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illbegottenfaith · 2 days ago

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stutter (a puzzle pieces by saint motel inspired fic)

something about you and your features reawakens theo's stutter (theo nott x reader)

a/n - LOVE how I usually naturally write in British English (for the most part) but the title of this fic is apparently the American English variant?? sorry but stammar just doesn't have the same sound as stutter and it rlly messes with the flow of my sentences lmao

tropes/warnings - fluff, theo has a stutter, tw alcohol, slightlyy mean reader? very mild tho lmao

word count - 3.2k

taglist - @allie-sturns @hzdhrtss @friedfreyfries @bushnellswife @rose-of-the-grave @thaliashifts @pariahsparadise @babene-e @fratbrochrisgf

Theo’s stutter had never been bad exactly - just bad enough to be noticed. Bad enough to make him hesitate before speaking, bad enough to make his father sigh whenever he tripped over a word at the dinner table.

"Think before you speak," his father would say, voice clipped, disapproving. "There's no point in opening your mouth if you don't know what you're going to say."

As if Theo didn’t already try.

So he adapted. He learned to pick his words carefully, to stay quiet unless absolutely necessary, to keep his voice even and deliberate. The less he spoke, the less he had to risk tripping over his own tongue. He stopped rushing and started living his life at a careful, highly controlled pace.

Over time, with extensive help from the best speech therapists his father could find, he grew out of his stutter. By the time he was old enough to be surrounded by classmates who would’ve torn him apart for it, it was already buried beneath layers of indifference. He built himself a reputation on cool control - on quiet, dry wit and the ability to cut someone down with a single unimpressed look. He spoke when he wanted to, not when people expected him to, and that was enough to keep it from ever being a problem.

Until you.

Because for some infuriating reason, with you, it found a way to slip through the cracks.

You and Theo were like two puzzle pieces that never quite fit right.

You didn’t hate each other - not really - but it seemed like a stretch to call yourselves friends. Try as you might, your personalities seemed fundamentally disconnected. He had little patience for your sense of humour, or lack thereof in his opinion. On the bad days, you had a snarky quip ready for even his most innocent comments. It was the most maddening thing for your friends - just as seemed that the two of you had finally learned to get along, Theo would take the mickey out of you, or you would turn your nose up at his boorish antics, and the cycle would repeat.

Unfortunately (or fortunately), all of that changed two weeks ago. It had happened on a brisk Wednesday night. His dorm was fresh out of bottled water and it was too late and too cold to sneak down to the Kitchens to get some. Mattheo was keeping everyone up fretting about what-if-someone-gets-extra-thirsty-in-the-middle-of-the-night-then-what and no one could get him to shut up. Naturally, Theo had been rather unceremoniously evicted from his cosy, dry bed to fetch water from the girls’ dormitory, after a unanimous (and unfair) vote.

So there he had stood outside the girls’ dormitory, shivering, waiting for one of your friends to bring out some water. He had glared at the distorted view of the moon through the common room walls, fuming about how it already was the middle of the night and none of his roommates seemed the least bit thirsty, not that Mattheo would listen to reason.

Finally, the door had swung open, and out of the shadows peered your wan, tired face.

Maybe it was something in the way your lips twisted in displeasure as your droopy eyes struggled to stay open. For some odd, inexplicable reason, he felt a pang of regret over having woken you.

If you were slightly more awake, you might have noticed the glazed look in his eyes. But as it were, all you had done was shove a small jug into his lax hands, manually curling his fingers around the handle when his grip refused to tighten. Of course, you and your roommates were too environmentally conscious to be entertaining single-use plastic.

“Hold still,” you had muttered as you tipped your room’s jug into the smaller one, filling it up. In the pale moonlight, it had been as though he was seeing you in a completely different light for the first time, both figuratively and otherwise. You hair looked unbearably soft from the way it cascaded down your shoulders. Almost as soft as your pillowy lips, which were now parting to release a sigh. And did your skin always smell this sweet, he wondered, as you stepped closer?

“You want a cookie?” you had asked waspishly when he had kept staring at you once his jug was full. That had snapped him out of his trance. After bidding you a hasty, clipped goodnight, he had crept back down to the boy’s dormitories, head reeling, heart thudding. Before finally nodding off in the wee hours of the morning, he had put the whole thing down to sleep deprivation.

But when you looked just as adorable in your 9 am Charms lesson the next day, bags under your eyes as you poorly stifled your yawns, he knew he was well and truly fucked.

That had been two weeks ago. Now, he’d be hard pressed to muster up any real sort of annoyance over the reactions you elicited from him, knowingly or otherwise.

You were all in the Great Hall, having breakfast. Your friends were talking about some book they had read recently. Mattheo and Draco were having an arm wrestling match right over their eggs. Enzo was yammering in Theo’s ear, not that he was listening. Theo had long since learned to tune out Enzo’s chatter until lunch, when he was sufficiently awake to actually process it.

No, what he was doing was watching you - watching the way you chewed on your bottom lip instead of your breakfast, a faint crease between your eyebrows as your eyes flitted across the parchment. He cast his eyes around the table listlessly, desperately wishing for a change in topic, preferably one that had to do with you.

His prayers were soon answered. Ivy turned away from her conversation to look at you.

“How’s the essay coming along, Y/N?”

You finally peeled your eyes away from the essay you were proofreading, sliding your gaze disinterestedly to Theo and the rest of your friends. He watched your sleepy, downturned eyes momentarily rest on his, a familiar electric jolt twinging in his chest. There was no denying it - what had previously seemed uninteresting or unimaginative was now hopelessly irresistible to him.

You scowled, flipping back to the first page. “Terrible. Awful. I don’t know what possessed McGonagall to let me take N.E.W.T level Transfiguration.”

Because you’re brilliant at it, Theo wanted to say, just like how you’re brilliant at everything else.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Ivy said reasonably as you haphazardly started gathering your things.

“It is, it really is. Even worse, my guinea pig escaped so now everyone has something to practice on except me.”

“I can be your Guinea pig,” Theo murmured. Mattheo gave him a hard shove in the shoulder blade.

“What?” You distractedly pushed a lock of hair out of your face.

He grimaced, a throbbing pain now settling in his upper back. “I said,” he forced out, “serves you right. Losing your guinea pig.”

You rolled your eyes. “Charming as ever, Nott.”

You hurriedly placed a kiss on Ivy’s cheek, glowering at Theo as you walked off. Just as he opened his mouth to ask (yell) where his kiss was, Mattheo shoved a bun into his mouth.

"Real subtle, mate," he said sarcastically.

Theo shot him a glare, but the delicate flush dusting his face betrayed him. "Shut up."

Mattheo only smirked, taking a bite of his own toast. "Whatever you say."

Some nights, trouble had a face. Tonight, it was yours.

He saw you before you saw him - tucked inside an alcove at the far end of the corridor, bathed in the flickering glow of a lone torch. It was the late kind of hour when nothing good was bound to happen. A half-empty bottle of firewhiskey dangled loosely from your fingers, the deep amber liquid catching the dim light as you swirled it absentmindedly.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen you like this - pushing limits just for the sake of it. It wasn't immediately apparent, but anyone who paid close enough attention would see you had a habit of toeing the line between reckless and untouchable.

He should have walked away. Should’ve let you self-destruct in peace.

But Theo was never that smart when it came to you.

"You’re not exactly being subtle," he said, stepping out of the shadows.

You didn’t jump, didn’t startle. Instead, you turned to face him with a slow, deliberate ease, like you’d been expecting him all along.

"Wasn’t trying to be."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Could’ve fooled me."

You smirked, raising the bottle in a lazy toast before taking another sip.

"What, you gonna tell on me?"

Theo scoffed. "If I wanted to get you in trouble, you'd know."

"Mm. So you’re just here to nag, then?"

"Not nagging," Theo said. "Just pointing out that if you’re going to break the rules, you should at least be smart about it."

You hummed, swaying the bottle between your fingers, humming poorly. You were definitely well past tipsy. "Smart’s overrated."

"Yeah? So’s liver failure."

That made you laugh, short and sharp, like you hadn’t expected him to be funny.

He shouldn’t have cared about that. Shouldn’t have cared that his words - his stupid, judgemental, throwaway words - had gotten a laugh out of you.

But he did. And that was the problem.

You studied him for a moment before holding out the bottle. "Want some?"

He looked at it disdainfully. "Generous."

"Hardly," you said. "Figured it might loosen you up a bit. You’re wound tight, Nott."

Theo exhaled, crossing his arms. He knew all about being tightly wound when it came to you. "Right. Because getting pissed in a dark corridor is the key to inner peace."

"You should try it sometime."

"Hard pass."

You shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Then, just to be a menace, you took another slow swill, letting your lips linger at the rim of the bottle before licking a stray drop off the corner of your mouth.

Theo didn’t react. Wouldn’t react. You weren’t doing anything special. Just drinking. Just looking at him with that same lazy amusement, like you had him all figured out.

And maybe you did. Maybe that was what rattled him.

"You’re - " He started, but his tongue tripped over the word, catching slightly before he forced it out. "You’re d-drunk."

Your drooping eyes widened fractionally. Your lips parted in your efforts to concentrate as a slight frown creased your forehead, not all that different from the one at breakfast a few days ago,

Theo felt the heat crawl up his neck before he could stop it. His mind scrambled for damage control, but the way you were watching him - head tilted, intrigued, like you were piecing something together - made it worse.

"You good?" you asked, something teasing yet concerned in your tone.

Theo cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to regain control of his rogue tongue. "Obviously," he muttered, shifting his weight.

You let the silence stretch a beat too long before raising an eyebrow.

"You sure? ‘Cause for a second there, you almost sounded - "

"Drop it," he cut in, swiping the bottle from your hands before you could protest. He took a slow sip, letting the firewhiskey burn its way down, using it as an excuse to steady himself.

You watched him succumb to the buzz of the drink. "You’re changing the subject," you noted, smirking.

"Yeah?" He felt less wired, less sober. "You’re still an idiot for doing this in the open."

You watched him lean against the wall opposite yours, eyes gleaming in the dim alcove. You let him have that one. But just as he thought you were letting it go, your gaze flicked up, sharp and knowing.

"Don’t act like you’re any better," you mused.

Theo frowned. "What?"

You nodded toward his pocket, where a cigarette pack was sticking out slightly. "Don’t you go through, like, three packs a day?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line. You had him there. "That’s not the same."

You widened your eyes mockingly. "No, you’re right. I might get liver failure in thirty years. You’re aiming for lung failure by, what - next week?"

Theo clicked his tongue, tucking the pack deeper into his pocket. "Cute."

"Not as cute as you stuttering over your words a minute ago."

Theo groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I hate you."

"Sure you do," you murmured, grinning as you took back the firewhiskey.

The Slytherin common room was empty when you both stepped inside, drenched from head to toe. The fire crackled in the hearth, but the warmth did nothing to dry the water you trailed in as you stalked toward it.

Theo watched you try to wring out your sleeves with an air of great suffering, muttering something about "bloody weather conspiracies" under your breath as you peeled off some of your outer layers.

"This is all your fault," you grumbled.

Theo exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his wet hair. "Yeah? How’s that?"

"You control everything else," you shot back, flicking a few stray drops of water at him. "Figured you had a deal with the bloody sky, too."

He smirked. "Don't give me ideas."

You rolled your eyes, crouching slightly to warm your frozen hands by the fire. Your clothes clung to your frame, and Theo forced himself to look away before his thoughts could wander into dangerous territory. Instead, he shrugged off his soaked sweater and tossed it over the back of the nearest couch.

"Relax. You’ll live," he said idly.

"You better hope so," you threatened. "If I don’t, I’m haunting you forever."

Theo snorted, undoing the cuffs of his shirt.

"I don't think you have the attention span for that."

You shot him a look. "I'd find a way," you said darkly.

"Sure," he agreed sarcastically.

You huffed, standing up straight again.

"And here I was, thinking you actually liked me."

The words were meant to be teasing, flippant, meaningless. But something about them made his pulse stutter.

Maybe it was the way you said it, light and careless, like the idea was so ridiculous it wasn’t even worth entertaining. Maybe it was the way the firelight flickered against your golden skin. Maybe it was the way a stray droplet trickled down your throat, inch by agonising inch, before disappearing beneath the collar of your shirt.

Maybe it was the fact that he did actually like you.

Theo didn’t know what made him say it - either the warmth from the fire or the cold still clinging to his skin or the fact that he could feel the exhaustion of restraint pressing against his ribs. But before he could stop himself, he was opening his mouth, lips forming words he had barely formulated.

"You look - " he started, then faltered.

Shit.

His tongue tripped, his brain suddenly too slow to catch up. He could feel the syllable stuck in his throat, unable to escape, the word stuttering into nothing.

"Y-you l - l -"

Silence.

"Oh, my god," you murmured, slow and smug, realisation dawning on your face.

Theo exhaled sharply, his stomach twisting as he tried to force his expression into something impassive, something cool, something...unaffected. In short, he tried attempting what was an impossible feat when your very features were enough to leave him dizzy.

A wicked smile unfurled across your face. He wasn’t getting out of this alive, was he?

"Do you not know how to talk?" you demanded, eyes glittering with suppressed mirth. "Is this your first day on planet Earth?"

Theo clenched his jaw, crossing his arms in a futile attempt to feign indifference. "Shut up."

You refused to let up. "No, really. What was that? You looked - what? What do I look like, Theo? Enlighten me."

He forced himself to roll his eyes as his fingers curled into his sleeves. "You’re insufferable."

"J-j-j-j - " You stuttered mockingly, eyes alight with mischief. "What are you, an idiot? Does your tongue need rewiring?"

Theo should’ve turned away, should’ve thrown himself onto the couch and forced himself to think about literally anything else. But he couldn’t help it.

He watched you - watched the way you grinned to yourself, watched the way your fingers twisted in the fabric of your damp clothes, watched the way you were so completely and utterly oblivious to the way you made his mind unravel.

It wasn’t just attraction. It wasn’t just the heat in his chest or the feeling in his bones or the fact that his name sounded so damn good dripping off your honeyed lips while you teased him.

It was everything.

It was the way you filled every empty space like you belonged there, like you’d always belonged there. It was the way your laughter lived in his head rent-free, the way you made even the most infuriating drivel you spouted feel like something he couldn't bear to go without. It was the fact that no matter how much you poked and prodded, no matter how ruthlessly or relentlessly you mocked him - he still wanted you. Desperately.

He should be embarrassed. The Theo of a few years ago would have been - would’ve burned with the humiliation, would’ve clenched his fists at the reminder of all the times he’d stood in front of his father, struggling to string together a coherent sentence under the weight of that unimpressed gaze.

But you were different. He could hear it in your voice, buried beneath the teasing - the unmistakable warmth, the absolute delight you took in making fun of him. Not because you wanted to humiliate him, but because it amused you. It endeared him to you. Because you liked getting under his skin.

And, Merlin help him, he liked that you liked it.

"Go on," you continued mockingly, roughly drying your hair with a towel, still oblivious to Theo watching you like you hung the stars and moon. "Careful with the big words, now."

Theo just stood there, staring at you, utterly gone. He wasn’t even trying to school his expression anymore.

When you finally looked up from drying yourself, your teasing faltered ever so slightly at the look in his eyes.

You blinked. “What?”

Theo shook his head, leaning against the wall thoughtfully.

“Nothing.”

You stilled. Because for the first time, you actually noticed. Theo wasn’t scowling. He wasn’t enduring your teasing with quiet exasperation.

He was watching you with something softer - something warmer, something dangerously close to adoration. It lingered in the lines of his face, in the almost-smile playing at his lips, in the flicker of fondness he couldn’t quite suppress fast enough before your eyes met his.

You stared back, speechless. Theo swallowed, tearing his gaze away, turning sharply as if shaking himself out of it.

"You should dry off before you actually get sick," he muttered, forcing his voice into something steady.

You stared at him for half a second longer, something unreadable in your expression.

"Right," you finally said, clearing your throat.

Neither of you acknowledged the moment for what it was. But the resurgence of Theo's stutter remained a secret kept only between the two of you.

#theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff

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lolitalovess · 19 hours ago

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count dykeula cait x reader headcannons

warnings: lesbians, smut, vampires, all the 3 best things in one

vamp cait who always clasps her hand around yours to pull you through the long hallways of the manor and out the main doors to the back garden to use you when she needs time away from the high society dwellers that accompany her parents balls and soriées. she's always kissing you the moment you're away from lingering gazes without fail, revelling with the way you have to tilt your head all the way back to even kiss her back.

vamp cait who always calls you both a good girl and a whore when you're flirting with your corset undone and letting her have her way with you on her balcony and in the garden.

vamp cait who met you in 1781 in the the royal vauxhall gardens. the memory alone always had her head filled with an undeniable feeling of passion - from the way you had talked and flirted, touched each other and kissed during that moon lit, desire filled night from over a hundred years ago, it was her most dearest memory she had buried in her cold, unbeating heart, and she was sure it was going to remain as that throughout her eternal years.

vamp cait who's both a very possessive woman and a creature of peril. she could only ever find herself associated with love and carnal around you, despite it going exactly against her natural morals.

vamp cait who likes to kiss you slowly when you have time, holding you close by keeping her hands on your ass or fiddling with the ties and laces of your corset. constantly denies the fact that she moans into your mouth when you lightly scrap your nails against the smooth, porcelain skin of her arms, especially when the only form of light being the moon shining through her window and the street lamps from below.

vamp cait who likes to say that she ruined you after you met her, especially if she's turned you.

vamp cait who loves to fuck with clothes still on, always likes to have you lay pretty on her bed with the skirt of your dress hiked up with your thighs spread for her, or your pants pulled down enough for her to eat you out. (did straps exist in the seventeen and eighteen hundreds?? we can just pretend)

vamp cait who can and will take it from the back. depends on if you're into her being in a sub position with her still in charge gets you going or if you like being in charge of her, she can do both with (almost) no complaints. is sometimes a brat when you're in charge because she's so used to the opposite and you just have to accept it because she loves it when you slap her ass or pinch her nipples in attempt to put her in her place.

vamp cait who bites your skin at any chance she gets, doesn't matter if she's trying to feed from you or not.

vamp cait who gets you a matching ring to hers that protects you from the sun if you're a vampire aswell (totally not taking this from tvd). feel like hers would be a plain silver band with sapphires or pearls? maybe both.

vamp cait who likes when you wear her cape. sometimes she wraps it around the both of you when you're close together to keep you close, pulling you in for a kiss while she does so, sometimes she makes you wear it when you complain that you're cold. it lowkey looks goofy as but it smells like her so it's fine.

modern vamp cait who'd love you like jane does john from mr and mrs smith?? would call you baby and try to kill you at the same time ♡

yes this is very lightly inspired by carmilla. yes this is multiple days late. yes i am experiencing the worst writers block. yes i'm sorry and i hate this

taglist: @korn-dawg @h0neymiel @thatprettypage @blackdykegirlblogger @mars4hellokitty @marieeeluvsyou @absfemme @arahiraaai @fallinqstarrs @pariiissssssss @dean-what @certifiedwomenkisser @prettyyyy-girl @earlgreyteatearstains @zombieeepup @fathericravedeath @xoxo-sincerely-me @beatingsweet @rishofkf @capedyke

#arcane #caitlyn kiramman x reader #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn x you #caitlyn x reader #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn x reader arcane #caitlyn kiramman x you #vampire caitlyn #vampire caitlyn x reader #vampire cait ily #count dykeula #shes so hot #need her kids #its not funny chat i need her so bad #cait kiramman #♡

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jaellyfishh · 2 days ago

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The Corner Where We Met · [Part 1]

age: Azzi - 26 y/o, Paige - 27 y/o

trope: art teacher!azzi x PE teacher!paige (slightly inspired by Abbott Elementary)

content: fluff

dc: some grammar mistakes, i use australian english, i know little about the american school system, maybe slow updates if i’m in a slump, i’d love feedback (i’m new to writing)

word count: 5.1K

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

“Ms. Fudd, can you show me how to shade my circle?” A quaint voice from the corner table caught Azzi’s attention while she had been weaving around her classroom observing her students’ drawing.

“Of course, my love. Here”

It was like any other Monday morning for Azzi Fudd at Moore Public High, a combined middle and high school institution in Storrs, Connecticut, where she had been teaching middle school art for four years since she was just 22 years old. Being the first week off of summer break, today’s art lesson mainly focused on the theories of Light and Shadow.

The lesson plan that she had curated this academic year was no different to previous years, however she did want to focus on the foundational elements of drawing within the first month. From the outcomes throughout the trials and errors of teaching since her first year at the school, Fudd realised the pattern of her students struggling during the mid-semester mark up until their final art project. She figured allowing time for them to have a good grip of the basics would ease her students into the forthcoming lessons, making art more familiar, more friendly.

Ring, ring, ring.

Finally, lunch time, Azzi thought.

“Before you leave, don’t forget your homework for tomorrow, alright guys? Y’all drew amazing, thank you for today!” Azzi half-yelled as her students made their way through the door, a disorganised chorus of ‘Thank you, Ms. Fudd’ echoing throughout the classroom.

The young curly haired woman smiled as she watched the last student leave the class. With a small pile of her files and books balanced on one arm, she switched the room lights off before heading down the corridor to the teacher’s lounge for lunch.

A small crowd of teachers came into sight after Azzi had swung the door open. As she made a quick beeline towards the fridge, a loud shuffling of feet approached her.

“Aye, Fuddie Bun! How’s first day treatin’ ya?” A boisterous voice startled Azzi.

“Geez, KK. One day, you’re gonna give me a heart attack!” Azzi yelled-whispered at her coworker, Kamorea ‘KK’ Arnold - a childhood nickname only her closest of colleagues can call her, and by closest of colleagues she means just the one Azzi Fudd.

KK started her rookie year as their high school math teacher a year after Azzi was employed. They had become close friends early on, I mean, it was hard to avoid Arnold in general as she was ever the more extroverted and very personable in a loud way, but not that Azzi minded anyways. Despite their contrasting personalities, they found comfort in each other over the few years, ranting it out and gossiping in the break room after a long school day or winding down at each other’s places over the weekend.

“Everyone’s too serious this morning, girl. My classroom is way more entertaining than this!”

“KK, it’s Monday, whaddya expect?”

After sharing brief exchanges with their colleagues nearby, the pair took their lunch box of homemade food from the microwave and sat in the corner of the lounge.

“Hey, did you hear they hired a new PE coach? I heard she’s pretty good,” KK mumbled as she munched on her wrap.

“Oh my god, really? It’s the fourth one since I’ve been here. I bet she’ll be gone by next month. Our kids can be ruthless sometimes,” Azzi reckoned while absentmindedly picking on the lettuce of her caesar salad.

“For real! But, nah, I saw her talking to Big G-“

“Principal Auriemma,” Azzi corrected.

“To Principal Big G Auriemma,” KK ignored teasingly, “at his office. And she sounds like she stands on business! I know she’ll put our kids in place”.

“Cool… let’s bet on it,” Azzi said smoothly.

“Girl, what?”

Azzi chuckled as she shook her head. “You heard me…you know how I tell you my life seems kinda boring right now and I kinda wanna spice things up this year?” Fudd half-joked referring to a conversation they would occasionally have outside of school, “So, let’s bet on it. She’ll be gone by next month”.

“Babe, when I said I wanted you to spice up your life I meant going on dates, having one-night stands…this is seriously not your take on spicing things up, is it?” KK looked at her friend in disbelief.

“Hey, not too loud!” Azzi hissed, “You shouldn’t always take my words seriously, dude. Now, c’mon, what are we laying on the table?”

“Alright, alright,” holding back from making any further comments on a Monday afternoon, KK pondered. “Hmm, how about winner gets to pick a hideous outfit for the loser to wear on a school day?”

“Oh…hell no!”

“I knew this’d piss you off, Li’l Miss Fashionista,” KK cooed as she poked on Azzi’s arm annoyingly. “What happened to spicing things up?”

“Fine, fine! Just make sure it’s appropriate- OW!” Azzi winced at the sudden slap on her arm.

“Defamation of my character! Of course it’ll be appropriate, what do you take me for?” KK protested.

Azzi rolled her eyes playfully before sticking her tongue out.

“Oh and Azzi, I forgot to mention,” a small grin etched on KK’s lips, “she’s totally your type”.

“I- what?”

“You’ll see it when you see it. Just…don’t flirt the way you do at the clurb” KK voice animatedly while leaning forward, staring at Azzi with mischievous intent.

The older girl scoffed while leaning back on her chair. “I flirt just fine, Kamorea. I’m a little rusty, but I still got it”.

“Right, right. She’ll be the judge of that”

“What are you talking about, honestly?“ Azzi surrendered trying to figure out her friend’s intention, but Arnold remained mysterious.

“Can I make our bet more fun, then? You can pick my school attire for a whole week if I bet you won’t end up sleeping with a faculty member before the end of next month.”

Fudd’s mouth was left agape. “Enticing, and nothing in return? The stakes are high for this one. Is it that serious for you, KK?”

“I trust in my gut,” KK mused, arms folded.

“Well, tell your gut that it’s wrong. Besides, I don’t shit where I eat, my four years being here proves it”.

“That’s ‘cause there was nobody good looking enough here for you to fuck. It’s prime time now, baby,” KK rubbed her hands menacingly, much to Azzi’s disgust.

“Bro-“

Ring, ring, ring.

Fifth period rolled in and Azzi had just pardoned herself to use the toilet halfway through her class. As soon as she swerved and bent that corner right before the end of the hall to the toilet doors, her body collided abruptly with another. Azzi almost stumbled backwards in her position before a long arm swooped just around Azzi’s waist before any accidents were to happen.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Azzi apologised before lifting her head to look at her saviour.

Tall. Slicked back blonde. Blue eyes. All black sports wear.

Fudd’s knees buckled, slightly wobbling unsteady in her position again. The grip around her waist tightened.

“Hey, you good?” The blonde breathed, half smiling as the curly haired woman in front of her chuckled whilst shaking her head in embarrassment. The unfamiliar lady took her arms off of Fudd as soon as she was able to stand upright on her own, all the while studying her movements - her curiosity piqued.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I should’ve slowed down before turning the corner,” Azzi exhaled deeply as her brown eyes stayed hypnotised in the blue ones in front of her. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before”.

Paige chuckled this time with a slight smirk, her hand sliding the lanyard around her neck slightly towards Azzi. “Yeah, I’m the new PE teacher.”

The shorter girl’s cheeks grew warm as she quickly scanned the figure in front of her.

Yeah, KK wasn’t kidding, she thought.

“I’m Paige. Paige Bueckers,” she grinned before holding a hand out.

“I’m Azzi Fudd. I, uh, I teach art for our middle schoolers,” she smiled shyly before shaking her hand.

Paige raised her eyebrows. “The drawings on the board right at the entrance, they’re your kids’?” Azzi nodded proudly. “Well, they got a pretty darn good teacher. They’re beautiful”.

When Paige said the latter sentence while staring into the depths of Azzi’s soul, she couldn’t help but feel that was addressed to Fudd herself and not the drawings, but she immediately shook her thoughts away in denial.

“Why, thank you,” Azzi slowly blinked while flashing a charming smile. “How’re the kids treating you?”

“Well, they’re something else for sure,” Paige rubbed the back of her neck before letting out a breathy laugh. “It’s my first day, so I’m doing a trial run. They just gotta loosen up to me a li’l, it’s nothing I can’t handle. I know the kids wanna seem tough, but…they don’t know I’m the toughest one out here.”

Azzi nodded in amusement as her arms folded. She assumed Paige was going to say something more profound. “Is that so? Wow, so maybe KK was right about you”.

“Talking about me behind my back already? I can never stay away from people’s thoughts,” Paige exclaimed sarcastically, her true personality unraveling in front of Azzi, a type of confidence she’s never encountered before. Fudd was hooked, there was a certain charm to the blonde that Azzi couldn’t help but want to be trapped in.

“Please, don’t flatter yourself,” Azzi rolled her eyes playfully, “We just wanna see if you got what it takes to teach our kids at Moore. The teachers here gotta be gritty, smart…resilient”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart, I already got that covered. The more important question is,” Paige took a step closer. “Do the kids have what it takes to handle me?”

Fudd’s breath hitched at the sudden proximity. She’s got crazy eye contact, Azzi thought.

“Just don’t come begging me for help when it gets to it, yeah?” Azzi was able to get back, her head tilting to the side as she gently pushed the woman back.

“Not until you hear your kids complain about me all class before you beg me to stop them,” Paige was quickly retorted.

For a moment they just stood there giggling at what they thought was the most entertaining interaction they’ve had all morning.

“You’re an interesting one, Bueckers, I’ll give you that”

“Well, they hired me for a reason, didn’t they? Seems like it’s a pattern ‘round here,” Paige hummed triumphantly as she slid her hands into her pockets while tracing her eyes over Azzi’s face. It was an electric silence that surrounded them, a tension raising hairs on their skin as they stared at each other for a moment. Then Paige realised why Azzi was there in the first place.

“Hey, you probably need to go more than I wanna stay,” Paige interjected quickly before Azzi could register what she just said. “I’m gonna head back before they start running out the doors to escape,” Bueckers gave her a knowing nod before slowly moving past her towards the hallway.

“Uh, nice meeting you, Azzi Fudd. I’d- I’d love to see you around more often,” a slight smirked etched on Paige’s face as she turned around to face Fudd again.

“We’ll see about that. Just don’t think you can one-up me every time I see you” Fudd reflected the blonde’s smirk before pushing the bathroom door open. Paige couldn’t help but let out an incredulous chuckle before jogging back to the gym.

Dammit, I hate when KK’s right, Azzi’s thought ran.

—

“So, how hot was she? Tell me!” Caroline Ducharme, Azzi’s roommate and best friend, asked too inquisitively while shaking her friend’s arm.

“Car, careful, I’m cooking here!” Azzi scolded, her hands on the wok as she stirred some fried rice.

It was dinner at the Fudd-Ducharme apartment and the pair were catching up on their daily newsfeed. Being best friends of almost 12 years now, they did everything together, even managing to tick most of the boxes off of their childhood bucket list. One of it being to live together in their dream three-story mansion. And although their current accommodation was far from it, it was with the artistic creativity of Fudd and the financial literacy of Ducharme that they were able to conjure up a budget interior design, making their cold Connecticut apartment into a cozy, earthy home.

“This is so exciting! After months of pushing potential partners away, someone finally caught your attention. Sucks that it had to be at work, though,” Caroline rambled as she leaned on the kitchen island behind Azzi.

The curly-haired girl whipped her around unamused. “She’s not a potential partner. And I’m only stating the obvious - she’s objectively pretty. Even KK agrees”.

“Yeah, well KK isn’t attracted to her, you are”

“What makes you say that?”

“Babe, I’ve known you since we were in middle school. Besides, weren’t you just geeking earlier about how she had her arms around you like she was your knight in shining armour?” The taller girl argued back.

“You’re exaggerating, I never said that. I just said it was really thoughtful of her to do that, you know?” Azzi reasoned, but Caroline wasn’t buying it.

“Whatever you say, Azzi. I don’t giggle like a school girl about kind gestures like that. I mean, it’d be worse if she was tall, blonde with blue eyes and athletic, that’s for sure,” Ducharme shook her head.

And then Azzi froze. Almost too obviously.

“BITCH, YOU’RE COOKED!”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up-“

“I’m searching her socials. What was it? Paige Bueckers? How do you spell that-“ Caroline whipped out her phone before hurriedly running to the living room not too far from where they were. But it was not like Azzi had the energy to chase her anyways.

“Caroline Ducharme, I swear to God, you need to stop-“

“Found her!” Caroline interrupted as Azzi grew silent. Not that she’d want to admit, but Fudd herself was already curious. “Damn, she is hot”.

The curly haired woman groaned before Caroline approached her once again, shoving her phone to Azzi’s side, the brightness illuminating her face.

Paige’s instagram profile was public with almost 300 followers. Her bio had a red pin emoji with just the initials ‘MN’ next to it, perhaps what the pair assumed to be her hometown, Minnesota. Her profile was half empty with only 5 posts, the most recent being the only one with her face on it taken last July over the summer which Caroline had clicked on soon after.

She was gorgeously tanned. Her skin looked moist from the sunscreen as she wore a pastel purple bikini top paired with black basketball shorts, effortlessly making the fit look good on her body. She posed with a slight manspread on a blue striped beach chair, her sparse curly waves lifting perfectly with the wind.

As Caroline swiped on the next photo, it was a selfie on that same day with Paige wearing a bucket hat this time, her blue eyes gleaming as she bit her cheeks.

“Daaammn,” Caroline gushed, turning her head to face Azzi. She noticed her friend’s eyes glued stuck on her phone, scanning every inch of the picture. “Like what you see?”

The question brought Azzi back to reality, a begrudging tsk elicited from her.

“Take your phone away before I smack you,” the shorter friend mumbled, pulling her attention back to the wok.

“Or before you start gooning-“

“What are you, sixteen?”

Caroline couldn’t help but laugh at the angry state of her best friend. “What are you so upset about? If anything, I’d let her hit immediately.”

“Car, this is getting out of hand. You and KK both,” Azzi whined before switching the gas off and removing her apron. Caroline instinctively started pulling out her homemade avocado shake out the fridge, setting it down on their dinner table while Azzi poured the fried rice onto the place Ducharme had set on the kitchen island.

“Az, you know I’m teasing. But, seriously, why are you denying that she’s really fine and totally your type?”

As the pair took their plates to the dinner table, the curly haired woman sighed before taking her seat.

“It’s not that I’m denying it, I’m being respectful. I don’t know anything about her and I just… I don’t wanna get to know anyone right now,” Azzi confessed before taking a bite of the fried rice. Ducharme hummed.

“Aha, is this…is this possibly still about Des? Hasn’t it been almost two years already?”

“I dunno, I think it is. It was a four-year relationship, Car. She meant everything to me when I first moved here. And you know how I am in relationships. Fuck, I hate being the anxious-attachment type”

“I know you’re gonna hate me every time I say this, but as your pseudo-relationship counsellor hearing you vent to me over the years about Destiny, all I can say is she was a conniving ass bitch who didn’t realise you deserved someone worthier than her. So what did she do? She grew more insecure, projected that onto you and turned you into what you became in the relationship. But, you knew that and you knew I hated that girl from the get go. But I also knew you loved her more than my voice could even reach you. And, as your best friend, of course I stayed…because I was ready to catch you when you’d eventually fall,” Caroline sermonised, her hands caressing Fudd’s.

What was brilliant about the relationship of the two was how they both gave each other such unconditional, unwavering love and understanding throughout the decade of their friendship. They matched each other in mature introspection and calm confrontations, making their bond stronger over the years.

“Oh, Car,” Azzi chuckled, “You’re gonna make my fried rice salty from the tears about to fall from my face.”

“Oh, shut up,” the taller girl rolled her eyes as she sipped on her avocado shake. “Anyways, tell me more about Paige, please?”

Azzi stared at her friend in disbelief, shaking her head before she continued. “Alright, alright. Well, she’s confident. Like, really confident. It’s like she has this big head from being so certain and egotistical about herself, but…I never felt any malice in it, at all. If I were to assume, she probably does that to get the best out of people, you know?”

Caroline’s eyebrows couldn’t raise any higher than that. “Ooo la la, sounds like she has a little crush.”

“Please, Car, I spend half my day with middle schoolers not to come home to one,” Azzi groaned.

Her best friend smiled quietly. “It’s cute. Just…don’t be afraid to let things flow as they should”.

Azzi nodded when suddenly her roommate gripped her hand tightly. “And who cares if you’re gonna shit where you eat, I’m gonna call the plumber on you all day!”

“Yeah, you’re getting evicted tonight”

—

Tuesday morning came and the usual background noise at Moore Public High seeped through the gaps of Azzi’s car as she parked it. The familiar sounds became more apparent the moment she had opened her door. The low rumble of the school bus’ engine, the jittery chatter amongst the students, the cool autumn breeze whistling by and… loud morning greetings bellowing from the steps of the school’s main entrance?

“Derrick, don’t frown like that, put some pep up in your step!”

“Senara, love your hair! Lookin’ fresh!”

“What did you pack in here, Caleb? Geez Louise!”

Fudd stood dead on her tracks as she watched the new scene of her mundane morning unfold before her. It was a little too early for the taller woman’s enthusiastic positivity for Azzi’s liking, but she enjoyed it nonetheless. She also noticed her new coworker’s outfit for the day, simple yet fitting - All white socks and nikes, grey basketball shorts with a plain white tee and an unzipped pink wind breaker; Azzi’s favourite colour.

However, it didn’t take long before Azzi realised she herself wore pink today. Low white heels, bright pink slacks and a formal white button up. Well, isn’t that convenient, she thought.

Downing on the pink tumbler with her morning coffee on one hand like a shot of tequila, she braced herself, approaching the blonde who was busy ruffling the hairs of one of Azzi’s students.

“Not too much on Adrian’s hair, his dad works hard on it every morning,” the soft tone of a familiar voice caught Paige’s attention.

“You tell ‘em, Ms. Fudd!” The younger boy yelled before scurrying off into the building.

With raised eyebrows and a closed smile, Bueckers had her hands folded as she looked down at the younger woman who stood one step below her. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Ms. Fudd.”

“Hey, you greeted all the kids with something, don’t be boring now,” The curly haired colleague teased, her dimples peeking out as she looked up at Paige through her lashes.

“Hmmm,” The taller woman looked Azzi up and down, scanning her meticulously causing the younger woman to stagger faintly in her steps, a warmth growing on her cheeks.

“Was the pink intentional?” Paige smirked, leaning her head down. Azzi scoffed.

“I’ll have you know that pink is my favourite colour, so no”

“Noted,” Paige chuckled. “You look good in pink, Ms. Fudd”

The comment caught Azzi way off guard before she started coughing. Is this woman doing the triangle method on me right now? She questioned internally. The shorter lady knew all too well of Flirting 101 as she was a mere student of it herself. Of course, it doesn’t always pan out on a couple weekend nights at the queer club with KK and Caroline. But if not as the giver but as the recipient, she can tell if someone was trying techniques on her.

“Don’t try to think you’re getting on my good side today, Ms. Bueckers,” Azzi took one more step up, the pair now at eye level. “You don’t look too bad yourself…” Azzi spoke with a hushed tone, her eyes trailing down as she played with the hem of Paige’s pink wind breaker. “But this would look much better on me”.

She slowly lifted her eyes back to face Paige, who was now rendered speechless, her jaw tightly clenched trying to stifle a reaction in front of the kids. With a final smile, the curly haired woman walked right past her taller counterpart before who knows what could’ve escalated. Bueckers could only scoff before clearing her throat to resume her new morning routine.

Morning assembly at the gym was just the same as per usual, except for a few announcements including the introduction of Moore’s newest PE teacher, their trivia night fundraiser event and a reminder of the upcoming high school basketball try outs.

“Azzi Jazlyn Fudd, I saw that,” Arnold tapped on the older colleague as they made their way down the crowded hall to their respective classrooms.

“Saw what?” Fudd asked innocently.

“You flirting with the new PE teacher this morning. Now that was steamy,” KK pressed her 18+ jokes.

“Quit it, Arnold. Must you always make things sound like…that,” Azzi exasperated.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it, though. I see you wanna sabotage the bet bad”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you and I were just making jokes to pass time”

“Maybe. But, admit it, she does kinda look good today, don’t you think?” KK’s persistence would make anyone go mad.

“You want her instead, KK? Seems like it,” Azzi had reached her classroom door.

KK continued frolicking down the hall. “I’m good. I don’t wanna deal with the wrath of a jealous Fudd”

Azzi grunted loudly before entering her classroom with a smile.

—

The blaring sound of the final school bell rang across the building as the clock had struck 3pm. Azzi was just finishing up on grading the last student’s assignment at the teacher’s lounge before neatly shoving her files and papers into her bag.

She walked down the hallway, the building already emptying out, when she couldn’t help but notice a familiar tall figure making their way towards the hallway that turned left towards the gym. With curiosity, the curly haired woman’s actions moved quicker than her mind could think. And soon her legs took her to follow from behind at a distance.

What am I doing? She asked herself.

Right at the gymnasium door, Fudd peeked her head to see where the figure went when she was met with nothing but the vast emptiness of the spacious gym, except for the hideous amounts of balls, hula hoops, and multicoloured cones scattered across the venue.

With unknowing disappointment, Azzi was ready to turn back to the exit when a loud voice erupted from behind.

“Boo!”

“FUCK!”

Once again, Azzi had lost her footing before her legs gave way, not until a familiar arm wrapped graciously around her waist to stop her from falling backwards.

“You know, I’m beginning to think you draw these typa actions on purpose,” Paige laughed breathlessly before helping Azzi regain her balance.

A tinge of red spread throughout Azzi’s face as she dusted herself off. “Y-you shouldn’t scare people like that”.

“Well, I don’t condone stalking,” The blonde grinned as she stared accusingly at the nervous woman in front of her.

“W-who said anything about stalking? What if I happen to coincidentally walk in the same direction as you?”

Paige placed her hands on her hips. “To a dead end? Unless you came here to help me clean up, I don’t see any reason for you to walk all the way down here after school”.

The shorter girl in front of her lowered her head as it filled with a mixture of guilt, embarrassment, and regret. Her fingers started to fiddle with the strap of her brown leather bag slung on her shoulder as she tried to find her words.

Paige stood patiently, scanning her body language before smiling in empathy.

“You alright to help me put those things away? That is, if you still got some energy left in you,” Paige leaned slightly down to catch Azzi’s attention. The curly brunette hesitantly lifted her head up, the blue eyes in front of her piercing as she bit her inner cheeks.

As soon as she nodded, Paige exhaled in relief before reaching towards Azzi’s shoulder where her bag hung. In an instant, the blonde swung Azzi’s bag on her own shoulders as she lead the way into the gymnasium.

A couple minutes have gone by in awkward silence as the pair weaved around the gym collecting every trace of equipment Paige happened to conveniently use towards the end of the day. Regardless, she was quick with it, putting twice the amount away compared to Fudd. In Azzi’s defence, it wouldn’t be as tiring had she not worn low heels and tight slacks.

“Alright, I need to count this as an extracurricular,” Azzi finally blurted as she began to feel sweat forming.

Paige couldn’t help but laugh as she continued to run around in circles around her. She heard the younger woman mutter an ‘I’m tapping out’ before walking towards the low stage and propping herself to sit on the edge, her feet dangling while she caught her breath.

She only watched Paige dance around for several seconds before the gym had cleared of any mess.

“Took you long enough,” Azzi joked sarcastically as Bueckers approached her, slightly panting.

“Yeah, well, my helper tapped out before we even got to the fun part, so I was left to fend for myself,” she retorted before plopping herself right next to Azzi who chuckled. It was a comforting silence for a moment before Paige turned her head to face Azzi.

“So, you’re still not gonna tell me why you came all the way down here?” the corners of Paige’s lips slightly tugging as she takes in the woman sitting next to her.

Azzi sighed with her eyes closed. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“Depends on who I wanna get to know”

The wheels in Azzi’s head turned. Who cares if you’re gonna shit where you eat? Caroline’s voice rang through her head. But the curly brunette was fighting against it, her indecisive brain simultaneously computing a pros and cons list in a matter of milliseconds in her head.

“Then ask me something else,” Azzi slightly croaked, internally relieved at her deflection.

“You’re hard to please”

“Because you’re not asking the right questions”

Their quaint back-and-forth intrigued the blonde, her jaw shifting as she leaned back on her arms.

“Alright, Ms. Fudd. I’m intrigued. What’s your story? How do you endure years of cold ass Storrs, Connecticut?

“I wish I could tell you, but my hometown’s Virginia. We get chilly, but not Storrs chilly,” Azzi grinned, “Actually, I wanted live away from my parents. I moved out four years ago. We’re good, it’s just…I…well…there was someone…at the time”.

Azzi couldn’t lie her way out of this and now she wished she’d just answered Paige’s first question, her decision-making this time taking a dive as she opened Pandora’s box.

Paige’s eyebrows raised. “Ah, so you were in love?”

“Oh, woah, I wouldn’t say “in love”, just…teenage infatuation, I guess”

The blonde grew more curious. “Hmm, you said ‘at the time’? Not everything panned out the way you wanted, I’m assuming?”

Azzi chuckled. “Yeah, no. It wasn’t a pretty four years. But, I didn’t wanna back down. I loved art and teaching more and my best friend, Caroline, she helped me pick up the pieces. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t…resilient”.

“You say that word a lot, ‘resilient’. It’s nice,” Paige gave a tender smile.

“Thanks, I just needed a reminder, you know?”

The tension that once filled the air around them vanished as the pair slowly eased into each other’s comfort.

Azzi furrowed her brows lightheartedly. “Okay, now I’m curious”.

“Hmm?”

“Any reason you’ve invited yourself over to Connecticut?”

Paige smirked. “How’d you know I’m not from here itself?”

Azzi was taken aback. “I- well- A woman can assume-“

“An assumption could’ve started with a ‘You don’t look like you’re from here’ or a ‘Ever thought about leaving Connecticut?’. Ms. Fudd, the sheer confidence in your question can only make me assume you’ve been stalking me even outside of school premises. Perhaps, online?” Paige’s eyebrows raised, the grin on her face growing more obnoxious as the girl in front of her started becoming a flustered mess.

“I- you’re absolutely w-wrong about that,” Again, Azzi couldn’t tell a lie to save her life.

“Am I?” The blonde leaned forward from her position, her face relatively close, much to Azzi’s liking.

Before the curly brunette could get a word out, the blonde hopped down from the stage. “I’m gonna head out before the janitor complains. Thanks for the help, by the way, Ms. Fudd. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The playful grin remained on her face before she was out of Azzi’s sight, leaving the poor woman paralysed in shock.

I could just end everything right here, actually, Azzi catastrophised before carefully getting down from the stage.

#pazzi #pazzi fics #paige x azzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd

239 notes · View notes

zorosangell · 2 days ago

Note

Zoro x shanks daughter reader ??

Reader just likes to have his attention on her(cause he’s big and strong and sooo handsome) and Zoro is flustered by this charming, seductive, and HOT woman but at the same time she’s the daughter of a YONKO (so he’s a lil scared), reader just likes to laugh and tease really, they’re kinda like shanks and mihawk but zoro’s actually into it and well i will let your creativity do the rest if it inspires you, you can maybe even make it a lil spicy🤭 (bonus with shanks refusing to see his darling, precious daughter grow up haha)

Have a good day, love love love all your stories!!!!

⛥ﾟ・。 reading

synopsis: after plotting on zoro for the longest, you finally decide to make your move... the only question is what zoro's willing to risk.

cw: nsfw, fluffy fluff, comfort, heavily chel inspired reader, reader has magic (not really important tho), reader is BAD, reader is also real as hell, whiny-ish zoro ig (i love pathetic men), ZORO IS DOWN BAD, shanks's part made me laugh, this was so fun to write

a/n: started writing literally the moment i received this. awesome ask anon <3

"5566... 5567... 5568... 5569... 5570..."

Quietly, you sat sprawled in the rafters of the crow's nest, watching with awe and intrigue as Zoro swung the weight around with perfect control, as if it was a measly training sword.

His back muscles rippled and twitched with each minute movement, stretching and flexing to accommodate the weight's large size, the veins in his forearms and neck bulging with concentration.

Not to mention his grunts of effort, which sounded awfully similar to the grunts that starred in your daydreams.

And you knew for a fact not a single woman on the planet—save for maybe Nami—would blame you at all.

'I mean, look at him...'

The sight was delicious, his arms looking delectable enough to take a bite out of.

In fact—

"You gonna hide up there all day?" Zoro asked, ripping you from your thoughts, eyes not even bothering to look up to where he knew you were sitting. "Or are ya gonna come down sometime soon?"

With a dramatic sigh, you flicked your hand, a flourish of red magic undoing your invisibility and revealing yourself to the swordsman.

"Y'know, that haki of yours really takes all the fun out of sneaking around."

Lazily, you allowed yourself to roll backwards off the support beam, your magic effortlessly catching your body on a bed of swirling, red mist and slowly lowering you to the swordsman's level.

"Didn't need it," he huffed out, his swing in perfect sync. "You're predictable."

You shrugged, shifting to sit criss-crossed, resting your clasped hands in your lap.

"Eh, gettin' caught's half the fun, anyway," you smiled, teasingly. "If I were good at it, we wouldn't be having this lovely conversation."

"Oh, now it's half the fun?" he cracked a small smirk, amused by the sudden change.

You let out a small giggle, your magic mist swirling to flip you upside down, "What? You don't like talkin' to me?"

"I like training without distractions."

"Really? How distracting am I?"

A tinge of warmth settled on his cheeks, having been caught in your verbal trap, but he quickly shoved it away, focusing on the task at hand.

"Pesky, at best."

You nodded, biting back a cocky smirk.

He was lying through his teeth, obviously... but that was good.

That meant you were wearing him down.

"Oh, pesky, I see," you feigned innocence, swirling yourself back upright. "Well, we can't have that."

Turning around, you floated over to a far away corner, willing your mist to plop you down on the floor.

With a tired sigh, Zoro halted his movements, dropping the weight before raking a calloused hand through his hair.

"(y/n)... what are you doing?" he asked, crossing his large arms over his broad chest.

You swallowed back a swoon, instead making a book appear out of thin air, holding it up for him to see.

"Reading," you answered, smoothly, subtly batting your eyelashes. "Since I am so distracting, I'm gonna keep quiet, face the wall, and read."

"You..." Zoro stumbled slightly, "You really gotta do that here?"

"It's quiet," you shrugged as you flipped open the book to a random page, maintaining nonchalance as you turned to face the wall. "If you really want me to go that bad, Zo, I will."

Oh, no, no, no... he knew this game; you were doing that reverse psychiatry thing you always did.

He knew what he wanted, but you were wording what you wanted to sound like what he didn't want, and to defy you he'd want what he didn't want because you wanted it.

He didn't want that.

With a sigh, he picked up his weight once again, resuming his ten reps of 10,000.

Though... that was short-lived.

Despite being so far away, your arrangement sat you right in front of him, completely open for his eyes to explore.

And if he was being honest, he had never seen a singular person stretch, squirm, or adjust their hair so much in such a short amount of time.

Not that he was necessarily complaining.

You were known throughout the Grand Line for your jaw dropping looks, your beauty said to rival that of the Pirate Empress—though, in the swordsman's personal opinion, you beat her out by a mile.

But even more so, you were known for being the progeny of an infamous pirate, a name so powerful that no man or woman who knew you dared to harm a hair on your head.

Red-Haired Shanks, whose daughter was as flirtatious as she was cunning, as smooth as she was strong, and as dangerous as she was beautiful.

And holy hell, was she beautiful.

So, not only had Zoro developed a small—not small at all—attraction toward one of the most dangerous women in the world, but also the woman who was practically a sister to his captain.

Yeah... all in all, things were very messy.

And god-fucking-dammit, if he had to watch you flip your silky hair one more time—

"All right, we gotta have a talk," he groaned, completely dropping the weight, shaking the crows's nest as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

With lightening speed, you floated over, dropping yourself right in front of him.

"Yes?"

"Look, (y/n)," he sighed, running an anxious hand through his hair, fighting off the familiar burn crawling up his neck. "You're... nice. And funny. And I enjoy sharing a bottle of sake with you every once in a while."

Realizing he was going off-topic, he quickly cleared his throat, focusing back on the task at hand.

"But I can't afford any tempta—distractions," he corrected, practically turning into a beet at his obvious slip up. "So..."

Innocently, you clasped your hands behind your back, shifting your weight on your hips as you subtly leaned in, completely unbothered.

God, you were even curvier up close.

"After I'm the World's Greatest Swordsman, if you still wanna try this, then... sure. But I've got no time for it now."

With a shrug, you turned around, already knowing exactly how to handle this.

"Too bad," you sighed, your arms coming around to hug your torso. "M'free now."

Zoro swallowed thickly, unable to stop his legs from taking a step forward, as if he was supposed to comfort you.

"I couldn't... I couldn't do that to Luffy," he attempted to come up with another reason, anything to reinforce the very thin string of sanity he was holding to. "Not without talking to him first."

At that, you smirked, turning around to meet him with blazing eyes, their intensity enough to reduce the swordsman to a puddle on the floor.

"I don't see Luffy anywhere... Do you?"

"S-so eager," you hummed, the matted floors of the crow's nest chafing slightly underneath your arched back.

Your nails dug into his muscled shoulders, holding back a giggle at the way he was already gone.

Eyes droopy...

Abs flexing...

Panting...

"Zo, s'all this pent up from—?"

"You," his rough hands kneaded your ass, dragging your body forward to grind against him.

God, he didn't even know the question he was answering.

Zoro was entirely preoccupied with making sure he didn't fucking pass out.

He was humping you as if he was in heat, soft gasps leaving his lips at the wet squelches from down below.

"Say it," his calloused hands slid up to rest on your waist, squeezing the plush flesh between his fingers. "Say my name again."

It was adorable how tough he attempted to sound, acting as if he wasn't wracked with shudders at every smooth gyration of your hips against his hardened dick.

"Say what?" you purred, teasingly, peppering kisses along his neck and jaw, only to have him bite your lip in warning. "Zo? The same Zo that was so mean to me a few minutes ago, trying to ignore me—?"

"M'sorry!"

In your dreams, you'd teased him far worse than this, but he was already an utter wreck, that fact alone enough to send another wave of arousal pooling at your core.

God, this man...

"There! I said it. Won't-won't ignore you again hngh! Fuck- Let you stay as long as you want."

Bingo.

The crow's nest rang out with rhythmic plap! plap! plap! as Zoro finally picked up the pace, speeding up with each thrust deeper into your cunt.

"Ngh! Zoro- Zoro f-fuck," you keened, the air in your lungs slowly but surely leaving you. "L-Lucky I like you s'much."

He was so hot, practically burning up at the heavenly plush of your pussy, forcing him to throw his head back in pleasure.

You had never been stretched so far, his dick massaging your sweet spots without even trying.

"Ha-ahh- so tight- fuck- how the hell d'you feel so damn good?" he panted, placing the occasional open-mouth kiss against your neck.

His biceps flexed with effort, rippling as the vice like grip around your waist pulled even tighter.

You couldn't answer if you wanted to.

"C'mon, speak t'me," he smirked, smugly. "Whisper those pretty words in my ear like you always do."

"Zoro!" you moaned, weakly tossing your head back. "L-Love this- Love this s'much... Love you..."

"That right?" he grinned wildly, capturing your lips in another kiss before picking up the pace.

Oh, he was neverrr letting you go.

"Tell me more."

BONUS !!

"AHHHH!" Shanks shouted, clutching his chest as he frantically sat up in his hammock, suddenly unable to catch his breath.

A chorus of groans and grumbles sounded off as the others jolted awake, Benn Beckman rolling over on his side to look down at his captain.

"Hell are you yellin' for?" he grunted, gruffly. "S'barely four."

"I had a dream..." Shanks replied, tone distant and dramatic.

He had never had such a vivid nightmare before.

"(y/n) was kidnapped by a furry, green moss-devil with three earrings and a missing eye."

"For fuck's sake..."

"You think (y/n)'s all right? Y'know, I heard somewhere that dreams are metaphors for real life. Maybe the world's trying to tell me something."

"M'too tired 'n' too sober for this conversation."

"I'm serious!"

"Go t'sleep."

"But—"

"Sleep."

#zorosangell #one piece #one piece x reader #roronoa #roronoa zoro #roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro #zoro x reader #op

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dearlenore · 2 days ago

Note

I just found your account recently and I have fallen in love with your writing, it's so beautiful.

Could you do something with protective reader. Like where reader and spencer like each other but are to oblivious to the others feelings to do anything but when reader finds out Spencer's being teased by some people she goes off on them (even though spencer assures it's not a big deal). And when spencer confronts her about why she did that she confesses on accident.

Hope this makes any sence 🫶🏻

A GOOD GIRL’S GUIDE TO DESTRUCTION • S.REID

SUMMARY: when you discover your workplace crush is being bullied by some loser agents with a room temperature IQ, you decide it would be criminal to allow it to stand and show them their place in the bullpen.

PAIRING: Bau!fem!reader x preseason1!spencer

tags: reader is a a little mean, reader wears heels, reader is canonly SUPER hot, lowkey bullying, use of y/n once or twice I think???, feminine reader,

a/n: WAIT this is so frickin cute also YES BABY IM BACK DOING REQUESTS!!🥹❤️ took a 2 day break (how dare I) and now I’m back, working on a Coraline / sex w a ghost inspired Spencer fic so be ready guysss also Tim Bradford content soon anyways to the fic!💋

w/c: 2K

THE BULLPEN BUZZED with its usual chaos — phones ringing, agents shuffling between desks, and voices blending into a low hum. You were perched elegantly at your desk, pretending to scroll through messages on your phone while discreetly watching Spencer across the room.

You knew how people saw you — effortlessly polished, always put together. Your glossy hair framed your face perfectly, your designer blouse tucked neatly into a fitted dress pants that showed off your figure without being unprofessional. Agents often paused mid-sentence when you walked by, some too intimidated to even meet your gaze.

But right now? You were watching him.

Spencer’s curls fell messily over his forehead as he scribbled furiously in his notebook, bottom lip caught between his teeth. His brow furrowed in that focused way you adored — like he was trying to solve the universe itself in that tiny notebook.

Adorable, you thought, your fingers drumming lazily on your desk.

That was when you heard it — the unmistakable snicker of two agents across the room.

“Can you believe this guy?” one of them muttered, voice just loud enough to carry. “He’s probably writing love notes to his library card.”

The other chuckled. “I bet he has dinner with his sock drawer — alphabetized, of course.”

Your gaze snapped toward them. Spencer, naturally oblivious, kept his head down, pretending not to hear — or maybe he genuinely didn’t care.

But you did.

It wasn’t just that they were mocking him — it was who they were mocking. Spencer, who always brought you coffee exactly how you liked it. Spencer, who explained things in a way that never made you feel dumb. Spencer, who once offered to walk you home after a late case, rambling nervously the entire way because he didn’t know how to flirt properly — but you secretly loved every second of it.

Nobody — nobody — humiliated Spencer Reid on your watch.

Game on.

“Morning,” you said sweetly, your voice carrying just enough sugar to make your presence impossible to ignore. You approached the agents’ desks with your coffee cup balanced delicately in hand — nails painted a glossy shade of crimson that matched your lipstick.

“Oh, sorry,” you added with faux surprise, setting your coffee down — directly on top of one of their open case files with a splash. The paper instantly darkened as the liquid seeped in, staining the pages in messy brown splotches. “Did I interrupt your little gossip session?”

Both men froze, their smug expressions faltering.

“Oops,” you said with a smile — sharp, intentional.

The taller of the two — Agent Neanderthal, as you’d mentally labeled him — scowled. “What’s your problem?”

“Oh, no problem,” you said airily, straightening your posture so you towered just enough to make him feel small. “I was just wondering…” You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a low purr. “Should I mention your little trip to The Yellow Rose last Friday?”

His face twitched.

“I’m sure your wife would love to hear how ‘late paperwork’ somehow turned into a two-hour stay at a certain gentleman’s club.”

His face drained of color so fast you wondered if you should fetch him some water — if only to dump it on his head.

“And you…” You turned to the second agent, your gaze cutting through him like a blade. “I heard your performance review is coming up.” Your smile sharpened. “Did you really forget to file those evidence logs from last month?”

“That’s not even —”

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your chest as if you were devastated by the revelation. “Oh no! I’d hate for this to reflect poorly on your career.”

His jaw tightened.

“So,” you added sweetly, stepping back and adjusting your silk blouse like you were bored already, “maybe next time you feel like mocking someone, you’ll remember you’re not exactly invincible.”

When you returned to your desk, you didn’t just sit — you practically posed. Perched elegantly on the corner of it, legs crossed just so, you let one stiletto dangle lazily from your feet — an effortless power move. Your silk blouse hugged your figure perfectly, hair sleek and immaculate, makeup flawless. You knew exactly how to command a room without saying a word — and today, that power was directed squarely at two very unfortunate agents.

You ensured you had a perfect line of sight to the pair — Agent Neanderthal and his equally unpleasant sidekick. Both were still stewing from your earlier encounter, heads down and lips tight. Good. Let them simmer.

Moments later, Penelope approached with her tablet in hand, her bright ensemble — purple heels, a floral dress, and glitter-covered glasses — making her impossible to miss. She wore a mischievous smile, her eyes practically sparkling with glee.

“Oh my gosh,” she gushed dramatically, loud enough to grab nearby attention. “Thank you for sending me that!”

“Sending you what?” you asked innocently, your voice light but your smile sharper than glass.

“You know,” Penelope grinned, practically bouncing on her heels. “The picture of the surveillance feed from last week?”

You bit back a smirk. “Ohhh… that.”

With a flourish, Penelope turned her tablet toward you — and there it was: a glorious shot of Agent Neanderthal, visibly drunk, stumbling out of a bar. His tie hung loosely around his neck, shirt half-untucked. The real gem, however, was the moment his foot caught on the curb — resulting in a spectacular faceplant onto the sidewalk.

“Oh wow,” you said, loud enough for your voice to carry across the bullpen. You tapped your chin thoughtfully, feigning surprise. “I didn’t realize he was so… graceful.”

The agents around you chuckled quietly.

One of the men in question froze, his face turning crimson as he locked eyes with you. His hand instinctively shot up to shield his face like that would somehow erase the memory.

“Oh, don’t be shy!” Penelope chimed in sweetly. “I’ve been thinking — maybe I should edit it to include some slow-motion effects. You know, like one of those sports fail videos?”

“I love that,” you agreed, grinning wider. “Oh! Maybe you can add some dramatic music too — something classy. Like ‘Ave Maria.’”

“Genius,” Penelope gasped, clicking her fingers like she’d just discovered a new planet.

By now, the nearby agents — including Derek — were openly snickering.

“Man,” Derek chuckled, “I didn’t think I’d live to see someone out-mean girl literally any Highschool drama.”

You shot him a wink. “What can I say? Some of us just have a gift.”

Out of the corner of your eye, Agent Neanderthal shot you a murderous glare. His face was still flushed, beads of sweat gathering at his hairline.

“Careful,” you said sweetly as you passed him on your way to refill your coffee. “Wouldn’t want you to trip again.”

The bullpen had settled into a lazy hum by late afternoon — phones quieter, conversations softer, agents slumped in their chairs as they chipped away at paperwork. The air smelled faintly of stale coffee and printer ink.

Spencer was still at his desk, flipping through his notebook as usual. His curls flopped over his forehead, obscuring his face as his pen scratched rapidly across the page. He was deep in thought — his brow furrowed, lips slightly parted.

Completely willingly oblivious, as always.

And while that boy-genius brain of his could memorize entire encyclopedias, he somehow never seemed to notice the way you lingered near his desk a little longer than necessary or how you always ended up next to him during briefings.

Today wasn’t going to be one of those days.

As you strolled past Agent Neanderthal’s desk, you paused just long enough to deliver your final strike.

“Oh,” you said sweetly, your voice carrying just loud enough to ensure everyone nearby could hear. “I mentioned to Strauss that you’d be perfect for re-cataloging the evidence archives this weekend. She seemed thrilled.”

His head snapped up so fast you were almost impressed he didn’t get whiplash. “You what?”

“You’re welcome,” you said with a bright, saccharine smile before turning on your heel.

Behind you, you heard a chorus of muffled snickers — Derek’s laugh unmistakable among them.

“Damn,” Derek muttered. “I almost feel bad for the guy.”

“Don’t,” Penelope chimed in from her perch by the coffee station, eyes gleaming. “He had it coming.”

Your heels clicked sharply against the floor as you walked back toward your desk, each step a silent victory lap.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Spencer said softly, his voice pulling you from your smug haze.

“Do what?” you asked, still feigning innocence.

“Y/N…” He sighed, stepping closer. His gaze flicked briefly toward Agent Neanderthal’s desk, where the man was still sulking. “I know what you did. The coffee spill, the pictures, the whole ‘Strauss’ thing. You didn’t have to —”

“Yes, I did,” you cut him off, your voice sharper than you intended.

Spencer blinked in surprise.

“I heard what they were saying,” you continued, your tone softer now. “You sit there, minding your business, doing your job — and they still have the nerve to make you feel like you don’t belong.”

“I don’t care what they think,” Spencer insisted. “It’s not worth —”

“Well, I care,” you shot back.

The words hung heavy in the air, your frustration bubbling just under the surface.

“I care because you’re… you’re you, Spencer.” You exhaled sharply, your arms crossing tightly over your chest. “And they don’t get to treat you like you’re some kind of joke.”

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but you weren’t finished.

“I mean, what did you think I was gonna do?” you asked, your voice turning casual, almost amused. “You’re my favorite person. I’m obviously gonna step in.”

Spencer frowned slightly. “Wait… what?”

You blinked, confused by his confusion.

“Spencer,” you said with a laugh, “I’m in love with you. You knew that.”

The bullpen noise seemed to dull in an instant — a vacuum of silence swallowing the air between you.

Spencer’s expression twisted in slow motion — brows furrowing, mouth slightly agape, eyes wide with disbelief. “Wait… what?”

You frowned, the realization hitting you. “Oh my God… you didn’t know?”

“I…” Spencer stammered, still stuck somewhere between baffled and frozen. “No?”

“Oh.” You paused, trying to wrap your head around how he didn’t know. “I just… I thought you figured it out.”

“How?” Spencer asked incredulously, his hands gesturing wildly now. “How was I supposed to know that?”

You tilted your head, counting the obvious signs on your fingers. “I make you coffee every morning. I let you ramble about statistics even when I don’t care. I watched that entire chess documentary just so I could understand what you were talking about last month — which, by the way, was four hours long.”

Spencer’s lips twitched like he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite manage it.

“I’ve been ridiculously obvious,” you continued. “Honestly, I thought Penelope was going to start making PowerPoint presentations about it.”

Spencer let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his curls. “I… I didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do,” you said with a shrug, like you hadn’t just confessed your heart to him in the middle of the bullpen.

Spencer stared at you for a beat too long — like he was trying to process some unsolvable equation. Then, without warning, he stepped forward and kissed you.

His lips were warm and soft against yours — hesitant at first, like he was still waiting for you to push him away. But when you leaned in closer, his hand instinctively found your waist, fingers curling in your blouse like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

You smiled against his lips, heart racing.

When you finally pulled back, Spencer’s face was flushed, his eyes still half-lidded like he was dazed.

“You know,” he murmured breathlessly, “I was… uh… trying to figure out how to tell you I liked you too.”

“Oh?” you grinned. “Well, I think I handled that better than you would have.”

“Yeah,” Spencer said softly, a warm smile spreading across his face. “You definitely did.”

“Well,” you teased, fingers curling around his perpetually crooked tie to straighten it, “I’m good at a lot of things.”

“Yeah,” Spencer repeated, gaze warm as it lingered on you. “You are.”

From across the room, Penelope’s voice rang out, far too smug to be accidental.

“I knew it!”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #x reader #fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fluff #fluff #cm #request

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moon-ttokki-x · 2 days ago

Text

‧₊ a little bit sweeter - (roommate!han jisung x reader) ˚‧

pairing: college roommate!han jisung x reader

summary: jisung realises that he feels something more for his roommate who loves to bake.

genre: college!au, mentions of eating and drinking, slightly suggestive ? kissing, jisung being a whole simp for reader, one sus joke, making cookies (bc i'm craving them so bad rn)

a/n: hihi~ inspired by this post, so i'm tagging @butteredsushi and @jisunggy thanks for the fic inspo guys <3 div by @kodaswrld

skz masterlist

"Whatcha doing?"

You look up just as Jisung, your roommate, enters the kitchen, no doubt drawn by the clattering noises that you've filled the flat with. He hops up on the counter, peeking behind you in interest, where you've set a heap of bowls and pans onto the countertop.

"Just wanted to make something," you exhale, poking his cheek before moving to find the bowl you're looking for. Jisung hums and sits back on the counter, leaning on his hands as he watches you clumsily sift through the pile, muttering to yourself.

"Do I get to eat whatever it is that you're making?" He asks carefully, secretly crossing his fingers in a hope you'll say yes.

You huff and stand up from where you've been bending and peering into the cabinets. "Ji, we literally live together."

"Yeah, but like, were you planning to eat it all by yourself?"

You laugh, gesturing for him to open the cupboard directly below his feet, which he does. "Maybe, but we both know you would have eaten most of it. Do you want to eat something specific?"

"Cookies," he says instantly, not hesitating. His cheeks flush pink.

You roll your eyes, taking out a spoon. "Should've known."

Jisung throws his hands up defensively. "What? They're good for days like this, with the weather how it is right now. Be for real."

He has a point, you think as you look out the window.

It's drizzling in a fine swell over what you can see of the city, a heavy, almost blue fog casting itself like a blanket over the buildings. Classes ended early today, and you'd wanted nothing more to rush back to your dorm and rid yourself of the soaked, cold clothes you'd had to be in all morning.

To say the least, it had been extremely unpleasant weather, and it had taken at least an hour standing under the steaming water of the shower to try and bring your body's temperature up again.

You shiver as your eyes flicker over to the door, your still-wet shoes leaking droplets of storm water onto the plastic bag you'd set them upon in an attempt to keep the floor dry. Jisung was already back from his lecture by the time you got in, and he hadn't even looked up as you'd rushed into your room and slammed the door, soaking wet and chattering as you turned the water on.

At least, you think he hadn't looked up at you. In reality, he'd been waiting for the moment the door would open and you would come in.

But you didn't notice. You never do.

You set two more bowls onto the counter, missing the way Jisung's eyes follow yours as you move across the floor, gaze fixed on the way your hair is still drying, hanging in little damp clusters over your ears and nape. Your cheeks are flushed, most likely from the boiling water you shower in, and your figure is swamped in an oversized hoodie and a pair of grey sweats. His heart jolts as he looks you up and down, trying to fight that warm feeling that seems to rise in his chest every time he meets your gaze.

I have a hoodie that looks almost the same... it looks like you're wearing my clothes. That'd be so hot...

"...and then I had to rush all the way back here because it was so cold and rainy outside. You have a point, to be honest; I was thinking about eating something warm and delicious when I got back, but I wanted something a little bit sweeter- Ji. Ji, are you listening?"

"H-huh?" He shakes his head, thoughts of you in his clothes hastily evaporating. "Uh, yeah."

You point a measuring cup at him cheekily. "Liar. What's wrong? Are you too hot? I can turn the thermostat down if you want... I turned it up super high when I got back because it was so cold-"

"N-no, it's okay," he interrupts. "Sorry. Just a long morning. Classes and all that."

You shoot him a sympathetic look, opening a packet of self-raising flour. "Yeah, I get that. Poor you... And all this rain, too... not really ideal for all the walking we have to do nowadays."

Jisung can't help but smile softly at your rambling, holding the edge of the bowl as you almost knock it off the countertop. Your measuring spoon gets bumped in the process and a small puff of flour spills onto Jisung's knee, dusting the loose, black denim.

"Oops," you say sheepishly, setting the cup down. "Sorry."

He's about to reply and tell you it's okay before his gaze flits down to your hand, which is gently brushing off his knee. And suddenly, he can't seem to focus on anything but your touch. It's warm, even through the thick fabric, and he finds himself wishing you'd bumped the measuring cup a little harder so you could be brushing off all the flour for longer, your fingers gentle against his leg.

He doesn't even mind that there's a subtle white patch on the denim where it spilt.

You scratch the back of your head. "Hang on, let me get a paper towel-"

"No, don't worry," he blurts out. "I-it's fine."

You look up in surprise, tapping another cupful of flour into the bowl before adding a haphazard mix of baking soda, salt, and cornstarch over it. "Are you sure? I'm gonna make a mess in this place. I don't want your clothes to get dirty..."

"It's fine," he says again, a little more confidently. "I can just take them off."

You splutter, sending a puff of flour into the air, making both of you cough as Jisung waves his hands frantically, cheeks scarlet.

"I-i didn't mean it like that," he coughs, flustered. "I meant-"

"I know what you meant," you say, fighting a grin as you turn away to open the fridge. "Honestly, Ji."

He drops his face into his hands just as you crack two eggs into another bowl, heading back to the fridge for the stick of half-finished butter on the top shelf. You've learnt to buy more butter than you think you need; your roommate has a habit of using far too much butter than necessary on his toast. Not that your topping habits are much better; the Nutella jar is usually empty after a day.

Anyways.

Placing the rest of the butter in a small glass bowl, you set the microwave timer for 30 seconds before closing the door. Jisung's eyes follow the bowl spinning round and round inside, the butter seeping and melting into an oily mess against the glass edges.

His fingers tap against the countertop as you move your bowls over to where he's sitting, your shoulder brushing his arm as you busy yourself with tipping brown and granulated sugar into yet another bowl. Jisung cheekily dips his finger into the mixture and brings it to his mouth as you smack his hand away, relishing the raw, saccharine taste of the grains.

"You have to stop doing that.. Ew, Ji!"

He wipes his finger nonchalantly on your arm, much to your disgust. Ignoring your groans, he hums to himself as you take the melted butter from the microwave, slamming the door shut again.

"Stop doing what?" He says innocently.

"Dipping your little thieving paws into the bowls... you'll contaminate it. And wiping said paws on my arm..."

"So?" He says, grinning, ears still red from his earlier comment. "It's not like anyone else but you and me are eating the stuff you make."

You huff and tip the butter into the bowl, spilling half of it in the process. "I'm gonna put raisins in these if you keep provoking me."

"No!"

"Shut up and stop bothering me then," you huff, one hand coming up to matter-of-factly wipe a tiny speckle of sugar from the corner of his lip.

He's about to make a comment, but he goes silent; his face turns the colour of the cherry tomatoes in the fridge crisper as you whisk the butter into the sugar mixture. You don't even notice how quiet he's gone, and as a habit, begin to ramble.

"I can't believe the mixer broke," you say absentmindedly. "I had to search for ages and ages for a recipe that didn't need a mixer for the process. It's actually so much easier to melt the butter too... last time I did this, I didn't mix it all in properly so the cookies tasted horrible after- not that you cared, of course, because I came back to the glass dish where I put them in a day before and they were all gone- Ji, you're not listening again."

"Yes I am," he says, strained. His face is red.

"No you're not. Anyways, I had to find substitutes for most of the ingredients until I could get to the store last week.."

You run off on yet another tangent about the recipe and different methods of baking and flavours, but all Jisung can focus on is the fact that you just touched his lip, wiped away whatever it was that what on his mouth, without so much as blinking. Like it was nothing... He finds himself beginning to panic a little; his face still feels all hot and tingly.

They just wiped my mouth for me... Wait, isn't that what couples do in the movies?? Does that mean.. no, it doesn't, because they didn't even blink when they did it. There's no way they feel the way I do right now, like this- is it hot in here? My face feels so warm...

He's about to lift the neckline of his hoodie to try and fan some air into his body, but not before something sweet-smelling and textured lands on the apple of his cheekbone.

He freezes, watching as you dip a finger into a bowl full of white paste. Frosting.

You know Jisung likes frosting on his cookies; it's a fact he hasn't even told you, but you know from the way he always secretly opens the tub of ready-made icing in the fridge that he likes them to be eaten that way. You always make a bowl of it whenever you bake now, just for him. Currently, you can't get over the look on his face; shocked, and almost distant, like he was distracted by something.

You managed to crack the eggs, mix all the ingredients together, add chocolate chips to the mixture, form the dough into balls, and put it all into the oven without him making so much as a comment. And then slightly warm up the icing too. He's never been this quiet.

Like, ever.

"Are you okay?" You smile. "You look a million miles away."

He gulps and watches as you dip a different finger into the icing, some of it remaining on your lip as you lick your fingertip clean. He can feel the tiny dollop of frosting you've dotted on his cheek. It's probably melting with how hot his face feels.

His gaze never leaves your mouth, and his eyes flit to the mess you've made of the counter; there's not a single ingredient you haven't managed to spill a quantity of. Most of it is staining your clothes too, not that you seem to care.

Y/n...

"Ji?" You wave a hand in front of his face, trying to rid him of the glazed look in his eyes. "What's wrong?"

Silence. Then-

"You look so beautiful," he murmurs.

It slips out so unexpectedly that he can't even bring himself to be surprised or regretful about it; if he never tells you, you'll never know how stunning you look in the moment, all damp hair and flour-smeared cheeks.

And maybe you don't look lovely to anyone else, but to Jisung, he's never seen anything more beautiful. And in a moment of instant clarity, he knows he's regret it forever if he doesn't tell you how he's felt for so long. Or worse, if someone else decides to tell you the same thing, and he never gets his chance...

You blink at the unexpected sentiment, not thinking much of it. "Thanks."

Turning away, you pick up a bowl and deposit it in the sink before Jisung pulls you back by the shoulder, you tumbling between his legs from where he's still sitting on the counter.

You don't even get a moment to process what's happening before his mouth is pressed gently against yours, tasting of sweet icing and brown sugar.

You mold yourself immediately into his embrace as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you a little closer as his head tilts to the left. You're pretty sure he's almost breaking his neck, kissing you like this, but you couldn't care less, and it seems, neither can he.

"Jisung," you exhale against his lips, almost gasping.

"Sorry," he whispers, though there's a hint of cheekiness behind it that he can't quite disguise. "Should've asked to kiss you..."

You giggle and pull him in again, your hands finding their way to his nape, playing with the tiny, soft hairs there before he pulls back to gaze at you. "It's okay."

He looks too far gone now; his hair is deliciously rumpled from you running your fingers every which way through it, his cheeks still stained pink. The frosting on his cheek is smeared, a long, pale streak against the perfect planes of his skin.

You're about to pull him in again, and his mouth eagerly moves towards yours, but he only gets a light brush against your lips before the oven timer rudely interrupts, beeping and echoing in the silence of the flat. He groans as you turn away and reach across to switch it off.

You hear Jisung laugh breathlessly behind you as you peer through the oven glass; the cookies, once round and perfect, have now spread into a chocolatey mess across the baking tray, and you can see several small bits of dough beginning to burn dark against the hot surface of the oven grilles.

"Shit," you mumble as Jisung pulls you back into him, peppering kisses over your face. "I forgot to chill the dough before I put them in..."

"Screw that," he sighs against you. "We should chill instead. Just us, hmm? Cancel whatever plans you had..."

"Done," you whisper. "But what about the cookies-"

Jisung pulls you impossibly closer, his breath a warm fan across your cheeks and neck.

"Forget that," he murmurs. "I have something sweeter."

a/n: i forgot how fun writing jisung is >< asks open !

ttokki's taglist: @emilywhyyy @galaxy4489 @hyuneskkami @justsomekpopstuff @wavetohannie @strayingawayy @its-stayville-forever @batty-barty-crouchjr @wickedbutlovely @headfirstfortoro @lov3yv4mps

send a dm, comment under the taglist post, or send an ask to be added !

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fireinmoonshot · 2 days ago

Text

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Reader Summary: Joaquín notices everything – even when you get a small hair cut. Warnings: It's mentioned that reader has hair long enough to braid. Word Count: 838 A/N: Just another smaller drabble tonight – inspired by me getting my hair cut this week (and dyed, but I figured it was a little too specific to have the reader dye their hair blue like mine) 😅 This was so sweet to write though, so please enjoy 💗

Over the course of your relationship with Joaquin, you’ve heard many stories from your friends about how their boyfriends never notice when they get their hair done or get a hair cut. You, on the other hand, happen to be dating one of the most observant men on the planet.

It’s no secret that Joaquin is easily distracted. If it were anyone else, Joaquin wouldn’t even blink twice. He remembers one time that he worked alongside someone for a whole month before noticing that they’d shaved their head. But with you it’s different. With you, he notices everything – even the smallest things.

Which is why, when you come home from the hair salon with a small trim, Joaquin notices. You hadn’t had time to tell him when you’d rushed out of the house earlier that day – you’d overslept and had been rushing to make it there on time. Joaquin had still been fast asleep and had woken up to a text from you saying you had an appointment and you’d be back a little later.

He’s sitting on the couch playing a video game when you walk in the front door. The second he hears your keys in the front door he presses pause and stands up so he can greet you. It’s the first time he’s seen you all day and he’s missed you.

“Ah, mi corazón, you’re home,” he hums, walking over to pull you into a hug. He’s two steps away from you when he notices your hair. He reaches out, touching the ends of it. “You got your hair cut?”

You look at him, a little surprised. “I only got a trim, baby. How could you even tell?”

Joaquin shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t know, I could just see that it was shorter.” He wraps his arms around you, then, pulling you into his chest in a hug like he’d planned on doing before he’d noticed your haircut. “I’m a very observant guy. It looks good.”

You smile into his chest. “That, you are, and thank you. Were you playing a game?” You could see the paused screen on the TV as you walked into the room. Joaquin is probably one of the only men alive who would willingly pause their video game to hug their partner to welcome them home after being apart for a couple of hours. You have never once had to beg Joaquin to turn off his games or pull him away from the screen to get him to do things around the house.

“I was, yeah,” Joaquin nods, pulling away from the hug. “You wanna come and watch me play for a bit? Or I can turn on a movie or the next episode of our show.” Joaquin is probably also one of the only boyfriends who never watches the show that you watch together when he’s alone. It’s your thing as a couple, even if he gets invested and gets annoyed that he has to wait for the next episode until you both have free time.

You wrap an arm around his waist. “Can we watch a movie?”

Joaquin agrees, leading you over to the couch and sitting down beside you. You curl up against his side, draping an arm across his chest and resting your head on his shoulder as he turns off the game and opens up Netflix to find something to watch. With his free hand that isn’t holding the TV remote, he reaches up and starts to play with your hair. He twists some of it around his fingers, then just runs his fingers through it a few times.

“What are you doing?” You ask, a little confused. Joaquin is not the type of person to keep his hands to himself, but he’s never been known to play with your hair before. Not in situations like this, anyway.

He glances over at you. “Your hair is at the perfect length now for me to play with it when we’re sitting like this,” he says simply. “Also, I was thinking – maybe I should learn to braid. I could help you do your hair sometimes when we go out, and if we have kids it means you won’t have to do their hair all the time and I can be the cool dad who braids his kids hair.”

You don’t think it’s actually possible for you to love Joaquin more than you already do.

“You wanna learn how to braid?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs a shoulder – the one you’re not leaning on. “I’ve actually already been watching some Youtube videos on it but it’s hard to learn when I don’t have someone to practice on.”

You sit up, taking Joaquin off guard. He looks at you, a little concerned. “We’re gonna watch a movie another night, baby,” you decide, turning around so your back is to him. “Tonight, you’re gonna practice braiding hair.”

Joaquin is suddenly excited. He sits up a little straighter, eyes wide. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, really,” you chuckle. “Show me what you’ve been learning.”

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #marvel #marvel x reader #captain america brave new world

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burreauxoxo · 2 days ago

Text

people magazines new hollywood dads! - joe burrow

dad!joe x fem!reader

summary: in which, joe is featured in people magazines “new hollywood dads” section of the upcoming issue. take a look at how you two are handling bringing her home, the newborn stage, and the initial announcement!

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, babies, joe being a girl dad

word count: 2.9k

authors note: this is lightly inspired by the “hollywood dads” or even “hollywood moms” section in US Weekly’s magazine. i am not sure which issue i seen it in or if its a regular coverage topic, i just wanted to do my own twist on it which explains why i chose people magazine because it has a better ring to it haha.

let me know if you want the readers version for “hollywood moms” or even more about you two with baby girl!

divider below and pictures above are not mine! all credits go to the rightful owners!

your guys’ baby girl sat in her swing next to you as it made figure-eight motions to keep her asleep. she was the perfect bundle of joy and she sat at just two weeks old. she was fragile like the porcelain that sat in the cabinets, tiny like the football her father threw for a living, and just as cute as the angel everyone called her. she was the definition of perfect in your eyes.

“people magazine wants to feature the baby and i this month. are we ready for that?” joe asks you over a cup of coffee as you two sat at the kitchen table, eating breakfast and admiring your baby while doing so.

she eats good, she sleeps like her father (for long durations), and her little smile she does in her sleep is worth melting over.

these tiny, personal details weighed against the idea of releasing her to the public eye.

this magazine would be in an archive for someone to look at over one hundred years from now. she very well could be a part of history. this magazine could sit in a random doctor’s office for years, maybe even taken home by a patient. her debut in a magazine was coming a lot sooner than you and joe both had anticipated.

“i think… as long as we keep her face out of the public eye for a while, you should be okay.” you suggest.

“it’s for their ‘new hollywood dads’ section so that’s their explanation for contacting us so early.” joe adds and you nod your head.

“maybe we should post something about her on instagram so we aren’t hard-launching her through a magazine.” you reason.

“we shouldn’t have to launch her at all. i wonder if we would have been able to pull off having her without saying anything.” joe shrugs.

“i don’t want her to grow up and think we wanted her to be a secret though.”

“yeah, it’s her privacy and safety. that’s all.”

“you know, i adore that you are respecting that and take it as a priority. you are already such a great father, so it doesn’t surprise me.” you say as joe stands up and walks around the table.

he stops right in front of her swing and squats down to be at her level; even though she’s sleeping.

“her cheeks are growing.” joe points out.

he runs his finger over her chubby cheek, letting the soft baby skin fulfill his touch.

“the more i feed her, the faster she is going to get all chunky.” you say and it makes joe laugh.

“at her rate, she’s going to have croissants for legs in no time.”

eventually, joe submitted one photo to the publisher. it was a simple one. baby girl was dressed in a plain white onesie and joe had her on his knee as he burped her.

he was also going to post the photo on instagram. even though joe was reluctant, he decided to share the moment.

view all 323 comments…

lahjay_10 making it big time man. much love 💪❤️

↳ joeyb_9 thanks man ❤️

teehiggins someone’s been busy…

↳ joeyb_9 and someone has too much time on their hands…

y/n.burrow baby daddy is baby daddy-ing 😩

↳ joeyb_9 relax…

fanpage.one WHAT

fanpage.two SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

user.five didn’t even know he was married, let alone a father. congrats burrow!

gkittle sending our love to you! congrats dude!

↳ joeyb_9 thanks man, stay healthy this season!

justinherbert congratulations man!

user.four now go win a ring to complete the collection!

it’s been a dream for joe to be able to see not only your progress throughout this journey, but his mental progress as well.

you had your baby girl during the off season which you thanked any lord above for. the last thing you wanted as soon as you seen those two pink lines was for joe to be gone, leading to this possibility of him missing the whole labor and delivery process. but he was with you for the last couple weeks of pregnancy and the moment you realized you were in labor.

no emergency calls to anyone while he was out playing on the field, indicating that he needed to put the ball in the backup quarterbacks hands as he flew home as fast as he could. it would have been a race to see who got there first; joe or the baby.

none of that needed to happen though. he was there to line newborn sized diapers into the babies changing table that stood proudly in her nursery. he sat in the living room with you as you watched movies and folded baby clothes, each of you holding up various outfits and saying “i can’t wait for her to wear this!” throughout these last couple weeks, a major revelation was unfolding in joe’s head.

this wasn’t something small you two were preparing for. yeah, baby girl was small weight and height wise. but in the grand scheme of things, she was about to become his whole world; and that took some preparation.

as soon as he heard her first cry, his tears started flowing. as he sat there, holding her skin-to-skin while you took your first nap after many hours of labor, he felt a love he had never felt before. it made his chest tighten and he was unable to explain just how happy he was.

when he helped you load her into her car seat, a little bundle all scrunched up in a big mechanism compared to her size, he realized just how fragile she was. yeah, he was petrified the first time he changed her diaper, but there was something different. this car seat was going to instill her safety while they were in the car; everything needed to be placed and clicked-in correctly.

as you were discharged from the hospital, you were dressed in a black button-down pajama set, joe was wearing his blue seinfeld pants with a white hoodie, and baby girl was wearing a pink, knitted onesie with her name sewn on the front of it. she also wore some white, knitted socks to match.

you were ready to go home as you were sick of the hospital setting. you were excited to be bringing her home, you knew being home was where everyone was meant to be.

jim and robin were there to greet you. it was a bit later in the day and robin knew you were going to be hungry after the events of the last couple days. with that being said, she had dinner ready and set out. she had gotten a text from her son saying that they were getting ready to be discharged from the hospital and would be on their way home soon. as soon as robin got the text, she put all the food in the oven or on the stove to heat up.

she had also placed a small basket of necessities for a new mom on the couch where she knew you would be during parts of your resting period.

joe was quick to shut the car off and circle around the car to help you out. you sat in the back with the new baby. as you grabbed one of his hands, his other hand went to your back to help stabilize you.

“you want to grab her?” you ask.

“yeah, i’ll get her.”

joe had the most practice with the car seat and you were drained, you didn’t feel like fighting with it at that exact moment.

the door was already unlocked when you approached it. as soon as you opened it, the most delicious smell filled the air. joe was right behind you, car seat with baby girl sleeping in it in hand.

“hi, you two!” robin says kind of quietly.

you met robin with a hug.

“i’m so proud of you! you did it!” she says and kisses your forehead. you were the daughter she never had and she was like your second mom; even before you and joe got married. while your parents were states away, she was there to temporarily fill that missing place in your heart and she loved doing so.

joe then steps in and turns the car seat so his parents could take their first looks at the baby.

“oh my gosh, she looks just like you.” robin says as she looks up to her son.

“her features will change and that was a whole topic we discussed in the hospital.” joe says as he looks over at you.

“i was a little sad because she really looks like i had no part in making her but, i’ve come to terms with the fact that her and her father are just perfect so how could i be mad?” you say and robin laughs.

“let’s get you to the couch and we will plate you up some dinner.” jim says as he helps guide you to the living room.

joe walks with you to the living room, setting the car seat on the ottoman that sat in front of you. he reaches in and carefully clicks the button to release the straps that were holding your daughter in. really slowly and extremely careful, he took her out of the car seat and handed her to you.

“feeding time, right?” he asks and you look at your watch.

“right on time.” you smile up at your husband.

“let me run out and get your bags and pillows, i’ll be back.” joe says and jogs back to the car.

“so, how are you feeling?” robin asks as she sits a couple spots down on the couch.

“a bit tired, sore of course. otherwise, i think really good.” you say and she smiles.

“was he a good help for you while you were in labor? i know he isn’t exactly the best in fast and serious situations like that. on the field, yes. otherwise, maybe not.” robin jokes about her son.

“he was great. he was there if i needed water or a hand to squeeze. i couldn’t have asked for a better person to go through this with.” you say and robin smiles.

“what was her weight? she’s so tiny.” jim asks.

“seven pounds, nine ounces and she’s eighteen inches long.” you say as joe comes back into the house.

“she’s a tiny thing, isn’t she?” joe says.

“she’s not even a ten pound weight!” jim says.

once baby girl had eaten, you tested out her swing for the first time while you two ate. you knew that you had a couple minutes between feedings and diaper changes to eat so you took advantage of it.

but the second joe noticed that she was squirming, sticking her tongue out, and slowly blinking her eyes, she was awake and awaiting a change. he wanted her in something warmer now so he let you eat while he took her up to her nursery for the first time to change her.

“here you are baby girl, this is your room.” he whispers to her as he tries his best to show her around. her eyes are trying to take in everything as they slowly open and close. she was making a squeaky, grunting noise as joe talked to her. whether she was making a mess of her diaper or she was just making noises, joe knew she was still the cutest little thing he’d ever seen.

joe lies her down on the changing table and makes sure she is okay on it. he leans down to grab a diaper and a pack of wipes, cracking open a brand new pack.

while taking off her onesie, he is careful of her slowly shriveling umbilical cord.

“you’re going to be cold for a second but i’ll warm you back up as soon as i can, i promise.” joe says as he is focusing on being as careful as possible.

his suspicions on her noises earlier were correct. that’s what happens when you feed a baby though.

eventually, joe cleans her up perfectly and gets her dressed in a pink, long-sleeved onesie that had tiny purple flowers covering it. he grabbed a tiny pair of purple pants to match and he slides them on her. stepping over to a different section on the changing table, he grabs a swaddle and swaddles her.

he admired the work he has officially done all on his own for the first time and smiles.

“all done my little girl.” joe says and picks her up and holds her close to him.

he turns the light off and closes the door behind him. making his way down stairs, his mom was there to check on him.

“everything go okay?” she asks.

“couldn’t have been better.” joe says with a smile.

“she hasn’t cried once since being home.” robin says as she watches her son as he slowly descends the stairs.

“i think we’ve only heard her cry like four times these last couple days.” you say and robin looks in your direction.

“were you an easy baby? this one here cried any chance he got, even if he was just bored.” jim says.

“i’m not too sure. i never heard much of me being trouble but hey, you never know.” you say and he laughs.

“can i hold her?” robin finally asks as joe was now on flat ground and not paranoid of flying down the stairs with a newborn in his arms.

“of course. all i ask is for anyone who holds her, is to wash their hands before they touch her.” you say and robin immediately agrees.

“got it.” robin says and goes to the kitchen to wash her hands.

she was there for a good second, thoroughly washing her hands. behind her stood jim who was also ready to wash his hands.

this was how the next couple days went. lots of handwashing, lots of cuddling, plenty of naps, and tons of help from joe’s parents.

“we did the same when the other grand-babies were born, it’s only right to continue the tradition.” jim says as they were packing up their things to let the new parents enjoy themselves.

reality really hit when baby girl was experiencing her first bout of gas. you and joe came to conclusion that her burping sessions needed to be longer and if that wasn’t helping, then they needed to speak to her pediatrician. they had an appointment coming up soon anyways.

but when joe had pulled a tip from one of the many books he read, they started feeding her at a different angle and thoroughly burping her, then massaging her stomach. the gas worries soon slipped away and she was relaxed any time either one of you did the routine with her.

view all 265 comments…

bengals what size does she want her jersey in?

↳ joeyb_9 0-3 months is her go to. she might want it baggy though so maybe 3-6

↳ bengals new baby jerseys on the way 🫡

y/n.burrow baby fingers! 🥲

user.nine is that lyrics from “little bird” 😭

↳user.twelve OMG I THINK IT IS

lahjay_10 i think she should be our team captain the way she screams at certain plays

↳ joeyb_9 you’re right, i’m booking an appointment with the front office right now

GIRL TALK!

>>> With this being his first born, Joe Burrow, Quarterback for the Cincinnati Bengals, was even more excited to welcome in the new family member once him and his wife found out they were having a little girl.

Burrow’s wife, Y/N Burrow, was the first one to announce the news through an Instagram post of the two holding up a miniature version of her husbands jersey. She captioned the post, ‘The Cincinnati Bengals select… Baby Girl Burrow, due in 2026, Newborn University.”

We sat down with Burrow himself to ask him some adorable questions about their new addition!

Q: What is your favorite memory from the last few weeks?

A: “Probably bringing her home. It made the whole journey feel real. The feeling of having her home is very special and the joy between all three of us is immense.”

Q: How has the team adapted to you bringing on a new member?

A: “They all love her and I am so thankful that she has the chance to experience such a unique type of love from them. She is definitely a key to our motivation and a special type of thanks to those who find her screaming cute- she’s definitely a talkative baby.”

Q: Would you want her playing sports like you did growing up? If so, which sport would best suit her?

A: “Maybe. Only if she wants to. I think the social aspect would be good for her as it is for anyone else. I see her playing some basketball. if she picks up my height and her mom’s precision, we might just have a star on our hands. even if she doesn’t play any sports, she’s still a star in our eyes.”

Q: Lastly, if you were in need of a babysitter so you and your wife could go baby-free for the night, who would you call first?

A: “Probably Ja’Marr. He has that instinct and experience. If he’s busy or even going out with us, then probably Mike or Trey. If we need to, I’d call Tee and they can “Three Men and a Baby” it for the night.”

i feel like joe would be way more self kept when it comes to big things like having a baby so this is way out of the norm lol. i still thought the idea was cute and if you want a part two for the readers version, just let me know :)

#joe burrow #nfl #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow x reader #fanfic #joe burrow x y/n #pick a fic!#burreauxoxo pick a fic!

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iwantazzifudd · 2 days ago

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Hi friends, this is my first ever attempt at writing anything here and it’s a Pazzi oneshot, I’m honestly nervous that it’s bad but I’ve been inspired 🤗 it’s also my first attempt at any fiction writing in general and why was this actually a bit difficult?!

PaigexAzzi fluff

Surprise!

Paige was trying her best to not freak out about the lack of messages from Azzi today but it was just so odd.. they always spoke and made time for each other even when the had to be away.

Paige tried to tell herself that Az was probably just busy, but she couldn’t help but pace around her room wondering if she did something wrong. Or worse, wondering if Azzi met a cooler California girl during her brief trip to the state.

She knew that she was irrational to think that way but just as she started to get out of her head and message her girlfriend, she realized that Azzi had stopped sharing her location, and that’s what officially sent Paige over the edge. She couldn’t tell if she should be sad or angry, so she chooses the latter and makes it the rest of her teammates problems.

Kk, Ice and Sarah had all agreed to stay over for the week Azzi would be gone to give Paige some company, and to spend some quality time with the older girl. Today though they maybe regretting staying the entire week. When The blonde stepped out of her room the girls immediately realized something was wrong, and they shared a worried look.

“Hey boogers everything alright” KK asked hesitantly, scared of making Paige even more upset. “Peachy.” Paige responded shortly. “All of you do me a favor and check Azzi’s location” this request just made the other girls even more worried. “Mm looks like she turned it off” and when ice saw the look in Paige’s eye she immediately regretted being the one to answer.

Paige nodded, nervously nibbling at lip in response. “Where the hell is she at?” the crack in her voice betrayed the cold front she tried to put on. Inside her mind was on a rampage tossing over ideas of where the curly haired girl may be and why she needed to be so secretive.

Saying nothing else to her teammates, she grabbed a jacket and headed out of the apartment. Needing some space, some air, anything to get her mind off of Azzi.

It’s not that she didn’t trust her girlfriend, in fact if there was any person in the world she could trust with her life it would be Azzi. She just couldn’t help but think the worse, and Azzi having not messaged her back in hours didn’t help her case.

…

Azzi, not knowing what her best friend was going through, was thrilled on the other hand. She was so excited to surprise Paige a few days early. With them being on the same team and seeing each other at almost every moment surprises were impossible so Azzi had to make sure Paige didn’t see this one coming. ‘I don’t see why she’d check my location anyway’ the girl thought to herself (though she knew that Paige frequently did) , so she turned it off and got on her long flight back without a second thought.

It had barely been 4 days since Azzi had seen her girlfriend but she just couldn’t wait any longer.

She had to fly out to LA for a new very impressive shoe deal with Steph Curry, doing all types of shoots and interviews for her favorite NIL deal yet. It meant more than just a simple deal to her though with Steph being a great mentor, she had little to no trouble agreeing to designing her own shoe.

But throughout the whole thing as special as it may of been Azzi just wanted to fly back to her girlfriend. 4 mornings not spent waking up in Paige’s arms was way too much for her.

She called the blonde everyday she was gone, and honestly she would talk to her every second if she could, but she was always worried about being too clingy and scaring Paige away, although there was no way that’d ever happen.So on the fifth day Azzi didn’t call Paige, she kept their texts short and tried to stay patient, knowing that she’d be back home with her early that morning.She got on her flight and dreamed about Paige the whole way through. Although two days early wasn’t much she was longing to see her beautiful girlfriend.

…

Distracting herself from thoughts of Azzi had proven to be impossible. She saw the peoples princess in everything, even the soft breeze of wind made her think of the long walks they’d take filled with lingering touches. She thought of the way the brown eyed girls hair danced in the wind, and the pink tint her cheeks took in the cold. Azzi was in everything. And how could she not be? When you know someone so purely, so closely for 8 years they become everywhere.

She just wish she knew where Azzi was at, anything to clear her thoughts. When she sent a few more texts, and even a call or a few to be clear, that went to voicemail she finally let the emotions take over. She knew she was over reacting just a bit but this just wasn’t them. Paige knows her girlfriend better than any one. They never kept secrets from each other and always always, always gave reassurance to one another. So Paige just didn’t get it.

She walked her way back to the apartment building and instead of going to her room she decided to go into Azzi’s instead. Paige had a spare key to the place and made herself at home. Honestly most people thought it was strange that they still had different apartments considering the fact that they spent every night together anyway.

The blonde girl made her way to Azzi’s bed wanting nothing but to be enveloped in her scent. She was exhausted from thinking and most of all just really missed her girlfriend.

She sent the absent girl one last text before drifting to sleep.

P 💗💍: just tell me that we’re okay Az please.

…

When Azzi got of her flight at around 3 am she didn’t expect her phone to flood with notifications. She had received a total of 7 missed calls and god knows how many messages from her concerned girlfriend all during her flight.

P💗💍: Hey baby Ik you’re probably busy but call me soon k? I miss u

P💗💍: just saw your interview you looked so beautiful

P💗💍: what else u gotta do today bby??

P💗💍: wya??

P💗💍:Azzi?

P💗💍: dude and your locations off what am I supposed to think rn

P💗💍: you mad at me?

P💗💍: Az please baby it’s been hours and nothing, not even one text back

P 💗💍: just tell me that we’re okay Az please.

The last message is what really broke Azzi’s heart a bit. Paige was so upset. She didn’t know attempting a surprise would cause all of this. She even received numerous messages from her teammates about how Paige was doing.

“Shit” Azzi said to herself hoping that when Paige saw her she’d still be excited. The younger girl was mad at herself for not thinking this part through more and coming up with an excuse so her girlfriend could relax. She was even hurt for a moment that Paige implied she could be cheating, but even more than that she hated that Paige thought she did something wrong.

She had to get home quick.

…

When Azzi finally reached Paige’s apartment she wasn’t expecting to see her 3 teammates on the couch binge watching yellow jackets, but no Paige.

“Oh my gosh Azzi!!” Kk jumped up from her position on the couch oddly excited to see Azzi giving her a bear hug. “Hey KK” she giggled at the girls antics but she was disappointed that there was no Paige in sight. “Ugh finally we’re so glad you’re here Paige was panicking. Why are you back so early?” Ice asked. “Well I planned on surprising my girl but.. obviously there were some flaws in my execution” “where is she by the way” Azzi asked expectantly becoming worried at her girlfriend’s absence.

“Oh, um - so she sorta left on a walk earlier and hasn’t come back to the apartment” their third teammate Sarah chimed in.

“She what?? You guys?!” Azzi became frantic.

“And no one thought to check in on her, or see where she was at?” Azzi’s questions were only met with guilty stares from the eyes in front of her.

“Jesus” she rubbed her palm down her face.

“I’ll find her, love you guys” and she left to her apartment without a glance back to them.

She was shocked to find the door to her apartment unlocked, and her bedroom door slightly cracked open. She crept towards the door suddenly paranoid and slowly opened it. Her heart melted when she saw her stunning girlfriend cuddling a pillow on her side of the bed. She slipped in beside the girl setting the gifts she got her down, and whether she meant to or not, she fell asleep spooning her.

Azzi woke up before Paige and spent the time admiring her girlfriends face peacefully sleeping. The anticipation made it hard to be patient though and soon the curly haired girl found her self gently shaking Paige awake.

“Hi baby” Azzi whispered shyly as if they hadn’t woken up like this a million times now. “Is that really you Az?” Paige responded groggily. Azzi chose to respond to this by pressing feather light kisses all around the sleepy girls face.

Paige finally fully opening her eyes is shocked to see the person she loves most face to face with her “what’re you doing here so early” she whispered as if talking any louder would make Azzi disappear. “Just couldn’t resist you I guess” Azzi responded teasingly, a small smile spreading across her face. It was that smile that she could recognize anywhere, the one meant only for Paige and the soft moments they shared that fully woke Paige up and she reached for the girl desperately pulling her on top of her in a tight hug. She caught Azzi off guard but it only took a moment for the girls to melt into each other.

They stayed just like that holding each other for a long time, neither of them wanting the moment to end. Azzi finally broke the two apart and sat up straddling the blondes hips. Beaming down at her. Paige stared back in awe, at the same time realizing that the brown eyed girl was only acting weird the day before because she wanted to surprise her. “You’re such a dork” Paige said to her girlfriend but she couldn’t hide the smile stuck on her face.

“Shush you missed me” her Azzi responded teasingly leaning down so her face was closer to Paige’s.

“Says who” the blonde replied back with a glimmer in her blue eyes. “ says every part of you” Azzi said against her lips, connecting them in a deep kiss. It was the type that made Paige’s brain fuzzy as she drowned in everything Azzi. Azzi parted her lips letting Paige in and grinding down against her. Paige moaned into the girls mouth due to the friction. Her whole body heating up. She arched into Azzi desperate for more. The younger girl broke the kiss with knowing smirk, happy to be home.

#azzi fudd #pazzi #paige bueckers #pazzi fics

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delilahsturniolo · 2 days ago

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— ୨୧ purple lace bra . . . c.s

in which . . . you show chris a new bra of yours

warnings . . . pet names, suggestive themes, sensual tension, mild language, no actual smut but it is mentioned, kissing, teasing.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

SO CLOSE TO WHAT WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #6

the city hums softly outside your window, neon signs flickering against the rain-damp streets. inside, the room is warm, dimly lit by the candle you lit earlier, the scent of vanilla and lavender lingering in the air. the record player spins in the corner, playing something slow, something that makes the air between you and chris feel heavier, charged.

chris leans against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you with that smirk that always gets under your skin. his eyes flicker down to the oversized button-down shirt you’re wearing…his shirt. it’s unbuttoned just enough for him to see the deep violet lace underneath, delicate, intricate. new. you know he notices.

“trying to kill me, babe?” chris’s voice is rough, teasing, but there’s something else in it, something dark and wanting. you glance at him through the mirror, fingers lazily playing with your hair. “what? can’t a girl dress up for herself?”

chris pushes off the frame and closes the space between you, his hands finding your hips, thumbs grazing the lace beneath the fabric. “dress up?” he murmurs against your ear. “or dress down?” chris joked, slightly lifting up the end of your dress.

a breathy laugh escapes you, but your body betrays you, melting into him. the tension between you has been simmering all night, first starting at dinner when his hand rested a little too high on your thigh under the table, when his gaze lingered on your lips as you sipped your wine.

chris’s fingers trail down your spine, sending a shiver through you. “this new?” he asks, his voice lower now, rougher. you nod, turning in his arms to face him. “maybe.” your fingers play with the collar of his shirt, sliding lower to undo the top button. “figured you’d like it.”

chris chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he pulls you closer. “you figured right.” his lips brush your jaw, slow and deliberate, his hands tightening their grip on you. “you drive me crazy, you know that?”

“i know.”

chris lips find yours, and the kiss is slow, deep—like a promise. his hands slide lower, gripping the backs of your thighs, lifting you onto the dresser behind you. the wood is cool against your skin, a contrast to the heat pooling between you.

you hook your legs around his waist, pulling chris impossibly closer, his body fitting against yours like he was made for this. he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip in a teasing manner. “you’re so damn beautiful,” chris murmurs, and the way he says it makes you feel like he’s not just talking about how you look—he means all of you.

your hands slide into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. “then show me.”

and he does.

the night stretches long, the world outside disappearing until all that exists is chris—his hands, his lips, the way he learns every inch of you like he never wants to forget. lace and linen fall away, barriers crumbling. and when the first light of dawn spills through the blinds, painting soft golden lines across his bare skin, you lay tangled in his arms, his fingers tracing slow circles against your back.

he presses a lazy kiss to your temple, his voice thick with sleep. “you’re trouble.” you smirk against his chest, fingers ghosting over his skin. “and yet, you keep coming back.” his arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer. his lips brush your forehead as he whispers, “always.”

and as your eyes flutter shut, you believe him.

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veneralice · 23 hours ago

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art credit to @0309Miaa on X ! all credit to the artist!

divider by @cafekitsune ! all credit to the original creator of the divider!

afternoon delights | rafayel

after a long day of wanderer-hunting, all you want to do is unwind and relax for a bit. luckily enough, your boyfriend rafayel, king of sloth, knows just how to achieve that. (2.5k words)

content warnings: some suggestive jokes, some very little making out, in general just some tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship with raf :)

“My daaaarling.” The sing-songy voice of one particular fish-boyfriend rings throughout the apartment. He manages to overpower even the sound of the show you’ve put on, the TV losing its battle to one noisy Rafayel almost immediately. You bow forwards, almost falling face-first into the coffee table, but you manage to regain your balance and grasp the remote as you intended to. The show clicks off in the same moment as your beautiful boyfriend pokes his head into the living room. “My beloved bodyguard, I’ve been texting you all day! Why haven’t you answered?”

You made a non-committal gesture to the scene around you. There were blankets everywhere, hastily pulled out off the cabinet they were usually stored in, and the coffee table was littered with the traces of snacks and drinks. This is your first weekend off in a really long time, and your revenge procrastination had hit you like a train. You’d spent the day doing absolutely nothing, detaching from the world like a monk in meditation. “Been busy,” comes your non-descriptive answer. “So you’ve decided to break in my home just because I didn’t answer my phone?”

Rafayel dramatically throws his hands up, his features twitched into an expression of mock-distress. It makes you smile, the kind of smile only he can coax out of you. “Well, you could have died. I don’t know that. I can’t read minds, you know.”

“Sure, Raf. I missed you, too.”

That was the right answer. Rafayel hummed in satisfaction, moving through the chaos of your living room to plop down beside you on your trusty couch. It was the nicest piece of furniture you owned, a real treasure you had managed to scavenge on a vintage hunt with Rafayel. As Rafayel is a painter who always looked for a new source of inspiration, you’ve undertaken lots of adventures together, with most of them unearthing some of the best secret spots the world had to offer. It’s not the couch that entices Rafayel, though. He drops himself into your lap and curls into your there, his pretty mouth dropping open into a yawn. For someone who claimed to hate cats, he sure loved to act like one. “Well, fear not,” he proclaims, a silly smile of his own stretching out on his lips as he makes himself comfortable. “Your savior is here. I, Rafayel, have come to rescue you from the tangles of boredom.”

You swipe your hands over the curls of Rafayel’s seablue-hair, the softness of it always reminding you over the expensive silk he likes to wear so much. He leans into it, chasing your touch as always. “How grateful I am,” you quip, playing into the joke. You let him wrap his arms around your middle, jumping only a little when he buries his face in your tummy. He tends to do that a lot. “And how exactly do you mean to do that? By joining me in my boredom? I’m on season three of Yellowjackets, if that’s of any interest to you.”

“No cannibalism today, beloved.” The rumbling of the spoken words makes you laugh involuntarily, turning away from his tickling mouth. “Not if you intend to eat to me, which I definitely wouldn’t argue against. I’d make a mean sushi boat.”

“Christ.” Your tone is mildly alarmed. “Let’s maybe not talk about turning my beautiful boyfriend into food.”

“Noooo? Why not?” Rafayel angles his face upwards, jutting his lower lip out in faux offense. As if your answer had been an insult. He’s always quick to ignore a compliment if it means getting his way. “Are you saying I wouldn’t be tasty?”

You put your hand to his forehead and shake him, as if that can loosen the stupidity from his brain and make it tumble outside his elf-like ears. He makes an indignant noise, leaning away to escape you, then drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Typical.

After some light-hearted banter and a series of kisses that stops Rafayel’s wailing of the oh, so agonizing pain the fall had inflicted on him, you’ve managed to tuck Rafayel into a matching pyjama you’d bought for him. It was one of those couple things you’d never have thought you’d indulge in. But ever since you saw how the simple act of having matching toothbrushes had managed to paint the most beautiful happy smile onto his face, you’ve quickly been mixed up in his soppiness.

Listen. It’s not like you can look into those cotton-candy eyes and not immediately have the urge to fulfill every wish Rafayel could ever think of. He’s deadly, I’m telling you.

Which is how you end up barefoot in the kitchen, Rafayel’s lanky frame draped over your own as you prepare some mocha for you both to enjoy. Since Rafayel has a sweet tooth, and you’re obsessed with caffeine, turkish coffee was a sort of common ground for you both. It’s almost become tradition to put on the kettle to prepare it whenever Rafayel comes over, since you tend to stay in his ginormous house. Rafayel nuzzles his face into your throat, sighing into the vulnerable flesh there. “Did you take a bath without me?” he questions, his accusatory tone making you shake with laughter.

“Course not, fishie. Do you think me a traitor?”

“Hmm. Sometimes you are.” He flicks a stray curl of hair from your face aside, then changes his mind and instead gently tucks it behind your ear. Although unwillingly, Rafayel then unwraps himself from you, choosing to lean against the counter so he can look in your face while you prepare the coffee. He once told you that staring at you was his second favorite pastime of the day.

When you had asked him what his favorite pastime was, he’d looked at you as if you had just admitted to being an idiot. Kissing you, of course, he had said.

There was a certain rhythm to your free days, to the point where it feels distressing not to go through the motions with Rafayel. There was a quiet kind of joy of being at the point of a relationship with him where even the simple moments are the most treasured part of your day. Bath time was one of those things. Of course, it was impossible to share all your baths with Rafayel, since the merman in your kitchen seemed to never leave his bathroom. But bath time on your free days were holy. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” you scoff at him, your deft fingers transferring the prepared mocha into two sets of delicate tea cups. “I really should just go back and drain the bath I already prepared, since you looooove to doubt me.”

“No!” Rafayel straightens up immediately. It was like telling him he wasn’t allowed to paint. The man was impossible. “I take it all back, my love, my kind-hearted darling. Of course I never doubted you.”

“No takebacksies. You suck.”

“You usually like it when I do that.”

You deadpan at him, straining not to laugh at the joke. He does not deserve it. “Hello.”

Rafayel only grins, placing the two cups of coffee on a tray so that he may carry them back to the living room. Thankfully, the coffee table had already been cleaned up by you during the time he had changed into the pyjamas. Your boyfriend leans forward, carefully angling the tray so nothing spills, then drops a soft but earnest kiss on your lips. “Hi,” he dumbly says back, and this time you laugh.

Thankfully, the aforementioned bath hasn’t turned tepid in the time you had spent goofing around on the couch and stealing kisses from each other like two stupid teenagers in love. Even though you’d been in a committed relationship for quite a while now, Rafayel and you were still making up for lost time, for every year Rafayel had to carve out on his own while waiting for you. In the beginning, it had almost been like a job interview, the way you had devoured information about the other, the endless questioning. And at the same time, you two weren’t the same people anymore as when you fell in love many civilizations ago. Not only because of the fact that you’d been separated, but also what the other had to experience. You knew this love was old as time, and yet it was also so exciting to fall in love anew, to rediscover what has been foretold.

Your fingers gently disentangle the few knots you can find in Rafayel’s curls, tugging at the strands in an effort to tease him. It’s a fruitless endeavor, since he’s so deeply relaxed he takes no notice. Rafayel is deeply entranced in the warmth of both your body and the water sloshing around in your meager tub. He’s so tall that he almost doesn’t fit in it as he lays in your arms, and his feet are arranged on the edge of the tub, crossed like a beach-goer splayed out in the sun. His head is pillowed against your collarbone, the soft puffs of breath indicating that he’s nearing sleep.

Only Rafayel could fall asleep in an uncomfortable bath tub like this.

“Raf,” you coo at him, squishing his soft cheek. He murmurs, but otherwise doesn’t react. Being the little spoon often does that to him. He likes a good nap everywhere, but especially when you hug him like this. It’s the safety of the embrace, the certainty that you’ll hold on to him and never let go. As someone who’s had to hold himself up for a very long time, you are eager at the chance of lessening him from that burden. “Raaaaaf. Rafayel.”

“Hmmmmm.” Rafayel only groans, turning his face to hide it. The water slops over, and you hear the confirming splash of it hitting the ground, but you don’t mind. A little mess is okay, if it means you get to enjoy these languorous hours with your boyfriend. As you snicker at the sight of him hiding himself away, he entangles his long limbs with your own, folding around you like a strait jacket. He likes to be as close as inhumanely possible, like the two of you could meld together to be one person. “Sleepy. Stop.”

You blow into his ear, and Rafayel only shudders. His arms tighten around your neck. Although Rafayel looks like a lanky kind of guy, you know there’s a sleeper build hiding beneath those muscles that could choke you out in a few seconds. Not that you’d mind that, but maybe more so in the bedroom than in a bath tub where you could drown. “Evil,” he mumbles into your skin, his warm lips causing goosebumps to flower on it. “Gonna bite you.”

“What if I bite back?”

“Got sharper teeth.”

“Point taken.” You lean back again, sinking further into the comfort of the water. Rafayel’s breath evens out. He loosens his hold on you so he can turn over and lay next to you, angling his head so that you’re face to face. He looks sleepy, but not annoyed. “You look very pretty,” you tell him then. You are rewarded with the lightest of blushes dusting across his moonlight-kissed cheeks.

Despite that shy reaction, he only answers, “Of course I am.”

You roll your eyes at him, but grin. You lean forward to pepper his pretty face with kisses, littering them everywhere your lips can reach. Rafayel’s hands engulf your waist, guiding you closer to him until you are chest to chest, and you both quieten to listen to the sound of your heartbeats syncing up. “My favorite song,” Rafayel whispers into the silence, leaning his forehead against yours.

You close your eyes, surrendering to the lullaby.

After you’ve both toweled off, and you’ve allowed Rafayel to comb through your hair (he likes the domesticity of the act), you finally crawl under the covers with him. The moon has already reached its peak in the sky, the fullness of it making the room seem like all the lights are still turned on. Rafayel stretches out in the bed, his pyjama shirt riding up to reveal a delicious peek at his soft tummy. You place your hand on it, curving around to cup his waist, then lower your head to pillow it on his chest. Rafayel’s own hands find your hair, and he begins to run his fingers through it, separating each strand to comb it anew. “How’s that for entertainment?” he yawns out, settling deeper into the comfort of the mattress.

“It’s lovely. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Hmmmmmm. Stop flattering me.” But his tone sounds self-satisfied, as if he’s proud of himself. His hands wander, massaging your tense shoulders, swiping up and down your back to illicit some warmth. “You should get under the blankets. Don’t want you to get sick. S’cold.”

You only hum in response, but do as you’re told. The bed dips beneath you as you sit up again, grabbing the soft blanket at the foot of the bed. Rafayel scoots up, pulling you backwards with him until the back of your head hits the pillows. When you’re both covered, Rafayel’s arms wind around your body and squeeze you against him like his very own teddybear. “Waited all day for this,” he sighs out, perfectly content.

“Had an exhausting day?”

“Well, we can’t all take the day off. Some of us have some pretty important contracts and commissions that we have to oblige to.”

“Raf, you’re literally horrible with deadlines. You laze around all the time.”

“Shut up, mortal.” Rafayel pokes you into the ribs, and you hiss in response. “Kiss me instead.”

“You didn’t even ask nicely!” Your answer is a complaint, and yet you immediately angle your face up to meet him in the dark. It always feels like the first time, that electric spark that jumpstarts your heart anew. You melt into the kiss, hands reaching to cup his face as he kisses you. His lips are slow and warm against yours, gently prying away all resistance until you meet in the middle, that heart-stopping tangle of tongues that makes you feel like you’re gonna explode. When he leans away, you’re glad to know it’s too dark for him to see your blushing cheeks. There’s no reason for shame, though. Rafayel’s fingers carefully caress the sides of your face, and he leans forward to peck your forehead, then your nose. “I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, slumping against you. “This is the favorite part of my day.”

“The kissing part? Or the being in bed part?”

“You have to ruin everything, don’t you?”

You can’t help yourself. You giggle quietly, wrapping yourself around Rafayel until you fold up like a package against him. He leans into the hold, cuddling you against him. “Good night, savior from my boredom,” you whisper. “Let’s do this again tomorrow.”

Rafayel’s gentle laughter follows you into your dreams, giving way to the hopes of the future, where you and Rafayel get to do this forever.

#ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ALICE IS DAYDREAMING #after the sin comes the soft ramblings about how much i love raf NSDHDHSH #rafayel #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace #lads rafayel #lads rafayel x reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader #lnds #l&ds #l&ds rafayel x reader #l&ds rafayel #lnds rafayel x reader #lnds rafayel #rafayel fanfiction #love and deepspace fanfiction

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kathlare · 15 hours ago

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Hiii, soo this is inspired by the bew dts season, maybe a compilation of amelie in dts?

Hiii!! First off, thank you so much for the request! 💕 It took me all day to put this together, and I had to rewatch some scenes to make sure I got everything just right, but here it is! I really hope you like it! 😊 Let me know what you think!

home in the chaos

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Through intimate scenes and subtle gestures, the audience witnesses the depth of their bond and the solace Amelie provides Lando in his most fragile moments.

Wordcount: 10.1 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

March 7th, 2025 - All around the world

liked by lanmelieshippers, daymanupdates, and others

f1wagsgossip: 🚨 Season 7 of Drive to Survive just dropped, and guess who’s making more appearances than expected? 👀 Amelie fans, you’re in for a treat! Looks like Lando let Netflix peek into his private life this season… and that includes plenty of moments with his Amelie. 🧡🏎️

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f1wagsupdates: Not Lando finally letting Netflix have a peek into his private life and it’s basically the Lando & Amelie Show 💀 → lanlanstan: @f1wagsupdates THIS IS WHAT WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR SINCE 2020 I’M ACTUALLY CRYING. → amesangel: @f1wagsupdates The fact that we literally manifested this from the Twitch quartet era... we won, guys.

f1girly: Amelie casually appearing in the McLaren motorhome, sitting on Lando’s pit wall, and being in his Monaco apartment like it's her job... I fear we’ve entered the “WAG era” for real. → papayagirl: @f1girly SHE WAS ALREADY THE WAG BEFORE WE KNEW SHE WAS THE WAG.

lanielover44: No bc seeing them flirting in the paddock and Lando calling her "baby" in front of the cameras??? I’m losing my mind. → f1fanatic: @lanielover44 AND THE WAY SHE CALLS HIM "LAN" LIKE IT’S THE MOST NATURAL THING IN THE WORLD 😭😭😭 → amelie4ever: @amelie4ever Bro... when he said "I’ve been in love with her since 2020, I just had to be patient" I screamed.

f1hottea: Y’all, we got fed this season. Lando's first win in Miami, Amelie running to him, the kiss... the soft launch turned hard launch.

f1zone: It’s so cute how Lando still gets all shy when Amelie compliments him. Like, bro... you're literally a world-class driver. You can’t be shy about this. 😅 → lanx_xo: @f1zone You can tell he’s still so in awe of her. Every time she praises him, he’s like a little schoolboy.

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

The scene opens with the fast-paced, dramatic cuts typical of Drive to Survive. The camera zooms in on Lando Norris, sitting in the familiar interview chair, his eyes slightly squinting against the bright lights. He leans forward, chuckling to himself before the interviewer cues him to speak.

—Lando, tell us about the nickname ‘Lando No Wins’,— the interviewer prompts, clearly aware of the lighthearted jibe that has followed Lando throughout his career.

Lando pauses for a moment, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he recalls the origins of the nickname. He leans back, clearly not taking it too seriously, but there's a hint of vulnerability in his eyes as he speaks.

—Yeah, so that nickname, "Lando No Wins"... that’s actually Amelie’s doing,— Lando begins, his voice dripping with the slight teasing tone that’s become second nature to him. He lets out a little laugh, shaking his head.

—Back during the pandemic, when we were all locked inside, we used to play a lot of video games together. A lot of them, actually. And I swear, I couldn’t win a single race against her,— he continues, his eyes narrowing in mock offense. —Every time I lost, she’d call me "Lando No Wins." It just kind of stuck. I didn’t think it would carry over to F1 though.—

He shrugs, the smile never quite leaving his face, but there's a hint of exasperation as he adds, —People somehow took it the wrong way, like it was about my F1 career or something. But it’s all in good fun. It’s Amelie’s thing. I guess I’ll just have to live with it now. The nickname’s bigger than I am at this point.—

The camera cuts away briefly, transitioning to interviews with Lando's closest friends, each of them ready to add their own spin on the infamous nickname.

First up is George Russell, sitting comfortably in his own interview chair, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. The interviewer’s question barely leaves their lips before George is already shaking his head in amusement.

—Oh, I remember that...— George begins, his usual grin widening. —She’d always roast him for it. "Lando No Wins!"— he laughs, shaking his head as if the memory was still fresh. —It was too perfect, honestly. I mean, it fits. And she knew it. Classic Amelie move. I wouldn’t be surprised if she planned it from the start, just to get under his skin. Genius, really.—

The scene shifts to Alex, who shakes his head in disbelief.

—Lando’s never lived it down, has he?— Alex says, almost sympathetically. —It was always "No Wins" this, "No Wins" that. Amelie just knew how to get him. She’s got a way of making everything fun, even if it’s at his expense. We all kind of laughed at it, but I think deep down, it was a little painful for him. But he didn’t mind, at least not too much.—

The camera cuts once again, now focusing on Charles Leclerc, who leans back in his chair, a smile tugging at his lips as he recalls the playful nickname.

—Oh, Amelie was on fire with that one, wasn't she?— Charles chuckles, shaking his head as he runs a hand through his hair. —Every time Lando would lose, it was like clockwork. "Lando No Wins." It became a thing. Honestly, though, I think she got into his head a little with it. She always knew how to get the perfect shot in, but she wasn’t malicious. It was just her humor, and I think Lando secretly kind of enjoyed it... even though he pretended not to.—

The shot cuts back to Lando, who’s shaking his head with a rueful smile. —I swear, Amelie has a way of making everything stick. I didn’t think that stupid nickname would follow me this long, but… here we are.—

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

The scene was electric. The sun hung high in the Miami sky, casting a golden hue over the paddock as the crowd roared with excitement. It was the culmination of Lando Norris’s long journey, his first-ever Formula 1 victory on the horizon.

The air buzzed with anticipation as Lando Norris navigated through the final laps of the Miami Grand Prix, his hands gripping the wheel tightly, his focus unwavering. The cheers from the crowd reverberated through the paddock as McLaren’s pit crew began to prepare for what was about to be a monumental moment in the team's history. The race clock ticked down, and with each second, the energy built to a fever pitch.

Lando’s McLaren crossed the finish line, his victory sealed. The roar of the crowd reached deafening levels as the car slowed to a halt, the team swarming the car almost immediately, their arms raised in celebration. But in that moment, as Lando unbuckled his helmet and climbed out of the car, something else caught his attention—someone else.

Amelie, standing at the edge of the pit lane, her eyes locked on him. Her body surged forward before she could even stop herself, and she cut through the sea of orange uniforms, determination in every step. The cheers, the noise, the chaos of victory faded to the background as she reached him, her eyes fixed only on Lando.

Lando, still breathing heavily from the race, met her gaze. For a split second, the world seemed to stop. The pit crew continued their celebration, but Lando was no longer part of that crowd. His focus was entirely on Amelie as she approached, pushing her way through the chaos.

Without a word, Lando pushed past his team, making his way toward her. His legs carried him faster than he had anticipated, and in mere moments, they were face-to-face. His arms found her, pulling her into an embrace.

Lando cupped her face, his thumb gently brushing away a tear before his lips crashed into hers. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t tender. It was urgent, desperate, as if they both knew how long they had waited for this moment.

When they finally pulled apart, their breaths were ragged, both of them laughing softly at the sheer intensity of the moment. Amelie wiped away the last of her tears, a smile playing on her lips as she spoke, her voice breathless.

—I didn’t plan this, Lan,— she chuckled softly, her hands still on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

Lando grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief and joy. —Guess we’re out of the secret club now, huh?— He leaned in, capturing her lips again in a much softer kiss, this one gentle, filled with warmth and tenderness.

Behind them, the McLaren team erupted into cheers, lifting Lando up on their shoulders, shouting in jubilation. But even as they celebrated, Lando’s eyes stayed locked on Amelie, as if nothing could pull him away from her. She stood there, her heart swelling with pride as she watched him held high, the victorious smile on his face forever etched in her memory.

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

The camera zoomed in on Lando, his posture relaxed but his eyes still alight with the adrenaline from the race. The unmistakable warmth of a smile tugged at his lips, though there was a reflective quietness to him now, away from the chaos of the pit and the podium. He leaned back slightly, the weight of the moment still settling in as the interview room, now more subdued than the earlier celebrations, enveloped him.

One of the crew members, a familiar face, asked the question that everyone was dying to know.

—Lando, first win. How does it feel?—

Lando leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrests. His lips curled into a soft, almost disbelieving smile as he looked into the camera.

—It’s… it’s insane,— he began, his voice a mix of disbelief and gratitude. —I mean, it’s something I’ve dreamed of for as long as I can remember. You grow up watching this, you picture yourself up there, and then it happens. And to do it with McLaren, with my team—yeah, it’s something special.— He paused for a moment, his gaze shifting as he reflected on the journey that had brought him here. —It’s been a long time coming, and now that I’ve done it, it’s just... surreal.—

There was a brief silence as he let the words sink in. The crew could tell how much this meant to him. They could hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes. But the next question was inevitable—the one everyone had been wondering about for months now.

The crew member, who had been silently observing him, cleared their throat before asking the question that everyone was eagerly waiting to hear.

—And, uh... about the kiss, Lando. How much did that moment mean to you? To have Amelie there, to have her with you after everything?—

Lando’s smile softened, a brief flash of something more personal crossing his face. He leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped together, eyes momentarily shifting as though trying to gather his thoughts. The room felt smaller suddenly, more intimate, as if he was speaking not just to the cameras, but to the people who had followed his journey from the very beginning.

—Yeah, the kiss…— Lando’s voice faltered for a second, a chuckle escaping his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck. —It was... it was everything. I’ve been working for this moment for so long, and to have her there, right after crossing the finish line… it just felt like the right thing to do, y’know? We’ve been through so much, both of us, and we’ve known each other for years, and when that moment came… I just didn’t think. I just went for it. It wasn’t about the race anymore. It was just about us.—

He paused, his eyes distant for a moment as he reflected on everything that had brought him to this point. The highs, the lows, the time apart, and the years of friendship that had built up into something more.

—I've been in love with her since 2020, honestly,— Lando admitted, his voice low but steady. —It was... hard at times. Especially when we weren’t together, when we didn’t know what we were. But I had to be patient. I had to wait for the right time. It’s funny, I always thought the moment would feel different, but it was more than I ever could’ve imagined. And to have her there with me, after everything we've been through... I wouldn’t trade that moment for anything.—

The interviewer let the silence hang in the air for a second, knowing there was more he wanted to say, but giving Lando the space to continue. The raw honesty in his words was undeniable.

—And now... it feels like everything is just falling into place, y'know? She’s been a part of my life for so long, and having her there, being able to share that moment with her, it’s… it’s perfect.—

Lando leaned back in his chair again, his eyes softening as he let out a breath, almost as if the weight of the conversation was settling on his shoulders. The interviewer, sensing the emotion behind Lando’s words, gave him a moment before asking another question, but the tone had shifted. The race, the victory, the kiss—it was clear that this win meant so much more than just a trophy for Lando. It was about love, timing, and finally getting to share the most important moments of his life with the person who had been there through it all.

The camera zoomed in slightly, capturing the vulnerability in Lando’s expression. He was no longer the confident driver in front of the cameras, the competitive athlete everyone had come to know. In this moment, he was just a man, deeply in love, reflecting on how far he’d come.

And as the interview continued, the world outside seemed to fade. This was a chapter in his life that, for once, wasn’t just about the races, the wins, or the pressure. It was about Lando and Amelie, two people who had been through everything together, now standing at the pinnacle of their dreams—both personally and professionally.

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

The streets of New York were alive with energy, the hum of the city mixing with the background chatter and the constant flow of traffic. In the backseat of a sleek black car, Lando Norris sat with his arms crossed, a relaxed but confident look on his face. The windows were slightly rolled down, allowing the cool breeze to cut through the warm evening air. It was a stark contrast to the adrenaline-fueled chaos of the race weekend he had just experienced.

Lando spoke into the camera, his voice calm but filled with a quiet intensity.

—Winning, it’s... it’s a drug,— he began, his eyes focused out the window, reflecting on the past few days. —Success is a drug. I mean, once you’ve tasted it, you just want more. It’s like that feeling you get when you know exactly what to do, when everything clicks. And right now? I’ve got that confidence, you know? That feeling that everything’s falling into place.—

His voice was steady, the weight of his words clear. The highs of the Miami Grand Prix were still fresh, lingering in his mind, and the euphoria of his first-ever victory had not faded. He wasn’t just talking about the race; it was more than that. It was a reflection of how far he had come, not just as a driver, but as a person.

As he finished speaking, the car slowed to a stop. Lando’s gaze shifted toward the tinted windows.

—Let’s wait for my princess,— he said, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

The camera cut away from him just as the car door opened, and in an instant, Amelie stepped into the frame. She slid into the car with a grace that was almost effortless, her presence adding a softness to the hard edges of the racing world around them. She smiled at Lando as she settled beside him, the two of them exchanging a look that said more than words ever could.

Lando glanced at her, his expression shifting from the confident, reflective mood he had just been in to something more relaxed, more at ease.

Amelie slid into the backseat beside Lando, her smile lighting up the car as she greeted him with a soft peck on the lips. The moment was warm, intimate, a stark contrast to the world outside the car’s tinted windows. She let out a light chuckle before turning toward the camera, her tone playful.

—Hi, Netflix,— she said with a wink, her voice full of warmth and charm.

Lando grinned at her, his eyes flicking between Amelie and the camera. There was something magnetic about the way they looked at each other, a connection that had been built over years of friendship and a few months of something more. The playful banter between them was effortless, the kind of chemistry that had made fans root for them since their early days as friends.

As the car pulled back into motion, Lando leaned back against the seat, his arms casually resting on the edge, eyes still on Amelie.

—So...— he teased, his voice light but filled with the same confidence he had spoken about earlier. —How does it feel to watch your boyfriend finally win?—

Amelie rolled her eyes, playfully nudging him with her shoulder as she settled in beside him.

—Oh, please, don’t start,— Amelie laughed, a teasing glint in her eyes. —I’ve been waiting for this day for ages, you know that.— She shrugged dramatically, her tone playful but full of affection.

The camera crew, anticipating the playful energy between them, zoomed in on Lando as he raised an eyebrow at Amelie. The streets of New York stretched out before them, their journey just a part of the whirlwind that had been his first-ever win, but with Amelie by his side, the moment seemed to slow down.

—Oh, really?— Lando grinned, his voice laced with a hint of mischief. —So you were just waiting to see if I’d ever make it, huh? That’s what it was all about?—

Amelie chuckled, shaking her head.

—Not quite,— she teased, crossing her arms with a mock pout. —I knew you’d do it eventually, but you sure took your sweet time.— She smiled warmly at him, and the affection between them was evident, even in the playful jabs they threw back and forth.

Lando let out a small laugh before leaning in closer to her, his tone turning softer, more sincere.

—It feels... different, you know? All that waiting, all the pressure, the expectations, now, it’s like everything's changed. But it’s worth it. And having you here to share it with me, to celebrate it... yeah, that makes it even better.—

Amelie’s smile softened, and she reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. The cameras zoomed in on their intertwined fingers, the connection between them unmistakable.

—You deserve it, Lan,— she said quietly, her voice tender. —All of it. I’ve always believed in you.—

Lando’s eyes flickered with gratitude, and he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze in return. But before the moment could linger too long, a familiar teasing voice broke the silence from the front of the car.

—So, about that kiss...— the cameraman said, unable to resist the opportunity to poke fun at the pair. —You two seemed pretty... into it. How did that feel, Lando? A little victory kiss, huh?—

Amelie let out a laugh, her eyes sparkling as she turned to Lando.

—Oh, now you’ve done it,— she said, her voice playful but with an edge of mock seriousness. —He’s been insufferable ever since. Just wait until you hear him tell the story of the kiss 100 times, because he’s going to do that now. Isn’t that right, Lan?—

Lando rolled his eyes dramatically, laughing along with Amelie.

—What can I say? It was a great kiss,— he said with a wink, his tone dripping with playful arrogance. —And I’ll be happy to tell the story as many times as you want.—

Amelie shook her head, but the fondness in her eyes was clear.

—You’re terrible, you know that?— she said, leaning back into the seat.

Lando shrugged, his grin never fading.

—It’s my first win, I’ve earned it. And I think it’s only right that everyone hears about the celebration. It was pretty unforgettable.—

As the car made its way through the bustling streets, Lando and Amelie continued to tease each other, their easy chemistry filling the space around them. The world outside seemed distant, the noise and chaos of New York blending into a soft hum. Inside the car, it was just the two of them—two people who had been through so much, now sharing this moment of victory, laughter, and love.

The camera cut away, but the smile on Lando’s face and the glow in Amelie’s eyes lingered, the perfect snapshot of a victory that was about so much more than just the race.

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

The camera angle shifted, capturing the interior of a sleek car as it sped through the quiet streets. Lando was behind the wheel, the focus on him as he casually navigated the traffic, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. Amelie sat in the passenger seat, her focus on her phone as she sipped from a coffee cup in her hand, the warm liquid still steaming.

Lando’s voice broke the silence as he glanced over at Amelie, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

—You know, I was kind of expecting a text from Max after Austria, apologizing for the whole... situation, but of course, nothing. Not even a ‘sorry.’— His voice was casual, though the slight bitterness in his tone betrayed his lingering frustration.

Amelie looked up from her phone, raising an eyebrow at him.

—Really? You thought Max would apologize?— she teased, the faintest smirk appearing on her face.

Lando chuckled, shaking his head.

—Well, yeah, I mean, I thought after everything that went down, it would be the decent thing to do, right? But apparently, that’s asking too much.— He shrugged, his eyes focusing back on the road.

As he turned a corner, Amelie shifted in her seat, trying to adjust her position with one hand while still balancing her iced coffee in the other. A moment of clumsiness—and then, without warning, the cup slipped from her grasp.

The camera zoomed in on the slow-motion disaster as the coffee flew out of her hand, splashing across the center console, onto the seat, and all over Lando’s pristine car. Amelie’s eyes widened in panic, her voice rising as she gasped.

—Oh my god, I’m so sorry!— she exclaimed, quickly trying to blot the mess with her sleeve.

Lando let out a sharp breath, his eyes flicking from the road to the spill, and then back to Amelie.

—You’ve got to be kidding me, Ames,— he said, a mixture of surprise, annoyance, and affection in his voice. —Not again.—

He wasn’t yelling, but there was no hiding the frustration in his tone. He quickly swerved into the nearest pull-off, the car coming to a stop as he stared at the damage.

Amelie was visibly flustered, scrambling to find something—anything—to clean it up.

Amelie’s face was flushed with embarrassment as she frantically tried to mop up the mess, but the spill was far too much for a simple sleeve to handle. Her hands were shaking slightly, the panic evident in her eyes as she looked over at Lando.

—Lando, I swear I didn’t mean to... I’m so sorry!— she stammered, her voice a mix of guilt and distress.

Lando sighed, running a hand through his curls as he glanced at the mess. For a moment, the tension hung heavy in the air. The camera captured Amelie’s frantic movements as she searched for napkins, her hands shaking slightly as she tried to wipe the coffee off the console.

—I’m so sorry, Lan. I didn’t mean to, I swear— Amelie stammered, her voice filled with genuine panic.

Lando looked at her, and for a split second, his frustration softened. The camera caught the shift in his expression—the moment when annoyance gave way to something much deeper.

He reached out, gently placing his hand over hers to stop her from scrambling.

—Hey, hey... Ames, it’s fine,— he said softly, his tone shifting to something far more tender. —It’s just coffee. You’re okay.—

Amelie looked up at him, her eyes wide and full of guilt.

—But your car...—

Lando let out a small laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back in his seat.

—Honestly? I should’ve seen this coming. You’ve done this, what... four times now?— he teased, a playful smirk forming on his lips.

Amelie groaned, covering her face with her hands as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

—Stop. Don’t remind me.—

Lando chuckled and reached over to gently pull her hands away from her face.

—I knew what I was signing up when I started dating you,— he said with a soft grin. —And... I wouldn’t change it. Even if it means sacrificing my car's interior every once in a while.—

Amelie couldn’t help but laugh, her anxiety slowly melting away as she met his eyes.

—You’re way too nice to me, you know that?—

—Yeah, well... you’re my little chaos.— Lando replied with a shrug.

The camera lingered on the moment, capturing the warmth between them. Lando reached into the glove compartment, pulling out some old napkins and handing them to her.

—Come on, let’s clean this up before Netflix makes this my entire storyline this season,— he joked, earning another laugh from Amelie as she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

The car rolled back onto the road a few minutes later, the coffee incident already forgotten—just another chaotic memory in the story of Lando and Amelie.

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

The camera cuts to the dimly lit interior of a car as it glides through the streets of Singapore. The city's neon lights reflect off the tinted windows, casting a soft glow on Lando Norris, who sits in the backseat, phone in hand.

The camera zooms in on his screen, revealing a familiar face—Amelie, her hair tied back in a messy bun, sitting in what appears to be a hotel room somewhere. The background noise of her team moving around is faint, drowned out by her soft voice and the quiet hum of the car engine.

—Hey, rockstar,— Lando greets her with a grin, leaning back against the leather seat.

Amelie smiles, her eyes lighting up despite the exhaustion from her tour schedule.

—Hey, champ. You look... tired,— she teases, though her voice carries that familiar warmth.

Lando chuckles, running a hand through his curls.

—Yeah, well... Singapore humidity is brutal. Plus, you know, the whole ‘trying not to die under the lights’ thing.—

Amelie laughs softly, the sound echoing through the speakers.

—You’ll be fine. You always are. You're fast here.—

There’s a pause, a comfortable silence between them as Lando’s eyes soften.

—How's tour?—

Amelie sighs, glancing around her hotel room.

—Exhausting. But... good. I miss you, though. And... it's my birthday soon.— She tries to say it casually, but there’s a hint of something vulnerable in her voice.

Lando’s smile falters just slightly, guilt flashing across his face. The camera captures the moment, his internal struggle evident.

—I know...— Lando says quietly, his voice filled with regret. —I wish I could be there, Ames. I really do. But with Singapore and Japan right after... it’s just... impossible.—

Amelie forces a small smile, nodding in understanding.

—I get it. I mean... this is what we signed up for, right?— she says, trying to sound lighthearted.

But the weight of it hangs between them. Two people chasing dreams on opposite sides of the world, sacrificing moments that most couples take for granted. The camera lingers on Lando’s face as he looks down, the frustration evident.

—It still sucks, though,— he admits, his voice softer now.

Amelie’s expression softens.

—Yeah... it does.—

For a moment, neither of them speaks. The only sound is the hum of the car and the faint noise from Amelie’s hotel room. The distance feels heavier than ever.

—But... I’m proud of you, you know?— Amelie says, breaking the silence. —You’re doing what you’ve always dreamed of. And I wouldn’t want you anywhere else but on that grid this weekend.—

Lando’s lips curl into a sad smile.

Lando's eyes soften at her words, but the weight in his chest remains.

—I'm proud of you too, Ames. You're out there living your dream. I just... wish I could be with you to celebrate. You deserve more than a FaceTime call.—

Amelie smiles softly, her eyes glistening for a brief moment before she shakes it off.

—We'll celebrate when we're both back home. Or... when we're in the same country, at least,— she jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

Lando chuckles, but the sadness lingers beneath.

A knock on Amelie's door interrupts their moment. She glances toward the noise and sighs.

—That's my cue. I need to shower before soundcheck.—

Lando nods, forcing a smile.

—Go be brilliant, baby.—

Amelie hesitates for a second before speaking, her voice soft.

—I love you, Lan.—

Lando's heart tightens at the words.

—I love you too, Ames. Always.—

They linger on the line for a beat longer before Amelie hangs up. The screen goes dark, and the camera shifts back to Lando, who stares at his phone for a moment, lost in thought.

The city lights blur through the window as the car moves through the streets, but Lando's mind is elsewhere.

Then, almost without hesitation, he pulls out his phone again and opens his airline app. The camera zooms in as he searches for a last-minute flight to Toronto — the next stop on Amelie's tour.

The confirmation screen flashes, and Lando books the ticket without a second thought.

The camera cuts to Lando leaning back in his seat, a small, almost mischievous smile playing on his lips.

—Screw the jet lag,— he mutters to himself.

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

The screen cuts to the familiar, dimly lit interview room — the iconic black backdrop with the faint hum of production equipment in the background.

Lando Norris sits in the center of the frame, wearing his McLaren team shirt, his usual cheeky grin replaced by something more thoughtful. The camera captures the subtle shift in his demeanor, the weight of the season evident in the way his fingers fidget with the cap in his hands.

—You know... it happened kind of... out of nowhere, really,— he starts, glancing off to the side as he reflects. —I mean, last year I was fighting for podiums. And now, suddenly... I’m fighting for a world championship.—

The camera lingers on him as he exhales, the pressure written all over his face.

—It’s everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve dreamed of. But... it’s a lot.— He chuckles lightly, though there’s a tension behind it. —The pressure, the expectation... it gets to you. It really does.—

The producers let the silence hang for a moment, allowing viewers to sit with the vulnerability of the moment. Then, Lando’s expression softens slightly, a small smile playing on his lips.

—But... Amelie...— he trails off, the mere mention of her name shifting his entire energy. —She kind of... keeps me grounded. Keeps me from spiraling when things get too overwhelming.—

He looks down, almost shy about admitting it on camera.

—She doesn’t care about the racing, the points, the headlines. I mean, she supports me, of course... but to her, I’m just... Lando.— He grins, his eyes lighting up at the memory.

The camera cuts to a brief montage of Amelie in the McLaren garage, laughing with Lando’s engineers, cheering from the pit wall, and sneaking a quick kiss with him after a podium celebration.

—She’s been through pressure like this herself. With her career, the touring, the awards, the... constant spotlight. She gets it. And I think... that’s what makes it easier.—

Lando’s gaze drifts off as he speaks, as if picturing her in his mind.

—Whenever I start overthinking, or doubting myself... she’s there. Even if it’s just a text or a FaceTime before quali. Somehow... she makes me feel like I’ve already won.—

The camera zooms in slightly as Lando leans forward, his voice dropping almost to a whisper.

—I wouldn’t be here without her. Not really.—

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

The camera shifts to a lively scene in the paddock after the Singapore Grand Prix. The roar of the crowd is still lingering in the background, but the focus is solely on Lando Norris. He’s just come out of the chaos of the post-race celebrations, the weight of his victory still fresh on his face, a mixture of disbelief and pure joy.

The camera follows Lando as he strides through the paddock, his gray crewneck and jeans a stark contrast to the usual racing suits and team gear. His hair is still damp from his post-race shower, the water droplets catching the light as he moves. The hum of the busy paddock surrounds him, but it’s clear that, for Lando, the noise of the world is just background music to the euphoria he’s still riding from his win.

As he walks, Lando glances over his shoulder, locking eyes with the camera crew trailing behind him. A mischievous grin spreads across his face.

—You motherfuckers, I’m so happy I’m leaving you,— he says, his voice light but carrying that trademark Lando humor, an impish sparkle in his eyes.

For a moment, it feels like he might genuinely mean it, but then he laughs, shaking his head in mock frustration.

—Just kidding, come on, we’ve got one final stop,— he adds, gesturing to the door of the paddock as if inviting the camera to follow him on the next adventure. His words are casual, but his energy says it all: he’s on top of the world.

The scene cuts quickly to a fast-paced montage.

The sound of jet engines roaring to life fills the audio as the shot switches to Lando boarding a private plane, his usual playful attitude slipping into a moment of calm as he settles into his seat. The camera captures his face from a low angle, the flickering of lights from the city of Singapore passing by the window.

Lando’s phone buzzes in his hand, and he glances down at the screen with a small smile. A text from Amelie, no doubt. He types out a quick reply, sending a heart emoji with a “miss you” message before stowing his phone away.

Next, the camera shows Lando's plane soaring through the clouds, a bird's eye view of the Singapore skyline receding in the distance as the aircraft cuts through the night sky.

The transition is smooth as the plane lands in Canada, the bright lights of Montreal twinkling on the horizon as the final destination draws near.

The last shot of the montage shows Lando stepping off the plane, now wearing a leather jacket over his crewneck, the cool Canadian air hitting his face as he exhales deeply. He looks around at the new city, a subtle mix of anticipation and focus in his expression.

Lando takes a step forward, his next challenge already on the horizon.

—Let’s do this,— he mutters under his breath, the camera capturing him as he walks confidently toward the next chapter.

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

The camera angle shifts, zooming in on Lando Norris as he sits in a quiet interview room. He leans back in his chair, a tired but contented look on his face, his fingers absentmindedly tapping against his knee. The soft hum of background noise from the team paddock fades into silence as the interviewer’s voice cuts through.

The Netflix crew member behind the camera asks the question that’s been on everyone’s mind: —Lando, being in a relationship with someone who has such a busy schedule like yours, how do you balance it all?—

Lando lets out a slow breath, running a hand through his damp hair as he thinks for a moment. His gaze shifts, his eyes briefly focusing on the window before he turns back to the camera.

—It’s tough, honestly,— Lando begins, his gaze now focused on the interviewer. —We both have these schedules that are just... insane, you know? I mean, my calendar is already packed with races, and hers? Well, her tour, the events, it’s a whirlwind.—

He shifts slightly in his seat, his hands folding in front of him, the calm of the interview contrasting the chaos of their lives.

—There’s a lot of back-and-forth, a lot of missed opportunities to just... be together. I mean, we both want the same thing, we both have these dreams we’re chasing, and sometimes it feels like we’re on different ends of the world.—

Lando leans forward slightly, his eyes glimmering with a mix of admiration and a hint of frustration.

—But at the same time, I think that’s what makes it work. We’re both driven, and even when it’s hard, we push through. We know that we’re both in this for the long haul. We always find time, even if it’s just a phone call or a quick message. It’s those little moments that keep us going.—

He pauses, his expression lightening as a soft smile tugs at his lips. The camera zooms in slightly, capturing the change in tone, the warmth that appears when he speaks about her.

—And then, when we do get to see each other again, it makes everything worth it. I mean, nothing compares to that feeling, you know? After all the traveling, all the time apart, when I finally see her... It’s like everything else fades away. It’s all worth it, just to be with her again.—

Lando's voice softens, the sincerity in his words undeniable as the camera lingers on his face, his expression a mix of longing and appreciation.

—Yeah, it’s tough. But it’s worth it.—

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

The camera followed Lando closely as he walked through the entrance of the upscale restaurant, his steps purposeful, a grin already forming on his face. He was dressed casually—jeans, a gray crewneck, and sneakers—but there was something about the way he moved, a certain energy in his stride that made it clear this was no ordinary night. The soft hum of the restaurant’s atmosphere seemed to fade as he approached the table where Amelie sat, surrounded by her team.

Amelie was laughing at something one of her dancers had said, her smile radiating warmth, but the moment the camera caught her profile, there was a soft flicker of something deeper—something that hinted at how much she missed him. Her phone buzzed softly beside her, but she didn’t check it, focused on the conversation at hand, blissfully unaware of the surprise that was about to change everything.

Lando’s voice cut through the chatter as he stepped into view.

—Fuck, you look absolutely stunning.—

Amelie froze mid-laugh, her body stilled as she heard the unmistakable sound of his voice. The camera captured the exact moment her eyes flicked toward the source, and in that split second, her entire expression shifted from surprise to shock and then to a flood of emotions that seemed to overtake her. Her lips parted, and her eyes widened as Lando’s familiar grin filled her vision.

For a moment, the world around them seemed to quiet. The noise of the restaurant, the background clinking of glasses, all disappeared as she stood up, her breath catching in her throat. The camera zoomed in on her face as she took him in, disbelieving yet elated.

—You’re here,— Amelie whispered, the words trembling out of her as if they hadn’t fully registered in her mind.

Lando took a step closer, his eyes softening with affection. The camera lingered on his expression, capturing the mix of relief and pure joy in his gaze. He reached her in a heartbeat, and in an instant, her arms were wrapped around him, pulling him close.

—Of course, I’m here. It’s your birthday, Ames,— Lando replied, his voice light but tender as he returned the embrace. He held her a little longer than usual, sensing the tension she’d been carrying, the weight of months apart.

He whispered against her hair, his voice low and comforting. —Don’t cry. You know I can’t handle it when you cry.—

Amelie pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes, her breath still shaky as she looked at him in wonder. The camera captured her face, glistening with the mix of tears and the brightest smile.

—You’re such an idiot,— she laughed, shaking her head. —I can’t believe you’re here.—

Lando chuckled softly, brushing away a stray tear from her cheek. —Well, I had to come. How could I let you celebrate without me?— He gave her a playful grin before holding her at arm’s length, his eyes scanning her up and down. —Alright, alright, turn around. Let me just say: shit, you look hot in that dress.—

Amelie laughed, her cheeks flushing at the compliment as she twirled in the shimmering yellow dress. The soft fabric swirled around her, catching the light just right, and for a second, it felt like no one else was in the room but the two of them.

Lando’s eyebrows raised in mock skepticism as he looked her over. —You know,— he teased, taking her hand again and pulling her closer, —I’d say something more, but I’m trying to be a gentleman tonight.—

Amelie’s eyes gleamed mischievously. —You know,— she replied, voice dropping to match his tone, —you can take that dress off me later, if you want.—

Lando’s eyes widened, a smirk tugging at his lips as he grinned wider. —You’re killing me, Ames.—

The camera caught the warmth in his eyes as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment. The affection was palpable, and it was clear to anyone watching that this was more than just a reunion—it was a quiet promise, a reassurance that no matter how hard things got, they were in this together.

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

The camera opens to a quiet hotel room, the remnants of Lando Norris’s time in Mexico still visible—a suitcase half-packed, a racing helmet resting on the bed beside a pile of clothes. The soft sound of a zipper closing fills the air as Lando, already in a hoodie and jeans, finishes the last of his packing. His movements are deliberate, but the subtle tension in his posture speaks volumes.

Amelie stands by the window, gazing out at the sprawling city below. The light from the early morning sun catches her face, but her expression is far from the brightness that usually radiates from her. The calmness of the scene contrasts with the emotions that hang in the room.

Lando takes a deep breath, zipping up the suitcase and standing up, his gaze shifting to Amelie. There’s a moment of silence—just the distant noise of the city and the faint hum of the air conditioning—before he finally speaks, his voice quieter than usual.

—You ready?— he asks, though the question feels almost rhetorical. He knows the answer. It’s never easy.

Amelie turns, her eyes meeting his. She forces a small smile, but it’s clear the weight of what’s coming is already starting to hit. —I guess as ready as I’ll ever be.—

Lando steps closer to her, his usual playful demeanor replaced with something softer, more vulnerable. He reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

—You know I hate this part, right?— Lando admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. His words hang in the air like an unspoken truth. —I wish I could just... stay, but you’ve got your tour, and I’ve got Brazil.—

Amelie nods, her throat tight as she swallows the lump that forms there. —I know. I just... I hate how often we have to say goodbye. It never gets easier. Every time feels like it’s worse than the last.— Her voice cracks just slightly, and the vulnerability in her tone makes Lando’s heart ache.

The camera lingers on the two of them, the silence between them palpable. Both of them know this is part of the life they’ve chosen—their dreams pulling them in different directions—but that doesn’t make it any easier. Lando takes another step closer, reaching out to pull her into a tight embrace, the kind of hug that feels like it’s meant to hold them together even as the world around them pulls them apart.

Amelie closes her eyes, resting her head against his chest as she inhales the familiar scent of him, something that always made her feel like she was home, even if just for a moment.

—You’ll be fine, Ames. I’ll see you soon, okay?— Lando says, his voice thick with emotion, though he tries to keep it steady. He pulls back just enough to look at her, his hands resting on her shoulders, giving her a reassuring squeeze. —We’ve done this before. We’ll do it again.—

Amelie nods, her eyes glistening as she looks up at him, trying to force a smile through the rush of emotions. —I know... I just... I hate the distance. I hate how we’re always in different time zones, always chasing after something.—

Lando’s lips curl into a sad, understanding smile. —Yeah, me too. But when I see you again, it’s going to be worth it. We’ve got this.—

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment longer, a silent promise passing between them. The camera focuses on the quiet intimacy of the moment, capturing the depth of their connection—how words aren’t always needed to communicate the bond they share.

But even in the warmth of their embrace, there’s a pull at both of their hearts—a reminder of the sacrifices they’re making for their respective dreams. Lando pulls away, his hand gently brushing her cheek one last time.

—Alright, I’ve got to go. But I’ll be thinking about you, always.—

Amelie nods again, her voice a whisper. —I’ll be thinking about you too. Go crush Brazil. And I’ll be right here, waiting for the next time I get to see you.—

Lando grins, though it’s tinged with sadness. —Deal. Take care of yourself, Ames. I love you.—

—Love you too, Lan.—

With one final lingering glance, Lando turns, grabbing his bag and heading toward the door. The camera follows him, capturing the quiet sadness of the goodbye. As the door clicks shut behind him, the scene cuts to Amelie, standing there in the middle of the room, her gaze lost in the space where he once stood.

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

The camera opens on a quiet, dimly lit room in the heart of the paddock, the bustle of the F1 weekend just outside the door. Lando Norris sits across from the Netflix crew, his eyes tired but sharp, a mix of emotions behind his usual laid-back demeanor. His hands rest on his lap, fingers tapping absently as the soft hum of the camera crew’s gear fades into the background.

Lando leans back in the chair, his gaze flickering briefly to the window where the noise of the paddock can be faintly heard. He takes a breath, his expression distant for a moment as if he’s lost in thought.

—It’s... it’s tough sometimes, you know?— he begins, his voice low and introspective. —People think it’s all glamorous... this life, the races, the travel. But no one really talks about the toll it takes on you. On everything. On the people you care about.—

The camera zooms in slightly on Lando’s face, capturing the vulnerability that flickers in his eyes. He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing.

—You’re always on the move. It’s not just the racing or the pressure to perform; it’s everything else that comes with it. The constant goodbyes, the time zones, the long stretches without seeing the people who matter the most. It gets... heavy. And it doesn't get any easier, no matter how many times you do it.—

There’s a slight shift in his posture as he leans forward, the tension in his shoulders betraying the weight of his words.

—It’s especially hard when you’re trying to make things work with someone who has a schedule just as insane as yours. You know, we both have these lives where we’re constantly flying around, and... finding time to just be together? It's not easy. You have to carve out these moments that are few and far between, and when you do, it feels like you’re making up for lost time. But you can never fully make up for it. I mean, how do you balance it all, right?—

His fingers rub the back of his neck, a subconscious gesture that shows the strain of constantly being pulled in multiple directions.

—You try your best. I try my best. But... there’s always this feeling that I’m missing out, that I’m not giving enough. It’s never really enough. And it hurts sometimes, to be honest.—

The camera shifts to a wider shot, showing Lando’s quiet reflection. He exhales deeply, almost as if releasing a weight that’s been on his chest for a long time. His gaze drifts towards the window again, as if seeking some kind of comfort in the fleeting glimpse of the paddock outside.

—At the end of the day, I wouldn’t change it. I wouldn’t change any of this. But there are moments where... I just wish I could pause everything. Just freeze time, you know? So I can be with the people I care about. To just... be in the same place for a while.—

His expression softens as he speaks, the slight sadness in his eyes giving way to the resolve that has carried him through the years.

—But you make it work. You have to. It’s just part of the job, part of the dream. And when you do get those moments together... even if they’re brief... it makes it all worth it. It’s what keeps you going.—

A brief, bittersweet smile plays at the corner of his lips as he looks back at the camera, the truth of his words sinking in. There’s a flicker of something deeper in his gaze—something that the world rarely gets to see. Something raw. Something human.

The camera holds on his face for a moment before cutting away, leaving the viewer with a lingering sense of the emotional toll of a life lived at high speed, constantly on the move, constantly saying goodbye.

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

The scene opens with a darkened airplane cabin, the low hum of the engines a constant backdrop to the quiet moments unfolding within. Lando’s face is illuminated by the soft glow of the overhead lights, his expression tense and exhausted. His fingers tap restlessly against the armrest, his leg bouncing with barely contained anxiety.

The voice of Lando fills the space, the weight of his words carrying a rawness rarely seen in the fast-paced world of Formula 1.

—After Brazil, I couldn't sleep for… 36 hours. I felt like I was losing my mind. The adrenaline from the race wore off, but my body… my brain, just… wouldn’t stop. The anxiety hit me like a wave, and I couldn’t shake it. I just kept thinking about everything, the pressure, the responsibility… It felt like it was all crashing down on me. And I couldn’t breathe.—

As his voice narrates, the camera cuts to a montage. The flicker of images shows Lando staring out of the airplane window, the lights of Monaco blurred beneath him as the plane cuts through the sky. His tired eyes reflect the turbulence inside his mind, but there’s something deeper, something more fragile in the way he looks out at the world below. He clutches the seatbelt tightly, as if grounding himself, as if the distance between him and his thoughts was growing unbearable.

—And then, I realized. There was only one person who could bring me peace. Only one person who felt like home, even when everything else was chaos. So… I just got on a plane. And I went to her.—

The screen transitions, the comforting warmth of San Diego filling the frame as the camera shifts to the city’s skyline. Lando’s plane touches down, the airport bustling with activity. But all of that fades as the camera focuses solely on him, walking briskly through the terminal, his eyes fixed on the exit ahead.

His face is still drawn, his shoulders stiff with the weight of his exhaustion, but there’s a quiet determination in his step. The camera follows him as he exits the airport, stepping into a taxi, the streets of San Diego blurring by as the tension that had gripped him slowly begins to ease.

The camera cuts to a close-up of Lando as he arrives at the hotel, his steps quick and purposeful. The moment he enters the lobby, his eyes scan the room for a glimpse of her, and his shoulders visibly relax just a fraction. The tension that had been so overwhelming only hours ago starts to melt away, replaced by the single thought that had carried him through the chaos: Amelie.

The scene transitions with a soft fade, and Lando is seen walking down the hallway of her hotel. His hand grips the door handle, a sense of urgency in his movements. He takes a deep breath, and as the door swings open, there she is—Amelie. Her back is to him, her silhouette framed by the dim light of the room, and the instant she turns, her face lights up in surprise.

The camera lingers on her expression, capturing the recognition in her eyes, followed by a rush of emotions that seem to sweep over her all at once.

Before she can even say anything, Lando is already taking a step forward, and without a word, he wraps her in his arms. The camera catches the tension in his body—how it eases the moment they make contact. Amelie holds him tight, her arms around him like a lifeline, pulling him close as if trying to make up for all the lost time and the unspoken pain.

Lando’s face is buried in her hair as he clings to her, his breath shaky. The camera stays focused on him for a moment longer, the raw emotion that cracks through his calm exterior undeniable.

And then it happens. He starts to cry.

The camera shifts slightly, catching the rawness of the moment without intruding. Lando's tears fall silently, and Amelie doesn't let go. She holds him tighter, her own emotions in check as she whispers something soothing into his ear, but her voice is muffled by his presence.

—You’re safe now...— Amelie whispers, her voice steady, comforting.

Lando shakes his head slightly, as if still struggling to catch his breath. His grip on her tightens, but the tears don’t stop. For a moment, there’s nothing but the two of them—lost in each other, finding solace in the presence of the person who understands.

The camera slowly zooms out as Amelie, sensing the moment is private, gently closes the door, cutting off the view from the camera crew. However, the microphone catches the faintest bits of the conversation between them as she tries to calm him.

—It’s okay, Lando. You’re okay, just breathe with me, okay? You’re home now... I’ve got you...—

The sound of her voice, soft and steady, blends with the muffled rustle of movement. Lando’s breathing begins to slow, and the camera fades to black, the weight of his emotions not lost on the viewers, but instead, left in the quiet space between the two of them.

The scene ends, leaving a sense of peace—of a homecoming. The cameras pull away, capturing the fleeting vulnerability that remains, just for a moment, between the chaos of their lives.

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

The scene opens with the roaring crowd at the Yas Marina Circuit, the bright lights reflecting off the champagne-soaked podium. Lando Norris stands tall at the top step, the weight of his victory sinking in as the British national anthem plays. The McLaren driver, who had fought relentlessly throughout the season, had not only claimed victory at the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix but sealed the Constructors' Championship for McLaren — a historic achievement the team hadn't seen in decades.

The camera lingers on Lando, his signature grin stretched across his face, though there’s something different about this moment. It’s not just the win, not just the championship. His eyes keep drifting off to the side, scanning the crowd. And then, he finds her.

Amelie.

The camera shifts to her, standing just below the podium among the sea of McLaren team members. She’s trying to hold it together, but the tears are unstoppable. There’s pride in her eyes, but also something deeper — relief, love, and the overwhelming emotion of witnessing the man she loves achieve his dream.

The camera catches the subtle moment where Lando tries to fight back the emotion that threatens to break through. He bites his lip, shaking his head slightly, as if telling himself to stay composed. But his eyes, glistening under the lights, never leave her.

As the champagne sprays and Charles and Carlos celebrate around him, Lando’s gaze keeps drifting back to Amelie. The camera zooms in on her, tears streaming down her face as she claps, overwhelmed with pride.

In the background, the Netflix crew captures a quiet moment between McLaren team principal Andrea Stella and one of the engineers.

—He's not crying because of the championship, is he?— one of them chuckles.

Stella smiles knowingly. —No. It's because of her.—

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

The scene transitions from the chaos of the podium celebrations to the bustling atmosphere inside the McLaren hospitality. The orange and black-clad team members cheer and clap as Lando Norris makes his way through the crowd, the weight of the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix victory and McLaren's Constructors' Championship win still sinking in.

He walks in, his race suit still damp from champagne, and the trophy firmly in his hand. People keep stopping him — engineers, mechanics, old friends from the team — all eager to congratulate him. Lando smiles, laughs, and exchanges handshakes, but his eyes are scanning the room, searching for the people who truly matter.

And then, he spots them.

His family — his mom and his younger sister Cisca — standing beside Amelie, who is visibly emotional, her eyes red from tears she’s been desperately trying to hold back.

Lando’s smile softens as he walks toward them. Without hesitation, he pulls his mom and sister into a one-armed hug, the other still clutching the trophy. His mom kisses his cheek, pride radiating from her, while Cisca squeezes his shoulder, her grin matching his.

Lando then does something unexpected—he hands the trophy to his mom.

—Here, you hold it,— he says, his voice warm.

His mom looks at him, touched, running her fingers over the engraved plate before clutching it close. But Lando's focus has already shifted.

His gaze locks onto Amelie, and before she can even say a word, he pulls her into his arms, wrapping her in a tight embrace. The moment she feels him against her, the last of her composure shatters. A quiet sob escapes her, muffled against his shoulder as she clings to him.

—You did it,— she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. —Lando, you actually did it.—

Lando exhales shakily, holding her even tighter. —I know... I know.— His voice is barely above a whisper, like he still doesn’t fully believe it himself.

Amelie pulls back slightly, just enough to look at him, her hands cradling his face. Her eyes shimmer with tears, but her smile is unwavering.

—I’m so proud of you.—

And that’s when Lando, who has spent the entire evening holding back the overwhelming emotions, finally lets them break through. His lips crash into hers in a kiss that is desperate, relieved, and filled with everything words can’t express. The entire room is still buzzing with excitement, but in that moment, it’s just them.

The camera lingers on them before pulling back, capturing the McLaren staff, his family, and the entire celebration happening around them.

Lando finally pulls away, resting his forehead against Amelie’s, and with a soft laugh, he whispers:

—It was always going to be worth it, as long as I got to come back to you.—

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oldworldwitch · 1 day ago

Text

Who are you going to marry? 🌹🌹🌹

Welcome to a new pick a pile reading, I hope you are doing well.

Disclaimer:

Images are created by meta ai. I don't want to infringe any copyright lol. Do you guys have free sources for the images in your readings ? I'm curious how you manage this things and if you have any thoughts about this.

Anyways, lets start with the readings. Remember always to take what resonate and leave what doesn't.

Pile 1

Pile 2

Pile 3

Pile 1:

Where are you meeting them:

You are going to meet this person in an old building, between march and April, chance will play an important role. When you meet them you are going to a place you didn't want to go in the first place, I see you wearing a beautiful white dress tho, could be another color.

First impressions:

There will be tensión in the air pile 1, the attraction between you Will be instantaneous from both sides. He thinks you are beautiful and you have a supernal aura arround you. You will find them inspiring, he have a splendid sense of fashion, I think he changes his look according his music's taste, maybe he dye his hair different colors.

How you two will feel as you get to know each other:

Awww I'm happy for you pile 1, this person is what you always wanted, you share almost the same taste in music. Love songs are important maybe you will play a song in your Spotify playlist and he will be omg I love that song, can this song be our song please? He will ofrecer remember you for that one lovesong. When you two talk, you understand each other in meaninfull way, you two talk about material and spiritual things with the same depth. At first you will feel hesitant about letting him enter your life but your faith in love will be restored as you see he is a sweetheart. You Will inspire in them strong romantic feelings that he will not be ashamed to show openly to you. Also he is going to support you in your goals and motivate you to acomplish them as he knows you are totally capable of anything you set your purpose to.

Warning! Some 18+ messages coming through:

Sex is going to feel like heaven pile 1, planets and stars will collide as you two unite as one in kisses and sweet caresses, the sensation will be like spiralating in space and accidentaly finding god for a few seconds. They honestly think you are a goddess, they love your body and how you make him feel. Sex is almost spiritual, you touch each other souls. This will make you realize that this could be true love, not only for the sex, but because he has such a pure heart and has no conditions to show it to you. For the first time in your life you feel safe and protected by the person you love. I hope you find each other very soon pile 1, you are the perfect couple.

He could be a Virgo, Aquarium or capricornus.

Initials or important letters: J-I-Z-G

Pile 2:

Where are you meeting them:

This is a morning setting, you are going to or leaving from work. So either you find this person outside your job or they work with you in the same place. So you probably already know this person. Month of august could be important.

First impressions:

You will find them eccentric and a little bit vain. You first will be thinking he is gay lol or he simply has an androgenic look to him. He is young and has dark toned skin or his skin is tanned with the sun. He will think that he has competition, that if he is willing to chase you he will have to step up from their comfort zone. Don't know if this is true or not, but they feel like you have a lot of suitors in love.

How you two will feel as you get to know each other:

I see a lot of stress coming from this person's energy, he feels like he don't have the courage to aproach you and he doesn't know how to call your attention. His confidence is low, he will need an impulse to surpass their indecision. They see you as you were out of their league pile 2, I feel sad for them. But don't worry it's a question of time until they find the strenght to confess their feelings for you. Once this person lets go of their mental barriers you will meet a person who loves nature and animals, a person who brings joy to others with their stories and anecdotes. And despite his past indecision towards you he will transmit energy, strenght and courage to you. He will also teach you that life shouldn't be taken seriously and that what matters in life is not what happens to you but how you deal with it. He will find comfort and peace with you, they like how silence between you is so romantic and soathing.

This person could be a Leo or Aquarium.

Initials or important letters: I-M-J-V-A

Pile 3:

Where are you meeting them:

You are meeting this person in a time where you are regaining confidence in yourself. Maybe you are dissapointed with people who used to be in your life, friends don't seem friends anymore, lovers can't keep their word and family isn't as familiar anymore. You will meet this person in some sort of competition outdoors, maybe he is running in the park or maybe you join a gim and get to know an interesting person. Another possible escenario is that he lives in a different city or he lives far from you.

First impressions :

As I said before you are feeling down babe, you feel like noone understands you, so you will exude apathy wherever you go and you seem very distant as you are occupied with other things in your life. Your person will think of you as a self supporting individual, who has their shit together and doesn't seem to need anyone. This will awaken their interest, but at the same time they are afraid of approaching you due to your air of superiority. If you don't do this on purpose and you don't want to be perceived that way I suggest you to work in your relationship with your parents, see what paterns did you learned from them.

How you two will feel as you get to know each other:

I think you are delaying meeting this person due to your fear to let people enter your life. You are afraid of getting hurt, but I have good news for you pile 3, not all the people arround you want to hurt you, some of them admire you from afar and want to see you shine again. When you finally let your guard down you are going to find a person who fulfils your need to be understood and feel heard. They are athletic and handsome, they take care very well of their body, but they are not shallow. I see you both sharing a dinner with candles on, such a romantic atmosohere. As their feelings for you I think they will only see what you want them to see and nothing else. Try to work in your insecurities pile 3, you are lovable and apreciated in this world. The rainbow is at the end of the road, you just don't see it, and please be patient with yourself, you are going to be fine.

This person could be a Leo or Cancer.

Initials or important letters: H-R-T-C

#pick a card #pick a card reading #tarot #pac #pick a card tarot #pick a pile #pick a pile reading

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glasvera · 2 days ago

Text

Dead Man Walking

Moon Knight x Fem!Vampire!Reader

Description: Sequel to Blooded Moon! When you're on the run, cursed to be a vampire and chased by the superheroes that want to save the city, Moon Knight finds you first. Maybe saving you isn't his best idea, but he'll be damned if he leaves you behind when you're this terrified. Being easy on the eyes also helps.

Warnings/Disclaimers: SMUT (18+ only, Minors DNI!!!!), cursing, angst, blood, blood-sucking, pretty vivid descriptions of the taste (I mean, it's a vampire reader, so what'd you expect?), hurt and comfort, tearing off clothes, shower sex, fucking against the wall, doggy style, fluff and smut

A/N: Oh hey, it me <3 Been working on this one for a while! Hopefully it's a good blend of freaky with sprinkles of comfort... reader did just drink blood for the first time, after all. Title was inspired by the song of the same name (by Grant) because I listened to it at least a dozen times while writing this LOL

Word Count: 3.7k

Blood trickles from the fresh puncture wounds in his neck. Your inhibitions begin to leave you when you dive in, lapping that liquid vitality, groaning with each swallow. You don't bite again, at least not yet, but you do suck, coaxing forth just a bit more blood from his veins that you gulp down eagerly. His hips buck up into you and he lets out a low moan, fingertips delving beneath the waistband of your pants and squeezing the bare skin of your hips.

You drink in the sweet tang of his blood, the salt of his sweat. He tastes divine, and the sounds you draw from his lips leave your thighs quivering with want. It isn't long before your hips meet his in their movements, undulating and grinding against him with hot exhales of breath fanning across his neck.

Impatient hands get to work, first at his red-stained cloak, quickly followed by his pauldrons, chest plate, and his bracers and gloves. Soon he's left in just his undershirt from the chest up, the fabric clinging to every curve and muscle of his delicious frame, and your hands roam across the expanse of dark grey fabric. He shudders under your touch but doesn't remain idle as he splays his hands across your bare back before pushing your shirt up. Goosebumps litter your skin in the wake of his movements.

“Mind if I…?” he murmurs, his voice rumbling just next to your ear. A flash of your tongue cleans the drop of blood that dared to attempt an escape from your lips before you smile, baring your sharp fangs. He curses under his breath. “That… shouldn’t be as hot it is.”

A dark chuckle thrums in your chest as you raise your arms above your head and help him divest you of your shirt.

“Shit.” His eyes roam hungrily over the skin exposed to him. It’s smooth and cool like polished marble. Lips, red and sticky with blood, press searing, messy kisses along your clavicle. When his bare hands find your breasts, you gasp at just how hot he feels.

You hadn’t really considered that you were cold until now. It was your new normal. Now, with feverish palms molding and squeezing your tits and a tongue like lava savoring the expanse of your neck… surely you were going to burst into flames. It eats you alive. You need more. You need to consume, to be consumed.

Fingernails sharpen into claws before you’re tearing apart the barrier keeping you from his chest. Marc’s eyes widen, but he makes no move to stop you, shrugging off the remaining shreds of fabric as they scatter to the floor. Locking your thighs tighter around his hips, you push him down to lie on his back, smiling coyly. You drink in the veritable feast of a man beneath you. Fingertips spread through coarse, thick hair as you brace yourself against his heaving chest. Thin, angry lines criss-cross his skin, beading with red rivulets, the aftermath of your hastiness. You catch one of them on the pad of your index finger before bringing it to your lips and darting your tongue out to taste it.

But then a wave of realization washes over you. This… this isn’t you. Blood crazed, seductive, feral. It felt like someone else had taken over you.

He sees the hesitation in your eyes, the way you stiffen atop him. A gentle, albeit searing, touch grazes your cheek. “Hey… you doin’ okay?”

Your eyes snap back down to meet his, greeting that chocolate gaze with a red-tinted, frenzied glance. Breath shudders forth from your chest. “I am… I…”

Your eyelids shut tight and you hold your head in your hands. Guilt shrouds over you like a thunderous cloud. You should be asking him that question. You owed him so much, and all you’ve done is take and take and take…

The hand at your cheek presses firmer, cupping your jaw while his thumb brushes soothingly over your cheekbone. “We don’t have to do this.”

“No, I want to, I just--give me a moment.” Peeking through barely open slits, you can see the concern etched upon the lines of his face. Despite the flush that decorates it, the desire that blackens his irises, there is a patience there that, whether or not you felt deserving of it, you had grown accustomed to.

Though he does give you a few moments of silence, he eventually speaks up. “I’m fine, if that’s what you’re worried about. Khonshu sure as hell isn’t happy about it, but I don’t need him butting in on this sort of thing anyway.”

It doesn’t quell the shame, the fear of the possibility that gnaws at your conscience. “...What if you turn?” you ask meekly.

He gazes up at you softly now, a pitying exhale breathing through his lips. “Pretty sure it has to be intentional. I’ll be fine,” he reassures you. It’s not like you could argue with him; after all, only one of you had long-term experience with these sorts of things. You had only just turned a month or so ago. “Besides, I don’t think Khonshu would let me go that easily.”

A sudden twinge and a wince as he turns his head away in pain confirms that, at least.

“Yeah…” he scoffs with a cock of his head, “I’ll be fine.”

You give him a tiny, sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry.” When he gives you a curious look, you add, “For complicating things, I mean. With Khonshu, Iron Man, all of it.” You lean into the hand that lingers at your cheek before letting out a long, drawn out sigh. “I can’t imagine that drinking your blood will help the situation, either.”

“Stop that.”

You blink in surprise as the pad of his thumb tugs at your lip, swiping away the blood beginning to crust there. “What…?”

He sits back upright, holding your head between his palms. His touch still feels almost feverish to you, but there’s gentleness, comfort, and in this position, you can’t help but stare into his eyes and find the sincerity behind his gaze.

“You’re questioning if you’re worth the time, the effort. You don’t get to decide that.”

Your heart might as well be trapped in his fist with the way it clenches in your chest.

“I--”

“Stand up,” he commands.

Your body freezes for a moment, tender muscles only just revitalized feeling sore with the sudden tension. But he’s raising a brow, reaching down and pushing at your hips, and you don’t have time to think when you’re too busy collecting your bearings and keeping your balance. Were your legs really this wobbly before? You stagger to your feet like a newborn fawn.

“Let’s get you washed up,” he adds sternly, pointing with a nod of his head in the direction of his sleeping quarters. When you hesitate, he stands and sighs with a slump of his shoulders. “C’mon. You trust me, don’t you?”

What did trust have to do with it? Other than you being around him at all as a blood sucking vampire, or as someone who up until recently was a complete stranger, or how another member of his team wanted you wiped off the face of the earth, or--

“Hey. Snap out of it.” Despite his tone, his hand takes yours gingerly. Your eyes snap towards his, surprised to find him gazing warmly at you through cocoa irises. “We can explore whatever the fuck just happened later, but you clearly need a minute, and we both could stand to have a little less blood caked on us.”

-----

You remember how the faucet on your apartment’s shower used to squeak when turned. Of course, being in the Baxter building, the plumbing had no such problems here. Only the hiss of warm water sounds before the streams begin to drum against the porcelain floor.

It’s funny… only a few minutes prior, you were practically ripping each other’s clothes off. Now it’s an awkward fumble, grunts and oofs punctuated with occasional apologies, stumbling against the wall with pants legs tangled around your ankles. You bump your nose against his knee at one point and your eyes begin to water even as you snort out a laugh at your clumsiness.

“You know,” you start with an airy chortle, “I always thought being a vampire would lend a bit more grace to the afflicted.”

The water is almost too hot when you step into it, but there's comfort in the steam that coalesces about your body. Marc joins you soon after, and you can tell he's trying to give you space if you need it…

…even if his arousal still occasionally nudges your thigh or butt.

Who could blame the man when sanguine perfection stands before him?

You hear him grunt with discomfort as the water washes over his fresh cuts and bruises. Regardless, it isn't long before lavender hits your nostrils and you feel strong, firm hands at your shoulders.

“S'pose it's like piloting a new body,” he replies as he massages the soap into your tender skin. A contented hum rumbles in your throat and your head lolls lazily to one side. “You, uh… changed a bit once you tasted my blood.”

“Don't remind me,” you groan.

“No, not like that,” he chuckles. “I mean physically. You got stronger. Your… you seemed to perk up a bit.” His voice wavers. Did he sound embarrassed?

“I… what?”

Soap lathered hands make their way down your back. His thumbs press outside the ridges of your spine, mapping every dip and curve. Your cheek presses against the cool tile wall as his fingertips work miracles into your aching muscles, melting you like butter. Your back arches with the pleasant side benefit of pushing your ass out towards him, and you can feel him freeze for a fraction of a second, but he quickly recovers.

“Pretty sure it was mainly the muscles, and it's nothing dramatic, but ah…” his touch dips lower, leaning forward with his forehead pressed between your shoulder blades. Now his hands are at your hips and you feel the hesitation in his tensed fingers. “Seems like you got a bit of a lift in certain areas.”

Oh. You peek down at your chest, and it does seem a bit more shapely, but you had been a bit too distracted to notice earlier. Blood sucking, kissing, and all that.

“I guess it makes sense. Vampires in the stories are always supposed to be alluring, right?” you reason with a chuckle, though a smirk does tug at your lips. “How'd you notice the difference?”

“I, well… you see--” he stammers, and you feel his body stiffen.

“I'm teasing, Marc,” you reassure him with a lilting giggle. He relaxes only slightly, and you can't help but roll your eyes. “I… like knowing you look at me like that. Like this.” You turn in his hold, pressing your back to the tile and taking his hands in yours. He drinks in your nude form hungrily, openly, eyeing the curve of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the fill of your hips. It sparks something in your chest before a warming flame flickers in your belly.

“I like you.”

His eyes flicker down to your lips, no longer painted red with his blood now that the water has washed it away. There’s that hesitation again, even if his eyes are halfway through fucking you already. Something holds him back. You lace your fingers together before bringing your joined hands above your head, forcing him to lean towards you to keep his balance. Water beads and drips from his messy brown locks onto your face, but you barely even notice it. All you can focus on is the way his gaze bores into you, eyes darkened with lust yet softened by tenderness. This was different from before, when everything had happened so fast. Taut strings of building tension had snapped, pooling desires had overflowed.

But this?

You study his rugged features, dropping one hand to press your fingertips and drag them languidly along the scratchy stubble of his jawline. Cupping his face, you can trace the pad of your thumb along his cheekbone while his eyes flutter closed. In this moment, you have all the time in the world.

“Well… good thing I like you, too,” he responds gruffly, untangling your fingers to brace himself against the wall. He leans over you properly, caging you with his palms flat on either side of your head, pinching his inner lip between his canines.

You let out a shuddery breath as your eyes devour every delicious detail of him, openly ogling every muscle. Your fingertips fall to his chest again, gentler this time, but still raking through that coarse chest hair and following it across his stomach as it trails all the way down, down…

You draw your index finger teasingly down his shaft. A sharp intake of breath hisses through his teeth as his brow knits together, and his cock twitches expectantly in response to your touch.

“I can tell.”

There's barely enough time for that cheeky smirk to spread across your face before he dives in, groaning and slanting his mouth over yours. Salt, sweat, the lingering taste of his blood accented by the somewhat metallic tang of the shower water, is all spoon fed to your palette when his tongue parts the seam of your lips. You gasp delightedly at his eagerness and wrap your fingers around him properly. In response, one hand shoots down to your thigh and digs into the plush flesh, hiking your leg up and pushing you firmly against the cold tile.

It's a mess of teeth and tongue, wet and warmth, hunger and affection. Your tongues dance, caress, fight, but he relents when you suck on the appendage, letting out a breathy groan and rutting into your hand.

Gently, avoiding breaking the skin, you kiss and suck, grazing your fangs across his skin as your lips trail along his jaw towards your prize. He surrenders willingly, almost excitedly, tilting his head to expose his neck to you. The animal in you begs you to bite down, to take in more of that liquid vitality, but you have to prove yourself worthy of his trust, worthy of his affection, worthy of this.

“You…” Another pleasured exhale interrupts him. “You don’t have to be gentle.” It’s so sincere it makes your chest ache, your lips trembling as they hover over his pulse point.

“Let me be,” you plead softly as your breath fans across his neck. “Let me prove that I can.”

His head turns and presses an awkward kiss to the soaked strands of your hair. “Alright. Can’t promise I will be, though.”

You snort out a sudden laugh at that before echoing his own sentiment. “You certainly don’t have to be gentle with me.”

It seems to spur him to action once more. Reaching down to replace your hand with his own, he strokes his cock and lines it up with your entrance. You’re more than ready, practically dripping even without the water that cascades down your bodies. Despite all of his talk, his reassurances, his patience, you can tell it’s all beginning to wear thin as his breathing grows more and more ragged when the tip nudges past your labia.

Your knee is practically pressed to your chest, folding you in half as he holds your perfect legs wide open. It takes effort, conscious thought, to breathe as you hug your arms around his shoulder and bury your face into his neck, but you’re rewarded with the delicious drag of his cockhead as it slides into you.

“Fuck…”

A single curse shouldn’t be so attractive, but the way his voice goes gravelly, breathy, the way he digs his fingers into your thigh just to keep himself composed, all because of you? You could live off of this high.

True to his word, it doesn’t take long before he’s snapping his hips against yours, fucking you into the tiles. You would be surprised, no, impressed by his stamina despite your earlier drink if it weren’t for the fact that you were preoccupied spilling moan after moan into the crook of his neck. He slides in and out of you so easily, curves just right, that you can’t help but wonder if his cock was somehow made for you. Every nerve ending is set alight with pleasure, the searing heat of his body branding you as you hold on for dear life and dig your nails into his back.

“M-Marc! Oh fuck-” you breathe into his skin. You taste the salty tang of his sweat against your lips as he pistons in and out of you in a heated frenzy.

Your moans are music to his ears. He cups your ass in his other hand before lifting you up completely, wrapping your legs around his waist and pushing you against the wall. His pace never falters, and the slight change in angle leaves you keening out high-pitched cries and seeing stars. The muscles of your core tense as that wonderful pleasure starts to build. His hips clap against yours, and his pubic bone grinds deliciously against your clit with every thrust.

“That’s it--fuck, feels so good… shit…” he praises, grunting with effort when your velvety walls clench around him. “Perfect… so fucking perfect--”

You whine as a tingling sensation sparks across your body and spreads to your extremities. No one has ever fucked you so well, so thoroughly, and your heightened vampiric senses only seem to multiply the sensations tenfold. You feel every inch of him with every thrust, feel the way he fucks into you like his life depends on it, feel the press of his fingers as they squeeze into your flesh.

“Right there, yes!” you whimper, throwing your head back against the wall when he angles his thrusts ever so slightly to the side. You’re so close, so fucking close, your moans growing airier, whinier, desperate.

And then he’s setting you back down onto your feet, and you can’t believe he would have the audacity when you were this fucking close--!

But he’s breathing heavily, his heart racing, when that gruff voice commands, “Turn around.”

That alone almost makes up for it, sending shivers down your spine that morph into pleasured shudders that warm you to your core.

He pulls out of you and you’re quick to comply, turning and bracing your hands against the same wall that had been kind enough to support you so far. It’s mere seconds before his hands find your ass, cupping it possessively. Your back arches and you press impatiently against his achingly hard cock, still slick with your juices, peering over your shoulder and biting your lip. Your fang just barely pricks the plump flesh and draws forth a bead of blood that you instinctively lap up even if it’s your own.

“F-Fuck… needed this view.” His voice is like silk and gravel, breathless, airy, and rough. He wastes no more time in reentering you.

Oh gods.

If you thought he was perfect before, if you thought there was no way he could feel even better, you were criminally mistaken. It’s too sinful to be heaven and yet it’s pure euphoria as he fucks you hard and fast, the curve of his length dragging perfectly and hitting that spongy spot that leaves you whimpering and babbling for more. One hand darts between your legs and feverishly your fingertips circle your clit, timing it with his thrusts. Your ass and tits bounce with the force of his fucking, and he leans over you to capture one of your breasts in his hand as he pinches and squeezes at your supple skin. Hot breath puffs against your back.

“Can feel… you squeezing me… shit, come on--” he grunts.

All you can give in response are gasps and lilting cries as your moans grow higher and higher in pitch. Your cheek is smashed against the wall and your jaw hangs slack, drooling with pleasure. His cock hammers into you, fingers tug and twist at your nipple, and your own work desperately at your bud as you chase the wave that crests higher and higher within you. The closer you get, the more your moans sound like pleas for release. He doesn’t relent, even as his breathing grows more and more labored, the effort leaving his body even hotter against the permanent chill of your vampiric skin.

“Yes, yes, fu--hah… mm--mmh--fuck!” Your throat is hoarse from moaning and leaves your voice wispy and airy as you crest closer, closer, chasing the wave and riding it further and further--

It crashes, and you crash with it, slamming into you with a flurry of fiery, euphoric explosions as you spasm and convulse, crying out with your orgasm as your core tightens and your pussy grips his cock like a vice.

“Shit!” he curses, leaning back and gripping your hips with both hands as he slams into you, chasing his own release. You shudder as he fucks you through the aftershocks. Faster. Faster. It’s almost bruising, but you’re made of tougher stuff than most. Gargled moans bubble in your throat.

He finally stills in you with a guttural groan, emptying his load deep into you as he pants for breath. His grip on you finally loosens before he slumps forward, catching himself on the wall as the shower fills the silence with the gentle hiss of water. Your head is filled with a pleasant buzz, your mind hazy as you try to stagger yourself upright.

Before you can stand up fully, however, Marc’s arms wrap tightly around your waist as he hugs you to him. It’s a complete turnaround from how rough he had been just moments ago. Tender, loving, even. The hug turns into a sway, guiding the two of you back and forth softly. He buries his nose into the crook of your neck.

“You good?” he murmurs. His lips press gentle kisses along your shoulder.

Affection swells in your chest and you nuzzle into him with your cheek. How could you put it into words suitable enough? For the first time since your transformation, you felt whole again, accepted, trusted, cared for.

“I feel wonderful,” you beam, wrapping your arms around his. It’s good that you’re turned away from him in the shower, because you feel the happy tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

For the first time in months, in the arms of the man that saved your life in more ways than he could imagine, you were more than good. You were home.

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