#I don’t think it will come to anything though

[zevrra]

wildflowers;

synop: you and vik get caught “messing around” in the lab by jayce; who surprisingly wants to join in on the fun.

wc: 1.8k

includes: straight smut, p w/o p, fem!reader, jayce x reader x viktor, slight vöyeurism, oral (m receiving), slight dirty talk, threesome, bottom!viktor

extra: part 2 coming soon!! reblogs are appreciated <3

“don’t worry,” you whisper, fingers twirling along a red tie before smoothing down the front of viktor’s vest. “i sent jayce out on an errand run and he won’t be back for a little bit. just enjoy this v.” you add with a hum.

viktor looks up through his pretty lashes at you. he leans back against his desk, practically sits on top of it to keep weight off of his leg, as you two stand inside of the lab. he had been working far too hard recently and the only way you could keep him distracted long enough not to think about anything involving his work was to pleasure him. it was the same way trying to get him to sleep every once and awhile, when he would sneak into your room. you had never suggested doing it in the lab though…and the thought thrilled you just as much as it thrilled him; even if he thought it was a terrible idea.

“w-we shouldn’t. not here in the lab and what if—” viktor mumbles but his words end in a soft gasp as your fingers begin to untuck his shirt from his pants.

“viktor,” you chirp as you fall to your knees in front of him, unbuttoning the front of his pants and pulling them down ever so slightly. “you need to take a break. be a good boy and just relax.”

your fingers are just grabbing the hem of his underwear when the door to the lab is being thrown open and jayce’s large figure enters the room. “hey, i was looking for this thing you asked for but i—“ jayce had begun to speak, his eyes pointed down as he entered the room, before he finally looked up and caught the two of his friends in the act.

you freeze in your spot, eyes widening as you stare at jayce from the floor. a scarlet red blush is spreading across your face, you can feel the heat on your cheeks in an instant and you’re sure you match not only jayce’s shocked face but viktor’s as well; and you can’t even bring yourself to look up at him. you probably stay like that for a little longer than you should’ve until jayce clears his throat and you and viktor alike scramble from each other.

“we!” you start as you stand up straight and as quick as you possibly can. “wait it’s not what it looks like! we were uh just uhm—“ you ramble before looking at viktor to help dig both of you out of this hole. but he’s busied himself with trying to zip his pants back up, making it far more obvious if it hadn’t been already. you sigh, turning your face off to the side to stare at a small spot on the floor, unable to look jayce in the eye.

“do…you do this often?” jayce’s voice cuts through the built up silence in the room like a knife.

you shake your head quickly but viktor speaks up for you instead. “never in the lab.” he mutters.

“it’s unprofessional, we get it, let’s just drop it and forget this—“ you begin to add but the sound of the door closing with a lock interrupts your rambling. when you finally bring your gaze to jayce, his eyes are soft but clear in their intentions. and it was his turn to no longer be able to look at the two of you.

“can i…watch?” he whispers under his breath.

and with three little words, everything changes between all three of you.

now, jayce leans against the lab’s desk as viktor leans back against his chest. jay’s strong hands fully support viktor as you’ve returned to your spot in front of him. you had never in your life thought jayce might have been interested in whatever you and viktor had going on. maybe you just assumed he already had a lover and never brought it up again. but now his hazel eyes stare down at you, just as viktor’s amber eyes also watch you, both with a hunger to their eye. it almost made you nervous, being watched, but your fingers once again hook around viktor’s underwear and pull down, ignoring the jitters that hum under your skin.

your hand wraps around vik’s semi hard cock and you give it a soft tug, rubbing right up the shaft until the tip. there was a new feeling in the air around all 3 of you. breaths being held, eyes watching ever so closely, the slight tremble to your hand. it had been different when it was just the two of you enjoying midnight meetings but now with jayce there too…it felt far more scandalous and naughty.

“tell me what it feels like.” jayce whispers, purposely placing his chin into the crook of viktor’s neck, as his hands slowly run up along vik’s chest.

your own hand continues to move against viktor’s shaft, stroking him slowly up and down, moving to press your lips against his head.

“mmph, her fingers are a little cold,” viktor replies with a low groan. his chest rising and falling in quicker succession as he begins to get turned on. “but it feels good.” he adds. and his honesty makes you smile a little.

you move your hand faster in return to his praise. trailing your fingers along his head, pressing your thumb into the slit of his cöck, where he’s growing sensitive and causing him to gasp softly. you take the moment to lean forward and capture the head of his cock inside of your mouth. drinking in the sight of viktor’s eyes fluttering, his fingers tightening onto whatever he can grasp, as your mouth wraps around him.

“keep going viktor.” jayce instructs as you watch him place hot, heavy kisses against vik’s throat. one of his hands groping his thin chest and waist.

“w-warm! it’s so warm and wet,” vik breaks. he’s fully hard now as you suck on his head, making him whimper at the feeling. “feels—ah—really good.” he adds with a groan as his eyes return to watching you.

you can feel his thighs tighten as you swallow more of his cöck, continuing to use your hand to stroke up to your lips. you watch every expression that crosses viktor’s face along with jayce’s fingers that slowly begin to take off his vest. strips him of his vest and then works on unbuttoning his brown shirt underneath.

jayce keeps laying hot kisses along the back of his neck and on his throat, slumped over and threatening to swallow all of viktor’s thin frame.

the sight makes you somewhat giddy and excited to see what jayce does. but it never distracts you from making viktor feel good as well. sucking a little harder, spit bubbling up at the sides of your lips as you sink further down onto his lengthy shaft. your eyes are almost falling close to help you focus as you swallow more and more of him, but jayce’s voice catches your attention once again.

“she looks so pretty like that, doesn’t she, vik? makin’ you feel so good.” he whispers against just as pretty, pale skin. his words cause vik to stutter, hips lifting up and forcing you to swallow the rest of him. and you do so with ease.

you truly wouldn’t have guessed jayce was so good at dirty talk but you welcomed any surprises at this point. viktor simply whines in response, head hanging low, gaze still on you as you continue your routine of sucking him off.

jayce stands to his full height then, hanging over viktor just enough so he could turn his face and capture his lips. viktor’s eyes widen in response but he does nothing to stop jayce; no, instead he’s melting into the kiss. you watch with eager curiosity as their tongues clash together, jayce easily winning in the battle of dominance, as one big hand of his moves up to gently caress viktor’s throat.

fuck, was it hot watching them. you can feel your pussy throbbing at the sight just as you can feel yourself growing wet against your panties. you squeeze your thighs together, slipping a hand down below to press your fingers into your core. the best you can through the pants you wear for the moment but the pressure is enough to make you groan. you move your lips faster along viktor’s shaft, sucking harsher and sloppier to bring him closer to his end.

the change of pace and jayce’s tongue surely has viktor coming undone quicker than usual. for he breaks the kiss with a harsh whine. “i’m close!” vik gasps, tossing his head back onto jayce’s shoulder.

jayce presses a quick kiss against his jaw before his hazel eyes return to watch you suck viktor off. his eyes are hazy and full of lust as he fixes his intense stare on what you do; which makes you shiver with newfound pleasure under his sight. his strong gaze makes you press your fingers into your pussy once again, seeking any form of satisfaction you could get for the moment.

“look viktor,” jayce instructs as his hand smooths over viktor’s lower abdomen. “she’s touching herself.”

viktor’s breath hitches in his throat but he moves his own lust filled gaze down to stare at you. with both of them returning to stare at you, you palm yourself harder through your pants. moving your hips in sync to every bob of your head, needy and desperate as things evolve, all the while you moan around vik’s cock.

it’s all too much for viktor as his hips lift and he thrusts wildly into your mouth. “going to—!” he cries softly, body tightening, throwing his full weight back against jayce.

but jayce is quicker. one hand grabs your hair and pulls you off of vik’s twitching cock before he takes his hand and wraps it around where your mouth had just left. “stick out your tongue. i wanna see the mess he makes all over your face.” he grunts, pumping his fist quickly along vik’s entire shaft. his hand is much bigger than yours and it wraps entirely around viktor with ease, and it makes vik lose all control he might’ve pretended to have.

but you do as your told and swiftly stick your tongue out to catch whatever you can. all it takes is viktor staring at your tongue and jayce’s hand jerking him off to finish his orgasm. viktor forces himself to watch as he comes, fingers grasping and gripping onto anything he can that’s near him as he tumbles over the edge with a sharp cry.

your name, along with jayce’s name, leaves viktor’s lips in a pathetic whimper as he comes. can feel the sticky substance coat your tongue, cheek, and chin with each rope jayce rubs out of him. all the while viktor and jayce watch as he makes a mess across your lips and face, never once looking anywhere else.

not until vik is completely spent, limp against jayce who holds him up effortlessly. the only noise now in the room is the shared panting between all three of you. you lick your lips, trying to clean yourself up just a little, before it was your turn to break the silence.

“let’s keep going.”

[hannahbarberra162]

Emperor's Prize, Part 3 (ABO, Yandere Alpha!Shanks x Omega!Reader)

on Ao3 18+ MDNI

All the other chapters

Shanks POV

Shanks blinked awake a few hours later, his arm wrapped around your waist as you slept tucked into his side. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep next to you, it had just come naturally after laying down beside you. Even though he’d rather drift back off to sleep curled up next to you, he was hungry and thirsty as he’d missed dinner taking care of you. As he slowly retracted his arm trying to avoid disturbing your sleep, you let out a soft chuff of displeasure but didn’t wake. Shanks smiled, you derived some kind of physical pleasure from sleeping near him even if you weren’t ready to say it out loud. He left the bed and the cabin as quietly as he could, tiptoeing his way around the piles of dirty clothes he’d left on the floor. He decided to leave the door slightly ajar so he could hear if you woke in distress, perhaps frightened of an unfamiliar location. 

As he moved further from his cabin across the deck, his ear was pinched and tugged. Hard. He trailed behind Beckman who kept a firm hold on his Captain’s ear.

“ Ow! Hey! What gives?” Shanks whined as his first mate’s smoke wafted into his face. Beckman kept walking towards his cabin, not turning his face to answer.

“Did ye hear anything the doctor told you? He said -” 

“ ‘Course I did! I did everything he told me - bathed her, gave her food -” Beckman stopped walking after Shanks spoke and turned to face him. He pulled on Shanks’s ear even harder, making Shanks pout.

“You laid her down…next to you…in your bed..for the night. Are ye trying to get her to go into heat faster? Her smell’s all over you, did you fuckin’ mark her? If you did Shanks, I’m gonna cut off yer dick myself -” Beckman finally released the Captain as they were approaching Beckman’s cabin.

“I didn’t! Hardly even touched her. Poor thing fell right asleep, barely had time to get a sentence in before she was out like a light,” Shanks said, rubbing his ear with his hand.

“Decide what ye want to do with ‘er, Cap. By the end of the night,” Beckman demanded, opening the door to his cabin. Shanks usually liked Beckman’s cabin, the tidy space a pleasant spot for drinking and talking the night away. Right now Beckman’s potent smell inside made Shanks’s nose wrinkle in displeasure. When had Beckman started to reek so badly? Shanks leaned on the doorframe but didn’t follow his first mate inside.

“What now, Redhair?” Beckman grumbled, getting two glasses out of his small cupboard.

“Dunno. Just…don’t wanna come inside right now,” Shanks answered, not wanting to offend his friend.

“Are ye… sigh ..no wonder I went gray so fast. No shit ye don’t wanna come inside. I’m another Alpha and you’re about to start courting that Omega sleeping in your bed. It’s not personal, it’s biology. Doesn’t mean we’re not friends or that I won’t be yer first mate. Just complicates things for a few days between us,” Beckman said while handing Shanks his glass of whiskey. Both of them took their first sips, Shanks enjoying the burn on his tongue. 

Beckman looked over at his Captain, who was draining his glass quickly. “Yer keepin’ her,” Beckman stated. Shanks polished off the whiskey in a gulp and held the glass out for more. 

“Think so,” Shanks confirmed. 

“It’s a bad idea to keep an Omega on a pirate ship,” Beckman said, pouring Shanks another drink and handing him back his glass.

“Roger did it. That’s how he got Ace,” Shanks replied, swirling the drink in the glass. Beckman grunted, but Shanks wasn’t sure if it was in agreement or not. 

“Not sure that’s the best example to pick,” Beckman argued lightly, leaning against the doorpost to his cabin.

“What else’m I gonna do with her? She’s injured and alone, can’t just drop her off on an island. Not gonna sell her, there’s nothing else -”

“Oi. Play games with yourself but not with me. Admit you want tae keep ‘er for yourself. I know you, Shanks. I know what’s going on in that head,” Beckman said with a knowing look.

“Fine. I do want to keep her, yeah, that’s part of it,” Shanks muttered sullenly. He hadn’t sorted through his thoughts about you yet but Beckman wasn’t wrong. Shanks almost felt compelled to keep you and protect you though he’d barely known you a day. He supposed it was biology but he was also one to take things as they came - who was he to interfere with the plans of fate?

“So be it. We’ll dock tomorrow or the day after, she’ll make it until then. Just don’t fuckin’ mark her or she’ll go into heat right thereafter, yeah? Keep yer head on straight,” Beckman’s voice was firm as he gave his captain a hard stare. Shanks resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his first mate’s attempt to lecture him. He’d listened to Hongo, he knew what to do. Taking the next drink in one gulp, he handed the glass back to Beckman.

“And stop drinking my good whiskey like yer cheap vodka,” Beckman complained without rancor. 

“Aye, aye Cap’n,” Shanks said easily, saluting and handing the glass back to the first mate. He was still hungry and meandered down to the kitchens, looking for something to snack on. Shanks overheard the conversations flowing between his commanders as he approached the kitchen and he found himself rolling his eyes as they prattled on. He should have known they’d be gossiping because normally he’d be right there with them talking shit. Shanks stood listening in just outside the open door to the galley.

“- know he’s gonna keep ‘er, there’s no way he won’t,” Rockstar exclaimed, slamming down something heavy on the wooden table.

“‘Course he is, have you seen her? All that hair, those legs, the smell? Can you imagine what it would feel like to fu -” 

Shanks’ Conqueror’s haki surged with power causing the wood door to splinter as a rumble simultaneously built in his chest. Bonk Punch, Gab, and Yasopp looked up from their seats astounded, nearly frightened. Their stares confirmed that this wasn’t the Shanks they were used to - he had never used any kind of force against a member of his crew. He was barely conscious of his actions but he couldn’t stop himself from acting this way. He’d barely felt his haki gathering much less activating, shocking himself as much as his crew. But hearing the Omega in conjunction with the thought of anyone other than himself fucking her was sending him into a rage. Yasopp looked over at Gab and put his hands up in an apologetic supplication.

“Sorry, Cap. Was just…chatting. Didn’t mean nothing by it,” the sniper’s voice was faint as his eyes darted from his captain to his crew mates. Shanks tried to stop growling but the apology offered wasn’t enough to calm his Alpha side.

“Go,” was all Shanks was able to say in between warning growls. The men scrambled away with their plates of late night food forgotten on the table in their haste to leave. After they were gone Shanks sat down heavily on the wooden bench before dropping his head into his hands, the long red strands in the front falling over his fingers. Shanks prided himself on his self control, on his ability to be who he needed to be at all times. And this? This Alpha wasn’t someone he recognized or wanted to be. His mind raced as he began to think that maybe keeping the Omega wasn’t the right decision to make after all. Shanks munched on his crew’s leftover food as he meandered back to his cabin, purposefully avoiding talking to any more crew until he’d sorted his mind out.

Pushing the door in while holding it down to avoid the creak he knew would come, Shanks inhaled your light scent of lily of the valley and cedar and the smell went straight to his cock. You had moved from your previous position, now curled up completely into a little ball at the far end of the bed against the cold wall with the bathrobe from before discarded at the foot of the bed. Shanks frowned at the sight of your defensive sleeping position. Throwing off his cloak again, he undressed completely and laid down where he was previously. Shanks didn’t like wearing clothes to bed so he figured you might as well get used to it sooner rather than later. 

“Come on, Love,” he said while pulling you towards him again. You were warm and sweating despite the cold air in the cabin and your muscles were tight as he shifted your body so your back was against his chest. You jerked awake as Shanks settled you into his side, moving your arms and ducking your head quickly to protect your face. The sight of your terrified and confused expression broke Shanks’ heart all over again. He patted your face and hair, trying to calm you down from whatever nightmare you’d just been experiencing. How could he think to get rid of you when you were so traumatized and broken? No, he needed to keep you by his side and protected - he’d work on his aggression. Maybe after you’d gone through your heat his aggression would decrease on its own.

“Shhhh, it’s just me. Go back to sleep, it’s the middle of the night,” Shanks whispered into your ear as he resumed purring for you. You closed your eyes again and tried to relax your stiff body but whatever you’d been dreaming about was sticking with you. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Shanks asked quietly as his purr rumbled through his chest. He wasn’t surprised when you shook your head in response to his query but Shanks didn’t mind. There would come a time when you’d want to share everything with him, and he was willing to wait as long as it took. To Shanks’ surprise, you rolled over and buried your face in his neck, feeling the vibrations of his purr on your face. He ran his hand up and down your back as your scent blossomed in the cabin. The longer he purred for you, the more your scent bloomed in the small cabin, making his desire to scent you grow with each whiff of flora he inhaled deeply in his lungs.

Holding you close to his nude body, Shanks couldn’t help himself from licking a long stripe up your neck, tonguing hard over your scent gland. Your wound was on the other side of your neck, he wasn’t going to risk reinfecting you, but the smell you produced was so tantalizing and potent he couldn’t help himself; he simply had to taste you. He also couldn’t stop himself from moaning softly as he ran his lips over your scent gland and trailed his tongue over the front of your neck. You tasted just as good as you smelled and he wanted more. He spent several minutes mouthing and licking your scent glands, wanting his smell to linger there as you shivered beneath his attention. He could smell your slick starting to pool between your thighs, it was said that the scent glands of an Omega were as sensitive of an erogenous zone as their groins. 

Shanks felt his canine teeth elongating in preparation for a bite before he pulled himself away at the last moment. His dominating side was roaring at him to bite you, to properly claim you, but his rational side knew it would bring you into heat faster. As he pulled back, Shanks noticed you were stiff and unmoving in his hold despite the purr still emanating from him, your eyes wide and wary of his next move. You were leaning back away from him, as far back as you could get without moving away.

“ ‘M sorry, got away from me,” Shanks mumbled his apology into your hair. He was sorry you were afraid but he wasn’t sorry he’d done it. Even Hongo said that you needed to have his scent on you, this was one of the ways he could do that. Ideally, he would have loved to continue his scenting and stuff you with his cock but he knew that would only ruin whatever small amount of trust he’d begun to build with you. He resumed slowly stroking the skin of your back, purring all the while. Eventually, you were lulled back to sleep by his soothing purr, Shanks feeling your even breath fanning across his neck. Drifting off, Shanks couldn’t believe he’d thought to get rid of you.

Your POV

You woke up confused. You were very warm and no one had come to wake you via bodily harm. You hadn’t been woken up in the middle of the night by someone pulling on your chains - and actually, you had no chains on. You were…in Shanks’ cabin. Alone. Covered by his blankets and doused in his smell as the late morning sun streamed through the window. You weren’t sure what time it was but it was definitely later than you’d slept in a long time. You blinked a few more times as your memories of the previous day came back to you - the rescue, the bath, the food, the scenting…

Shanks’s attention to your scent glands the previous night worried you. He had come back to bed naked, you could feel his hard length grinding against your ass as he held you close. You’d wanted to stay like that and try to forget the nightmare you had but he’d started purring and your resolve weakened. You’d wanted to feel his strong purr, to wrap yourself up in it as securely as the blankets around your body. So you’d turned towards him and immediately felt yourself held in place as Shanks licked and sucked on your scent gland. Between the purr, the heat of his body, his hard cock, and the feeling of someone almost lovingly tending to your glands, your mind was swimming in the face of the overwhelming stimulation. You felt more pliant under his hold, like any whim that came to his mind was yours to fulfill. The rational part of your mind screamed for this to stop but another part of you had come forward to not only accept his ministrations, but to revel in them.

Besides, it wasn't like you were actually going to tell him to stop. Those were all thoughts swirling around your head as you fell under his Alpha spell, but you’d let him do anything he wanted to you. After all, you knew how things went with an Alpha from your time on the Victoria Punk. You’d let him do as he willed, merely grateful he stopped before he bit you.

Alone for now, you took stock of your injuries as was your morning custom. Your neck hurt where Hongo had stitched it but that was to be expected. Your other sores ached as well but you were used to it and you hadn’t received any new injuries so all in all you were doing well as far as you were concerned. Looking around, you saw the Emperor had an ensuite you hadn’t noticed the previous night. Even Kid had let you use the bathroom when you needed to, surely you could now. After relieving yourself, you happened to look at your face in the mirror hanging above the bathroom sink.

Objectively, you knew it was yourself staring back at you. Who else would it be? But the longer you looked, the more separate you felt from the person in the mirror. The features that were once so familiar to you, that reminded you of your family, now belonged to a stranger. You reached up to touch your chin, the same one your Grandmother had, and pinched it hard. The body you were in registered pain but you couldn’t seem to care. Pulling your eyes away from the person in the mirror, you returned to your spot on the bed and hid yourself with the covers once again. You were hungry but there wasn’t any food in the cabin and you wouldn’t have eaten it without express permission anyway. 

You lost yourself in thinking about the person in the mirror while you sat in the bed for an indeterminate amount of time. You didn’t mind, you were used to waiting without any diversions, and you had always enjoyed spending time alone. At least here you weren’t in chains or bound in an uncomfortable position. The sun shifted as the day passed, bringing the warmth of the afternoon into the cabin. The way the cabin steadily grew warmer made you glad you were naked, you would’ve been a sweaty mess by now if you had been clothed. As you lounged and absently brushed your tangled hair with your fingers, there was a single knock on the door before it opened. You averted your gaze and brought the blankets up to cover your neck.

“Good afternoon, Sleepyhead!” Shanks said merrily, opening the door with his hip to bring in a tray of food and drink. You didn’t reply and didn’t look up, choosing the safer option of waiting for him to tell you what he wanted you to do. Even though he had been fairly nice so far you didn’t want to push him before you knew him well enough to predict his behavior. 

“Been up for a while, then? Why didn’t you say anything or come out?” Shanks asked with genuine curiosity while holding a mug of water out to you. You extended your hand to accept it but he pulled it away before you could take it.

“Answer me, Love. I enjoy hearing your voice. Why didn’t you let me know you were up or come out of the cabin?” he prodded gently. The truth was you weren’t going to do anything he didn’t tell you to do, but that wouldn’t satisfy the Emperor. He’d already told you he wouldn’t harm you but you weren’t sure if you could trust him and you didn’t want to risk incurring his wrath should your doubt be considered a slight against him. Instead, you gave him a half truth and hoped he’d accept it without asking anything that might put you in danger.

“No clothes,” you said in a rough voice before accepting the water as Shanks handed it to you.

“Ah, right. My fault for that one,” Shanks said with an easy smile and set the tray down on the bed. You watched him amble over to his clothing pile on the floor where he began kicking it with one sandaled foot. “Go ahead and eat while I look for something for you to wear. Those need to be washed, not for you. Maybe there’s something in here,” he said while opening a chest filled with fabrics. Rummaging through them, he pulled out breezy cotton shirts, loose fitting pants, and an endless array of sashes.

“Hmm. Not sure there’s anything in here that would fit you, but we’ll give it a go. Here, try….these,” Shanks said, handing you a billowy top and hideously colored orange pants. You set the mug of water you were still sipping on the bedside table and stood up to pull the shirt over your head. It had one button that sat below your navel and the plunging neckline left your breasts completely exposed. The pants were large but you rolled the legs up a few times and they would work if you didn’t have to run anywhere. 

“Well, that won’t do. Can’t have everyone seeing you like that, yeah? Maybe I could…hold on. Lemme go check and see what’s on the ship. You sit tight here and I’ll be right back,” the Emperor said while looking at your outfit. Sitting back at the edge of the bed, you waited patiently and nibbled at the food until he returned just moments later. 

“Well, it’s a mixed bag. The good news is that we’ll be docked at an island by tomorrow and I can buy you new clothes. The bad news is I have nothing for you now, so you’re gonna have to wear these. I don’t have a lot of, oh wait…I have one long sleeved shirt I think…the one from the time with Ace…" The Emperor was throwing clothes from his trunk onto the floor as he sorted them while still looking for something for you to wear. It was almost surreal, here was one of the strongest men in the world at your feet, looking through his old clothes on your behalf. He must have sensed you were watching him because he looked up and beamed at you. You didn’t know what to make of the gesture so you looked down and picked at a stain on the pants you were wearing.

“Ah well. We’ll be at an island tomorrow so we can raid their stores. Not literally though, we’ll pay for whatever you need,” Shanks said, stuffing everything back in the trunk without sorting or folding and shutting it by pushing the lid down. Your heart swelled with the thought of being on land once again, you hadn’t set foot off a ship since the day Killer had brought you to the Punk. 

“Can I go too? Please?” you asked quietly without looking up. After a moment, Shanks stood up and walked over to where you were by the bed. He put his hand on your forehead, the action causing you to flinch backward. As he touched you, the feeling of his chilly hand against your hot forehead felt wonderful. You leaned into his touch, wanting to feel something cold against your warm skin.

“I don’t think so, Love. You’re already getting warmer, you’re getting too close to your heat to risk going on the island. I’m not going to let anything happen to you but it might make other people uncomfortable with how much scent you’re producing. So, no, Love, you’ve got to stay here for now. I don’t even want you leaving the cabin until your heat starts.” Shanks was patting your hair, like you would a dog who needed to be shown affection lest it act out again. You nodded at his statements. Logically, it made sense and you understood why the Emperor had denied your request. But…it had been so long since you’d asked for anything and you were immediately told no. You were keenly aware of your place once again while you sat and waited for his next command.

Shanks POV

Shanks was distraught at the Omega’s minute reaction as he told you that you had to stay on the ship. He wanted to show you the world as he saw it, a place rife with fun and adventure, not keep you in a cage like you had been before. But based on your rising body temperature, they’d dock at the island just in time for your cycle to begin. The increasing smell emanating from you was already causing the crew agitation, even though the majority of them were Betas. Hongo had assured Shanks that once you’d started your heat and he joined you, it would be easier on everyone as your scents merged. For now tension was high on the ship, tempers rising and fights breaking out over small matters.

Shanks had left the cabin to look for clothes for the Omega, thinking that maybe Beckman or Yasopp had something that would fit you since Ben liked smaller shirts and Yasopp was the shortest on the crew. He hadn’t made it three steps outside the cabin before he’d turned around in disgust. Shanks couldn’t bear the thought of his Omega wearing anything but his own clothes, if anything at all. You wouldn’t be wearing anything from Beckman or Yasopp or anyone else on the crew as long as he was breathing. Turning around, he saw Beckman growling while talking to Monster, something he hadn’t seen in all the years they’d been sailing together. For the crew’s sake, he had to tell the Omega to stay in the cabin.

Breaking the news to you hadn’t been easy either, your carefully schooled features concealing nearly all your sadness as he said you had to remain in his cabin. Just the slightest wobble of your lush lower lip told him you were upset about his decision, though you didn’t voice any discontent. You merely kept your gaze averted as your hands gripped the fabric of the pants you were wearing tightly in your small fists. Shanks sat down next to you on the bed, crowding you with his physical proximity.

“It’ll be ok, don’t worry. You’ll get off the ship soon, just not now. You can be brave for a few more days, yeah?” You nodded as you moved your torso slightly further away from Shanks. Shanks moved around and laid on the bed, opening his arm to you, wanting you to receive affection from him. You took the hint and laid down next to him, side by side on the bed, your head resting on his bicep.

“Who will…help me?” you asked in a small voice as you worried the fabric of your shirt between your fingers. 

“Through your heat? I will, Love,” Shanks informed you with a kiss on the top of your head. You pressed your lips together tightly and closed your eyes. It was well known that if an Omega didn’t have an Alpha for their heat it was tantamount to torture, so someone was going to have to help guide you through it and it might as well have been Shanks. He was the Captain and an Apex Alpha beside, no one else was going to have the honor. 

“This will be my first time with an Omega in heat, we’ll both be new to this. We’ll go through it together,” Shanks said reassuringly, pulling the Omega up farther so your neck aligned closer to his mouth. Your scent glands were tantalizing in their nearness, he just wanted one small taste to tide him over for now. Flicking out his tongue, you couldn’t help but shiver when he licked over your scent glands as he had the night before. He wanted to feel you shivering under his tongue in other places…and he would be soon enough. Shanks began lapping your neck, making sure to avoid the area with the stitches. 

“Needta get you things for your nest,” Shanks thought out loud, remembering what Hongo had told him. He threw his leg over yours, keeping you still beneath him as you squirmed from his attention to your neck. He still hadn’t kissed you on the mouth, Shanks wanted to wait for you to initiate that intimate moment between you. 

“Afterward…after the heat…am I…” you asked him in between kisses, licks, and nips to the skin of your neck. You’d let the question dangle but Shanks knew you were asking if he’d free you. Another disappointment to come your way, Shanks thought. He’d find some way to make it up to you, some kind of present you’d like. 

“No, Love,” Shanks said, stopping his onslaught against your neck for a moment. He propped up his head on his hand, looking down at you lying on his bed. Your face was flushed and your pupils were blown wide, your body preparing you for pleasure at his hand. You looked radiant and it was taking a great deal of restraint to hold himself back from opening the shirt you were wearing further and sucking on your pert nipples. “You can’t go back. You’ve been identified now and there’s a target on your back. Unless you’d rather be sold at a slave auction, you should stay here with me,” Shanks said. Your face paled immediately at his words and your hands reached for him, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling gingerly.

“N-no, please Emperor. Please let m-me stay,” you bleated out. Shanks almost regretted his choice of words but seeing you reaching for him, for his protection, had his Alpha side crowing in delight.

“Of course you can stay, Love, don’t worry,” Shanks murmured into your skin as he kissed your shoulder where his shirt had fallen to the side. 

“You’ll be with me for as long as you’d like.”

Taglist: @v1ennie @staarflowerr @treelogirl @rebeccawinters @nocturnalrorobin @mochiclouds @cursedforlife666 @epochal-oracle @whore-of-many-hot-men @one-piecelover @anemonyee @joana7654-blog

[audliminal]

Survivability Bias Pt 5

Masterpost Ao3

“So hypothetically,” Superboy begins, glancing over at Robin. “Say I met another meta, and they, like, needed a civilian identity...” He trails off, listening intently. Trying to get anything from Robin's expression is pointless - between his skill at maintaining his composure, and the expression obscuring mask, there's not a lot to be read on his face. Instead Superboy focuses on his heartbeat, which speeds up the smallest amount as Robin turns away from the tablet he'd been working with, and settles his full attention directly onto Superboy.

“Hypothetically,” Robin repeats.

“Yeah. You know, in theory, if that ever happened.” Robin stares at Superboy for a moment, presumably reading everything that's missing from his own face in Superboy's.

“Well. In theory, the Justice League has the means to grant any meta hero a full identity. Is this about you? Because honestly it's insane that they haven't bothered yet, and I will straight up make you one right now if you-”

“No, it's not about me,” Superboy interrupts. “But like, you could do that? Without the Justice League’s support, I mean?. Like, say if this hypothetical person really didn't want the Justice League knowing about them?”

“You met a meta who doesn't like the Justice League.”

“I don't think it's really about the Justice League specifically. I mean, they definitely don't exist, but if they did, then I would say that the second I showed up they were bracing for a fight. Like before they even saw who I was.” Robin sets his tablet to the side without looking, and leans just a touch towards Superboy as he talks. It's honestly wild, he thinks, how the other boy can manage such intense eye contact through white lenses, but, well, that's the bats for you.

“Theoretically, I could absolutely make this person an identity, if they did exist. But I would want to meet them first.”

“Cool, cool,” Superboy says leaning back into the couch. “I offered to introduce you and they said they'd consider it. I think, maybe they don't trust adults very much, bc they asked if you were our age.”

“Theoretically?”

“Exactly.”

* * *

Though the specific details as to when the founding member first became acquainted, it was only after multiple incidents of near-worldwide devastation that they realized the necessity of an organized front.

The details of the forming of the Justice League should be fascinating, if only for the revelation that world-ending disasters are, apparently, relatively common in this universe. In a way, it’s a comforting thought. Memories of Dan sit as heavily as ever in Danny’s mind, especially now that he’s effectively lost his family, just like in Dan’s timeline. Of course, here there’s presumably no risk of him getting fused with Vlad, so probably that specific threat isn’t likely, but - well, if it comes to the worst and Danny does go mad, there’s at least a reasonably good chance that the heroes here will be able to stop him.

On the other hand, this also means that if the heroes turn out to actually be evil or whatever, he has less chance of getting away. Of course, Superboy hadn’t really seemed evil, but Danny really has no clue if he would even be able to tell. Sure he’d known Vlad was a nightmare from a mile away, but Vlad wasn’t exactly subtle about his obsession with Danny. Evil steeped in calculation would surely be harder to spot, wouldn’t it?

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” someone says from behind Danny. “But are you going to be using that computer for much longer?” Danny blinks, staring back at the teen who’s looking at him nervously. Danny glances over at the clock, but it’s now reading 2:30, which means that he’s been here for like three hours already,and he really hasn’t read much of anything in all that time.

“You can have it,” Danny says, pulling back to shove his notebook into his backpack.

“You sure, man? I don’t wanna chase you off, but I really could use it. Physics project, you know?” 

“Yeah, I get it. Wasn’t really making much progress anyway. Might as well take a break.” Danny says. He never got to take physics in school, but he remembers struggling with lit class enough to understand the sentiment. And he really isn’t making any progress, if he’s been staring at the same Justice League page for multiple hours.

“You working on a history project or something?”

“Yeah.” It’s close enough to the truth.

“What teacher d’you have? It’s pretty cool that they’re letting you do it on the Justice League.”

“Oh, uh,” Danny quails for a moment, focusing on closing the tab so he doesn’t tell the kid he’s not going to school. After all it’s probably reasonable to assume the laws about delinquency are the same here. “It’s more about the meta protection acts than like, the Justice League itself. And I’m not really local, so...”

“Ah, that explains why I don’t recognize you,” the other teen grins.

“Yeah,” Danny says, stepping back so the other teen can take over the computer. “Well, good luck with your physics project.”

“Thanks, man, and good luck with your meta-acts essay.” The other teen turns his attention to the computer as Danny steps away, heading for the library exit. Clearly research isn’t going well today, and Jazz would definitely yell at him for trying to force his brain to focus when it clearly doesn’t want to. He pauses outside for a moment, trying to remember what Jazz said to when your focus was shot. Obviously part one was to take a break, but he’s certain that she’d had more to say than that.

He thinks he remembers her going on a rant about monotony, and boredom, but he doesn’t really feel bored. Actually more than anything he feels wired and anxious. And anxious means he should...

“Turn slow tigers into fast tigers,” Danny mutters, gaining a deeply confused look from the couple other patrons standing outside the library. He ignores them, though, and starts heading for the nearby park, so he can do some stretches. Fast tigers means he has to exercise, which he would usually complain about but- well, his routine has definitely been a lot less active since he got here. Other than the train crash the other week, Danny’s been spending most of his time sitting and reading, and while it’s been insanely nice to have nobody hunting him, honestly the idea of exercise sounds almost horrifyingly nice.

He does his best to run through the kind of stretches he remembers doing in PE, warming himself up as best he can before starting to jog the little looping path. The jeans make it a little more annoying than he remembers in PE, but luckily they’re kind of loose, so they’re not too terrible to run in, and Danny has no intention of going very fast. There’s too many people around even if he wanted to, and he does his best to be polite and not in the way as he jogs. it doesn’t take long for his breathing to go heavy with exertion, and as he finishes his second circuit, Dannyt relaxes into it, and just lets himself run.

Thirty minutes later, Danny is feeling markedly more tired, and he lets himself slow to a walk. His heart is thudding rhythmically in his chest, the occasional stutter only more prominent in the heightened pounding, and his legs feel a little wobbly, but he keeps walking, The sweat he’d worked up feels gross against his clothes, so probably he could’ve gone about it better, but Danny figures a whole thirty minutes without worrying about his existential situation is more than worth feeling gross for a bit. His usual tactic of sneaking into the local gym while it’s closed isn’t gonna cut it during the day, so he’ll have to wait to shower, but in the meantime, he can walk off the remaining adrenaline, and decide what to do for dinner.

* * *

“Hey, did you really mean what you said about me having a civilian identity?” Robin looks up as Superboy sits in the air beside his work desk.

“I have four different identities, ready for you to choose from,” Robin says.

“Wait do you just keep possible identities around in case anybody needs them? Is that, like, a Bat thing?” Superboy leans over to examine the tool Robin had been working on. Like everything else he uses, it’s emblazoned with a bat insignia, not that the marking does anything to help identify what the little machine even does. It’s ridiculously small, definitely not any kind of weapon, unless Robin’s been tinkering with the idea of murderous nanobots, which honestly wouldn’t be that shocking. Of any hero Superboy’s ever met, Robin seems uniquely predisposed towards mad scientist-type stuff.

“I keep exactly two emergency identities on hold, but those are separate. I was talking specifically about identities for you.” Superboy freezes, turning his eyes back to Robin, who looks at him like this is a perfectly normal thing to say. Superboy is at least ninety percent sure it isn’t, but what the hell.

“What the hell,” Superboy echoes his own thoughts. “Why would I ever need four identities?”

“You don’t need four, you need options. There’s no point in giving you an identity you hate.”

“Okay, but people don’t get to choose their names? So why would I care.”

“Most people don’t choose their names because most people receive them when they’re babies, but everyone has the ability to change it later if they decide they don’t like it. You have the unique advantage of being cognitively developed enough to have a say from the beginning, and you should have the opportunity to use it.”

“Huh...” That’s actually kind of sweet. “Do you like your name? I mean, like, that’s not why you don’t want to tell us, right?”

“My name is adequate,” Robin answers slowly. “It’s mine and I am... accustomed to it. The reason I haven’t told you my name is because it... implicates the other bats, and Batman considers that to be a significant security risk.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess that’s fair. Could I see the names you were thinking of?”

“Certainly,” Robin says, pushing back from the desk. “Let me get my tablet.”

* * *

“Uh, Superboy?” Danny shouts, trying to ignore how fucking ridiculous this feels. “Are you, like, free to talk? I think I want to meet your friend.” He’s hovering in the sky about a mile out from his town, in as close to the middle of nowhere as he could manage. He’d done a bit of looking into Robin this morning, before making his decision, and what a wild discovery that Robin was a name that had been held by multiple individuals. It makes him think of Dani, and he almost hopes that wherever she ends up, she might use the name Phantom too. After all, if anyone else rights to it, it would be his genetic clone.

Danny has no clue if time is flowing the same here as back home, but with any luck his friends have managed to orchestrate Dani’s escape too. It was always going to be a little more dodgy than Danny himself- his death being inherently tied to the portal had meant it was a bit more responsive to him than it otherwise would be, and that detail had been pretty quintessential to the rewiring that had needed to be done in order to send him to an entirely different universe, but they’d been hoping that her nature as a post-portal clone would mean that she had a close enough tie to the portal to send her through as well. Not that Danny would likely ever get to know for sure.

The soft rush of air alerted Danny to someone’s arrival, and he just managed to keep himself from falling into a defensive posture as he turned to look at the newly arrived Superboy, and the other teen being carried in his arms. Danny recognized the other boys outfit as that of the current Robin, who was now staring at Danny through a pair of disconcerting white-lenses set into a domino mask.

“We were free so I figured we’d just come meet you?” Superboy says with a nervous grin.

“Yeah, that’s, um, kind of obvious. Should we land?” Danny’s pretty sure that none of the Bats have flight, and like, as much as flying is cool as hell, Robin doesn’t look particularly impressed by it.

“That would be preferable, please,” Robin says, confirming Danny’s thoughts. He nods, and heads for the ground. Superboy follows just as quickly, and a moment later they’re all gathered on a gravel road in farmland.

“So, uh,” Superboy begins, once he’s deposited Robin on his own two feet.

“You told him about me before,” Danny says. Superboy may have had plenty of time to fly over here, but there hadn’t been enough of a delay to have explained the situation to Robin just now.

“It was an entirely theoretical conversation,” Robin offers dryly, before Superboy can respond.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that he was asking if I could theoretically help a meta acquire an identity if they were uncomfortable with the Justice League. Nothing of it was mentioned to anyone else and he told me no details about who any theoretical metas might be.” Danny blinks, taking a moment to process Robin’s explanation. In a way it makes sense, and he can see why Superboy would want to make sure that what he was offering was even possible.  Besides, it’s pretty obvious already that they both really trust each other.

“Okay, sure. I guess I get it.”

“I would like to know why you’re concerned about the Justice League, though, if you’re willing to share. If there’s anything illicit happening-”

“Oh, no, it’s not like that,” Danny cuts in as soon as he realizes where Robin’s going. He’s suddenly glad he’d already decided to explain his situation in more detail. “It’s like, I’m not from here so my shit is entirely unrelated? It’s just, they’re -you’re?- associated with the government, you know?”

“And your government is a threat to you.”

“Honestly, everything was. But they can’t get to me here. It’s why my friends- that’s why I’m here.”

“Okay, but are you sure you’re safe? Because like, space travel is a thing, and if you need protection...” Superboy trails off, looking concerned.

“I mean, it should be fine? Even if the GIW did manage to figure out inter-dimensional travel, I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be able to figure out where specifically I went, so yeah.” Danny really doesn’t want to think about a GIW that’s gone inter-dimensional.

“Well if they did manage to make it here, they would be breaching the meta protection acts if they tried anything, so I hope if that does happen you inform myself or Superboy.”

“Yeah,” Danny laughs. “It’s honestly been kind of crazy trying to wrap my head around the idea I have protections here?”

“That’s understandable. Plenty of meta-individuals have complicated feelings about them, even if they grew up here.”

“Oh?”

“Well, just because it’s illegal to exploit or discriminate against someone doesn’t necessarily mean it doesn’t happen. And metas who have been treated poorly often have trouble trusting in the protection acts.”

“Or sometimes you just didn’t get that info programmed into you and then you have to adjust to your understanding of history being manufactured,” Superboy mutters under his breath. Robin doesn’t react at all and Danny’s pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to hear it either. The implications are a bit concerning, but Danny’s not about to press him on it.

“Yeah, I mean that’s kind of where I am, I guess. I think I’d like it if you’d be willing to make me a legal identity? I’m basically homeless at the moment, so I’d like to be able to get a job or something. But I’d really rather not end up on the Justice League’s radar yet. You guys seem nice, but databases are- a lot.”

“Easy enough. I can actually do it all with my personal resources, so the info never goes anywhere near the Justice League’s databases. We just need to determine what name history you want to have.”

“I mean, I’d like to keep my name, if possible?”

“Sure, What’s your name?” Robin tilts his head.

“Danny Fenton.”

[moonselune]

Hi! Could I request something? I just saw you accept new request again! I was thinking of yearning. Them yearning for oblivious tav.

I just love a good old yearning prompt

yesssssss the yearning the pining the dramaaa

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

Karlach was trying her best to keep it together. As she sat by the campfire, her eyes kept drifting toward you, her massive frame leaning slightly forward as if she could somehow close the gap between you just by willing it. You were tending to a few weapons you’d scavenged earlier in the day, completely oblivious to the way her molten eyes lingered on you, the way her hands fidgeted with a piece of stray leather to distract herself from the ache in her chest.

Wyll, sitting nearby with a mischievous grin, had noticed. Of course, he had noticed. The Blade of Frontiers had a knack for picking up on unspoken emotions, and Karlach was as subtle as a roaring forge.

“You know,” Wyll began, his voice low and teasing as he leaned toward Karlach, “if you keep staring at them like that, you’re liable to set the poor one on fire.”

Karlach froze, her cheeks flushing as embers flickered to life along her horns.

“What?” she whispered sharply, her voice cracking. “I wasn’t staring! I was just—”

“Yearning?” Wyll supplied with a grin, leaning back casually.

“I don’t yearn,” Karlach snapped, though her voice lacked conviction.

“Oh, come now,” Wyll said, his tone smug. “The sighing, the pining, the tragic glances when he’s not looking—it’s downright poetic.” He tapped his chin theatrically. “It’s almost enough to compose a ballad.”

Karlach shot him a glare, her flames flaring slightly around her shoulders. “Wyll, I swear, if you don’t shut it—”

But it was too late. Her embarrassment sent her infernal engine into overdrive, and the flames on her body surged. The sudden flare caught your attention, and you glanced up from your work.

“Karlach?” you called out, your voice filled with concern as you stood and crossed the campfire toward her. “Are you okay?”

The sheer earnestness in your tone made her heart lurch painfully in her chest. She quickly tried to wave you off, her hands fanning at her shoulders as if she could dampen the flames.

“It’s nothing! Just—hot, you know?” she stammered.

“Well, yeah, you’re always hot,” you said, grabbing a nearby waterskin. “But this seems worse than usual.”

Karlach froze, her eyes going wide at your words. Did you—did you just call her hot? Surely, you didn’t mean it like that, right?

“Here, let me help,” you said, uncapping the waterskin.

“No, no, really, I’m fine—”

Too late. You doused her with a splash of water, and instead of calming her flames, it only made things worse. The steam hissed around her, mingling with her rising panic, and her flames flared even brighter.

“Gods, I’m sorry!” you exclaimed, looking horrified. “Did that make it worse?”

Karlach buried her face in her hands, groaning loudly. “No, no, it’s fine, just—don’t worry about it.”

Wyll, watching the scene unfold, laughed openly now. “You’re really outdoing yourself, Karlach. I think the entire camp will see those flames soon.”

You shot Wyll a confused look. “What’s he talking about?”

Karlach peeked through her fingers, her flames dimming slightly as her mortification reached its peak.

“Nothing! He’s just… being a prat,” she said quickly, glaring at Wyll, who only grinned wider.

“I’d call it encouragement,” Wyll said lightly. “After all, someone here needs to take a hint.”

You blinked at him, clearly puzzled, but before you could ask what he meant, Karlach stood abruptly, the ground under her feet crunching as her weight shifted.

“I’m gonna, uh, go check on—anything else,” she muttered, stomping off toward the edge of camp.

You watched her go, bewildered, before turning back to Wyll. “Did I do something wrong?”

Wyll chuckled, shaking his head. “Not wrong, no. Just oblivious. Don’t worry—you’ll figure it out eventually. Maybe.”

You frowned, glancing back toward where Karlach had disappeared into the shadows, her flames still faintly flickering in the distance. You didn’t know what you’d missed, but something about the way she’d looked at you before she left lingered in your mind, warm and unexplained.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The campfire crackled gently, casting a warm glow across the assembled group. You sat on a log, sharpening your blade, blissfully unaware of the undercurrents running through the evening.

Minthara, sitting a few paces away, had her sharp red eyes trained on you, a faint furrow in her brow. Her usual composed demeanor was slightly off tonight—her movements a touch too deliberate, her glances toward you lingering just a second too long.

Shadowheart, one of the resident camp gossips, noticed. She always did.

“Why don’t you just say something, Minthara?” Shadowheart drawled lazily, her lips curling into a smirk as she toyed with a loose strand of her hair. “It’s not as though subtlety is your strong suit. Or theirs, for that matter.”

Minthara’s sharp gaze snapped toward her, irritation flashing across her face.

“I do not need your advice, cleric,” she said coolly.

“Oh, I think you do,” Shadowheart said, undeterred. “Because whatever it is you’ve been doing clearly isn’t working. They haven’t even noticed.” She tilted her head toward you, who were now carefully oiling your weapon, oblivious to the tension building around you.

Minthara’s grip on her dagger tightened, her knuckles turning white. “They have other matters to attend to. The fault lies not with my approach but their… distraction.”

Shadowheart chuckled. “Distraction? They’re so dense they probably think the moonrise is flirting with them. You’ll have to carve it into the side of their tent before they catch on.”

That was the last straw. Minthara stood abruptly, her dark cloak billowing behind her as she marched across the campsite toward you.

“Minthara?” you said, startled as her shadow fell over you.

Before you could say another word, she grabbed you by the front of your tunic and pulled you to your feet with a surprising amount of force. Her crimson eyes burned with frustration and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“You,” she snapped, her voice ringing out across the camp, “are impossibly blind.”

“W-what?” you stammered, your mind racing to figure out what you’d done wrong this time.

“I have fought by your side,” she began, her voice rising. “I have trusted you, protected you, respected you. I have given you every sign imaginable, and yet you remain oblivious to the fact that I—” She stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath, as if even saying the words aloud were a battle she needed to win. “That I desire you, you fool!”

The camp went silent. Even the fire seemed to crackle a little softer as everyone turned to stare.

You blinked, utterly dumbfounded. “You… you desire me?”

Minthara groaned, her head tipping back in exasperation before she fixed you with an incredulous look. “Yes! Must I spell it out further? Or perhaps I should inscribe it on your blade since that seems to be where your attention is always focused!”

Shadowheart, who had been watching the entire exchange with barely suppressed laughter, finally burst out into an uncontrollable giggle.

“Oh, gods, this is better than I could’ve hoped,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye.

Minthara turned her glare on her, her lips curling in irritation. “If you say one more word, Shadowheart, I will—”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupted, holding up your hands. “Everyone calm down.” You turned back to Minthara, your voice softening. “I’m sorry if I missed the signs, Minthara. I honestly didn’t realize.”

Her anger seemed to waver, replaced by a flicker of vulnerability.

“How could you not?” she asked, almost to herself. You hesitated, then placed a tentative hand on hers, still gripping your tunic.

“Because I’m an idiot,” you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But I’m an idiot who’s honored and… maybe a little thrilled by what you just said.”

For the first time that evening, Minthara seemed at a loss for words. Her lips parted slightly, her sharp demeanor softening as she searched your face.

“Thrilled, you say?” she murmured, the barest hint of a smirk returning.

“Thrilled,” you confirmed, your cheeks warming under her intense gaze.

The tension in the air shifted, no longer charged with frustration but with something warmer, something promising. Minthara released your tunic, smoothing it out almost absently. “Then perhaps next time, you won’t require such… dramatic measures to understand me.”

Shadowheart made a kissy noise behind you, and you shot her a glare over your shoulder. Minthara, however, ignored her entirely, her focus solely on you.

“Now,” she said, her voice back to its usual measured tone. “Shall we continue this conversation somewhere with fewer interruptions?”

You nodded, feeling a grin spread across your face. “Lead the way.”

As you walked off together, Shadowheart’s laughter echoed behind you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. For once, the fog of obliviousness had lifted, and you were exactly where you wanted to be—at Minthara’s side.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

Lae’zel had always been a force of nature—her sharp tongue, battle-hardened demeanor, and unyielding confidence left no room for doubt. And that’s exactly how she preferred it. To anyone observing her, she was the epitome of githyanki discipline and control. But deep down, behind the steel exterior and fiery eyes, she was at war with herself.

She had a massive, undeniable crush on you.

It was maddening. Every time you smiled at her or even so much as glanced her way, her heart would race—a sensation she would have sworn was impossible for her kind. She had tried everything to make her interest known: sparring sessions where she pushed you to your limits (and a bit beyond), blunt declarations of your 'adequacy' in her eyes, and even offers to 'crush your enemies together in glorious combat'. But somehow, none of it seemed to land.

Instead, you remained oblivious, flashing her that infuriatingly kind smile and treating her like a valued ally rather than someone she desperately wanted to claim as her partner.

One day, during a training session, Lae’zel’s frustration reached its peak. She had you pinned beneath her, her blade at your throat, and instead of fear or admiration, you chuckled.

“Nice move,” you said, your grin wide. “I’ll have to remember that one.”

She grit her teeth and growled, pressing the blade a little closer—not enough to hurt, but enough to make her point.

“You do not take me seriously!” she snapped.

You raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? You’re one of the most serious people I know.”

“Not in battle, fool!” she snarled, pulling back and stalking away, her blade sheathed with a sharp clang, as you walked bewilderdly back to your tent.

From a short distance, Halsin, who had been watching the training with an amused glint in his eye, stepped forward to intercept Lae’zel. She stopped abruptly, glaring at the druid as if daring him to speak.

“Lae’zel,” Halsin said in his calm, measured tone, “may I offer you some advice?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You may offer. I will decide whether it is worth hearing.”

He chuckled, unfazed. “I’ve noticed your… interest in our leader.”

Her nostrils flared, and she crossed her arms. “And what of it?”

“You are a warrior, and I admire your strength,” Halsin began, “but perhaps your methods of courtship are… misplaced.”

“What nonsense is this?” she scoffed. “I have made my intentions clear. I have praised their competence. I have challenged them in combat. What more is required?”

Halsin smiled gently. “Perhaps a softer touch. Words that reveal your feelings without the shield of aggression. A gesture that shows your care rather than your strength.”

Lae’zel looked utterly baffled, as if he had just suggested she surrender to a mind flayer.

“Softness is weakness,” she spat.

“Not always,” Halsin countered. “Sometimes, it takes more strength to be vulnerable than to wield a sword.”

She opened her mouth to retort but found herself at a loss. Instead, she grumbled something unintelligible and stalked off, leaving Halsin shaking his head with a knowing smile.

The next morning, Lae’zel approached you at camp. There was an uncharacteristic stiffness to her posture, as if she were preparing for battle, yet her hands were empty.

“Leader,” she began, her voice clipped but quieter than usual.

You looked up from your map, offering her that same smile that never failed to undo her. “What’s up, Lae’zel?”

She hesitated, the words catching in her throat. For a moment, she considered abandoning this foolishness and returning to her usual methods. But Halsin’s advice echoed in her mind, and she forced herself to continue.

“I… value your presence,” she said, the words sounding foreign and awkward.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Uh, thanks? I value yours too.”

“No, you do not understand,” she snapped, then took a deep breath to steady herself. “I… value you. Your strength. Your wit. Your… idiotic charm.”

Your confusion deepened. “Lae’zel, are you feeling okay?”

She growled in frustration, her hand twitching toward her sword out of habit before she forced it to her side. “Do I need to spell it out for you, fool?”

“Apparently,” you said, still clueless but clearly trying to follow.

She stepped closer, her amber eyes burning into yours. “I desire you, leader. As my equal. My partner. My… lover.”

The words hung in the air, and for the first time, you saw Lae’zel in a new light—not just as a fierce warrior, but as someone deeply passionate and utterly vulnerable in this moment.

“Oh,” you said, the realization dawning on you. “Oh.”

Her jaw tightened, and she crossed her arms defensively. “If you find this amusing, I will—”

“I don’t,” you interrupted, a small smile playing at your lips. “I just didn’t think—well, I didn’t know.”

“Because you are blind,” she muttered, though there was no real venom in her tone.

You stepped closer, reaching out tentatively. “Lae’zel, I’m flattered. Truly. And… I’d like to see where this goes.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she looked as though she didn’t quite believe you. Then, with a sharp nod, she straightened her back and let a rare, genuine smile grace her lips.

“Good,” she said simply. “Now, let us prepare for the day. We have enemies to slay, and I will not let them distract you from what is ours.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, warmth blooming in your chest. Lae’zel might not have mastered the art of softness, but in her own way, she was perfect.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

Shadowheart had always been composed, her expression a careful mask of neutrality, but recently, every time she caught sight of you, her calm façade wavered. Her chest tightened, her thoughts scattered, and her usually sharp words became softer, laced with an uncharacteristic warmth. She knew the truth of it: she had fallen for you. Hard.

And yet, despite her every effort to show you her feelings, you remained utterly oblivious.

At breakfast that morning, Shadowheart decided to take another approach. She brushed past you as you prepared the fire, the faint scent of lavender trailing in her wake.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice soft but laced with what she thought was a hint of allure.

You looked up, smiling warmly. “Morning, Shadowheart. Did you sleep well?”

She nodded, sitting beside you with deliberate closeness. “As well as I could, knowing what awaits us each day. And you?”

“Fine, thanks. Just trying to get this fire going,” you replied, your focus returning to the task at hand.

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a murmur. “You’re very skilled with your hands. It’s… admirable.”

You blinked at her, utterly missing the meaning behind her words. “Thanks! I guess all those years of camping have paid off.”

Her shoulders slumped ever so slightly, but she refused to give up. Throughout the morning, she found small ways to stay near you, brushing her fingers against yours when you handed her something, complimenting you with what she thought was a sultry tone, and even laughing at your jokes—some of which, she had to admit, were terrible.

Still, you seemed completely unaware.

By midday, Shadowheart was frustrated beyond measure. She found Karlach near the edge of camp, inspecting her weapons, and stormed over.

“Karlach,” she said, her tone clipped but tinged with exasperation.

Karlach looked up, her fiery heart pulsing warmly. “What’s up, Shads?”

"Please don't call me that," Shadowheart crossed her arms, her frustration bubbling over. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve been dropping hints—no, practically throwing myself at them, and they just… don’t notice!”

Karlach blinked, then grinned, clearly enjoying the situation more than she should. “Wait, you’re talking about—?”

“Yes,” Shadowheart snapped, her cheeks tinged with pink.

Karlach let out a hearty laugh, her flames flickering slightly brighter. “Oh, this is rich. You? Pining? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Shadowheart glared at her. “This is not amusing. I need advice, not mockery.”

Karlach wiped a tear from her eye, still chuckling. “Alright, alright. Let me think. So, you’ve been… what, flirting?”

“I’ve tried everything,” Shadowheart admitted, throwing her hands in the air. “Compliments, proximity, even subtle touches. And nothing! They treat me the same as everyone else.”

Karlach hummed, tapping a clawed finger against her chin. “Maybe they’re just really dense. Or, y’know, not used to someone as… uh, mysterious as you.”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. “And what do you suggest I do? Write it out in blood on their tent?”

Karlach snorted. “Hey, that might actually work. But no, maybe you need to be more direct. Like, ‘Hey, I think you’re cute, let’s share a bedroll tonight.’”

Shadowheart stared at her, aghast. “I am not saying that.”

“Your loss,” Karlach said with a shrug. “But seriously, just talk to them. Be honest. I bet they’d love it.”

Shadowheart sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Honesty. Of course. The one thing I’ve been avoiding.”

“Hey, they like you for you,” Karlach said, clapping her on the shoulder. “Well, they would if they had half a brain and knew what was good for them. Go get ’em, tiger.”

Later that evening, as you sat by the campfire, Shadowheart approached you with purposeful strides. She was determined to take Karlach’s advice, even if it made her heart pound and her palms sweat.

“Can I join you?” she asked, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.

“Of course,” you said, shifting to make room for her.

She hesitated for a moment, then sat beside you, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

You turned to her, your expression curious but kind. “What is it?”

Shadowheart opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she let out a shaky breath and looked into the fire.

“I… I care about you,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, completely misunderstanding. “I care about you too, Shadowheart. You’re a great friend.”

She groaned inwardly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, I mean I care about you in a… different way.”

Realization dawned on your face, your eyes widening. “Oh.”

“Oh?” she echoed, feeling both vulnerable and absurdly exposed.

“I didn’t—Shadowheart, I had no idea,” you said, your voice filled with genuine surprise and warmth.

“I noticed,” she muttered, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

You reached out, gently placing a hand on hers. “I’m sorry if I’ve been clueless. I guess I just… never thought someone like you would feel that way about someone like me.”

She looked at you, her expression softening. “And why wouldn’t I? You’re… remarkable.”

The sincerity in her voice made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Well, I guess that makes two of us, then.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “You… feel the same?”

“Yeah,” you said, your cheeks flushing. “I guess I was just waiting for a sign.”

Shadowheart laughed softly, the sound lighter than you’d ever heard from her. “Apparently, I need to be less subtle.”

As the fire crackled between you, the tension that had been simmering for so long finally gave way to something warmer, something real. And for the first time in weeks, Shadowheart felt at peace.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

Jaheira was not a woman who pined. Or so she told herself. A High Harper, disciplined and pragmatic, she had weathered countless battles and heartbreaks. Yet, here she was, sneaking glances at you across camp, her chest tightening whenever you smiled or laughed. It was maddening. How had you managed to worm your way so deeply into her thoughts?

Despite her years of wisdom, Jaheira found herself at a loss. She didn’t know how to bridge the gap between the two of you, not without risking her pride or the delicate balance of your group.

The worst part was your complete and utter obliviousness. She’d tried subtlety—lingering conversations, offering you extra help with tactics, even sharing stories of her youth that she told no one else. You simply smiled warmly, thanked her, and went about your day as though her heart hadn’t been laid bare in every word.

One evening, after another frustrating day of yearning and getting nowhere, Astarion finally had enough.

“Jaheira, darling, may I have a word?” Astarion said, sidling up to her as she sharpened her blade near the fire.

“What do you want, Astarion?” she asked, her tone brusque.

He smirked, clearly unbothered by her irritation. “Oh, nothing much. Just to offer my… expert services in matters of the heart.”

Jaheira blinked, her sharpening stone pausing mid-stroke. “What are you talking about?”

Astarion gestured dramatically toward you, where you sat chatting animatedly with Karlach. “I’m talking about your obvious pining for our dear leader. It’s positively tragic to watch.”

Jaheira’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly turned back to her blade. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, please,” Astarion said, rolling his eyes. “You practically glow whenever they’re around. It’s adorable, really. But I must say, your approach could use some… finesse.”

Jaheira scowled at him. “I am not some lovesick fool, and I certainly don’t need advice from a vampire with more charm than sense.”

“Perhaps not,” Astarion said, unfazed. “But consider this: have your current tactics worked? Have they so much as noticed your affection?”

Jaheira’s silence was answer enough.

“I thought so,” Astarion said smugly. “Now, listen closely. You need to be bold. Direct. Use your natural charisma and authority to your advantage. And if all else fails, a little flirtation never hurt anyone.”

Jaheira narrowed her eyes. “I am not a charlatan like you, Astarion. I won’t lower myself to cheap tricks.”

“Who said anything about cheap tricks?” Astarion replied, feigning offense. “Think of it as… a strategic maneuver. After all, you wouldn’t hesitate to outwit an enemy in battle, would you?”

Jaheira sighed, considering his words. As much as she hated to admit it, he wasn’t entirely wrong. “Fine. I’ll listen. But if this backfires, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”

“Splendid,” Astarion said, clapping his hands together. “Now, let’s start with a little more confidence in your approach…”

The next morning, you noticed something strange about Jaheira. She was… different.

She approached you with a faint smile that seemed just a touch too practiced, her movements deliberate and graceful in a way that reminded you of someone else.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice smooth and measured. “Did you sleep well?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah. I did. And you?”

“Perfectly,” she replied, her eyes lingering on you in a way that felt… odd. “Though I couldn’t help but think of our conversation from yesterday. You truly have a fascinating mind.”

You tilted your head, trying to piece together what was happening. Something about her tone, her body language—it was familiar. And then it hit you.

“Wait a minute,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “Why are you acting like Astarion?”

Jaheira froze, her carefully crafted façade slipping for just a moment. “I… what?”

“You’re doing the thing he does,” you said, mimicking a dramatic hand gesture. “The suave, overly charming thing. It’s not like you.”

Jaheira’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly turned away, muttering something under her breath.

From across camp, Astarion burst into laughter, doubling over as he clutched his stomach. “Oh, this is too good!”

Jaheira shot him a withering glare before turning back to you, her expression softening. “Perhaps I’ve been… trying too hard. Forgive me if I seemed unlike myself.”

You smiled, your warmth cutting through her frustration. “You don’t need to try so hard, Jaheira. I like you just as you are.”

Her breath caught, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. Then, with a small, genuine smile, she nodded. “Thank you. That means… more than you know.”

As she walked away, Astarion approached, still grinning. “Well, that could have gone better, but at least they noticed you.”

Jaheira shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Never again, Astarion. Never again.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The late afternoon sun hung low, painting the riverside in warm golds and soft shadows. Gale, waist-deep in the cool water, had his arms crossed in front of him as if the sheer act of holding himself together could quell the maelstrom of feelings raging inside. His crush on you was a storm that refused to abate, leaving him with sleepless nights and days filled with longing glances.

From the riverbank, Minthara watched him with a look of abject irritation. Minthara had ordered him to take a dip in the cold water after he had decided to unleash his love-filled ranting unto her ears as they collected water. She assured him she would be fine to take the water back by herself, and when he thought she had left he keenly stripped and waded into the water. But Minthara had not left, no, Gale's lovesick demeanor had created a vendetta against her and she decided to take action.

"Pathetic," she muttered under her breath. She didn’t think it was possible for wizards to get worse, but Gale was proving her wrong. With a smirk, she moved silently to where Gale had left his clothes folded neatly on a nearby rock. With the swift efficiency of a seasoned tactician, she gathered them up and strode back toward camp.

You were enjoying a moment of quiet when Minthara approached, holding a bundle of robes in her arms.

"The wizard is by the river," she said bluntly. "It seems he’s in need of assistance."

You frowned, glancing at the clothing. "Assistance? With what?"

Minthara’s lips quirked into a thin smile. "He appears… indisposed. Perhaps you should go and see for yourself."

Before you could ask more, she tossed the robes into the fire and strode away, leaving you thoroughly puzzled but intrigued. You could have sworn those were Gale's. With haste, you made your way towards the river and when you arrived at the riverbank, you called out, "Gale? Everything alright?"

Gale startled, his head whipping around to face you, his hair slicked back and glistening in the sunlight. Clearly he had been searching for his robes. "Ah, no! I mean, yes—yes, everything’s fine!"

You raised a brow, stepping closer to the water’s edge. "Are you sure? Minthara said you needed help."

At the mention of her name, Gale groaned. "Of course, she did. And I suppose she also absconded with my robes?" He shot a wary glance toward the shore, clearly trying to maintain some distance.

"Unfortunately so. What’s going on?" you asked, scanning the area. Then you noticed the way his face burned red, his expression a mix of embarrassment and frustration. "Why are you still in the water? It’s getting late. and the river's current is about to pick up, you need to get out, now."

He hesitated, his fingers flexing nervously beneath the water’s surface. "It’s… complicated."

"Complicated how?" You looked around, spotting no immediate danger apart from the increasing current. "Do you need a hand getting out? I can lend you my cloak."

"You don’t understand!" Gale blurted, his voice cracking slightly. "This isn’t about the cold—or the current. It’s…" He trailed off, visibly warring with himself.

You tilted your head, curious and slightly amused. "Then what is it about? You’re not exactly making it easy to help you."

Gale sighed deeply, sinking a little lower into the water until only his nose and eyes peeked out. Then, in a low, hurried tone, he confessed, "I’m afraid my feelings for you have… manifested in a rather inconvenient manner."

Your brow furrowed. "Feelings for me?"

"Yes!" Gale said, his voice growing more desperate. "Feelings. Strong feelings—romantic, longing, entirely improper feelings for someone as… exceptional as you."

You blinked, the weight of his words settling over you like the warmth of the setting sun. "You—wait. You like me?"

"Yes," he muttered, his face practically steaming despite the cool water. "Which is precisely why I can’t leave this river at the moment."

The realization dawned slowly, but when it clicked, a grin spread across your face. "Oh," you said, fighting back laughter. "Oh."

"Yes," Gale grumbled, his mortification complete. "You see now why this is problematic."

You couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped. "So, let me get this straight. You’re saying your feelings are… visible at the moment?"

Gale pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you insist on phrasing it that way, then yes."

You laughed harder, the sound bright and unrestrained. "Gale, that’s not the end of the world."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered. "You’re not the one at risk of a compromising exit."

Still laughing, you crouched by the water’s edge, your cloak in hand. "Come on. I promise I’ll look the other way. Just wrap this around your waist - tightly, and let’s get you back to camp."

Gale hesitated, clearly torn between his pride and the practicality of your offer. The river was rising, and the current becoming less forgiving. He didn't know what would be worse, coming out in this state or having to have you rescue him whilst he was in this condition. Finally, he sighed. "You’re infuriatingly kind, you know that?"

"Only to people I like," you teased, winking at him.

That earned you a small, genuine smile, despite his predicament. Slowly, cautiously, he edged closer to the shore, his blush never fading. You diligently kept your eyes closed, but there was that little devil inside you willing you to take a peak. He wrapped the cloak around his waist, only for you to hear a small, defeated sigh.

"You cannot laugh at me, but please may I request that I carry your shoes back to camp?" He asked, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Wow you must really like me-"

"-The shoes please!"

Still giggling to yourself, you took off your shoes and passed them to him, allowing him to use them as a shield to his nether region.

You were finally able to look at him, his cheeks flushed beet red as he murmured, "I am going to kill Minthara, or at least try to."

"You know, Gale, I think Minthara might have done us both a favor."

Gale groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Never speak of this again. And especially do not encourage her behaviour."

"No promises," you said with a grin, walking beside him as you both headed back to camp. "Perhaps, I might want to get caught short with you."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

Astarion was not accustomed to being ignored, least of all by someone who had managed to captivate him so thoroughly. Yet here you were, brushing off his every flirtation, every lingering glance, every word dripping with a charm that could make others fall at his feet.

You were different, infuriatingly so. Every smirk, every sly compliment, every touch of his hand to your arm was met with a polite laugh, a nod, or—worse—a casual thanks before you moved on as though he hadn’t just thrown his best seductive lines at you.

For someone like Astarion, whose every move had been meticulously calculated for centuries, this was unbearable. He was practically seething with frustration as he watched you across the camp, laughing at something Karlach had said. He sighed dramatically, slumping onto a nearby log, the perfect picture of a man whose heart was in shambles.

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand why you might be cautious around him. He wasn’t blind to his own past or the scars it had left on his soul. But this? This obliviousness wasn’t caution—it was sheer ignorance of his very obvious yearning.

And so, out of options and desperately needing help, he did something he never thought he would: he sought out Gale.

Gale was sitting by the fire, absently flipping through his spellbook, when Astarion approached him. The vampire’s usual smirk was replaced with something that looked suspiciously like a grimace.

“Gale,” Astarion began, his voice unusually subdued.

Gale looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Astarion? To what do I owe this… peculiar honor?”

Astarion waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, spare me the preamble. I need your help.”

“My help?” Gale blinked. “What kind of apocalyptic disaster requires my assistance? Surely not something involving a certain someone we both know?”

Astarion’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes. Them.”

Gale set his book down, his interest piqued. “Ah, I see. You’re pining.”

“I am not pining,” Astarion snapped, though the blush creeping up his pale cheeks betrayed him. “I am… strategically pursuing. Subtly, I might add.”

Gale snorted. “If by subtle, you mean utterly transparent, then yes. You’ve been as subtle as a fireball in a wheat field.”

Astarion scowled. “They don’t see it that way. They think I’m just… charming. Which, of course, I am, but there’s more to it than that.”

“And you want my advice?” Gale leaned back, crossing his arms. “Me, the man you’ve spent weeks mocking for my ‘tragic romanticism’?”

“Yes, yes, revel in the irony if you must,” Astarion said impatiently. “But you’re annoyingly good- most of the time, at all this grand gesture nonsense, and clearly, I need a new approach.”

Gale chuckled, a little too pleased with himself. “All right. Let’s see. The key here is sincerity. You can’t just charm your way through this one. You have to show them how you feel.”

Astarion frowned. “And how exactly do I do that?”

“Think of something meaningful to them,” Gale suggested. “An act that demonstrates you understand them, that you care about them deeply. And,” he added with a smirk, “maybe tone down the smirking and innuendo for five minutes.”

The next day, Astarion put Gale’s advice into action—or at least, his version of it. You were sitting by the riverbank, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when Astarion approached you, holding something behind his back.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, his tone softer than usual.

You smiled up at him. “What’s up, Astarion?”

“I, uh… I noticed something the other day.” He cleared his throat, looking uncharacteristically awkward. “You mentioned how much you missed those silly little biscuits from Baldur’s Gate, the ones with the sugar glaze.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I did?”

“Yes, you did,” he said quickly. “And, well… here.” He produced a carefully wrapped package and handed it to you. Inside were a handful of the biscuits, slightly crumbled but still intact.

Your eyes widened. “How did you…?”

“Don’t ask questions,” he said, his smirk creeping back despite his best efforts. “Just enjoy them.”

You looked up at him, touched by the gesture but still utterly oblivious to the deeper meaning. “Thanks, Astarion. That’s really sweet of you.”

He stared at you for a moment, waiting for something—anything—to click. When it didn’t, he sighed dramatically and flopped onto the grass beside you.

“Are you truly this dense, my beautiful fool?” he muttered under his breath.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” he said, flashing you a too-bright smile. “Enjoy your biscuits, darling.”

From a distance, Gale watched the exchange with a shake of his head, muttering, “Some people are beyond help.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

Wyll was not used to being ignored, especially when it came to matters of the heart. He prided himself on his charm, his courtly manners, and his ability to woo with a single smile. Yet, when it came to you, all his gentlemanly gestures seemed to bounce right off you like a deflected blade.

He would offer you his hand to help you over rough terrain, only to receive a simple "Thanks, Wyll!" and a cheerful pat on his shoulder. He’d bring you breakfast, perfectly arranged, and you’d compliment him on his “team spirit.” He’d even tried a few subtler lines, but you always brushed them off as his natural charisma, as if his feelings weren’t entirely focused on you.

So, after one particularly frustrating evening where you didn’t even notice how his gaze lingered on you by the firelight, Wyll decided he needed help.

And who better to consult than the camp’s most direct and fearless member, Lae’zel?

Lae’zel was sharpening her sword when Wyll approached, his usual confident demeanor slightly crumpled under the weight of his unspoken affection. She glanced up, her sharp eyes narrowing.

“Wyll,” she said bluntly, “you look as though you’ve swallowed a blade sideways. Spit it out.”

He cleared his throat, glancing around to make sure no one else was in earshot. “It’s about… them,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lae’zel’s expression didn’t change. “Ah, the object of your obsession.”

Wyll winced. “It’s not an obsession.”

“Call it what you will,” she said, shrugging. “You pine for them like a fledgling seeking a mate. What of it?”

“I don’t know how to… tell them,” Wyll confessed, his usual eloquence failing him. “They seem entirely immune to my advances.”

Lae’zel snorted. “Perhaps because your ‘advances’ are weak. Soft. You dote on them like a mother hen, not a warrior. If you want their attention, you must assert dominance.”

“Assert dominance?” Wyll repeated, looking increasingly alarmed.

“Yes,” Lae’zel said firmly. “Challenge them. Best them in combat. Show them your strength. Then, when they are weak and trembling, you proclaim your intent to claim them as yours.”

Wyll’s face turned scarlet. “That’s—That’s not how courtship works!”

“Of course it is,” Lae’zel said, waving a dismissive hand. “You prove your physical and sexual prowess through battle. What better way to ensure compatibility?”

Wyll sputtered, his composure unraveling. “I—I don’t think they’d appreciate being ‘claimed’ like a prize after a fight.”

“They would respect it,” Lae’zel insisted. “And likely find it arousing.”

“Lae’zel!” Wyll’s voice cracked, and he buried his face in his hands, his flames of embarrassment rivaling Karlach’s.

From across the camp, you noticed the commotion and Wyll’s obvious distress. Concerned, you got up and made your way over. “Wyll? Are you okay?”

Lae’zel’s smirk widened as Wyll’s blush deepened. He scrambled to his feet, fumbling for words. “Ah—Yes! Fine! Everything is fine!”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of them. “Are you sure? You look like you’ve just lost a sparring match.”

Before Lae’zel could open her mouth to make things infinitely worse, Wyll quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you aside.

“Just a minor… disagreement,” he said quickly, his voice cracking again. “Nothing to worry about.”

You gave him a curious look, but his obvious flustered state distracted you from pressing further. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

Lae’zel watched you go with Wyll, shaking her head and muttering, “Coward. They would have respected a proper duel.”

Meanwhile, Wyll was doing his best to calm his racing heart and come up with a less mortifying way to tell you how he felt—ideally without Lae’zel’s "help."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

Halsin prided himself on his control, his connection to nature, and his ability to remain grounded in even the most chaotic of circumstances. But when it came to you, all of that composure seemed to dissolve like frost under the morning sun.

You were utterly magnetic to him—your presence so compelling that his heart would stutter every time you entered the same space. He found himself enchanted by the curve of your smile, the warmth in your voice, the kindness in your touch. And it was unbearable. Literally, because every time you touched his arm or leaned in to speak to him, his instincts would flare wildly out of control.

The first time it happened, you’d brushed some stray leaves off his shoulder after he returned from foraging. “Halsin, you’ve brought back half the forest,” you joked, smiling up at him.

Halsin opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a rush of heat overtook him, and— bam—he was suddenly a large, startled elk.

You jumped back with a yelp of surprise, staring wide-eyed at the animal in front of you. “Halsin?”

The elk gave a deep snort, its head hanging low as if mortified.

It happened again not long after, when you touched his hand while passing him a flask of water. This time, he transformed into a wolf, looking up at you with ears pinned back, practically radiating sheepishness.

“Halsin,” you laughed, kneeling down to scratch behind his ears, “you’ve got to warn me if you’re going to do that.”

By the time the third accidental wildshape happened—this time as a squirrel after you had simply smiled at him—Jaheira had had enough.

The older druid cornered Halsin after dinner, arms crossed and an unimpressed look on her face. “You’re a leader, Halsin. A figure of strength and wisdom. Yet here you are, hiding in fur and feathers because of a crush.”

“It’s not just a crush,” Halsin muttered, his deep voice unusually uncertain. “It’s… consuming. Every time I try to speak to them, I lose myself. They are radiant, Jaheira. I can hardly stand near them without—”

“—turning into livestock, yes,” Jaheira interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re a druid, not a child. Get a grip, Halsin. They won’t notice your feelings unless you make them clear. And for the love of Silvanus, do it without shifting.”

Halsin sighed heavily but nodded. “You’re right. I must face this head-on.”

Jaheira clapped him on the shoulder. “Good. Now go before you sprout wings or something ridiculous.”

Halsin found you sitting by the campfire, a jar of honey and a piece of bread in your hands. The firelight danced across your features, and Halsin felt his heart thrum painfully in his chest.

“Is everything okay, Halsin?” you asked, looking up at him with a concerned smile.

Halsin cleared his throat, forcing himself to remain steady. “Yes, I… there is something I need to tell you.”

You tilted your head, some honey glistening on your lips. “Of course. What is it?”

And that was it. The sight of your lips, the gentle curve of your expression—it was too much. Despite every ounce of willpower he had summoned, Halsin’s body betrayed him. With a flash of light and a muffled groan, he was suddenly a massive brown bear, sitting heavily on the ground.

You blinked, staring at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Halsin! You did it again!”

From across the camp, Jaheira let out a long, exasperated groan, throwing her hands up. “I give up!” she muttered, stalking off.

The bear lowered its massive head, letting out a low huff of frustration. You reached over and gently placed a hand on his fur.

“It’s okay, big guy,” you said, grinning. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

If Halsin could have blushed, he would have. Instead, he let you pet him, resigning himself to the fact that his feelings were much harder to control than he’d ever anticipated.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was so so so so so much fun to write !! Especially Gale's icl hehehe. Hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[galactic-magick]

I Love You, I'm Sorry: Viktor x Reader

Based off of this reply on my last Viktor fic:

@lillycore : Duddee, imagine after the final scene between Viktor and Jayce they just disappear (I refuse to believe they both died, I’m just going believe, until it’s confirmed, that they simply teleported somewhere else), leaving reader alone without a chance to confront Viktor and believing they both died. So now, reader is left to pick up the pieces of her closest friend and love of her life gone, while believing Viktor no longer loves her (he does though, he was just a little confused with everything, but he still loves her)

Words: 1.2k

Author's Notes: Thank you all so much for the notes and kind words on my last Viktor fic, it truly means the world to me as a writer to see so many people touched by my writing. I hope you enjoy this equally devastating part 2.

They’re gone. They’re really gone.

No family, no friends, not a single loved one of yours survived this damn war. All this world has done is take, take, take.

You’re haunted by the last time you saw your beloved Viktor—completely unrecognizable. He had turned himself into a monster, disappearing with Jayce trying to save him. You didn’t even get to say goodbye, you didn’t even get to tell him you still love him.

Or ask if he still loved you.

You don’t know what would hurt less, believing he stopped loving you, or believing he did everything he did while loving you.

-

“Why can’t she hear me?” Viktor shouts into the void. He’s been calling your name for what feels like an eternity, his voice no longer carrying to your world.

Jayce puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, “You don’t have vessels to speak through anymore. She probably thinks we’re dead. Well, maybe we are…”

“No, no, this can’t be the end,” Viktor shakes his head vigorously. “I have to get back to her. She...she needs to know I love her. She needs to know I’m sorry.”

He falls to his knees amongst the stars, cursing himself for everything. How could he choose the hexcore over you? Why didn’t he seek you out when he survived the explosion? How did he let himself descend so far into madness that he forgot about your importance to him?

He’s now desperate for you to hear him, pleading the forces that bind his consciousness to this astral plane for another chance. He searches this dimension he’s come to know so well, looking for a loophole or tear in the fabric, but it’s no use. Everything has been closed—his supposed eternal consequence for his abuse of power.

Jayce saved him from himself, a feat he will forever be indebted to him for, but what is the point of redemption if he cannot live it out in his own flesh?

Would there have been a body left for him anyway? Would you still have loved him as the monstrosity he became?

Why must he still be cursed with the full vision of the universe? He sees you continue your life so clearly, but he can’t touch you, can’t speak to you. Your form shines the brightest light he’s ever seem in this dimension, an achievement that is not easily matched. He wonders if you can feel him reaching out to you, some sort of spiritual pull back to him. He will do anything to find a way to talk to you again.

-

You’ve been having dreams—dreams you can’t explain. Ever since Viktor’s disappearance, he’s tormented you day and night, constantly occupying your thoughts without mercy. You can hear his voice, but it sounds so far away you can never make out the words. You just wish it would all stop. You wish you could just erase him and all of the pain from your memory.

Sometimes you still feel a presence, the feeling you used to feel when he was in the same vicinity with you, admiring you from across a room. It’s a familiar warmth that used to wash you with peace, whereas now it makes your heart ache. You suppose it’s a normal symptom of grief, subconsciously denying that he’s really gone.

You start to go through his things he left at your house, beginning with his various textbooks and notebooks he would bring over for studying. Seeing his scribbles and handwriting again brings tears to your eyes, a single drop falling onto the paper as you read.

You blink a few times, seeing a couple of letters on the page start to glow. You must be seeing things, hallucinating from sleep deprivation. You close the journal and open it again, but the glowing letters are still there.

You grab a separate piece of paper and write down each glowing letter, finding fifteen total.

“I - L-O-V-E - Y-O-U - I-M - S-O-R-R-Y”

This isn’t happening. It can’t be.

-

“It’s working! She got my message!” Viktor exclaims.

“How...how are you doing that?” Jayce asks.

“Tiny rips in space—not big enough for either of us to escape through—but certainly big enough to briefly touch that reality,” Viktor pauses, still waiting for a response from you, but it doesn’t come.

-

You close the journal and sob, praying for an end to this misery. Your mind is playing tricks on you, deceiving you to a level you never thought possible. Must you be haunted by this forever? Must you endure the aftermath of this trauma?

You open it once again, the letters still glowing, but they start to fade right in front of your eyes. A new set of letters begin to glow, so you write those down as well.

“I-T-S - M-E - D-A-R-L-I-N-G”

And then another set of letters.

“P-L-E-A-S-E - T-A-L-K - T-O - M-E”

Maybe you’re not imagining.

You’ve heard of magicians who can converse with the dead, and the possibility of other dimensional planes and universes. Viktor himself had some theories about it, although he never pursued proving them. Could it really be possible that your beloved was speaking to you?

“Viktor?” you say out loud. “Are you...are you alive?”

“I - D-O-N-T - K-N-O-W”

The pencil drops from your hand again as your head falls to the table. His consciousness is somehow alive, clearly, but there’s no way he can explain to you where he is and how to get him out one letter at a time. You’re nowhere near his level of intellect—even if he explained how to rescue him like you’re five years old—you fear you still would mess something up.

“Viktor...I can’t do this. You can’t do this to me,” you sigh, daring to look at the words again. “You abandoned me, and now my life is a living hell because of the destruction you helped cause. I want nothing to do with your war and stupid glorious evolution. So if you’re not here to take me away from this life, please go away.”

The same original words start glowing again, brighter each time they sequence:

I love you, I’m sorry.

I love you, I’m sorry.

I love you, I’m sorry.

“Love doesn’t do what you did. Love doesn’t abandon its humanity for power.”

Please forgive me.

“I do forgive you for everything, Viktor. That’s exactly why I need to forget about you, because I will never stop loving you and hurting for it if I don’t.”

With blurry eyes, you close the journal and throw it into the fireplace, regretting it almost immediately. You grab a stick and pull it out, your tears falling onto the soot-stained cover.

“Please, just...find a way back to me.”

I will.

[froggiewrites]

hello i wanted to request a comfort fic with Law,Zoro and Sanji with their s/o being depressed,stressed

thanks in advance

Hi, sorry this took so long! This is the first time I've written a few smaller scenarios instead of one larger fic and I've gotta say, I really enjoyed it. It was a nice change of pace! So thank you for requesting this 😊 I hope this fic brings you the comfort you need, and that you're doing well!!

Hard Times

Pairing: Law, Zoro, Sanji x Reader

SFW

Summary: You've not been yourself lately, and he's been worried about you. Warnings: Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff Word Count: 1.7k total (a little over 500 each)

It didn’t take him long to notice something was wrong. There was a subtle change in you, something a less observant man would have missed. But you always had his attention, and he knew you well. You were a bit slower to respond, your eyes a bit unfocused, your smile less bright. He tried to tell himself it was nothing, that you were just a bit tired, but after the third time of finding you in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, he knew that you needed some more support. He was more than happy to be that support.

Law

Law is a deeply caring man, despite his attempts to appear otherwise, but he is also, unfortunately, terrible at showing it. So he doesn’t talk to you about it, not directly. He instead racks his brain, thinking of every possible way to reduce stress and ways to treat depression. His instinct is to opt for medicine, but he knows he should start smaller first.

“I have a gift for you.” He places it in your hands unceremoniously, trying to hide his delight at your small smile. That’s the most joy you’ve shown in days.

“Thank you, Law! That’s really sweet of you.” You carefully peel back the wrapping paper he had spent far more time than he would admit on, only for your face to show confusion. “A…lamp?”

“A UV lamp.” He says it as though the purpose is obvious.

“Okay?”

“It mimics sunlight.”

You blink at him. “I–you didn’t clarify anything.”

He shifts on his feet, eyes focusing anywhere but you. “We’re down on the seafloor a lot, so you can’t always go on deck for sunlight. And I think some sun will help you.”

Your eyes narrow as you try to put the pieces together. “Why?”

“Sunlight boosts serotonin production.”

You make a soft sound of understanding, before you give him a smirk he would normally hate to admit made his heart skip a beat. “You were worried about me.” You say it like it’s such a victory, like it isn’t something you expected. Clearly he had failed you somehow, if you thought he wasn’t always fretting about you. He typically tries to deny such things, the vulnerability making him feel unsure and small, but you were worth feeling a little weak.

“Of course I was worried about you.” He spits it, like it was so very obvious, and you laugh at him. Normally he would prickle, his defenses growing higher, but that’s the first time he’s heard you laugh in over a week. He would never admit the sound brought a tear to his eye, the relief tearing through him like a hurricane. He can’t help shifting forward, his hands cupping your cheeks as he checks to see if you’ve regained the sparkle in your eyes. It’s dim, but it’s there. He can’t resist kissing you.

You accept his warmth quickly and easily. You practically fall into his arms, nuzzling into his neck when your lips part. “You don’t have to worry. I can handle it. It always passes eventually.”

He sighs, kissing the top of your head. “Just because you can handle it on your own doesn’t mean you have to. You aren’t alone in this. You have me. You have the crew. We’re here for you, whatever you need, whenever you need it.”

Your voice comes out much quieter this time. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You aren’t.”

“...You promise you’d tell me if I was?”

He chuckles. “I promise.” He gently takes the lamp out of your hand, places it on your desk, and guides you to your bed. “Now tell me everything you need to get off your chest.”

And, to his relief, you do.

Zoro 

Zoro is blunt. He doesn’t know how to dance around your feelings, and frankly, he doesn’t care to. The faster he breaks through your reluctance to tell him what you need, the faster he can help you, and the faster you’ll be happy.

“Why aren’t you asking for help?”

You jump, not having heard him come in, too busy struggling to ground yourself. “What?”

“Something’s wrong. Why haven’t you come to ask for help?” He’s still dripping with sweat, having just come from a particularly intensive workout that was a failed attempt to distract himself until you finally broke and came to him. He can see you try to avoid his eye, so he gently grabs your chin and steers you toward him. He tries to make his voice gentle, sweet in a way he can never quite nail. “Sweetheart, talk to me. I just want to understand.”

You still avoid looking straight at him, even now, but you finally speak. “I…didn’t want to be a burden.”

He can’t hide his obvious confusion. “Huh?”

You finally look at him, not understanding his reaction. “What?”

“Who cares if you’re a burden for a while?”

You look shocked, “I do!”

“Okay, well no one else does! Everyone is a burden sometimes. No one can do everything on their own. The crew’s job is to help each other.”

“None of you guys have ever been a burden.”

“Were we not a burden, or were you just happy to help?”

You open your mouth to argue again, but he can see the exact moment you realize you really have nothing you can say. You can’t deny helping your crew has sometimes made your life harder. He’s seen it countless times. Your Captain alone has gotten you into dozens of situations you could hardly think about without wincing. But you were always happy to help, and a burden shared is a burden halved.

“Everyone here is happy to help you if you need it. All avoiding us does is make us worry.”

You seem to shrink in on yourself. “I’m sorry.”

He pulls you close, chuckling a little at the discontented noise you make when you realize he’s still sweaty. You squirm halfheartedly, but it doesn’t take long before you snuggle into his warmth. He can feel the muscles in your back slowly start to relax under his hands as you accept his touch. “No need for apologies, sweetheart. Just fix it. Talk about it.”

You hold him tight. “I don’t know exactly what I need. Everything’s just…hard. I don’t remember it always being this hard.”

He tries to ignore the way his heart breaks at how pained you sound. He instead focuses on the positives: you’re here, you’re talking, and you’re willing to accept help if it comes. “It won’t be this hard forever. I’ll be right here to make it a little easier, alright? And you can talk to Chopper for some help, too.”

“...Do you think I should?”

“I think that’s up to you. But we’re here. That’s what matters.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon in Zoro’s arms, and if he sees you sneaking to Chopper’s office later, he doesn’t mention it, though his relieved smile might give him away.

Sanji

Sanji is very in tune with your emotions, often realizing you’re upset before anyone else, and sometimes even before you register it yourself. It’s not uncommon for him to suddenly appear, food and drink in hand, ready to pamper you to your (or, maybe more accurately, his) heart’s content. So you don’t seem to suspect a thing when he starts setting up picnics for you on the deck, each dish carefully prepared to boost serotonin production and the drinks designed to reduce stress and anxiety. You’ve probably had more chamomile tea in the past few weeks than you’ve ever had in your life. 

He sets up the picnic blanket in the perfect location: enough room in the shade for you to rest if you get too hot, but positioned in a way that encourages you to soak up the sun. As you eat, he oh-so-subtly encourages you to talk, maintains skin on skin contact as much as he can, and observes everything he can to improve the next one.

You sit blankly for a while, letting him do as he pleases but not reciprocating, before you finally speak, your voice much flatter than usual. “Sanji?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Why are you doing this?”

He freezes. “Why am I doing what, angel?”

You shift in his arms, forcing him to look you in the eye as you do so. He can’t help but brush a stray crumb off of your cheek, his thumb tracing down to your jaw. You gently catch his hand in your own, squeezing it. “These picnics aren’t just little dates, are they, Sanji? Something is clearly wrong.”

He doesn’t know how to explain he’s worried about you without you feeling pressured to speak. He doesn’t want to push you if you aren’t ready, but he can’t stand to sit by and watch as you drown in your own head. “I–do you have anything you want to talk about?”

“What?”

“You haven’t been yourself lately. I just thought…you could use something like this.”

You seem to relax a bit. “So you’ve been worried about me?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to push you, but you clearly need some help, darling. I was hoping I could make this a bit easier for you.”

You give him a real smile for the first time in a while. “Is this why you’ve been sneaking me so many little treats? And why you’ve been so desperate to keep me away from caffeine?”

He tries not to flush. “I thought you could use a pick-me-up. And I read getting better sleep can help with mood.” He pulls you closer, pressing your face into his neck to hide his redness from you. “I was hoping it’d make talking about whatever’s wrong a little easier for you.”

You snuggle into him, accepting your warmth. “Talking about it is always hard. Everything is, right now.”

“Are you willing to try? I think it might help.”

He can feel your sigh. Your reluctance. But slowly, carefully, you unfurl the tension you’re holding, and you allow him to carry some of your burdens for you. You talk for hours, about everything, including things you were clearly frightened to speak aloud. By the end, you may not be perfectly happy again, but he can see your steps are a little lighter. He’s never been more relieved.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

[trulyumai]

to expect more from him

—pairing: Emperor Geta / Wife! Reader

—synopsis: you ask geta of his priorities and where his wife and unborn child rank in his world. are you truly surprised of the answer?

—warnings: geta being a dick, light angst.

—a/n: im back baaaaabyyyyy!!

The flicker of candlelight was the only illumination in the room, casting dancing shadows across the walls. You lay curled against Geta’s side, his arm wrapped around you, his fingers tracing slow, soothing patterns along your skin. It was a rare moment of peace, one that you had come to cherish amidst the chaos that always seemed to swirl around him.

His warmth enveloped you, the steady rhythm of his breath a comforting lullaby. There was a quietness between you, the kind that spoke volumes, and for a while, you allowed yourself to simply exist in it. This was the man you had once loved—before the weight of the crown, before the bloodshed and politics consumed him.

You closed your eyes, pressing your cheek into the firm expanse of his chest, feeling the quiet thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. You were at peace here. But a question had been gnawing at the edges of your mind all evening, and it wouldn’t let go.

“Geta,” you whispered softly, your voice breaking the silence. His fingers paused their gentle movements as he turned his attention to you, his hand resting on your back as he gazed down at you.

You took a slow, steadying breath. “If it came to it... would you choose me and the child over Rome?”

He froze. For a moment, the air between you thickened. The question hung in the space between you, heavier than anything either of you had ever dared to address. His eyes, sharp and calculating, flickered with surprise, and a quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest—a sound that was all too familiar, but now felt strangely hollow.

He let out a light, almost mocking laugh. “You think I would ever choose between you and Rome?” His voice was playful, but there was an edge to it, a condescension that was unmistakable. “I’ve built an empire, wife. I’ve fought, bled, and sacrificed for it. I can’t just walk away from it. From everything I’ve worked for.” His words were sharp, as though he were trying to convince not only you but himself as well.

You felt a chill settle in your chest. His laughter, meant to dismiss your question, stung more than you could have anticipated. You pulled back slightly, looking at him with a mixture of hurt and disbelief. “So, you would really choose Rome over your family?” Your voice trembled slightly, but you held his gaze, searching for any hint of the man you once knew.

The flicker of something darker passed over his face, but it quickly faded as he leaned back, a half-smile playing on his lips. “You know what Rome demands of me,” he said, his tone suddenly cold and detached. “You’ve always known.”

“Yes, I’ve known,” you said softly, a pang of sorrow twisting in your chest. “But I never thought you’d laugh at the idea of choosing your family. Us. Over it all.”

His gaze shifted, a sudden shift in his demeanor as he took a deep breath. “You think Rome will fall without me?” He laughed again, but this time there was something darker behind it. “It’s not that simple, sweetling. I’ve come too far to just turn my back on everything.”

You stared at him, your heart aching, the sense of loss settling deep inside you. He wasn’t the man you remembered. The man who had once promised you a future, the man who swore to protect you and your unborn child. Now, all you could see was the emperor, the mask of duty and power consuming him more and more with each passing day.

“That’s the problem,” you said quietly, your voice trembling now. “I don’t want to be a second thought to Rome. I don’t want to be your duty. I want to be your choice.” You paused, letting the weight of your words hang in the air. “But if you’re already making it clear that Rome will always come first, then maybe I should stop pretending that this is enough.”

For a moment, Geta didn’t respond. His expression had shifted—no longer playful, no longer cold—but instead filled with something you couldn’t quite place. Guilt, perhaps. Or confusion.

“I—” he began, his voice rough with emotion, but then stopped. His eyes softened, his earlier bravado faltering under the weight of your question.

“Do you think I don’t want to choose you?” he finally said, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. “Do you think I don’t see what we could have? What we should have? I’ve sacrificed too much for Rome, for this throne… I don’t know if I could walk away from it.”

You didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed at his words. At least now, there was no more pretense. At least now, he was being honest with you.

But that honesty brought no comfort, no certainty. “Then we’re not the same,” you whispered, your heart breaking. “Because if it were me, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

A long silence passed before Geta shifted beside you, his expression conflicted. “I need time,” he said quietly. “Time to think. But I will not let anything happen to you. Or our child. Not ever.”

And in that moment, you weren’t sure what the future held. But you knew that tonight, your world had shifted. You would never again look at him in quite the same way. Neither of you were the people you had been when you first fell in love.

You could only hope that, in time, he would see the truth. That love, true love, was worth fighting for—just as much as power.

[heeliopheelia]

𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 (p. sunghoon x reader)

tw: choking, fem! reader, unprotected sex, established relationship, pet names, exhibitionism if you really try to find it, creampie, cowgirl

word count: 0.7k

masterlist

Your movements come to a stop at his request, body flopping on the thick thighs you’ve been stradling. His cock nuzzles deeper into you because of that, making you both groan as you put your hands on his chest for stability.

“A-Are you sure?” You stumble out, looking down at your boyfriend with hesitation.

Sunghoon bites back a smirk and intertwines his hand with yours. “Yeah, baby. Choke me.”

His cock twitching inside your walls serves as enough of a proof, but you still can’t help but be unsure. You’ve never done anything like this before after all. It’s only natural you’re worried. 

“C’mon, baby. It’s okay,” he soothes you, bringing your hand up to place a kiss on your knuckles, before slowly lowering it and guiding it down. His fingers sprawl over yours to help them embrace his arched neck. 

His eyes never leave yours as he repeats the action with your other hand, and once he’s happy with how you put the smallest amount of pressure on his skin, he smacks your ass as an encouragement. 

“Choke me.”

And he smiles when you hesitantly obey, slowly picking up on your previous pace, lifting your hips from his dripping cock. A sigh escapes his lips when your grip tightens ever so slightly on his neck. 

“Don’t be scared, baby. Harder.”

Your breath is shaky but you obey and put more force to your grip. The faint heartbeat underneath your fingertips is intoxicating, just like he is, your cheeks grow warm when along with a groan, the first call of your name falls from his pretty lips. 

He's much more reactive like that – under you. Always so dominating and such a tease. You like him like that, you think. Because he's simply mesmerizing this way. Eyes glazed from the lack of air, cheeks red and lips parted as he lets out stuttered gasps for breath. 

You've never heard him make such sounds before, the little gasps and whines being so much more vulnerable than ever. You pull yourself up and down his cock with as much rhythm as you can uphold. 

“Is that good?” You ask, just to be sure, but all he does is flash you a smile.

“More.”

You stutter on his hips for a second before looking into his delirious eyes. “I don't wanna hurt you, Hoon.”

He pinches your thigh before placing both of his hands on your hips and grinding you down on him. “Don't worry about that, love. You could never hurt me.”

You nod hesitantly after a moment and finally press down on his neck harder. Whatever might have been holding you back, the divine moan he lets out is worth all the stress this man causes you. His eyes flutter shut, you can feel his cock throbbing viciously inside you which is a dead giveaway for how close he actually is. 

You whimper with desperation and start chasing your hips after the ingrowing high, the rapid increase of your pace involuntarily making you push harder on his neck in an attempt to stabilize yourself.

What you never expected though, was for Sunghoon's hips to buck up into you in despair and not even a second later he was cumming with the prettiest moan you think you've ever heard. You watch hypnotized as his eyes roll back, long lashes casting a shadow over his cheeks, and lips tilted open while a bunch of groans and mewls slips out of his tightened throat. 

You find yourself finishing just by the sole sight of him like that, though the feeling of the thick ropes of his warm cum shooting up in you definitely sped up the process. With a yelp, your hands let go of his neck as you collapse onto his chest. 

The both of you come down from your highs after a moment, the air filled with heavy breaths and cars driving behind your opened window. 

“That was so good,” Sunghoon spoke up, breaking the silence and making you glance up at his smiling face. “You were perfect. Thank you, baby.”

You lift yourself up on his body and cup his cheek lovingly. “Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it.”

“You’re a natural,” he teases, turning his face to the side to press a quick kiss to your hand. “You sure you've never done this before?”

“Shut up,” you mumble with embarrassment but can only giggle afterwards at the gleeful grin that's plastered on his face. 

With a sigh, you lean down and pepper soft kisses along his neck, frowning slightly with guilt when you spot the already reddened spots on his skin.

Well… Seems like a turtleneck is the only option for your boyfriend tomorrow.

taglist @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @dilucsleftshoelace @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @seongiewon @nichoswag @s00buwu @mon2sunjinsuver @goreconsumer @i4kt @heehoonsnemo @seongslutt @criminalyun @enhabooks @antoinettenotfound

[nathaslosthershit]

The Main Event (Multiple Pairings) Part 1

Can be read as a standalone but also (Part 8 in the Blind Items AU A/N: Its my nineteenth birthday 🥳 I wanted to write about adults being happy in different stages of their life because I am so scared of growing up and the thought of not being a teenager next year makes me nauseous. Enjoy! Each pairing has a Blind Items backstory which is linked at the start of their section (You don't have to read the backstory, though) Multiple (separate) Pairings: Logan Sargeant x Leclerc!reader, Oscar Piastri x reader, Charles Leclerc x reader, Lando Norris x reader, Lance Stroll x reader, Lewis Hamilton x reader, Alexander Albon x reader in the next part Summary: A wedding between Logan Sargeant and the youngest Leclerc child means a very interesting guest list, in which all previous victims of the F1 Blind Items account are included.

Oscar Piastri

“Dude, how come you are more nervous about my own wedding than I am?” Logan asked.

Oscar rolled his eyes and scoffed, pretending what the American was saying was ridiculous, as he nervously picked at his nails, trying to hide his trembling hands. Logan just laughed at his friend's failed attempt at nonchalance.

“It’s just- I’m nervous about the media inserting themselves in the events today. I mean I don’t want to have my toddlers in the spotlight any more than they already are.” Oscar explained. After being forced to reveal his kids to the world before he nor his fiancée were ready, and after just a few interviews and racing events the kids attended, Oscar didn’t want to give the media much more for the time being.

“Wow, way to make my wedding about you.” Logan teased, trying to relieve the utter look of anxiety and despair on Oscar’s face. But the Mclaren driver just shot him an unamused glare. “Look, I have told you time and time again if you don’t want them as flower girls- or kids, I’d gladly make my brother frolick down the aisle throwing petals. As much as I love my honorary niece and nephew, nothing would make me happier than making Dalton do that.”

This finally got a laugh out of Oscar. “They have been practicing too much to do that, we would be in for a shit storm if you tried to take away their time to shine.” It had been a big thing in the Piastri household for the past few months. Every second of every day, Frances and Hudson had been asking their parents questions about what weddings were like, how they should walk down the aisle, and if they had to see uncle Logan kiss his wife (they were not amused by the idea of having to see that). Not to mention the hundreds of times they forced their parents to watch how they would walk down the aisle, asking what they thought and ignoring any criticisms given to them (they saw no reason as to why they shouldn’t be allowed to dance and sing while throwing petals). 

“Then calm down. If all goes well there won’t be any media there, I mean I think we have done a pretty good job at making sure no one outside the event knows about it. Plus, no offense but there are plenty of people with far more interesting stories and scandals than your family. The tabloids are bored with y’all now that there isn’t anything new to expose.” Maybe a harsh way of putting it, but it was true, there were plenty of Formula 1 couples who had been exposed by the media for various reasons in attendance today. 

“Right. Got to say, Logan, the guestlist is impressive. I mean could you imagine telling your 13 year old self that the Lewis Hamilton would be attending your wedding?” Oscar asked. Even after a few years racing against the guy, the shock from being around him never wore off. He just had that ‘greatest of all time’ energy.

“I can’t even take the credit for much of it though. It's the bride who brought all the biggest names.” Logan rolled his eyes playfully. It was true though, his wife-to-be had made friends with all the biggest names in the world and they weren’t half assed friendships either. She could make even the tiniest of acquaintances feel like longtime companionships. She could make everyone feel so unbelievably loved and cherished in such a short time.

God he couldn’t wait to marry her. 

Oscar laughed at the lovesick grin on his friend’s face. Usually he’d tease him, but he decided maybe he should just cut the man some slack on his wedding day. 

But the urge was too great he couldn’t let Logan go unteased, before he could do so though-

“Dad! Dad! Dad! Look, me and Fran match!” Oscar’s son, Hudson, ran into the room, his sister following after him.

The two seemed to light up in their soft blue outfits.

“Don’t you two look awesome!” Logan said from behind the twins, making them turn around. “You guys look better than me on my own wedding day.”

The toddlers shouted in excitement as they ran to their favorite honorary uncle (much to Lando’s chagrin. He fought hard for that title).

“You two ready to be the stars of the show? Throwing petals ain’t easy work.” He said as he crouched down to hug the toddlers.

Oscar rolled his eyes. Leave it to Logan to make his own children completely uninterested in him. Fortunately, someone who was actually interested in him entered the room after them. His wonderful fiancée.

“You look gorgeous, honey.” Oscar said awestruck.

“You saw me in this earlier.” She deadpanned. 

“Let a man compliment his fincée, will you?” Holding her close to him, kissing her deeply. It was only when the two weren’t cut off with toddler “ewws” and “stop grossss” that they looked back at their children, currently in a… dance competition with the groom. “Glad to see how much they care for us.” Oscar sighed, feeling childish jealousy. 

“Let him entertain them, he’ll get some more practice for when he has his own kids.”

“He’s too young, honey. He is about to get married, he doesn't need to think about that right now.” Oscar scoffed, feeling offended for his children that Logan would ever dethrone his honorary niece and nephew from being his favorite kids.

“Says the man who had two kids by 18 and has been engaged twice, but not married, by 23.” Honey amused.

He blushed at the reminder that their relationship had been done a bit… backwards.

“They already have an officiant and audience, maybe we can just jump in with the bride and groom, two birds with one stone.”

“Nope! I already have two Piastri’s taking the spotlight today, I don’t need more.” Logan said while both twins climbed all over him.

Charles Leclerc (And the Leclerc Co.)

Normally, hard launching your child was not something a bride would encourage on her wedding day, but as the youngest Leclerc child, Charles’ sister loved the drama. Hence why her nephew was making his debut to the public as the ring bearer. Only a month old, the media hadn’t gotten to meet the cutie as he was born right at the start of winter break. It brought tears to his eyes, how insistent his baby sister was on having her nephew involved in her wedding. It was already an emotional day for Charles, who felt like he was losing his first baby as he walked her down the aisle and sent her off into her future, but he truly couldn’t be happier.

And doing it with his son by his side just made it all the more memorable. 

“Honey?” Charles’ girlfriend called as she popped her head into the room he was getting ready in. In her arms was their newborn who, while still so small, broke everyone’s heart at how big he was getting. “Oh, my love, are you seriously crying again?” she asked as he tried to inconspicuously wipe away his tears.

Being reminded that he had just been crying only made him start to cry more.

“Charlie, you are more emotional than I was while pregnant. What is going on with you today?”

“It is stupid, I’m sorry. It's just- it was yesterday my sister was in my arms, having just been born, and now she is getting married and the American is taking her away.”

If there was one thing the Leclerc brothers loved to do, it was make fun of their soon to be brother-in-law. They truly did love Logan, but it was so easy to pick on him and he was far too polite to try anything with them yet. If you asked them, they would say they are just treating him like the brother he is, but they also just really love how much it pissed their sister off, who will certainly be defending him. 

“Oh, sweetheart, she isn’t going anywhere. They are still going to live in Monaco, and you race with her husband almost every weekend. If anything now that they are married you will see more of her.” 

It was true. Even if the Leclerc brothers had a strict ban on dating drivers, they had to admit that their sister had found a good partner in Logan. A man who was driving alongside Charles, had been on the same team as Arthur in the past, and knew just how important and difficult the sport was on family. 

Giving her boyfriend a quick kiss on the cheek after wiping his tears from his face, Charles’ partner went on to try and fix the mess of hair that her lover was currently fighting. 

The Leclerc’s had terrible bed heads, something that unfortunately had already been seen in the first grandson, even at just a month old his hair was thick and unmanageable. 

Fortunately, Charles had calmed down enough that he was no longer a complete mess when his brothers entered the room. If Charles knew anything about his brother’s (and his sister) it was that such tears would have led to him being teased for the rest of his life about it. 

“Have you seen her?” Charles asked Enzo, hoping for any indication on how their sister was doing, having been too busy setting up for the wedding and taking care of his son to check on the bride thoroughly.

Arthur rolled his eyes, “When we tried to see her, Maman wouldn’t let us in.”

“Why? Is something wrong?” Charles’ girlfriend asked, the same level of concern in her voice displayed accross Charles’ face. 

“No, no, the bride said she wanted to have a little moment with the four of us before the wedding, so she didn’t want us to see anything before.” Enzo explained. He had understood her sentiment, Arthur… not so much.

Letting out a breath at the confirmation that nothing was wrong, Charles sat quietly while he got his hair tamed, his brothers playing with their nephew in the back.

It was a sight that almost brought tears to Pascale’s eyes, but she had already cried so much and she knew she needed to save the rest of her tears for the ceremony. Her three boys, all in different stages of their lives, all dressed up and ready to support their baby sister on her big day. 

There was a sense of love and excitement in the air, reminding her of when her daughter had first been born, her older brothers hardly able to sit still while they waited in anticipation. Though everyone was calm now, having gotten most of their childish impatience out of their system, those feelings hadn’t changed. 

“Someone wants to see you all.” She spoke up, getting the attention of her boys. Charles’ girlfriend pressed a kiss to his cheek and took their son from his uncles, wanting to give the Leclerc siblings a moment alone. 

“My goodness, you look stunning.” She said to the bride as she walked through the doorway before leaving. This made all the brother’s perk up, losing the rest of their patience as they waited to see their baby sister.

The second she stepped into the room and tears welled up in everyone’s eyes, the Leclercs knew it was going to be a long day full of bittersweet melancholy, but also one so full of love.

Lando Norris

“Have I told you how wonderful you looked?” Lando asked, grabbing his girlfriend’s hand as he ran his thumb over her knuckles.

She rolled her eyes, “Only a thousand times since we got in the car. Not to mention when I was getting ready, when I was trying on dresses, or when I was simply speaking to you about what I was thinking of wearing.” She teased.

He knew it was overkill, but he also knew how stressed she was. Not about the wedding, she was excited to attend and celebrate, but of the fact she knew she’d finally be identified as Lando Norris’s “unremarkable” girlfriend the tabloids have talked about for a while. 

The media knew he was dating not a model, or heir to a fortune, or an influencer, but a “simple” teacher, one who had a private instagram account with hardly 100 people on it. They had seen what pictures Lando posted of her, maybe a few posted by friends, but they never showed her face. They didn’t even know her name.

Even though their words were harsh, even though it hurt they thought she was undeserving of him when they didn’t know her, the anonymity at least came with the sentiment that all their judgements came from one simple fact, that she was a teacher. Now, they would have more to criticize, more to know, and she hated the thought.

Despite the public not knowing about her though, she had still been able to become good friends with many of Lando’s. Had been present for many arguments between Logan and Lando as they defended their individual titles of being “the best honorary uncle” to the Piastri twins and had been there to help watch the toddlers so Oscar’s fiancée could get a bit of a break during races. 

She loved so many of the people there, and she knew they all had her back. Because of this, she felt more ready to face the music. She shouldn’t be ashamed of who she was, she loved everything about her life, and she wouldn’t be made to feel bad for loving Lando. 

In the end, it was what the two of them thought and felt about their relationship that mattered. 

Lando smiled as he watched her take a deep breath, ready for what was to come. He’d move heaven and the earth for her, and he for sure wasn’t going to let some idiots online ruin something so good.

Lance Stroll

“You must have the worst heartburn, huh?” A mutual friend of a friend, Marie, asked.

“Oh, well actually-”

“Ugh it was so bad! And the indigestion, that really sucked. Oh! Reminds me of this one awful stretch of time when I was pregnant. I was actually also at a wedding…” Marie started on a tangent about some pregnancy horror story. One the currently pregnant woman she was talking to, didn’t appreciate hearing at the moment.

Lance looked over at his wife, stuck in conversation looking pained. Fearing that something was wrong with her or the baby, he quickly made his way over with an excuse to whisk her away.

“Are you alright?” He asked once out of earshot of Marie. 

His wife opened her mouth to answer, but was unable to when a choked sound made its way out first. The sound attracted the eyes of several wedding guests, who upon seeing that she was pregnant, turned back to their conversations, finding that as the excuse for such an outburst. While she was embarrassed when all eyes turned to her, the lack of interest in her wellbeing after seeing her belly just made her start to sob even more.

Knowing his wife was in distress and clearly the crowded room was adding to the discomfort, Lance led her to an unoccupied hallway. 

“Come on, hun. How can I make this better?” Sweetness, with a bit of helplessness, in his tone.

“You-you can’t!” She cried. God, how was she ever supposed to explain what the hell was happening with her. Especially when each second, she felt differently.

Maybe that was the problem. 

 “I’m- I am so tired of being the pregnant lady.” She managed to get out.

Lance frowned at the confession. “I know, love. I can’t imagine what it's like to be pregnant, and I wish I could help. I know it sucks, but you can get through-”

“Stop! That's the problem. Every single issue I have is written off as something that just happens with pregnancy. Like they are just side effects that can’t be helped! Like I just need to deal with them alone because “I signed up for this”. Maybe it sounds stupid or childish but I don’t give a fuck anymore, Lance. I don’t want to be treated like some pregnant lady, I don't want to be treated as if every single emotion I have is just because of hormones or because all women are just expected to suffer through this! Marie just came up to me and started talking about her own horror stories from when she was pregnant! I don’t want to hear that, not when she isn’t giving actual advice, just trying to laugh about things I, as the currently pregnant person, don’t find funny! I don’t want to talk about how I am so hungry and have people laugh and say ‘oh that's just what happens’. I want to get food! I want to be able to be upset without people losing interest the second they realize it's just the pregnant lady crying. I want the things I'm going through to be taken seriously, Lance.”

A beat of silence as he took in her words. 

As the silence stretched on though, she found herself with an apology forming on the tip of her tongue, feeling bad for yelling at her husband during her tangent when, even if he had contributed to the problem, he didn’t really do anything wrong. 

Just as she opened her mouth though, he got on his phone. 

She started to not feel as bad as she watched her husband seemingly ignore all she said.

“Are you-” She began, just to be cut off by him putting his phone in his pocket, and kissing her deeply.

Most of her anger seemed to disappear at that moment. He hadn’t kissed her like that in what felt like forever. Since she had told him she had been pregnant, he had been unsure of how to go about doing… well, anything. 

After a few passionately blissful seconds, he pulled away, still holding her face between his hands and stroking her cheek with his thumbs. “I ordered a car to take us to a crappy fast food place.”

She stammered, “What do- why?”

“You said you are hungry, the ceremony hasn’t even begun yet, we are going to be here for a while before we can eat and while I’m sure the bride and groom have an amazing set up, there isn’t a point in making you suffer any longer when we can fix it.” he explained.

She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to agree, but she also wanted to support their friends and knew she probably shouldn’t skip out on their wedding day. But she really needed something to eat and her feet were killing her already- 

“No, Lance, we shouldn’t it- it would be rude.” She answered.

Lance laughed at her attempt at trying to convince both herself and him. “As much as I’d love to stay, I’d much rather watch you eat a disgusting amount of fast food in an impressively short amount of time all the while dressed to the nines. Plus, we both know the bride and groom would be understanding.” He said as he grabbed her purse and opened the door for her. “After you, my love.” 

She sighed, realizing he was right. 

“Oh how gentlemanly of you,” she teased in a posh accent. “Is it often you whisk away distressed damsels to fast food restaurants?” 

“Only the gorgeous ones. I did earn my nickname of Sir Lancelot from my wife for a reason.” He teased back.

“It seems you have.” She replied with a kiss on the cheek.

Lewis Hamilton

“Oh, sweet pea. You look stunning!” Lewis said as he facetimed his daughter, currently at home with her mom.

The young girl giggled at the compliment, asking her dad about the wedding. She had been more than curious about weddings lately after hearing that her dad was attending one. 

“-and the bride wears a beautiful white dress”

“Like the one mommy is wearing?” she asked her dad, pointing to the oversized t-shirt her mom was wearing with paint stains on it from when she and her partner had painted the nursery for the 1 year old currently asleep in said room. Lewis laughed at the image.

“While I am sure your mommy could wear that and still be the most beautiful girl in the world. A wedding dress is a little… different.” Lewis answered.

“Mommy! Can I see your wedding dress?” her daughter asked.

Both parents froze at the question, realizing they might have not told their child a pretty important detail about her parents. 

“Oh- honey. Daddy and I never got married.” She answered. Her daughter looked back at the phone, at her dad, confused.

“Dad? Why didn’t you marry mommy? Don’t you love her?” 

Harsh. Lewis didn’t know how to answer such a question, but he eventually found the words. 

“Sweetheart, you know I love your mom very much. You are all my most favorite girls. Some people just don’t get married, they don’t feel the need to.” He answered. It wasn’t that the two of them didn’t want to, they had planned on it. But their first daughter had been unplanned, then their second had been too, and eventually, as they became everything to one another, they didn’t have a wedding so high on their priority list, knowing the proof of their love was evident in the two girls they were raising, in the life they had built together despite many unwanted opinions trying to ruin it. 

“Let me talk to your dad sweetie. Can you grab my water from the living room?” His girlfriend asked as her daughter handed her the phone and jumped off the bed.

After the sound of the young girl’s footsteps softened in the background, she spoke up, “Sorry about that, Lew, she saw a photo of some celebrity wedding today and her interest in the topic was reignited.”

“She is a curious kid, I get it. She is a smart one too, she gets it from her mother.” He watched his girlfriend blush at the compliment. Even while tired having to take care of the two young children alone, she seemed to be glowing. “We never did get around to marriage, did we?” 

She sighed, “I guess we got too busy. I hadn’t even thought about it in a while- not that I don’t want to marry you still!”

He laughed at her realization she may have chosen her words wrong, “No, I haven’t either. Two kids is a lot, and we both know how we feel about each other. But I will always be ready to marry you, the second you say so.”

“Well, I’ll always be ready to marry you, after you properly propose. You already got two kids out of me, I at least deserve a big flashy ring.” She teased.

“And you shall have it my love.” Lewis suddenly heard his daughter coming back. He spoke up when he saw her pop back up on screen, “What do you think, love bug? Should mommy and daddy get married? I think your mom would look beautiful in a big white dress, right?”

The little girl perked up at that, “Yes! But, will it be hard for mommy to wear a dress with the baby in her tummy?” She asked, pointing to her mom’s stomach.

Both adults froze. 

Slowly, Lewis’ girlfriend let out a deep sigh. “Baby, I told you not to talk about that with daddy till we could tell him…”

If his eyes opened any wider, they would have popped out of his head. “She’s serious? We are having another baby?”

“Surprise? I wanted to keep it a secret till you came back and make it all special but she was so sad when you left I told her to cheer her up.”

Lewis’ heart softened at the thought, “Well, I guess a wedding might have to be postponed for the time being” He amused.

They’d get around to it, maybe after this next kid, maybe after the next few.

Part 2 coming soon featuring: Alex Albon x reader, Logan Sargeant x Leclerc!Reader (Its 1 am and I have work in a few hours)

[wcters]

𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗞 𝗙𝗔𝗦𝗧

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

word count: 770+

summary: you let him pretend, just for a moment. pretend that it would last forever

request: hello!!!!! i love your work sm 🩷🌟 was wondering if you could write something with oscar ?? have a nice dayy 😽| @81evermore

warnings: established relationships, pda, some angst | i knwo it’s a little short but i was got the request and was listening to 5sos, why not make an imagine with oscar based on a 5sos song???

Oscar knew it was wrong, he knew it was irresponsible, but as soon as his eyes met yours, it’s like his rational brain went out the window. The adrenaline was like nothing he’d ever felt before ━━ not like driving at hundreds of kilometres per hour, not like making split second decisions that could make it break him, nothing. He could feel the grooves in your hand as you clasped his, your hands moulding together and filling up the empty spaces. He could feel the air going past every strand of hair on his head, and he could imagine the smile on your face as you both ran. It was exhilarating.

Oscar was supposed to be perfect in every way ━━ polite, nice, professional, put together. You let him live a life that wasn’t his, it gave him an escape, let him imagine what life could be, should be. A house overlooking the ocean, couple of kids, a dog, maybe. But he knew it wouldn’t happen. But you let him pretend . . . Even if it’s just for a night.

Laughs tumbled past your pursed lips as you ran, yelling at him to ‘hurry up!’ and ‘come on!’ every once and a while. Where were you even going? He had no idea. He couldn’t really register anything besides you and the lights blurring past him as he ran. Right now he was thankful he had the stamina he did.

You randomly stopped, Oscar almost stumbling into you. He wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your head. From what he could see, he assumed it was a lookout somewhere in the city. He could see the ocean, waves overlapping each other and the sun reflecting on the water. “Surprise.” You whispered, afraid you would ruin whatever was happening. He hummed, “where are we?” “Lookout. No one really knows about this place ━━ I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen someone else here.” He was right, and smirked at that.

You let the two of you bask in silence for a little bit. You wanted to know what he was thinking, but you let him have a moment to himself. You knew with his career he didn’t really get to do that. You rested your hands on top of his which were placed around your hips and started ti quietly sway. It was a habit of yours. It was like your mind and body were running at one hundred percent, twenty-four seven, and this resulted in you always moving. Oscar didn’t mind because he had the same thing. Though his brain wasn’t active all the time, he was still so used to the adrenaline and fast-paced life he had, which resulted in the same thing. He followed you, swaying back and fourth.

It stayed like for a little before you got bored at let go, releasing yourself from his hold. You turned to face him and held out your hand to him. “What?” He had an eyebrow quirked up, smile tugging at his lips.

“Dance with me.” You smiled while laughing lightly, and Oscar swore he could listen to that noise forever. He could imagine life with you in ━━ him chasing you and your kids, cooking in the kitchen. Oscar almost shook himself out of his train of thought. He was too deep, but he don’t care. “Okay.” He grabbed your hand and twirled you around, pulling you towards him. You leaned your head against his chest, his heartbeat familiar and comforting against your ear. “This is nice.” You whispered. “It is, isn’t it?”

The two of you took turns twirling the other around, though it was hard for you because you were shorter than Oscar ━━ though not by much. Laughs broke the stale night air as you two danced, surrounded by love and unsaid words. You both knew that this would eventually end, but that was a talk for another night.

The unsaid was a comfort, knowing that it didn’t have to end yet, but it was also a reminder. Reminder to Oscar that you couldn’t have the life together he and you wanted. No big backyard with a play set and barbecue, no nursery and kids rooms filled with toys, not the little bits of the other scattered throughout the house, none of your singing lulling him to sleep and waking him up . . . Nothing.

You two were stuck in this moment forever. Just you. No formula one, no school, no stress, just the feeling of the curves of your hands and bodies, the smiles and dimples, the essence of the person. In this moment, you didn’t have to face the inevitable.

[lucygraysboy]

“yeah, i feel you. if you and margot are getting married, i’m celebrating y’all’s love and mourning ours on the same day,” he laughs, finding the whole conversation beyond amusing. “but in a good way, right? somethin’ else in a good way? not in a talks-to-pigeons kinda way?” loving the sound of her laugh, he can’t refrain from saying more silly things just to hear more of it. “elaborate on it, though. what exactly do you understand by that? by wanting your life to be a fairytale, i mean. just magical? happy? you don’t ever want to go to work?” he’s not trying to be sarcastic, just genuinely curious. “you’ll soon be livin’ with me, ain’t no way i’m lyin’ ‘bout my eatin’ habits now.” and risking losing her trust all over again because of something so trivial. “you sure you don’t want this? ‘cause i’m gonna eat it?” he points to the last bite of chocolate cake on his plate, wondering if she’s good with just ice cream. the sun’s already set, but the sky is still tinted a deep orange near the horizon. lights coming on. and he can’t help but think lucy gray looks real beautiful like this, her eyes hold galaxies within them. “do you want to join maudey at the arcade or should we like… take a walk? see what else this city has to offer? if you want to get some more sleep, i totally get that, too, though.” he so desperately doesn’t want this day to come to an end, willing to do anything.

"alright, so even if margot proposes me you'll be at the weddin'. that's how i know you're a true friend." lucy gray laughs, finding the made up scenario hilarious but also the support she doesn't actually need because she's not bisexual as far as she knows endearing. "you're really the type to get excited over underwear for christmas? well, i guess findin' somethin' won't be hard then." she muses, she thought earlier he was just joking. "oh, i don't have to manifest that. that'll come easily all on it's own." sweetly smiling, adoring his talents. "i love the idea of bein' a real princess, who doesn't want just any prince. she wants to marry the cowboy prince and become a cowgirl princess with him." it reminds her of being little and convincing herself she really was a princess, it makes her extremely nostalgic to reminisce on. "what about later tonight? can you have anymore snacks?" she wonders, just to get an idea of how much he's eating today even if she believes him. "just a few more bites or i'm goin' to go overboard." taking his plate, happily digging in for a few more bites while pushing hers towards him.

[levi-4uckerman]

╰┈➤ satoru gojo x reader // reader self insert // prologue here

╰┈➤ like ghosts in the snow // synopsis: Nearly three years ago, Reader vanished from the jujutsu world without a trace. Guarding a secret that could upend both the life she’s built and the one she left behind, she’s taken refuge in a quiet, snowy mountain cottage on the other side of the world. But the past can’t stay buried forever, and the ghosts she's tried to avoid are beginning to stir.

╰┈➤ CH 1 TWs: male masturbation, explicit sexual content, graphic descriptions of sex, original characters used, secret pregnancy, mention of young children, mention of past character death, possible manga spoilers, blah blah blah. enjoy :)

✎ side note before we dig in! I know y'all hate a YN so the reader has been given a random japanese name. welcome to ur new life as Shiori Myoji :)

You sat alone in your cabin, staring at the flickering fire. The wind howled outside, shaking the windows and piling snow high against the panes. You barely noticed. Winter had come early this year, though the townsfolk chalked it up to the unpredictable nature of the mountains. You held a half-empty teacup, the liquid long since gone cold. Your fingers trembled slightly as you gripped its handle, though you told yourself it was just from the chill in the air. 

The fire crackled on, and your thoughts drifted like smoke, pulling you backward through time as you stared into the hypnotizing flames.

…

The first time you saw Satoru Gojo as human was at the ceremony following Suguru’s death, a private event held at Tokyo Jujutsu High after hours. There weren’t many guests, but the crowd was big enough that he hadn’t seen you at first. You’d stood at the edge, out of the way, your umbrella shielding you from the rain pouring down like the sky was in mourning, too. 

You hadn’t planned to approach him. What could you have said? The strongest sorcerer in the world, staring at the ground as though he could will himself to fall through it– what words could you possibly offer? Anything that crossed your mind felt hollow, tasted meaningless on your tongue. 

Yet, still, you approached. Those bright blue eyes had landed on you and you were drawn in, like a moth to flame. Your feet were moving before you realized what you’d done. 

“Shi-chan, you’re staring,” he chided, his voice sounding hollow. “Didn’t think you cared.”

“I don’t,” you replied, aware that you both knew it was a lie.

It always was.

He smiled, soft but genuine– like he was just grateful for your company. You nodded, letting him take what he wanted from the gesture. 

The relationship you’d had after wasn’t supposed to mean anything. A week of stolen moments, grief shared in the only way either of you knew how. You sought solace in each other’s arms, filling the empty spaces that Suguru had left behind. You told yourself that it wasn’t real, that it was just a way to cope. Was that a lie, too? 

That week had changed everything. And two months later, when you realized you were pregnant, you knew that there was no going back. 

…

The sound of Haruto stirring in his sleep pulled you back to the present. The cabin’s quiet stillness wrapped tightly around you as you set down your teacup, your fingers still slightly shaking as you stepped toward your sleeping son, curled around his stuffed rabbit. He was so small, so peaceful– and yet, every time you looked at him, it was like staring into the past. Your big, scary past. 

His hair, white as the snow outside… his eyes, that same piercing shade of blue that gazed at you from across classrooms, found you in crowded hallways buried deep in your memory… Sometimes, if you looked at him just right, he even had his father’s stubborn smirk. Sometimes it was enough to make your heart ache. 

You didn’t regret leaving– you wouldn’t let yourself. You’d made the choice for Haruto, for Satoru, for humanity– he deserved a childhood free from the crushing weight of the Gojo name, free from the dangers of being born into a world of curses. And Satoru…

He didn’t need the burden of fatherhood, another anchor to his already heavy chains. 

He didn’t stop you when you left.

Your breath caught in your throat. You told yourself not to think about him, not to wonder where he was or what he was doing. You’d left him behind, you’d left everything behind, but the truth lingered. Sharp and bitter in the back of your throat. You’d run because you were afraid. Afraid for the part of you that wanted to believe that Satoru might have chosen you and the life growing inside of you over everything else. 

But you’d seen the threads of fate. Tangled, cruel, impossible to ignore. You left because you couldn’t bear to watch him choose the world over you. 

…

The fire snapped sharply, loud enough to make you jump. The flames cast dancing shadows against the walls, and you felt a familiar prickling at your scalp as you watched them move. It wasn't a vision, but a feeling, a suggestion that something may be on the horizon. You closed your eyes, trying to will fate’s whisper into a conversation, but it remained quiet– imperceptible. Glimpses came to you in flickering waves, an apparition at the edge of your mind… someone tall, broad-shouldered, with eyes like the sky…

Your chest tightened as you pushed the thought away with a gasp, forcing yourself to focus on the crackling fire and the sound of howling wind outside. 

“Shi-chan,” an older voice called softly from the adjoining room. “Are you still awake? It’s well past midnight.”

“Aya-san,” you replied, withdrawing your hand from your son’s hair. “Did I wake you?”

“No, child. The storm did.” Aya stepped lightly into the room, moving with the ease of someone used to late-night watches. She lowered herself onto the armchair by Haruto, dimming the table lamp and casting soft shadows across her face. 

Aya Takahashi, formerly Zenin– she’d sought an escape from the troubling world of jujutsu, same as you. Born into the infamous Zenin clan with a powerful technique, she had built her life around the expectations of her lineage… until she met her late husband. He was a non-sorcerer whom she'd fallen in love with devastatingly quickly. Their love was defiant in the eyes of the Zenins, and Aya chose him over their approval. They ran away together, knowing the cost of their love, only for her spiteful relatives to come for them both, bringing their marriage to a sudden, violent end. 

Aya lost her husband that day.

She ran away to this sleepy, mountainside town out west, hoping that its wild, untamed cursed energy would mask her signature. For thirty years, she had been successful. When she came across you and Haruto, barely ten months old at the time, she saw herself in your struggle, and she knew... she couldn’t walk away. 

And gods bless her soul, she didn’t.

Aya had become such an unassuming yet steady presence in your life—a former sorceress who had left her old life behind and found solace in this small, secluded town just like you had.

The arrangement had begun with practicality, but Aya’s quiet strength and experience had turned her into a figure of comfort, almost a guardian. Her motherly tendencies extended to you as much as to Haruto, though she rarely showed her cards outright.

Aya studied you for a moment, her expression knowing. “Something tells me you haven’t slept yet,” she hummed, reaching to turn on the television as if to settle in for a watchful night.

You studied her with a hint of reluctance, knowing exactly what she intended. “Aya-san, you really don’t have to—”

“Go and rest, Shiori.” Her voice was gentle, but her tone left no room for debate. “I’ll be here if the boy wakes.”

“But I—,”

The look she gave you, one full of quiet insistence, spoke louder than any further protests you could make.

With a resigned sigh, you shook your head and accepted the fate she’d laid out for you, the comfort of her presence an unspoken balm. You relented and bid her goodnight, resting a comforting hand on Haruto’s little head before walking away. 

...

In Tokyo, Satoru Gojo was feeling a similar kind of anxiety. 

Ryomen Sukuna had a vessel. The thought of it alone made his jaw clench tightly. It was unprecedented, unpredictable, and as far as he was concerned, a major pain in the ass. There were no protocols for this sort of thing— well, maybe one, but that was the last thing he wanted. “I can’t let them kill him,” he muttered to himself, tone sharp as nails. “He’s just a kid.”

He leaned back in his office chair, staring out at the Tokyo skyline with mild interest. His head pulsed with a day-old migraine as he studied the tiny flares of cursed energy erupting in short bursts across the city's grid. The presence of curses and the activity of curse users had become more erratic than usual, flickering in the depths of the city like embers waiting to be ignited. It had only gotten worse since Sukuna's fingers entered the equation; like all of Japan was holding its breath. Even with his technique, Satoru was struggling to keep up with the endless spikes of energy on the horizon. His head throbbed, his senses constantly assaulted until finally, he pulled the blinds closed. 

Satoru sighed. He hadn't been this on edge in a very long time, not since...

He dismissed the thought, reaching for a bottle of painkillers nearby and rattling it in a last-ditch effort to dull the throbbing in his skull. He popped two in his mouth and swallowed them dry before running a broad palm over his face, a low groan slipping out as he reached his lips. "This is fucking stupid," he muttered, voice muffled by his hand.

With a sigh, he pushed himself out of the chair and stretched his long arms above his head, joints stiff and aching from too many hours of vigilance and too little rest. He hated to even consider leaving campus, knowing that Yuuji-- no. Sukuna was here. Yuuji had done well in controlling the king of curses since they had started training, but the thought of leaving him alone still left Satoru uneasy. Could he really turn his back on him?...

Yes, he decided, as his eyes caught sight of his phone screen flashing the time: 3:55pm. He hadn't slept a wink in over 40 hours, a reckless oversight even by his standards. His Six Eyes needed rest, and he'd be no use to anyone-- especially against Sukuna --if he burned out completely. I can leave. Just for a few hours.

With a tired sigh, he dialed his assistant. “Ijichi,” he sang half heartedly into his cell, his voice missing some of its usual playfulness. “I’m going home.”

Ijichi's protests were immediate, though muffled through the receiver. Satoru didn't bother listening. He slipped the phone into his back pocket without even hanging up, ignoring the last few sputters of "--but Gojo-san!"

Stretching his limbs once more, he felt the weight of exhaustion settling into his bones. It wasn't like him to abandon his post so early into the afternoon, but he wouldn't be of any use in this state. Half-blind, staggering through a haze of pain. The pounding behind his eyes was growing unbearable, his senses dulling with each passing minute. 

With one last glance at the skyline, Satoru exhaled, letting his shoulders drop just slightly. It was strange, the guilt that had begun creeping in these days, as if his raw determination alone would be enough to protect humanity from Sukuna's dark influence. But at his core, he knew that if he wasn't sharp, if he wasn't fully there, then he was no more than a tired body standing watch. 

Humanity deserved better than that. 

Yuuji deserved better than that. 

…

In his apartment, Satoru wandered thoughtlessly into his bedroom, tossing aside his phone, his wallet, his blindfold, and all of the other little trinkets he carried on the job. The blinds were drawn and the room was dark; still, he manipulated the pitch black space seamlessly, thankful for the small mercy of darkness. He migrated to his shower-- something else he'd been putting off. 

The hot stream of water-- scalding against his porcelain skin --was healing. Following the contours of his body, mapping the planes of his muscles as it traveled across his skin. The rich scent of his body wash hung thickly in the air, cutting through 40 hours' worth of sweat and frustration. With a sigh, he bowed his head, letting it all fall into his eyes, mouth. 

What the fuck had happened to him? 

Being alone was something he still struggled with. He'd once thought of Suguru as the only person who could possibly understand the isolation that followed his responsibilities as the strongest. But Suguru was gone, had been gone longer even than he'd been dead, and all that was left now was... Satoru and his sadness? Longing? He didn't know what he was feeling. 

Remorse? 

"You promise you won’t regret this?"

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Eyes snapping open, he reared his head back. Infinity kept him from losing his balance, thankfully, but didn't stop the way he wobbled a bit on his feet with the emotional whiplash he'd just received from that memory. That voice. 

He exhaled, long and slow, steam swirling in the dimmed light. His pulse quickened just slightly as the memory returned to him in living color, as if he were reliving it-- naked and vulnerable. 

A laugh-- soft like morning mist. Perfume dancing across his senses, igniting warmth within his chest. He felt her  presence even here, in the sanctuary of his mind. 

Shiori Myoji. The Clairvoyance User. 

The quiet, mundane memory came to him suddenly-- like his pain had picked the lock to a door he'd forgotten long ago. She was sitting on the edge of a windowsill in the Jujutsu High dorms, delicate fingers cradling a cup of tea. He sat beside her, much too close, with a large hand resting on her covered thigh. She was blushing, and he remembered the way it made his heart race. Has anyone ever done that before? 

Has anyone ever done that... since? 

"You're incorrigible,"  she scolded lightly, though the light smile upon her lips told him all that he needed to know. With a glance toward the halls, assuring there would be no witnesses, she leaned into him and he did the same, capturing her mouth in a tender kiss.

Fuck, she was always so soft. So calm. The kind of calm he pretended that he was, but had never really felt. Only in these moments, did she ever seem to look at him. Usually, her gaze extended into a space that he couldn't see-- a space that no one occupied, as if she were seeing something that he couldn't. 

The water hit his shoulders harder now, as if trying to call him back to the present. He straightened, shaking his head as if that could wash away the memory of her. As if it were something that could be scrubbed away as easily as sweat and blood from his skin. 

But she lingered, as she always seemed to do. She'd been away for too long for him to still think of her. She was a distraction at the time, something they both craved desperately. That is what she was, wasn't she? His distraction. His excuse. His anchor when the weight of Suguru's passing had threatened to tilt him off-balance. She was his-- then, now, whether she knew it or not. 

His, because he couldn't let her be anything else.

Yes, a voice in his head purred. Yours, it agreed— languid and sweet, sounding suspiciously like her. 

She was an addiction he’d been more than willing to rid himself of— even if it hurt like pouring salt into a wound. He’d love to say that he didn’t feel it, or that it paled in comparison to the pain of killing his best friend, but that simply wasn’t true. He’d grown attached to her warmth, her quiet strength, the mutual understanding of their own responsibilities as sorcerers. She’d been an enigma to him in high school, a close friend as an adult, and now? A ghost. A shadow. Someone who knew him intimately, someone whose taste hadn’t left his mouth since the last time his tongue was inside of her— because only he knew her so intimately, too. 

Only he had been privy to the way that her brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and disgust when he said something lewd, the way her cheeks would darken at the slightest mention of their extracurricular affairs, igniting a fire in the pit of Satoru’s belly each time. Only he got to see the spit-slick part of her lips when she came, her wet heat wrapped so tightly around his member that he’d nearly blacked out at the force of his own orgasm. Only he knew that it was like that every. Single. Time. with her, like they were both squirming virgins experimenting with strange new feelings. 

Except Satoru had never felt so enthralled with a lover before, and he never would again— something he’d come to terms with after trying and failing to fill the void she left in his life as his ‘distraction’. That’s all she was.

Right?

“Fuck,” he muttered through clenched teeth as he recalled her image in near-perfect clarity, spread out above his sheets— moaning softly, gasping his name when he fucked her just right. “Fucking shit.”

Satoru took himself in his hand, letting the water cascade down his back as he hunched over, pressing his forehead against the cool tile as he recalled more. Her dainty fingers tangled in his hair as she writhed beneath him, bucking her hips against his pelvis and fucking herself on his cock. Broken whispers of ‘Satoru, please,’ as her walls contracted around him, milking his seed into her waiting womb. The taste of her sweat on his tongue, salty and sweet, while he sucked his little purple love bites into her skin. He’d spell out his fucking name with them if he could. 

He’d carve it into her flesh with his teeth if she’d let him. 

Feelings Satoru had never experienced before her— or after her — flooded his senses. The hollow ache of desperation as he craved her warmth, the bitter taste of jealousy as he thought of her with anyone else, the crushing weight of grief when he remembered she was gone—

“Fucking miss you,” he spat, pumping desperately into his own fist, slick with prespend. “Fucking miss the way you feel.”

In his mind’s eye, Shiori writhes underneath him, pinned to the mattress by his weight. Her fingers tangle into his hair as he fucks into her, hard and fast, carving out a space just for him. He’s grunting along with his thrusts, her pretty little gasps coming out in broken hiccups. They’re hiding in the campus dorms again and they have to be quiet; she muffles a loud cry against his shoulder, teeth baring down into his flesh as she locks her legs around his waist with surprising ferocity, holding him so deep inside of her, and oh shit they forgot a condom—

“Fuck,” he hissed out in a sharp breath, tightening his grip on himself. The exhaustion in his bones temporarily forgotten, Satoru slammed a fist onto the wall above his head, a satisfying little crack! coming from the tile. His orgasm had nearly taken his breath away in its intensity, years of frustration and repressed feelings finally coming to a sore, bursting head. 

He stood panting in the shower stall, watching the physical evidence of his longing swirl down the drain. His head pulsed with every beat of his heart, the effort he’d exerted not mixing kindly with his already throbbing migraine. He groaned, running a hand through his slick hair, and subsequently flicking water onto the wall behind him. Fucking Shiori, he muttered to himself. 

Head swimming, Satoru emerged from the muggy bathroom several minutes later. He was still stewing over his momentary loss of control. He could have anyone he wanted, and here he was, fisting his cock to memories of an old flame. A ghost from his past. 

He’d buried her in the place he’d buried Suguru— except, the ache was different knowing that her physical form still roamed this earth. Somewhere. He could find her, if he wanted to. Maybe she'd be able to tell him what the fuck he should do, how the fuck he was going to save a 16 year old boy with an eons-old curse living inside of him. 

A plan began to unfurl inside of him, unwillingly. A first grade sorceress, gone without a trace... But all cursed energy left residuals, didn’t it? Would it really be so hard for the Six Eyes to follow her clues, hunt her down, and bring her back home? 

It wouldn’t be hard, but it wouldn’t be right, he thought. 

Last he heard, Shiori had fled west to study cursed energy manifestation in other regions. It was a convincing cover up, but given her technique and her history of omitting bigger details, he'd always assumed there were other implications to why and where she'd gone. Did she know what was happening in Tokyo? Did she see something that he didn't? 

Of course she fucking did, he scoffed, slipping a t-shirt over his bare shoulders. When didn't she? She always knew more than she let on. It had frustrated him back then, and it frustrated him even more now. The idea that she might have seen this, predicted it-- Sukuna, Yuuji, the spiraling chaos of Tokyo's curses --and had chosen to leave anyway gnawed at him. 

The truth was, he didn't want to think about why she left. Shit, he didn't want to think about her at all. But her name sat heavy on his chest now, a quiet itch he couldn't continue to ignore. If anyone could make sense of the impossible, it was her. And yet... she was gone. She'd left without so much as a goodbye, or a trace worth following. Maybe that was all of the explanation he really needed. 

Maybe that was all of the closure he’d ever get.

With a low groan, Satoru flopped onto his bed, stretching his arms out wide. He didn't get tired often, but exhaustion was settling into his bones. He closed his eyes, letting the darkness settle over him, the plan that he refused to admit beginning to stir in his minds' eye once more, unwelcome and persistent. He could find her. If he wanted to. If he needed to.

...

This is Chapter 1 of a multi-chapter fic to be crossposted to AO3. Taglist below as requested. @starlightglimmersworld @mccookiemonster @leilakaro @certainduckanchor @itsbellablue-blog @shokosbunny @hyookka @drogonfruitzen

[whatifitis]

♡ So American - FC 43 ♡

Summary: You and Franco celebrate Thanksgiving together for the first time and Franco nearly gags when he sees American Thanksgiving dishes

Author's Note: this is so ass so I’m sorry 😭 feedback is always appreciated

WC: 2296

CW: american reader 😲, fluff, thanksgiving food, wicked mentions, more overuse of song lyrics

You and Franco had been together for the better part of the year, about 7 months. Thanksgiving was coming up and, on the same weekend F1 would be racing in Qatar, not allowing Franco to be with you on Thanksgiving day, which was honestly a disappointment to the both of you. However, after moving around some plans, the two of you managed to pick a date that worked for everyone to be in your hometown to celebrate the holiday, before Franco had to go off and be a star (and an icon).

To say you were excited was an understatement. It was not only your first time having a boyfriend, but having a boyfriend during the holidays. You were excited to create new memories with Franco and show him how you celebrate the holidays in America.

Your family typically divides the work for the food every year and this time you were in charge of making the sweet potato and marshmallow dish, something you knew was gonna throw Franco into a whirl about. Your boyfriend enjoys making fun of some American dishes and you don’t mind because it’s fun and you can see how some of them are strange.

You two were in your apartment the morning of Thanksgiving dinner. You got ready for the day and decided it would be best to change into your outfit after you’ve cooked. You settled on wearing one of Franco’s shirts and a pair of his shorts for now. You then decided to head to the kitchen to prepare your dish, Franco trailing behind you like a puppy.

“You look pretty wearing my clothes.” Franco complimented.

You deadpanned to Franco with an emotionless face asking, “do I not look pretty any other time? Is this the only time I look pretty?”

Franco’s face turned red and he was panicking, “I- no, no, amor. Thats- that’s not what I-“

“I’m kidding, love. Relax, looked like you almost shit yourself then.” you laughed.

Franco took a breath of relief and just smiled at your antics, “ha ha, so funny.”

As you pulled out the ingredients you’d be needing, Franco watched in confusion.

“Amor, what- what are you making? You have sweet potatoes, marshmallows, and pecans on the table. Is it all for one dish? No, right?” he questions, cocking his head to the side.

“It is for one dish. I’m making a sweet potato casserole!” you exclaim excitedly, knowing it was one of your favorite dishes and you can only have it during Thanksgiving.

“Eugh. No, amor. No.”, you watch as Franco makes a face of disgust, “Why?”

“It’s good, baby. I promise. When it’s all baked together with the seasonings, it tastes like heaven.” you think, displaying a picture of the dish in your mind.

Franco all but side eyes to your response, “I thought I tasted like heaven…” he pouts.

“Sweet potato casserole tastes better, babe. Sorry.” you flash a toothy smile.

“Ay dios mio. Is this what I’m marrying into?” Franco jokes, dropping head into his hands.

“Ehm! I beg your finest pardon?! Where the fuck is my ring?”, wiggling your ring finger at him, “Don’t joke about marriage, bitch. Or I’ll start doing the ending riff of Defying Gravity all day long.”

“Ay no, por favor, no. As much as I love your singing, amor. I can’t listen to any songs from Wicked right now. It’s all you’ve been playing the past month! Please, anything but Wicked, anything!” Franco pleads with you.

“Fine. Your funeral though.” you say, carrying on with your cooking.

“Que?”

“Nada”

Franco is left speechless, but you carry on with your actions.

After plopping onto a chair and pouting, Franco got curious, “Amor, can you tell me what Thanksgiving is? I know you give thanks, but why?”.

“Well, in school we were taught that years ago, around this time, the pilgrims and Native Americans came together to share a meal and be peaceful with one another. They basically celebrated a successful harvest but with most of American history, there’s some lies. But Americans really don’t care about history. It’s just a day where most of us don’t have to work and an excuse to stuff our faces with food that’s really bad for us.”

“That’s….nice.”

“I can feel the judgement from here.”

“I’m not judging, just learning.” he smiles cheekily, “but in all honesty, your reality is so different from mine. In Argentina we don’t have this holiday and strange foods, but I want to learn all about your crazy American traditions if it means I get to be by your side. I go where you go.”

“I go where you got too.” you say, still blushing from his words.

“Maybe ‘I go where you go’ can be our ‘always’.”

You tried to suppress your laugh and threw a few marshmallows at his response, “You’re done. You’re done. I cannot believe you just quoted The Fault In Our Stars.”

He’s giggling to himself and it’s one of your favorite things in the world. It’s just not fair of him to be so cute and funny. If he keeps this shit up, you swore you were gonna marry him.

-=+=-

During the drive to your parents house for dinner, you and Franco listened to music. As passenger princess, Franco had control of the aux and he played a playlist he had made when you two first started dating. He knew that sharing music was sort of a love language of yours so he saved all the ones you had mentioned at times or the songs he would always find on repeat when you were around.

It was a peaceful drive, that is until No Good Deed from Wicked came on. As soon as the opening chords started, Franco knew there was no stopping you. He watched as you put on a one woman performance for him, and him only. Yes, it was from Wicked but he couldn’t lie. If you’re the one singing, he didn’t mind the constant sound.

He was also thankful it wasn’t Defying Gravity or else you would’ve been asking for a broom to hold. He also knew you would’ve fucked up your voice a bit if you attempted Cynthia Erivo’s riff.

The two of you arrived at your parents house and were warmly welcomed by the rest of your family. Though the house was already decorated in Christmas decor, the feeling of Thanksgiving was flowing through the air. Your dad already had the (American) football game

playing on the tv, calling Franco over to once again try and convert him into a fan.

You watched as your boyfriend was practically dragged away from you, laughing as he mouthed the words ‘help me’. Your dad adored Franco and your Franco loved hanging with your dad. As they went on to do their antics, you walked to the kitchen, setting down the dish you had prepared and began to help your mom finish up some cooking.

“So,” your mom starts, “how are you and Franco?”

You couldn’t help but smile, you’re glad she brought him up first because you can never have a conversation if it’s not about him.

“We’re good. When he found out that he was able to make it to dinner, he was so excited. He’d immediately asked me a million questions on whether he should bring something or not as a gift. But I told him to not worry about it, there’s enough food and drinks so we didn’t need anything.”

“He’s a sweet boy. I’m glad you found him, he’s brought back a light in you that I haven’t seen in a long time.”

You looked up at your mom and almost burst into tears. You didn’t know that color was coming back to you. Before any tears spilled, Franco walked into the kitchen and went straight to you. When you were close enough, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close and kissing your hair.

“Do you guys need any help?” he’d asked you guys.

“I don’t think we need any help here but you know what I need help with?” you aunt asks, raising a cheeky eyebrow at Franco, “I need help dancing to this song.”

You watched as your aunt grabbed Franco's hand and pulled him away from you to dance with him. The two danced and swayed to the music as the rest of you laughed and cheered them on. You’re glad your family gets along with Franco well.

Music, laughter, and chatter filled the air, along with the savory and sweet smells of the food that was almost ready to eat. Once everything was cooked, your mother, aunt, and yourself began to set the table with the silverware and make the table look as beautiful as can be. As if they could sense that everything was ready, Franco, your father, uncles, aunts and cousins joined you at the table.

As each of you began to take your seats, Franco was almost split in half. Everyone wanted to be seated next to him. You were all for sharing but Franco was yours. As long as you got to sit on one side of Franco, no heads would roll and peace would prosper.

In the end, one of your cousins ended up sitting on the other side of Franco, ready to bombard the poor boy with questions about racing and F1.

Before digging into the food, everyone had to give thanks and say what they were grateful for. Most of your family said the typical stuff like thankful for having a happy, loving family and having a roof over their head. That was until it was your cousin’s turn…

“This year, I’m grateful that Logan was dropped from Williams and that Franco was able to have that seat. My best buddy is a F1 driver now. But R.I.P. Logan, my American king. Also R.I.P. Sebastian Vettel, you would’ve loved Franco. Anyways, who's next?” your cousin clapped his hands, looking around the table.

Crickets could be heard from the silence.

Franco, thankfully, moved the conversation forward and said his thanks. “Well, ehm. I think I have a lot to be thankful for this year. I’m thankful for my opportunity to drive in F1, and even though I don’t know where I’ll be next year, I’m still happy I got this chance. I’m also super grateful for y/n. We only met this year but she’s still amazing and has been there for me through a lot. And I’m also grateful for having been invited to join you guys today and that you guys are so cool and welcoming, so thank you.”

Everyone basically awed at Franco and his little speech. Meanwhile you were on the verge of tears. You’d never known love like this and you couldn’t believe he chose you. He was like a poem that you wished you’d written.

After some deep breaths from you, everyone began to dig into the food, well, everyone except for Franco. The boy was absolutely lost, he didn’t know what half the stuff was and he wasn’t sure how to go about anything. You took it upon yourself to start his plate for him so that he could familiarize himself with some of the foods and not get overwhelmed.

When you set his plate down in front of him again, he looked at the plate confused and then turned to you, silently asking you to tell him what everything was.

“You’ve got some ham, sweet potato casserole, green beans, and mashed potatoes to start. I know you like all those even if you haven’t tried some yet. From here you can work your way around the dishes on the table.” you smile.

“Gracias, amor. I really am grateful for you and all that you do.”

“Tell me, lover. How grateful are you?” you cheekily ask.

With a wink, Franco replies, “I’ll show you after dinner.”

-=+=-

“The only thing I will be showing you if anything is my shit because I am so full.” Franco tells you as he settles himself on the couch.

The whole family had wrapped up dinner and finished off the night with some dessert. Now some of the family were chatting over some drinks to end the night.

“Please don’t.” you tell Franco.

“Ok, I wasn’t actually planning on showing you my shit. Ay dios.” states as he rolls his head to rest on the back of the couch.

You take a seat next to Franco, resting your head on his shoulder, his arm instinctively wrapping around you. His other arm reached for your hands and held them close. You swore his hands were so warm that they made hell seem cold.

You really were grateful for him. The two of you had been through some tough times so early into your relationship. There were times where you wondered if it was meant to be and if it would all work out. You’d even tried to push him away at some point, believing his life would be easier if you weren’t there to drag him down. But he stayed. There have been moments where you’ve been mean to him, times where you were so depressed that you would stay in bed all day and didn’t move. Days where you didn’t respond to his texts or calls because you couldn’t. But despite all that, he’s still here.

You’ve burned so many bridges in your life. You’ve made the same mistakes over and over but now you know you did one thing right. You love Franco with everything you have and he’s the person you trust the most. He knows you better than you know yourself most of the time. Even when you lose your mind, he’s still yours.

[heechwe]

one more night | 𝐦𝐣𝐡

୨୧ pairing: myung jaehyun x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 2.1k ୨୧ genre: smut ୨୧ tags: forbidden romance, friends(?) with benefits, ceo!jaehyun, ceo!reader, spanking, degradation, oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie. ୨୧ synopsis: You tell yourself it will be the last time you commisserate with the enemy every time you leave him. But, like magnets, you always come back to each other in spite of every instinct telling you to walk away. ➸ Request from spider anon via this ask! I hope you love it like I do! Shoutout also to my friends @lovetaroandtaemin and @loserlvrss for beta-reading and dealing with my ass writing this story ilysm 🤍

Any excuse to run across Jaehyun reminds you why you’re such a good liar. Both in life and in business, it’s a good skill to have in order to hold a lot of things together. Jaehyun isn't one to conceal much of anything, though. Maybe that’s why you both can’t stand each other sixty percent of the time, your rigidness the perfect clash with his care-free nature. The guy holds a title you worked for forever while he seemed to earn it with the flick of his wrist. 

Your families didn’t share fuzzy feelings either. Your parents and his on paper seemed to be a match made in heaven, your hotel monopoly the counterpart to a chain of popular restaurants in the city. But it was anything but, unfortunately. The lack of similar business interests and practices as well as their disproportionate dispositions made it a pain to get together every time there was a dinner party or business convention with both of your companies on the ticket.

Like tonight, the expo for the new release of stocks for many companies is another standoff between your respective parties. You have to hold yourself back from sharing any words of encouragement or conversation that paints Jaehyun and his company in a good light without being rude. In truth, you could care less about the hotels right now, flitting your gaze to the ballroom doors to see the one person who drives you insane.

You refuse to admit the red dress you’re wearing is meant to show off your neckline just for him. You did not put on an extra spritz of perfume that he likes to make his head spin. You don’t wish the executives you’re talking with right now would walk away so you could find the man himself.

Of course he saunters in the room when he lingers on your mind, walking past the many gray suits without much care for his late entrance. His three-piece suit exaggerates the lines of his body in a way that irritates you and turns you on in the same breath. He shakes the hands of the stakeholders with a shit-eating grin and glides near you with a hand on the small of your back, determined to shake your resolve without saying a word.

It’s his nature to get under your skin with something as simple as the light graze of his fingertips. He loves to see you flustered until you’re begging and pleading, the actions completely against your normal character. You’ll never bow down to any man or woman in the world to get what you want, but for Jaehyun, he seems to be the only exception to the rule.

Of course, you’ll never admit that, playing it off as simple carnal desire and nothing more. You deny the heat pressing into your body the longer his hand lingers on the back of your dress, his thumb and forefinger playing with the zipper.

He says your name as he toys with your emotions further, the rest of the company around you going back to their casual conversations about trips abroad and business deals. “We need to discuss the merger. We can excuse ourselves for fifteen minutes, don’t you think?”

Sanctimonious prick.

He can barely hold himself together by the time you make it off the elevator together and walk in the direction of the room. He strings you up against the hallway wall, his hand immediately hiking up your skirt and his lips clinging to your neck.

“You love this. You love messing with my head,” he grunts, taking your underwear in his fingers and dragging them down your legs. He could give a shit less if anyone were to leave their room to find the scene playing out in front of them. In his mind, three days has been torture. Any more and he would’ve exploded.

He has to make it known how much pain he has been in, and he has every intention of returning his torment with the same vigor.

“Hyunie,” you whisper, the words about to leave your mouth as hollow as his preservation for your dignity. “Not here.”

“You don’t care,” he responds. The pad of his thumb easily finds your clit under your dress, rubbing circles into the center of your legs without stumbling on his words. “Everyone downstairs could see me fucking you and all that would matter to you is if you got off. And you know it.”

You moan into his mouth when he licks the roof of yours with his tongue. His fingers still dance in the pool at your center, your underwear clenched in his other hand pressed against the wall.

“Please fuck me, Jaehyun,” you beg, tugging on his pants as he continues with his thumb and forefinger bordering the walls of your cunt. The strain of his cock in the fabric is obvious, the outline of it making your mouth water.

He smirks, holding his bottom lip between his teeth. “Not before I feel that beautiful mouth on me, baby.”

By the time Jaehyun slides the keycard against the door mechanism and lets you both inside, you have him pressed to the other side of the door in record time. It takes only another second for the underside of your tongue to meet the tip of his cock. He barely had time to pull his pants down before you were taking him in your mouth, but he loves to see you like this, lust-drunk and impatient.

Just because you’re a good liar doesn’t mean you’re good at practicing delayed gratification.

Sure, you may not like him a good portion of the time. But now, with his hand violently wrapped in your hair, ruining the curls you spent an hour working on so he can fuck your face, you think you may die if you don’t feel him inside of you soon.

You gag around him when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. Tears pool in your eyes, but the sound of his moans and the way he slides between your lips is indescribable.

“Fuck, this mouth was made for me, you know that?” He groans, lovingly holding your cheek with the palm that isn’t wrapped in your hair. “My perfect little whore.”

You hum and continue letting him abuse your throat. His body trembles at the endorphins rushing through it, and he hasn’t even come yet.

Jaehyun pulls his cock out of your mouth abruptly, making you whine in confusion. He pulls you up by the hands, a knowing smile plastered across his face. Your knees burn from the friction against the carpet, but the force of his kiss makes you forget any feeling that isn’t pleasurable. The rest doesn’t seem to matter much at the moment; only him and his effects on your being take precedence in your mind.

“Y’know I love coming in your mouth, but I want your pussy more.” He takes you to the bed and motions for you to get on all fours once your dress and high heels are discarded in a corner of the room.

He lands a hard smack against your ass, rubbing the skin as you whimper into the pillows underneath you. “You’re such a bad girl. Acting like you don’t want me, yet you’re hungry to have my cock filling you up every time you see me.” He takes his other hand to press his fingers inside of you. “My little brat, too proud to admit she loves being my little fucktoy, huh?”

You shake your head and stuff your face further into the pillow. You arch your back only for Jaehyun to spank you a second, third, and fourth time. He doesn’t take his fingers out of your heat even as he hits you, but each bout of contact with your ass and his palm is harder than the last.

“Don’t lie to me, baby. You know I hate it when you do that.” A fifth smack meets your ass, and you almost press your whole body flat onto the bed, the pain and pleasure too much to absorb at once.

“I love it, Jaehyun, I do. I love being yours,” you gasp, legs shaking. Your body stretches the coil inside of you tighter, unsure when will be the exact moment you fall apart.

Jaehyun doesn’t make you wonder for too long. “Prove it. Come on my fingers, baby. Let go.”

He presses a kiss to your reddened skin as you come undone, the orgasm ripping through your energy without mercy. Your legs are limp and unable to hold you up any longer when you come back to reality.

That doesn’t mean the devilish man who’s caused you so much satisfaction is done.

“On your back, baby. It’ll make it easier.”

He hooks one leg across his waist, holding it tenderly as he slips inside of you. He groans at the feeling of finally entering you, your walls still drenched from your previous arousal. He doesn’t push you further than necessary though, his pace languid but purposeful.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he moans, his sounds reverberating through the room. Your body is completely at his will, the aftershocks of your orgasm leaving you spent to an unfathomable degree. All that’s left for you to give are weak whimpers of ecstasy. “So fucked out because of me,” he continues, suddenly picking up the pace.

“Are you gonna make me come again, Hyunie?” You ask, eyes half-lidded. Your body is on a slow crawl to a second release. But if Jaehyun has anything to say about it, he’ll make you orgasm before he does, like usual.

He may be full of himself, but he’s a giver.

He runs his thumb into your slick again, drawing swirls into your clit. You cry out at the feeling, him penetrating the deepest parts of you while touching the motherboard to your nerves so effortlessly. Why did he know how to get under your skin and also burn it alive?

With all of your strength, you lift your hips up to meet Jaehyun’s. He grunts as your skin meets his, his thrusts more powerful with your added effort.

“I’m gonna come, baby,” Jaehyun warns, slamming harder into you as his release comes closer to fruition.

“Me too, Hyunie,” you respond to him, the words becoming lilts of air as he pounds into you mercilessly. This orgasm is different from the first one, your body in silent surrender as the pleasure overtakes you. The only physical response you have is your slackened jaw.

“Fucking shit,” Jaehyun curses, your cunt tightening around him beautifully from your release. It pushes him into his own, his seed filling you with mind-blowing warmth.

Some of it spills out of you when you separate, but he plunges it back in with his fingers slowly. He kisses your stomach as you buck up from the sensitivity. “Easy, baby. Don’t want any of it going to waste, do we?”

Like clockwork, your satiated thoughts from pleasure become ones of humor at his ridiculous ways of claiming you for his own.

Your legs are intertwined with Jaehyun’s on the bed, the fuzzy robe you stole from the bathroom covering your body. Jaehyun is sitting up against the headboard, wearing nothing but his briefs. He says nothing but stares intently as he strokes your thigh, your focus on stuffing your face with ice-cream.

Jaehyun went downstairs shortly after he crawled off of you, even apologizing personally for you and giving an excuse of not feeling well enough to stay at the conference. Normally, you would be fine going back downstairs without a second thought. Tonight, however, seems to be different in a way you can’t pin down. Something inside of your heart has shifted, more than you thought possible.

It doesn’t help that he came back upstairs with your favorite desserts. He walked in with a bashful grin, candy and ice-cream littered across the metal tray. “Extra cherries for your sundae, right?”

Now, looking at him, the weight of all the lies you told yourself before seems unnecessary to carry any longer. Would it be so bad to admit he was annoying but also endearing?

You turn from your vanilla ice cream to look at him for the first time in forever. His mouth opens for a spoonful of your dessert, his eyes lit with glee at the prospect of you sharing with him. And you do, your heart too swollen with affection to say no.

This may be uncharted territory, but maybe it’ll be easier if you’re honest. And the truth is simple: the bane of your existence may very well be your perfect match.

@yvnempire @sjylouvre @mini-mews @jayparked @heesuncore @yoursjaeyun @sungbeams @jenoslutie @loserlvrss @pars-ley @lovetaroandtaemin @wonwovy

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊

@kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @sayxonet @violetanet @svthub @whipped-kpop-creators

[xx-reverie-xx]

Hihi!! I just read your Sevika HCs and I absolutely love them!! I wanted to know if you could (please) write HCs for Sevika and Vi after an argument with their partner? :) Whether it’s an argument the reader started or they started can be completely up to you! Or you could even do both scenarios if you prefer! 💕

Thank you and I hope you have a nice day/evening 💖

🖤Sevika and Vi after an Argument🖤

men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni

🤎Sevika🤎

I don’t think arguments would be common in a relationship with Sevika.

When she locks into a serious relationship, she means serious. She covers all the important bases for a healthy relationship; communication, loyalty, respect, trust, and so much more.

Covering these bases, especially communication, helps to avoid frequent arguments.

It won’t completely cut out the occasional argument though.

When you two do argue, it’s almost always about bigger things. For example, her working so much and not taking much time for herself, or maybe her drinking and smoking.

Post-argument time usually has as “how can we avoid this in the future” moment where you guys have a heart to heart about whatever started the argument.

If you start an argument:

Be prepared to apologize first. And only apologize if you’re really sorry.

You should always finish what you start, after all.

Your apology may be met with an affectionate an eye roll and a huff.

She never stays mad at you for long.

Once you apologize she usually makes space for you wherever she’s sitting and wraps her arm around just to let you know it’s really okay.

If you’re just apologizing because you feel like you need to, don’t. She can see right through you if you’re bullshitting her.

If you’re stubborn like her, sometimes apologizing can genuinely be difficult. She gets that. Which is why her patience with you is a blessing.

Again, when you’re ready to apologize , she’s affectionate and accepts it.

If she starts an argument:

This woman is stubborn. For her to apologize, it just doesn’t feel right.

She’s only ever been truly sorry a few times in her life. In the Undercity, living a life like hers, she never had time to be sorry.

Being sorry gets you hurt. It gets you killed.

But…

It’s obviously different when it’s you. You aren’t a big bad wolf waiting around the corner. You’re her partner, her ride-or-die.

In the heat of the moment, what she said felt right. It felt like something you needed to hear.

The thought of you feeling hurt by something she said just eats her alive.

She comes to you first.

It isn’t anything crazy, usually just a simple, gruff “I’m sorry.”

She’s awkward and stiff about it, but completely genuine.

Asks what she can do to make it up to you, if anything.

❤️Vi❤️

Violet runs hot. She isn’t a loose cannon but someday’s it can be hard trying to keep all of her emotions under wraps.

This has definitely lead to arguments over petty things like dishes in the sink or eating the last of her favorite snack.

It’s also lead to arguments about very serious things. Her pit fighting, drinking, and her occasional impulsivity.

Arguments always hit her hard, even the petty ones. No matter how old she gets, arguments always make her feel like a little kid, just waiting for the ball to drop. The ball being losing you.

That feeling of dread, like this argument could be the last, if that makes sense.

Physical touch is usually present in the make up process after an argument. It helps ground her.

The good news is, the two of you always make up very quickly.

If you start an argument:

If the argument is a petty spat about dishes or snacks, she still apologizes first, albeit rather begrudgingly.

This links back to her feeling like this argument could be the last. What if she never hears “You promised you’d take out the trash this week” ever again?

You, however, shut that down. “It’s my fault, I should be the one apologizing.” You tell her.

These arguments are extremely easy to come back from because you two are always on the same level. Two halves to make a whole, equals

There isn’t a point in staying hung up on petty nonsense for long.

If you start a big argument, you apologize first.

She distances herself and you have to go to her.

You’ll usually find her someplace where she shouldn’t be, like a bar. Or, you might find her someplace safe, like with Loris or another friend she feels comfortable around.

Not only should you apologize, but it would also be a good chance to thoroughly explain why you’re upset or might think something is a bad idea.

Once you do that, she’ll open her arms up to you and usually things can be resolved somewhat easily after that.

If she starts an argument:

Again, she apologizes first.

If she starts an argument, big or small, the dread of possibly losing you over this hits her like bricks.

For smaller arguments, she approaches you casually. If you let her, she’ll wrap her arms around you. An apology hug, if you will.

Says, “I’m sorry, baby,” in the softest voice she can muster.

These smaller arguments are always easier to come back from just because she’s so sweet. How can you ever stay upset when she’s such a sweetie?

Big arguments are something else though.

After she’s said whatever it is that she’s said, the weight of it all is suffocating.

If she said something really stupid and hurtful in the heat of the moment, she might need some space for a bit. Things like that take her back to that day.

But she’ll come to you when she’s ready.

May or may not have a little gift for you for extra measure. Usually it’s something simple like your favorite candy bar.

She tells you she’s sorry and explains why she got so worked up. Usually this leads to a steady and warm embrace and you let her know it’s okay.

hello!!! thank you for the request ♥️ please let me know if you enjoyed it or not. i had so much fun writing these. i kind of got carried away with vi’s headcanons 🙈. . i was purposefully vague about what started the argument so you can sort of imagine your own scenario for why the argument started!🎠

ask box is open for multiple fandoms and nearly every arcane character! check my pinned for rules, fandoms, and characters.

[ducktoo]

Cold Food, Warm Heart

Kwon Eunbi x Reader

Note: waaaaa my first ever ult bias. I missed writing Eunbi fics sooo tyty

(IZ*ONE Eunbi is still in my heart 💙)

The first time Eunbi cancelled on you, it was easy to shrug off. Work comes first—it always has for her. She called you an hour before she was supposed to show up, apologizing profusely about an unscheduled meeting with her management team.

“Next time, I promise,” she’d said, her voice warm and familiar, the kind of voice that could melt even your worst frustrations.

You’d smiled, even though she couldn’t see it. “It’s fine, Eunbi. I get it. Don’t stress about it.”

And at the time, you had meant it. One canceled date wasn’t the end of the world. She was busy; she had responsibilities. You admired her drive, her passion for her work. It was one of the reasons you fell for her in the first place.

But then it happened again. And again.

Dinner plans were rescheduled. Weekend meetups turned into fleeting visits. Late-night calls were cut short because she was too tired to keep her eyes open. You stopped planning anything altogether because you knew there was always a chance she’d cancel.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care. You knew Eunbi loved you; she told you in every quick text, every kiss on the forehead before she rushed off to her next schedule. But the words were starting to feel hollow when her actions said otherwise.

You couldn’t even pinpoint when it started hurting so much—when the excuses and the apologies began to feel like cracks in the foundation of what you’d built together. Maybe it was the night you waited up for her, a plate of her favorite pasta going cold on the counter, only for her to text at 11 PM: Just got done. Heading home. Sorry.

Or maybe it was the day you saw her on TV, laughing and smiling during a variety show recording while you sat at home, wondering when she’d last laughed like that with you.

She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was working hard, chasing her dreams, achieving things she’d always talked about. But somewhere along the way, you started feeling like a footnote in her life, an afterthought buried under schedules, photoshoots, and fan meetings.

You told yourself you’d wait it out, that things would get better once her workload lightened. But weeks turned into months, and the ache in your chest only grew.

By the time Saturday night rolled around, you were already bracing yourself. Eunbi had said she’d come over after work, but you weren’t holding your breath. You tried to distract yourself, cleaning the apartment, scrolling through your phone, turning the TV on and off. None of it worked.

Your phone buzzes on the coffee table, the name lighting up the screen like a beacon.

Eunbi.

For a second, you think about letting it go to voicemail, but it’s not a call. Just a text.

I’m on my way. See you soon!

it should have brought relief. Instead, it felt like a bandaid on a wound too deep to heal.

The thing is, it’s not that you don’t want to see her. You really want to see her.

It’s that every time you do, it feels like a reminder of how much you don’t deep down. Weeks turn into months, and the glimpses of her you get in person feel like water through your fingers—fleeting, impossible to hold onto.

You’re tired of pretending it doesn’t affect you.

The knock at the door snaps you out of your spiral. You rise slowly, dragging your feet toward the entrance. When you open it, she’s there, bundled in an oversized coat, her cheeks flushed from the cold. Her smile is dazzling as always, but instead of warming you, it feels like a spotlight, too bright to look at for long.

“Hi,” she says, stepping inside and shrugging off her coat. She’s carrying a bag, which she sets down by the door. “I brought food! And I got those cookies you love from the bakery near my shoot.”

You nod slightly, shutting the door behind her. “Thanks.”

She glances at you, her smile faltering for just a moment. “You okay? You look… tired.”

“Yeah, just tired,” you mutter, moving back to the couch and sitting down. She follows, sitting close enough that her knee brushes yours.

“You didn’t eat yet, did you?” she asks, rummaging through the bag. “I got your favourite. We can eat now if you’re hungry.”

“I’m fine…” You groaned, the annoyance oozed out more than you wanted.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. Finally, she set the food down, turning to face you fully.

“Okay, what’s going on?” she asked, her tone firmer now. “You’ve been like this for weeks, and every time I ask, you just say you’re tired. I know there’s more to it, so talk to me.”

Her words should have been comforting, but they only made the knot in your chest tighten.

You hesitate, your eyes fixed on the floor. This is what you always do—swallow the words, bury the feelings, let them rot inside until they’re nothing but bitterness. But tonight, the weight of it is unbearable.

“I don’t know, Eunbi,” you say, your voice low, almost to yourself. “I don’t know if I’m…fine.”

She frowns, her hand resting lightly on your arm. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh, and her hand withdraws. “What’s wrong?” you repeat. “What isn’t? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. And when I do, it’s like you’re here, but not really here.”

Her brows knit together in confusion. “What are you talking about? I’m here now, aren’t I? I came straight from work—”

“That’s the problem!” you cut her off, your voice louder than you intended. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “You’re always coming straight from work, or going back to it. When was the last time you spent more than a couple of hours here? When was the last time we just… talked?”

“We’re talking now,” she says softly, but there’s a tremble in her voice. “I know I’ve been busy, but this is my job. This is what I’ve always wanted—”

“And what about what I want?!” you snap, your chest tightening with the weight of everything you’ve held back. “I want us, Eunbi. I want to feel like I’m a part of your life, not just some afterthought squeezed in between schedules.”

Her eyes widen, and for a moment, she looks like she’s about to cry. “You’re not an afterthought,” she says, her voice trembling. “You’re the most important person to me. You know that.”

“Do I?” The words tumble out before you can stop them. “Because it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like I’m competing with everyone else—your fans, your managers, your career….And I’m always losing.”

“That’s not fair,” she said softly, her brows furrowing. “You know how hard my career is—”

“Hard?” You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “You know hard it is to just swallow it. I’ve been trying to be understanding, to support you, to tell myself it’s okay that I’m always second—no, third—to your career. But I’m not okay, Eunbi. I’m tired. I’m so damn tired.”

She stares at you, her mouth opening and closing like she’s searching for the right words. “I… I didn’t know you felt like this.”

“Of course, you didn’t,” you say bitterly. “Because I never say anything. I knew that before we start dating. I’ve been sitting here, telling myself it’s fine, that I should just support you no matter what."

Your knuckles turned white from the frustration. "Call me a hypocrite all you want, but I’m-“

You swallowed a sob. “I’m so tired of pretending I don’t feel like I’m slowly disappearing from your life.”

Her hands clench into fists on her lap, and tears well up in her eyes. “I’m trying,” she whispers. “I’m trying so hard to make this work. Do you think it’s easy for me? Do you think I don’t miss you every second I’m not here?”

“Then why does it feel like I’m the only one breaking under this?” Your voice cracks, and you hate the way it sounds—so raw, so vulnerable. “I don’t want to feel like this, but I don’t know how to stop.”

She reaches for you again, her fingers brushing yours, but you pull away, standing abruptly. “I can’t do this right now,” you say, your voice hollow. “I’m exhausted.”

“Wait,” she says, standing as well. “Please don’t shut me out. We can figure this out. Just… don’t walk away.”

But you’re already heading toward the bedroom. The weight in your chest feels cold and unbearable like the untouched food, and all you want is to escape it, even if just for a little while.

“I’m tired, Eunbi,” you say without turning back. “I need to sleep.”

The door closes behind you with a soft click, and the silence that follows is deafening. You collapse onto the bed, your body heavy with exhaustion and regret. As your eyes close, you think you can still hear her muffled sobs from the other room. But the pull of sleep is stronger, and soon, it drags you under, leaving the echoes of her voice behind.

-

The sunlight streams through the cracks in your curtains, landing uninvited on your face. You blink awake, your body heavy with the lingering weight of last night’s exhaustion. It takes you a moment to remember why the air feels so suffocating, why your chest feels so hollow.

Then it hits you—her face, tear-streaked and trembling, her voice breaking as she begged you not to walk away.

You sit up slowly, rubbing a hand over your face. Guilt lingers like a bad taste in your mouth, but you push it aside as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. The apartment is silent, eerily so, and for a moment, you wonder if she’s gone. When you open the door, your heart sinks.

She’s still here.

Eunbi is curled up on the couch, her body barely taking up half the space. Her coat is draped over her like a makeshift blanket, her head resting on a pillow she must’ve grabbed from the armrest. Her face is peaceful, but even in sleep, there’s a faint tension in her brow, as if her dreams haven’t quite let her escape the weight of last night.

You stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do. The sight of her like this tugs at something deep in your chest—a mix of guilt, sadness, and the faintest flicker of warmth. She stayed. Even after everything, she stayed.

The bag of food she brought is still on the coffee table, untouched. You glance at it, then back at her. The urge to do something—anything—gnaws at you, but you’re frozen in place, your feet rooted to the floor.

She stirs slightly, her brows furrowing as her eyes flutter open. For a second, she looks confused, her gaze darting around the room before landing on you.

“Hey,” she murmurs, her voice hoarse from sleep. She pushes herself up slowly, wincing as she stretches. “You’re up.”

You nod, unsure of what to say. The weight of last night’s words hangs heavy in the air between you.

“I… I was going to leave,” she says quietly, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the coat. “But I thought—no, I hoped—you’d want to talk in the morning.”

Her eyes meet yours, searching for something—an answer, a sign, anything. You look away, your hands shoved deep into your pockets.

“I didn’t think you’d stay,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her lips press into a thin line, and she nods slowly. “I thought about leaving. I didn’t want to make things harder for you. But I couldn’t just… walk away. Not like that.”

You let out a shaky breath, running a hand through your hair. “Eunbi, I…” The words catch in your throat. You don’t know where to start, how to untangle the mess of emotions swirling inside you.

“I’m sorry,” she says suddenly, cutting through the silence. Her voice trembles, and her hands curl into fists in her lap. “I’m sorry for making you feel like this. I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you. I thought—I thought I was doing enough just by showing up, but I wasn’t really here, was I?”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. You shake your head, swallowing hard. “It’s not just your fault. I should’ve said something sooner. I thought if I just kept quiet, it would be easier. For both of us.”

“But it wasn’t,” she says softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “And now it feels like I’ve ruined everything.”

“You haven’t,” you say quickly, the urgency in your voice surprising even yourself. “We’re not ruined, Eunbi. We're never ruined…."

You paused for a moment, scrambling your head to find the right word. "We’re just… stuck. I don’t know how to fix this, but I don’t want to lose you.”

Her gaze softens, and for the first time since last night, she smiles—a small, tentative thing, but it’s there. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, the tension in the room slowly giving way to something softer. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start.

“I’ll do better,” she says after a while. “I’ll make more time for us. Real time, not just whatever scraps I can manage between schedules. You deserve that much.”

You nod, the knot in your chest loosening slightly. “And I’ll be more honest. I’ll tell you when I’m struggling instead of bottling it up.”

She reaches out tentatively, her fingers brushing yours. This time, you don’t pull away.

“We’ll figure it out,” she says, her voice steady despite the tears slipping down her cheeks. “Together.”

You squeeze her hand lightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Together.”

The silence stretches between you, but it’s no longer suffocating. Eunbi's hand lingers in yours for a moment longer before she pulls away, brushing the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“So…” she begins, her voice still a little shaky but carrying the tiniest hint of warmth, “should we eat? I mean, if the food’s still okay.”

Your gaze flickers to the bag on the coffee table, and your stomach gives a low, traitorous grumble. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were, the weight of last night masking everything else.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice soft but firm. “We should.”

She gives a small, tentative smile and gets up, grabbing the bag and bringing it to the dining table. You follow her, sitting across from her as she starts pulling out the containers.

“I got your favourite,” she says, a bit shyly now, as if unsure of how you’d react. “It’s probably not as good reheated, but…”

“It’s fine,” you cut in gently. “Thank you.”

She looks up at you, surprised, then nods. Carefully, she opens the containers, the familiar aroma wafting through the air. Your stomach growls again, louder this time, and she lets out a soft laugh.

“Guess we should hurry before you pass out from hunger,” she teases lightly, sliding a plate over to you.

You shake your head, but there’s a faint tug at the corner of your lips. It’s small, but it’s something.

As you eat in silence, the tension that had clung to every word between you starts to dissolve. The food isn’t perfect—slightly cold and a little soggy—but it’s enough.

You two could’ve microwaved it, but last night was too draining for it to think about the obvious.

She watches you carefully, taking small bites of her own meal. Every so often, your eyes meet, and she gives you a faint smile.

“You know,” she says softly, breaking the quiet, “this isn’t how I imagined last night going.”

You pause mid-bite, glancing up at her. “Me neither.”

She lets out a breathy laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But… I’m glad we talked. Even if it hurt. I needed to hear it.”

You nod, chewing thoughtfully. “Me too.”

The weight in your chest feels lighter now, not gone but manageable. The food, her presence, the fragile understanding between you—it’s not a solution, but it’s a start.

As the last of the food disappears from the plates, she leans back in her chair, stretching her arms above her head. “Okay,” she says with a mock groan, “I think I’m officially in a food coma.”

You glance at her, the faintest hint of a smile crossing your face. “That’s what happens when you bring too much.”

She sticks her tongue out at you, the playfulness in her expression making her look years younger. For a moment, it’s almost like nothing’s changed.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, your eyes meeting hers.

“For…what?”

“For staying.”

Her smile softens, and she reaches across the table, her fingers brushing yours again. “I’ll always stay.”

The warmth of her words settles over you, filling the cracks that had formed over time. You don’t know what the future will bring, but for now, this is enough.