#I mean I still drink tea bags | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

unluckilyimnot · 1 month ago

Note

Hi!! Can you do bofurin boys with reader who has an iron deficiency?

S/o / crush with iron deficiency – Sakura, kiryuu, kaji, umemiya, suo

Note: my gf almost has anemia, I know VERY WELL what it is, she's never taking her iron tablets she'll be the death of me

around 0.7k each, slight miscommunication for kaji

m.list | rules

Sakura

The first thing that makes Sakura tick is the fact that Nirei always has hot pads in his pocket or his bag for you. Your hands are always cold, and you vent about it a lot, everybody knows it but nobody asks why. Maybe because they know. But Sakura doesn't, and he also doesn't know how to ask you if it's related to something in particular, or if you're just sensitive to the cold.

Then comes the fact that you're always out of breath, which is a problem when you have a friends' group like them who wander outside a lot. There's not a day without one of them suddenly running after some weird guy or a cat. You rarely follow, taking your time to meet them again later or Suo and Nirei stay with you – it depends. That makes him ten times more curious about it, but he doesn't see himself just ask you why. You're not close enough. Or are you ? He's not so sure.

That's around a rather calm break in a park, in the corner of a little fight, that he built the courage to ask you. Suo has been taking one of the tea bottles away from you when you asked for it and he didn't like being kept out of the general knowledge anymore.

"Why can't you drink tea ?" he asks shyly, his voice barely loud enough for you to hear. You giggle at his question.

"I have an iron deficiency, so it's not recommended to drink tea after eating," you explain, still trying to steal the bottle away from Suo but he's quicker than you, every time. You accepted your fate in the end, which made him smile. Instead, he handed you a lemonade that you reluctantly took.

"It sucks," was all he could think of as an answer at first, not really connecting the dots but he'll search it up. "What else does it do to you ?"

You fake reflection for a second, bringing a finger to your lips. "I feel weak sometimes, so I need to sit out of nowhere because the world spins, you know." You imitate a circle with that same finger.

"My hands are cold and I can't get up too quickly without consequences,” you laugh, “but that's mostly it. I don't have anemia, says my doctor, even if it feels like it," you smile at him when he nods slowly, showing he understood what you just told him.

You didn't expect much after that. It was fair, you even thought that you should've told him earlier since everybody knew already. You thought it would leave his mind quickly, no-one ever thinks about that every day – it's more like they remember every now and then, when you have to sit back immediately after getting up or when you grab someone's arm because the world starts spinning. Apart from Nirei, he's extra careful for some reason.

To your surprise, after the conversation, he got more careful when it comes to you. He might not seem like it, but as a leader now, he takes time out and waits for you more, so everybody does as well.

He stands by your side a lot more when you take a break and sit, you can tell he's trying to do well even if he's not sure. You appreciate it. Every part of it. From him telling everyone to slow down to when he crouches in front of you when you feel weak.

"Y–you alright ? I can hold you back to the station..." he's shy when he tries to help, always. There's people around, his face is all red and he can't meet your eyes – but you can tell by his voice he means it. And it never fails to make you smile

"I'm alright, Sakura, but thank you," even you can get a little shy. "I appreciate it."

He nods, standing up quickly and, after a moment, he holds his arms out for you.

"If you feel weak again, just take my arm ok ?!"

He's a little aggressive, certainly because Suo cooed when he heard him after giggling to himself, but Sakura tries to ignore it. What you can't ignore however, is how hot your cheeks feel at the moment. You take his arm anyway and get up as well, holding it firmly but with a soft smile.

"Thank you, Sakura."

"Yeah, whatever." Again, aggressive but the way he bringed you a little closer tells everything you need to know. That he cares about you, and it warms up your heart.

Suo (afab!reader)

Hanging out alone with Suo is always so relaxing. After spending time with so many people, who run around a lot, staying in silence for a bit is always nice. He's always careful anyway, and he knows that – as much as you love them – you need some alone time, or with him, after spending an afternoon with them.

As soon as he noticed you were a little too much behind, he checked on you instantly. Kindly ask you if you're tired with a soft smile, one you can't send any hint of malice in. It didn't take more than that for you two to leave and take the road to his place.

"Your hands are cold again," he mentioned on the way when your hand brushed against his, like taking note to himself. You simply nod, you get used to it even if it isn't nice. It is what it is.

"I'll make you something hot," Suo doesn't waste time and leaves you the living room as soon as you arrive. Sitting there in silence, you take out your phone and scroll through the thousand of messages they've sent on the group chat – messing with Sakura again because he's too slow to answer.

Suo comes back quickly with some snacks first, he carefully puts them on your side of the table. Then a second time with two fuming cups. He left the white one in front of you, filled with hot chocolate. You frown but still take a look at his cup, to find out its tea. A pout show on your face ; you wanted tea as well.

"Why are you the only one having tea ? I wanted tea too," you shake his sleeve in the process.

He doesn't seem to care, putting the cup to his lips and taking a sip.

"If I recall well, you're on your period, right ?"

You fell silent for a second, before sighing. Of course he remembers.

"Yes..."

"Then no tea for you, my darling," he's a little too satisfied to turn you down, even if it's to take care of you. You want to rip the silly smile off his lips.

"Just a sip," you begged quietly but he shook his head, putting his cup away from you.

"Don't be silly. You'll have some in a few days," his hot hand gently cradles your cheek before kissing your forehead. "Warm up your hands."

It's a soft command and you obey without giving it a second thought. Your ice cold hands warmed up in a minute with the hot cup between them and you lay on his shoulder for extra comfort. It feels nice. His hearing slightly brushing your cheek, tickling a little but you don't mind, his seemingly stiff appearance is soft around you and you couldn't ask for a better afternoon’s end.

Kiryuu

If there is one thing you love more than anything, it’s spending time at Kotoha’s place with the boys. It’s simple, you spend the afternoon drinking tea and talking – so much you could mistake it for a girls’ meeting if it wasn’t for the sappy jokes only boys can make. You laugh anyway, all afternoon, until the corner of your mouth and cheeks hurt. Enough for your head to hurt. Between the lack of sleep last night and not eating enough at lunch, blood was pounding in your head painfully.

“Are you ok ?” Kiryu, who was sitting across from you, asked while Nirei and Sakura were arguing again.

“Headache,”you said simply, putting your hand on your forehead. “It’s nothing, but I might leave soon.”

“I’ll get you some water first. I’ll walk you home,” he smiled before getting up slowly. It wasn’t a question, you didn't have the choice here but you weren’t arguing. You felt weak for no particular reason, it was a day without and didn’t want to tempt the devil; you had one or two bad experiences.

He was back quickly with a glass of water and, after you finished it, he took his jacket and gave you his hand to hold. You waved everyone goodbye before taking the road to your parent’s house. The walk is silent for a while, you don’t have much to say neither does he it seems like but it’s fine for you. You’re just comfortable around him. He knows when there’s something wrong and he’s by your side all the time, you just love having him around. He’s a really good friend.

Yeah. Friend.

Suddenly, you lose balance. You didn’t trip on something, like you thought at first, no, no. The world starts spinning out of nowhere, your vision is filled with stars in a second and if it wasn’t for the arm around your waist, you would probably have hit the wall. Warm got to your cheeks instantly when he held you even closer, when you realized your fingers wrapped around his jacket like your life depends on it. You push him away, but not too fast to not rush your body.

“I’m so sorry, Kiryu, I didn’t mean to–”

“Are you ok ?” He doesn’t want to let you go, still holding your clothes firmly – his voice laced with worry.

“Yeah, it just happens sometimes…” you’re feeling shy now. You never wanted to make him worry, but it wouldn’t be helped now, right ? You didn’t miss the frown on his face before he smiles softly your way again.

“I’m never letting you leave alone then,” he joked, voice light and he made you giggle a little. But his arm hooked with yours and he didn’t let go before you were a step into your home. Safe.

“Thank you again, Kiryu. I appreciate it.”

“Always, don’t be scared to ask. I’ll always answer.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and your cheeks feel red once again. The way his eyes are soft when he looks at you, longing a little more than he should maybe but he doesn’t move.

“I will.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, only for him to hear and that’s enough to him. He leans in and ruffles your hair.“Rest now, see you tomorrow !” And just like that, he leaves you on your porch, not knowing what to do with your heart beating way too fast.

Kaji

When you know Kaji’s on patrol around your school, you always take a walk with him and his friends during your break. It became a habit, you can’t help but do it now – even if it rains. You just came back from the local store, a bag of lollipops in your hands. He ran out and, as you needed something to eat as well, you told him you’ll get some.

Handing it to him, your hand brushed against his. It’s not the first time. You already hold hands once to help you run away from a situation, but it never fails to make your heartbeat speed up a little. You were about to look away, trying to push the feeling away.

“I fucking hate it,” Kaji spits out. It’s not even in your way, he’s cursing under his breath but you can’t help but take it for yourself.

“Excuse me ?!” you yelled, ready to throw hands. You just handed him the lollipop’s bag he asked you, that you kindly brought him on your break time for that ? Not even a thank you.

“Because my hand brushed yours ?! What, you think I've got the plague ?”

He’s too stunned to speak for a second, looking at you with widened eyes before frowning at you.

“It’s always freaking cold ! I hate it !” Right after saying it, he knows he fucked up.

He didn’t mean it like that. But it’s too late. You scoff loudly. You need to take a step back, sending him daggers.

“Oh because you think I like that ? It ruins my life but I am really sorry it bothers you. I’ll think twice before having a deficiency next time,” you sarcastically answer, rolling your eyes. You’re speaking so fast, he can’t even hope to talk back. “I’ll make sure to never touch you again !”

“Let me speak !” he barked, getting up so quickly you barely had time to take another step back. Before he can do anything your phone rang, cutting him and telling you it was time to go back.

He kept his hand for himself, not looking at you as you left without another word but Gods he hates it. All of it. You leave angry, because he knows you’re gonna think about it all afternoon, and he feels like shit, because he can’t even speak when he has to.

He came back to your school’s gate by the end of your day and sat on the bench in front of it, waiting to see your pretty, probably upset, face walk out. He’s not supposed to be there, Umemiya asked them to come back for a meeting but at the moment he couldn’t care less. He had to fix this. His hands in his pocket, he waits patiently until he catches your silhouette coming closer.

Kaji gets up and walks to the front of the gate. You’re glaring at him again, walking past him without a second look. Your jaw clenches when you hear him following you.

“For the record, I don’t want to see your face right now. Let alone talk to you, so lea–”

“Don't look at me the ! Just take this,” he voice is soft despite all the emotions rushing inside his mind at the moment, but he knows better than to listen to it.

Softly, he catches your wrist and slips a hand warmer between your fingers. It was already warm, meaning he broke it before giving it to you and it takes everything in you to turn around and apologize. Your heart skips a beat when his fingers hold onto you a second too long.

“I didn’t mean it like that, you know,” you turned around to look at him, not strong enough to ignore him when he’s speaking his mind. It’s hard enough for him. He looks away when he catches your eyes. “I’m just angry that I can't help it,” he confesses, louder than he wanted to but kept his chin up, not showing any sign of embarrassment.

Beside his red cheeks, but you won’t mention it.

“Then, think before speaking next time,” you say as you look at the ground, but not upset anymore.

“I’m sorry.”

You nod, not thinking about it anymore. Your hands are warmer and his didn’t leave your wrist, better, he’s almost holding your hand and that gives you much more things to think about.

Umemiya (based on a real date with my gf)

Looking around this gigantic book shop is always so nice. Umemiya and you love books, so it's always a good idea to take a look around here, even if you don't buy anything. It's a cute date, as simple as it is.

You like how he stops behind you to read above your shoulder before asking you what it is about as if he doesn't know yet. There's so many books, comics, manga, you don't know where to look ! And you two always go through the 3 floors to be sure you see it all – even you already know the pace by heart.

"Oh look," Umemiya gasped.

You hum as you turn around to see him showing you a red cover you know too well.

"It's still there ! And Hiragi was worried he wouldn't find it for my birthday..." He took a second to stare at it, finding the details again with the shadow of a smile on his lips, making you smile as well.

"Ok my turn," you say, making your way to him and grabbing his arms to lead him to the manga section. You looked around the shelf, looking for soothing in particular before gasping softly. "There."

"See that ? Remember the cover please, I'd love to have it for my birthday! You know, it's like Tokyo Revengers, but they're just high schoolers fighting to protect their neighborhood."

"Sounds like something I'll do," he jokes, taking the book in your hand to take a better look. You giggle.

"That's why I like it."

After you get around your manga selection, and ask approximately 30 times if he remembered well, you two go to the underground level, consisting of books in foreign languages and research books. You like to read your book in English, even if it takes a lot of time, you want to get better at it so you often end up down there. Umemiya never finds his happiness, but he's happy as long as you do ! Instead, he spends more time around the research side – who knows, he might as well develop a passion for ships while reading a summary.

It hasn't happened yet, though.

If there's no book you're looking for, you honestly don't spend much time there. You feel bad to make him wait longer than necessary. Yet, you take your time, looking more than you needed, feeling a little weak at the moment. Grabbing the shelf behind you for a second, the time you steady yourself and take a breath, then you're ready to go.

"Let's go, Ume ?" You ask as you turn to the other side of the room but not too loud. You don't need to, because he's next to you in a second.

"Yeah, I need to pay for this then we're done."

You nod. You didn't plan anything to do after that, and you're glad because as you walk up the stairs you can feel your head spinning before your sigh completely black out once you reach the 1st floor. Grounding yourself on the first shelf you can feel, you close your eyes for a second – you're about to pass out seriously.

Umemiya calls out your name but you don't answer, being a little too slow at the moment. But you can hear him coming quickly next to you and his hands find your waist, holding you back to him as he moves you away to not bother anyone.

"Sorry..." you whisper, trying to blink the dark and stars away.

He shook his head, "It's ok, we have time."

You two fall into a comfortable silence, people are talking and walking around, not really caring about you two and it's better like that. You slowly got your vision back.

You push him away carefully once its fully back, but he's not letting go of you, not after that. You two make your way to the cashier, his arm holding yours as of his life depends in it ; more like the opposite if someone asks you. Yet you're glad, because you actually feel how weak your legs are. He's quick but polite, smiling for the few minutes he talked with him. Without even realizing it, you're already outside, the fresh air doing wonders to your body.

"We're gonna grab something to eat now," he giggles but you can feel in his voice he's worried.

"Sure," you nod, you're definitely not saying no to a sweet treat right now.

460 notes · View notes

pitlanepeach · 2 months ago

Text

From Eden | Chapter Six (6/8)

Oscar Piastri x Francesca Gold (OFC)

Summary — Francesca Gold is an introvert with a quiet life and a Youtube channel where she talks about books, drinks too much tea, and rarely ever shows her face. She prefers it that way - tucked into her London flat with her cat, Henry, and safely hidden behind a screen.

Oscar Piastri is a Formula 1 driver. Fast-paced, high-stakes, always on the move. He hasn't read a book in years, but he's watched every single one of Francesca's videos. Just for the sound of her voice.

Following her on Instagram was a moment of weakness. He didn't think she'd notice.

She did.

Chapter Warnings — Mentions of agoraphobia + severe social anxiety. Mentions of mental health medication. Sexual content. Francesca has a lot of anxiety but is being very brave about it.

Notes — Some time skips, which I’ve tried to make as clear as possible. This chapter (and the final 2) are a lot longer, so grab a tea and a snack. Also: my race calender/fic timeline isn’t perfect. Just don’t focus on it too much and it’s fine. lol

It wasn’t a dramatic goodbye.

There were no tears, no desperate clinging (however much Francesca secretly wanted to). Just the low hum of the kettle in the kitchen, still steaming from their morning tea, and Henry sulking under the couch because his new treat dispenser (Oscar) was leaving.

His duffle bag sat by the door — not even fully zipped — and Francesca stood barefoot in the hoodie she’d claimed as her own, her hands swallowed by the sleeves.

“You’ve got everything?” she asked.

He nodded. “I triple-checked. Twice.”

“Sounds excessive.” She teased, though the words came out quiet and unsure.

“Sounds like me,” he grinned, stepping closer, his hands slipping under her arms to rest at the small of her back. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, but didn’t move from where she’d tucked herself against his chest. “Just… it’s been so nice. Having you here. Being with you for real.”

Oscar’s chin rested lightly on her head. “Yeah,” he said, after a pause.

Francesca’s fingers curled in the fabric of his t-shirt. “Do you want me to walk you out?”

He shook his head. “No. Stay here. It’s cold.” He leaned back slightly to meet her eyes. “You’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be okay,” she echoed. Then, quieter, “you’ll come back, right?”

Oscar let out a breath, soft and sure. “Of course I’ll come back. I already miss you.”

“You haven’t even left yet.”

“Exactly. Tragic.”

She laughed, and he kissed her. A steady, soft press of lips that lingered a moment longer than it needed to, a goodbye without having to say the words, really.

When he pulled back, his thumb brushed the corner of her mouth like it was second nature now. “I’m only going to be an hour away,” he reminded. “Text me. Or call. Whenever you want.”

She nodded. “Okay. I will.”

“I like it when you bother me,” he added, as if she didn’t already know.

“I like being heard,” she said, a little wry. He was ridiculous. Who liked being bothered?

Another kiss, this one to her forehead.

She huffed out a breath, her cheeks flushing red.

And then he was throwing his bag over his shoulder and opening the door, glancing back one last time.

Francesca stayed where she was, fingers curled into the hem of her sleeve, watching until the door clicked shut behind him.

Henry mewled in despair.

“Yeah.” Francesca whispered. She stared at the front-door. “I think I know how you feel.”

—

TWO DAYS LATER

iMessage — Francesca & Oscar

Francesca

osc

would u still want me if i was ginger

Oscar

I have nothing against ginger people

Francesca

🤨

did u date a ginger b4 me

Oscar

No I’ve never dated a ginger girl

Francesca

you’ve dated a ginger guy??????!

Oscar

Stop

I’m in a meeting

Francesca

ok sorry

i might dye my hair

Oscar

Whatever makes you happy

Francesca

ok <3

— two hours later —

katie talked me out of it

Oscar

Thank god.

Francesca

😾

ur mean

Oscar

You’re gorgeous just the way you are.

Turns out they don’t need me for anything else this week. I’m going to borrow a car and drive back to you. That ok?

Francesca

yay yay yay

of course it’s ok duh

also i have a question.

Oscar

What is it baby

Francesca

do u wanna take me on a date?

Oscar

…

Of course I do

Do you want me to take you on a date?

Francesca

yes

somewhere like… quiet

maybe not too far from the flat

if that’s ok.

Oscar

I’ll make it happen

Proud of you. 👍🏻

Francesca

ew why r u using the dad emoji.

Oscar

👍🏻

Francesca

oscar

Oscar

👍🏻

Francesca

you’re good at making me laugh

thank u

i got a bit anxious overthinking the date thing

Oscar

I know

Go make yourself a cup of tea and eat one of the pastries I got you

I’ll take care of everything.

Francesca

god i want to kiss u so hard rn

Oscar

👍🏻

Francesca

fuck off

—

iMessage — Katie & Francesca

Katie

Have you managed to get the outline finished? I’m getting pressure from the team at H.C.

Francesca

yes it’s been done for 2 days

im scared to send it to u

Katie

I need it.

They’re annoying me with their emails Francesca

Do this for me

I hate emails. You know this

Francesca

im worried it’s not going to be good enough

and they’re going to hate it

Katie

How about this.

I like reading. I love romance.

Send it to me. I’ll read it.

I will be brutally honest with you - no holding back.

Francesca

i would rather you be the one to tell me that it’s terrible actually

Katie

Send it.

Francesca

*word document*

—

iMessage — Oscar & Francesca

Oscar

About to leave Woking

Do I need to go to Tesco for anything on my way back?

Francesca

i would like some cans of sprite

and also there’s this book i need for the video i want to film tomorrow

they sell it in tesco apparently

*screenshot of book cover*

Oscar

I’ll try my best to find it

Do you have dinner planned already?

Francesca

i didn’t know u were coming back tonight rmbr🤨

Oscar

Yes but what were you going to eat?

Francesca

uhhhhh i have some instant noodles in the cupboard

probably that

Oscar

I’ll bring food back for us

I’ll probably get there around 7

Francesca

im being very casual about this ‘u wanting to come back here so soon’ thing

but i might bite u or smth when u actually do get here.

fyi

Oscar

I’m sure you weren’t this strange before I made you my gf🤨

Francesca

no i was

just hid it better

do u want me to stop

sorry

Oscar

Don’t stop.

Francesca

😼

Oscar

Freak.

Can’t wait to see you

Actually leaving now. Call me if u need me. I’ll answer on the Bluetooth

Francesca

❤️❤️❤️

—

iMessage — Katie & Francesca

Katie

It’s really bloody good

Not perfect. Very real

That’s what makes it so good

They’re going to love it.

Can I send it?

Francesca

yeah. send it.

love u

Katie

Love u twice

—

iMessage — Oscar & Francesca

Oscar

Is this the right one?

*picture of oscar’s hand holding a book*

Francesca

yesssssssssssssssss

thanku

Oscar

Cool

Are you okay with lasagna?

Francesca

yesssss please

that sounds so good

with garlic bread though

Oscar

Of course babe

Francesca

hurry up and get back here

want to smooch you

Oscar

Don’t make me blush in Tesco

Francesca

ooooooooooo ur so handsome

oooooooooo i wanna kiss u so bad

oooooooooooooo ur my boyfriendddddd

Oscar

You’re impossible.

—

The door swung open before Oscar even had the chance to knock properly.

Francesca stood in the doorway, wrapped in a fluffy pink dressing gown covered in little hearts — fucking cute, Oscar thought — her hair a little mussed, her expression soft and sleepy. Hard to believe this was the same woman who’d been threatening to bite him an hour ago.

Her eyes darted straight to the bag in his hand.

“Book first,” she said, grabbing it from him. “Boyfriend second.”

Oscar blinked. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” she said, digging through the Tesco bag not unlike the way a raccoon would approach a bin. When she eventually found the paperback — slightly curled at the corners due to the fact that he’d piled the family sized lasagna on top of it — she held it up triumphantly. “Thank you. Best boyfriend award goes to you.”

He stepped into the flat, kicking the door shut behind him. “Okay. What happened to wanting to smooch me, huh?”

Francesca, cradling the book like a newborn, looked up at him with a small, crooked smile. The way she held herself around him had already changed — looser, lighter — but there was still a flicker of nervousness in her eyes that made something tender unfurl in his chest.

“Oh, that’s still very much on the table.”

Then she launched herself at him.

She wasn’t particularly heavy, but Oscar still stumbled back a step, letting out a surprised laugh as she wrapped herself around him like an overexcited octopus. Her arms looped around his neck, her legs around his waist, and he buried a grin into her hair, heart thudding a little too hard in his chest.

“You’re ridiculous,” he murmured into her shoulder.

“I missed you,” she mumbled, clinging tighter. “It felt like you were gone forever. I nearly forgot what you looked like.”

Oscar hummed. “I was gone for two days. And we FaceTimed twice.”

“Same thing.” She pouted.

He kissed her cheek. Then again, a little closer to her mouth. “I missed you too.”

“Okay,” she said, peeling herself off of him just enough to look at his face, though her arms stayed loosely around his neck. “I’m hungry. Ravenous. I’ve been glued to my laptop all day. I posted the Taylor video and it’s already getting such a great response. Comments are so sweet and—” She stopped herself abruptly, biting her lip. “Sorry. I’ll shut up. You’re probably exhausted.”

Oscar shook his head, eyes gentle. “Don’t do that.”

She blinked, caught off guard.

“I want to hear about it,” he said, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Tell me everything.”

And then, without any real warning, he lifted her up fully off of the ground. Francesca let out a delighted squeak, arms tightening around his neck. He carried her into the kitchen, her dressing gown trailing behind them like a little pink cape, and settled her carefully on the counter. She beamed at him, legs swinging slightly.

He touched her thigh gently, grounding. “I’ll sort dinner. You talk. Start from the beginning. And don’t think I forgot — tell me what Harper Collins said to Katie too.”

Francesca looked momentarily flustered, but her smile was soft. “Okay. So, I woke up super early. Couldn’t sleep. Ended up doing this last-minute edit on the Taylor video because I thought the voiceover sounded weird and it was annoying me—”

Oscar opened the oven and slid the lasagna in, listening as she spoke. He added the garlic bread to a tray and popped it on the top shelf, wiping his hands on a tea towel as she continued.

“—and then eventually, at like five, I posted it, and it took off way faster than usual stuff. I thought it might do well, but not like… this well. People are already posting clips on TikTok and, like, videos of them talking about me analysis too.”

He pulled out a bag of pre-washed salad and gave it a little shake.

Francesca pulled a face. “No thanks.”

Oscar laughed. “It’s baby leaf salad. It tastes like nothing.”

“It’s sad green sogginess in a bag. I’m not eating that.”

Still grinning, he put the salad aside without argument and leaned back against the counter, gesturing for her to continue.

“Okay. And then Katie called,” she went on, fingers tugging at the edge of her sleeve. His gaze zeroed in on her hands without meaning to. Slightly red, a few new dark purple bruises near her wrist. He blinked and averted her gaze before she could notice where his attention had fallen. “She said she sent the outline to Harper Collins. And they liked it. A lot, apparently. There’s going to be another meeting next week. It’s not, like, a done deal or anything but… it’s probably going to happen.”

Oscar’s chest swelled with something deep and proud. “That’s massive, baby.”

“I know,” she said, in a whisper, like she still couldn’t believe it herself. “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and it’ll have been a dream.”

He stepped closer and kissed her forehead. “Nah. It’s real. You did that.”

She smiled into the kiss. “You’re annoyingly supportive for somebody who has no real interest in books.”

“You’ve watched every race since we started talking,” he said, resting a hand on her hip. “Even though I know you hate it. Seems like we’re even.”

She nudged his side with her knee and leaned forward to rest her head against his shoulder, quiet for a moment.

“I really missed you.”

Oscar turned and pressed a kiss into her hair. “Yeah. I missed you too.”

They stayed like that for a beat — her legs swinging gently off the counter, his hand warm against her side, the quiet sounds of the oven in the background. Then she tilted her head, nudging her nose against his jaw.

“How was your simming?”

He let out a soft, amused breath. “Decent, actually. They’ve been saying nice things lately — about how I’m handling the car, learning fast. It’s been a bit surreal.”

She smiled. “I’m not surprised. Although maybe I’m biased, since I think that you’re the best driver in the world.”

Oscar rolled his eyes, but he looked suspiciously fond. “I have my moments.”

She gave him a measuring look. “What do they mean, though? Like… when they say you’re doing well — how do they measure that? Is it because you don’t crash a lot?”

He looked briefly thoughtful, then leaned his hip against the counter beside her. “Well, part of it is just about the data — lap times, feedback. But I think it’s also about how I’ve adapted. Rookie seasons are usually tough.”

“Rookie?” she asked, brows knitting slightly. “That’s like… you mean you’re in your first year?”

Oscar nodded. “Yeah. First year in F1.”

She blinked at him, clearly surprised. “Oh. Wow. Really? But you’re so good.”

His ears went a little pink, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess. I—uh, they’ve been saying I might win something. Rookie of the Year, maybe. Because I already have the podiums in Japan and Qatar.”

“Wait,” she said, brows lifting. “Okay. Podium. That’s when you got handed the trophy with Lando and the other guy, right? With the champagne?”

“Yeah. When I came third,” he said, trying not to sound too proud. “In Suzuka. And second in Qatar.”

“I didn’t realise Japan was your first podium.” Suddenly, she was so glad that she’d sat and watched the entire race.

He gave a small, almost shy smile and turned back to the oven to check the lasagna. “Thanks.”

She was still looking at him, trying to piece it all together. “I still can’t believe this is your first year, though.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ve been racing for a long time, just not in F1. Started in go-karts when I was six. Moved through the junior formulas — Formula 4, 3, 2.”

She gave a slow nod, processing. “Like levels in a video game.”

He chuckled, setting a timer on his phone for the garlic bread. “Exactly like that.”

She swung her legs idly from the counter. “So how’d you get into McLaren, then? They’re a, uh, good team… right?” She attempted.

That made his smile falter just slightly, like he was choosing his words. “Bit of a weird one, actually. I was with Alpine before. They had me signed as a reserve driver — like, waiting in the wings in case someone got sick or injured.”

She nodded along. “Okay. So what happened?”

“Well… they were supposed to offer me a seat for this year, but they didn’t. Or, they sort of tried, but it was messy. Public. I wasn’t even properly informed about it, and they kind of announced me without confirming things with me first.”

Francesca’s face twisted. “Wait — what?”

“Yeah,” he said, glancing over at her with a wry smile. “They just… assumed I’d go along with it. But I’d already been talking to McLaren, because I wasn’t getting answers from Alpine. And McLaren offered me a proper seat. Real deal. They wanted me.”

“So you picked them,” she said.

“Yeah. I signed with McLaren. And then Alpine’s team principal — Otmar — lost it. Tried to sue me.”

She blinked at him. “Wait. What? Like — actual legal action?”

He nodded, looking faintly amused. “Yeah. They took it to the Contract Recognition Board, tried to argue I was theirs and McLaren had no claim. But it didn’t go anywhere. The CRB ruled I was free to go. McLaren had the real contract. That was that.”

She stared at him, lips parted in disbelief. “You had a team try to drag you through court because you didn’t want to drive for them?”

He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, though the muscle in his jaw ticked slightly. “Yeah. It was stressful. It sucked, honestly, especially because it was all happening during the first few races of the season. But McLaren were amazing through all of it. They backed me.”

Francesca looked at him, a little in awe. “That’s… insane. No offence, but you’re kind of underselling this. You survived a motorsport custody battle and won.”

He laughed, properly. “It does sound much more dramatic when you put it like that.”

“Because it is dramatic,” she said, nudging his knee with her foot. “God. People online always talk about the politics in F1 but I didn’t realise it was that petty.”

“It can be,” he admitted. “But it worked out. Mclaren’s my home now.” He said.

She smiled at him.

He moved to the other side of the kitchen, pulling open drawers and cabinets, trying to familiarise himself with the space.

She cleared her throat. “Um.”

Oscar looked over. “Yeah?”

She fidgeted slightly, fingers picking at the edge of her dressing gown sleeve. “I, uh… I like your helmet, by the way.”

Oscar looked up from where he was rustling around in a drawer for a spatula. “My — what?”

“Your race helmet,” she clarified quickly, already pink in the cheeks. “The design. The colours. I think it’s cool.”

Oscar paused, blinked once, and then that slow, boyish smirk spread across his face. “Is this…” he started, crossing the small kitchen toward her, “is this like that TikTok trend? The one where girls admit they’re into guys who wear masks and helmets?”

Her eyes went comically large, and then she groaned loudly and buried her face in her hands. “Oh my God.”

“No, no, come on,” he said, grinning as he stepped closer and nudged her knee with his hip. “You like my helmet, huh?”

“I liked it before you made it weird,” she muttered into her palms.

“You like me better with the visor down?” he teased, voice low and amused. “Does it take me look all scary and mysterious?”

She peeked out from between her fingers, glaring at him. “It makes you quiet. That’s the appeal.”

He laughed, light and happy. “Rude.”

“I was trying to be nice,” she mumbled. “I see lots of pictures of you. You look… cool. Really cool. Like you know exactly what you’re doing, even though you say that you’re still learning.”

That softened something in him instantly. His teasing grin faded into something smaller, more genuine.

“Thanks,” he said. “That means a lot.”

She shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant. “It’s just a helmet.”

“No, it’s not,” he said, nudging her leg again, gentler this time. “It’s a big part of the job. You wear one every race, every test. And the design — that’s personal. You pick it. You make it yours. Kind of the only part of the whole thing that’s really yours, you know?”

“I thought that,” she mumbled through her fingers. “Before you made it weird.”

“I didn’t say anything! You’re the one who—”

“Oscar.”

He grinned and leaned forward, nosing her hands out of the way. “Hey,” he said, soft. “Thank you. I like it too. It’s custom painted, you know. I’ve had different designs through the years but the current one, the colours, the patterns, it feels like me.”

She met his eyes again, visibly trying to recover her dignity. “It’s… really nice.” She glanced at her bookshelf, where she kept all of her trinkets. “It’d be cool to have a mini one. To keep there.” She told him.��“On my shelf.”

He kissed her. “I’ll see what I can do.”

—

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bookishgoldie isn’t he😍

—

The room was quiet, dark except for the soft golden spill of the hallway light that Francesca had insisted on leaving on. The bedsheets were warm and a little tangled, kicked down around Oscar’s shins. Francesca was curled up against his chest, her ear pressed over the slow rhythm of his heartbeat, one leg slung lazily over his hips.

It was the first night they’d shared her bed. The couch had been fine — cramped, but fine — and she’d liked the way he hadn’t minded, hadn’t pushed. But this… this felt easier than she thought it would. Softer.

His hand moved slowly up and down her back, tracing the hem of her t-shirt with absent-minded comfort.

“I like your bed,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

She smiled against his skin. “It’s my bed. Of course you do. I also have impeccable taste in blankets.”

He chuckled, low in his chest. “Mmm. Can’t argue with that.”

For a long stretch of moments, there was only silence, shared breaths, and the occasional shift of limbs, adjusting to new closeness. Then Francesca tilted her head just slightly, her cheek still pressed against him.

“Do you want to… I don’t know. Brainstorm date ideas?” she asked softly. “I was thinking about it again earlier.”

Oscar blinked his eyes open, a little surprised. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Her voice was quiet, a little shy. “Just… you know. Not all at once. Just ideas. Things we could do. If I felt up to it.”

His hand stilled on her back for a second, then resumed its slow movements. “I’d love that,” he said. “No pressure. We can keep it all imaginary if that helps.”

She nodded against him. “Imaginary dates are safer.”

He smiled. “Alright. Imaginary date number one: picnic in the park. I bring sandwiches that are way too elaborate because I’m trying to impress you. You bring crisps and get mad when I try to steal them.”

She snorted. “Realistic.”

“Imaginary date number two,” he continued, warming to the game, “I take you to a little museum, rent the entire place out for just us. We look at weird 18th century art and pretend to care about it.”

“That sounds amazing, actually.”

“We leave early because it’s so boring and end up eating fast food in the car.”

“You would be the one to get bored first,” she teased.

“Probably.”

She shifted slightly, snuggling even closer, nose brushing along the edge of his collarbone. “I think I could do a museum. If it was just us.”

Oscar’s heart did something slow and fond in his chest. “If that’s what you want, I’ll make it happen.”

She smiled, sleepy and small. “That’s very boyfriend of you.”

He kissed her hair. “I am your boyfriend.”

“Mm. I like that.”

They lay in silence for a few more moments. Then, in a whisper so quiet he barely caught it, she said, “Thanks.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead and didn’t move them for a long while. “There’s never a rush,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere, ‘Cesca.”

She let out a soft breath. ‘Cesca. Nobody had ever called her that. She liked it.

Then, after a moment, she told him, “I love the beach. I haven’t seen the sea in a long time. Forever, it feels like.”

His thumb rubbed slow circles into her hipbone through the thin fabric of her sleep shorts. “Okay, baby,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “We’ll go.”

She nodded against his chest, and he felt it more than he saw it.

“Okay,” he repeated, this time with a little smile, a little certainty, “but for now, go to sleep.”

“Only if you keep tickling me like that,” she mumbled.

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Deal.”

She melted further into him, her breathing evening out as his hand continued its gentle rhythm.

—

The sun had barely started to rise when Oscar stirred, warm and grounded beneath the Francesca’s weight. She was breathing steadily, her cheek smushed against his chest, legs tangled with his. Her hand, as always, had found the hem of his shirt in her sleep and was fisted there. Soon, all of his shirts would have pull-marks and creases in the front — he couldn’t even force himself to pretend to be bothered by the idea.

He didn’t want to move. But he had an idea.

He leaned down, brushing his nose against her hair, inhaling that sleepy mix of raspberry shampoo and his aftershave that made his heart clench. “Francesca,” he murmured.

She made a soft, displeased sound and burrowed further into him.

He kissed her temple. “Baby, wake up.”

“Mmnnno,” she groaned. “Go away.”

Oscar huffed a quiet laugh and nuzzled behind her ear. “Do you trust me?” He asked quietly.

Still half-asleep, she didn’t even hesitate. “‘Course I do.”

“Good.”

In a practiced motion, he sat up, pulling her with him. She slumped into his chest, blinking slowly.

“What’re you doing?” she mumbled.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed one of his hoodies from the floor and gently tugged it over her head. She whined in protest but didn’t resist, letting him guide her arms through the sleeves. It was far too big on her, hanging down past her thighs, but it would keep her warm, and that’s what mattered.

“Where do you keep your flat keys?” he asked.

She blinked up at him blearily. “My bag. Front pocket.”

He found them easily before coming back, bending down and, without warning, scooped her up into his arms.

She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Oscar!”

“I’m not giving you time to overthink,” he told her.

“This is kidnapping,” she said through a yawn. She buried her face in his neck and inhaled his scent. Then she nipped at the skin above his collarbone. “Don’t put me down.”

He snorted, not even wincing at the sharp pain of her fangs against his skin. “Not kidnapping if you don’t fight me.”

Outside, the morning air was crisp and biting. She shivered, instinctively pressing herself closer into his side, her face still tucked into the crook of his neck. He paused for just a moment, uncertainty flickering through him. Was he pushing her too far? Was this too much, too fast? But she hadn’t pulled away. Hadn’t protested. She’d only held on tighter, quiet and pliant, when he’d whispered a soft “be good” to Henry and locked the flat door behind them.

So he settled her into the passenger seat of the sleek, absurdly expensive car (one of the McLaren courtesy models, perk of the job), and buckled her in. She blinked at the dashboard, then at him.

“This is a spaceship.”

Oscar leaned down to kiss her cheek before closing her door and walking around the car to slide behind into the drivers side.

She didn’t ask questions. She wanted to. The anxiety was curling quietly in her chest, a cold thread of apprehension weaving through her ribs. But she knew asking would make it worse. Knew that the need to control every part of her day was one of the reasons she hadn’t done anything like this in years.

Before even starting the engine, he had one of his big hands on her thigh, his grip tight and grounding and exactly what she hadn’t even realised she needed.

“I trust you,” she said again, barely above a whisper.

His eyes flicked to hers, warm, steady, and he squeezed her thigh in three quick motions. “I know.”

The drive was quiet.

She kept her eyes closed for most of it, focusing on the rhythm of his breathing, the soft hum of the car, the weight of his hand on her leg. When the roads started to widen, when the buildings gave way to trees and hills, she could smell salt on the air and feel the shift in the wind through the cracked window.

Her heart beat like a drum against her ribs.

It was too much.

The world. The movement. The not-knowing.

But she didn’t panic. She let it rise. Let it crest. Let it fall.

Just kept breathing.

When he finally slowed the car, she opened her eyes. The light had shifted, gone golden — soft and hazy with the rise of early morning sun. She blinked, disoriented and heavy with sleep, as he pulled into a small gravel lot nestled against a grassy hill. And when he eased the car into park, she turned her head to look out the window and… froze.

The sea.

Endless. Expansive. Glittering beneath the sunlight.

And just like that, the ringing in her ears stopped. The ache in her chest loosened. She could hear gulls crying overhead. The steady hush of waves meeting the shore. The quiet, constant pull of tide.

“Hey,” Oscar said gently, not looking away from her. “We don’t have to get out of the car. We can just sit here. I just—”

She turned to face him fully, her eyes wide and already brimming with tears. He hesitated.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of you not having seen the sea in so long,” he said softly. “Not when you clearly love it so much.”

The tears slipped free.

Francesca covered her face with both hands and sobbed.

Not loud. Not panicked.

Just quietly. Fully. Overwhelmed.

Oscar leaned across the console, wrapping an arm around her and tugging her onto his lap. She curled up into him.

“I’m sorry,” she choked out.

“Don’t be,” he whispered. “You’re okay. You’re so brave, baby. So good. I’m here.”

She clung to his hoodie like a lifeline, breathing him in.

And for the first time in years, she let herself be small in someone else’s care.

They stayed like that for a long time. Not speaking. Just existing.

When she was ready, when her breathing steadied and her hands stopped shaking, she pulled back and looked out at the water again.

“It’s so blue,” she whispered.

He smiled. “It is.”

“I forgot how it sounded.”

“Now you can remember.”

She turned to look at him, her face blotchy and red and beautiful. “You really didn’t have to do this. I- I might’ve freaked out on you. Made a scene.”

“You can make as many scenes as you want,” he said again. “But I will always try to give you what I think you need, yeah? Always.”

Francesca reached up and touched his cheek, brushing her thumb along the edge of his jaw.

“I- you know, Osc.” she whispered.

Oscar’s heart stopped. Then surged.

He leaned in, rested his forehead against hers.

“Yeah. I know.” he whispered back. “I know.”

With the sea as witness, she leaned up and brushed her lips against his jaw.

—

ONE WEEK LATER

Oscar was in Mexico.

Francesca and Katie were in her flat, the race coverage playing at a low volume on the TV as they chased Henry around the living room with a feather toy that had arrived two days ago — a surprise Amazon delivery tied with a note in Oscar’s handwriting, “for the little bastard”.

Francesca had laughed for ten minutes straight when she opened it. Katie had filmed the whole thing and, after stealing his number from Francesca’s phone, had sent it to Oscar, along with a voice note that simply said, “I don’t think it was that funny.”

Now, Henry was a blur of zoomies, paws skidding on the hardwood as he launched himself under the sofa to hide from the feathered menace. Francesca collapsed backward against the cushions, breathless and flushed. Katie flopped down beside her.

On the TV, the camera cut to a live shot of Oscar standing in the paddock. His race suit was half-zipped, arms folded casually as he chatted to his engineer, sun beating down on the brim of his cap. He was grinning at something, head tipped slightly to the side.

Francesca went quiet. Just… watching. Soaking him in through the screen like it might bring him closer.

Katie nudged her with a toe. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I just— I get it. Why they put up with long flights and stupid time zones and overpriced airport water. I’d do it. For him.”

Katie’s face softened. “You don’t have to prove anything, you know. You being here, letting him in, the fact you’re even saying that stuff out loud — that’s a lot already.”

“I know,” Francesca whispered. “I just think… he makes me brave.”

The feather toy squeaked as Henry pounced again, launching himself at Katie’s leg with the precision of a tiny, sharp-clawed assassin. She screamed, jerking her leg away and nearly spilling the tea she’d balanced on the arm of the sofa.

“Bastard!” she shouted, glaring at the cat now crouched smugly by the TV stand, tail swishing.

“Shit,” Katie murmured, genuinely impressed as she leaned forward. “He’s good, then.”

“The best,�� Francesca replied without hesitation.

The footage shifted to Oscar on the podium in Japan, then in Qatar, smile boyish and eyes squinting beneath the bright lights as champagne sprayed from either side. Francesca felt her heart swell and ache at the same time.

“He’s going to win an award,” she added softly. “Rookie of the Year. From the FIA — the people who run the whole thing. He keeps trying to act like it’s not a big deal, but it is. There’s a gala and everything.”

Katie glanced over, eyebrow raised. “He tell you that?”

“I… looked it up,” Francesca admitted, shrugging with a sheepish smile. “The night he told me he might win. I couldn’t sleep, so I just kept Googling stuff. The voting, the dress code, past winners…”

“You’re obsessed.” Katie giggled.

“Not obsessed,” she said, nudging Katie with her foot. “Just… proud. And maybe a little bit obsessed.”

Katie laughed. “Okay, but like, in a really soft girlfriend way. Not a weird clipboard-and-red-string-stalker way.”

Francesca flushed. “I’m just trying to understand it all. His world. Because he makes so much space for mine.”

Katie was quiet for a moment. Then, “He’s very fucking lucky to have you.”

“I think it’s the other way around,” Francesca said quietly.

The camera cut to him again. He ducked his head.

“He doesn’t really know how to be the centre of attention. Which is crazy, considering the job he’s chosen.” Francesca laughed.

Katie tilted her head. “Sounds like he’s found the right person to help balance all that out, huh.”

Francesca didn’t say anything at first. Just sat there, curled up in the corner of the sofa, the TV screen casting soft flashes of light across her face.

Then, almost to herself, “I think I want to go to the gala with him. If he gets the award.”

Katie blinked. “I— Uh. Wow. That’s… big. Seriously?”

Francesca nodded, tucking her knees closer to her chest, arms wrapped tight around them. “I want to be there. I want to see him get it, hug him, tell him how proud of him I am.”

It came out calmly. Almost too calmly. Because inside, her heart was thudding like it had suddenly remembered all the reasons why that was a bad idea.

First, she’d have to travel to even get there — multiple planes, cars, etc. The venue would be huge. People would be watching. She’d have to wear something elegant, maybe heels — God, the idea of heels made her stomach flip. There’d be lights and flashing cameras and probably hounds of press. She could already feel the too-tight air in her chest, her body doing that thing where it anticipated danger before there even was any.

Katie hesitated, and Francesca braced — because she knew what was coming.

“Are you sure?” her friend asked softly. “I mean… that’s a lot, Fran.”

Francesca’s throat tightened almost immediately. She looked down at her hands, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve instead of the skin that was itching to be scratched and tugged and twisted.

“I know,” she said quickly. Too quickly. “I know it’s a lot. But it’s not like it’s next week or anything. There’s time. Months, even. And—”

She paused, squeezed her eyes shut for a second, then forced herself to breathe. To make the next words come out like they were calm and considered, instead of shaky and sitting way too close to fear.

“And it’ll take a lot of therapy. Like, probably multiple sessions just to deal with the dress shopping part. And definitely a higher dose of medication than I’m on right now. But… I want to do it. Not even just for him. For me.”

Katie’s expression softened instantly — because of course it did. She loved her. Francesca knew that. But the worry didn’t leave her eyes, didn’t waver. It was still there, settled in the tight line of her mouth, the way her fingers drummed absently against her knee.

“I know,” Katie said, voice low. “And I see that. How hard you’re trying. How far you’ve come. But… you also mask it really well. You always have. And I know what it looks like when you burn out. When you go too hard and then crash so badly it takes you weeks to feel even remotely human again.”

Francesca chewed on her bottom lip.

It was the truth, and it stung. But it wasn’t unfair.

“I don’t want that for you,” Katie added gently. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this, just because you like him, or because you want to prove you can.”

Francesca looked over at the TV, at the basically-muted coverage still looping behind them. A slow-motion shot of Oscar stepping into his car, pulling on his helmet, caught in profile — calm and sharp.

“I know I’ve done that before,” she said, her voice soft. “Made myself sick just to prove something. But this… this feels different.”

Katie was quiet.

“I want to be someone who shows up, you know?” Francesca continued, her voice shaking despite her best efforts. “I want to be there when they call his name. I want to experience the joy with him.” Her hands clenched briefly, and then she forced herself to loosen them. “I don’t want to live in this safe little box forever. I want more.”

Katie’s eyes were glossy now, but she smiled too. “Okay,” she said. “Okay. God, I can’t believe those words just came out of your mouth. I’m so bloody proud of you.”

Francesca exhaled, letting herself fall sideways against Katie’s shoulder, their heads leaning together.

“You’re gonna look hot as fuck,” Katie said after a beat.

Francesca laughed — a real laugh, bubbling up unexpectedly.

She didn’t think it would ever truly go away — the debilitating fear, the constant, clawing need to be surrounded by safety and warmth. That wasn’t how agoraphobia worked. It could get better, sure. There would be progress, steps forward, days where the world felt a little less sharp around the edges. But would it ever vanish completely?

Probably not.

Still, she could learn how to live with it. How to manage the spikes of panic, the silent spirals. How to catch herself before the fall.

Oscar had shown her that it was possible — that the world didn’t have to stay small and suffocating forever. That the sea was still hers if she wanted it. That safety could exist outside the four walls of her flat.

He’d shown her what it meant to be cared for without conditions, to be seen and still held gently. If she asked for the world, he’d put it in her hands. No hesitation. No doubt.

She reached for her tea and took a sip. Her hands still trembled.

But she held it steady.

—

TWO DAYS LATER

iMessage — Francesca & Oscar

Francesca

gonna walk to a café

i’m scared lol

His reply came almost instantly, despite the time difference.

Oscar

u got this baby

text me when you’re there

proud of you already 🧡

She stared at the screen for a moment, clutching the phone to her chest. Then, with a shaky breath, she pulled on her coat, slid her flat keys into her pocket, and stepped out of her building.

It hit her all at once — the cold air, the stretch of sky overhead, the noise of the street. Her pulse jumped. Her brain started whispering all the familiar taunts — what if you can’t breathe? What if you freeze? What if everyone sees you fall apart?

She stopped. Planted her feet. Breathed in.

What do you see? her therapist had said once, when she’d asked how to stop dissociating when things got scary. Don’t run from the world around you. Notice it.

So Francesca noticed.

The glint of morning sun on parked cars. The little cloud her breath made in the air. A dog straining at its lead, ears perked. A crisp packet doing a sad little tumble across the pavement. A window-box full of drooping flowers that someone hadn’t remembered to water.

Her heart still raced, but her feet kept moving.

By the time she reached the café, her fingers were frozen and her stomach was doing that slow, swooping panic thing it did — but then she spotted Katie by the window, already waving.

Francesca pushed through the door. The bell jingled above her head. The warmth and scent of coffee hit her like a hug.

Katie was up in a flash, wrapping her in a real one. “You did it,” she whispered. “I’m so proud of you.”

Francesca didn’t trust herself to speak just yet. Her eyes were hot and blurry with tears, but she nodded, and let herself lean into Katie’s warmth.

They sat by the window. Ordered muffins and flat whites, Francesca’s with oat milk.

Francesca’s hands trembled around the mug at first. But Katie didn’t mention it — just kept talking, light and breezy, about some ridiculous email thread she’d been stuck in that morning.

And slowly, Francesca started to relax. Her fingers stilled. Her chest loosened. She took a bite of her muffin and actually tasted it — lemon and poppy seed, bright and soft.

Out on the street, life moved around her. A child in a school uniform trailed a parent, kicking a pebble. A bus drove by, and the windows slowly got misty from inside. Someone laughed across the room.

And Francesca realised, quietly, achingly, that the world could still be hers, in any way she wanted it.

They didn’t stay long, maybe an hour and a half, but by the time Francesca got back to her front door, her legs felt like lead.

Katie had walked her home, not hovering but close enough that it didn’t feel like she was alone. They didn’t talk much after leaving the café — just a few quiet murmurs about Henry and whether they’d both want to have a pizza night this week — but Katie squeezed her hand before heading off.

Inside, Francesca shut the door behind her and let her back hit it, sliding down until she was sitting on the floor.

Her hands were cold. Her face was flushed. Her heart was still a little loud. But…

She’d done it.

She fished out her phone and typed, thumbs slower than usual, deliberate.

—

iMessage — Francesca & Oscar

Francesca

i did it

it was cold. i should’ve worn gloves

but the muffin was good

It took less than a minute before Oscar replied.

Oscar

What flavour muffin did you get baby

Francesca

lemon and poppyseed

i wanted chocolate but they’d sold out

Oscar

How dare they

I’ll UberEats a chocolate muffin to the flat

So proud of you baby

Francesca

—

She really didn’t mean to write the whole thing.

At first, it was just a paragraph — a single paragraph that came to her in the shower and refused to leave her alone. Then it became a scene, and then a chapter, and then, somehow, fourteen days later…

“I think I blacked out,” she said, eyes wide, cradling a mug of tea. “I opened a blank word document and now I have… 82,000 words.”

Katie just stared at her. “I— What?”

“I finished the draft. Of the thing. The book.” Francesca said slowly. “Like, the whole thing. Beginning, middle, end. There’s an actual story in there. Characters. Pacing. A climax. I have no idea how it happened.”

Katie slowly lowered the spoon she’d been stirring her coffee with, mouth parted. “Francesca. Babe. That’s… that’s bananas. You wrote a whole book in two weeks?”

“I didn’t try to,” she said, almost sheepishly. “It just kind of… poured out. I couldn’t stop. It felt like if I did, I’d forget how to do it.”

Katie got up from the kitchen table and crossed to her, putting both hands gently on her shoulders. “That’s amazing. It’s also extremely unhinged, but in a way that I deeply respect.”

Francesca laughed — properly laughed — and it felt so surprising in her own mouth that she covered it with one hand, like it might escape again if she wasn’t careful. “I think it might be crap.”

“It probably isn’t,” Katie said with a smile. “You’re just your own worst critic.”

Later on, when Katie was gone and the sun had started to set, she sent a photo to Oscar — her laptop open on the coffee table, the word count highlighted in red.

—

iMessage — Francesca & Oscar

Francesca

author gf vibe.

Oscar

So many words

No explanation

Francesca

i kinda finished writing the book

Oscar

I think you mean started writing it

Two weeks ago.

Francesca

i guess i found my groove

i also think i have carpal tunnel now

my hands are very sore

Oscar

You’re crazy. I can’t wait to read it, baby

—

liked by oscarpiastri, flonorris, and 64,529 others

bookishgoldie hi. posted a vid on youtube and it’s pretty special to me. go give it a watch ❤️ love ya’ll

view all comments

user64 YOU’RE WRITING A BOOK?!!!!!

user52 i really appreciate u being so open about your mental health. it helps SO MANY PEOPLE

—

Her camera was rolling, the soft ring light casting a gentle glow over Francesca’s face. She stared at the blinking red dot for a long moment, gathering herself.

“Hi,” she said, finally, her voice still a little scratchy from nerves. “Um. It’s been a while. I missed last weeks upload. Sorry about that.”

She gave a sheepish little smile, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Her dressing gown had been swapped out for a black hoodie, soft and oversized — not hers, technically, but she didn’t think anyone would notice. Unless they looked close enough to see the little orange swoop on the left shoulder.

“I’ve been… working. A lot.” A pause. “And not just on my usual content. I’ve been working on myself, too. I’ve made some really big progress with my mental health. Not linear. Not easy. But… real. Lots of therapy. I kinda, like, actually leave the flat now.” Her voice caught slightly, but she kept going. “I’m still scared most of the time, but I’m learning how to deal with that in a healthy way.”

She let out a long breath, then reached down, holding up a printed stack of pages — thick, with a title page on top. “Anyway. I wrote a book.”

A beat. A smile. That dazed, giddy kind that always came when she said it aloud.

“I know. Wild. It just kind of… spilled out of me. And I’m still in shock. But it’s happening. It’s a romance, obviously.” Her smile twitched into something shyer. “I really enjoyed writing it, which is probably why I managed to do it so fast. I had some good inspiration.”

She bit her lip, trying and failing not to blush, then looked off camera briefly. “I’ll be sharing more soon,” she said, regaining her footing. “It’s still early days — editing, cover design, all the terrifying fun stuff. But it’s coming. And I wanted you to hear it from me first.”

There was a pause. Then, quieter, “Thank you for sticking with me. Even when I disappear sometimes. Even when I get scared to do this. It means more to me than you know.”

She reached out to stop the recording — then hesitated.

“Oh — and no, this hoodie isn’t mine. I stole it. No follow-up questions.”

Click.

—

Top Comments:

@litwitch420

the way you casually drop “I wrote a book” like that isn’t the most iconic thing you’ve ever done. proud of you, bestie.

@hannahsbookshelf

I don’t even care what the book is about. I’m buying ten copies. One for me, nine for the girl who couldn’t leave the house but still kept trying

@crymewithcoffee

not Francesca writing a book, going to therapy, AND soft-launching in the same video… multitasking queen.

@thisissochaotic

“i leave the flat now” I’M SOBBINGGGG you don’t understand how proud I am. been here since the ‘flop eyeliner tutorial’ days and this is the growth arc of the century.

@traumabrat98

Been battling agoraphobia for years and this gives me hope. Thank you.

@henryhasfans

I’m only here for Henry tbh but good for you I guess (jk I’m so proud of you I’m crying and I’d die for you)

@softestheartsclub

Your face when you talked about “the boy” 😭 you glowed. I don’t even need to meet him — if he made you write a whole book and start living again?? he’s a keeper.

@pidgeinajar

idk who needs to hear this but francesca wearing Someone Else’s hoodie while announcing her debut novel and mental health glow-up is PEAK soft girl renaissance

—

The front door clicked open with a soft thunk, and before Francesca could even reach it, Oscar was already inside, dropping his bag beside the shoe rack and wrapping her up in a hug so tight her feet left the ground.

“Hi,” she murmured into the side of his neck, her grin buried in his neck. “Welcome back.”

“Hi,” he said, kissing the side of her head, voice low and tired and happy. “Missed you.”

There were flowers in his hand — some daisies, a few sunflowers, wildly uncoordinated colours like he'd grabbed whatever looked brightest at the airport. A few petals had fallen off in transit. Still, they were perfect.

Francesca reached for them, heart too full. “These are tragic and I love them.”

Oscar gave her a sheepish smile. “Thought they looked happy.”

Before she could respond, Katie stepped out from the kitchen holding three glasses of Prosecco, eyebrows shooting up.

“Oh my god, you’re real,” Katie said, walking toward them with a glass of Prosecco in each hand, the third awkwardly balanced between her elbow and her ribs. They were celebrating the completion of Francesca’s first draft. “I was starting to think you were just one of Francesca’s very elaborate delusions. Like the time she thought the pigeon outside her window was trying to communicate with her through Morse code.”

“I— that was one time,” Francesca groaned, her voice muffled against Oscar’s shoulder. She didn’t move away from him, though — fingers curled into the hem of his t-shirt like muscle memory, like she needed to know he was still there. Still real.

Oscar’s arm stayed wrapped around her waist, steady and warm.

He glanced between the two women, visibly entertained. “Hi,” he said, smile crooked. “Francesca’s told me a lot about you.”

Katie handed over his glass, eyes scanning his face with barely disguised curiosity. She didn’t say anything immediately — just sipped her drink and narrowed her eyes slightly, like she was assessing a very expensive, very complicated piece of IKEA furniture.

Oscar didn’t flinch under the scrutiny, though his hand did tighten ever so slightly at Francesca’s waist.

“She better have,” Katie finally said, tone light but edged. “I’m very important to her.”

Francesca groaned again. “Katie.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Oscar said, a little too quickly, already half-grinning. “I get it. Honestly… I like knowing you two are so close.”

Katie raised a brow, as if surprised by his easy sincerity.

“I mean it,” he added, glancing down at Francesca, then back up. “You’re important to her. And I’m really glad that there’s someone else who sees her the way I do.”

Katie’s expression softened, just a bit.

“Well,” she said, after a beat, “good answer.”

Oscar smiled. “Thanks. Felt like a test.”

“Oh, it was.” Katie clinked her glass against his. “And you’re not done yet. But… you’re doing alright so far.”

Francesca laughed into his chest. “You’re both so annoying.”

“You love us,” Katie shot back, giving Francesca a quick, affectionate pat on the arm as she breezed past. “Now come on, there’s cake, and I’m not slicing it until everyone’s in the kitchen.”

Like she hadn’t just casually dropped the big L word.

Like she hadn’t just implied that.

Oh my god.

Francesca’s brain stalled, cheeks warming as she blinked rapidly up at Oscar, who, mercifully, didn’t seem to be reacting with any kind of alarm.

Instead, he watched Katie retreat into the kitchen, then leaned down to murmur near her ear, “She’s intense. I like her.”

Francesca huffed a quiet laugh, the tension bleeding from her shoulders. “Told you she’d be like this.”

He smiled, warm and genuine, eyes soft as they met hers. “Yeah. She loves you,” he added, like it was the simplest truth in the world.

Francesca’s throat tightened unexpectedly. It hit her somewhere deep, that quiet reassurance. That he wasn’t threatened by the friendship she shared with Katie, or overwhelmed by the depth wrapped around it. That he saw the weight of it and respected it.

“I’m lucky,” she said, voice a little rough.

Oscar’s thumb brushed her knuckles. “You’re loved.”

She rose onto her toes and kissed him. Just a press of her mouth to his, gentle and real. Something in her saying thank you without needing the words.

Oscar stilled for a beat, surprised by her initiating it, maybe, and then kissed her back with a soft hum in his throat, his hand cupping the back of her neck. It was brief, sweet, but lingered in the same way that it always did with them.

When she pulled back, her cheeks were warm and her eyes a little too shiny.

Oscar’s voice was quiet when he spoke. “Hi again.”

She laughed, the sound muffled as she dropped her forehead against his chest. “Hi.”

From the kitchen, Katie’s voice rang out. “If you two are done making out, the cake is getting impatient!”

Francesca snorted into Oscar’s shirt.

He just smiled and whispered, “Come on. Let’s go celebrate.”

—

It was late by the time Katie left, the last crumbs of cake still on their dirty plates piled up in the sink. Francesca had smiled so much her cheeks were aching, and Oscar hadn’t stopped touching her all evening. Little things like his hand at the small of her back, arm around her waist, kisses on her knuckles whenever he could.

Now, the flat was quiet again. Just the two of them.

She stood in the doorway to her bedroom, brushing her teeth with one hand, the other lazily twisting the hem of Oscar’s shirt. He was already in bed, hair slightly damp from the shower he’d taken, propped up against the pillows, scrolling absently through something on his phone. Shirtless.

She watched him for a second.

Noticed the strong slope of his shoulders, the thickness of his neck, the way his chest rose and fell in that even, sleepy rhythm. He looked up when he felt her staring.

“Hi, beautiful girl.” he said.

She grinned at him around her toothbrush, cheeks pink.

As soon as she’d rinsed her mouth out in the sink, she padded over to the bed on bare feet, curling up beside him under the duvet, slotting her body into the space he immediately opened for her.

“You’re so warm,” she mumbled against his skin, her fingers curling lightly at his side, nails digging into his skin.

“So are you,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch feather-light. “Everything okay?”

She nodded, eyes half-lidded. “Just… full of cake. And happiness.”

Oscar didn’t say anything for a beat. Just looked at her, his gaze soft, reverent in the dim lamplight. “I’m so proud of you.”

She smiled, shy, teeth tugging at her bottom lip. “You brought me flowers.”

“Half-crushed ones, yeah,” he chuckled.

“They were perfect,” she whispered.

Their lips met, slow and soft. No rush, just heat, rising in degrees, like a pot of water on an open flame. Simmering, simmering.

His hand slid down to her hip, not demanding, just there, grounding. Her fingers fanned out across his chest, slow and steady.

“Is this okay?” he asked against her mouth.

She nodded, then leaned in to kiss him again, more insistently. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

He shifted them gently, giving her room to roll onto her back, then hovered above her, foreheads nearly touching. His hands explored with care; the curve of her waist, the dip just beneath her ribs. He stared at every movement his hand made, like he was trying to memorise every inch of her body.

“You tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured. “You tell me, and I’ll stop.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I don’t want you to stop, though.”

He kissed her again, her mouth, her neck, the hollow beneath her ear, and her body arched instinctively into him.

His fingers slipped beneath the hem of her (his) shirt, resting warm and still against her bare stomach, waiting. She nodded once, more sure about this than she’d ever been about anything, and he peeled it off with the same gentleness that he reserved only for her.

When she tried to cover herself, out of habit more than fear, he caught her hands gently.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “You’re so beautiful, ‘Cesca.”

She flushed. “You always say that. Call me that. Beautiful.”

“Because it’s always true.”

He kissed his way down her chest, slow and careful, taking care to notice every little reaction she gave him. Every time her breath caught, he paused. Every time she arched up to meet him, he smiled into her skin.

Her legs parted to welcome him without needing to be asked. The weight of him above her, around her, was a certain kind of comfort. And when he finally slid into her, it wasn’t shocking or overwhelming or intrusive.

It was right.

She let out a shaky exhale, fingers digging into his shoulders, eyes fluttering closed.

Oscar stilled, forehead resting against hers. “Okay?”

She opened her eyes. Nodded.

And then he moved.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t even really about sex. It was about them being together, like this. About breathing the same air, pressing close enough that the fear didn’t stand a chance. He held her hand the whole time, fingers interlaced, their bodies shifting in the slowest, most perfect rhythm.

She let the thrill of sensations roll over her, the heat, the fullness, the sharp pulse of her heart softening into something sweeter. Safe. Loved.

When she came, it surprised her. Gentle and deep and unlike anything she’d felt before. Her breath caught in her throat, a tear slipping down her temple as Oscar murmured her name, again and again, grounding her in the present.

He followed soon after, with a deep grunt and a tremble that echoed down to his toes. And when it was over, he didn’t move. Just kissed her. Tucked her hair back. Pressed their foreheads together.

“I love you,” he whispered, like he hadn’t meant to say it yet, but couldn’t not.

She blinked up at him, wide-eyed. Her chest ached, in the best way.

“I love you too,” she said softly, voice trembling but sure.

Later, they curled around each other, her head resting on his chest, one leg slung loosely over his. The sheets were tangled around their hips, warm with the quiet hum of leftover heat between them. His hand moved in lazy circles on her bare back, soothing and unthinking.

Francesca let herself melt into it. The rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat — her new favourite sound.

Her voice came soft, nearly lost in the hush of the room. “Can you take me back to the sea tomorrow morning?”

Oscar’s fingers paused for a second. Just a second. Then he resumed the gentle motion, even slower now. He tilted his head so his lips brushed her hair. “Of course I can.”

—

Oscar was sleeping, one arm draped around her waist, his breath warm and even against the back of her neck.

Francesca reached carefully for her phone on the nightstand, trying not to wake him. Her fingers hovered over the screen for a second, heart still fluttering with something so tender and unreal she could barely believe it had happened.

But it had.

They’d said it.

She opened her messages, scrolled to Katie’s name.

—

iMessage — Katie & Francesca

Katie

we said the L word

he said it first

and i said it back

katie. i think i’m in love with this man. like properly. like forever.

—

Oscar shifted behind her, murmuring something incoherent, and nuzzled into her shoulder with a content sigh. Her heart ached in the best way.

—

Katie

SHUT THE FUCK UP

Are you still breathing

Francesca

i would follow this man into war

im a new woman. i am reborn.

we. had. SEX.

like actual sex. not metaphorical holding-hands-and-weeping sex.

REAL. NAKED. BODY-TO-BODY. SEX.

and it was so good i think i saw god.

i am speaking to you as a ghost. i have perished. i have transcended.

i am levitating in the corner of my bedroom.

Katie

I’m not afraid to block you.

…

Is he… big?

Francesca

NO. MINE. BACK OFF HARLOT.

Katie

Jesus Christ

It was that good huh

Francesca

I. Transcended.

—

Francesca’s hand was tucked securely in Oscar’s. The world was still quiet, save for the cry of gulls and the rhythmic crash of the waves.

Oscar nudged her gently. “You look happy.”

“I am,” she said honestly. “It’s like my brain is breathing. I’m not… scared.”

He was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Do you think you’d ever want to live somewhere like this? Near the water?”

She glanced sideways at him, brows raising slightly. “Like… move?”

He shrugged, but the question lingered in the air. “Maybe. Someday.”

Francesca didn’t answer right away. They kept walking. The breeze picked up, tugging her hair, and he watched as she closed her eyes for a second, just breathing in the salty sea air.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I mean, my flat is my safety net. My bubble. But this… this doesn’t feel scary. Not with you.” She paused, then added, “I think… it would be possible. Maybe with my therapist on speed dial.”

Oscar smiled. “I could make that happen.”

She rolled her eyes fondly. “You- I mean, is that something you want? To live near the water?”

“I think it’d be nice.” He said, noncommittal, but honest.

“If I ever did leave my flat behind… it would have to be for something really, really good. Somewhere Henry would be able to call home for the rest of his life. Somewhere I could always rely on to feel secure.”

Oscar stopped walking. Tugged her closer until she was pressed against his chest.

“Baby,” he murmured.

She looked up at him, squinting against the morning light. “And I’d want to be with someone who makes me happy, as often as possible. Not always, but… often.”

He leaned down and kissed her, salt on their lips, sunlight on their skin.

“Okay,” he said, smiling against her mouth. “I’ll work on that.”

When they started walking again, her hand found his once more, thumb tracing the back of his knuckles.

Oscar was quiet. Thinking.

Not in the way that meant worry, more like… turning over puzzle pieces.

“I think you’d like Monaco,” he said eventually, voice soft and a little far-off. “It’s warm all year. Sunny. You could leave the windows open and let the air in, not just light.”

She glanced at him. “That’s a big change from London, huh.” She said, quietly.

“Maybe,” he said, not even bothering to deny it. “It’s small, too. The whole country. You wouldn’t ever feel lost in it. Everything’s within reach. You can walk almost everywhere. I know all the quiet spots.”

Francesca blinked. “You… you want me to live in Monaco?”

“I want you with me,” he said, simply. “And I want you to feel safe somewhere that we can both call home forever. I think it could be a good place for you. No pressure, obviously. Just—” He glanced at her. “I think about it sometimes. You, there. Henry too. Able to watch the water from a balcony.”

She was quiet.

“You’d be busy,” she said after a moment, her voice low. “With racing. And everything else. I’d be on my own a lot.”

Oscar didn’t pretend otherwise. He gave a small, thoughtful nod, thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Yeah. But I’d come home to you. Every time. And… you wouldn’t really be alone. You’d never be far from someone you know.” He hesitated, then added, “The girls— I mean, if you wanted to know them.”

She turned her head slightly to look at him. “The girls… You mean the WAGs?”

Oscar’s nose scrunched a little, bashful. “They’re all nice. Some of them travel with us, but not all of them.”

Francesca hummed, then looked back out toward the water. A gull wheeled overhead, shrieking. The waves were starting to turn silver at the edges now, sun climbing higher.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that, Osc.” Her words were barely more than a whisper. “I— It excites me, though. The idea of making somewhere our home. And I do like the idea of being able to see the water from my window. Or a balcony, like you said.”

He didn’t push. Didn’t try to convince her. Just reached for her hand and tangled their fingers again. “Want to pick up pastries on the way home?” He asked.

She looked at him incredulously. “Uh. Yeah. When have you ever known me to say no to a pastry?”

He rolled his eyes at her, and then he kissed her.

Just because he could.

—

iMessage — Francesca & Katie

Francesca

hypothetically. in the future.

if one were to move to monaco. like monaco monaco. the fancy boat people place.

would that be a terrible decision or just like. a very bold rebrand.

asking for a friend (me)

also oscar told me he’d wait forever if it meant i’d be happy and i almost fainted like a victorian man seeing ankle for the first time.

Katie

When you say “in the future”

Do you mean 5 years or 5 weeks because those are very different things fran

Francesca

I HAVEN’T EVEN MET HIS FAMILY YET

he hasn’t met MY family yet

i’m still trying to mentally prepare for him being in the same room as my sister

we’re not there yet

we’re like. emotionally there. but logistically? spiritually?? maybe not. idk.

Katie

Answer my question you scoundrel.

Francesca

I DONT KNOW

maybe 5 months

maybe a year

maybe never

but also maybe i’ll wake up tomorrow and pack a suitcase and just see what happens

is this what love does??? it makes you consider international relocation???

Katie

It absolutely does.

And also you’re unwell. Deeply. Fundamentally.

But in like. A beautiful way.

Pls continue

Francesca

his eyes are so brown.

like unfairly brown.

like melted chocolate mmmmmm yummy

Katie

I’m gonna need you to calm down before you start a fire in your PHONE

What is this?? Shakespeare meets horny tumblr??

Pull yourself together girl

Francesca

i can’t

he said “baby, you’re all I want” last night and i saw god

like my brain blue-screened

if he blinks at me too lovingly again i’m going to dissolve into mist

Katie

ok nope. i'm out.

i’ve reached my francesca-in-love limit for the day

you’re talking like a victorian poet who just discovered lust and it’s deeply upsetting me

Francesca

LMAO

wait no come back

i haven’t even gotten to the part where he called me a good girl

Katie

🔇

this is me putting you on mute.

tell oscar to pay my therapy bills

Francesca

lol x

i’ll invoice him in kisses.

CHAPTER SEVEN

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hrtwayne · 19 days ago

Text

Guilty as Sin? || Alessia Russo

Pairing: Alessia Russo x Fem!Reader

Summary: On a stormy September night, you realize the love of your life was closer than you ever imagined.

Note: English isn’t my first language!

Warning: Mention of breakups, Alessia and Reader being completely oblivious!

Masterlist | Women's Football Masterlist

It was a little past 1:15 in the morning when you sat on the porch to watch the rain, which had intensified over the last fifteen minutes. The downpour hammered against the windows, and thunder rumbled across the dark sky, briefly illuminating the room you were sharing with Alessia that night.

You had woken up just a few minutes earlier, stirred by the storm, tossing and turning in bed as if the rain had only worsened your already terrible sleep routine. Wrapped in Alessia’s worn-out hoodie, you took a deep breath, letting the night’s cold contrast with the warmth that piece of fabric—and everything it represented—brought to your body.

There was something almost ironic about the situation. Just a few weeks ago, you had ended a relationship you once thought would last forever. Something that, in your mind, should have culminated in promises and rings. But when the tears came, when the emptiness settled in your chest, the first person you thought of wasn’t your mother, your longtime best friends, or even your team.

It was Alessia.

And Alessia, as always, showed up. Without hesitation, without question. She took the first flight from London, crossed oceans and time zones just to sit beside you on the floor, listening in silence, holding your hands as you poured your heart out between sobs. Now, in that stormy early morning, you weren’t crying anymore. But your heart was far from at peace.

Because something had changed. Or rather, something that had always been there—something you had never allowed to take shape in your thoughts—now imposed itself with an almost painful clarity. The hug before bed.

Alessia had wrapped her strong arms around you, pulling you close as if you were something precious, something she was afraid to lose. And for the first time, you had felt something different. Alessia’s touch wasn’t just comforting—it was electrifying. The warmth of her skin, the scent of her shampoo, the sound of her calm breathing near your ear. All of it made your heart race in a way no girlfriend ever had.

And now, alone on the porch, you finally admitted it to yourself:

I love her.

Not as a friend. Not as a sister. But in a way that terrified you—because it was intense, deep, and above all, without guarantees.

The creak of the door pulled you from your thoughts.

"You should be sleeping, darling." Alessia’s voice was soft but laced with concern.

You turned slowly, meeting the footballer’s blue eyes, still heavy with sleep. Alessia wore nothing but a jacket draped over her shoulders, her blonde hair disheveled, as if she’d gotten up in a hurry.

"Mhm, I just needed some air." You lied, trying to mask the tremor in your voice.

Alessia frowned but didn’t push. Instead, she stepped closer and placed a hand on your shoulder—her touch so familiar and yet, now, so loaded with meaning.

"You’ll get sick standing out here in the rain." She murmured, her fingers lightly gripping the fabric of the hoodie. "So that’s where my hoodie went."

You smiled, unable to muster a response.

"Come on." Alessia held out her hand. *"Let’s get you something warm to drink."

And you followed. Like you always did. Because when Alessia asked for something, you could never say no.

In the kitchen, Alessia moved with the same confidence she carried on the football pitch. As the kettle heated, she stole glances at you, leaning against the counter as you watched her.

"You should’ve woken me." Alessia said, pouring hot water over the tea bags."You know this lack of sleep is going to catch up with you eventually."

"I know, A."

Alessia sighed, recognizing the resigned tone in your voice. It was always like this when something was bothering you.

"Mhm, you’re coming to the match on Saturday, right?" Alessia changed the subject, her lips curving into a small smile. "I kinda need my good luck charm."

You rolled your eyes, but your heart beat faster.

"You know I am."

Alessia handed you the cup, your fingers brushing for the briefest moment.

"Then I’ll dedicate my goals to you."

You nearly choked.

"Don’t pretend you don’t know, darling." Alessia continued, her eyes gleaming with an intensity you’d never been able to decipher. "I always dedicate my goals to you."

And there, in that dimly lit kitchen, bathed in yellow light, you realized—maybe you weren’t alone in your feelings after all.

Because Alessia didn’t dedicate her goals to just anyone.

Just like you didn’t dedicate your songs to just anyone.

And suddenly, the fear felt a little smaller than the hope.

#alessia russo x y/n #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo #woso imagine #fem reader #woso x reader #woso fanfics #gxg #arsenal women #imagine

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guiltyandashamed · 24 days ago

Text

headcannons: study sessions with each of the brothers

Classes at RAD were rigorous, grueling to the average demon. It was quite the load for a regular human like you. Sometimes there's concepts your human brain can't quite understand, or you get behind on assignments–but not to worry! The 7 brothers are at your service, this is how they come to your aide (successfully or unsuccessfully).

Lucifer – The Relentless Tutor

You don’t ask Lucifer for help. He offers—no, insists—once he catches wind that you’re struggling in a class he deems “foundational.” The study session takes place in his private study, the door locked, the lighting dim and austere. He sits across from you like an immovable force, arms crossed if you're not focused, voice sharp but patient. He makes no concessions for mental fatigue, no “you tried your best”—you will understand summoning theory by the time he’s done. Not because he's being brash, but because he knows you're fully capable.

But when he sees your eyes glaze over, or your shoulders sag in frustration, he pauses. Then, quietly, he pours you a cup of tea–a blend rivaling Barbatos’ refined taste– and asks you to walk him through where you got lost. His tone softens a little. Only a little. “I’m not letting you fail,” he murmurs. “You have more potential than that.” And then the drill begins again, only now he'll occasionally rest his hand over yours to get attention, but he'll hold on to it a little longer as he talks you through it.

Mammon – Chaotic Cramming

Mammon hears you're stressed and shows up to your room with snacks and zero study materials. "C'mon, let’s take a break first, ya look like you’re gonna explode!" One cliche action flick later and you still haven't picked up a book. When you finally remind him he was here to help, he tries to bluff his way through your assignments, confident that he totally remembers this from class. He does not.

But Mammon’s surprisingly useful in one area: staying up with you. If you're pulling an all-nighter, he stays on the bean bag nearby, doodling on your notes or pestering you every ten minutes to eat or drink something. He doesn't understand the material half the time, but he listens when you vent, and he’s always the first to cheer when you finish an assignment. “See? Knew ya could do it,” he says with a grin, ruffling your hair. “And if ya fail, just tell Lucifer I helped ya. That way he’ll blame me instead.”

Leviathan – Shy Helper

You were in Levi's room, studying for an upcoming exam while he lounged in his tub on one of many electriconic devices. Levi pretends not to notice you're struggling at first, but eventually he shuffles over with his tablet, blushing and mumbling, “I, uh, made a quiz game. It’s stupid, but it might help…” He’s turned your study guide into a colorful, anime-themed trivia game, complete with sound effects and Ruri-chan cards as prizes for every streak of correct answers. “Don’t think this means I care or anything,” he says quickly, even as he leans in a little too close to explain the rules. You catch him sneaking glances at you, clearly excited every time you get one right. Soon, he’s explaining concepts through references to obscure anime arcs, slowly warming up as you get more into it.

Later that week, he texts to ask how the exam went—trying to act casual but triple-texting when you don’t answer right away. Whether you passed or not, he shows up at your door with an anime-themed treat box and mutters, “Well, I mean… effort counts too, y’know?” before retreating in a hurry.

Satan - The Professor

And you can't help but admire him, moments like these where he's in his natural element. He’s the one who breaks down complex theories into digestible bits, finds analogies rooted in human literature, and builds personalized study plans tailored to your weaknesses. When you get something right after struggling for hours, he flashes the rarest of smiles—proud, almost smug. “I knew you’d get it.”

Satan treats study sessions like a duel: it’s you against the material, and he’s there to guide you through..It's the perfect stage for him to put his intellect on full display, it's an ego boost the more you improve. He doesn't let you slack—if you try to skip reading something, he gives you that look over the rim of his glasses. He marks your essays with red ink and pointed critiques like he’s your professor. “You can do better,” he says, eyes narrowing. “This conclusion is shallow.”

Asmodeus – Glamorous Distraction

Studying with Asmo is… not studying. He lays out scented candles for “ambience,” dresses in silk loungewear, and insists on doing your skincare routine before you even crack open a textbook. “You can’t focus if you’re tense, darling.” You get through about ten minutes of note-taking before he’s asking you about your crushes or showing you a new mirror selfie.

But when he does help, it’s usually in areas like Demon Rhetoric or Communication. He teaches you how to present, how to charm a teacher into an extension, and how to ace essays with flair. He reads your writing aloud in his dramatic voice, striking poses and gasping at your metaphors. “MC, this is poetry. You’re a genius!" And though it's a little theatrical, you leave his room smiling, a bit more confident in your ability to persuade both demons and professors.

Beelzebub – The Steady Anchor

Beel doesn’t talk much, but he’s the best person to study next to. He sits beside you at the dining table, chewing slowly on a sandwich the size of a textbook while you write. Occasionally he asks what you're working on, and when you explain, he just nods—doesn’t pretend to know, doesn’t interrupt. Just listens.

Sometimes he’ll quiz you in his soft, deep voice, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the table to keep your focus steady. If you get overwhelmed, he gently sets his hand on your back, grounding you. “You’re doing fine,” he says, offering a bite of his snack. You don’t think he understands your magical theory textbook, but it doesn’t matter. Beel’s presence keeps your panic at bay. He's the reason you make it through long nights, comfortable and well fed.

Belphegor - Study Sleeper Agent

You find Belphie asleep on top of the textbook you were looking for. When you ask him to help, he groans and rolls over, muttering something like, “Just skip the class. What are they gonna do? Kill you?” But eventually, he sits up, tousled hair falling into his eyes, and begins explaining the entire Celestial History unit from memory.

Memory consolidation. During sleep, the brain reviews memories, which enhances recall. It sounds effortless, half-asleep and sarcastic, but you realize he’s got the best memory out of all of them. He'll remember specific details from lessons he's slept through, like he kept a filing system in his mind, one which he often neglects due to his sloth. You stare in disbelief and he grins. “Told you I was smart.” Afterward, he lets you curl up beside him, promising to quiz you once he wakes up from his nap. He never does. But the nap makes you remember the lesson, somehow.

#obey me #obey me scenarios #obey me fanfic #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me fluff #obey me headcanons #obey me hcs

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raekensluver · 20 days ago

Note

Could you write something with George realizing how tired reader is and how they’re still trying to spend time with him and do things even though they’re dead on their feet? And George makes them relax and the fall asleep on him?

hiii i hope you don't mind but i combined this with this ask!

contains: established relationship, fluff

george clarke x fem!reader

you don’t mean to fall asleep on him.

you really don’t. you’d texted him just a few hours ago saying you’d come by for dinner- insisting you’d be fine, even after six hours in the library, two energy drinks, and a mock exam that had you nearly in tears in the toilet.

but george knows you.

he knows the set of your shoulders when you walk into his flat, dropping your bag like it’s made of stone. he knows how quiet you get—not the peaceful kind, but the stretched-too-thin kind. like your brain is still in overdrive, even while your body begs to shut down.

“hey, love,” he says, meeting you in the kitchen. “long day?”

you manage a tired smile. “just a bit.”

he presses a kiss to your forehead and doesn’t say anything else, just guides you gently to the couch.

“dinner’ll take a bit. just sit,” he says, already handing you a blanket like it’s a reflex.

you don’t argue. you just sink into the cushions, curled in on yourself. it’s only when he brings you a cup of tea—your favorite, already cooled enough to drink—that he notices your eyes starting to close between sips.

“you alright?” he asks, kneeling in front of you.

you nod, too fast. “yeah. just tired.”

he watches you for a second. then gently takes the mug from your hands and sets it on the table. “alright. come here.”

you blink. “what?”

“c’mere,” he says again, softer this time, tugging you forward just enough so he can sit down and pull you into his side. your head finds his chest automatically, like it belongs there. “you don’t have to stay awake for me, you know.”

“i wanted to see you.”

“and i love that. i do,” he says, his hand stroking up and down your arm. “but you’ve got nothing to prove, yeah? not to me.”

you go quiet then. not because you don’t believe him—george has never once made you feel like you’re not enough—but because the way he says it makes something ache in your chest.

it’s quiet in the flat. the oven hums. outside, it’s raining in that soft, rhythmic way that feels almost staged. your eyes flutter closed again.

george kisses the top of your head, so gently it barely registers.

“get some rest, uni girl,” he murmurs. “i’ve got you.”

and you do. you fall asleep there, tucked against him like he’s your favorite pillow, his arms around you like a shelter.

he doesn’t move.

not when your breathing evens out, not when your phone buzzes twice with reminders, not even when dinner’s ready.

he just holds you.

#george clarkey #george clarke fluff #george clarke #george clarke imagine #george clarke fanfiction #george clarke one shot #george clarke x reader #george clarke imagines #george clarkey x reader #george clarkey fluff #george clarkey imagines #uk youtubers #george clarkey blurb #george clarke blurb #mara's inbox *ੈ✩‧₊˚#mara's anons *ੈ✩‧₊˚

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physics-of-one-piece · 25 days ago

Text

Merlot & Primroses (Doflamingo x Reader)

Chapter 4

AO3

Summary: Your husband’s brother finds you. Life with him and his sham of a family is as cold as the snow your husband was found buried in. You're going to wilt slowly living with Doflamingo, you’re sure. No flower can survive in such snow.

Masterlist

Tags: Female!Reader, Rosinante's Wife!Reader, Civilian!Reader, Rosinante x Reader (mentioned through flashbacks), Kidnapping, Gaslighting, Forced Proximity, Vomiting, Nausea, Panic Attack, Hyperventilating, Forced Hugging, Doflamingo's Comforting Skills are Non-Existent, Attempted Comfort, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Lack of Clothing Autonomy, Lingerie, Mentions of Fratricide, Grief, Angst, Post-Minion Island, North Blue Doflamingo, Red Suit Doflamingo, Touch-Starved Doflamingo, Doflamingo is His Own Warning, Protective Donquixote Doflamingo, Adult Themes

Word Count: 10.2k (don't look at me, don't even look at me, I'm ashamed 🫣)

A/N: The "first part" of the behemoth that became Chapter 4 bcs Doffy couldn't keep it in his pants! (I mean, I'm not complaining but daaamn, Doffy). Next part will be released... When it's released! Either 2 weeks or a month. I wish I could have made it to post both the same day but I still need to write so much for next chap so pls be patient with me and forgive me 😭! I really thought myb I would be able to write Part 2 thoroughly, but alas... Thank you everyone for all the comments and reblogs and likes, I love simping over Doffy with you all and hearing all your thoughts and talking. 💕 Also, tell me what you think about the gradient of the title, I rather like it! Dividers are my own and free to use!

I do my best tagging everything and putting in trigger warnings in the tags so don't read the chapter until you've READ all the tags for it. Love you all ❤️

Also! WE HAVE... FANART of Law "Really? Right in front of my mochi?" by @rat-quing thank you so much I'm still not over it. I'm so flattered my fic inspired you 🥹😭🫶🏻❤️

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @moonbaby26 @daydreamer-in-training @queenmimi2817 @dummyduck44 @pinejayy @tellynojelly @capycapy-bara @dilf-destroyer-04 @yataidiot @orioncipher @isabeauwolf @r-amenegg @skullfacedlady @wrennyx @yan-love-reader @caldrien @rujellyroll @bonzaibaby @emilyfeetumbrella @ghostiequill @pipsterz @graceland321 @panthorastormheart @thesmolestsage @thesaltycrisp @hurricanebrownie @heroinicyfingers @t-sarah @aganhim @smol-flower-kiddo @vaniiiavengeance @sagyunaro @froggiewrites @doffyslittledove @7wanne @ohnomyhooves @tinycreature21 @aganhim @anime-fan-isa-art @fruity0salad @tavsianus @xblackxjackx @hime44444 @ripndips @shanalikeanna @multifandomgirl2018 @shirayuki-ayumi @misaneeragoni

Chapter 4

It was nothing new to see Corazon in the top executives’ lounge room. He spent most of his free time there, sitting on the large lilac armchair, either reading a book or the newspapers, drinking tea or sleeping with his head resting atop the backrest, breathing so quietly Law sometimes wondered if the man was truly sleeping at all.

There was a song playing from the gramophone, a man singing “I’d like for you and I to go ro-man-cing, say the word, your wish is my command”.

Law didn’t know the name of it, and didn’t care very much. It was a stupid love song that made Law roll his eyes. Corazon’s taste in music was not something Law cared about, or wanted to comment on. He certainly didn’t think it was a mix of glam rock and music hall genres. Law didn’t even know there existed a mix of it.

Law wondered if Corazon and Diamante exchanged music records between each other. Corazon’s music seemed less loud, which Law appreciated. There was a softness and slowness to the song and the way the singer sang it compared to the singers Diamante liked to listen to. This song was very romantic compared to Diamante’s songs Law heard.

What captured Law’s attention today, however, and was new, was where Corazon was sitting today. His long, lanky body was sunk into a massive pink bean bag. The top executive was lounging on it, sleeping.

Law hadn’t seen this armchair in the top executives' lounge before, so he stared at it for a while.

“Do you know what that is, Law?” asked Doflamingo, walking into the room, towering behind Law.

The way Doflamingo stood by Law resembled an adult flamingo standing by a newborn chicklet.

Ever since Law joined the Family, he had started getting tutored by Doflamingo whenever the captain had time in his busy schedule.

Law had to admit, he liked his lessons with Doflamingo the best, because they consisted of two of Law’s favourite things: books and studying. Even far after the day was over and he was in the bottom bunk of the bunk bed — because Buffalo would never give up the top bunk — Law would spend time reading the book from that day.

“It’s a bean bag,” said Law, staring at the massive pink bean bag in confusion.

Doflamingo hummed as confirmation. “Corazon found it in one of the furniture magazines and liked it, so I bought it for him. This way, he’ll fall off his seat less.”

Law looked up to Doflamingo — he had to tilt his head back as far as he could to do so — and was greeted with the captain’s infamous unnerving smile, but it didn’t keep him from asking questions. He wasn’t afraid of Doflamingo.

“So, what, you just buy your brother whatever he wants?” asked Law. “Even if it’s a stupidly huge bean bag?”

Law waited for Doflamingo to laugh, to tell him he fell for the joke. Instead, Doflamingo stared blankly at him, as though Law had said something foolish. He stared at him for such a long time Law started feeling small.

Doflamingo always made Law feel small. It was not in a way regarding height. Law was incredibly aware how short he was and how tall Doflamingo was. No, Doflamingo made Law feel small in a way that Law felt like just a grain of sand in a desert, just a flower in a massive city, like a kid in a world that was ten thousand times bigger than him.

Law felt like a little ember and Doflamingo like an unstoppable, massive fire.

Law knew he wouldn’t feel or remain small these last three years. He was learning to fight, to kill, to destroy. He wanted to be like Doflamingo. He wanted to destroy everything and make everyone fear him. If Law was to go out — and he was, in three years time unless they found some miraculous Devil Fruit to cure his disease — he’d go out not as a spark and a little ember, but an overwhelming, unstoppable fire, burning down as much of the world in his path as he could.

After a long moment of staring down at Law in silence that would make any normal person squirm, Doflamingo said an equally blunt, calm, “Yes.”

“Why a bean bag?” asked Law.

“Corazón and I like soft surfaces to sleep on,” said Doflamingo. “Helps us with our backs.”

Law frowned at this, the doctor in him in complete disapproval. “If you have spinal issues, you should lay on hard surfaces. Hard mattresses offer better spinal support.”

“So I can have back pain and be uncomfortable?” asked Doflamingo, like that was the worst thing that could ever happen to him. “I might have a long spine but I’m not an idiot.”

“Plus,” said Doflamingo, crossed his arms, and smirked victoriously down at the bean bag Corazón’s long body had sunk into. “It’s pink.”

Law stared at Doflamingo in shock and disbelief.

“Fufufufu! You need to know how to have fun, Law.”

Law wasn’t here to have fun. He was here because he wanted to destroy.

“Speaking of fun… how did you like yesterday?” asked Doflamingo with a wicked, broad smile.

Yesterday, they’d raided a small town and burned it to the ground. It was the first time since Flevance Law saw fire eating away at buildings.

“How did it make you feel?” Doflamingo asked.

Why would other people have the right to be happy, to be laughing, when Law’s entire country, his friends from school, his parents, and his sister were burned to ash and killed by the World Government?

They burned his country and his people. So he was going to do the same to them before his sickness took him. Those monsters deserved nothing less.

Watching the flames eat away at the town made him feel lighter, relieved. He hadn’t felt that way since escaping Flevance.

“It made me feel better,” Law said.

Doflamingo smiled. “Well, isn’t feeling better fun?”

Something coiled in Law’s stomach. He wondered if he and Doflamingo really were alike as Doflamingo said they were.

“Isn’t destroying fun?” Doflamingo asked.

Law felt his blood go cold. Destroying felt… good.

But it didn’t feel fun.

On his spot on the bean bag, Corazon stirred, the feathers of his coat rustling as he sat up. Doflamingo smiled warmly at him.

“Do you like the bean bag, Corazón?” asked Doflamingo.

Corazon dipped his head in a nod.

“You just rest,” Doflamingo said to Corazón; his voice always turned quiet and gentle when he talked to his brother, and today was no exception.

Doflamingo gave Corazón a smile, also different from his usual sharp ones; this one actually looked nice on him, without any menace to it. “Good work yesterday.”

Corazón nodded, and plopped his head back down onto the bean bag. It reminded Law of those big, furry, golden dogs Lami always petted when they were walking back home from school; they plopped their heads onto Lami’s lap the same way, never failing to make Lami smile and giggle.

Law decided he was reminded of those dogs because of Corazón’s golden, wavy hair. Because Corazón was not friendly or huggable at all.

By the time Law looked at the younger Donquixote brother, Corazón had already dozed off.

Doflamingo gestured him to the library, and Law had no time to think about the silliness and normalcy of Corazon sleeping on the bean bag, burying himself in books for the afternoon.

After Law was done studying, carrying the last book because he still had some reading to do of it before he was satisfied for the day, he exited the library and found his jaw on the floor.

Corazon was still sleeping on the bean bag, but now, Buffalo and Baby 5 were using his thighs as beds.

“What are you doing?” asked Law, frowning at them for their stupid stunt. If Corazon woke up, he was undoubtedly going to punch them and toss them into the wall. It was brave, but stupid.

“Cora-san is comfy, dasuyan!” said Buffalo, smiling with his buckteeth.

“Come lay down, Law!” said Baby 5, giggling.

Law frowned. Carefully, he approached the bean bag, and Corazon, whose limbs were spread out. He started to climb the bean bag.

Slowly… slowly…

To think he was more afraid of Corazon than he was of Doflamingo… could anyone blame him? Corazon was absolutely nuts. He could throw Law across the entire length of the ship if he wanted to, and Law would definitely break a few bones if Corazon did that. Corazon seemed to really like chucking Law and grabbing him by his hat to do so, like Law was some chuckable toy for Corazon, not a sick child.

Law took a breath. The last thing he wanted was for Baby 5 and Buffalo to tease him about being a coward for not wanting to use Corazon like a big bed.

Law sat down between Corazon’s spread legs, beside Buffalo and Baby 5. The two giggled happily to have him join them. Law paid them no mind, and opened up his book to finish reading it.

Eventually, Law dozed off, slumping on Corazon’s stomach.

A few hours later, Rosinante woke up.

‘What the…’ thought the marine, looking down at the weight on his body. Baby 5 and Buffalo were comfortably sleeping on his thighs, and Law, much to his surprise, had joined them, sleeping on his stomach.

Rosinante stared at Law for a moment longer. Was it his imagination, or did the white spot on Law’s chest climb up to the kid’s collarbone?

Rosinante felt his heart clench.

Since when was he a pillow for these little squirts?

Rosinante stared at the ceiling of the Numancia blankly, wondering what urged him to take on this mission - duty, more or less was the answer to that - that led him to becoming a body pillow for three crazy kids. He barely felt the weight of Law and Baby 5, but he definitely felt the weight of Buffalo’s body slung across his left thigh.

Rosinante let out a sigh. He didn’t feel like tossing them off. He was far, far too comfortable in the marshmallowy softness of the bean bag to even think of lifting himself from it.

He’d give them a break from trying to run them off today.

Rosinante slumped his head back down, closed his eyes, glad for the dark purple sunglasses covering him from the light of the candles, and went back to sleep.

A few hours later, Doflamingo returned to the room in search for his brother, and once he entered, promptly froze at the sight before him.

‘What the…’ thought the pirate captain, processing the vision before him.

‘Holy shit,’ Doflamingo thought, his heart skipping a beat. Was he dreaming?

Doflamingo blinked numerous times, even pinched himself to wake up, but the scenery didn’t change. It was his little brother, sleeping on the bean bag, Law, Baby 5 and Buffalo sleeping on different parts of his body. Law’s position surprised Doflamingo the most; the boy was sleeping on his brother’s stomach, his book on his little chest, his arms and legs spread out in a starfish position, snoring softly, deep in sleep.

‘Holy shit.’ thought Doflamingo, a smile blooming on his face, followed by a delighted giggle.

Rosi was so cute with the kids!

Doflamingo needed to take a picture.

He needed to take a picture right now!

Heart racing, long fingers nearly shaking from delight, Doflamingo started rummaging through his feather coat wildly, praying to saints he had a camera snail in the numerous pockets somewhere.

Doflamingo pulled out a pink camera snail from his feather coat. He started snapping multiple pictures with the camera snail, chuckling.

Doflamingo smiled to himself. This was going to be such good blackmail material.

Scratch that.

He’s going to frame this and put it with the rest of their family pictures, print it and put it on the fridge, print another and put it in the Family album, then print a bigger one to fit on a wall and put it on the wall in his office.

His little brother was still the most adorable being in the world, and nobody could convince Doflamingo otherwise.

Doflamingo grinned ear to ear, his eyes squinting with the smile behind his sunglasses.

Baby 5 was excited to be the one given the task to lead you across the ship. Before you had the chance to blink to process the thought of a child who could transform her hand to a weapon at any time escorting you to the captain’s cabin — Doflamingo’s cabin — the little girl grabbed your hand and led you along, out of the galley. The moment those gentle, tiny hands had gripped onto yours, you felt a softness take over you, much like with Law.

And much like with Law, you let Baby 5 take you wherever the hell she pleased, because how were you supposed to fight against such a tiny hand clutching onto yours, an unspoken indication of the child’s trust?

It was too bad you were in the ship’s underbelly. If you were still on deck, you’d attempt to fling yourself off the deck and into the water. Screw the hundred meter drop, that’s nothing compared to being flown across the sky by Doflamingo.

Baby 5 led you through the wooden maze, the extravagant paintings framed on the walls reminding you with what sort of money the entire ship was built. The two of you reached the tail end of the ship.

“There it is!” said Baby 5 excitedly.

The two of you stopped in front of large white doors with a golden handle. Baby 5 pulled out a key from the pocket of her maid dress.

It was a golden key with Doflamingo’s jolly roger symbol shaping its bow. Baby 5 put the key into the lock and turned it. After a click, she stood on her tiptoes and pulled down the golden handle, opening the tall white doors.

When you didn’t dare enter, she took your hand again, giggling, leading you into the space.

Your jaw hit the floor.

The captain’s cabin was huge. The chessboard black-white floor pattern stretched out across the room, making you feel like a chess piece the moment you stepped in.

On the right, on a pink carpet were two large lavender couches facing each other, a dark mahogany table between them, covered by a feather quill and paper scattered all over it. Bookshelves and storage compartments lined the walls. A large map of the North Blue was framed on the wall, and a large black flag with Doflamingo’s jolly roger in white was pinned beside it, above the couch.

Five tall windows stretched along the wall, wall-mounted candelabras between each. A circular golden breakfast table with a glass surface paired with four large golden-framed, lilac tufted chairs sat in front of the windows.

It felt like the room of royalty. It unnervingly reminded you of one of the breakfast rooms in Pangea Castle you had the luck to be in while working as King Riku’s translator, with the golden table, the golden chairs, the golden framings on walls…

It felt as grand and as opulent as the rooms in Mariejois.

Baby 5 led you to another set of double doors to the right. These had Doflamingo's jolly roger framed in gold on each side. Baby 5 unlocked the room with a golden-shaped flamingo key.

Doflamingo’s quarters were large. Furs, feathers, silk and satins filled the space. It was flamboyant, but so tasteful it felt almost sacred. Yours and Rosinante’s bedroom was plain and plebeian in comparison.

A three and a half meter long golden bed stood against the wall, its golden headboard tall, a dark red tufted headrest surface taking up most of its large space. Above the tufted surface, the curved top edges of the headboard were decorated with golden carvings of feathers leading to the top center of the headboard where the golden shape of Doflamingo’s jolly roger was carved, grinning its golden, menacing, toothy grin at you.

The massive bed was covered by numerous layers of warm covers; first and foremost was a thick pink feather blanket. Beneath it was a polar bear fur blanket, a tiger fur blanket, a dark red merlot duvet, and beneath it all, a merlot red sheet. The two feather pillows were covered by silken merlot pillowcases. Underneath and around the area of the bed was a pink-stained tiger skin rug.

You went down and sat on the bed. The mattress was so soft it felt like you were sitting on a marshmallow.

Doflamingo certainly had a refined taste.

“Wow!” said Baby 5, looking around in awe. “I’ve never been in Young Master’s quarters! They’re so nice!”

Nice was one way to say this entire room is worth more than a small island’s treasury.

You got up and looked into the closet installed into the wall, parting the panels to look at the clothes inside.

This was enough to fill both yours and Rosinante’s closets. Doflamingo was the complete opposite of Rosinante. He had so much clothes, each garment fashionable and expensive. It felt overwhelming simply looking at all the clothes hanging in his closet, a wheel of all colours, all expensive and up to the latest fashion. Whichever colour you thought of, you could spot it.

There were a lot of capris pants, too, in rather… interesting colours and patterns.

What captured your attention the most were the pointed, low heel, white-black dress shoes. They fit Doflamingo the most somehow, another fashionable piece of clothing.

“You know, Young Master isn’t bad,” said Baby 5. “Cora-san was the mean one of the two of them. Cora-san always whacked us into walls for just getting in his way.”

Stay calm. She’s just a kid. A kid who can shoot you by transforming her arm into a gun, but still a kid.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “That must have hurt.”

Baby 5 shrugged nonchalantly. “He always hit me.”

You could imagine Rosinante scowling and saying, “To try to scare you into running away, you stubborn, stupid, overly brave brat.”

“So I didn’t care. He took Law away, though, and turned him against us. I’m angry at him for that.”

You stared at the girl. Is that what she thought? Sure, you could see that from her point of view, Rosinante kidnapped Law, but in the end, Law made his own decisions on who to stay with at the end of it all based on what he saw of a person. Law was far too smart and very aware of what people were good or bad based on their actions. He didn’t join Doflamingo out of some naivety - Law was very aware how destructive and evil Doflamingo was, and decided Doflamingo was the right fit to help Law get his anger at the world out.

It was thanks to your husband opening up his heart to Law, crying for Law, fighting tooth and nail to cure him even if it meant he’d die trying, that Law chose Rosinante.

In the end, all Law wanted was for someone to treat him as a human, not as some patient or a disease, or a weapon. For someone he could trust. For someone who wouldn’t be afraid of him, or throw him away. For someone to care.

You gazed at Baby 5, feeling an intense swell of sadness the longer you looked at her.

These children are already a lost cause. There’s no use talking to them, trying to explain the world of adults and right and wrong to them. This girl probably already killed someone. Just like Law did.

They weren’t your problem. They weren't.

But damn it, did your heart hurt for them. These poor kids.

You wondered if your husband thought the same. He must have. He must have wanted to take them all and save them. But he could only take one, and that one was Law, because Law was truly dying. Because Law was a D. He wasn’t meant to be Doflamingo’s minion. That boy was going to flip the world around one day, and frankly, you didn’t care if that meant flipping it for better or for worse, and you didn't care. If anyone wanted Law, they’d have to go through you first.

You didn’t care anymore about Law’s ancestry, and neither did Rosinante. To you, Law was Law.

And Law had to live.

“Oh! Come see your wardrobe!” said Baby 5 excitedly, taking you by the hand again and walking to the other wardrobe doors. When she opened them, your jaw dropped.

Dresses, jackets and coats of luxury brands in many colors were hanging on the long hanger. On the bottom were boots, heels and sandals of the same quality - luxurious, pricey, out of your paygrade.

There were quite a few black clothes, which was good. Doflamingo couldn’t really tell you what to wear, and you were going to wear black from tomorrow on. You noticed a lacking amount of pants, and a rather alarming amount of dresses and skirts. There were a few dress shirts and blouses. On the installed top shelves were fur hats, gloves and scarves. You opened the bottom drawers, and felt your breath stop. There were pantyhouses, tights, stockings…

You weren’t used to that many clothes, nor did you want to own that many. It was overwhelming.

A color caught your eye when you opened one of the drawers filled with sleeping clothes, chemises, night shirts and the like.

What the fuck?

It was a beautiful pajama set.

Wine red.

Merlot red.

The shorts and camisole were both satin a merlot red color. Black lace covered the v-neck of the camisole, its intricate pattern flowing out from the hem of the shorts.

You nearly screamed. You noticed another lingerie garment, black one this time. You reached out and unfolded it, and your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. It was a one-piece black lingerie, the sort of piece meant for one thing only.

Seduction.

You quickly put the garment back among the hanged clothes so Baby 5 doesn’t see the risque sleepwear. You felt your head burn from the heat on your face. How could Doflamingo tell his crew to buy something like that for you? Maybe they chose to buy it on their own to mess with you. You could definitely imagine Diamante being the sort of guy to suggest it to have a nice laugh at your misfortune.

You shook your head. Maybe that bodysuit lingerie wasn’t yours (even though it still had the price tag on its collar). Maybe one of the women Doflamingo undoubtedly charmed into bed with him had left it behind... You were impressed by whichever woman spent the night with Doflamingo, that they didn’t turn tail and run away full speed at the sight of Doflamingo’s wicked, dark grin.

You shuddered uncomfortably from head to toe at the mere memory of that grin.

Doflamingo undoubtedly was many women’s preferred type of man, you supposed. The sort of type they might regret sleeping with later when all is said and done, but… who were you to judge? You dated, married and very much slept with his sweet adorable little brother.

You loved a man in a high-ranking marine officer uniform.

Did Doflamingo let women he didn’t know in here, or onto the ship?

Thankfully, there was a nice black silk pajama set with buttons on the long-sleeved shirt and long sleeping pants. Not thick enough, but with all the thick covers and duvets covering Doflamingo’s bed, you weren’t worried about lack of warmth.

“Young Master says he’ll buy you more in Beliera. These clothes should last the week until we reach a city to buy you good clothes.”

You didn’t understand what good clothes meant to Baby 5. What was wrong with these? They looked brand new, were your size, and some of the coats were from highly reputable fashion houses. One coat was even padded on the inside from Drum Island’s snow rabbit fur.

“Thank you, Baby 5,” you say politely, because she can kill you, and you are tired. “You were really helpful.”

You want to go to sleep. If you wish it hard enough, maybe you’ll get lucky and wake up next to Rosinante with Law dive bombing your husband to wake him up, and this will all have been a very very bad nightmare.

Baby 5’s eyes lit up, shining. “I was?”

You smiled gently at the girl. “Yeah.”

“Can I ask you something?” asked Baby 5, looking up at you with her big dark blue eyes.

“Sure,” you responded, mindful to keep your voice soft and calm; the last thing you want to do is scare the kid who can transform her hand into a gun.

“Are you really Cora-san’s wife?” Baby 5 asked.

“Yes,” you said. “I am.”

Baby 5’s eyes lit up.

You do your best not to giggle at the adorableness. Pirate apprentice she may be, but a kid was still a kid at heart.

“Why on earth would you marry a jerk like Corazón?” asked Baby 5.

The word jerk and Rosinante didn’t fit together in a sentence for you. The word jerk and Doflamingo fit together in a sentence much more.

You were so surprised by her question that your lips parted slightly, leaving you to stare at the eleven-year-old girl with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry!” she said quickly, sounding and looking — scared. You never saw a kid be scared of you. “That was rude to say!”

“It’s okay,” you said, forcing a tiny smile. You knew even if you told her your husband wasn’t as violent toward kids as he painted himself to be during his undercover mission, you were sure Baby 5 wouldn’t trust you.

“Let’s see…" you said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "you asked me what made me marry him, right?”

Baby 5 nodded.

You smiled. “He didn’t let me fall the first time we met.”

Baby 5 tilted her head.

“We both bumped into each other and fell over, but he instinctually made sure I didn’t hit my head on the cobblestone. He also asked me if I was okay, and helped me up. He apologized, as well, and it was a sincere apology, so it showed me he could own up to his mistakes and that he cares about other people’s feelings.”

“That sounds like something out of a fairy tale!” said Baby 5 in awe, squealing excitedly. “Like meeting a prince!”

You smiled softly, the memory making you warm and sad at the same time. “Yeah, I guess so.” You chuckled. It was the first time you smiled since receiving the transponder snail call from Tsuru. “I’m a lucky woman.”

You froze. Your smile fell. Not am. Were. You were a lucky woman. Rosinante is gone.

Baby 5 noticed the sudden shift in your mood. "Are you okay?”

“I found out he died last night.” you said.

“Oh.” said Baby 5.

A long silence settled over the two of you.

Baby 5 spoke up. “I don’t think Cora-san suffered.”

Your eyes widened, the title Cora-san reminding you of...

“Cora-san!” yelled Law. " You’re on fire again!”

Rosinante blinked, then looked down upon himself, and, much to nobody’s surprise, he indeed was on fire. The end of his coat was enveloped by flames, burning the black feathers.��

Slowly, your husband’s eyes bulged wide open in a comedic show of surprise. The befuddled look on his face made you smile fondly; he looked so cute.

Rosinante shrieked.

“Bath!” yelled Rosinante. “Bath! Aaaaa!”

Your husband went running to the closest bathroom on the ground floor of the house, tripping twice by the time he got to the bathroom.

This was why you didn’t have vases anywhere.

Law smirked. You raised an eyebrow.

“I want to pick the cabbage from the garden and make some for Cora-san.”

You were pleasantly surprised. It was the first time Law wanted to cook something by himself since he arrived here.

You hummed, smiling. “What good timing that Rosi isn’t here to hear you ask that because his coat caught fire.”

“Happy circumstance,” said Law calmly, his poker face extremely impressive for a thirteen-year-old kid.

“Uh-huh,” you drawled dubiously, smiling knowingly at the boy. “I may be a normal citizen, but I know all your little pirate tricks, Law.”

“No you don’t,” said Law, but he didn’t sound quite sure.

You giggled. Law was adorable.

“What do you want to make for him?” you asked.

“I don’t know…” said Law.

“How about we make a tonkatsu?” you suggested. “We’ll shred the cabbage and serve it on the same plate with fried pork cutlets.”

“Can Cora-san and I cook it?” Law asked, and you were starting to realize why he wanted to get to the cabbage garden in the first place. “You’ve been making us meals since we got here, and Cora-san’s like a food vacuum.”

You chuckled at the description of your husband’s appetite.

“Sneaky,” you said, then smiled. “Alright. I’ll accept your offer of not having to cook today. I don’t mind taking a break and letting you boys in the kitchen.”

“Come on, before Cora-san comes back!” said Law, grabbing your hand with his small fingers and leading you after him.

You reminded yourself not to cheer in happiness. The fact Law had initiated the contact all on his own was a good sign he was starting to feel comfortable with you. You felt your eyes water in joy. You blinked them away, not wanting to cry during this happy moment as you followed Law (saints, he was fast considering how short he was) out of the living room, out the house, down the porch, and into the garden full of ripe vegetables.

In truth, behind all that mask of coolness and murderous tendencies, Law was a sweet, precious boy.

The two of you made it to the garden, and headed for the rows of cabbages. Law scouted the cabbages with his sharp, grey eyes, looking for the perfect one. You simply stood there, fighting not to smile at the concentration on his face while looking at cabbages of all things. Law looked so serious…

“That one,” said Law, pointing to the largest cabbage in the lines of cabbages.

“I can pull it out,” blurted Law. “Well… I think I can.”

Awww. you thought, smiling.

Law squatted down, pushed the large outer leaves to expose the stem, enveloped the cabbage with his hands, and pulled it. The cabbage moved, but didn’t leave the earth.

Law frowned. He tried again, harder now, with more force. The stem didn't budge.

Law tried again. He tugged at the cabbage hard, his forehead creasing as he strained himself. Sweat was starting to accumulate on his temples and forehead.

“Stupid… thing…” muttered Law, baring his clenched teeth, closing his eyes tight. “Come on!”

Another herculean pull, and Law fell on his back with a yelp. The cabbage had won their tug-of-war, leaving the boy panting and lying in the dirt.

“Are you okay?” you asked, reaching a hand out to him. For a moment, Law looked surprised, but then, he put his little hand in yours and let you pull him back to his feet.

“I’m fine,” said Law, catching his breath, brushing off the dirt from his knees. You patted down the back of his yellow shirt away from the dirt, as well.

You and Law looked at the cabbage. Despite it not being animate, you both shared the same sentiment. The vegetable was mocking you.

“We can get a knife -” you started.

“No!” said Law breathlessly. He gulped down. “I’m doing it bare-handed!”

“Do you want me to pull you a bit?” you asked.

“Only a little,” said Law sternly. It was very clear this was a matter of pride to him. He looked distraught, glaring down at the cabbage.

You nodded. You respected Law’s determination. He knew his own limits.

“Okay,” you said, squatting down. “Where do you want me to pull you?”

Law looked surprised for a moment at the question, but he soon covered it, and said confidently, “Around my stomach is fine.”

You put your hands around Law’s stomach, aware of how much Law was trusting you.

“We go on three,” said Law.

“Got it,” you said, voice serious.

"One..." said Law.

A long arm wrapped around your stomach.

You nearly shrieked at the massive arm wrapped around your stomach, but in the next moment, you identified it and closed your mouth, because nobody else had arms that could envelop your body fully except Rosinante.

You pulled your head up to the sky. Rosinante put his index finger on his lips in a shushing motion, smiling at you. You beamed at your husband.

“Two…”

Rosinante's hand was warm and large on your waist, his long fingertips touching the back of your spine, sending goosebumps across your entire body.

It was not the time to be thinking about your husband’s large, warm hands and how much you would like them buried between (or wrapped around) your thighs.

“Three!” yelled Law.

All three of you fell to the floor. Rosinante, of course, cushioned your fall, and you landed on his large chest, Law landing atop your knees.

You stared at the clear blue sky, breathless, your husband’s forearm resting below your chest, his long arm enveloping your entire body. You felt heat in your chest and cheeks.

“Ha!” yelled Law victoriously, lifting the large vegetable high above his head under the shining sun like a triumphant gladiator at the Dressrosa Colosseum. “The cabbage is mine!”

You heard a “pf” above your head, and as you and Law tilted your heads up to the source of the sound, Rosinante laughed heartily, the sound gentle and loving, his white teeth in full view.

“Eh? Since when was Cora-san here?” asked Law.

You giggled. “He tripped and we fell atop him.”

Law smirked. “Heh.”

“Look, Cora-san!” said Law, showing your husband the cabbage, leaves, stem, root and all, which was two times bigger than Law’s head. “I pulled out the biggest one!”

Rosinante managed out a, “Good job!” between his fits of laughter, reaching down to pat Law’s back gently.

“Let’s go cook it!” said Law excitedly. You stared at the boy, happiness blooming in your chest at the happiness on Law’s face.

Rosinante just laughed louder and harder, even as Law pulled at his fingers with his hand to get him to get a move on.

“You… you go ahead, Law. I’ll be… right behind you…” Rosinante managed.

Giggling like a little devil, Law ran back to the house with his prize.

Rosinante’s laughter eventually lessened, and you couldn’t help but admire him. He was so beautiful. His golden hair shone under the sun, his brown eyes warm, his smile bright.

You couldn’t help it. You leaned forward on his lap, straightened up, and kissed him. Rosinante didn’t mind. He welcomed the kiss, his lips moving against yours passionately, hungry for your kiss. His hands settled on your back, pulling you flush to him.

“Hurry up, Cora-san!” Law yelled from the house. “You can kiss your wife after we cook my cabbage!”

Rosinante ignored Law, slipping his tongue inside the cavern of your mouth to taste you. You moaned, your fingers burying deeper into his hair.

“Cora-san!” yelled Law again.

Rosinante growled, gave you another peck, and with much hesitation, parted from your lips. You giggled, resting your hands on his chest.

“The kid’s such a cockblocker,” mumbled Rosinante under his breath grumpily, resting his head on your shoulder with an exhausted sigh. “First he sets my coat on fire to sneak out with you, then this!”

You gasped at the word, and hissed, “Rosinante!” then slapped your husband on the chest.

Rosinante yelped.

“But he is!” argued your husband, his brown eyes soft and teary, on the verge of crying. “It’s not like he can’t cook, he’s a better cook than me! You should try his mushroom soup, it’s out of this world. You know, I’m starting to think the D. in his name isn’t for the clan of D. but for dickhea-”

You grabbed your husband’s soft cheek and pulled at it.

“Ow ow ow!”

You let go of his cheek, message made.

“You can be so oblivious,” you said. Rosinante whined, his brown eyes big and puppy-like, pouting at you. “Law wants to cook with you. He wanted to surprise you with the cabbage, that’s why he set your coat on fire.”

Rosinante blinked multiple times.

“Oh,” said Rosinante. A big, goofy smile blossomed across his face. “That’s adorable~”

“Cora-san!”

Law sounded like he was going to throw a frying pan at your husband from the window.

“Coming!” chirped Rosinante.

Rosinante smirked down at you, and your heart skipped ten beats. “Up you go, mi amor.”

You shrieked as your husband’s arm wrapped around you, picked you up off the ground, hoisting you upward, two metres high, your stomach dropping as you ascended suddenly, your arms instinctually winding around Rosinante’s thick neck as you came to a stop below his chest.

“I’m the luckiest woman in the world,” you said out loud, staring at your husband lovingly.

“You’re wrong,” said Rosinante seriously, looking at you with firm belief in his brown eyes. “I’m the lucky one. The universe might have made me unlucky in many things by making me a klutz and having Doffy as my older brother…”

“Rosi…” you murmured sadly, tears stinging at your eyes.

Rosinante’s expression changed, brightening completely. He beamed at you, handsome and beautiful. “But it gave me luck for the most important thing, so I’m happy to be clumsy and have Doffy as my older brother, cus I got lucky with you as my wife in return!”

Your throat clogged up. How did you get so lucky with such a wonderful man like Rosinante?

“I don’t think you’re unlucky,” you said, clenching the soft fabric of his pink, heart pattern dress shirt between your fingers. “After all, your clumsiness is how we met, remember?”

Rosinante chuckled, an adorable pink blush staining his cheeks as he smiled awkwardly. “That was embarrassing…”

“No,” you said lovingly, resting your head against his broad chest, listening to the thump thump of his heart below your ear. “It was wonderful. I love you, Rosi.”

Rosinante looked down at you softly, with such love your heart melted. His hands brought you closer to his chest, his long, large fingers tightening around your knees protectively.

“I love you, too.” he said, the confession soft and gentle, his warm voice settling over you, filling your body. “Thanks for marrying me.”

You giggled. “Right back at you, Commander Donquixote.”

Rosinante chuckled.

The two of you made it back into the house, where Law waited, arms crossed over his chest.

“Sorry, my love. Kid calls,” he said, and you giggled.

Rosinante kissed you again, then placed you carefully on the white couch, atop his black feather coat, and headed to the kitchen.

“Are you done shoving your tongue down (Y/N)-san’s throat?”

Rosinante squawked, and you were no better.

“How do you know about the… that?!” shrieked Rosinante.

“I saw Doflamingo do it with a lady. Diamante sent me to get him and I saw it.”

You were dying of giggles at this point.

Rosinante sighed, putting a hand over his head, feeling an incoming headache. “My brother needs to be put in the seventh level of Impel Down...”

“I thought Impel Down has six levels,” said Law.

“No, the seventh level is where the Navy keeps the horn dogs.” said Rosinante. "Or horn birds!" Rosinante let out a laugh. “Get it? Cause Doffy's a flamingo!”

Law stared at your husband with an unimpressed look, an unsaid "How are you an adult?" clearly written on his face. You snorted.

“They should put you in there too, then, Cora-san.” said Law bluntly.

It was your turn to burst out laughing. Law should be a comedian. His comedic timing and delivery are impeccable.

“That’s so mean, Law!” cried Rosinante. “I thought you wanted to cook cabbage with me?”

It was Law who stammered now, getting tongue-tied. A faint pink dusted his cheeks.

“Only if you promise not to set anything on fire!” said Law, as though he hadn’t wanted to cook with Rosinante the entire time.

“Yes, Captain!” said Rosinante, saluting.

You giggled as Law blushed further. The sweet boy looked like he was going to melt into a puddle of mushroom soup. It was absolutely adorable. But you could see Law was happy. You sent the boy a thumbs up, to which Law flushed red, squawking.

Rosinante laughed, the sound deep and soft, carefree, gentle and warm, filling the house with a homeliness you sorely missed. It filled your heart with love, embraced you in the feel of safety, making butterflies flutter free in your belly.

“Don’t worry, I’m a good cook, Law! When we moved here, I made a full lunch for my wife and took her on a picnic date, and she loved my food!”

‘I loved the dessert after the food, too.’ you thought, smiling to yourself at the memory of what happened after all the food was eaten.

“Liar!” accused Law without any bite to the word, pointing a ladle at the tall blond. “There’s no way you cooked without setting yourself on fire! And a picnic? No way!”

“It’s true,” you said from your place in the living room, speaking loudly to reach the kitchen. “It was one of our dates.”

Law looked at you all the far way from the kitchen like you’d betrayed him.

“See?” asked Rosinante cheerily, beaming at Law.

While Rosinante and Law started on the meal, you fell atop Rosinante’s black feather coat with a blissful sigh.

It smelled like him. Coal and roses. You smiled into the feathers, grabbing the coat and rolling over, wrapping yourself up in it.

You relaxed back into the plush whiteness of the couch, covering yourself in your husband’s black feather coat. You opened the Grand Line Magazine to kill some time while your husband and his ward cooked. You sighed happily, closing your eyes, all your muscles loosening, any plans for the day vaporizing away. It was nice that they were cooking today. You could take a nice little nap on the couch.

Ten minutes later, Law and Rosinante set the kitchen on fire.

Well… there goes the cabbage.

Law.

Oh saints.

Law.

“Young Master’s executions are always quick.” said Baby 5, unaware of the memories running through your mind. “So I don’t think Cora-san suffered.”

Execution. Baby 5 called it.

Executions are sentences for condemned criminals, those who have broken the law. For criminals.

Celestial Dragons execute people, too.

Doflamingo executed Rosinante for the sin of betraying him. It wasn’t that Rosinante commited a crime against the world. It was that Rosinante commited a crime against Doflamingo.

You could hear your breaths start to quicken. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“Where’s the bathroom?” you asked.

“Oh, it’s right -” Baby 5 trailed off after she pointed to another white door with golden trimmings on its surface because you rushed right into the bathroom and closed the doors behind yourself.

Tears leaked out of your trembling eyes.

Rosinante.

Your lungs were on fire.

Rosinante.

Your body was in pain.

Rosinante.

Your heart was in pieces.

How were you even standing on these quivering legs of yours?

You collapsed on your knees in front of the toilet, clutching at your heaving chest. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

Were you having a panic attack?

Nausea built up in your stomach, trailing up, all the way to your throat. You gagged.

I’m gonna throw up.

That was the last thought you had before you violently threw up into the porcelain bowl of the toilet.

There goes the souffle.

You panted, eyes wide, staring in shock at the water stained with the physical materialisation of your disgust and terror. For a moment, you didn’t know where you were, or what was happening.

For a moment, you opened your mouth to form the syllables of your husband’s name, knew that Rosi was rushing to the bathroom the moment he heard you throw your guts up, you needed to tell him something was wrong, something was really, really wrong, it all hurt, he needed to get you to a hospital —

“Ro-” you choked, only to stop midway, another spasm of pain hitting your ribcage, like you aggressively pulled a muscle.

Rosi wasn't coming. That's why it hurt. Because Rosi was dead, he wasn’t here, he was dead, dead, dead —

Breathe.

Just breathe.

That’s all you need to do.

Breathe.

You rested your body on the cold tiles. It was easier this way. The floor was freezing, but it was better than the heat. Your body was on fire, your back and collar covered in sweat. You hoped you'd shiver soon. Better to shiver than sweat.

You didn't know how long you laid there, lying on the floor, stabilising your breaths, waiting for your body and organs to calm down.

When the pain in your chest fully abated, when your ribs didn't feel like they were squeezing onto your heart, when your body finally regained normal temperature and when your breaths calmed...

You exhaled in relief. You waited a few more seconds. Let it all settle down.

Then, you sat up and breathed some more. You took that time to look around the bathroom.

There was a porcelain white, flat rim clawfoot tub against the wall, its handle and feet golden.

Beside the tub was a walk-in, rectangular shower on the left, separated by a single glass door. The shower space was tiled with soft pink tiles all across from top to bottom. It had a golden shower head high above the ceiling, and a golden hand shower mounted on the handle above golden temperature valves.

It reminded you of the luxury honeymoon suite you and Rosinante stayed in on your honeymoon in Water 7.

After a few more moments, you carefully got up.

Your hands were trembling. You were panting, breathing rapidly, your stomach feeling empty and too crowded all at once. You looked at your reflection in the mirror; you’ve never looked so terrified before, never was your face dripping with perspiration brought by fear you’d been withholding the entire day, burying it deep inside you to the best of your abilities.

You are surrounded by people on the ship, but you’ve never felt so alone.

It’s just the waves. Just the waves. You take a deep breath in, and a deep breath out.

Breathe. Breathe. Just breathe.

You washed your face and mouth, wiping your face with the towel, then went back outside to Baby 5.

“Sorry, I guess I’m still gaining my sea legs,” you said lightly, forcing a small smile on your face. The last thing you wanted was for her to tell Doflamingo you got violently sick just by interacting with him and his crew for an hour.

There was a gramophone with a large golden flaring trumpet horn on the tall mahogany cabinet beside the armchair. There was a record in the gramophone already. Out of curiosity, you put the needle on the edge, letting the record play.

It was a classical piece, a solo of a piano. Of course Doflamingo likes classical music…

The piano played through the horn softly, slowly, with a sort of tune that reminded you of the peacefulness of a rainy day. A tenderness leaked out from the piano the further the sound played.

“Do you like it?”

You screamed like a banshee, at the top of your lungs, embarrassingly high and for a good length of five full seconds, jumping a full meter high, leaping away from Doflamingo’s deep voice.

It unnerved you how a man so huge could sneak up on you with such silence. Rosi had been able to do the same thing, but you could always pick up his presence because he was clumsy.

“You —” Doflamingo continued laughing, all his white, large teeth in sight, his smile stretching from ear to ear, forming dimples on his cheeks. “— jumped so high —” More deep, dark, amused laughter came from the massive man. “— like a rabbit, fufufu!”

Doflamingo laughed more, the sound loud and uproarious, his broad shoulders and wide chest shaking with the laughter, the pink feathers of his coat swaying from the movement of his body.

You scrambled for the needle and pulled it off the record, turning off the sound of the piano.

“She likes the clothes, Young Master!” said Baby 5 energetically, undoubtedly happy she was useful.

“I sure hope so, fufufu!” said Doflamingo.

“There’s some more souffles in the kitchen,” said Doflamingo secretly, in a sneaky, mischievous tone, smile wide and up to no good. Baby 5’s eyes widened. You could feel her mouth water for the desert. “How about you go snatch some before Buffalo gets his hands on them? But don’t say I told you, hm?”

“Really? Thanks, Young Master!” Baby 5 headed for the doors, waving at you. “Bye, (Y/N)-san! See you at dinner!”

“Bye,” you said weakly, even though you wanted to beg Baby 5 to stay. You didn’t want to be alone with Doflamingo.

You looked at Doflamingo. It shouldn’t be him.

You shouldn’t be looking at Doflamingo.

You should be looking at Rosi.

“Answer my question.”

There was a roughness to his voice, an impatience to it, a demand more than a suggestion.

You clenched your teeth.

Say it. Just say it.

You clenched your jaw tight.

“It’s nice,” you said, but because you were a marine’s wife, added before you could stop: “For a pirate.”

Doflamingo smiled in that unnerving way. "I suppose it is."

Doflamingo walked to the alcohol cabinet, taking off his gloves. He opened the glass doors, scanned through the wines, and pulled out a dark red bottle. He placed it on the small, round table near the armchair. On the label was written Grand Vin de Bordeaux and under it was the name of the merlot wine Châteaux Meyne.

“Châteaux Meyne. It’s my favourite,” he said, lifting the crimson bottle. “Has a great bitter after kick.”

He extended his arm, offering the bottle to you. You took it, mindful not to touch his large, long, tanned fingers. You took a sniff of it, and groaned, offering it back to him.

“It doesn’t smell like merlot,” you said, brows furrowing and nose scrunching with distaste; the scent of alcohol was strongly wafting from the bottle, overwhelmingly heavy. “Your poor liver.”

Doflamingo let out a loud laugh, taking the bottle from you. “I said the same thing to Corazon about his lungs.”

Without anything more, Doflamingo drank straight from the bottle, taking easy, smooth gulps.

After he had his fill, Doflamingo exhaled loudly, deep and pleased. You felt yourself shudder, both in surprise and shock. That was not a sound a polite man made in public. It was the sort of sound you mostly heard with Rosi. In bed. After and while Rosi cummed. Sometimes Rosi was loud when he cummed, sometimes the sounds he released when he came were grunts, moans, but sometimes, it was that.

Doflamingo can behave like a royal one moment, but then a pirate the next. A gentleman one moment, a brute the next. It confused you.

You took a large step back from him. Your legs felt light and weak. Doflamingo put the bottle back on the round coffee table beside the armchair.

“How do you like the clothes?” he asked.

“If you’d let me bring some of my clothes, you wouldn’t need to spend your money.” you said, not feeling anything at all right now. You felt empty. You didn’t care about the clothes. You’d throw them all away if it meant having Rosi back.

Doflamingo gave you a smile; goosebumps traveled up your spine. “I don’t mind. I like spending money on you.”

“There’s a great sleeping robe in there.”

You felt your hackles rise, remembering the red satin pajama set and the black lingerie bodysuit.

“First you kidnap me, now you’re telling me what to wear?” you asked.

“Fufufu! I didn’t kidnap you.” said Doflamingo, pink feathers atop his shoulders shaking with the movement of them as he chuckled. “You went with me on your own.”

Doflamingo tilted his head and smiled at you, arrogant and wicked. You glared at him, a growl building in your throat. Both of you knew that you only went because he threatened to kill everyone on the island, but the way he was spinning it like you went willingly got on your nerves.

“And, I wouldn’t dare to tell a lady what she should wear. I’m only…” He smiled again, sending goosebumps down your spine, “suggesting. It can get cold on the ship, after all.” Despite not being able to see his eyes, his gaze was no less intense through the crimson sunglasses as he gazed down on you with a sharp, unsettling focus and intent. “And pretty women like you should wear pretty things.”

The way he smiled, the way he talked… It made you squirm uncomfortably. It made you want to run away and hide. Instead, you held eye contact with him.

You wondered how much force you’d need to use your bare hands to rip his ribcage open, rip his heart out, and toss it and his body into the sea.

You hated him. You hated him, hated him, hated him so much you wanted to scream.

You needed to look at something else, anything else. A chessboard caught your eye. There were still pieces on it, as though the players stopped playing mid-game. You surveyed the pieces with your eyes. Both kings were still on the board.

“That’s my game with Law," said Doflamingo. "I’m waiting for him so we can finish it. I pasted the pieces to the board.”

“We started playing it to expand his approach to strategies. I kept winning, but Law kept coming back.” Doflamingo chuckled, the sound wicked and menacing. “Kept losing, until this game. This was the last game before Corazon took him away. We were both stuck. I was really proud, fufufu! He managed to play me to a standstill.”

“You know, I thought he was only a traitor. But not an… not an actual marine.” Doflamingo smirked. “That surprised me. I’m even more surprised he handed Law into Navy custody.” Doflamingo was too busy gesturing with his hands and watching the chessboard to notice your eyes widening. “Now that was really surprising. Law hates anything connected to the World Government, but I guess the marines were the safest option.”

Doflamingo thinks Law is with the Navy. Nice going, Rosi.

“I wonder what lies my brother put in Law’s head.”

“They weren’t lies,” you said. “Messing up your plans… that was just icing on the cake. You underestimated Rosi, and you paid for it by losing Law and the Op-Op Fruit.”

Doflamingo smiled ear to ear. “You’re really angry.”

“Yes,” you said, blood boiling in your veins. It surprised you how steam wasn’t coming out of every pore of your skin with the heat and rage in your blood. “I’m angry. Didn’t me shooting at you show you I’m angry?”

He chuckled, like it was something funny. “Yeah. It did.”

Doflamingo walked to the bed and sat down beside you. His broad frame took up a lot of the space you thought was yours. No space was yours on this ship, especially not his bed.

Doflamingo rested his forearms on his knees, letting his hands hang loosely down.

He was quiet for long moments. It didn’t look like he would speak until he did.

“I know how lonely grief can be,” he said, tone more quiet, intimate. “When I lost my mother, I was left to deal alone with my grief. Father and Rosi were useless. We barely buried Mother before I had to go scavenge for food.”

Your heart clenched painfully. Rosinante told you about his childhood only once, but once had been enough to leave you hugging him to your chest and bawling your eyes out.

“But Doffy… he wasn’t like me. I never heard him cry like he cried when mother died. But after he was done, he got up and said we should bury mother. Like he hadn’t cried at all.”

Doflamingo leaned down. He was so close. Close enough for you to see your reflection, painted crimson in the lenses of his one-way sunglasses. You looked pathetic. Absolutely weak and pathetic.

Doflamingo looked down at your left hand. You felt his gaze on the golden wedding ring on your ring finger. His forehead creased, the line of his mouth turning down. It was such a cold, heartless, disgusted look on his face it froze the blood in your veins, making your heart drop.

It was the exact same look of Celestial Dragons in Mariejois, looking down on people like the people’s mere existence insulted them. Like people were ants and pebbles in their path.

Doflamingo moved his right hand, and placed it atop yours.

You jumped in your skin.

Doflamingo’s hand felt different from Rosinante’s, even like this. Doflamingo’s palm was bigger, his fingers longer and thicker, the weight of it starkly different. His tanned palm covered your hand completely, lying atop it. His tanned fingers curled down, flexing, grabbing hold of your palm, encircling it completely from one side to another.

Your breath caught, held in your lungs, your entire body frightened. It felt like your hand was caught in a bear trap.

“I’m not going to leave you to go through it alone,” he said, voice firm and serious, his fingers squeezing your hand gently, mindful of his strength. You didn’t expect any regard from him, so it surprised you, leaving your brain scrambling to keep up with the shifts of his mood. “I know you feel alone without him, but I’m right here. From now on, I’ll take care of you. I know you don’t want to, but that’s what I’m going to do.”

You said nothing. You felt empty. It didn’t feel like there was anything inside you.

You could feel the heat of Doflamingo's hand, warming up your trembling one.

“I know healing will take time.” he whispered, his deep voice so painfully gentle and soft you realized he truly was Rosinante’s older brother. They both had such gentle voices when they were speaking quietly.

Doflamingo reached forward with his arm, wrapping it around your back. He squeezed you close to him, like a child with his favorite teddy bear that he ripped apart on his own and was promising to stitch it back to health. The merlot of his suit filled your sight, the scents of bergamot and sea salt filling your nose, and you could feel it faintly beneath your ear where your face was pressed to his chest.

The beat of his heart.

“But don’t worry, I’ll be with you every step of the way, my cute little sister-in-law.”

How dare he smile at you, how dare he look at you? How can he bring himself to smile when he killed his brother? You want to punch it off his face. But you barely reach his thigh height, and you can’t leap high enough to attempt to do such a thing. You’d probably get yourself tossed like a ragdoll into the wall for the effort, or something worse.

Get your hand off me, you pirate scum. You damn asshole. You’re no family to me.

Why? Why couldn’t you come out and say it? Were you that gutless? Were you this much of a coward? Were you all bark and no bite?

Doflamingo exhaled at the continued silence from you, sounding disappointed.

“I’m locking you inside during the night for now, so you don’t do something reckless.”

You said nothing.

“I still have some work to do, but I’ll be back to take you to dinner. Get some rest until then.”

You nodded.

“Sweet dreams,” said Doflamingo.

Doflamingo kissed you on the cheek, got off his massive bed, and left in a flutter of pink feathers.

The click of the lock brought a strange feeling of relief to the massive bedroom. You exhale breaths you’d been holding, panting out the fear you’d held trapped in your lungs. The irony of it isn’t lost on you. You feel more safe locked in than free. At least you know nobody will enter except him.

You start to breathe again. Your body trembled. Panting, shaking, you take out the small picture you always kept in your bra, hidden away.

Your lips trembled. A sob slipped out of you, a frightened little whimper following through.

You put your hand over your mouth, muffling your pathetic sobs, your entire body convulsing with the pained sounds coming out of your mouth.

You remembered the words Rosinante said to you in his vows on your wedding day.

“He said ‘just follow the compass that beats in your chest’. You are the compass that beats in my chest.”

“You are my flag.”

Without you here, I’m all alone. you thought, sobbing. Sounds of agony left your mouth, shaking you down to your bones. You hugged the pillow, wishing it was your husband instead.

Your compass was gone. You were lost at sea, without a home to go to - Rosinante was your home. Your flag was burned to cinders, ripped to shreds, six bullets in his chest, his blood on the snow.

Memories overflowed within you, and more tears streamed down your face.

Your time with Rosinante and Law felt like a dream.

“I love you!” Rosinante yelled, spinning you around in the air, the black feathers of his coat whirling around you like wings of an angel.

You kissed your angelic husband with all the love in the world.

The dream is over, and it will never be the way it was.

Rosinante is gone, Law is lost and hiding, and you’re in a nightmare now.

“I love you.”

Those were the last words you and Rosinante said to each other.

Rosinante’s “I love you.” sounds a lot like goodbye now.

Before you know it, before you can stop it — and you try, you try to stop it so hard you nearly suffocate in the attempt — a miserable, loud sob rips itself out of your chest, shaking you to your core.

It sounds wretched. It sounds pathetic. Your ribcage hurts from the sadness it holds, the sadness that needs to get out unless it kills you.

You cling to the picture of Rosinante and Law, holding their smiling faces and the beautiful colours in the clutch of your trembling fingers.

Executed.

Like Rosi was a… a… a dog. Like Rosi did something wrong, when it was Doflamingo who did everything wrong. Like Rosi’s use was done, like Rosi was deemed worthless the moment he stopped being loyal.

The tears stream out of your eyes.

Rosinante didn’t deserve to be killed like a dog.

Your hands clutch the picture, and you start to bawl aloud, letting go.

You cry. You cry so much.

Outside the room, Doflamingo isn’t smiling. His lips are set in a downward arc, shaping a deep, displeased frown as the sounds of your sobs reach his ears.

Doflamingo enjoyed watching people cry, hearing the vermin scream, sob and cry as he hurt them, played with them, terrified them, as he did whatever he wanted to them because he had the birthright to do so. It was fun.

Doflamingo didn’t like hearing you cry, not over an idiot like his little brother who couldn’t even pull through for you, who died and left you behind.

Doflamingo put his gloved hands in the pockets of his merlot suit pants, and walked out of his cabin, locking the doors behind himself. He walked down the hallway, the frown remaining on his face, the skin of his browline and forehead creasing.

The pink feathers of his coat swayed with every step, a royal mantle following its king.

You were Doflamingo’s responsibility now, and Doflamingo would make sure you were happy here. It would take a while, but eventually, you’ll get over it, and accept your new life here.

You belonged to Doflamingo the moment Rosinante took his last breath. The moment Rosinante’s heart beat its last beat, you became Doflamingo’s. He’d take better care of you than his clumsy idiot of a brother ever did.

Scene of Corazon sleeping on the bean bag with the kids was inspired by this FANART

A/N: Doflamingo really saw that merlot red satin pajama set and said “I'll buy that, that's totally normal to buy my sister-in-law who I widowed!” HE'S MANIFESTING 🤣🤣🤣 Reader is already his in his head (not romantically quite yet but he is definitely already FOND of her), Reader just needs to catch up even though Doffy is going at Gear 5 speed. Also, if nobody noticed my Gear 2 (my fav gear) reference I will sit down and cry a lot. I finally wrote the damn ring scene, I kept forgetting that Reader is actively wearing her wedding ring. Apparently, wearing it on the left hand is bcs the left arm is believed to have a vein that leads to the heart, so there's that! Doffy is about to have internal monologues about that wedding ring and how much he hates it and I will die laughing while writing it 🤣🤣

#doflamingo x reader #doflamingo x you #doflamingo x y/n #one piece x reader #x reader #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo #op doflamingo #one piece fanfiction #doflamingo one piece #merlot & primroses

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hannahbarberra162 · 1 month ago

Text

Emperor's Prize, Part 7 (Yan Alpha Shanks x Omega Reader)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3

The other parts

This is the next chapter in the main plot line - thank you for your patience as I dabbled in various AUs.

Thank you to @tryingandfailingtowrite for your invaluable editing and beta-ing and thank you to @sordidmusings for your comments, editing, and generally hyping me up way more than I deserve.

Anyway, enjoy!!

Your POV

Something had shifted between you and the Apex Alpha ever since the disastrous conversation Shanks forced out of you. For one, Shanks was now drinking every night as the Red Force sailed the seas of the New World. He would begin drinking at lunch and wouldn’t stop until he stumbled into the cabin you shared, tumbling into the bed with his hands searching for you. He didn’t pursue anything more than holding you tightly in his arms or sniffing at your scent glands as he ran his hands up and down your flanks. Whereas before he’d sprawled out on the bed, now it seemed like he had to keep at least one body part touching you at all times, even during the night.

It wasn’t like Shanks was celebrating either. He’d drink near his crewmates or by himself while staring off into the sea. It didn’t seem to matter to him what was happening around him. His crew didn’t seem to notice or mind the change, long used to their heavy drinking Captain. Benn sometimes threw you sympathetic glances as Shanks pulled you onto his lap, but other than that, they ignored you. Shanks’s constant need for physical contact was driving you crazy. You could only hope the ship would be docking soon so you’d get some kind of reprieve.

For as close as Shanks was keeping you physically, he was emotionally distant and kept his own counsel. His hands would roam your arms and sides, he didn’t speak to you in the same light-hearted tone as before. He wasn’t mean or cruel; he would still bring you food or drinks, but his previously warm pleasantries to you were spoken in a detached manner. In the mornings, he’d bring you a warm cup of herbal tea and wait with you until you finished it, taking the porcelain cup back with him to the kitchens. Even so, his smile wasn’t as present either with you or with the crew. Shanks was off in his own world, and you couldn’t bring him out of it.

After several days of giving Shanks space, your instincts had you running ragged any time you saw the Captain. The drastic change in Shanks’s nature was setting off your internal alarms - the Omega in you demanded you placate him. Your body was telling you that you’d upset him and that you needed to fix what was wrong. You knew the change stemmed from the conversation that he’d pried out of you, but even so you couldn’t resist the call to console and soothe.

Your mind also railed against you - you’d upset one of the four Emperors. Sure, he’d been nice to you up until that point, but what if he got tired of your attitude like Kid had? The worst moments of your life had been when Kid was upset, using you as an emotional and physical punching bag to work through his anger. And Kid had been decimated by Shanks while only using a fraction of his power - you couldn’t imagine how much worse your predicament would be under an angry Shanks. You didn’t want to find out.

Between your anxiety, biological drive, and Shanks’s distant mood, you weren’t comfortable or able to relax on the ship. You listened to every sigh for a break in Shanks’s nearly palpable tension.

One day, after Shanks silently watched you drink your morning tea, you couldn’t bear it anymore. The ship had been sailing for about ten days with no islands in sight on the horizon, and Shanks still hadn’t broken out of his stupor. You’d even gone to Benn to ask for advice, though being near another Alpha while Shanks was upset caused your anxiety to spiral. It was still the better option to get advice rather than let Shanks’s bad mood continue. You’d approached Benn while he was smoking and reading the newspaper in the early morning sun, while Shanks still slept.

“Mr. B-Beckman, I -”

“Just Benn,” he replied, his eyes still trained on the paper.

“Benn, I…I um, don’t know, is Shanks…is he, um-” you stammered and fidgeted as Benn continued to read, feeling like a child about to be reprimanded by an adult.

“He’s fine. He’ll perk up eventually.” Benn said in a bland tone, putting out his cigarette in the glass ashtray. His movements were unhurried as he folded up his paper and left to go below deck. You chewed on your lower lip, tasting blood after a few moments. Was he mad at what you’d told Shanks too? Did he know what you’d said? Or did he just have nothing else to say to you? Was the whole crew mad at you? Your gut churned as you continued to overthink the interaction. Every possibility only twisted your tangled emotions further into knots as you returned to the cabin.

Shanks was stirring, so you quickly got back into the bed before he noticed you weren’t next to him. You typically woke before he did but one morning, he hadn’t found you next to him upon waking and was even stormier in thought and action throughout the day. Now you made sure to be in bed when he woke to try and mitigate the day’s brooding.

“Good morning, Omega,” he said formally, pushing his red bangs off his face with the back of a hand before he pulled you closer. His hair was longer than you’d ever seen it; maybe he should have taken that haircut on the island in your stead.

“Good morning, Shanks,” you said quietly, aware that he wasn’t looking for conversation. He tucked you into his side and ran his fingers down your spine as his eyes took on a faraway look. Your nose wrinkled in displeasure when the scent of last night’s booze hit you. He remained silent as he continued stroking your skin, and you pressed your lips together as a means to focus. Your mind took on a frenzied state, your instincts screaming for you to lick his neck or kiss him or talk or do anything to make him feel better. Your fingers twitched and you almost reached for him but stopped short. The image of Kuro’s blood dripping down Shanks’s throat had you balling your fists to combat your instinctive need to soothe him. You didn’t want to do anything without permission, you were frightened that any unwanted action would threaten the tenuous balance that Shanks was riding right now.

“I’m sure you’ve been up for a while. I’ll go get your tea,” he said in a monotone and pressed a kiss to your forehead before letting you go.. You were practically in tears as he stood up and straightened his spine, so different from the easy shuffle he’d had when you first met. He almost looked like a different person, now stiff and formal, when he’d been so carefree in the past. His dead eyes roved over you, finding nothing worth lingering on before he left the cabin.

You sat up in the bed and quickly went rifling through his worn shirts, sniffing for the one with the strongest scent. Throwing off your clothes, you donned the extra large shirt and brought the collar to your nose. You took a deep inhale of the Alpha’s scent to calm you down, though you found it slightly soured by the stench of alcohol. Still, you inhaled the rich scent slowly, as if you were savoring it like a fine brandy. You took a few more breaths before the cabin door opened again, revealing the Emperor with your porcelain tea cup.

His eyes flicked over you before giving you a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Outfit change?” he asked, extending the teacup.

“Thank you, Shanks,” you said as you nodded and took it with shaking fingers. Shanks reached out to steady the cup, seemingly concerned about the tea inside.

“Whoa, steady. Don’t get it on the bed,” he said, making sure it was cradled in your hands. Once Shanks was satisfied that you had the tea secure, he sat next to you on the bed and loosely wound his arm around your shoulders. “Drink it while it's still warm,” he said tonelessly, his fingers tilting the cup upwards as you sipped the beverage. It seemed like the flavor intensified every day, but you didn’t mind. The tea had a strong woodsy flavor, not something that you’d pick for yourself, but it wasn’t bad either.

The two of you sat in silence side by side as you sipped, the ship rolling through the currently calm waters. Even though a part of you was calmed by completing a task Shanks asked of you, the lack of emotional connection still drove your immense anxiety. You tried to drink the tea as quickly as you could without burning yourself, eager to show your compliance. Once he saw you had finished the beverage, he held out his hand for you to return the cup. You placed it gently in his palm and Shanks moved to rise from his spot next to you on the bed. Your mind was screaming at you that now was the moment to act; when he was calm and sober, you needed to fix everything .

“W-wait, please...pl-if you want,” you stammered, sure you were making a fool of yourself. You scanned his impassive face as his eyebrow quirked up.

“Is something wrong?” he asked in a neutral tone, moving the cup to a bedside table. “Did something happen?”

“No, I just…I -” You wrung your hands together as you spoke, unsure what words would both convey your meaning as well as not anger him further. His face softened a little as he raised his hand towards your face. You consciously avoided flinching back as he stroked your cheek with one finger. The tension was so high and you didn’t know how to fix it; you could no longer hold back and your eyes filled with tears.

“What’s wrong, little Omega? What’s making you upset?” he said gently, his brown eyes finally focusing on you as he turned completely to face you. You felt like you were moving automatically as you finally moved in an attempt to mollify the Emperor. Your emotions fueled your decisions as you moved yourself to straddle his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck. You pulled yourself closer to his own potent scent glands, his rich scent calling to you like a siren, and buried your face in his neck.

“Mm? This is new,” he said with mild interest, his arm running down your back. You choked back a sob as you felt his fingers roving over the shirt and pushed your face further into his warm, salty skin. You didn’t know what to say or do, usually Shanks led and you followed, but he wasn’t leading. There was nothing for you to follow, he was upset with you, with what you said, what you didn’t say, what you did wasn’t working, nothing was working, he was upset, everyone was upset. Everything was unbalanced and unwell and not right and ruined….

So you did the only thing you could think of at that moment. You put your mouth over his scent glands and bit down. Hard.

Shanks pushed your head back from the crook of his neck gently but firmly, his brows knit together in confusion. You’d heard that when Alphas’ scent glands were bitten, they felt intense pleasure, but Shanks hadn’t made any noise or even movement. He didn’t like it, he was rejecting you, he didn’t want you anymore, he was too upset to keep you, he was going to sell you-

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” he asked quietly, his hand reaching to cradle the back of your head.

Shanks POV

It had taken all of Shanks’s considerable self control not to moan when the Omega had bitten his scent glands. Even now, he wanted to push your head back into place to where you’d been buried in his neck and have you sink your teeth into him again. It was his dream come true, his fantasy, to have you claim him like he so desperately wanted to claim you.

Hongo had unearthed a rare book about Omegas at the previous island and Shanks had finished it over the course of one night. In the past, Omegas had often marked their mates with a bite of their own, which Alphas wore proudly as a mark of distinction. A mating bite by an Omega didn’t have many biological implications beyond strengthening the bond already created by an Alpha, but it showed a love connection between partners. It had been a way to flaunt that partners weren’t only together by fate or designation, that they’d chosen one another. Obviously, things had changed once the availability of Omegas was disrupted by the Celestial Dragons but the idea held appeal. Shanks had told you he wouldn’t mark you until your next heat, and he’d hold himself to that promise. You , however, were free to mark him.

He’d been thinking deeply over the events of his life, drowning himself in whatever alcohol he could find. Ironically, it was the same method used by one of the men consuming many of his thoughts - Silvers Rayleigh. But it wasn’t just Ray that Shanks was reminiscing over - it was Buggy, Mihawk, Roger, Marco, Luffy, Makino, Crocus, Gabban, Shamrock. So many who’d chosen to cast him aside and abandon him when he needed them most. He’d come a long way, he’d had to, but the cost was high. No one had wanted him for who he truly was when he was just Shanks. They wanted the fool, the charmer, the Captain, the Emperor, the swordsman, the father, the brother, the son… but no one wanted him for just Shanks .

Benn was the closest he’d come to having a true connection, and though it was grounding, it wasn’t enough. Something in Shanks needed someone to consume him whole, to take him as he was and leave nothing unturned and untouched. He ruminated about your near statements, about events in the past, friends lost, enemies gained - Shanks had been down this road many times seeking his answers at the bottom of a bottle of booze.

Despite his drinking, Shanks noticed your easily disturbed sleep and the bags under your eyes, so he put in extra effort to console you. Shanks reached for you constantly, trying to show you that he wasn’t going to harm you like he had Kuro on the island. That you would be safe even in his darkest moments. He’d been in deep funks before, he knew Benn and the crew would come to his aid if he buried himself too deep in his cups.

Perhaps some of your desire to soothe him was driven by your biological needs, Shanks thought. He’d read that before the Celestial Dragons had disrupted the natural order, Omegas had generally been peacekeepers, able to ease tensions between the different designations. The book had made reference to other powers that Omegas had, but nothing specific was mentioned. Shanks was going to ask Hongo to follow up and find out further information on other islands - after he answered your mating call.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” he asked, trying his best to keep his tone of voice even. The rising need within him was nearly choking his words but the Omega didn’t seem perturbed. You nodded with averted eyes while licking your lips, a perfect picture of submission. Shanks wanted to roar and claw at his skin, but gentled himself so as not to scare you. “We can always stop, I’ll never force you to do anything you don’t wish to do,” he whispered, pushing your hair out of your face. You tilted your head up to look at him, your pupils blown wide.

“I’m sure.”

Shanks pulled your head towards his own as you wound your arms around his neck. You resumed your former position against his neck, this time kissing and sucking at his scent glands. Shanks did allow himself to groan as your hips started gently rocking against his own, his hand now gripping your outer thigh. Shanks’s cock was rock hard, ready to be buried deep within you as you marked his neck.

Even as Shanks wanted to flip you onto your back and take control, he found your awkward movements on top of him to be rather sweet. You weren’t quite sure what to do with your hands - they kept flitting from his shoulders to his chest to his back - or with your hips. Shanks wasn’t sure you realized you were moaning as well, light little husks that had pre-come dripping from his cock. He smelled your arousal flowering in the air but wanted to give you the chance to take control. You could have discarded him like so many others had, but you’d come back to him even when he wasn’t at his best. Shanks wanted to show you that you did have choices and that with those choices, you had picked him.

Your POV

You weren’t sure how to transition from sitting on Shanks’s lap to full blown sex. Shanks was more in the present than he had been since the island, and your instincts were telling you to continue to appease him. Even so, you didn’t quite know what to do and you hoped he couldn’t tell, or that if he did, it wouldn’t displease him. You’d finally been able to change his mood and you didn’t want to spoil it by doing something wrong.

Before you’d been kidnapped by Kid, you were a virgin since you were always afraid of being with anyone in case your designation was somehow uncovered. With both Kid and Shanks, you’d never been allowed to take the lead - you weren’t even sure what that would look like. There wasn’t a time you’d had sex with Shanks when you weren’t in heat and you didn’t remember most of the times when you did. You leaned back from Shanks’s neck and took the hem of his shirt with shaking fingers. As you started to raise it over your head, Shanks’s hand caught your forearm softly.

“We don’t have to rush. There’s nowhere to go, nothing we need to do. We can take our time,” he said into your ear, his beard scratching your cheek. Shanks had stopped shaving a few days prior, the red stubble now an attractive short beard. Your breath hitched as you bit your lip - maybe he didn’t like what you were doing? You’d heard a moan a little while ago - should you bite him again, or maybe kiss him, or-

“Have you ever been on top?” Shanks asked, biting your earlobe gently after he finished speaking.

“No,” you whispered back, flushing furiously at your lack of experience. You’d done a poor job of initiating, and now he was going to take over, you thought as you braced yourself to be pushed backwards onto the bed.

“You can be, if you want. I’ll be good for you,” Shanks said teasingly with a genuine smile into the skin of your neck. He practically purred when he continued and his body relaxed into a more familiar posture, “would you like that?”.

To your surprise, instead of flipping you back, Shanks lay down on the bed with you still on his lap. Now your hands landed on his chest as you leaned over him, your calves on either side of his hips. Shanks’s hand pressed on the middle of your back, bringing your face closer to his.

“What do you think?” he asked, a genuine smile lighting his features. You reflected his smile with your own, the sun finally peeking out from behind the clouds after a lengthy storm.

“I’m not, um, good at this. I don’t know if you’ll like-”

“Don’t worry about what I like,” he hummed as he settled you more comfortably on top of him. “We’ll learn together,” he said as his fingers ran under the hem of his long shirt on your thighs. “Kiss me,” he husked, his hand reaching up to cup your face. Leaning over him, you planted your hands on either side of his head and took in his handsome features. You bent over and lightly kissed the top of the scar on his face, something you’d always wanted to do but had been too fearful to attempt.

You worked your way down his face, Shanks allowing you to take your time in exploration. When you finally reached his mouth, he parted his lips but didn’t pull you towards him as you expected. You brushed your lips against his own as Shanks thrust up into you lightly, his heels digging into the bed. He whined as you kissed him again, this time allowing his tongue to sweep into your mouth. Shanks pulled you closer but only to kiss you deeper as he fought his own urge to take control.

Breaking the kiss, you leaned even closer and began to nibble down his jaw. Shanks pressed himself into you, his hand returning to your thigh to increase the pressure on his aching cock.

“Please,” Shanks groaned as you worked your way down his neck. For the first time, it almost felt like you held power in your hands - one of the strongest men on the planet was whining beneath you, begging for you. It wasn’t real power in the same way as Kid or Shanks or anyone who could fight, but it was something for an Omega like yourself, you supposed.

You lifted yourself onto your knees and pushed Shanks’s shirt up towards your waist to reveal your now glistening core. Shanks’s hand immediately found its way to its familiar resting place on your ass. After a quick squeeze, you heard the sound of Shanks unbuckling his belt as you leaned down to kiss him again. Shanks shuffled slightly, removing his pants without dislodging you with considerable skill. You felt the tip of his cock prodding at your backside so you reached behind you to feel for it. Your hand couldn’t wrap around its girth as you stroked him lazily. Shanks hissed as your hand continued to work him, your eyelids drooping as you watched Shanks close his eyes and pant wantonly.

“Can I touch you?” he asked, his hand gripping your thigh so tightly you knew there would be bruises the coming day. You placed your hand over his own to move his hand from your thigh to your core. Shanks immediately started running his long fingers through your folds, your wetness coating them liberally. He started to rub at your entrance but quickly moved to your clit, unable to decide where to touch you first. The rough pads of his fingertips started rubbing you, and you clenched in anticipation. You removed his hand from beneath you, wanting to concentrate on your actions. Shanks put his fingers in his mouth, sucking your essence from them as if it were nectar of the gods.

“I need you,” Shanks growled, taking his fingers and putting them near your own mouth.

As much as he was letting you take the lead, Shanks was still an Apex Alpha who was allowing this exercise to continue. You nodded and sidled backwards, positioning him at your entrance. Using your fingers you spread your folds to get the head of his cock poised to enter you. You lowered yourself down on his cock slowly, savoring the stretch as you sank down until your thighs met his own. You bit down on your lip as you closed your eyes, the pleasure intensifying with every inch he was further inside you.

“Don’t hide from me,” Shanks said softly, his hand returning to rub at your clit. You opened your eyes as you continued biting your lips. This wasn’t like your heat, where everyone was off the ship. You knew for a fact there were crew milling about the ship, working and relaxing nearby. “Please, Love, let me hear you,” Shanks begged with a soft smile. You nodded and opened your mouth, but no sounds came out other than your panting.

“Start to rock on me, find what feels good for you,” he suggested in a low voice, his fingers continuing to tease. You shifted forwards and backwards as you continued to adjust to his size. It was difficult to believe that you’d taken him so many times during your heat, crying and calling out for him numerous times a day, even multiple times an hour.

“Try moving your hips in a circle hah t-that’s it,” he crooned as you gyrated on him. Shanks’s heels dug into the bed once again as he resisted the urge to bounce you on his cock. “J-ust like that, s-so perfect,” he stuttered out, holding you in place for a moment to grind into you before returning his hand unerringly to your clit. You felt stuffed full as the band in your lower stomach wound tighter and tighter.

It wasn’t as easy being on top as you thought. You wanted to please Shanks but couldn’t bounce yourself as quickly as he could thrust into you. You tried a rhythm that worked for you as you leaned forward to shift your weight onto your hands, lowering and raising yourself rapidly. You whined as your quads burned with the effort to continue your pace, but you didn’t want to stop. It felt like you couldn’t move fast enough for what you needed, though riding Shanks did feel pleasurable. You shifted to lean back and put your hands on his shins.

“I can’t c-come like this…c-can you…,” you trailed off, hoping that Shanks would understand the unasked request. Shanks laughed without malice and pulled you to lean over him again.

“We can practice again later, you did so well for your first time,” he said with a bright smile. You squeaked as he shifted and quickly rolled you both over so that you were now on your back, your legs still wrapped around him. “But you need something else, yeah?” he said with a grin as he shifted one of your legs over his shoulder. You did the same with the other, caught in a wicked mating press as Shanks settled his weight over you. It felt like he was melding his essence with your own as he began moving, thrusting deep within you.

Every movement he made hit your g-spot as Shanks also started licking your scent gland. He would whisper compliments to you in between nibbles and bites, which only drove your desire further.

“Such a good little Omega, so p-pretty, did such a nnh good job riding me…you need me, hm? Need this from me, just like I need y-you. Such a sweet hneh Omega…” Shanks continued a steady babble of soft praise as he pounded into you, his pace ever increasing. You tried not to hold back your sounds and close your eyes like he’d asked, but it was difficult to stay in the present as pleasure threatened to overwhelm you. Tears pricked your eyes at the mounting sensations, the coil in your gut winding increasingly tighter.

“Sh-aaanks!” you cried as you came around his length, your vision fading to white. You reared back your head and impulsively bit his own glands which were tantalizingly close to your mouth. He didn’t let up for a moment, fucking you without abandon as he roared his own orgasm, his hot come spurting inside you.

As you came back down, you heard someone moaning and whimpering, only to realize it was coming from your own mouth. You hadn’t actually marked Shanks by penetrating his skin but if he had fucked you any harder, you weren’t sure you’d ever walk right again. Shanks was still stroking your clit so you whined and pushed his hand away.

“C’n you give me one more?” he asked, his beard scratching at your neck. You shook your head weakly, unsure if you’d survive another round. “Aw, c’mon, Love. Just one more,” he said with a smile. You let out a light humph and removed your legs from around him, letting them splay to either side. Shanks laughed again and shifted the two of you to let you lie on his chest. “S’ok, you can rest,” he said, kissing the top of your head as you yawned.

You laid down on top of the Alpha, content to let him take control from here on out. You’d finally coaxed him out of his bad mood and helped him regulate his emotions, which in turn was helping your own. You weren’t sure if you acted from self preservation or your base Omega instincts, but either way you felt content as you listened to the steady heartbeat of the Alpha beneath you.

Shanks POV

Shanks rubbed the back of the sleeping of the Omega in his bed, pulling the covers up higher on your body as you napped. Shanks was awake after the love making session, though you’d worn yourself out. He was pleased for you to have some true rest after the days of anxiety had worn you down. You finally trusted him enough to relax again in his presence, secure in the safety he provided for you.

The bite on his neck stung a little but it was the sweetest pain he’d ever felt. He tried to use his haki to determine if there was any headway into making a connection with the Omega but couldn’t detect anything different. Though a touch disappointing, he wouldn’t be concerned until after he marked you during your upcoming heat. Based on the medication he’d been giving you in the tea, you’d be in heat in about a week. Just as the Red Force was able to dock at another island.

Shanks rubbed the bite gingerly, wishing that none of your shallow tooth marks would fade from his skin. It was funny - he had lost his left arm saving Luffy, gotten a facial scar on his left hand side from Teach, and now had an Omega’s bite on the left side of his neck. Significant events in his life were written in flesh and blood on his body, available for all to see. Well visible for a little while, until you made it permanent.

As Shanks watched over you sleeping, you let out a little sigh and nuzzled further into his chest, seeking his protection and warmth. Shanks let out a satisfied hum of his own - he’d finally won you over, you’d chosen him for protection, for connection, for love. All that was left was to seal it.

Taglist: @v1ennie @staarflowerr @treelogirl @rebeccawinters @nocturnalrorobin @mochiclouds @cursedforlife666 @epochal-oracle @whore-of-many-hot-men @one-piecelover @anemonyee @joana7654-blog @mfreedomstuff @littlelovebug98 @hannya-writes @babi-lamb @sanjisleggy @princessuta061108 @twismare @iamrgo @littlelovebug98 @anonymousmuffinbear

#emperor's prize au #shanks x reader #op shanks #alpha shanks #omega reader #omega!reader #omegaverse #red haired pirates #red haired shanks #he's in his ~feelings~#sulky baby #I'm sure that will have no consequences for anyone else #miscommunication abounds #no talk me im angy #and he's gonna make it everyone's problem #Normal times for Benn #he's heard Shanks crying about the clown for years #nothing new

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duvetchico · 2 months ago

Text

lovebirds

summary karina and you buy matching bracelets after a too-close-for-comfort night, pretending it’s platonic, but neither of you can ignore the tension building up

genre fluff / humor / slowburn / slight angst

pairing yu jimin x fem!reader

masterlist.

you and karina had always done sleepovers. like, the classic kind where you end up eating a shit ton of junk food, watching way too many episodes of whatever dumbass drama you’re both obsessed with, and falling asleep halfway through the 4th episode, tangled in blankets and each other.

but tonight? tonight felt different.

karina had been way more touchy than usual. nothing obvious. just little things like brushing against you as she handed you snacks, her leg lightly resting against yours as you two sat on the couch. stuff that didn’t mean anything. probably. maybe. but it made your heart race just a little bit harder.

you, of course, tried to act chill about it. you’d been friends for what felt like centuries, so you shouldn’t be freaking out over little shit like that, right? but here you were, trying not to combust every time she smiled at you or let her fingers linger just a little too long when she passed you the remote.

“hey,” karina says, her voice lazy from the food coma you two were both in. “wanna go grab a drink from the fridge? i’m thirsty.”

you blink, trying to focus on what the fuck she just said because your brain is still stuck on the fact that her thigh brushed against yours two seconds ago.

“uh, yeah, sure.” you scramble off the couch, acting like you didn’t just mentally short-circuit.

karina grins as she stands up. she stretches, all slow and dramatic, and you immediately avert your eyes like you’re some middle schooler who’s never seen a human before.

“you okay?” she asks, eyebrow arched, clearly noticing the way your face is way too red.

“yeah, i’m just—uh—just gonna go get that drink with you. no big deal.”

you try to sound casual but end up tripping on the coffee table as you move toward the kitchen. she lets out a short laugh, clearly not even trying to hide her amusement.

“jesus, calm down, you’re acting like i just asked you to marry me.”

you laugh nervously, still recovering from your near-death experience with the table. “haha, yeah. no. just. uh. thirsty. really thirsty.”

you both make it to the kitchen, but the vibe is weird now. the air feels thicker. like there’s some invisible thing hanging between you two, and it’s not just the stack of empty snack bags.

you open the fridge and grab the first drink you find—an iced tea that you probably should’ve thrown out a week ago but didn’t because who cares, it’s tea, it’s fine. karina pulls out a bottle of water and chugs half of it without looking at you.

there’s a silence. just you two, standing in the kitchen like a couple of awkward teenagers. and then, without even thinking, you ask, “hey, karina, have you ever thought about... i don’t know... dating anyone?”

she pauses mid-swig, looking at you like you just asked her to help you bury a body. her eyes narrow, and she lowers the bottle slowly.

“uh, what?”

“i mean, like, you know… dating? just wondering, you know?” you rush to add, realizing how fucking dumb you sound. “it’s cool, you don’t have to answer or anything, i was just—uh—curious.”

karina blinks at you. and then, without missing a beat, she bursts out laughing.

“you’re joking, right?”

“what?”

“god, you’re such a fucking mess,” she says, still chuckling. “you’re like, about two seconds from tripping into your own feet again. are you sure you’re okay?”

“i’m fine, i’m just... a little hot, okay?” you mumble, hoping she’ll buy it. she doesn’t.

“yeah, you’re hot all right,” she says, winking at you with the kind of grin that makes your stomach drop. “now you’re acting all weird on me, huh? should i be concerned?”

you quickly take a sip of your tea to try and distract yourself from the fact that she just winked at you. Karina, the one person who probably isn’t supposed to make you question your life choices, just winked. And now you’re thinking about it too much.

"you’re definitely doing it on purpose, aren’t you?” you mutter, trying to act casual. “like, you know you’re making me crazy right now.”

karina leans against the counter, looking at you with that dangerously amused look she always has when she knows she’s got you right where she wants you.

“maybe i am. maybe you deserve it for being so cute.”

your face is on fire. “okay, fuck you.”

“aw, baby, don’t get mad,” she teases, wiggling her eyebrows. “i’m just saying the truth.”

you’re this close to losing it, but thankfully, the awkward tension is broken by your phone vibrating on the counter. you practically leap over to grab it, trying to escape the current situation of having a way too attractive girl teasing you with every word.

you look at the screen. it’s a message from yujin. you’re about to open it when karina snatches your phone out of your hands, smirking.

“oh, what’s this? yujin?” she reads out loud, emphasizing the name way too much.

“give it back,” you say, reaching for the phone, but karina’s already holding it above her head like she’s a foot taller than you. spoiler: she’s not.

“so, yujin, huh? maybe you should date her. i mean, if you’re gonna fall for anyone, it might as well be a hot person, right?”

“you’re so annoying,” you growl, but it only makes karina laugh even harder.

“aw, come on. you know i’m right.” she shrugs. “don’t tell me you’re not interested in her.”

“what the fuck, karina? why are we talking about yujin? this is about—”

“yeah, yeah, whatever,” she cuts you off, holding your phone out of your reach like a goddamn villain. “i don’t need to hear it. i’m just saying. i think you’re a little more into me than you’d like to admit.”

you freeze. your stomach drops. “what the fuck did you just say?”

“you heard me,” she says, lowering the phone and walking closer to you, her expression unreadable for once. “you like me.”

“that’s—” you start, but karina’s already leaning in way too close. her breath brushes against your cheek, and your heart might actually give out from the sheer force of her proximity.

“that’s what?” she whispers, her lips a little too near to your skin.

“uh,” you stammer, way too aware of how close you two are right now. “i—uh—i like you. shit.”

you say it, and you don’t know why. it just comes out. your body says the thing your brain is too terrified to admit. you’re so fucked.

karina’s eyes widen. and then she grins. “finally.”

you blink. “finally?”

“yeah,” she says, shrugging. “been waiting for you to say something for months.”

“months? what the hell—”

“i’m so dumb,” she says, rolling her eyes dramatically. “you’re the worst.”

“god, i hate you.”

“uh-huh, sure,” she says, tapping her necklace that’s literally the one she bought for you the last time you hung out. “this doesn’t mean anything, though, right?”

“that’s... that’s it, we’re getting matching jewelry now? like, for real?”

karina shrugs, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “yup. let’s go, lovebird.”

so after the wild confession—and by confession, i mean karina staring at you like she’s known for months that you were dying to get with her and you were too fucking slow to admit it—you two decide to make the dumbest decision possible.

matching bracelets.

because what says “platonic” like two grown adults in matching jewelry that you’ll probably never take off because deep down, it means way too much to both of you?

you’re in the jewelry store now, both of you standing in front of a case of sparkly things, pretending to look like you’re not literally trying to figure out what kind of bracelet won’t make this entire situation way too obvious.

“so,” karina says, casually flicking through the options. “should we go for the ‘best friends forever’ ones, or are we more of a ‘don’t fucking touch me’ vibe?”

you almost choke on your spit at the stupidly perfect question. “um, what the hell? we’re not getting ‘best friends forever’—are you serious?”

karina looks at you with that grin of hers that kills you every time. “yeah, i mean, you are kind of my best friend. though, i guess i could be into the ‘don’t fucking touch me’ vibe... like, you know, make it really clear i’m not that into you.”

you roll your eyes, clearly trying not to die of embarrassment right in the store. you both are standing there like idiots trying to make this seem normal when really, you’re internally screaming.

“shut up,” you mutter, looking away, pretending to check out some dumb bracelet with a stupid butterfly charm. “we’re getting the ones with, like, nothing on them. just simple, okay? nothing that screams ‘we’re secretly in love with each other but pretending we’re not.’”

karina tilts her head, clearly not listening. she’s probably just as fucked in the brain as you are at this point.

“sure,” she says, casually picking up a set of bracelets with matching black leather straps and small silver charms that probably mean something but neither of you will admit it. “these work. platonic bracelets.”

“uh-huh, totally,” you say, taking the bracelets from her hand, your heart thudding as she walks to the counter, clearly trying not to act like you’re not both a little bit too eager to buy these dumb-ass things. “no big deal.”

you both exchange a nervous glance. like, what are you even doing here? this is literally so dumb, but also... it's kinda nice? shit, you’re both fucking idiots, you decide. matching bracelets won’t change anything.

except it kind of does. Because when the cashier hands over the little bag with the two bracelets inside, you both actually stand there for a second, holding them like they’re some big secret.

“well,” karina says, voice a little quieter now, “guess we should... uh... put them on.”

you blink. “yeah, okay. sure.”

you both fumble like absolute morons, trying to not make it awkward as hell, but the second karina pulls one of the bracelets out and starts sliding it onto your wrist, you’re reminded of the fact that you’re standing here with her, and it’s way too intimate for what was supposed to be a “just for fun” thing. she’s so close, her fingers grazing your skin in a way that sends a nervous shiver down your spine.

“there,” she says, finally securing it on your wrist, looking up at you with that same stupid smirk that makes you want to scream. “now you’re stuck with me.”

“what the fuck?” you say, trying to act like you’re not melting from the fact that she’s so casually touching you. “i didn’t sign up for this much commitment, karina.”

“you literally just did,” she shoots back, raising an eyebrow as she pulls out her own bracelet. she slides it on and you swear, it’s like the entire world is watching. your heart’s not even in your chest anymore. it’s somewhere in your throat.

“it’s not like we’re getting married,” karina says, looking up at you with a little glint in her eye. “but, you know, we’re kind of a package deal now. can’t back out.”

“uh, yeah, about that,” you mumble, still too focused on the way the bracelet looks on her wrist to actually make a full sentence. “this doesn’t mean anything, right?”

karina lets out a soft laugh, and you feel your insides flip. “sure, it doesn’t. it’s just a bracelet. nothing big.”

but you both know that’s a lie. because now you’re both way too aware of the stupid bracelets and how they mean something. whether you want to admit it or not.

“whatever,” you mutter, shoving your hands in your pockets, trying to pretend this is all chill. “so, now what? do we, like, take a picture of us wearing them? you know, post it on instagram like the dumbasses we are?”

“i mean, if you’re down, i’ll post it. it’ll be cute,” karina says, her eyes lighting up at the idea. you want to punch her in the arm, but instead, you just smirk.

“fine, yeah. i’ll post it. but only if you don’t tag me.”

“why?” karina asks, clearly not getting the point.

“because then people will know we’re that couple. the one who wears matching jewelry and pretends it doesn’t mean anything.”

“oh, trust me,” karina says, winking. “they’ll know. and we’re definitely that couple.”

“fuck,” you mutter under your breath, already regretting the fact that this might be the beginning of a very stupid and weirdly adorable chapter in your life. matching bracelets, huh? this is going to be a fucking nightmare.

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coco-loco-nut · 4 months ago

Text

High Stakes

pairing: lando x reader

summary: Lando can’t help but to fall for his teammates elusive childhood friend

masterlist requests open

————————————

You strut out of the casino eyes locked on your phone as you change your flight back to Australia. The casino threw a few perks at you, and who are you to say no to free stuff. You don’t even notice as you walk into a brick wall, or someone built like a brick wall.

“I’m so sorry,” you quickly stuff your phone into the black Birkin on your arm. The bag is a contrast to the champagne dress that glitters under the city lights.

“No that was my fault,” you look up, the sound of another Australian voice piquing your interest.

“Australian?” You ask, watching the man study your face.

“Y/n? Oscar,” he says, your face lighting up.

“Osco, I didn’t realize you were in Vegas. What are you here for?” Oscar was your best friend when you lived down the street from him. You moved to a different town a few years later, losing touch quickly.

“I’m a race car driver, what are you doing here?” Oscar notes the clothes your wear, the same designer brands he sees WAGs wear in the paddock.

“Oh, you still race? That’s so cool. With, um, Daniel Ricciardo?” you try to pull a name from the back of your mind.

“I actually replaced him, he’s retired now,” Oscar spares the messy details since it’s pretty clear you don’t have a vested interest in motorsport.

“Oh, that’s sad. Hey, it was nice seeing you again,” your goal is to hit the club you frequent in Vegas, and you only have so long before the line gets too long and won’t let you in.

“Right, yeah, enjoy your night,” Oscar watches you walk away, looking like the opposite of the girl he used to play in the dirt with.

“Miss L/n,” the bouncer smiles, taking your tip as you bypass the line. Taking your phone out of the purse, you leave the purse at a bag check, the staff knowing to take care with it and they get a nice reward. You only come here after winning big anyway - and you ALWAYS win big.

You slide onto a stool at the bar, catching the bartender’s eye. He’s the reason you frequent this one in particular. He makes a mean drink and is quite pleasant to look at. He picks up a liquor bottle, winking at you down the bar.

“Welcome back, this one’s on me,” he slides a cocktail to you before going to serve another customer. Maybe tonight you will actually give him your number, but the cat and mouse game you have going is too much fun.

The cocktail is fresh, something you haven’t tried before. It’s like a mix of some of your go to’s. You finish it quickly, craving the pulse of music.

“Going so soon?” the bartender asks as you slide a five to him.

“I need to dance. I’ll be back,” your sly smile makes his eyes follow you as you exit to the main club.

You find the bar once again. The one with the shitty liquor that serves everyone’s main goal. Getting shitfaced. You order two green tea shots, the familiar set of the local dj calling you to the floor.

“Your shot is on me,” a British man, or boy based on his height and struggle to grow facial hair, says as he slides beside you. You raise your eyebrow, passing one of your shots to him. You can sacrifice the buzz you are chasing for an adventure.

“Cheers, but I think you owe me another round now,” your eyes sparkle like the dress you are wearing. The man’s eyes rake your body as you throw the shot back. He quickly follows suit before ordering another round.

“Anything for a beautiful woman like you. I didn’t expect to see an Australian in the States. What’s your name?” he says, filling the time as you wait for the shots.

“I didn’t expect to see a Brit, but here we are,” you smile, unwilling to give your name until he gives his.

You take the next round quick, itching to dance.

“Lando, mate, the team is waiting on you to do the round- Y/n?” a familiar face appears beside you once again. Lando, the boys name is Lando.

“Twice in one night, are you stalking me Piastri?” you tease.

“No, we are here celebrating with the team. This is where you were in a rush to be?” Oscar asks and you nod. Lando looks between the two of you confused. Of course his teammate knows the Australian he just met.

“I always come here when I’m in Vegas. What’s next, Osco? You’ll be in Monaco next week?” you laugh. Oscar realizes how little you really know about racing or him.

“Not next week, no,” Lando answers. For a minute you forgot about him.

“We need to get back to the team. Want to join us?” Oscar asks you, a little disappointed when you shake your head.

“I need to get on the floor and dance. I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” you walk off towards the crowd of moving bodies.

“How the hell do you know her?” Lando watches you leave.

“Old friend, we were best friends for a few years before she moved away,” Oscar explains. Maybe third time will be the charm in getting your number so you can actually stay in touch. Lily has asked about you when looking at old childhood photos.

“She’s hot,” Lando comments, following Oscar back to the team.

“I couldn’t tell you the first thing about her anymore. I looked her up on the way over here and nothing came up. No socials or anything,”

“Odd,” Lando shrugs. An hour later you are back at the bar, and Lando strikes again.

“Do you travel a lot?” Lando asks and you nod.

“Yeah, when I’m not in Australia I travel for work. About a month ago I was in Singapore, around Marina Bay, and before that Macao. London, Paris, and Sydney are other places I frequent,” you tell him, shame letting your eyes roam his body, the top buttons of his shirt undone.

“I travel a lot too,” Lando takes a step closer. one goal in mind.

“I should start visiting new places. You know, I’ve never been to the middle east,” you wave your hand, thinking it would make your statement bigger.

“You should come to Abu Dhabi, Osc and I will get you a paddock pass. You’ll be in Monaco for a couple weeks, right?” Lando asks and you nod.

“Yes, but I was planning on going back to Australia after,” your eyes narrow, unsure at what he’s getting at.

“I’ll be flying to the race from Monaco, why don’t you join Oscar and I on the flight there and fly back to Australia with Oscar?” Lando offers. You turn your attention to your phone, Lando fears he lost you.

“Give me your number, I’ll let you know tomorrow once I am sober,” you hand your phone to him, allowing him to enter his details.

“Everything ok?” Oscar asks, startling Lando as he returns your phone to you.

“Yeah, Lando just invited me to Abu Dhabi,” you turn to Oscar, extending your hand to him. “I’m going back to the casino hotel, let’s stay in touch this time,” you watch Oscar quickly make a contact for himself, sending a text so he has your number as well.

“Do you want me to walk you back?” Oscar asks, concerned.

“Enjoy your party, I’ll be fine,” you let your drunk impulse take over, hugging the shy man before strutting away to get your purse.

“I wish I knew more about her. She’s so different from the girl I grew up with. I’m sure my sisters or mom could tell me,” Oscar says, watching you leave. You don’t even stumble, despite mixing heels and alcohol.

“I think she works for casinos. She mentioned traveling for work and everywhere she goes there are a lot of them,” Lando guesses. Oscar shrugs.

“I’ll ask around,” Oscar replies, turning your words over in his mind.

You thought about moving to Monaco, you love it when you are in the small country,but you can’t seem to permanently leave Australia. Monaco always treats you well, yacht parties mixed with rides around the city in expensive cars, not to mention all the money you win. It really is a tempting move. Maybe one day.

Lando picks you up outside the hotel, his chauffeur takes care of your luggage while you slide into the back. Oscar and Lando were very helpful in planning the last minute trip, despite the racing and team meetings.

“I got you a gift,” Lando hands you an orange bag. You open it and pull out a shirt and hat.

“Thank you so much. Orange isn’t usually my color-“

“Papaya,”

“But I will definitely wear it during the race. Thank you,” your brow furrows at the interruption as you carefully place the clothing back into the bag.

“It’s not orange, it’s papaya. McLaren is very insistent on that. It’s my hat and Oscar’s jersey,” Lando says, watching you tuck the bag beside your feet.

“I see,” an easy conversation falls between you as you approach the airport. The private jet awaits. Oscar is already inside when you arrive.

“Welcome aboard,” Oscar greets you as you settle into a seat. Some more people who you don’t know join the flight.

“Carlos, this is Y/n. She’s Oscar and I’s friend,” Lando says as the man extends his hand to you. You shake it, examining him.

“Nice to meet you,”

“How do you know them?” The Spaniard asks you.

“I grew up with Oscar and ran into him in Vegas. Lando invited me to Abu Dhabi,” you simplify the story.

As soon as you reach cruising height, Lando pulls out a case from a closet.

“Do you like playing cards?” he asks you, setting the black leather case onto a table.

“Occasionally, I love solitaire,” you sit down beside Lando.

“Name of the game is Texas Hold‘Em,” Lando sets it up as the group buys in. You look at your cards and the people around you.

You fold early despite your very good hand, needing to tank yourself.

“Let me take a look at that,” Lando says at the end of the round, checking your cards. “You had a straight, you should’ve stayed. It would’ve won,”

“It would? Silly me, I guess I’ll have to learn as I go,” you bat your eyes. A little lying to get some action never hurt anyone.

“I can teach you,” Lando wraps an arm around your shoulder as Oscar clears his throat.

“That would be unfair, don’t you think?” Oscar says, unsure why he’s feeling protective over you. Maybe it’s because of Lando’s womanizing reputation and you being an old friend.

“It would, we can’t do that,” you agree. You easily win the next three rounds.

“What a comeback, quite impressive,” Carlos says as you collect the money at the center of the table.

“Beginners luck,” you shrug coyly. You purposely lose the next two, going all in on a pair of three’s, an awful hand. It kills you to sandbag, but it would be very suspicious if you were annihilating the group. Then the game comes to a small break for drinks and for Oscar to use the restroom, you quietly flirt with Lando. Carlos declares himself out, choosing to nap instead.

“My offer for lessons still stand,”

“Oh? How would we go about those,” you ask, brushing your leg against his while you gently set your hand on his bicep.

“You, me, and a game a strip poker in my room tonight,” Lando suggests, eyes darkening a little as you lean closer.

“Sounds marvelous.” your devilish smile sets Lando’s mind racing as you turn towards Oscar to talk.

“Why are you pretending to not know how to play?” Oscar arches his brow at you. Slowly but surely, it’s like the two of you never moved away from each other.

“It’s fun. I don’t know how to play that well anyway,” you smile, playing off your lie.

“He’s my teammate, you know,” Oscar’s voice has a tone that warns you not to fuck up.

“I know, Osc. It’s harmless flirting. Besides, I’m not in the right place to start anything serious,” you shrug, knowing Lando’s reputation.

“Does he know that?” both of you glance at Lando who stares like a lost puppy dog.

“I’ll make sure he knows, don’t worry,” you promise as Lando calls both of you back into the game. Fifteen minutes later, Oscar folds.

“It’s just you and me now,” Lando says, both of you with an even amount of earnings.

“Don’t hold back on me,” you bat your eyes innocently as you get your hand. Oscar peeks over your shoulder, watching the cards.

“Don’t you dare fold,” Oscar hisses, you feign confusion and nod.

“Let’s see your cards,” Lando says, laying his down first after your final bets. You checked him, not wanting to discredit your lie.

“Is this good?” you ask as his eyes go wide.

“Holy shit, yeah. You won, four of a kind,” Lando pushes the money towards you.

“No, I couldn’t. You keep it. I’m well enough off anyway,” you give him the money, not really interested in the winnings of a one hundred euro buy in.

Lando starts to protest, but you move from the table to your seat before he can get a word out. You put on your headphones and pull out a book. Oscar follows Carlos in the pursuit of sleep. Two hours down, six more to go of the flight.

You feel a presence beside you and look up from your book.

“What’s up?” you ask, pulling an earbud out, marking the page of your book and setting it down.

“Everyone’s asleep,” he whispers. You glance around the plane as he inches closer to you. You feel his hand brush against your arm.

“Lando,” your breath hitches, his face close to yours.

“Let me kiss you,” he says, your head tilting up against your better judgment.

“We can’t do this,” you whisper, lips almost brushing his.

“Why not?” you get the sense that he doesn’t care as your head starts to spin and there is a strange pull between you.

“I’m not looking for a relationship,” you state.

“Good, this is just a bit of fun, right?” his hand runs up and down your leg as you fight your body from getting closer.

“Right,”

“So kiss me,” Lando’s voice is breathy as he connects your lips. You pull back as you feel yourself losing control.

“Lando, we can’t, not here,” you shake your head, trying hard not to be pulled in by his puppy dog eyes and curls.

“Ok, what if we talk instead?” he sits back in the chair. You let him ramble, feeling yourself start to drift off. Lando notices you yawn as you try to carry on the conversation.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so tired,” you apologize, shifting in the seat to a more comfortable position.

“It’s okay, planes always put me to sleep too,” Lando doesn’t take your sleepiness to heart.

“Wanna listen to music?” you ask, pulling out your headphones. Lando simply nods, taking an earbud from you.

He feels a light weight on his shoulder a few minutes later. A quick glance tells him that you fell asleep. Lando can’t stop the butterflies in his chest. A beautiful woman is unintentionally using him as a pillow, it’s natural. He will never admit that he has a crush, but he wishes that you didn’t insist it is all for fun. Lando knows that Oscar doesn’t trust him with you, despite your recently rediscovered friendship. He will just have to prove it.

Unfortunately for Lando, you see more of Oscar and less of Lando during the weekend. You also left earlier than planned, citing a family thing that needed you back in Australia.

Oscar talks to you frequently, but you don’t show to a race. Lando asks questions, and even finds your social media, but it’s private and Oscar gives vague answers. It is nearly a year until Lando sees you again in Singapore.

Oscar and Lando are exploring Marina Bay when a casino advertisement catches Lando’s eye.

“Osc, is that-“

“Y/n,” Oscar finishes Lando’s sentence.

“Play where champions play. Poker champion? I thought she didn’t know how to play,” Lando reads the ad and your description. You started playing some public tables and tournaments in the past year, the sponsorship and casino money was alluring. You play private tables most of the time, but a tournament or two never hurts.

“I guess we were wrong,” Oscar stares at it.

“She lied to me,” Lando is shocked, he thought you had some natural talent, but you let him teach you. He feels a little stupid.

“She lied to all of us. It kinda explains why she never told me how she got rich or what her job is,” Oscar frowns, watching as security exits the casino to escort a guest in from the black SUV.

Without thinking, Lando moves towards the entrance. “Y/n!” he calls out to you, watching your head snap over in surprise. Oscar approaches Lando, staying a few steps behind.

“Lando? Osc? What are you doing here?” you ask, the security silently encouraging you to keep walking.

“We have a race-“ Oscar starts, but you cut him off.

“Don’t stand there, follow me in,” you tell them before saying something to the security. Whatever you said, it lets Lando and Oscar get near you.

“You have better security than we do,” Oscar says.

“Well, the casino wants to protect its assets,” you shrug.

“I think you have some explaining to do,” Lando seems off, colder than usual. You glance around.

“Not here, in my suite,” you say, leading the way to one of the best rooms available.

Lando and Oscar gape at the opulence, it’s nicer than their rooms.

“You are here for a race?” You ask as you pour a glass of water.

“Yeah, do you want a pass?” Oscar asks without a second thought.

“Sure, maybe I’ll bet on you to win,” you smile, crossing the room to take a seat.

“Why are you here?” Lando asks, first Vegas an Monaco, now Marina Bay.

“Work. I’m playing a few tables and a tournament for sponsorship purposes,” you lean back in the chair, not sure of how much you should say.

“I thought you didn’t know how to play?” Oscar looks between you and Lando, curious at the standoff and tension between you.

“I lied. I only recently started playing public games,” your eyes narrow a little, gauging the room.

“Why?” Oscar asks, bringing himself into the conversation.

“Why I lied or why I only just started playing publicly?” you don’t get an answer so you choose to answer both. “I lied because I wasn’t comfortable with my career and I didn’t want to be judged,” your arm raises to scratch your neck, an emotional cue that you haven’t been able to stop yourself from doing. “I also didn’t want to embarrass you. I only just started playing publicly for more money and casino sponsorship,” you watch their reactions, crafting your words carefully based on the small cues they give you.

“So what do you do exactly?” Oscar pries.

“I play card games and casinos invite me to play worldwide. It attracts regular people to have high caliber players in house, and the expensive tables are lucrative for me. It’s simple marketing,” Lando looks at you, the wheels turning in his mind.

“So you do work for the casinos?” he asks, wondering if his first guess from when he met you was right at all.

“You could say so, yeah, in a way,” you look between both of them. “Any more questions?”

“How did you start?”

“I just kinda fell into it. Picked up a lot of games quickly and had natural luck and talent,” you answer, you seem so nonchalant about it.

“How rich are you?” Oscar knows he probably shouldn’t ask, but he’s curious anyway.

“I am not answering that,” you laugh, almost affronted that he would ask. “Let’s just say, I could retire right know and live very comfortably for the rest of my life,” you answer. It helps that you’ve made some very good investments over the year to build your net worth. Even if you lost money on an expensive buy in, you’d be well off.

“Holy shit,” Lando whispers, glancing at Oscar who meets Lando’s eye. There’s a subtle shift in the air. The way they look at you now is different. It’s like even though they knew you were rich from how you dressed, they didn’t know how so it was pushes aside. Now it matters to them. This is the reason you don’t tell people. Not because they are likely to ask for money, it’s the judging. Like the way you earn your living makes you a bad person.

“Look, if you guys want to judge, that fine. I made my money legally and that’s what matters to me. Now, if you will excuse me, I am contractually obliged to make an appearance and play a public table,” you stand up, resolute in yourself and the choices you’ve made with your life. If they judge you or want to act like they don’t know you going forward, that’s their prerogative. Lando and Oscar watch as you leave, one security guard remaining by the door to escort them out.

“Should we follow her?” Lando asks, feeling like they’ve fucked up. They didn’t have to say a word, the way they reacted told you enough.

“Yeah,” Oscar stands, a pain in his chest at how quickly you turned cold. “There’s a reason she keeps people at an arms length, I think we are that reason,” Oscar murmurs, the shame setting in.

“Can we watch her play?” Lando asks the guard as he brings them back to the main floor.

“Yeah, check the map over there,” the guard points to a wall, leaving Oscar and Lando to fend for themselves. They stay silent as they walk through the casino, finding the poker tables. A small crowd is near yours spectating.

“Why didn’t she tell us from the start?” Lando asks quietly as they approach.

“I assume she doesn’t want people to ask for money, same reason we don’t always disclose our career,” Oscar shrugs, he knows he’s wrong but doesn’t want to admit it.

You are sitting at a 1,000/2,000 no-limit game of hold'em. Typically you would be at a super high roller table, in a fancy room, schmoozing with execs and other professional players. But this is a business appearance, and all you have to do is win a few hands then you can leave the table.

“Maybe. Maybe she thought that because we were rich, we would understand and wouldn’t judge. We are her friends,” Lando’s voice cracks slightly, they stay silent as they are within earshot of the table.

They lean against a railing, separating the few people near them from you and the table.

Oscar feels bad for the people brave enough to play you. Your eyes are cold and calculating, not one muscle on your face moves as you observe. You slowly build a depth of knowledge about your opponent’s, balancing poker strategy with the emotional game. It’s impressive.

“She’s like a strategist and driver combined,” Oscar murmers, barely loud enough for Lando to hear. Lando simply nods in agreement as you toss a coin into the pot, calling the bet. You are not only doing the strategy that a team would do for Lando and Oscar, but the emotional game that Lando and Oscar do when driving.

“This is so hot,” Lando whispers as you seem to win with ease. Luck seems to naturally fall to you, but it’s just skill. You glance up from the little bubble of the game, noticing Lando and Oscar watching, but you make no indication of it.

“There’s been rumors that she is going to join a professional tour,” someone beside the two drivers says, quiet enough that it doesn’t disturb the game, but loud enough that it catches Lando and Oscar’s eye. So you were serious about being more outward about your career.

Lando and Oscar are gone by the time you leave the game, and you aren’t surprised. You don’t stick around, you just collect your money and retreat to your room. Typically you would indulge in the amenities that the casino has to offer- the bar, restaurants, spas, etc. When you get to your room, there is an envelope near the entrance. You open it and find paddock passes for the weekend. Your hand shakes slightly as you pull them out, a frown settling on your face.

Despite your better judgment, you show up to the first free practice. You don’t wear the gear that the boys got you, opting for a neutral outfit.

“Y/n L/n! I’m Zak Brown, CEO of McLaren Racing,” a man extends his hand out to you. “I’m a huge fan so I was thrilled when your agent reached out to request paddock passes,” your eyes narrow slightly in confusion. You don’t have an agent. He does look like he would follow the poker world though, and your emergence into the public tables has been a hot topic recently.

“Thank you for having me,” you shake his hand. He turns and waves a hand, your eyes follow his motion.

“These two are our drivers, Lando and Oscar,” Zak introduces you but you don’t offer a hand to shake, keeping them folded in front of your chest. Oscar’s heart hurts, a year of rebuilding the friendship washed away.

“We will show her around,” Oscar offers, having some free time.

“Thank you, Oscar,” you ignore Lando, finding it harder to forgive him. You’ve known Oscar for longer, which makes it easier, even if it shouldn’t.

“Right, I’ll see you later,” you don’t dare to look at him, his dejected voice tells you enough.

“I’m really sorry, I was just stunned. It’s not really a career you think about,” Oscar starts, knowing you’ve already had a tour of the McLaren area.

“I take it you are my so-called agent?” you ask, ignoring his apology.

“Guilty. I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just wanted to give you the option of acting like you don’t know us, in case you needed space,” you nod at Oscar’s words, processing them with every step around the paddock.

“I talked to Lily. I’m sorry for storming out on you abruptly. I realize that it was a complete one eighty from how I was moments prior. You weren’t the one judging, and I overreacted a bit,” you take a deep breath, offering an apology of your own, one specific to Oscar.

“You think you overreacted because you were scared of being in that position already. You had a right to remove yourself from the situation, and I’m sorry I had a part in it. You are my friend, and that is more important than anything else,” Oscar bolsters you, and reiterates his apology.

“Thank you, it means a lot to have you as a friend,” you open your arms slightly, inviting your typically stoic friend in for a hug. Oscar carefully wraps his arms around you, not much of a hugger.

“Should we talk about the other elephant-“

“Nope,”

“Gotcha. Want ice cream?” Oscar asks as you stand outside of Ferrari.

“Always,” you tentatively follow him inside.

“I was jokingly adopted by Charles, now I get to come in and get ice cream,” Oscar shrugs, explaining as if it’s no big deal. You are out as quickly as you went in, but you acquired your target.

“Some fans posted photos of Lando and I leaving the casino, we got asked if we had gambling addictions,” Oscar tells you between bites.

“Really?” you choke back a laugh. “What did you tell them?” you ask, curious as to how they played it off.

“We said that wanted to see if it was like the casino in Percy Jackson,” you shake your head, taking another bite of the ice cream.

“Well, that’s one excuse. By the way, are you even allowed to have ice cream right now?” you ask, realizing that he’s probably on a diet.

“No, but it’s worth it. You’d be surprised how often drivers break their diets. It’s not like major, just a little cheating,” Oscar waves it off. By the time you return to McLaren, it’s like nothing happened between you. “I’ll be back in a minute, wait here,” Oscar says, leaving you at a couch while he disappears into another room. Lando takes the opportunity to pounce, sitting in the chair closest to you.

“Y/n? Can we talk?” you feel your heart freeze. You turn your head away from him slightly, staring out the window. “Please?” his voice breaks, and you silently look at him. You don’t say a word, but he takes the bit of attention you’ve given him.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I judged you when you offered your trust. I hurt you in a vulnerable moment, and I know that it’s hard to forgive in moments like that,” Lando shifts closer, but still keeps some distance.

“I expected more from you,” the words sting as you look back towards the window. Lando looks down at his hands for a moment before he looks at you again.

“Yeah. I know. I never wanted to ruin what we have,” your head snaps over to stare at him.

“There is no we. We kissed once, and it didn’t mean anything. I don’t know where you got that idea from,” you practically seethe and Lando is afraid he poked the bear.

“Right,” Lando whispers. He knows his reputation. One he’s wanted to change since meeting you, but you don’t know that. “You’re right, I misspoke,” Lando says even if it kills him to. “I just meant that we had a friendship starting and I was excited to get to know you more,” he covers his butt, telling you what he thinks you want to hear. You don’t expect it to hurt, but it does.

“It takes more than that. It will take time and effort,” you don’t know why you are making him work for it, but the words feel right. Lando’s eyes light up a little, there is a chance. Maybe he can find a way to win you over, but there is one big obstacle in the way. The one standing in front of him. Oscar.

“We have to get ready for our first practice session. Feel free to take food or drinks,” Oscar tells you, silently telling Lando to leave. You give Oscar a nod, letting him know you are okay.

Surprisingly, it’s you who finds Lando next. It does take until after the second free practice, Oscar and Zak kept you busy. You can’t help but feel a little guilty after sitting with your thoughts. He’s in a quiet spot, leaning against a railing. You wouldn’t have known it existed without Oscar unintentionally giving it away. The secluded spot is invisible to the rest of the paddock and cameras, perfect for being alone. It’s odd, seeing him so quiet. You stand beside him, a decent amount of space between you.

You can tell he knows you are there, but neither of you speak. It’s an odd comfort, standing in silence with someone whom you admittedly don’t know that well. Your silent standoff, like a game of chicken, ends when Lando unintentionally steps closer and you take the first metaphorical step.

“One chance. One shot to earn a fragment of my trust back,” you murmur into the darkness, eyes trained on the night sky above. You didn’t think you would care, that you could dismiss him like every other guy who hurt you before. You didn’t expect to feel guilty.

Lando doesn’t hesitate, pulling you into a kiss. It’s different than the one shared on the plane. This is tender, unrushed, nearly a year of yearning being poured into it. His hand finds your neck, fingertips in your hair as you melt into the kiss. The other hand finds itself on your waist. You may not know where you stand with him or your readiness for any semblance of a relationship, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Lando gently pulls away to breathe, his eyes searching yours as his hands keep you close.

“I’ve spent the last year trying to be better, to strengthen my relationships and working on myself to be worthy of you. You made me want to be better, even if you didn’t want me. I don’t know where you stand as compared to last year, but I want you,” he stresses his last word, driving it into your soul and it hits you. He doesn’t care what you do for a living, if you are rich or poor, or even that Oscar is likely your closest friend. He likes you enough to want to better himself.

“Lando, I-“ the words leave your mouth before you begin to think.

“Shh, don’t say anything unless you mean it,” he stares into your eyes, igniting a fire deep inside. Something shifts with that fire, a stone building your resolve.

“Fuck it,” you whisper, allowing yourself to be pulled back into Lando’s orbit. His soft lips kissing you once more - this time with more passion yet just as soft as before.

“We can take this slow, at whatever pace you need,” Lando promises against your lips. He feels like if he lets you a step further away, you will disappear for another year.

The rest of the weekend passes by with stolen glances, quick kisses in hidden corners, and the thrill of brushing hands. You feel like a school girl, but this time you and Lando agree to keep in touch and already have dates planned.

Keeping it quiet only lasts until the end of the season. You couldn’t hide it from Oscar or keep it a secret, so you were upfront with the truth - things are starting to turn serious.

You are in Monaco when Lando returns from Abu Dhabi. You spent the week setting up your new apartment, choosing a cheaper place. It helps you feel like you aren’t wasting money when traveling.

A knock on your door prompts you to pause your music, rushing towards the door while trying not to hip check one of the boxes in your living room.

“Surprise!” Lando grins holding takeout bags in his hands.

“You weren’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow!” you throw your arms around him, taking in the moment.

“I got an earlier flight, didn’t feel like partying two nights in a row,” he says into your shoulder before stepping out of the hug and into the apartment. He looks around, setting the bags on your wooden dinner table. “This looks so much nicer than when we tour it,” Lando compliments your hard work. The lighting is soft and inviting, plush rugs adding a coziness that makes him want to snuggle under a blanket on the couch that looks perfect for a nap.

“Thanks, it’s really coming together,” you smile, there are a lot less boxes, most just decoration that need placed. You help Lando with the dinner, settling in on the couch to eat. Lando was right, the couch is incredibly comfortable and soft.

“So I was thinking, my friends do this card game night a couple times a year, and I want you to join me, if you’d like,” Lando proposes between bites, locking eyes with you.

“You want me to meet your friends?” you nearly choke on your food. Sure, Oscar knows that you and Lando are seeing each other, but that’s it.

“Well, I’d really love for you to meet them as my girlfriend,” Lando studies your reaction. The way you instinctively school your face to not give a reaction before your brain reminds you who you are with, then a smile creeps onto your face.

“I would love to meet your friends as your girlfriend, but this isn’t you bringing me with you as an advantage?” you ask just to be sure and because you are still processing that he asked you to be his girlfriend.

“Well, it is a plus, but I just want them to know how awesome you are and rub it in their faces,” Lando sets his food on the coffee table and moves closer to you so your knees are brushing.

“Lan,” your voice is soft, overjoyed at the thought. You set the food aside and lean in to kiss him.

“So, what do you want me to do first?” Lando looks around the room at the boxes, ready to help with whatever you need.

“Lando, you just finished your season. Don’t worry about the apartment,”

“I want to help my girlfriend set up her new home,” he insists.

“Well, in that case, let’s start… in the bedroom,” your sly smile turns to a grin as Lando chases you into the bedroom, his arms wrapping around your waist to pick you up and carry you to bed.

You lay under the sheets together, bodies pressed against each other, the darkness of the room inviting for deep conversation.

“Why weren’t you ready when we first met?” Lando asks the question that he’s wondered since seeing you in Singapore.

“Every guy who I got close to, every friend I made, always did one of two things: try to use me for my money, and or ghost me because they thought I was a criminal,” you admit, allowing yourself to come to terms with it. You answer a question Lando never dares to ask aloud - why Oscar and Lily seem to be your only friends. His heart hurts for you, you don’t deserve that treatment, even if he hurt you in a similar way before.

“There is nothing wrong with your career. You play legally and honestly, no one has a right to judge,” Lando reassures you, you whisper thanks and savor the comforting silence of the room.

Lando rarely leaves your apartment those few days, only going to retrieve the essentials. Now you sit in his friends apartment, liquor flowing as you are deep into the card games.

Lando whispers in your ear, a mixture of flirting and telling you to stop sandbagging yourself. His leather jacket covers your shoulders, he claimed to be too warm with it on while you were a little cold in your t-shirt.

“Read it and weep,” you show your hand, grinning as the boys groan and Lando laughs. He wishes real money was being spent, you already ran a couple of his friends out of the game - including himself.

“Where did you find her? She’s much better than you,” one of the guys teases Lando, who wraps an arm around your chair. Your cheeks flame a little as you nod in agreement.

“It isn’t hard,” you laugh, swatting Lando’s hand away as he lightly pinches your shoulder.

“Didn’t any of you do a background check on my girlfriend? You need to learn from every girl group ever,” Lando shakes his head, placing a soft kiss behind your ear.

“Hm, we do tend to know everything about a guy our friend is seeing,” you hum.

“Detectives, all of them,” one of the guys agrees as another is furiously google searching you.

“Holy shit. You are so much cooler than he is,” another tells you, making your cheeks even more red. Lando captures the moment in his memory, how adorable you are when you blush.

“I make more than him, so he’s my WAG,” you tease as an outlet for the mix of embarrassment and flattery.

“And I’m proud of it,” Lando doesn’t lie, he would rather be your WAG than have any other girl by his side. Another round gets dealt and you hone in on the game.

“You’re so sexy when you play wearing my clothes,” Lando whispers in your ear and it takes every bit of willpower in you to not react. It’s like a game to see how far he can push your limits. “I can’t wait to take you home,” he says before resting his chin on your shoulder, his hand moving down to rest on your hip.

The alcohol in your veins makes it hard for you to control yourself. His jacket weighs heavily on your shoulders, as he continues to whisper his plans for you later that night. Your skin is alight as his fingers trail the bit of exposed skin at your hip.

You fold, having a bad hand and your mind spinning with desire. A fake yawn gives Lando a cue to cut in.

“I am afraid it is past our professional’s bed time,” Lando’s eyes shine playfully as you avoid the smirks on his friends faces, the ones that tell you they know why you are leaving.

“Well, this isn’t a casino, no need to be up this late,” you yawn again, playing along as you stand. Lando gives his goodbyes as you exchange the always awkward ‘nice meeting you’s’.

You hand is warm as your fingers interlock with Lando’s. He leads you down the stairs and out to his car, giggling as you tell him to slow down before he breaks an ankle. Pure bliss is how Lando would describe it. Just the two of you in the empty street, stars twinkling in the night sky, Lando pinning you against his car with your hands around his neck. You would give anything to stay there forever.

#f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagines #lando norris #oscar piastri

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wallofchynax · 3 months ago

Text

WILDEST DREAMS

Synopsis: You're a sweet naive college girl who gets dragged to a wrestling show by your best friend. What you didn't know is that a certain Heartbreak Kid had his eyes on you as soon as you stepped into the afterparty bar and had his heart set on ruining you in the best way possible (Requested. Thank you for the request <3)

got a request? send it over to me <3

content warnings: alcohol, shawn being a menace, PiV sex, virginity, corruption, lots of pet names, creampies, overstimulation.

The bar was packed with rowdy wrestling fans buzzing from the nights show. Music was loud, the drinks were flowing and somewhere in all of this, you were trying to keep up with your friends who seemed much more comfortable in this enviroment than you were.

“I can’t believe we are actually here,” Your best friend buzzed next to you as she leaned against the bar, “Do you know what this means? We might actually get to see some of the hot guys here,”

A thought that hadn’t even crossed your mind until now. You weren’t all that much of a wrestling fan. You knew the big names, but you had been to enough shows to know who who was, and there was only one person on your mind who you wouldn’t have minded seeing.

And that was Shawn Michaels. You had seen him at a few shows. He was cocky, arrogant and rude. The way he was booed by the fans and yet still was able to crack jokes, dance and strip as if he was bringing the house down. You guessed that maybe in a way, he was but it just seemed far removed from your experience. You were, by all accounts, a good girl who wouldn’t say boo to a ghost.

However, you thought a lot about the Heartbreak Kid. He was handsome but his attitude maybe wasn’t your cup of tea. But you didn’t need to wonder for long. Because as you turned back toward the crowd, there he was. Shawn Michaels, in the flesh.

He was leaning against the bar just a few feet away, drink in hand, wearing casual normal clothes but he still looked very much like a male model. His hair was slightly damp, either from sweat or from a post-match shower, and his eyes were scanning the room.

And then his eyes landed on you.

You were like a deer in headlights. But instead of looking away, your eyes watched him. You weren’t even dressed provocatively. Maybe not like a wrestling fan. A casual dress and a pair of boots but you weren’t dressed like you were wanting a hook up. And yet, you seen the way his eyes lingered.

Oh dear.

Shawn caught you staring at him and tilting his head, like he was already entertained by your reaction.

“I... I need to go to the bathroom,” you said, cutting off your friends talking before getting up. You didn’t look at him again, but you could feel his eyes burning into your skull as you got up from your seat and through the crowd and to the bathroom. Thankfully, you weren’t followed as you went inside to hide; by pretending to fix your makeup so other people didn’t think you were having a crisis in the bathroom.

Okay, Shawn Michaels might have been looking at you, but he might not have been. You didn’t know. You didn’t go out to clubs very often and to be fair, you were surrounded by your friends so maybe he was watching one of them.

Yeah. After all, they were the big fans out of you and your friends. That wouldn’t be fair to bag a wrestler when you weren’t even all that much into it. Sighing, you decided you should maybe emerge from the bathroom and...

Standing outside, waiting for you, leaning up against a wall...

Shawn Michaels.

You stopped.

He grinned, pushing himself off the wall and approaching you.

"Well, well," he said, still watching you. "Ain’t you just a sweet little thing?"

You looked around. Was he talking to you?

You didn’t know what to do. Your heart was racing, your face burning, and Shawn was still watching you, like he was waiting to see what you’d do next.

“You wanna drink, sweetheart?” His voice was smooth, teasing. “Or do you just like staring?”

Your throat went dry. The way he was looking at you made you feel exposed, like he could already tell you weren’t like the women who usually threw themselves at him.

The worst part was that the shyness? He liked it a lot.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” He reached out his hand, “I don’t bite,”

He was close. You could smell his cologne among the smell of the club. This was a very, very bad idea.

But you found yourself nodding, taking his hand very uncertainly much to his delight.

“That’s a girl...”

You looked towards your friends who were watching you hold his hand. Your best friend was grinning at you and mouthing something along the lines of Oh my god! Just talk to him!” as he turned and took you through the crowded club and to the bar. You were now seperated from your friends and now completely alone with Shawn Michaels who was buying you a drink. You didn’t really know what he was buying you but he said it was something to help you loosen up whatever that meant.

Huh.

“I...I’m not really sure what to say,” you admitted, looking at your glass.

Shawn chuckled, setting his own drink down on the bar. He turned to face you fully, leaning in just slightly but enough that you could feel your pulse in your ears. He smelt so good – leather, cologne and something that was so uniquely Shawn.

“You don’t gotta say anything,” He said, “I already like you the way that you are,”

Oh.

The way he was currently looking at you, like you were prey that he was circling, made your stomach flip. Too intense. Too knowing.

“I... don’t really do this,” You admitted, glancing away from him

“Do what?”

“Talk to guys like you.”

Shawn let out a low laugh, shaking his head like he found that adorable. “Guys like me, huh?”

You could feel the heat in your cheeks. “You know what I mean.”

He grinned, tilting his head. “Nah, sweetheart. I don’t.”

You fidgeted with your hands, “I mean...guys who are, you know, famous...and older...and...” You trailed off, not really sure how to finish your sentence.

Shawn was eating it up. Your nervousness lighting a fire in him that was hard to ignore.

“You can say it,” he teased, “You think I’m trouble,”

You nodded way too quickly, making him laugh again.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with a little trouble,” he murmured, reaching for his drink again. “Long as you know how to handle it.”

His eyes raked over you, taking in your nervous posture, the way you kept glancing away like you were afraid of getting caught. He loved it and you could tell. The innocence. The hesitation. It was exactly what made you different from the women who usually surrounded him.

And Shawn Michaels loved the idea of ruining good things.

“You’re nervous,” he observed, amused. “That’s cute.”

“What if I don’t want trouble?” you asked, trying to ignore the way that your heart was hammering but Shawn merely laughed.

“Then,” he began, “You shouldn’t be looking at me like that,”

You immediately looked away, which only made him laugh again.

“You’re adorable,” he said, leaning in slightly more, “Tell you what, how about you drink with me, hm? No harm in that, right?”

You took a sip of your drink. Your heart was pounding in your chest. You knew this was a bad idea. A bad idea. However, as you watched him watch you, you realised you didn’t want it to stop. Not yet. The drink in your hand was much heavier than it should have been. You didn’t drink often, maybe one or two but right now, sitting at the bar with him, you felt like it was a lifeline.

Shawn was completely relaxed though. Elbows rested on the bar with one knee turned towards you like he had all the time in the world to watch and enjoy you. His own drink was in his hand, because he was much more interested in watching you.

“You don’t drink much, do you?”

You shook your head, “Not really,”

Shawn grinned, “That’s cute...”

Cute. He kept calling you cute like a compulsion. Like he just couldn’t help himself.

“You don’t got to be all shy, sweetheart,” he coaxed, nudging his drink towards you, “Go on, loosen up a little bit,”

You glanced at him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to drink. It was that you were so hyper aware of who you were drinking with. He knew that, of course he did.

“C’mon,” Shawn encouraged, tilting his head, “Let’s have a little fun,”

You took another sip. The alcohol burned down and you scrunched your nose up. Of course, Shawn chuckled at this.

“That’s adorable,” He shook his head, taking a sip of your own drink.

Your face burned. “What?”

“You,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re just so… damn sweet.”

You looked away, embarrassed, but he wasn’t done with you yet.

“You’re not used to this, huh?” he teased, eyes gleaming.

“This?”

“Drinking’.” His smirk deepened. “Me.”

Your heart stopped and you wanted to throw yourself out of the window.

“See” Shawn grinned, “You get all shy when I say it out loud,”

“That...” You said, shaking your head despite your cheeks getting all flushed, “That’s not true!”

“Oh, but it is,” Shawn chuckled, leaning in some more, “But it’s real cute, baby,”

Baby.

You were so screwed.

Shawn watched you like a man completely entertained, like you were the most fascinating thing in the room. The bar felt warmer now. Maybe it was the alcohol settling in your stomach, or maybe it was the way Shawn Michaels was watching you, like he was enjoying every little nervous fidget, every shy glance away.

You took another sip, smaller this time, but Shawn still noticed.

“Atta girl,” he murmured, tilting his glass toward you before taking a slow drink of his own.

That damn smirk was still on his face. Like he had all the patience in the world to pull you into this little game of his.

You cleared your throat.

“So, you like drinking with random girls after shows,”

“Nah,” Shawn chuckled, swirling the liquor in his glass, “Nah. I like drinking with you,”

That was too smooth, too fucking smooth.

Shawn leaned in just a little bit closer, close enough that you caught the scene of his cologne, the warmth of him just inches away, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” You’re looking at me as if I said something real dangerous,”

Your drink was almost gone now, and you had no idea when that happened. Maybe it was because he made you so nervous you kept drinking just to do something with your hands.

And Shawn, being Shawn, noticed.

“You’re keepin’ up real good,” he said, eyes flickering to your glass. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Your pride flared at that. “I can handle my liquor just fine.”

Why did you say that? Because now he was laughing at you again like you had just said the funniest thing in the world that night, “Oh, baby. You’re just makin’ this too easy...”

“What does that mean?”

He took a slow sip, watching you over the rim of his glass like a cat playing with its food.

“I mean, I could sit here all night, just watching you get flustered but...” He began, “I think I’d rather see what you’re like when you relax,”

What does that even MEAN?

Shawn tilted his head, studying you. “What are you so nervous about, huh? It’s just a drink. Just a little fun.”

You hesitated. “I don’t know if I—”

“You do.” His voice was so sure, so confident. “You just don’t know if you should.”

He had you.

Your stomach twisted. You should leave.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you let him pour you another drink. Shawn smiled as you picked it up, watching the way your fingers curled around the glass. Like he had just won something.

“There you go,” he murmured, voice like silk. “Now, let’s see if you can really keep up.”

You swallowed hard. This was a mistake.

But you still took another sip. The room was buzzing, but all you could hear was him.

Shawn’s voice was in your head, curling around your thoughts, making you dizzy, or maybe that was the alcohol, sinking into your bloodstream faster than you were used to. You should stop. You should 100% stop and go back to your best friend who you were sure left you to drink with Shawn. You were beginning to sway.

But then Shawn leaned in, close enough that his breath ghosted against your skin, and rational thought disappeared.

“You’re getting real cute now,” he murmured, watching the way you swayed slightly in your seat. “Little flushed. Little shy. Think I like you like this.”

Your fingers curled against the bar top. “I’m....I don’t...”

Shawn chuckled, tipping his drink back before setting it down, his fingers idly tapping against the glass as he studied you. “You don’t what, sweetheart?”

Your breath caught. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“I don’t… usually drink this much.”

Shawn grinned. “Oh, I can tell.”

Heat flared in your face. He was enjoying this.

“You don’t gotta look so guilty,” he teased. “Ain’t nothing wrong with cutting’ loose every once in a while.”

His voice was so smooth, so easy, like he was talking about something completely harmless. But his eyes told a different story.

Shawn Michaels was looking at you like he wanted to eat you alive.

Your pulse kicked up, and you instinctively reached for your drink again, taking another slow sip just to steady yourself.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, voice dropping just slightly. “Get nice and relaxed for me.”

This was dangerous.

And you wanted more.

“I think—” You swallowed, heart pounding. “I think you like messing with me.”

Shawn laughed, slow and lazy. “You just now figuring that out?”

You stared at him, breath coming a little quicker now. You should walk away. You should say goodnight.

Instead, you leaned in.

You didn’t know what possessed you to do it. M aybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way he was looking at you, like he already knew how this night was gonna end.

Shawn noticed immediately.

“Oh, look at you,” he purred, tilting his head. “Finally gettin’ brave on me.”

You opened your mouth to deny it, but Shawn was already moving.

His hand brushed against your thigh—barely there, just enough to feel it.

You sucked in a sharp breath, but he didn’t move away. Didn’t let you go.

“You still nervous, sweetheart?” His voice was softer now, more intimate. Like it was just you and him in this bar.

Your heart hammered.

“I... Yeah...”

Shawn smirked. “That’s cute.”

His fingers ghosted higher, teasing, testing—watching to see if you’d stop him.

You didn’t.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, as he reached for your hand.

Your breath hitched when his fingers curled around yours, strong, sure, unshakable.

You had no idea how it happened—one second you were at the bar, the next, you were outside, pressed up against the cool metal of a sleek black car.

Shawn caged you in without even trying, one hand braced against the roof, his body just close enough to let you feel the heat radiating off him.

“You still with me, sweetheart?” His voice was slow, teasing, but his eyes, his eyes were hungry.

Your breath came a little too fast. “Y-yeah.”

Shawn chuckled, reaching for the door handle. “Good girl. Get in.”

The drive was a blur.

You could still feel the burn of liquor in your throat, the buzz in your limbs, the way your pulse pounded every time Shawn’s fingers brushed against your thigh, deliberate and slow, like he was reminding you exactly who was in control. By the time you reached the hotel, your heart was hammering. Shawn barely looked back as he led you through the lobby, like he’d done this a million times before. Maybe he had. You didn’t care.

His room was massice. A suite with a plus carpet, soft golden lighting and a bed that was so big it was almost ridiculous.

Then, that was when you felt him.

Shawn moved in behind you, slow and deliberate, his fingers brushing over your arm before sliding up your shoulder.

You swallowed hard.

“Yes...I am,”

Shawn made a low pleased sound, his breath ghosting over your neck. Your back was pressing against his chest, warm and solid.

“Cute...” he murmered, “You don’t have to be. You trust me, right?”

The question made your breath hitch as his hands slid down your arm. Slowly, rousing, waiting.

He could feel you trembling and that...was fucking hot to him.

“I think so,” you admitted.

“Good enough for me,”

That was when he turned you around and you barely had any time to think before he kissed you. It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was deep, slow and claiming. It was like from the moment he laid his eyes on you, he decided he had to make you his and there was no going back from here. Hot and demanding, like he had been waiting for this moment all night.

His hands were holding onto your hips, firm and possessive as he had you flush against him. The heat of him was overwhelming. Your fingers curled onto the soft fabric of his shirt, nails were digging slightly and he lowly growled. A low sound that gave you butterflies.

“Fuck...” his voice was heavy against your lips, “You taste so fucking sweet, baby,”

His words made your whole body burn.

You barely had a moment to think when his hands were on the move, sliding down the curve of your waist before gripping the backs of your thighs and then, you gasped as he lifted you off the floor.

“Sh-Shawn!”

“Shhh,” He whispered against your lips, effortlessly carrying you to the bed, “Don’t worry, I got you,”

The next thing you knew, you were on the mattress, sinking into the plush sheets as Shawn hovered over you, that damn smirk still playing on his lips.

“You’re real pretty, you know that?” His voice was low, rough, his fingers tracing the hem of your shirt. “Bet you’ve never had anyone tell you that the way you should.”

You sucked in a breath, your entire body thrumming.

Shawn’s fingers brushed higher, teasing your skin. “I can make you feel really good, baby.”

You swallowed hard. “I...I don’t know what to do.”

His lips ghosted over your jaw, down to your throat. “That’s the best part.”

He kissed you there, slow, open-mouthed, just to feel you shiver.

“You just let me take care of you,” he murmured, his voice dropping even lower. “Let me ruin you a little.”

Shawn pulled back just enough to see the way your lips parted, the way your body melted into his touch.

“Yeah,” he whispered, half-drunk on the sight of you. “That’s my good girl.” His hands slid under your shirt, slow and teasing as they trailed under your skin.

“Shawn...”

He hushed you with a slow drag of his lips against your throat, teasing, tasting, “Relax...let me take care of you,”

His hands roamed higher, pushing up your shirt inch by inch, exposing more of you to the cool air of the hotel room. He was taking his time, enjoying the way you squirmed under his touch, the way your breath caught.

“You’re enjoying this are you?” He murmured against your skin, his voice dripping with amusement, “You wanna be a good girl for me?”

You couldn’t even form words, especially when Shawn is pressing his fingers dangerously below your waistband.

“I think you do...” He slid his hand into your jeans, cupping over the front of your panties. A gasp left your lips, your hips instinctively twitching against his arm. This made Shawn groan feeling you were driving him insane right now. This made him kiss you again, hungrier, rougher as his fingers pressed against the growing head between your legs.

“So soft...so wet...You really were waiting for me to touch you, weren’t you,”

Your cheeks burned, mortified by how easily he was making you come undone. Before you could reply, he pushed your jeans down, along with your panties and before you could even process what was going on, he was on his knees between your legs. The sight alone made you feel dizzy. Then, his mouth was on you. Your back arched off the bed as his tongue traced slow, deliberate circles over your clit, taking his time, savoring every little sound you made. He hummed against you, the vibration sending a shockwave of pleasure up your spine.

His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you in place as he devoured you, flicking his tongue in just the right way before pulling back slightly to smirk up at you.

“You taste so fuckin’ sweet, baby.” His voice was gravelly, wrecked. “Bet you’ve never had anyone eat you like this before.”

You could barely breathe, let alone answer.

Shawn didn’t wait.

He dipped his head again, this time sucking your clit into his mouth, and you cried out, hands tangling in his hair, desperate, needing something to hold onto. He moaned against you, clearly loving every second of this, his tongue lapping you up like he was starving for it.

And then, one of his fingers slid inside you. Your whole body jerked, but Shawn’s grip held you steady as he slowly pumped his finger in and out, stretching you, teasing you open.

“Shit, baby,” he groaned, his lips slick against your skin. “So fuckin’ tight.”

He added a second finger, curling them just right, hitting a spot that made your vision go white.

“Shawn, oh my God-”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he rasped, his pace quickening, his mouth working you over like he was determined to make you fall apart. “Give it to me.”

And when he sucked on your clit again, everything snapped.

Your orgasm hit you like a train, your body arching, shaking, a loud, desperate moan spilling from your lips as Shawn groaned against you, his grip tightening like he was holding on for the ride.

“You’re looking so fucking pretty like this...” He looked like he had been getting drunk off of the taste of your pussy. Your body was flushed but you knew that Shawn wasn’t done with you... because when he got up on the balls of his feed, you saw the bulge straining in his jeans.

When he saw you staring, his smirk turned wicked.

“Don’t worry baby,” he said, beginning to undo his belt slowly, teasing you as your eyes never left his crotch, “We’re just getting started...”

You knew what was coming but even when he pushed his jeans and boxers down enough, your mouth went dry.

He was big.

Thick, flushed and rock hard, standing against his stomach with beads of precum already glistening from the tip. He saw the way your eyes widened, and god, he looked like he was having the time of his life.

“Ain’t so nervous now, huh?” He teased, stroking himself lazily but you couldn’t look away even if you wanted to and he noticed.

“You want to touch it, sweetheart?”

You swallowed hard and nodded, “I don’t know how...” but regardless of your words, you reached toward, and his hand reached out to guide yours. Your fingers curled around his length, and his breath hitched, his hips giving a tiny involuntary jerk at the contact.

“Fuck, baby.” His voice dropped, rough and wrecked. “That’s it.”

You hesitated at first, your strokes shy, uncertain. His head tipped back slightly, jaw clenched as his hand covered yours to set the rhythm.

“Just like that...” he groaned, hips rolling into your touch. The sounds he were making were low, desperate and needy, sending pools of head between your thighs all over again.

However, Shawn had decided that he had enough and with one swift motion, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you away and pinned you to the bed, hovering over you.

“Are you ready for me?”

It was hard to think of the answer when you felt the tip of his cock sliding against your soaked folds, teasing you and coating himself in your wetness.

You didn’t need to answer. All you did was lift your hips instinctively. So, he pushed inside. You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he stretched you open, inch by inch, filling you completely.

“Shhh, sweetheart,” he cooed, his voice shaking with restraint. “I got you.”

His lips brushed your jaw, your throat, kissing you through the burn, through the overwhelming sensation of being so full of him.

When he was fully seated inside you, he stilled, sucking in a sharp breath. You couldn’t think of anything. All you could focus on was how good Shawn felt inside of you. How much you enjoyed the feeling of him stretching you out.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice raspy. “So fuckin’ tight.”

You whimpered, your walls fluttering around him.

“Oh, baby. You’re gonna ruin me.”

And then he started moving.

Slow at first, deep, deliberate thrusts, making sure you felt every inch of him.

You cried out, hands clutching at his back, overwhelmed by the way he stretched and filled you so perfectly. Your nails were digging into his shoulders which made him groan as his pace began to quicken as one hand was at one side of your head and the other one was holding your hips in place.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised, voice thick with lust and possession. “Take me. Just like that.”

He was relentless now driving into you harder, faster, deeper, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Every thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, every roll of his hips hitting you in just the right spot. That familiar spot that made you see stars

“Sh-Shawn...please!”

“I know, sweetheart,” he groaned, his hand slipping between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit.

He rubbed tight perfect circles that matched his thrusts as his thrusts got rougher and harder, slamming into your sweet spot.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” he said, voice against your lips as raspy as sin, “Wanna feel my good girl cum on my cock...”

He slammed himself into you just right with his fingers pressing down and then it happened. Your second orgasm crashed over you as your body clenching, trembling and shaking as the pleasure was all consuming. Shawn cursed, likely feeling your cunt clench around him, buried his face against your neck as his face became erratic and desperate.

“Fuck baby...” he groaned, his cock twitching deep inside you, “Gonna fill your sweet pussy up...”

And then it happened. With a deep, guttural moan, spilling himself entirely inside of you. You could feel him fill you up making your eyes flutter delightfully. The only sound left in the room was the heavy panting of two bodies completely wrecked.

Shawn didn’t pull away immediately.

He stayed there, still inside you, pressing lazy kisses against your damp skin.

“Damn,” he finally muttered, voice hoarse, satisfied.

You couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. And Shawn? Well, he just smirked against your throat.

“Told you a little trouble wouldn’t hurt.”

#i think this one is gotta be one of my faves #i hope whoever requested this is having a good day because i loved this prompt a lot #wwe #wwe fanfiction #wwf #90s wrestling #wwe imagine #wwe x oc #wwe x reader #wwf fanfiction #90s wrestling fanfiction #shawn michaels #shawn michaels x reader

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