on his shoulder, then took off her hat, and placed it on his head.

“Uh, Y/N-” Hangman started, “You do know about the-”

“The cowboy hat rule? Yes. Yes, I do.” She nodded proudly, not taking her eyes off Bob. God, he looked really good in that hat. It fit his face perfectly, and she was starting to get closer to how Bob was feeling just from that. 

Hangman shook his head with a smirk. “Good luck, buddy.” He huffed, patting Bob’s back and walking towards the rest of their group.

He looked around confused. So much was going on while his whole body felt like it had been lit on fire. 

“Cowboy hat rule? What’s the cowboy hat rule?” He asked, confused.

“Well…” She said, “If you put a hat on someone else, it means you want to go home with them.” She said, then leaned in and whispered in his ear, “You know, save a horse ride a cowgirl?” 

The surprise on Bob’s face was comical. He nodded quickly, “Yeah, I think I like that rule.” He said, making her laugh.

“You’re so cute.” She teased before leaning in and kissing him in front of everybody there. 

Bob’s anxieties were completely buried. He felt a newfound confidence that the hottest woman in the bar had claimed him as hers. He wrapped his arms around her and didn’t have a care in the world. Screw all the other guys. She chose him. 

[munsonsmixtapes]

I’m Right Here

ex-husband!ghost x pregnant!reader

You meet your ex-husband, Simon for coffee to give him some very life-altering news.

cw: hurt/no comfort

You sit at a table in a crowded coffee shop, constantly wringing your hands as you stare at the mug of tea in front of you that’s surely cold by now. You can’t drink it, not now. You’re too nervous. You feel like you could throw up because of how anxious you are, but you choke it down, trying your best to calm yourself down. You know that what you’re doing is right, but that doesn’t mean that you’re not terrified of doing it.

Simon enters the building and you feel the need to stand, awkwardly waving him over, feeling your heart beating even faster at how devastatingly handsome he still is. He’s let his facial hair grow out and now he’s got a mustache that makes him somehow even hotter.

As he spots you and waves, you immediately get the urge to run. You went over what you were going to say over and over on the way here but now that you finally see him, all of the words in the English language somehow fly out of your head and you’re left with nothing but panic and anxiety.

He approaches you with a wide smile and for a second, you’ve completely forgotten that you’re divorced. For a second, you forget that you haven’t seen him in over a month. It feels so right being together right now, like all that time away made you realize how badly you miss him.

“Hey,” he says, not tacking the words “baby” or “darling” on the end like he used to. You suppose it makes sense since you’re pretty much strangers now. “So, what did you want to meet about?”

“Maybe you should sit down for this,” you gesture towards the chair across from yours and he sits hesitantly, positive that he’s probably not going to like what you have to say.

“I guess I should just cut to the chase then,” you let out a sigh before looking him directly in the eye. “I’m pregnant.”

Everything goes still in that moment. The din of the coffee shop is no longer buzzing in his ears-it’s so quiet as his mind drowns out all the sounds happening around him.

Simon didn’t know what you were going to say but he definitely didn’t expect this. The shock quickly wears off and now he’s smiling so wide that his cheeks hurt. This is the best news he could possibly receive. Deep down, he always knew he was destined to be a dad.

He knows this will only make the divorce more difficult with the co-parenting, but part of him wishes that it would salvage your relationship. He wants so badly to be your husband again even though he’d never tell you so. He knows that you don’t feel the same.

He’s going to be a dad.

He’s going to be a dad.

This was certainly not on his bingo card when he signed the divorce papers, but he’s definitely not complaining. This is what he’s always wanted, just not like this. And he’s definitely not going to make you go through it alone. Pregnancy is already so difficult and on your own? Yeah, there’s no way in hell he’s letting that happen.

“I’m so happy for you, y/n! Congratulations! I’m-”

He’s about to say that he’s here for you, but he’s not, not really. Not since your mutual break up. Not since he moved out of your house. Not since-not since you decided that you didn’t need him anymore.

“You can decide how you want to do this. If you want to co-parent, that’s great, and if not, that’s fine too.” He can’t imagine not being in his child’s life. He wants to be there throughout the pregnancy, hold your hand throughout the birth, then be able to hold the baby in his arms afterwards.

“I’m here for you,” he replies, reaching for your hand and you give his a squeeze before pulling away. “For everything. Whatever you need, I got it.”

“That’s very sweet, Simon.” It feels weird saying that and hearing his real name is making him feel sick. He thought that maybe your reunion would make you want to give him another chance, but apparently not. “I appreciate it. The first ultrasound is next Thursday at noon if you want to meet me there.”

“Better yet, let me give you a ride.” Of course he’s going to be the sweet selfless man you met all those years ago even though you’ve put him through a lot of pain.

“What?” You don’t know why you’re so caught off guard by his suggestion. It doesn’t matter how messy your divorce was, if you came to him for anything, he’d give it to you no matter what. He’s still the man you married but you just…outgrew each other. But now that he’s sitting here, you’re wondering if that was ever the case. If you both made a huge mistake.

“I don’t want my pregnant wife driving-“ he cuts himself off, realizing what he’s just said and feels his cheeks getting warm. This is going to take some getting used to.

“Well,” you say, standing from the table. “I have to head to work. So you’re picking me up on Thursday morning? I can send you all the information. Do you still have my number?” As if he’d ever delete it. You’re making this whole thing sound like a business transaction, not a discussion about your unborn child. He guesses he’s still in love with you while you’ve completely moved on.

“I’ve still got it,” he nods, caught off guard by the way you’re behaving, like his some random stranger who you hooked up with one night and not the man who used to be your husband. He’d never tell you how badly it hurts.

“Alright, well, I’ll see you then, Simon.” You press a quick kiss to his cheek and then you’re off. Simon watches you head out of the coffee shop, wondering how the hell he’s going to survive any more of this.