#alright fine I’ll try to split my time

[inseobts]

I’m Your Husband

fem!reader

characters: zoro, sanji, law, shanks and ace

tags: fluff, light comedy, established relationship, protective, pda

a/n: sorry for playing so much with ace T.T

words count: around 1.3k - 1.4k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Zoro:

The sun is down. The sky is dark, but the town is bright with lights and music.

You just finished eating at a small place by the sea. The food was great. Now, the crew stands outside, full and happy.

Luffy stretches his arms “Alright! Let’s go explore!”

Usopp nods “Let’s split up! We’ll cover more ground!”

You feel warm. Maybe too warm. That third drink… or was it the fourth? Either way, your head is spinning just a little. But your smile won’t leave your face.

Nami pulls out a map “Okay, I’ll go with Sanji, Chopper, Zoro, and Y/N.”

“Eh? Why am I in that group?” Zoro asks, already frowning.

Nami smirks “Because I said so. Try not to get lost this time.”

You giggle and stumble a little “I’ll make sure he doesn’t.”

Zoro looks at you, arms crossed “You can’t even stand straight.”

You step forward and grab his arm “That’s why I need you.” Your voice is soft. Sweet. Maybe a little loud.

Zoro freezes. His cheeks turn the faintest pink. He glances around—people are watching “H-Hey. Don’t cling like that.”

You grin and press your cheek to his shoulder “But you’re warm.”

“Oi, marimo,” Sanji says, cigarette between his lips, “If she wants to hold you, let her. You lucky bastard.”

“Shut it, curly-brow,” Zoro mutters “She’s drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” you mumble “Just happy.”

Chopper runs ahead, excited “Let’s find some cool shops!”

You keep holding onto Zoro’s arm as the group walks. He keeps trying to shake you off, gently. But you won’t let go.

“Y/N,” he says in a low voice “People are staring.”

“So?” You look up at him with a small smile “I like holding you.”

He sighs “You’re impossible.”

“But you love me” you tease.

He looks away, his voice barely a whisper “…Yeah.”

You blink “What?”

“Nothing” he grunts.

Nami glances back and smiles “You guys are so cute.”

Zoro groans “Don’t start.”

You lean even closer “Zoro~”

“What now?”

“Carry me.”

“No.”

“Pleaaase?”

Sanji laughs “I’ll carry you, mademoiselle—”

“No!” Zoro snaps. He sighs again and crouches “Fine. Get on.”

You cheer quietly and hop onto his back. Your arms go around his neck “Zoro’s the best…”

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t puke on me.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, finally closing your eyes.

Zoro walks, steady and strong, even with you on his back.

Behind you, Nami whispers to Sanji, “He’s totally soft for her.”

Sanji shrugs “Still don’t get what she sees in that mosshead.”

Zoro’s ear twitches “I can hear you, idiots.”

The streets are quieter now. Fewer lights. Fewer people.

You’re still on Zoro’s back, half-asleep. Your cheek rests against his shoulder. His body is warm, and his footsteps steady.

Sanji walks ahead with his hands in his pockets. Chopper’s beside him, talking excitedly about a candy shop he saw. Nami looks at the stars.

Then it happens.

“Oi, oi… look at those two up front.”

The voice comes from a shadowed alley. A group of men steps out. Maybe five… no, more. Eight? Ten?

All of them wear smug grins and old, ragged clothes. Drunk or bored, or both.

“Redhead’s got legs for days” one of them whistles.

Another points at you “And that one’s already clinging to her man. What a shame.”

You blink slowly, still a little tipsy, but even you catch that.

Zoro stops walking.

Nami’s eyes narrow “Great.”

Sanji steps forward fast, arm out in front of Nami and Chopper “Let me handle this.”

Zoro lowers you gently to the ground “Can you stand?”

You nod smiling proudly at you don't even know what “Mmhm. I’ll try my best”

He steps away from you, his hand already on one sword.

The men keep talking.

“Hey sweetheart,” one says to Nami, “you and your friend here, ditch the blond twig, the dog and that Grinch. We’ll show you a good time.”

Another laughs “Yeah the drunk one too. Bet she’s easy.”

Everything goes still.

Sanji’s eyes glow with rage “What did you say?”

Zoro doesn’t speak. He just draws his sword with a soft shing.

The leader of the group smirks “Look at these pretty boys. Gonna cry?”

Sanji takes off his jacket slowly “Nami-swan, Chopper—stay back.”

Chopper grabs Nami’s hand and pulls her behind a cart “Be careful!”

Zoro turns his head slightly toward you “Sit down. This’ll be quick.”

You nod and sit near the cart, leaning against it.

The men charge first, loud and sloppy.

Bad idea.

Sanji moves like fire, one man down with a spinning kick.

Zoro is calm and cold. His sword flashes but he doesn’t cut them, just knocks them flat with the dull side. Quick. Clean. Brutal.

But then someone tries to sneak around.

Toward you.

“Hey, maybe I’ll take the quiet one... she cute”

Zoro’s blade is at the man’s neck in a second. His voice is low, dangerous.

“Say another word.”

The man gulps.

“Zoro” you whisper. You’ve never seen his eyes like this. Sharp. Dark.

���I’m fine,” he says “But I don’t like people looking at you like that.”

Sanji grabs another by the collar and slams him into the ground “Next time you look at a lady like that, I’ll rearrange your face.”

The rest scatter fast. Limping, running, one even crawls away.

Silence again.

Chopper peeks out “Is it over?”

Nami sighs “Yeah. Idiots.”

Zoro walks back to you. He crouches “You okay?”

You nod “They were gross.”

He offers his hand. You take it.

“Next time,” he says, “stay close.”

“I was literally on your back.”

He grunts “Still.”

You smirk “Were you jealous?”

He looks away “…No.”

“You were.”

He doesn’t answer, just picks you up again, bridal-style this time.

You blink “What are you doing?”

“You can’t walk, and I’m not letting you fall behind.”

Sanji lights another cigarette, muttering, “Show-off.”

Zoro ignores him. You wrap your arms around his neck again, this time without teasing.

“Thanks” you whisper.

His voice is soft, only for you “Always.”

Zoro still holds you in his arms as the group walks again. You rest against his chest, eyes half-closed, smile lazy.

But after a few more steps, you squirm a little.

“Zoro?”

“Hm?”

“You can put me down. I can walk now.”

He pauses “You sure?”

You nod “Promise. I’m not that drunk anymore.”

He stops and gently lowers you onto your feet. His hands linger on your arms a second longer, just in case you stumble.

You wobble just a little but stay up.

“See?” you say with a proud smile “Told you.”

He nods “Fine. But don’t fall again.”

You start to walk, but then he does something strange.

He reaches down… and takes your hand.

Your eyes widen a little. So do Nami’s.

Even Chopper notices “Whoa… Zoro’s holding hands?!”

Zoro doesn’t let go. He doesn’t look embarrassed, either. Just keeps walking like it’s nothing.

Nami raises an eyebrow “Since when do you hold hands in public?”

Sanji raises both eyebrows “Yeah, mosshead, you sick? Got a fever or something?”

Zoro glances at them “Tch. I just don’t want her tripping.”

Chopper runs up beside him, grinning “But you never do that! That’s so cute!”

Zoro sighs but doesn’t snap “Yeah, well. You’re fine, Chopper. Just don’t push it.”

You look at him. Really look. His face is calm now, jaw relaxed, grip warm around your fingers. Not too tight. Not too loose. Just… right.

You don’t know why you feel shy suddenly.

But you say it anyway.

“I have a crush on you. Do you like me back?”

The group stops walking.

Zoro blinks. His eyes meet yours.

“I’m your husband...” he says, flatly “Literally.”

You freeze. Then blink “Oh yeah.”

And then you squeal.

You start bouncing in place, grinning like crazy “You do like me!”

Zoro doesn’t even try to hide the tiny smile that pulls at his lips.

You drop his hand and throw your arms around his neck “Zoro, I like you so much!”

He catches you easily “Yeah, I know.”

And then you kiss him.

Right there. In the middle of the street.

It’s soft but sure. You lean into him. He lets it happen.

He kisses you back.

Chopper covers his mouth “Oh my god…!”

Nami gasps, then laughs “This is so going in my diary.”

Sanji nearly drops his cigarette “I hate this timeline.”

Zoro pulls back just a little, still holding you “You’re drunk.”

You whisper, “But not that drunk.”

He exhales slowly “Yeah. Sure.”

You rest your forehead against his “I love you.”

He answers without thinking “I love you too.”

Another pause.

“You just said that out loud?” Nami shouts.

Sanji groans loudly “This is a nightmare.”

Chopper claps his hooves “They’re in love! So cute!”

Zoro finally sets you back down, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Come on,” he says “Let’s go back before the idiots behind us explode.”

── .✦ Sanji:

The Thousand Sunny docks at a bright island full of music, shops, and food stalls. The air smells like grilled fish and sweet fruit. It’s the kind of place the crew loves.

“Let’s eat everything!” Luffy cheers.

“You say that on every island” you say, smiling.

“Because it’s always true!”

You walk beside Sanji, your fingers brushing his. He takes your hand without even looking and brings it to his lips.

“My beautiful angel,” he murmurs “Shall we find a feast worthy of your beauty?”

“Just one that won’t kill us,” you joke “Please.”

The crew ends up at a cozy restaurant near the center of town. There’s a band playing outside, and the tables are shaded with bright cloths. People are drinking and laughing everywhere.

“Find a seat,” Sanji says “I’ll handle the food.”

You touch his arm “Don’t take too long.”

“Only death could keep me from you, mon amour.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart does that little flutter. Sanji always talks like that. He means it too, in his own dramatic way.

You sit with Nami, Robin, and the others. Everyone’s talking and laughing. Luffy tries to steal bread from someone else’s plate. Typical.

At the counter, Sanji orders. That’s when two women walk in, locals, dressed in soft, colorful clothes. They spot him instantly.

“Oh no,” Nami mutters “Look who just walked into his life.”

You turn and see them. One’s got curly black hair, the other wears silver earrings that swing when she walks. Both walk straight to Sanji.

You watch calmly.

“Hi, stranger” says the taller girl.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” the short one asks, leaning close.

Sanji smiles politely “Just visiting. I’m with friends.”

“Too bad,” the tall one says “We were hoping you’d say you were alone.”

“Oh? Then I must break your hearts, ladies,” he says, still smiling “I’m already spoken for.”

Your chest warms at that. But still… he doesn’t leave.

Then the shorter one laughs and says, “Just one drink. That’s not cheating.”

Sanji hesitates. He looks toward your table. He meets your eyes.

You shrug with a soft smile “Go ahead.”

He raises an eyebrow “Are you sure?”

You nod “You’re too polite to say no anyway.”

He stands there for a moment longer. Then he sighs dramatically, presses a hand to his heart, and says, “Forgive me, my love. It’s only a drink.”

“Don’t fall in love with anyone” you say.

“Impossible. You already own my heart.”

He walks with them to a small table in the corner. They giggle. One pours him something pink into a glass. He keeps his hands to himself, posture perfect, but he talks, smiles, flatters. You can almost hear the compliments from here.

Zoro leans closer “You’re really letting him do that?”

“Why not?” you say, sipping your drink.

“He’s literally flirting right now.”

“No. He’s just being Sanji.”

Robin chuckles “You trust him.”

You nod “I do.”

Still, your eyes don’t leave him. Even if your heart knows he’s yours, it’s hard to ignore two girls laughing at his jokes.

After ten minutes, he stands up, bows, and walks back. One of them tries to touch his arm, but he gently steps away.

“Thank you, ladies. But my real treasure is waiting for me.”

When he sits beside you again, you hand him a glass of water.

“Done being too polite?” you ask.

He takes the glass “It was torture, I swear.”

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

“I was praying you’d come save me.”

You laugh “Liar.”

He leans closer “I only ever mean it when I talk to you.”

You smile and take a bite of your food.

But you don’t let go of his hand under the table.

The meal is almost done. Luffy’s plates are stacked like a tower. Usopp is bragging about something that never happened. You lean back in your chair, sipping a cold drink. Sanji sits beside you, close but calm.

You feel his warmth next to you. You feel… okay.

Until they show up again.

The same two girls from earlier. The tall one waves. The short one smiles like she’s just so happy to see him again.

“Is this seat taken?” the short one asks, already pulling over a chair next to Sanji.

“You’re back,” Sanji says politely “What a surprise.”

You don’t say anything. You’re watching. Listening.

They sit anyway.

Tall girl rests her arm on the back of Sanji’s chair “You left so fast earlier. We didn’t get to hear more about you.”

Short Girl adds, “We’ve never met someone so… elegant. You must be used to lots of attention.”

Sanji chuckles nervously “Please, you flatter me.”

You raise an eyebrow. He’s not leaning toward them, but he’s not moving away either. He’s being polite. Too polite.

You glance at Zoro. He’s smirking.

Nami mutters under her breath, “I’d slap them.”

Robin sips her drink “This is getting interesting.”

One of the girls tries to feed Sanji something off her plate.

You drop your fork.

Everyone goes silent for a second.

Sanji finally leans back “Ladies, I can’t—”

You stand up slowly. You smile. But not the nice kind.

You walk over and rest your hand gently on his shoulder. He turns to you like the sun just came out. You don’t look at him yet. You look at the girls.

And you say, loud and clear “That’s my husband.”

The words hit the table like thunder.

Both girls freeze. One blinks. The other pulls her hand back like she touched fire.

Sanji turns bright red. His eyes go wide. Then his mouth falls open “Y-your… husband?”

You finally look at him.

“Yes. You’re my husband, aren’t you?”

He starts nodding so fast it’s like his head is going to fall off.

“I’m your husband!” he says, grinning like an idiot, heart eyes in full bloom “Forever and ever! I belong to you, my love!”

He grabs your hands, kisses them one after the other “Your husband. Only yours. Always.”

You smile sweetly at the girls “Thanks for keeping him entertained.”

They stand up awkwardly, mutter something, and walk away quickly.

Sanji’s still holding your hands. Still blushing. Still staring at you like you just saved his life.

“I love when you get possessive” he whispers.

“You just love when I call you ‘husband’” you say.

“…Maybe.”

You lean down and kiss his cheek “Then behave, husband.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Sanji’s still holding your hands like they’re sacred treasure. The girls are gone, the crew is snickering quietly, and you finally sit back down beside him.

He hasn’t taken his eyes off you.

“You’re incredible” he whispers.

“You’re lucky I am.”

He gives you a dreamy sigh “Marry me again.”

“You’d flirt with the waitress at the wedding.”

He gasps “I would never!”

“You’d compliment her hair while holding my hand.”

“…I would,” he admits “But I’d still only see you.”

You give him a look. That look.

And then you glance down at his hands.

“Hey.”

“Yes, angel?”

“Why didn’t you wear your ring today?”

He blinks “What?”

You raise an eyebrow “It’s usually easier once they see that you’re taken.”

Sanji looks down at his bare left hand like he just noticed it. Then he immediately starts digging in his coat pocket.

“I—I was washing dishes this morning!” he says, panicking “I didn’t want to scratch it! I swear I meant to put it back on!”

“Uh-huh.”

He finally finds it. A simple gold band, a little worn from kitchen life, but still shining.

He grabs your hand and slides it on with dramatic care, like he’s proposing again.

“There. Forgive me?”

You hold up your hand and show him the matching one on your finger.

“I always wear mine.”

He groans “I’m the worst husband ever.”

You lean in close “You really are.”

He tilts his head, eyes hopeful “But I’m your husband.”

You sigh, pretending to be annoyed, but you can’t help the smile creeping across your face.

“Yeah,” you say softly “You are.”

He lights up again.

“You make me crazy” you say.

He kisses your hand “Then let’s be crazy together.”

“Get a room, this is disgusting.” Zoro says while drinking.

“Nooo, no room. I want to see.” Brook replies getting punched by Nami before he can even do his usual laugh.

The crew laugh but you don’t put your eyes away from your husband, blushing and smiling softly and he does the same.

── .✦ Law:

The fire crackles in the middle of the camp. Meat sizzles, drinks pour, and the air is full of laughter and victory.

The war is over. Kaido is down.

Tonight is for celebration.

You're sitting close to Law, sake cup in hand. It’s warm in your chest now. The fourth cup? Maybe fifth? You lost count. Whatever. You’re relaxed. Happy. Tipsy.

You lean back, stretch, and laugh at a joke Usopp just told, even if you didn’t fully hear it.

Shachi blinks “She’s having fun. Someone mark the date.”

“I’m telling her you said that” Ikkaku warns, grinning.

Law glances at you “You good?”

You grin “Mmhmm. Sake’s nice.”

He hums but watches you for a beat longer.

Across the fire, Luffy stands on a barrel “This party needs more energy!”

Sanji spins around at your laugh “Y/N-chwaaaan! You look radiant in firelight! Please, dance with me!”

You shake your head and gesture at Law “Taken.”

That single word makes Penguin choke on his drink.

Kid raises an eyebrow “Taken, huh?”

You smirk and lean into Law’s space, voice teasing, “Don’t worry, Captain. I’ll make it obvious.”

Law narrows his eyes “What does that mean?”

You grab his hat, pluck it off his head, and drop it on your own. It’s too big and slides over your eyes.

Shachi lets out a shriek-laugh “Oh my god, she’s wearing his hat!”

“Y/N, give it back.” Law says flatly, reaching for it.

You tilt your head “No.”

“Give it—”

“Say please.”

He stares at you “You’re drunk.”

“Didn’t say no” you sing.

Zoro makes a low sound that might be a laugh. Sanji, meanwhile, is clenching his wine bottle like it personally betrayed him “She’s flirting with him? With that guy?”

Nami snorts “They’re sitting in each other’s space, Sanji. She’s on him.”

“Tragedy!” Sanji whispers.

You grab Law’s face with both hands “Hey.”

“What.” he says stiffly.

“You know I like you, right?”

The fire quiets. Everyone freezes. Even Luffy stops mid-meat-bite.

Law tenses “What are you doing?”

“Reminding you. In case you forgot.”

Shachi and Penguin look away. Bepo buries his face in his paws. Ikkaku groans “Oh no, it’s happening.”

You poke Law’s cheek “I like your murder face.”

Kid laughs out loud “Murder face?!”

“Shut up” Law growls, glaring across the flames.

You curl up next to him, still wearing his hat “So handsome.”

“Y/N,” he mutters, voice low “Stop.”

You tilt your head “Why? You’re mine, right?”

“…Yes.”

Usopp drops his cup.

“Excuse me?!” Sanji shouts.

“Did we just get a whole relationship reveal during party time?” Nami blinks.

Robin smiles gently “I was wondering how long they’d keep it quiet.”

Kid looks between you and Law “You? With him? Damn.”

“Respect.” Heat adds, raising his drink.

You raise yours too, still leaning into Law “Cheers.”

Law looks like he wants the ground to swallow him.

You wiggle your fingers in Law’s hair, still wearing his oversized hat.

“You know,” you say, voice soft but playful, “you’re kind of impossible to ignore when you blush like that.”

Law tries to pull his face away, but you catch his chin gently “Don’t be shy.”

He groans, but you can tell he’s smiling behind the cup he’s raising to hide his face.

Sanji is practically vibrating with jealousy a few feet away “Oi! Don’t hog the captain! She’s mine too, damn it!”

You laugh “Sanji, you’re sweet, but Law’s got me.”

Law’s eyes flash toward Sanji “Careful.”

You glance back at Law, eyes sparkling “You know you’re the hottest boyfriend I could ask for.”

Law freezes. Then, deadpan but with a tiny smile, he says, “I’m your husband.”

The camp goes silent.

For a split second, your brain glitches—wait, husband?—and then you explode, louder than anyone expected, “OMG YAYYY! I FORGOT YOU MARRIED ME! BEST NEWS EVER!”

You throw your hands up in the air, practically bouncing in your seat like you just won the lottery. Your smile stretches impossibly wide, and your eyes sparkle with giddy excitement.

“Law! We’re married! Can you believe it?!” you gush, nearly knocking over your sake cup “I totally forgot you married me! I’m so lucky! This is the best news ever!”

Law’s eyes widen as he watches you go full-on happy dance mode, his usual calm cracking. He reaches out quickly, steadying you by the shoulders.

“Hey, hey, sit down.” he says with a low chuckle, his voice gentle but firm.

You wobble slightly but don’t stop grinning “Can’t! I’m too excited!”

He sighs, shaking his head fondly, trying again to settle you “You’re going to fall.”

You catch his hands, laughing “Maybe, but it’s worth it!”

Law’s cheeks darken just a bit, but he can’t help the soft smile tugging at his lips “You’re ridiculous.”

You lean closer, eyes bright and teasing “Ridiculous? I prefer when you call me adorable.”

A few of your crew are watching, amused. Penguin smirks “She really lights up when she talks about you.”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen her this happy” Shachi adds.

Law’s hand stays steady on your shoulder, and after a moment, you finally settle back down, still glowing.

“Don’t scare me like that” he mutters quietly.

You squeeze his hand “Never. You’re stuck with me... husband.”

He groans dramatically but the warmth in his eyes says otherwise “I’m already regretting marrying you.”

You laugh “Good.”

Luffy’s mouth is wide open, still holding half a meat leg “Wait… married?!”

Nami drops her drink “You two are married?!”

Kid bursts out laughing “Well, no wonder you’re so attached, freaky doctor!”

Sanji’s jaw drops, completely stunned “Husband?!” He looks like he might faint.

Bepo squeaks and hides behind a tree.

You bounce happily “Yep! Secret’s out! We’re married, but only the crew knew.”

Law sighs, adjusting his hat back onto his head “I wanted to keep it quiet.”

“Too late now! You said that yourself!” You grin.

Robin chuckles “Well, congratulations. I always thought you two were close.

Zoro shrugs, grumbling, “Figures.”

You lean into Law, wrapping your arm around his waist “Guess you can’t escape me.”

Law looks resigned but happy “Good.”

Sanji crosses his arms, muttering, “I need a drink…”

You giggle and whisper to Law, “Worth it.”

Law just shakes his head with a small smile.

The campfire flickers as everyone recovers from the big reveal. You lean against Law, still smiling but your eyes hold something deeper, a shadow behind the joy.

Law notices. His gaze sharpens “You’re quiet now.”

You take a shaky breath “I… I'm drinking to forget, but it's not working.”

His eyebrows knit “Forget what?”

You glance away, voice low “How you almost died in the fight. I saw you, Law. It scared me.”

For a long moment, no one speaks. The warmth from the fire feels heavier.

Law’s usual hard edge softens, and he reaches out slowly to pat his hat on your head.

“Hey” he says quietly, voice gentle.

Law reaches out and pats his hat gently on your head. His voice is low, almost careful.

“You’re important to me.”

You look up at him, surprised but steady “Same here.”

His hand lingers a moment on your shoulder before he pulls back slightly, the usual sharpness softened.

He almost forgets you’re in public, his hand lingering on your shoulder like he wants to pull you close. The tough captain’s guard drops for just a second.

Kid smirks “Whoa, Law getting soft.”

Penguin frowns, eyeing your sake cup “You’ve had enough.”

You reach for it again.

His hand shoots out, stopping you “No more.”

Shachi nods “We need you clear, not drunk.”

You pout “But I’m having fun!”

Bepo hops closer, worried “Captain, she’s too loud already.”

Law stands, arms crossed, watching you “They’re right. No more drinking.”

You frown but lower the cup “Only because you said so.”

Law’s lips twitch into a rare smile “Good.”

Your crew surrounds you protectively.

Ikkaku teases, “Lucky he’s soft with you.”

You lean on Law, feeling safe “I am.”

Sanji mutters, “Unbelievable...”

Law’s hand slides around your waist, pulling you close “Stop worrying now. Stay with me.”

You sigh happily “Always.”

── .✦ Shanks:

The sun is high. The air smells like salt and grilled fish.

The Red Force is docked near a lively island. There's music, laughter, and drunk pirates everywhere. Shanks is somewhere near the tavern, talking too loudly, laughing like nothing in the world is wrong.

You sip your drink under a shaded canopy near the docks, far from him but close enough to hear his stupid laugh.

You haven’t spoken in four days. Not since the fight.

"You're impossible" you’d said.

"You're too stubborn" he'd answered.

Then silence.

Now? You're pretending he doesn't exist. He's pretending the same. Except that you know he sees you. Just like you see him. Always.

“Why are you even mad?” Lucky Roux had asked.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t even know anymore.

“Wanna talk about it?” Yasopp tried.

You glared at him until he walked away.

Suddenly, a shadow falls over your table. You glance up.

It’s a man. Not part of the crew.

Tall. Dark skin. A silver earring. Broad shoulders and a smirk you don’t trust.

“You look lonely” he says, leaning close.

You raise a brow “I’m not.”

“No one should drink alone on a day like this.”

You say nothing. But you don’t tell him to go away either.

From across the street, you feel Shanks before you see him. He’s leaning against a wall, one foot crossed over the other, grinning lazily.

He’s watching.

Of course he is.

The stranger sits down beside you “Name’s Davor” he says, offering a hand.

You shake it, quick “Mm.”

“What’s a beautiful woman like you doing away from the party?”

You smile, small. Still not interested. Still mad.

But then your eyes meet his again... Shanks.

He tips his head slightly, smug as ever. His eyes are saying, Go ahead. Play. You’re still mine.

Your blood heats up.

Fine.

You turn to the stranger, eyes a little softer “You look strong” you say, laying a hand lightly on his arm.

He grins, surprised “I train a lot.”

You let your fingers trace the curve of his bicep “I can tell.”

From the corner of your eye, Shanks pushes off the wall.

Still smiling.

Still calm.

But his jaw is tight now. You know that look. He’s coming.

Davor leans closer “Careful. You keep looking at me like that, and I’ll think I have a chance.”

“Yeah, but careful...” you say, smirking “I bite.”

“I like that.”

You let out a fake little laugh, sweet and mean at the same time.

Shanks steps behind the man without a sound “Hey,” he says, cheerful “Enjoying the view?”

Davor looks up “R...Red-Haired Shanks?”

“Red-Haired Shanks, yes.” He nods at you “That seat’s taken.”

Davor blinks “She didn’t say she was—”

“She didn’t have to” Shanks cuts in, voice low now.

You lean back, sipping your drink, acting bored.

But your heart is racing.

Davor glances between you both “I didn’t mean any disrespec—”

Shanks claps a heavy hand on his shoulder, all teeth “Course not. Just be careful. Some things look unclaimed when they’re not.”

Davor stands quickly “Got it. Sorry, ma’am.”

He walks away fast.

Silence.

You look at Shanks.

He looks back, eyes hot and shining.

Neither of you says anything.

Then, he leans down, his lips near your ear.

"That was cute," he murmurs "Trying to make me jealous."

You roll your eyes “Didn’t try. Just succeeded, or you wouldn't even be here.”

He chuckles “You done being mad?”

You shrug “Maybe.”

He reaches for your drink, takes a sip without asking “Good. 'Cause I’ve missed you.”

You don’t reply.

But you don’t stop him when he sits beside you either.

Not this time.

Shanks stretches his legs out under the table like he owns the world, like he didn’t just interrupt a conversation you were clearly enjoying.

He takes another sip of your drink. Loudly.

You don't look at him.

He waits a second. Two.

Then “So... was that your type?” he asks, too casual “The whole broody and tall thing?”

You blink at the horizon, bored. Still not speaking.

Shanks grins. He thinks this is funny "Should I cut my hair and start lifting barrels just to compete?"

Still nothing.

"Hello?" he singsongs, nudging your knee with his "Cat got your tongue? Or did Davor take that too?"

You sigh. Long. Loud. Then, you stand.

His smile falters just a second.

"Where you goin’, sweetheart?"

You don’t answer.

You walk.

Back toward the bar. Back to the party.

Back to Davor, who’s drinking something bitter and looking around like he wants to vanish into the floor.

You sit next to him again.

He jumps “Uh—didn’t expect to see you again.”

You smile sweetly “Why? Did my Captain scare you?”

“...A little.” He laughs nervously.

You lean in anyway, eyes half-lidded, voice soft “Don’t worry. He’s not gonna do anything. I won't let him.”

Across the square, Shanks is still sitting at the table. Watching.

You meet his eyes.

He raises his cup in a little mock-toast. That damn smirk is back, the one that says, Go ahead. You’ll come crawling back anyway.

So you turn back to Davor.

“I didn’t get to finish admiring these muscles earlier” you say, touching his arm again. Slower this time.

Davor blushes, but tries to play it cool “You really wanna keep poking the dragon?”

You grin “Why not? It’s not like he’s breathing fire yet.”

Behind you, you hear a whistle.

It’s Shanks.

You don’t turn around.

You just smile wider.

Let him feel the burn this time.

Davor laughs awkwardly when you run a finger down his arm “You’re bold...” he says.

You smirk “You’re still here.”

He shrugs “Only because he hasn’t killed me yet.”

You glance sideways. Shanks is still at the same table, drink untouched, elbow on the wood, chin resting on his hand and eyes fixed on you.

His smile is now gone.

He stands.

The chair screeches back. He walks slow, boots steady on the wood. No smirk now.

You brace, but don’t look away.

Davor sees him coming and tenses “Alright, maybe I should leave now—”

“No,” Shanks says, voice sharp “I’ll talk.”

You tilt your head “Oh? Now you want to talk?”

“I’ve always wanted to talk.” His eyes burn into yours “But you were too busy flirting with that guy’s forearms.”

You lift your chin “I wasn’t flirting. I was proving a point.”

“To who?!”

“To you!”

He runs a hand through his red hair, frustrated “Y/N, what do you want from me right now?”

“I love making you jealous” you say, arms folded, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

He steps closer “I’m not jealous” he says, jaw tight. Then softer, “Just… stop.”

His voice lowers even more “You were right. About the fight. I was stubborn. I didn’t listen. I acted like a damn idiot.”

You blink.

You weren’t expecting that.

“I…” You shift your weight “I don’t even remember why we fought.”

He stares at you “Are you serious?”

You nod “No clue.”

For a moment, the two of you just… stand there. Then his lips twitch. A small, surprised smile. It grows. That warm Shanks smile. Real.

You smile too.

“Wanna start over?” you ask, voice lighter now.

He nods, eyes soft “Yeah. I’d like that.”

You hold out your hand “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N. I think I have a crush on you.”

He laughs, taking your hand, pulling you in close.

“Babe,” he murmurs, brushing your hair back, “I’m your husband.”

You grin, leaning into his chest “God, I love when you talk domestic to me.”

He kisses your forehead.

“Let’s go finish this somewhere more private.” he whispers.

“Lead the way, Captain” you say, arms wrapping around him.

Davor clears his throat in the distance “So uh… I’m just gonna go—”

“Good call” Shanks says without looking at him.

"Oh Devor!" you call making him turn in surprise "For real... nice arms."

You smirk, still tucked against Shanks’ side, while Davor nods awkwardly and shoots a terrified glance his way.

Shanks turns to you and flicks your forehead. You pout, rubbing the spot like it actually hurt, acting confused about why he did it.

He smiles at you before leaving a kiss on the same spot on your forehead "Idiot, I love you. Now if you're done here..."

And just like that the storm ends.

── .✦ Ace:

The sun is high when the ship docks near a strange little island. Green trees, bright flowers, and weird fruit hanging from every branch. It almost looks like a dream.

You lean on the railing, watching as Ace stretches his arms beside you.

“Another island, another chance to explore” he says with that wide grin of his.

You poke his side “Another chance for you to pull dumb pranks?”

He laughs “No promises.”

He always pranks you. Hiding your shoes. Filling your drink with chili powder. That time he pretended to fall overboard just to hear you scream his name.

You still haven’t gotten him back.

Not yet.

As the crew unloads, you stay close to Ace. You already know the plan.

Marco leans in and whispers in your ear, “You sure you wanna do this?”

You nod “He deserves it.”

Thatch tosses a weird purple fruit into your hands “This will do the trick. Looks freaky, but it’s just sweet inside. Take a bite, pretend you lose your memory. He’ll freak.”

Ace is walking ahead, clueless. You smirk. Time for revenge.

The moment comes during lunch.

Everyone is sitting under a big tree. The sun is warm. Laughter fills the air.

You sit beside Ace and hold up the fruit “Hey, look what I found.”

Ace raises an eyebrow “That looks… sketchy.”

You shrug “You afraid of a fruit now?”

He scoffs “No. I just don’t want you turning into a duck or something.”

You grin and take a bite.

Everyone goes quiet.

You chew slowly, then suddenly drop the fruit and grab your head “Ow… what… what’s happening…?”

Ace sits up fast “Babe?”

You look around, eyes wide “Who are all of you?!”

He freezes “Wait, what?”

“I... I don’t remember anything! Why am I here?! Who are you?!” you shout, pointing at Ace.

"Yeah sure... nice prank, now you can stop alreaady." he says rolling his eyes at you.

You try your best to stay serious, confused and scared... and it actually works because one look over at you and Ace scrambles to his knees “It’s me! Ace! We’re pirates! You love me, remember?!”

You stare at him like he’s a stranger “Pirates?! I don’t even like the ocean!”

You hear muffled laughs behind you, Thatch’s hand over his mouth, Marco shaking with silent laughter, Izou biting his lip so hard it might bleed.

Ace grabs your shoulders “You’re joking. Right? Right?!”

You blink at him, dead serious “Please don’t hurt me! Someone help!”

He turns pale “What?! Hurt you?! I would never! I—guys, help! What do I do?! Should we call a doctor?! Is there a doctor fruit?! I don't know!!”

You sniff, faking a tear “I don’t even know your name!”

He holds your face gently, panic all over him “It’s Ace! Portgas D. Ace! We’ve been together for years! You sleep on my chest every night, you steal my food, you… love me.”

You’re so close on giving up already, you hate seeing him like this. But then you look over at the crew and they start silently making gestures to make you continue it.

And you do.

You’re back on the ship.

Ace insisted.

“If she sees our room,” he told the crew, “she’ll remember everything. Right?”

Marco just raised a brow “Maybe.”

Thatch was trying not to burst into laughter again “Yeah, maybe.”

So now you’re walking beside Ace, pretending to be confused but curious.

You glance around the deck, eyes wide “This is… a nice boat.”

He corrects you instantly “Ship.”

“Right. Sorry, bro.”

Ace flinches “Bro?”

You smile sweetly “Yeah. You’re being really nice to me, bro. I appreciate it.”

He narrows his eyes “You called me ‘lovebug’ yesterday.”

You shrug “Guess I was weird before the memory loss.”

He mutters something under his breath.

When you reach your shared room, he pushes the door open with hopeful eyes.

Inside, it’s warm and messy. Blankets kicked half off the bed. His shirt on the floor. Your hairbrush sitting on the dresser.

He points at the pictures stuck to the wall “See? That’s us. Kissing.”

You tilt your head “Wow. Looks like I liked you a lot, bro.”

He looks physically wounded “Please stop calling me that.”

You walk over to the bed and flop down “It’s comfy in here.”

Ace stands there, running a hand through his hair “You really don’t remember any of this?”

You shake your head with wide, fake-innocent eyes “Nope. But you seem chill. Kinda cute, too.”

He perks up “Cute?!”

“Like… for a brother.”

He groans “I’m not your brother!”

You stare at him, unblinking “Sorry. Bro.”

Ace falls to his knees beside the bed and grabs your hands “Okay, no. That’s it. This has gone too far. Bro here. Bro there. Bro??? I’m your husband!”

Your eyes go wide “What?!”

“Yeah?” he shouts “We sleep together, we travel together, we fight together, we’re in love! You kiss me every morning! You steal the blankets! You chew too loud but I still love you! And don’t make me say what we do closed door now!”

The rest of the crew looks annoyed by this last sentence.

“It’s not like you’re quite “closed door” anyway…” Marco says as if he’s scolding you both.

But Ace doesn’t even seem to care. He just stares at you with the sorriest expression you ever seen on him.

You sit up fast, eyes softening at Ace. The prank suddenly doesn’t feel as funny anymore.

“…Ace.”

“I don’t care if you don’t remember me,” he says, voice quiet now “I’ll make you fall for me again. I’ll tell you everything, every story, every stupid moment. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

Your chest tightens.

You bite your lip, then finally blurt out, “Ace… I’m sorry. It was a prank.”

He blinks “What?”

“I didn’t think you’d fall for it that hard! I thought you were just playing along until a minute ago!” you say, grabbing his hands “It was Thatch’s idea. I just wanted to get you back! I didn’t mean to… Ace, I’m so sorry.”

He stares at you in silence.

Then slowly leans back.

Then throws his hands in the air and screams into the room.

“WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO ME?!”

You’re hugging him, trying not to laugh and cry at the same time.

Then you hear a snort.

Then a muffled cackle.

Thatch is holding his stomach, tears running down his face “OH MY GOD. ‘BRO?!’ BRO?! I’M YOUR HUSBAND?!’ I’m gonna DIE.”

Marco leans against the wall, arms crossed, shaking his head with a small smile “I warned you not to prank someone more dramatic than you.”

Izou is fanning himself “I almost broke character when she said he was ‘kinda cute’... That was brutal.”

Ace whirls on them “You were all in on this uh?”

Thatch throws both hands in the air “Obviously!”

“You could’ve given me a heart attack!” Ace says.

Marco smirks “I was watching to make sure you didn’t set the ship on fire with your emotions.”

Izou snickers “That speech, though. The blankets. The chewing. I was this close to crying.”

You nudge Ace “Aw. They all thought it was sweet.”

Ace glares at you, then at the others “You’re all monsters.”

Thatch shrugs “She warned you. Payback, remember?”

Marco points at you “Honestly, the acting was solid.”

“Thank you,” you say, bowing slightly “I trained for this moment my entire relationship.”

Ace groans and hides his face in your shoulder “I hate all of you.”

You stroke his hair with a grin “Still love me, though.”

He mumbles something like “unfortunately” again.

Thatch high-fives you as he walks out “Legendary. Absolutely legendary. That man almost proposed for a second time out of panic.”

Izou whispers, “I bet if we kept it going for ten more minutes, he’d have built you a wedding altar and remake the whole wedding vows.”

Ace grabs a pillow and throws it at him.

The crew finally clears out after what feels like hours of teasing, laughing, and Ace sulking like a kicked puppy.

You’re lying on the bed now, still in your shared room, staring up at the ceiling.

Ace is standing by the window, arms crossed, his back to you.

You sit up slowly “Okay, how bad is it?”

He turns around, eyebrows furrowed “What?”

“You’re planning something, aren’t you?” you say “You’ve gone quiet. That’s when it’s most dangerous.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just walks over and sits down next to you.

You raise an eyebrow “So? What’s the plan? Fake poison in my tea? Switching out my shampoo with mayonnaise?”

He lets out a breath, like he’s been holding it.

Then, instead of answering, he leans in and gently presses his lips to your forehead.

You blink “…What was that for?”

Ace shrugs “Just felt like it.”

He pulls you close, your head resting against his warm chest, heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

“I really thought I lost you,” he says softly “Even if it was just for a few minutes… it felt real.”

You swallow, guilt creeping back in “I didn’t know it’d hit you that hard.”

“I didn’t know it would, either,” he whispers “But hearing you say you didn’t remember me… it scared me. More than I expected.”

You look up at him, surprised to find his expression completely open. No smirk, no teasing. Just soft eyes and a gentle smile.

“I thought you’d be busy drawing diagrams for your next prank” you murmur.

“Meh,” he says, brushing a hand through your hair “Not tonight.”

You chuckle “Wow. Ace skipping revenge? That’s suspicious.”

He laughs too, but it’s quiet “I’m serious. I just wanna hold you right now.”

He pulls the blanket over both of you, his arms wrapped around your waist, his nose brushing your hair.

You press a small kiss to his collarbone “You’re kinda sweet when you’re not threatening chaos.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he says, smiling “I’m still gonna get you back one day.”

“Sure, sure. But for now?”

“For now,” he says, kissing your temple again, “I just wanna be with my award-winning actress of the Grand Line… Ladies and gentlemen, my wife Y/N.”

You laugh into his chest “I’m the luckiest wife in the world.”

His fingers trace lazy circles on your back “And I’m the happiest ‘bro’ alive.”

You groan and smack his chest lightly “Don’t ruin the moment.”

He kisses your cheek “Okay, okay. No more ‘bro’.”

Just soft smiles. Quiet breathing. Warm skin. No pranks.

At least for now.

[milkdudsss]

SatoSugu trying on your Bras?

Random oneshot that I got the idea for when I was scrolling the SatoSugu x reader tag

Pure crack, fluff, suggestive of you squint, SatoSugu are dorks

It was a peaceful day. You were out on a small shopping spree with Shoko, and Satoru and Suguru were at home snuggling in bed together.

Suguru was reading his book peacefully until he felt Satoru shift his head to the direction of your shared closet.

“Do you… ever wonder what it feels like?”

Suguru put his book down and sighed.

“I literally have no clue what you are talking about right now.”

“I mean like, the weight of them. Do they feel any different, or are they just there?”

“What are you on about right now?”

Satoru let out a dramatic huff and rolled his eyes back to Suguru.

“Boobs, obviously!”

Suguru stared at his pale boyfriend in confusion.

“Huh?”

Satoru got out of bed with a jump, taking half the blankets with him.

“I’m saying that I want to know what it’s like! I want to feel the weight of a pair of bazonkas on me like a real woman!”

Bazonkas? Satoru must’ve completely lost his mind.

“Don’t you understand me??” He wailed

Suguru pulled the blankets back up and went back to reading.

“Not. At. All.”

“Augh! The betrayal!” Satoru moaned as he fell back onto the bed.

“If you’re so curious just go try on one of y/n’s bras or something.” Suguru said as he gave Satoru a slight shove with his foot.

That made Satoru jump up excitedly.

“That’s it! You’re a genius, come on let’s try!” He said, throwing Sugurus book to the side and pulling him towards the closet.

“Wha- Hey! I was talking about you not me idiot!”

Satoru opened the closet door with a flair and started pulling out all sorts of lacey things.

“It can’t be just me, if she finds out I’ll get in sooo much trouble!”

“If that’s the case then won’t I also be getting in trouble?” Suguru said, dodging a red thong Satoru threw his way.

Satoru came out of the closet with a handful of bras and set them on the bed.

“Well yeah… but it’ll be split between the two of us so it won’t be as bad!” He said, as he stripped his shirt off, throwing it across the room somewhere.

Suguru sighed and began to remove his shirt too. “Fine. But I’m telling her this was your idea if it comes down to it.”

“Yea yea whatever, here put this one on.”

Satoru held out a purple bra, decorated with lace.

Suguru took it from his hands and began to put it on. He faintly remembered seeing it the first time you got it, but he was too distracted by other things to actually notice all the small details on it.

When he turned around he saw Satoru stuffing a silky blue bra with socks.

“You look…”

Satoru turned to face him fully. “Look sexy as hell? I totally see why she has so many now.”

“I was gonna say stupid.”

“Ugh rude!” Satoru says as he throws a sock at Suguru.

Suguru catches it smoothly and lets out a laugh.

“I know, I’m sooo mean. Now help me take this thing off before she gets home.”

Suguru turns around and moves his hair over his shoulder.

“Aww but I was having fun! Are you sure you wanna take it off already?”

Suguru just rolls his eyes at him.

“Yes Satoru, now take it off please.”

Satoru laughs at the annoyance in his tone and reaches up to help remove the bra.

Only… the clips are a little finicky, and that strap looks twisted, and this clamp wasn’t as hard to put on as it is to take off.”

Satorus palm are starting to get sweaty and then Suguru asks, “what’s taking so long? Just unclip it already.”

“I’m trying! It just won’t come undone!”

Suguru turns around.

“Alright let me try yours, it can’t be that hard”

“You can try, but this thing is locked to hell and back.”

Satoru turns around and Suguru tries to unclip the bra for him.

“What the hell-“

“See I told you so!”

“Just give me a minute! I know I can get it…”

Suguru furrows his brows and tries to concentrate on unhooking it, but it’s just not coming undone.

“Oh god, my beautiful nipples will forever be hidden from this poor world! I’m like a maiden locked in Chasity!” Satoru cries.

“Stop being so dramatic.” Suguru says, wiping his palms on his pants “We can just cut it off if we have to.”

Satoru gasps “No we can’t! We’ll get in trouble for sure if she finds out…”

“Well how else are we supposed to-“

Their argument was cut short by the sounds of keys unlocking their apartment door. They looked at each other in unison, and thought one thing:

“Shit.”

Satoru scrambled around for his long forgotten T shirt while Suguru ran around collecting all of the lingerie Satoru had thrown around earlier.

“Shit shit shit, where’s my fucking shirt?!”

Your footsteps were starting to get closer now and the boys panic was only growing more.

“No time, quick!” Suguru grabbed Satoru by the hair and pulled him into bed under the covers with him right as you opened the door.

“H-hi honey!” Satoru chirped nervously, pulling the blanket up to his chin.

You set your shopping bags down and walked to the side of the bed.

“Aww were you two having fun without me? I wanna join too!”

The two began to sweat as you got closer.

“I- It’s not like that! We were just uhm… uh…”

“Come on, there’s no need to be embarrassed, let’s just finish where you two left off yea?” You grabbed the edge of the blanket.

“Nonononono-“ They screeched, trying to keep their bodies hidden.

To their horror however, you managed to pry the blanket out of their hands, revealing their lace-covered bodies.

“What the fu-“

[daddydixonscrossbow]

You show up to Daryl’s house after getting hurt on a run

You limped your way through the gate, shooting down everyone asks about you being alright.

“Yeah I just hurt my knee, gotta go rest it.”

“Rolled my ankle, I’m fine.”

It was always something different, but never the actual reason. You made your way to Daryl’s front door, knocking on it. Dogs bark alerts from inside and a few seconds later, the door swings open.

“Hey.”

“I need your help.”

He moves aside, allowing you to come in. Dog jumps up, earning a whimper from your lips and Daryl snaps, “Dog. Down.”

You turn around and Daryl’s eyes are moving up and down your body, “Please tell me that ain’t yer’blood.”

You force a small smile, laughing slightly as you raise your shirt, “I took a tumble, dealing with some walkers..” you turn and Daryl moves closer to you, “Looks like ya did more than that. Ya ain’t bit are ya?” His hand moves your shirt up more, slow and gentle.

You shake your head, “No, I’m not. I just fell on some rocks after taking down two of them.”

“Goddamn. A’right, hold on.”

You move to sit on the couch, wincing and groaning lowly as you do. Dog comes and sits between your knees, tilting his head back indicating he wants scratches. You laugh slightly, “Hi, boy.”

“A’right.” Daryl walks around and sits down behind you, “Can ya take that off?”

You nod, sliding your bag off of your shoulder and reaching for your shirt. You gasp, pausing as you tilt your head, “Shit.”

Daryl lays his hand on your not injured side, “Here. I’ll just cut it. Y’don’t like this shirt do ya?”

“Don’t make me laugh.” You sigh, “It hurts.”

“M’serious.” He mumbles, “M’gonna cut it.”

You hold still as he pushes the blade through the thin fabric, his knives were always sharp so it cut through easy, “There.” He pushes the split fabric open, “This is gonna hurt, M’sorry.”

You take a deep breath, trying to brace yourself, but that didn’t work. You grip the back of the couch, pushing your forehead against your bicep as you breathe through the pain, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“I know. I know.” He grips your shoulder with his free hand, dabbing off the blood with the cloth, “M’sorry, darlin’.” He rubs his thumb over your shoulder, “Almost done. Are ya hurt anywhere else?”

“My hip, but I think that’s just bruised.”

“Let me see.” He leans back, tossing the dirty cloth onto the coffee table. He helps you stand up and you undo your belt and jeans, pushing them down slightly, “How bad is it?”

“It ain’t good.” He shakes his head, “But jus’as y’said. It’s bruised.” He helps you sit back down, “I need t’clean that one more time, then I’ll bandage it up.”

You nod, “Go for it.” You grip the back of the couch, your other hand gripping your knee. The stinging pain returns and you let out a whine, arching your back away from him, “Sorry. Sorry.”

“I know it hurts. S’okay.” He holds your shoulder with his hand, “M’gonna patch ya up now.” He grabs gauze and the roll of medical tape, ripping some off with his teeth, “I’ll go get ya a shirt, you can sleep here t’night. Wanna make sure yer’good.”

You nod, biting your lip as he gently rubs his fingers over the tape, “A’right. Good?”

“I think so.” You nod, smiling as Dog comes back over.

“Be right back.” Daryl gets up and makes his way upstairs. You pat the couch for dog to come up and he jumps up, resting his head in your lap. Your fingers gently drag over his fur.

Daryl comes back down and stops when he sees the scene in front of him, “That dog loves you.”

“You seem jealous.” You tease and Daryl scoffs, “Nah, I ain’t jealous over no dog.” Dog perks his head up and looks at Daryl. You laugh, pointing at the animal, “He thinks different.”

“Fine, you can sleep down here with him then.”

“Now wait a minute.” You hold a finger up and Daryl tosses the shirt at you, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He smirks and reaches down to scratch Dog’s head. You go to stand up and Daryl moves around, helping you, “easy.”

“I’m good.” You nod, “Can you cut this the rest of the way, please?”

He nods, pulling out his knife. He grips the fabric and slices through it, “I’ll.. be upstairs.” He turns walking towards the steps, whistling, “Dog. Come on.”

You smirk as dog jumps down, running up the steps.

You pull the fabric of your shirt down, dropping it to the floor by your bag. You slip on Daryl’s shirt and kick off your shoes as you undo your jeans. They join the pile of your stuff and you walk over to the kitchen, washing up quick before making your way upstairs.

You walk into Daryl’s room, smirking as you see him lying there shirtless in bed, dog’s head resting on his chest, “Hey. Buddy. Make room.” Dog perks up, moving to the end of the bed and you crawl into bed, laying next to Daryl.

“C’mere boy.” You make a kissing sound with your lips and dog comes and lays next to you, Daryl on your other side.

“You and that damn Dog.” Daryl grumbles with a laugh, “I think you like him more than ya like me.”

“Not possible. He couldn’t have helped me like you did tonight, speaking of.” You turn your head, “Thank you for that, by the way.” He nods, “Not a problem.” He leans in pressing a kiss to your head, “just means ya owe me one.”

Here’s a kiss for likin’ and rebloggin’ 💋

[itsmarsss]

Vulgar Display of Power [Miguel Diaz x fem!Reader] (Cobra Kai)

You can never fucking beat him in a fight and it's getting frustrating.

Request: omg more miguel please!!! smutty if u can xx already dating if you want? Fic title comes from my (second) favorite Pantera album. Word count: 4,350 Warnings: SMUT. established relationship, theres plot but it only serves to justify the sex lol, i use present tense in this, degrading, first time sub!miguel kind of, handjob, fingering, oral sex, penetration (p in v), semi-public sex (i guess? no one's around but the location isn't exactly private), a lot of use of pet names (baby, babe, love, mi amor), so much swearing. obviously no one is a minor here I don't mention much context but can be read as hs senior year or later, doesn't really matter. if you're a minor kindly keep away from my blog and this fic please

“Fuck!”  You yell out as Sensei Lawrence announces Miguel’s win. In turn of your frustration, Miguel sports a grin that playfully mocked you.

Now don’t get it twisted, you’re not a bad fighter. You’re not even a good one- you’re great. The best, except for…

“Diaz! Good one.” Sensei Lawrence praises.

“Nice, dude!” Hawk comes to fist bump him.

Tory comes to you. “Girl get it together! You’re better than that!”

“I’m fucking trying.”

Miguel hears the two of you talking and decides to insert himself into the conversation. “Come on, it’s not a big deal.”

“I say this with love but it is a big deal and I’m gonna find a way to beat you.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.”

[. . .]

“Hey,” you hear Miguel call from behind you, turning around for a split second to look at him before getting back to packing your stuff to leave the dojo. 

“Hey.”

“So, are we still on for tonight?”

“Yeah. I just wanna go home first and take a shower.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Hey are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“Something seems… weird.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, babe,” you tell him, bringing a hand to his face and lightly tapping his cheek.

“You sure?”

“Yes! I just said it is!” You realize you blew up at him for no reason, immediately feeling bad for it and apologizing, not managing to look at him. “Sorry.”

“See? That’s what I mean!”

“I really am sorry.”

“Okay, but something’s clearly wrong.”

You stay silent, and he walks up to you, cornering you so you’d face him.

“What’s going on?”

Honestly, you don’t want to tell him. Because it would sound stupid. Because it is stupid. You don’t even exactly know why it had gotten so under your skin this time. 

“It’s fine. I’m just a bit off today.”

“You don’t have to talk about it, but you don't have to lie either.”

“Fine. You wanna know what’s wrong? I’m frustrated because you keep beating me.”

“What?”

“Every single time we’re picked to fight I just can’t fucking beat you. And yes, I’m glad you don’t go easy on me, cause that would be like a million times worse, but I'm frustrated with myself. You’re the only one I've never fully beat in a match. The closest I’ve ever gotten to that was a tie.”

“Well most of the time it ends up in a tie.” 

“Yeah but none of the time did it end with me winning.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this.”

“Of course you don’t. I just feel like if I still can’t beat you then have I really been getting better?”

“What? That’s nonsense, babe. You know that, right? Of course you’ve been getting better. We all have.”

“See I told you it would be stupid. I don't even know why I'm feeling this way.”

“That’s okay. We can just sort that out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll ask sensei for the keys.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna stay here and fight and we’re not gonna leave until you win.”

“That’s really not what I was trying to get from this-”

“What, are you scared?” He knew just how to tug on your strings. 

“Oh fuck no.”

“Then we’re doing this.”

“But what about the date?”

“We can go tomorrow. If you need my help today, I'll help you today.”

“Okay.”

[. . .]

“Alright, ready?”

You only nod your head yes, too focused to even speak.

“Okay. Round one.”

You get a couple punches in, but he’s faster than most of your hits. He wins..

You huff, annoyed. “Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Again.”

“Okay that’s it. Again.”

This time, determination runs through your veins, as tired as you were. Every single moment of feeling weak or inferior or as though you were seen by others as basically the female equivalent of Miguel, and not yourself, not someone capable of being better than him in any way, channeled into this round. 

And you won. This time, you fucking won. 

“Wait that’s three,” you realize.

“Yeah! You won!” Miguel celebrates.

“What?”

“You won, babe!”

“Oh my God. Holy fucking shit. I won?!”

He laughs, coming up to you. “You did.” He places a quick kiss on your lips, but you’re taken over by the adrenaline, pulling him back to you by the collar of his shirt when he went to pull away, tangling him into another kiss, deeper and more passionate this time around. “That was hot,” he comments, as you finally did let him part ways with you to breathe, your bodies still flushed together. 

You feel your cheeks burn at his comment. “I just kicked your ass,” you joke.

He doesn’t even seem fazed by the comment. “Yeah you did,” he grins.

“I did not expect that to unlock some sort of loser kink in you.”

“Hey! That’s not what this is!”

You lift an eyebrow, amused. 

“What, you’re telling me it’s a crime if my insanely hot girlfriend looks insanely hot while kicking my ass?”

“Should I kick your ass more often then?”

“You’re welcome to.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Shut up,” he retorts, finally having enough of the playful bantering, unable to wait a second longer to have your lips on his again. 

Miguel pulls you even closer to him- if that were even possible- by pulling on your waist, not wasting a second more before diving in again, pulling you into a kiss that is much more feral this time around. His actions scream that he wants you, and the high from having reached your goal and beat him in the last round mixed with the lust forming in you from seeing him so affected, so attracted to this, it feels good.

You suppose some people would maybe come into an issue if they found themselves in your place. Men aren’t exactly known for being great at dealing with women being better than them in… well, anything. But Miguel acted genuinely proud of you. Hell, he’d canceled your date night to help you with this because he realized it was important to you. And more than being supportive, he was turned on by your display of power. 

His kisses start trailing out of your lips, to your jaw, to the space below your ear. “You did so well, love. You should get something in turn, huh?”

Your mind was getting a bit foggy. Still, you join in playing his game. “I suppose I should. What are you gonna do?”

“Whatever you want me to,” he breathes out. Oh. That was definitely new. 

“Whatever I want?” He only nods, looking up at you, waiting to be told what to do. Holy shit, that was hot. “That sounds good.”

“Just tell me, please, I’ll make you feel so good, I promise,” he pleads. It was almost pathetic. You decide you’d never get enough of hearing him plead like that. You loved the times in which he was more dominant, but you could definitely get behind this too, no issues whatsoever.

You pretend to think. “I don’t think I will.”

“What? Why not?”

“I want you to guess.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“I- Uh- Ih-” he takes a deep breath. He liked that. You smiled. “I can do that.”

“Good boy,” you try, hoping he didn’t find it weird. 

Apparently, he didn’t. “Fuck. Fuck,” he lets out in almost strangled sounds, wordlessly dropping himself to the floor. He looks up at you with doe eyes, as if pleading for permission. You smile at him, signaling everything was okay. You cage his jaw with both your hands, and he closes his eyes for a moment, letting you play with his hair.

“You look so pretty like this,” you coo, and he feels it down his spine, his eyes fluttering open. 

“Sit.”

“What?”

“Sit,” he repeats himself, but it isn’t demanding. Not this time. 

“I heard you.”

“Sit, please, baby.”

You grin. You didn’t know you’d like this this much. “Of course, baby.” You sit down on the bench, legs closed. He parts them confidently, eyes not leaving yours as he does so slowly, positioning his body between them. With his face mere inches from yours, he looks up at you again. 

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He guesses. His cheeks red, he clearly looks embarrassed. It turned him on and it turned you on too. 

You nod eagerly, signaling he’d guessed right. He smiles and closes the distance between you, pulling you down and attaching his lips to yours. It starts out slow, tender, experimental- testing the waters. He grows eager pretty fast, though, kissing you harder, his hands traveling to either of your thighs and planting themselves there firmly, squeezing in a way that makes you gasp slightly in surprise. 

He pulls away just to tease you about it. That’s the kind of little shit he is.

“What was that for?”

“Nothing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” 

“Not this then?”

He squeezes your thigh again and you try to act unbothered.” He notices though, pleased with himself.

“Oh shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He pulls you into a kiss again with no warning, more feral than before, his hand traveling upwards, inside the legs of the shorts you were wearing. 

“Take it off,” you pant out, a stern tone overtaking your words, and he complies without questioning. You smile, pleased with that. You lift your hips slightly for him and he throws the shorts somewhere on the floor behind you. 

He stares at your underwear for a few moments, as if lost in a trance. You laugh. “Hello? You here?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.”

“Used to what?” You move a hand to caress his face. 

“The fact that I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.”

“Aw, do you like that, baby? Does it turn you on?” You ask, your tone almost mocking him.

He only nods his head yes, looking embarrassed.

“That’s good.” You make a show to slowly take off your shirt, a sudden surge of confidence running through your veins at his words, discarding it along with the shorts behind you.  His eyes widen and he mumbles a few words, the volume of his words so low you couldn’t make it out for the life of you, before he just surges forward again, not aiming for your lips this time, but for your jaw. 

“What was that?” You manage to breathe out as he continues his trail of kisses along your jaw.

“What?”

“If you’re gonna talk you’re gonna let me hear it. Got it?”

“Oh-okay.” He continues to place quick, slight pecks along your jawline, but you know exactly what he’s doing.

“You’re not distracting me from that. I wanna know what you said, baby. Wanna hear you.”

“I said- I said uh-“ he gulps. “It’s dumb.”

“That’s okay.”

“I just said ‘fuck me’.”

You let out a small laugh. “Oh. It was dumb,” you mock him again, and you can see he didn’t expect that.

“What?”

“I though you wanted to fuck me,” you joke.

 He doesn’t take it as a joke. “I do. I do I just meant- it was just-“ oh. This was for real. 

“I know, love. I was just teasing you. Okay? You’re being so good to me.”

His eyes almost sparkle at the praise. 

“You know I think I changed my mind.”

“What?” 

“Maybe I should fuck you.”

“What do you mean?”

You look down on him and smile, a genuine sweet smile. “Get up.”

“But-“

“I thought you said you’d do whatever i wanted you to,” you fake-pout. 

He doesn’t say a word before standing back up. You do the same, keeping your body flushed to his. You slowly turn the two of you around, cornering him until the back of his knees hit the bench and pushing him to sit down on it. 

Standing in front of him, you tilt your head to the side as you take in the view. He looked disheveled as ever. You loved it. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes.

“I- I can take it off.”

“Yeah I think you should.”

“What… what do you want me to take off?”

“Let’s go with the shirt first, baby. How about that?”

He nods furiously. “Yeah I can do that,” he takes his shirt off in a millisecond, throwing it with your clothes on the floor. 

“Oh, you look so pretty,” you coo, stepping closer to him and lifting his chin up to look at you. You make your way around the bench to be behind him, and you can see him gulp in anticipation. Fuck, you were loving this a little too much. You trace his biceps with your finger. “Your arms, I love your arms, you know that? So big and strong,” you exaggerate, and he quirks an eyebrow at the suspicious comment. This doesn’t sound like it was getting to a nice praising place. “And your body, I mean your abs. Your thighs, your thighs are so pretty, baby,” you crouch a bit, still behind him, wrapping yourself around his back so you could snake your arms to his thighs, still only tracing them with a single finger. “So how come you lost to me like a bitch?”

That seems to remind him very well of what was happening.

“It- it was one time.”

“One time you lost to me. But you’ve barely ever won, have you?”

He stays quiet. 

“Come on, baby, talk to me…” you pout, snaking your arms around his torso and kissing his neck.

“N-no.”

“Did you like that you lost to me baby?”

Quiet again.

“Did it turn you on?” You whisper in his ear and you can feel him take in big a breath. .

He couldn’t even look at you .

“Oh, pretty boy, I wanna hear your voice!”

He gulps again. “It- it turned me on,” he confesses. 

“I never knew you were into this sort of thing.”

“Me- me neither.”

“Do you like it when I’m stronger than you? When I tell you what to do?”

You remove yourself from his body entirely, and he whips his head at record speed to look at you, desperate for your touch again. You circle the bench once again, standing in front of him. You grab his jaw and lifts his head up to look at you, your other hand messing with his hair. “So pathetic. I’ve barely done anything to you and you’re this hard.”

You finally sit yourself down on his thighs, legs on either side of his torso, and he immediately and instinctively grabs your ass ‘for support’ as he’s always insisted with a grin. 

“You’re so fucking pathetic you’ll do anything I tell you to. Won’t you?” You pout, tilting your head.

“I’ll- I’ll do anything you want.” 

“That’s a good boy,” you mess with and pet his hair again. You loved it when it was just long enough for his curls to appear. 

He shivers. “Can you say it again?”

“Oh, no can do, baby. You’ll have to keep being a good boy to earn it.”

“I’ll- I’ll be a good boy, okay?”

You nod silently, your arms draped around his neck, and you pull yourself closer to get access to his face. You kiss along his jawline slowly, paying extra attention to the spots just under his ears, which made him shiver like crazy. When you find it sufficient, you move down to his neck, and he lets you, tilting his head to the side. You kiss down his neck, trying your best to not leave any marks. He’s still shivering now, and you know him well enough to know he’s okay, but can’t resist teasing him a bit more. 

“Oh no, baby, you’re trembling! Is everything okay?” You feign ignorance.  He doesn’t reply. “Aw are you too horny to speak to me? Is that the issue?” You mock.

He lifts his hips for some friction, an involuntary tell that he was enjoying this too. “Aw, do you like it when I’m mean to you? Huh?” You lift his chin again. He begrudgingly nods his head yes. You smile and move your hand from his chin to his cheeks, squeezing both off them. “Does my baby like it when I’m in control? When I handle you like this? When I call you names?” 

He tries to reply, but can’t really with you squeezing his face like that. 

“Oh I can’t hear you baby!” You let go of his face. “You’re gonna have to say it again.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I- I like it when you’re mean to me.” 

“I know, baby boy. I can feel it.” With no other warning, you palm him through his shorts. He was impossibly hard. Knowing he was liking this was for sure improving your confidence. The moment your hand meets his crotch his breathing becomes unsteady and he thrusts his hips up again, wanting more. You start kissing along his neck as you keep feeling him up through the shorts, and then he is gone. He lets himself let out delicious moans you would play on repeat if you could, tilting his head back to grant you better access to his neck. He wants more, and you know he does. But you want to hear him say it. 

After a few minutes, he does. 

“Please take it off.”

You press a gentle kiss to his neck, containing a grin. “What are you talking about, babe?”

“My shorts, take them off, please. Please, take them off.”

You press a quick peck on his lips this time. “You beg so pretty, baby. I think I’ll need more of that.”

He looks confused.

“Anything I tell you, right?” 

He nods. 

“Good. Eat me out.”

His eyes widen at the bluntness of it all. And then he realizes what you meant by needing more of his begging: you weren’t going to solve his little problem all that soon. 

“I- yes. Yeah.” 

You pull yourself off of him and he stands up as quickly as humanly possible, grabbing your hand and yanking you to Sensei’s office, rushing to move everything that was on his desk. You catch his drift and pull yourself up to sit on it. You’re so enthralled you don’t even really have the time to rethink what you’re doing and where you are. Miguel gets himself on his knees, and the sight of it from above is breathtaking. 

“Are you sure you wanna be on your knees? They’re gonna hurt.” You ask him, seriously this time.

“I don’t care,” is all he says, dismissing the thought. He pulls you closer to the edge of the desk, and you let yourself lean back on your elbows. He brings a hand up your thigh and takes off your underwear, you lift your hips up to help. 

He brings both his hands to your thighs, slowly pulling them apart, opening your legs. 

He wastes no time before diving in, startling you when, in a second, his head is between your thighs while his hands squeeze them hard and his mouth is suddenly on you. 

He moves his tongue up and down your clit, occasionally circling around it. Now and then he takes a long lick, from your hole to your clit, letting out a moan from time to time as he tastes you, and he picks up on the shaky breaths and loud moans you let out at that (and the way your hands fly to his hair, slightly pulling it.) 

He moves his tongue to your hole, licking and kissing around it before getting it inside.

It makes you almost want to scream out his name. 

“Oh my god. You’re being so good to me, baby. Please don’t stop-” 

You can feel his smile. 

He takes one of his hands off of your thigh and moves it to thumb at your clit as he keeps fucking you with his tongue. The feeling is heavenly, but you can’t help but want more. 

“Your fingers.” Is all you say, and he gets it.

Normally in a situation like this he’d be teasing you in some way, but right now just the thought of upsetting you with that and having you leaving him to finish himself off, or something down that lane, got him quiet. 

He changes what he’s doing, going back to flicking your clit with his tongue, and slowly inserting one of his fingers. You decide you want to tease a bit more. “That all you got?” You challenge him, knowing exactly what you’re doing. He inserts another finger, not taking the care to do it slowly this time, and he pushes them deep inside you, curling them upwards to make sure you felt it.

You let out a moan that’s so pornographic you’re almost embarrassed at it, but you can feel him grin at it, pleased with the reaction. He keeps on, but at a slow pace. In other instances, you didn’t mind some slow, passionate sex. You loved it, even. But right now you wanted to be fucked.

“Harder.”

He pulls his head up to kiss you. You let him. As you make out, your taste still on his tongue, his fingers thrust harder, deeper inside you, making you moan into his mouth, which Miguel seemed to enjoy a little too much.

You can feel yourself brimming an orgasm, and your words become nonsense as he keeps on, your noises becoming so higher-pitched you can barely register you’re the one making them. 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum. Baby, I’m gonna cum. Holy fucking-“

It hits you suddenly, killing your train of thought. Your body trembles as he keeps thrusting his fingers into you, letting you ride out your high. He laps it all up gladly, but you pull him away, your clit oversensitive. 

That doesn’t mean you didn’t want more.

“Everything okay?” 

“Yes, baby. You were such a good boy. But I want you to fuck me now.” 

Miguel was still not used to you being this blunt. And honestly neither were you, for the matter. The words just kept coming out. 

“What- what do you want me to do?” 

You get close to his ear and whisper. “Whatever you want, baby.”

His eyes widen. Whatever he wants. 

 He pulls you off the desk and wordlessly takes you back to the locker room. He leaves you for a second to retrieve a condom from his bag. A prepared man, you’d say.

You manage to take a better look at him and laugh. He furrows his eyebrows together. “What?”

“You look so fucked out right now.”

He rolls his eyes at you and takes off his shorts, kicking them away. He goes to pull his boxers down but you stop him, stroking him in an agonizingly slow pace. He lets out a groan. “Please stop, I’m not gonna last.”

“Oh poor you.” You yank his boxers down. His dick is so hard it must be painful. And all from losing a fight and being called mean names. He walks the two of you backwards until your back is against a wall. He puts the condom on and looks at you for a green light. 

“Go on, baby.” 

He nods, pressing his cock into your hole slowly, letting you adjust to the intrusion.

“Fuck.” You breathe out.

“Was that a good fuck or a bad fuck? Does it hurt?”

“I’m alright. It was a good fuck.”

“Okay.” He hikes up one of your legs to his waist, and you think he’ll be content with that position, but he hikes up your other leg too, pressing your back even more firmly to the wall and supporting your weight by holding firmly onto the back of your thighs. 

“Woah what are you doing?”

He doesn’t bother responding, thrusting into you experimentally. 

“Holy shit.”

That is enough for him. His thrusts become harder, deeper, faster. He hadn’t realized just how desperate he was until now. 

Hitting the spot inside you that made you see stars with every thrust, it doesn’t take long for his breath to quicken and his thrusts to become sloppier. “I’m gonna- can I-“

Was he trying to ask for permission to cum? Holy fucking shit, that was hot.

“Shh, it’s okay baby. You’ve been so good. You can cum.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” he chanted.

 You laugh as his desperation, but it quickly turns into a moan, with Miguel eager to cum and fucking you so hard now you can’t even understand how he could still hold up your weight while doing that. Bless you universe for giving you a strong, strong boyfriend. But all of that didn’t matter now, because he was fucking you so good you could feel the familiar sensation of an orgasm building again.

“Please don’t stop.” That was the first time you begged him for something the whole time.

“I won’t, mi amor.” Oh, that broke you. That one pet name didn’t come out all that frequently, so when it did, you felt giddy on the inside. 

With a few more thrusts, both of you reach your high, and at that point Miguel did have to pull you down, although your legs currently trembled so hard it was a little difficult to stand, but he helps you out after tying the condom up and throwing it away.

“Holy shit,” you finally let out. 

“Holy shit,” he agrees. 

“What were you saying about your loser kink again?”

“Will you shut up about that?” He smiles.

“Was I too mean to you? I might’ve gotten a little carried away."

He looks down to the floor in embarrassment as if he hadn’t just fucked you into oblivion. “I liked it.”

“That’s good baby. So, shower?”

“Yeah you stink,” he makes a disgusted face, plugging his nose and everything just to irritate you. 

You roll your eyes at him. 

A/N: pls be kind to me and cut me some slack i've never posted smut before 😭 i promise ive had sex before 😭 fighting for my life lmao

[hereforuconnwbb]

Where We Go To Breathe

paige x azzi (pazzi)

word count: 7.5k

hey guysssss its been a while🤗 ive been dreading sm and had no motivation to write and have had sm stuff been thrown at me at once and been caught up 🥲 but i was able to just write a quick lil one shot that js randomly came up in my head. idk if i like it or not i js wanted to post smth 😭 but um yeaa hope u guys enjoy !!! 🫶🏽

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The final buzzer echoed in the stadium, a long, soul-crushing sound that seemed to linger in the air long after the game had ended. Paige stood frozen in the middle of the court, watching as the opposing team celebrated, their cheers sharp and mocking in the quiet aftermath of the loss. The game had been brutal—close, competitive, and full of mistakes. But the last few minutes? Those were hers. She had missed the final shot, the one that could have sealed the game, and it was like the entire world was now pressing down on her chest.

She didn’t hear Coach Geno's words as theyheaddressed the team, didn’t register the murmurs from her teammates as they gathered their things. Her mind was replaying that moment over and over—the feel of the ball slipping from her fingertips, the split second of hesitation, and the look in Azzi’s eyes when the buzzer went off. Disappointment. Disappointment that Paige had failed them.

When she finally dragged herself into the locker room, the silence hung heavy. The other players were moving around her, stripping off their jerseys and talking in low voices, but Paige barely noticed. She sank onto the bench, staring at the floor as she untied her shoes, trying to ignore the heat rising in her chest.

Azzi was sitting across from her, her eyes red-rimmed, her hands still tightly gripping her jersey as though she was afraid it would slip away. There was a tension in the air between them that neither of them acknowledged. Azzi’s frustration was visible on her face, but she kept her mouth shut, not wanting to make it worse. The weight of the loss hung between them, and neither of them knew how to bridge the gap that had formed.

“You alright?” Azzi’s voice was quiet, tentative, as though she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer.

Paige didn’t meet her eyes. She didn’t trust herself to speak without snapping. “I’ll be fine,” she muttered, her voice coming out colder than she meant it to.

Azzi didn’t say anything in response. She just watched Paige for a moment, and Paige could feel the weight of her gaze on her skin. It was like Azzi was waiting for something—waiting for Paige to let her in, to show some sign that she wasn’t just shutting everyone out.

But Paige was too caught up in her own mess to care about anything else.

“You sure?” Azzi asked again, this time a little firmer. There was an edge to her voice now, but it was laced with concern. “You’ve been off all week. It’s not just the game.”

Paige finally looked up, locking eyes with Azzi for the first time in what felt like hours. Her jaw clenched, and she forced herself to swallow the bitterness that had crept into her throat. “I’m fine, Azzi,” she said again, her voice more biting than she intended. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to scream or cry or break something—anything to get the weight off her chest. But she didn’t want to let Azzi see her like that.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Yeah, right. You’re always fine, Paige,” she said, a sharpness creeping into her tone now. “Except when you’re not.”

Paige felt something shift in the air between them. It was the first time in a long time that Azzi’s words hit her like a punch to the gut. She wasn’t wrong. She hadn’t been fine for a while. The pressure, the expectations, the constant feeling of being almost enough but never quite there—it was eating her alive. And now, after the game, she was more aware of it than ever.

But she didn’t know how to admit that. She didn’t know how to let anyone in, especially not Azzi, the one person who had always seemed to have everything together. Azzi was strong, unshakable. Paige was terrified of what might happen if she showed her cracks.

Azzi’s eyes softened when she saw the way Paige flinched at her words. She sighed, her shoulders slumping as she stood and walked over to where Paige was sitting. There was a softness in her eyes now, something tender that made Paige’s chest tighten. Azzi stopped in front of her, standing just a little too close, and Paige could feel the heat radiating off her.

“I get it,” Azzi said, her voice quieter now. “The pressure. The weight of it all.” She paused, as if considering her next words carefully. “But you don’t have to carry it alone, you know? Not with me.”

Paige’s heart hammered in her chest. She couldn’t breathe for a moment. Azzi was looking at her like she understood—like she really understood what Paige had been going through. Paige wanted to say something, to tell her everything that had been eating at her, but the words were stuck in her throat. The last thing she wanted was for Azzi to see her like this—weak, vulnerable, unsure.

Instead, she stood abruptly, slinging her bag over her shoulder and turning away before Azzi could say anything else. “I’m fine,” she repeated, more to herself than to anyone else.

Azzi didn’t stop her this time. She didn’t try to convince her to stay, to talk. She just let Paige walk out of the locker room, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the silence.

But even as Paige left, she could feel Azzi’s eyes on her back. She didn’t know if Azzi had any idea how much those few words had cut through her defenses. But Paige also knew one thing for sure: the space between them wasn’t as simple as it seemed. And no matter how hard she tried to push Azzi away, that invisible thread between them wouldn’t break.

Paige’s footsteps echoed down the hallway, the sound growing distant as she moved further away from the locker room. Her heart was still racing, the adrenaline from the game still buzzing in her veins, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the feeling of being overwhelmed. The weight of the loss, the pressure she had been carrying for what felt like an eternity it was suffocating. She needed air. She needed space. And she needed to be alone.

Or maybe not.

She didn’t look back as she reached the parking lot, but she knew she wasn’t alone. She could feel Azzi behind her, the quiet presence that had been with her through so much, even when they didn’t say a word. Azzi never forced her to talk, never pushed her to open up, but there was always that understanding between them. It was strange how easily Azzi knew when to push and when to stay quiet, when to let Paige retreat into herself and when to be there, like she was now.

Paige reached her car and swung the door open, sliding into the driver’s seat. She didn’t look over to see if Azzi was following. She didn’t need to. She knew Azzi was right there, probably standing just a few feet away, watching her.

But Azzi didn’t say anything. She just opened the passenger side door and climbed in without a word, pulling her seatbelt on as she settled into the worn leather. Paige turned the key in the ignition, the engine purring to life, and they both sat in silence for a moment.

The night air felt cool, almost crisp, as the city lights flickered in the distance, casting long shadows across the empty parking lot. The tension was thick between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that felt safe, like it held all the things they didn’t have to say out loud.

Azzi leaned back in her seat, her feet resting on the dashboard. She closed her eyes, just for a moment, letting the stillness of the night wash over her. Paige kept her gaze straight ahead, but every now and then, she would steal a glance at Azzi—just a quick look, nothing obvious—but it was enough to make her chest tighten. There was something about Azzi’s presence, the way she seemed to absorb the weight of everything around her, that made Paige feel a little less lost.

She knew it was crazy—how much she felt like this was the only place she could breathe, the only place where things felt… manageable.

As Paige pulled out of the parking lot, she didn’t have a destination in mind. She never did. She just needed to drive. The hum of the engine filled the car, and for a few minutes, that was all there was. No words. No expectations. Just the sound of the road and the quiet presence of Azzi beside her.

After a while, Azzi reached over and turned on the radio, scrolling through the stations until she found a song that seemed to fit the mood. It was a soft melody “Best Part by Daniel Caesar and H.E.R” a song that had always felt like it was written just for moments like this. The lyrics drifted through the car, low and warm, like a comfort that wrapped around them both.

As the familiar guitar strums filled the car, Paige’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. She didn’t know why, but the song felt different tonight. The words felt like they were speaking to her in a way they hadn’t before.

“It’s this sunrise, and those brown eyes.”

The words settled in Paige’s chest, and she couldn’t help but glance over at Azzi, who was looking out the window, her face soft and unreadable. The lyrics were a quiet echo of something unspoken, something neither of them had dared to say. Paige felt her heart skip a beat, her breath catching in her throat as she saw the way the streetlights danced in Azzi’s eyes, the way the song seemed to paint her in a light that was too perfect, too fragile.

The silence between them was thick, but it wasn’t awkward. It was the kind of silence that made Paige’s heart race because she knew, they both knew, there was something more here. Something they didn’t have to say. Not yet. But it was there. In the way the lyrics wrapped around the moment. In the way Azzi’s presence filled the space beside her.

“You’re the one that I desire.”

Paige’s eyes flicked to Azzi once more, just as she saw the faintest hint of a smile tug at the corner of her lips. Azzi didn’t say anything, didn’t acknowledge the way the song seemed to land between them. But Paige knew. She knew that Azzi felt it too. The pull. The tension. The things they hadn’t said, but that the universe seemed to whisper between them anyway.

For a moment, Paige let the song play on, letting the lyrics sink into the quiet spaces between them. She didn’t reach for the volume dial. She didn’t turn it off. She just drove. And Azzi just sat there, the soft hum of the engine the only sound in the car as the world outside blurred past.

The song ended, but neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. The quiet felt comforting, like a safe haven in the middle of all the chaos. And even though there was so much left unsaid, Paige knew, deep down, that Azzi was there. She was always there. And somehow, in the quiet of the night, that was enough.

The car cruised down empty streets, the glow of streetlights casting long, warm shadows across the pavement. Paige’s hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, but the tension in her chest had eased, just a little. The weight of the game, of the loss, still lingered, but it didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore. With Azzi beside her, without the expectations and noise of everything else, the world felt smaller. More manageable. And for the first time in days, Paige let herself breathe really breathe without holding it in.

Azzi shifted in her seat, stretching her legs out in front of her and letting out a quiet sigh. She didn’t need to say anything. Paige knew the feeling the relief, the release. The need to escape, even for just a little while. They didn’t need to talk about the game, or the pressure, or what had happened. It was like the silence between them was enough to understand.

Finally, it was Paige who broke the stillness.

“I think we should do this more often,” she said, her voice quieter than usual, almost as if she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to say it aloud.

Azzi turned her head slightly to look at her, one eyebrow raised, but there was a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Do what?”

Paige glanced over at her, then back to the road, her fingers lightly tapping the steering wheel in rhythm with the soft hum of the engine. “This. Drive after the games. No destination. Just… wind down, you know?”

Azzi nodded slowly, considering the idea. Her eyes drifted back to the window, but Paige could see her thoughts working. Azzi had always been the one to keep her cool, to stay composed, but Paige knew she was more than capable of needing this too—the quiet, the escape.

“I mean, it’s better than sitting around, stewing in it all,” Paige added, her voice a little softer. “Sometimes I feel like if I don’t get away, I’ll just… explode. And you’re the only one who gets it.”

Azzi’s smile widened, a little more genuine now. “Yeah, I get that.” She let the words hang for a moment before adding, “I’d be down for it. If it means less of us pacing around the gym like lunatics after a game.”

Paige laughed softly at that, the sound more relaxed now, as if a weight had lifted off her shoulders. It was something small—just a suggestion, a fleeting thought—but it felt like a tiny step forward. It wasn’t a huge confession or a grand gesture. It was just them, taking a moment to understand each other. To make space for the quiet and the chaos, together.

As they drove, the world outside was still and peaceful, a stark contrast to the buzz of the gym earlier. The sound of their breathing, the rhythmic hum of the tires against the asphalt—this was the one place where neither of them felt like they had to perform, to be perfect. They could just exist. Together.

“I think it’d be good for us,” Paige continued, the words rolling off her tongue before she could second-guess them. “A routine. A way to wind down after all the… pressure.”

Azzi didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she leaned back in her seat, her eyes half-lidded, her fingers tapping lightly on the window. She was quiet for a moment, processing the idea. Paige could almost feel the wheels turning in her head—Azzi wasn’t one to let her guard down easily, but when she did, it was always in these small moments. The ones that didn’t require grand gestures. The ones that meant more because they were unsaid.

“Alright,” Azzi finally said, her voice low but steady. “Let’s make it a thing. Post-game drives. I could use the break. And it’s… nice, I guess, not having to talk about everything all the time.” She paused, her lips curving into a small, secretive smile. “And it gives me an excuse to keep hanging out with you, so… yeah. I’m in.”

Paige couldn’t help but smile back, though it was brief, the corners of her lips barely curling upward. The truth was, this moment felt like something rare—a sliver of calm in a storm that never seemed to end. She felt lighter now, as though sharing the weight of the loss, the pressure, the game—everything—with Azzi made it just a little more bearable.

They fell into another comfortable silence, the only sound in the car the soft thrum of the engine and the distant sound of a car passing by. The city lights flickered by, casting fleeting glances of brightness in the otherwise quiet night.

—---------------------

The drives had become something they both needed, a routine that had carved its place into their lives with surprising ease. It wasn’t always about the games anymore and it didn’t matter about the result either being a win or a loss. It wasn’t even about escaping the pressure. Sometimes it was just the comfort of the familiar, those late-night drives that felt like they belonged to just the two of them. The world outside, dark and silent, was theirs to share without the noise of expectations or the rush of the clock.

Azzi had agreed to it, at first, almost with a kind of nonchalance, but over time, it became clear to both of them that these drives had become something deeper than just a post-game ritual. They didn’t need to speak about it, it was unspoken in the way their silences never felt awkward at all. They had become used to each other’s presence in this confined space. No music, just the sound of the engine and the hum of the tires against the pavement. The quiet was never empty. It was full. Full of everything they hadn’t said and maybe never would.

—---------------------

One night, the drive stretched longer than usual, past familiar streets and into the deeper corners of the area. Azzi had fallen asleep in the passenger seat, her head tilted to the side, her hair falling across her face in soft waves. Paige couldn’t bring herself to wake her, not even when they passed the familiar exit she would usually take to head back to the dorms. So, she kept driving. She let the car glide through the empty streets for another hour, just so she didn’t have to break the silence. She didn’t mind the stillness, the way Azzi’s quiet breathing filled the space beside her. It was peaceful. It was familiar.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a soft glow on the empty roads. Paige allowed herself to feel the quiet settle deep into her bones. She didn’t have a destination in mind. She didn’t need one. Not right now. All that mattered was the presence of Azzi beside her, the steady rhythm of her breathing, and the way the world outside seemed to slow down as the car glided through it.

Eventually, Paige pulled into a quiet spot. She turned off the engine, but her eyes lingered on Azzi, still asleep. The soft rise and fall of her chest was hypnotic. Paige didn’t want to disturb the calm, so she simply stayed there, letting her mind wander as the car sat in stillness. The night had its own rhythm. It wasn’t a need to speak, just an understanding.

When Azzi stirred, her eyes fluttering open slowly, she blinked up at the dashboard, clearly disoriented, before looking at Paige with a soft, sleepy smile. “Did I fall asleep?”

Paige chuckled softly, her eyes softening. “Well yeah, I didn’t want to wake you. We’ve still got a bit of time before we have to go back.”

Azzi’s gaze softened, and she stretched out her legs, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. She glanced over at Paige, a smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks. I needed this. The game… and then this.” Her words were gentle, almost as if the night had shifted something inside her too.

Paige’s heart skipped at the sincerity in Azzi’s voice. She didn’t respond immediately, instead focusing on the road ahead as the night stretched on.

—---------------------

Another night came not long after. This time, it was Paige who felt the weight of the day pressing down harder. The post-game adrenaline had worn off, and with it came the quiet ache of everything she couldn’t fix. Azzi, as always, was by her side, her presence a steadying force in the chaos of Paige’s thoughts.

The drive felt different that night, more intimate somehow. Azzi was quieter than usual, her head resting lightly against the window, gazing out at the passing streetlights. Paige could feel the pull of something she didn’t quite understand, something familiar, like a thread tugging at the core of her. The words that had been floating around in her mind for weeks now slipped out without her thinking.

“I think I only feel normal when you’re around,” Paige said softly, the words barely above a whisper, but they felt heavy in the car. The weight of them hung in the space between them, and Paige immediately regretted saying anything. Her heart beat faster in the quiet that followed.

Azzi didn’t respond immediately. There was a long pause, the tension thick in the air, and Paige wondered if she’d gone too far. But then, out of nowhere, Azzi reached over and took Paige’s hand, her fingers brushing lightly against the back of Paige’s hand. The contact sent a shiver through Paige’s skin, as if Azzi’s touch was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Azzi’s hand slid into Paige’s, their fingers intertwining with a natural ease that felt almost… right. It was so simple, so gentle, yet in that moment, it felt like everything. Like the unspoken connection between them had finally been acknowledged without needing to be said.

Paige glanced down at their hands, the warmth of Azzi’s fingers wrapping around hers, and the way their fingers moved together, like a dance of their own. They shifted the intertwined hands to Azzi’s lap, both of them adjusting until the touch felt more comfortable. Azzi’s thumb brushed slowly over Paige’s knuckles, caressing her hand in a way that made Paige’s chest tighten with something unidentifiable.

For the rest of the ride, they didn’t say much. No words were needed. Their hands, now resting softly in Azzi’s lap, were all that mattered. The way Azzi’s thumb continued its soft, soothing motion, the way Paige could feel the weight of her heart beating in sync with the rhythm of their fingers moving together. In that small, quiet moment, it felt like everything had fallen into place. The night, the drive, the silence—they didn’t need to fill it with words. It felt… right.

And in the midst of it all, as the car rolled down the empty roads, Paige realized that maybe, just maybe, this was what she had been searching for. Not in the games. Not in the hustle or the pressure. But in this. In the quiet comfort of Azzi’s presence beside her, in the soft tension of their intertwined hands. No confessions. No expectations. Just the weight of shared moments, of small things that meant everything.

The car continued its quiet journey down the road, their hands still connected, and neither of them needing to speak the words that hovered in the air between them. They both knew.

And that was enough.

—---------------------

This next game had been brutal. Azzi had tried—tried so hard to keep her head in the game, but things hadn’t gone the way she wanted. Her shots didn’t fall, her passes felt off, and the frustration from the team echoed in the locker room like an unspoken weight. The locker room was quiet as everyone slowly undressed, packing away the sweat-drenched jerseys and lacing up their sneakers, but the silence was different tonight. It wasn’t just the usual exhaustion after a tough game. It was heavier. There was tension in the air, a pressure that Azzi couldn’t escape.

She couldn’t breathe here.

Azzi stood by her locker, head down, her fingers gripping the edges of her gym bag so tightly her knuckles turned white. The others were still talking, trying to shake off the loss, but it was as if she couldn’t hear them. Every word felt muffled, every movement a reminder of the tightness in her chest that wouldn’t go away.

She had to get out.

Without a word, she shoved her things into the bag and yanked her jacket on. Her eyes flickered across the room, briefly meeting Paige’s, but Azzi couldn’t hold the gaze. Instead, she turned sharply, storming out of the locker room with nothing but the sound of her footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. She didn’t look back. She couldn’t.

The cool air outside hit her like a wave, but it didn’t help to clear the fog in her mind. Azzi’s breath came out in short bursts, her heart hammering in her chest. She didn’t know where she was going, didn’t care. She just needed to move, to escape the noise inside her own head.

Paige, however, had other plans.

She’d seen Azzi’s abrupt exit, and she had a feeling. A familiar feeling that had become all too common between them lately. When Azzi was like this, silent and distant, running away from the overwhelming pressure, it was Paige who followed. It had always been Paige, whether it was after a tough game or an emotionally draining practice. Paige’s footsteps were steady as she walked behind Azzi, but she didn’t rush. She knew Azzi needed the space, but she also knew that eventually, she’d need to pull her back.

By the time Azzi reached the car, Paige was close enough to hear the shallow breaths Azzi was trying to steady. Azzi had already reached for the door handle, and Paige stopped a few steps away, letting her take the lead as she always did. The space between them felt… heavier tonight.

Azzi didn’t say anything, but Paige could see it in her posture, the tightness in her shoulders, the way her jaw clenched as she stared down at the car door. Paige didn’t press. She waited. And then Azzi broke the silence.

“I need to drive tonight.”

Paige didn’t respond immediately. She simply held out the keys, a silent offer. She knew Azzi needed to feel in control, needed to have the steering wheel in her hands, especially after a game where everything felt like it slipped away from her.

Azzi took the keys without a word, her fingers brushing against Paige’s in the briefest of moments. It was almost imperceptible, but it didn’t go unnoticed by either of them. There was something in that touch—something more than just the passing of keys—but neither of them spoke about it.

Azzi slid into the driver’s seat, slamming the door with more force than necessary. Paige got into the passenger side, her eyes lingering on Azzi for a moment before she buckled her seatbelt. The car roared to life, and they pulled out of the parking lot in a smooth motion.

Neither of them spoke at first. There was nothing to say. The silence was thick and heavy, but Paige could feel it—the tension rolling off Azzi in waves, the way she gripped the wheel so tightly that her knuckles went white.

And then Azzi’s foot pressed down harder on the accelerator.

The engine roared as they sped through the streets, the city lights streaking past in a blur. Paige glanced at Azzi, her profile illuminated by the passing lights, and she could see it, feel it, in the way Azzi’s jaw was clenched and her eyes were set forward, focused on the road ahead like it was the only thing that mattered.

They weren’t speaking, but the air between them was charged with something that neither could ignore. It wasn’t just the anger. It was something deeper, something unspoken, like a storm that had been brewing for weeks, and now, it was starting to pour.

Azzi’s driving became faster, more erratic, and Paige knew that she was trying to outrun something inside her, something that couldn’t be shaken off with speed or distance. The car tore down dark, empty roads, the engine’s hum growing louder as they pushed farther into the night.

Eventually, Azzi pulled into a quiet, deserted parking lot, the bright neon lights of the empty diner casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. She threw the car into park with a harsh jolt, and they both sat in silence for a few moments.

The tension in the air was suffocating. Neither of them spoke, but the weight of everything between them was palpable. Azzi’s hands gripped the steering wheel as if she were holding on to something that might slip away at any moment.

Azzi’s breath shuddered as she let go of the wheel and pushed the door open. She stepped out of the car, her movements sharp, angry, but at the same time, there was something vulnerable in the way she moved, like she was trying to break free from something she couldn’t control.

Paige followed her without a word, walking around the car to meet her at the front. They didn’t need to talk; the night was enough of a conversation in itself. Azzi sat down on the hood of the car, her back straight, her gaze fixed on the dark horizon.

Paige stood beside her, leaning against the car for a moment, letting the stillness of the night settle between them. The sound of the wind in the trees, the rustling of the leaves—it was a peaceful kind of quiet, the kind that felt comforting, even when everything inside of Azzi was far from calm.

After a few moments, Azzi’s voice broke the silence, barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know how to be perfect anymore, Paige.”

The words hit like a wave, crashing over Paige’s chest. It wasn’t just the admission. It was the rawness behind it—the vulnerability that Azzi had never shown. Paige felt her heart tighten at the pain in Azzi’s voice.

“I’m always expected to be perfect,” Azzi continued, her voice cracking slightly. “Every game, every practice. And I just… I don’t know how much longer I can do it.”

Paige moved closer, sitting next to Azzi on the hood of the car. She didn’t try to fix it. She didn’t need to. Instead, she simply put her arm around Azzi, pulling her into the embrace without saying a word.

Azzi melted into her, her body shaking slightly as the weight of everything she’d been holding inside finally came spilling out. She buried her face in Paige’s shoulder, her breath ragged as she finally allowed herself to feel the exhaustion, the frustration, the pressure that had been mounting for so long.

Paige held her tighter, her hand stroking the back of Azzi’s head, her fingers running through her hair in slow, soothing motions. She didn’t need to say anything—Azzi didn’t need words. The comfort, the understanding, the warmth of her presence—those were the things that Azzi needed now.

As Azzi’s breathing slowly steadied, Paige pulled back just enough to look at her, her hand gently resting on Azzi’s cheek. There was no rush to fix anything. No rush to make it better. Just the quiet assurance that she wasn’t alone.

Azzi’s eyes closed, and for the first time that night, there was a softness in her expression—something that had been buried under layers of tension and pressure for so long. She leaned into Paige’s touch, feeling the calm of her presence wash over her.

And for the first time in a long while, Azzi allowed herself to breathe.

Paige didn’t have all the answers. She didn’t need them. All she needed was to be here—with Azzi. And that, somehow, felt like enough.

Azzi let out a deep, shaky breath, her body unwinding as Paige’s touch soothed her. The cool night air wrapped around them, and the hum of the empty world seemed to settle into a quiet calm. Azzi’s chest rose and fell slowly, and Paige could feel the tension gradually leave her body as the minutes ticked by. It was a small moment, but it was enough. They didn’t need grand gestures or eloquent speeches. They just needed to be here—together.

For a long while, Azzi didn’t say anything. She simply let Paige hold her, the quiet of the night surrounding them like a blanket. Azzi had been holding so much in for so long—the weight of her own expectations, the pressure to be the best, to always be perfect. It was a constant battle, one that no one could see, one that she couldn’t escape, no matter how hard she tried.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” Azzi whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion. She didn’t look up at Paige, but the words were heavy, each one like a brick in the air between them.

Paige didn’t respond right away. She just kept her arm around Azzi, her hand resting lightly on her back, her thumb tracing slow circles on the fabric of her hoodie. She had no solution, no quick fix. She wasn’t going to tell Azzi to just let it go or try to make it better. She didn’t have that power, and Azzi didn’t need her to pretend that everything could be fixed with a few words.

Instead, Paige simply leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the top of Azzi’s head, the act of comfort more than words could ever be. Azzi didn’t pull away. If anything, she leaned into it, her breath evening out, her grip on Paige’s jacket tightening slightly as if she were afraid to let go.

“I’m so tired, Paige,” Azzi said, her voice barely audible now. “Tired of pretending I’ve got it all together. Tired of feeling like I’m always failing, no matter how hard I try.”

“I know,” Paige murmured, her voice steady and soft. “I see you, Azzi. And you’re not failing. You’re doing your best. And that’s more than enough.”

Azzi sniffed, a small, almost embarrassed sound escaping her as she wiped her eyes quickly, though she didn’t pull away from Paige. Paige’s hand continued to stroke her back, the steady rhythm offering a sense of safety, as if everything would be okay as long as she kept holding on.

Azzi let herself relax further into Paige, the weight of the game, the weight of the expectations, all beginning to melt away in the quiet of the night. It wasn’t a solution. There was no magic fix for all the pressure Azzi had been under, but in this moment, with Paige’s warmth surrounding her, it was enough to feel understood. To feel cared for.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” Paige added softly, her voice firm but gentle. “No one expects that from you. Not me, not anyone else. You just… you don’t have to carry it all alone.”

Azzi closed her eyes and nodded, feeling the truth of Paige’s words settle deep within her. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed to hear that—to hear someone say that it was okay to fall short, to not have everything figured out. Paige made it seem so simple, yet it was something Azzi had struggled to believe for so long.

No more words were needed. They sat there, side by side, on the hood of the car, with nothing but the sound of their breathing and the quiet hum of the world around them. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Azzi let herself be vulnerable, without fear of judgment, without fear of disappointing anyone. She allowed herself to simply be, to feel the weight of everything she had carried for so long.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Azzi whispered finally, her voice soft and full of quiet gratitude. She turned her head slightly to glance at Paige, her eyes still a little puffy from the tears that had finally spilled over.

Paige smiled faintly, her thumb brushing across Azzi’s knuckles as she reached for her hand, threading their fingers together. “You’ll never have to find out. I’m not going anywhere.”

Azzi felt a lump form in her throat at the sincerity in Paige’s voice. She wasn’t going anywhere. And for once, Azzi believed her.

“I don’t know how to stop trying to be perfect,” Azzi said, her voice quieter now, almost like a confession. “It’s all I’ve known.”

Paige turned her body slightly to face Azzi more fully, her eyes soft, understanding. “You don’t have to stop trying, Azzi. Just… let go of the pressure to be perfect. Just be you. That’s enough. It’s always been enough.”

Azzi let out a deep breath, feeling as though she were letting go of something she didn’t even realize she’d been holding onto so tightly. The pressure that had been mounting for months, for years, slowly started to lift, even if just for tonight. For this moment, she didn’t need to be the perfect player, the perfect teammate, the perfect person.

She could just be Azzi. And that was enough.

Paige squeezed her hand gently, and Azzi smiled weakly, her lips trembling a little. It wasn’t an easy smile, but it was real. And it was the first smile she’d had in a while that felt like it might actually stick.

“I’m still angry,” Azzi admitted, her voice soft again, a hint of vulnerability in it.

Paige nodded, not surprised by the admission. “That’s okay. You don’t have to be okay all the time. You don’t have to have it all figured out.”

Azzi leaned into Paige again, resting her head on her shoulder, feeling the cool night air brush against her skin, the warmth of Paige’s presence grounding her in a way nothing else ever could.

The night stretched on, each moment heavy with the weight of everything Azzi had been carrying for so long. The quiet between them was different now, not uncomfortable but filled with something more—a shared understanding, a deep connection that neither of them had voiced aloud, but both of them could feel. Azzi’s head rested lightly against Paige’s shoulder, her hand still intertwined with Paige’s, their fingers loosely laced together. The world around them had faded into a soft blur—the parking lot, the distant hum of cars passing on the highway, all of it had fallen away until there was only the two of them.

The air between them felt charged, but not with tension. It wasn’t the kind of tension that had built up in moments of frustration, or anger, or confusion. It was the kind of charge that came when two people, who had seen each other at their worst and still stayed, could just… exist. And it felt like that was all they needed right now. To simply be.

Azzi shifted slightly, adjusting her position, and Paige felt her body lean just a little closer, the warmth of Azzi’s presence settling against her side, like it belonged there. Paige felt the familiar flutter in her chest—something that had been growing ever since they’d started this little routine, ever since they’d begun spending these late-night drives together. She couldn’t name it, not exactly, but she knew it was more than just friendship. It had always been more.

“I’m sorry,” Azzi murmured suddenly, breaking the silence, though her voice was soft, almost shy.

Paige tilted her head slightly, her cheek brushing against Azzi’s hair. “For what?”

Azzi didn’t answer immediately. She shifted again, her hand moving slowly over the hood of the car, her fingertips grazing the cool metal. Paige could feel the weight of the silence, but this time it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was like Azzi was working through something, processing in her own quiet way, and Paige had no intention of rushing her.

“I don’t know how to ask for help,” Azzi said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige’s heart tightened, a swell of empathy washing over her. She knew exactly what that felt like—how hard it could be to admit you weren’t okay, that you needed someone. How many times had she carried the weight of everything by herself, never wanting to ask for help, thinking she had to be the strong one for everyone else? She hadn’t realized until now just how much they had in common, how much they were both holding back, silently bearing burdens they never shared.

“You don’t have to ask,” Paige said softly, turning just enough to face Azzi more fully. “You just have to let me be here. That’s all.”

Azzi looked up then, her eyes meeting Paige’s, and there was something there—a softness in her gaze that made Paige’s breath catch in her chest. It wasn’t a look that spoke of words left unsaid or confusion anymore. It was the look of someone who was finally allowing themselves to be vulnerable, to lean on someone else for once.

“I think I’ve spent so much time pretending I’m okay that I forgot what it feels like to just… let go,” Azzi said, her voice quiet, but there was a vulnerability in it now, one that Paige hadn’t heard before. “I just… I don’t want to disappoint anyone. I don’t want to let you down.”

Paige’s thumb moved softly over Azzi’s hand, caressing the back of her knuckles in slow, soothing strokes. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to offer—words of comfort, of reassurance—but the truth was, sometimes, words weren’t enough. Sometimes, the only thing you could offer was presence. The only thing that mattered was that you didn’t have to do it alone.

“You’re not disappointing anyone, Az,” Paige said gently, her voice steady, grounded. “Not me. Not anyone.”

Azzi’s eyes closed for a moment, and for the briefest of seconds, Paige caught her breath, feeling the shift in the air between them. It was small, but it was there—a quiet energy building, something that had been left unspoken between them for a long time, something neither of them had fully acknowledged.

Paige’s thumb brushed lightly over Azzi’s lip as the soft breeze ruffled their hair. She hadn’t meant to, hadn’t even noticed the movement until Azzi’s lips parted just slightly beneath her touch. The soft contact sent a shockwave of heat through Paige, a wave of warmth flooding her chest, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. Azzi’s eyes opened again, and Paige saw the same thing she felt reflected in her gaze—a flicker of uncertainty, mixed with something deeper, something that neither of them could ignore any longer.

Without thinking, Paige shifted closer, her face turning toward Azzi’s as the space between them began to close, her breath mingling with Azzi’s in the cool night air. She didn’t know why she was doing this, or what it meant, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. The tension, the unspoken words, everything that had built up between them—it was all leading to this moment, and neither of them could stop it.

Azzi’s gaze fluttered down to Paige’s lips, then back to her eyes, her breath shaky, uncertain. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned forward slightly, as if waiting for Paige to make the move. And Paige did. Slowly, almost reverently, she brushed her lips against Azzi’s, a soft, tentative kiss—just the lightest of touches, the barest graze.

It was soft. It was gentle. It wasn’t rushed, nor was it full of the heat that they’d both probably imagined. But it was something else—something full of promise, full of the quiet reassurance that, no matter what had happened, they would always be there for each other.

When they pulled back, the air was thick with the unspoken, the things neither of them said, but both of them understood. Paige’s thumb moved, instinctively, caressing the soft curve of Azzi’s bottom lip, a tender touch that sent a shiver down Azzi’s spine. Her eyes flickered closed for a moment as she breathed deeply, trying to gather herself, trying to understand what just happened, what it meant.

Azzi finally opened her eyes, and Paige found her gaze, her own breath coming a little faster now, the weight of everything still there, but somehow lighter.

“I’ve never felt like this before,” Azzi whispered, her voice barely audible. “With anyone. I don’t know what this is, but… it feels right.”

Paige’s heart skipped a beat. She felt the same way, even though she didn’t know what this was, either. But whatever it was, it was real. And for once, it didn’t matter if they had all the answers. What mattered was that they were here, together.

“I don’t have all the answers, Azzi,” Paige said softly, her voice full of quiet conviction. “But I know that I want to be here. With you. Right now. And whatever happens next, we’ll figure it out together.”

Azzi smiled softly, the weight of everything still lingering between them, but now, it felt different. It felt like they were both on the same page, understanding one another in a way they hadn’t before. She leaned forward again, her lips brushing Paige’s in a second, softer kiss. It was brief, but it held more than just affection—it held the quiet promise of something more.

And as they sat together on the hood of the car, their fingers still intertwined, the night stretched on around them, but it felt like the world had stopped just for a moment—just long enough for them to finally find what they had been searching for all along.

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

[hysteria-things]

KISS THE GIRL

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: because of his biggest fear, chris has some trouble getting the courage to kiss the girl he’s been connecting with for months.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: FLUFF, swearing

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 662

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: okay i know i said a matt fluff but i finished watching the little mermaid an hour ago and thought about this…

commitment is chris’ worst nightmare. he’d rather step on hot coals than do anything with a girl, especially being a boyfriend for crying out loud. he’s getting ahead of himself here, but these are the exact thoughts pacing through his mind at this very moment. why is he acting like this? it’s all because of you.

the two of you met through a mutual friend and hit it off quickly, gaining a relationship to the point where you guys have been talking for months. old chris would say run for the hills and never turn back, but there’s something about you. it’s like you reeled him in without trying.

currently, you’re walking next to each other — not hand in hand but insanely close — on a path that separates the beach from the sidewalk. chris paid for dinner, although you insisted on splitting the check.

this isn’t the first time you guys are hanging out, but this time around feels different. he so badly wants to kiss you; feel his lips in sync with yours. he’d be lying if he said he’d never thought about it. on the other hand, he’s terrified to do so. what if he’s been getting mixed signals this whole time? what if you only see him as a brother?

“are you alright?” your voice startles him as he shakes his head to get out of his trance. “you seem to be thinking about something.”

“i’m fine.” he smiles. “want to walk on the pier? we can get a good view of the sunset from there.”

you nod as he leads the way, the sun making the ripples of the water an orangey-pink haze. you lean your back against the railing, your elbows propped on the metal beside you.

inhaling sharply, he then exhales. he’s surprisingly much calmer now, the moment beautiful along with the girl of his dreams. maybe he can kiss you after all—

PING.

groaning, chris reaches his hand into his pocket where the noise is coming from.

DA BOYZ

nick

did you smooch yet?

no

matt

what are you waiting for?

idk

nick

chris you can’t hear me but i just sighed really loudly i thought you’d like to know

we’re watching you by the way

you’re what

matt

[attachment: 1 image]

hi

bro

nick

KISS HER ALREADY

COME ON

matt

i’ll do it

fuck off matt

nick

i wish i brought my binoculars i can’t really see from here

matt

👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

this is going to be me and y/n in like five minutes

stop that

matt

i’m getting out of the car as we speak

go home

nick

not until you 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋🥰

sighing, this was his reminder to turn his ringer off. he placed the phone back in its place and sighs. “sorry about that.” he mumbles, moving closer to you to place his hands where your elbows are, leaning down to rest his head on your shoulder. you snake your arms around his neck and play with his hair. “are you sure you’re okay? you’re tense.”

“i want to lay here for a bit, that’s all.”

it’s now quiet, except for the waves hitting the shore. you both are comfortable, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. feeling a peck on your shoulder, it travels to your collarbone… and then to your neck… and then… finally!

it’s hard to tell who pulled in who first, being that you pulled him in by the neck while chris pulled you in by the waist. god, your lips feel good. your mouths dance at a rhythm better than he’s ever imagined. unfortunately, it has to come to an end.

he pulls away to catch a breath, your cheeks and the tip of your ears flushed pink like crazy. alas, you’re grinning like a fool before you say a sentence chris wasn’t expecting at all. “you can tell them to stop staring at us now.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @moncherriis @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @tworosesblackthorn @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hearrtsturns @stars4matt @freshsturns @etershine @tpvmz @sukiipjs @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @thesturniolos @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @bernardsbendystraws @hoes4matthew @fratbrochrisgf

[sugarhog05]

I MADE A CREATURE

You nervously fiddled with the cuffs of your jacket as the manager led you to a separate tent from the main circus. You had applied to be an animal handler, though they weren’t very forthcoming with what animal it was. That was fine for you though, you’d had many years of experience working with a variety of animals. You were never fond of circuses keeping animals, but from what you’d heard fazbear’s circus didn’t keep many. Those they did have were apparently very well taken care of, due to fazbears hiring individual caretakers for each one. Most were also already domesticated animals as well, which was a part of why you’d even considered taking the job.

Still, it was pretty strange that they hadn’t listed specifically what you were going to be handling. You put it out of your mind though when you finally reached a small starry themed tent. Your manager abruptly turns on their heel to face you, causing you to jump.

“Alright! We’re here.” You both stare at each other. “…Are we not going inside?” You ask after a solid minute of silence.

“Right! Yes, of course we are! I uh, just need to warn you about something before we go inside though.” You groan internally. Gesturing for her to continue, she begins to explain.

“So the… animal… inside is um- pretty exotic? A-and intelligent, so just know it will try to mess with you. It’s also picked up on human behaviors over time so it’ll act like a person. B-but it’s not! Of course, it’s not…” they trail off and alarm bells are immediately going off in your head. ‘Is there a fucking chimp in there, because I swear to god-‘

“Well…! I suppose we should just go inside. Here, I’ll let you go in first.” You really did not wanna go in first but you assumed they probably had whatever was inside locked up. You hoped.

Whatever was inside was definitely not a chimpanzee. You… you didn’t know what it was. It was large, larger than you even. Its fur was split down the middle, with one side being a bright white and the other a navy blue. It looked so… unnatural. And then there were its eyes, they were completely black except for little pinpricks of a vibrant pink. They had locked in on you as soon as you’d stepped inside, and stuck to you as you stepped further in.

You were, to put it simply, in awe of whatever creature this was. You stare at each other through the bars of its cage as your manager walks inside.

“So, this is Moon!-“

“What is it?” You cut her off, and she nervously chuckles. “See uh, we aren’t really… sure? The owner found it at some point and has been trying to train it for years now. It’s been to uh, little success.” After she says that, the creature grins at you. You startle at this and it begins to giggle.

“Ah, yeah it’ll do that… it likes to play pranks and has learned what’ll give it a… reaction.” You look to her before looking back at it, and then smile. “That’s… that’s actually pretty cute.” Your manager sighs in what you assume is relief at your reaction to Moon.

“Ha, well… I’m glad you think so. The last handler hated it and had a pretty rough go of it.” You nod while keeping your eyes on ‘Moon’. It’s quiet now, and the grin it had is gone. It’s resorted to just staring at you curiously.

Your manager suddenly claps making you and Moon jump, “Well! Now that you’ve been introduced, we can go get everything finalized in my office!” You glance at her and nod, so she begins to walk out of the tent. You give Moon a final glance and then wave bye at him with a smile. His eyes go from slits to thin ovals, and he, to your surprise, waves back. You don’t get to stay and process what just happened as your manager all but drags you outside. You suppose you’ll get to interact with it more when you’re finished with your paperwork.

UM- UM- so he’s like a circus ‘animal’ that they assume is just a super smart but non-sentient being. So Y/N would be his like, handler/caretaker and overtime Y/N would inevitably realize that no, he’s not just an animal, and would have to either help him escape or… idk get rights or something lol

I’m thinking of calling the AU My Circus My Monkeys or something like that :)

[blissfulflw]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝑈𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑆𝑝𝑒𝑙𝑙

Pairing- Kim Minjeong (Winter) x fem reader

Genre- Fluff, slow burn, enemies to lovers

Word count- 10813

A/N: tumblr is being a bitch rn so I have to split the fic into two parts since apparently it’s too ‘long’ so here.

Part 2

It started with a text.

You had just finished up a long day at the library, your brain fried from the hours spent buried in textbooks, when your phone buzzed on the desk. Frowning at the unfamiliar number, you unlocked it.

*Hey loser, I bet you’re still doing your stupid homework. I’m about to go to a party, but don’t worry, I’ll think of you while I’m having fun. ;) *– Minjeong, your new best friend

You blinked at the message. First of all, who even was Minjeong? You didn’t know anyone by that name. Second, loser? You glanced over at your untouched dinner—instant noodles—and sighed. Well, she wasn’t wrong.

You stared at the phone, debating what to do. Was this some kind of prank? No way this was real. Still, your fingers typed out a careful response.

Uh, sorry, I think you have the wrong number. I’m not sure who you meant to text, but I’m not your best friend.

The response came quickly, as if she’d been waiting for you to reply.

Oops. Sorry, loser. I’ll try again next time. Have fun with your noodles. ;)

Your eyebrow twitched at the audacity. You weren’t sure if you should be offended or impressed by how casually rude this person was.

The next day at class, your phone buzzed again, and you groaned inwardly before checking it.

How’s your loser day going, huh? Are you hiding under the desk to avoid attention again?

You stared at the message, unsure of how to react. Your cheeks flushed, and you quickly typed back.

This isn’t funny. Stop texting me.

Aww, don’t be such a buzzkill. I’m bored, so I’m just sending you some entertainment. Maybe you should loosen up a little. Have you ever tried going to a party?

You frowned. You were way too shy for parties. Definitely not your scene. But this person didn’t seem to care about your feelings.

I don’t go to parties, and I’m not interested in whatever this is. Please stop texting me.

There was a pause before the next message came through.

Oh, I see. Another shy nerd. Alright, well, don’t have too much fun being all lonely and miserable. I’ll catch you later, loser.

You resisted the urge to throw your phone out the window. Why was this person so insufferable? You could already picture some snobby rich kid typing that message with an exaggerated smirk.

A few days later, you were in the library again, trying to focus on your notes when your phone buzzed again. This time, you didn’t even hesitate before checking.

I hope you’re enjoying being a nobody while I’m out living my best life. Got a new Louis bag. It’s so much better than your stupid backpack.

You blinked at the message and felt a small surge of annoyance.

Why do you keep texting me?

Because it’s fun. You’re fun to mess with. Plus, I think you need me in your life.

You let out a frustrated breath and leaned back in your chair. Why did you care so much about a person who didn’t even know you? Still, something about this exchange—it was infuriatingly addictive. As much as you hated the arrogance behind every message, a tiny part of you almost looked forward to it. Maybe because it was the closest thing to excitement you’d had in a while.

Well, I don’t need you.

Uh-huh, sure. That’s why you keep replying, loser.

Your fingers twitched, and you stared at the screen for a moment. You weren’t sure if it was frustration or something else—something you definitely didn’t want to admit—but you couldn’t help yourself.

Fine. Whatever. But I’m not playing your games anymore.

Oh, you’re playing. You just don’t know it yet. :)

_____

The next week, you found yourself standing outside the classroom when you heard a familiar voice.

“Hey, nerd.”

You froze. No way. You turned around, heart suddenly hammering in your chest. Standing there, her arms crossed and a smug grin on her face, was none other than Kim Minjeong. The Kim Minjeong. The girl everyone talked about on campus. The one with the perfect hair, flawless skin, and an attitude that could probably melt steel. And yet, she was looking at you like you were her next personal project.

“You’re the one from my texts,” she said, clearly amused. “I didn’t expect you to actually show up in person. I was starting to think you were just a boring little avatar on my phone.”

You cleared your throat, completely caught off guard. “Uh… I—”

“Shut up. I’m not here for your excuses. I just wanted to see what kind of loser texts like that. What’s your deal? You too shy to have a real conversation with people?” She tilted her head, her smirk growing.

You opened your mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Was this really happening? You weren’t sure whether to feel angry or completely embarrassed.

“Well, no matter,” she continued, inspecting her nails. “You’ll be my little project now. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you. For now.”

You stared at her, unable to speak. All you knew was that this was the start of something much, much bigger than you ever anticipated. And for some reason, you had the feeling it wasn’t going to be easy to get out of it.

You stood there, dumbfounded, as Minjeong—Kim Minjeong, the girl everyone on campus gossiped about—stared at you, completely unfazed by your awkward silence.

“You’re not much of a talker, huh?” she asked, leaning slightly forward, her tone almost mocking. “That’s fine. I’ll speak for both of us.”

You swallowed, feeling a little dizzy. She was even more intimidating in person. Her pristine appearance, her confident posture—it all screamed “don’t mess with me,” and yet here you were, standing in front of her, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“I’m not trying to be mean,” Minjeong said, stepping a little closer. “But it’s really funny how you just take all my texts without saying anything back. You don’t even stand up for yourself. You just… let me walk all over you.”

You felt heat creeping up your neck, realizing she was right. You had been letting her mess with you, every text cutting through your defenses like a hot knife. And instead of standing up for yourself, you just let it happen, every time.

“Don’t worry,” Minjeong continued, her lips curling into a playful smile. “You’ll get used to it. Or not. I really don’t care either way.” She tilted her head, studying you with almost too much interest. “But hey, you’re not completely useless. You’re smart, right? The whole campus knows you’re the best in class. Maybe we can make a deal.”

You blinked, utterly confused. “A deal?”

“Mm-hmm.” She nodded, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “I need help in a few subjects. And since you’re such a little genius,” she said, rolling her eyes dramatically, “I guess I’ll let you tutor me. But only if you agree to one thing.”

Your mouth went dry. “What thing?”

Her smirk widened, the challenge in her eyes making you want to back away, but you were frozen in place. “You’ll stop being such a boring, quiet little nerd. I want to see a little more of a… backbone from you.”

You swallowed, unsure of what she meant. Was she actually asking you to change? To become someone else? Or was this another game she was playing? Either way, something about the way she was looking at you made it hard to say no.

“And if I don’t?” you asked, your voice shaky but defiant.

She stepped even closer, closing the space between you, her presence looming in a way that made your heart beat faster. “Then I guess you’ll just stay in your little corner, the same nobody you’ve always been.” Her voice was low, almost teasing. “But hey, that’s your choice.”

You stared at her for a moment, torn between the frustration of her arrogance and the tiny spark of curiosity she’d ignited in you. You had always been invisible to people like her—perfect, untouchable Minjeong. But here she was, asking you for something. Something that felt… a little too much like a dare.

“Fine,” you finally muttered, unsure of what you were agreeing to but too stubborn to back down. “I’ll tutor you. But don’t expect me to be your personal project or anything.”

Minjeong’s lips curled into a smirk. “Oh, but I think you already are my project, sweetheart.” She let the words hang in the air, her tone thick with a teasing edge. “You just don’t know it yet.”

_____

You tried to concentrate on your notes in the library. You really did. But the truth was, you couldn’t stop thinking about Minjeong. Every time she texted you, every time she cornered you between classes, she left you reeling. You couldn’t figure out if she was just messing with you or if she really expected you to change for her—whatever that meant.

Your phone buzzed again.

Hey loser, I finished that paper. I hope you’re not crying because I got it done before you.

You groaned and typed back.

You’re not funny.

I’m hilarious, and you love it.

You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond. But before you could type anything else, another message came through.

Meet me after class. I want to make sure you’re doing your job properly. I’ll be in the usual spot.

Your heart skipped a beat. The usual spot? What was that supposed to mean? You could already feel the nerves crawling up your spine. But there was no turning back now. You were in this—whether you liked it or not.

_____

You walked slowly across campus, your hands shaking in your pockets as you tried to ignore the growing anxiety in your chest. You had no idea what Minjeong wanted from you. Was she really expecting you to start acting differently? To… become someone like her?

You rounded the corner and saw her leaning against a tree, her sunglasses perched on her nose, looking effortlessly cool and completely out of place. Minjeong. The epitome of confidence, sitting there with her legs crossed and a casual smirk on her face as if she owned the whole campus.

She looked up when she saw you approaching and immediately stood up, her gaze shifting from indifferent to something more dangerous. “Well, well. Look who decided to show up.”

“I’m here,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, still not sure what to say to her.

Minjeong crossed her arms, eyeing you up and down. “So… how’s this tutoring thing gonna work?” she asked, a cocky edge to her voice. “You gonna teach me something useful? Or are you just gonna sit there and tell me about boring equations?”

You swallowed hard. “I’m here to help you with the subjects you need, not your attitude.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Is that so?” She took a step closer, almost invading your personal space. “And what if I don’t want to listen to your ‘help’? What if I want to see if I can break you first?”

Your heart raced as she loomed over you, a mischievous glint in her eyes. You didn’t know whether to be terrified or intrigued by the way she was looking at you. But in that moment, you realized something.

You were in deeper than you thought.

_____

You sat at the table in the corner of the campus library, the one you usually claimed as your quiet spot. Your heart was racing, palms sweaty, despite the fact that you were technically prepared for the tutoring session. You had organized your notes, had everything ready, and you were determined to act professional.

Except that Minjeong was coming.

You had no idea how it was going to go. Would she actually listen? Would she make fun of you the entire time? The idea of having her so close, her eyes boring into you while you tried to explain math or history or whatever… It was enough to make you squirm in your seat.

The sound of footsteps broke you out of your thoughts, and you looked up. There she was. Minjeong. She sauntered toward your table with a confident smirk plastered on her face, her designer bag slung carelessly over one shoulder, the soft click of her heels echoing in the otherwise quiet library.

“Hey, nerd,” she greeted, sitting down a little too close for comfort.

You flinched slightly, your body tense. The closer she got, the harder it was to keep your thoughts in order. You had to remind yourself that she was here to study. You weren’t just some random person she was bothering—no, she needed your help.

Right?

“Ready to teach me, or do I need to entertain myself first?” she asked, leaning back in her chair, casually brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes were playful, as though she knew exactly how she was affecting you.

You cleared your throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “We’re starting with history,” you muttered, opening your notes to the chapter you had planned on covering first. “I… I’ll just explain it, okay?”

“Sounds boring,” Minjeong said nonchalantly, but she leaned in anyway, her gaze never leaving you. “Go on. Teach me then. But, I gotta warn you, I’m not the best student.”

Her words shouldn’t have affected you the way they did, but they did. The teasing lilt in her voice, the way she sat just a little too close—it was making it hard to focus.

You coughed, trying to push the thoughts aside. “So, uh, this chapter is about—”

Before you could finish, Minjeong casually kicked her legs out, letting one of her feet brush against yours. You froze, your heart skipping a beat. Her eyes flicked down to where her foot had made contact with yours, then back up to meet your wide-eyed expression.

“Oops,” she said sweetly, almost too sweetly, “Did I do that?”

You nodded quickly, trying not to look like a mess. Why was she doing this to you?

“Focus, focus,” you muttered under your breath, forcing yourself to look at your notes. You opened your mouth to start again, but Minjeong wasn’t making it easy.

She leaned in closer, her face now dangerously near to yours, her lips just a breath away. “You’re really cute when you get all shy, you know that?” Minjeong’s voice was low, and the tone sent a strange shiver down your spine. “Makes me want to see just how far I can push you…”

Your cheeks went red instantly. You turned away, trying to act like you were still in control. You’re supposed to be tutoring her, you reminded yourself. You’re not supposed to be a nervous wreck.

“Stop distracting me,” you whispered, hoping she couldn’t hear the way your voice wavered.

Minjeong’s chuckle sent another wave of heat rushing to your face. “Distracting? I’m just trying to help you relax. You know, get rid of that stiff little nerdy vibe you’ve got going on.”

You wanted to protest, but the words didn’t come. Every inch of you was telling you to focus, but Minjeong wasn’t letting that happen.

She reached across the table, just a little too casually, and tapped the edge of your hand with her fingers. “You’re so serious all the time. Lighten up, will you?”

You jerked your hand back, feeling your pulse quicken at her touch. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. She wasn’t supposed to make you feel like this. You were the one in control here, the tutor, the smart one. Not her.

“I… I’m just trying to teach you,” you stammered, feeling the heat rush to your neck. “Can we please just focus on—”

But Minjeong wasn’t done yet.

Her chair scraped the floor as she moved just a little closer, until her body was practically pressed against yours. You stiffened immediately, trying to ignore the way her perfume clouded your senses. You could feel the heat radiating off her, and the distance between you was practically nonexistent.

“You’re cute when you get all flustered,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s honestly kind of adorable. Who knew the quiet nerd could be so… touchy?”

You swallowed, unable to think straight as she invaded your personal space even further. Minjeong’s lips were so close, and the way she was looking at you—like she was studying every reaction you had—it was making your head spin.

“I’m not—” you tried, but the words got stuck in your throat. You couldn’t even form a coherent sentence with her so close. You felt like a complete loser.

“Not what?” she teased, her breath warm against your skin. “Not flustered? You’re definitely flustered.”

You wanted to say something, anything to regain some of your composure, but Minjeong was relentless. She moved closer again, her hand resting casually on the table, dangerously close to yours. “I bet you don’t even know how much I’m messing with you right now. You’re such an easy target, you know?”

You couldn’t even look at her anymore. You were certain your face was so red, you might actually combust.

“Are you gonna answer me, or are you just gonna keep looking all embarrassed?” she purred, the teasing tone in her voice making you want to curl up into a ball.

“I… I don’t…” You couldn’t even finish the sentence. You just wanted to get through this tutoring session without completely losing your mind.

Minjeong chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the effect she was having on you. “Don’t worry, loser. I’m not that cruel. I’ll give you a break. But only because I’m feeling generous.”

You barely managed a shaky breath as she leaned back in her chair, her smile still playful, her eyes gleaming with amusement. You couldn’t believe how much she was affecting you with just a few words, a few touches. It was like she was purposefully breaking down every wall you had, and you couldn’t stop her.

You’re in over your head, you thought, unable to ignore the way your heart pounded against your chest.

You were trying. Really.

Trying to focus on the page in front of you, trying to explain the importance of some war or treaty or whatever the hell you were supposed to be teaching Minjeong. But it was impossible with her next to you, stretching in her chair like this was a spa day and not a tutoring session.

At some point, she had slid her chair even closer, until your knees were touching under the table. You had pulled back instinctively, but she only followed.

“I don’t bite, loser,” she whispered, her tone sickeningly sweet, “unless you’re into that kind of thing.”

You immediately choked on your own breath and coughed into your sleeve.

“God,” Minjeong laughed, “you’re such a mess.”

You slammed your textbook closed without meaning to. “I’m not a mess,” you muttered, even though your face was on fire and your hands were shaking slightly.

She leaned forward again, elbow on the table, chin resting on her palm, just watching you.

“Mm, sure. You’re not a mess. You’re just sweating and stuttering and can’t look me in the eye for longer than five seconds. That’s totally normal,” she said, voice laced with mock sympathy.

You clenched your fists in your lap, biting your tongue.

This was hell. She was hell.

“I don’t know why you’re even here if you’re not going to take this seriously,” you mumbled.

Minjeong blinked slowly. “What makes you think I’m not taking it seriously?”

You blinked back at her, dumbfounded. “Because you haven’t even opened your notebook.”

She smiled, almost innocent. “Yeah, but I’m watching you. That counts.”

“That’s not how studying works,” you said, exasperated, but your voice cracked halfway through the sentence, which absolutely killed any authority you were trying to have.

Minjeong reached across the table, slowly, and grabbed your pen. You thought she was going to mess with you again—but instead, she flipped your notebook toward herself and scrawled something at the top of the page.

You looked.

It said:

Loser Tutor’s Notes (feat. Me, Your Favorite Distraction)

You stared at it, dumbstruck.

“I’m going to murder you,” you said under your breath.

She just grinned wider, teeth flashing. “Now that’s more like it. There’s the spark I wanted to see. Who knew the little mouse could growl?”

You groaned and dropped your head onto the table.

“Oh my god. Please just read the chapter.”

Minjeong didn’t move.

You lifted your head slightly and gave her a side-eye. “What?”

She smiled like the devil. “You’ve got something on your face.”

You blinked. “What—?”

And then, without warning, she reached out and gently brushed her thumb across your cheek. You froze—completely, absolutely froze—because her hand was warm and soft and why was she touching you?!

“There,” she murmured, thumb lingering a beat too long. “Got it.”

You could barely breathe. Your brain was short-circuiting. You were ninety-nine percent sure your soul had just left your body.

She pulled her hand back slowly, eyes locked on yours.

“You look like you’re about to faint,” she said, tilting her head. “Are you okay, tutor?”

You nodded way too fast. “I’m—fine. Totally fine. Great. Studying. Yes.”

Minjeong bit her lip, clearly trying not to laugh.

“God, you’re fun,” she whispered.

You looked down at the table, your notebook blurry through the sudden rush of heat in your cheeks. You didn’t know if this was some long-con bullying tactic or actual flirting or just Minjeong being a chaotic menace, but whatever it was—it was working.

You were completely, helplessly flustered.

And Minjeong? Minjeong was thriving.

You were certain the library air conditioning was broken. That had to be it. No way the heat rising in your face, the pounding in your ears, the flushed feeling in your chest—it couldn’t just be because Kim Minjeong was looking at you like she was waiting for you to fall apart.

And you were dangerously close to doing exactly that.

She’d stopped “studying” five minutes ago—if she ever started. Now she was slouched low in her chair, legs stretched out under the table, one of them still brushing yours every time she shifted. She hadn’t moved it. Not once.

You, however, had shifted four times and were now practically sitting sideways in your own chair, clutching your pen like it was a lifeline.

Minjeong tilted her head again, her ponytail swinging over one shoulder. “You keep running away from me and we’re not even on problem three.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your throat was dry and your face felt like it was melting off.

“Are you nervous?” she asked softly, voice almost gentle. “Because I don’t bite unless you ask nicely.”

You accidentally dropped your pen.

She immediately leaned down to pick it up, and you scrambled—too late. Her fingers brushed yours as she handed it back, and you swear your heart jumped so hard you saw stars.

“Thanks,” you whispered, looking anywhere but her.

“You’re so cute when you’re panicking,” she murmured. “Seriously. I should mess with you more often.”

“You already do,” you muttered, surprising even yourself with how fast it came out.

Minjeong’s brows rose. “Oop. Did the mouse just bite back?”

You clutched your pen tighter. “I’m just trying to help you pass history. That’s it.”

“Yeah? And I’m just trying to help you grow a backbone.”

You looked at her finally, eyes narrowing.

She smiled—lazy, smug, teasing. “It’s working, isn’t it?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. She wasn’t even doing anything outrageous—just being there, being her. Minjeong had this way of making even the smallest things feel dangerous. Flipping her hair, licking her lip, leaning just a little too close when she didn’t need to. It was like she knew what she was doing to you.

And worst of all: it was kind of working.

“I think we should take a break,” you said suddenly, standing a little too fast. Your chair scraped loudly across the floor, drawing a few judgmental librarian glares. You winced and hunched your shoulders.

Minjeong blinked up at you, smirking. “Running away again?”

You didn’t answer. You were already speed-walking toward the little vending machine nook down the hall, trying to calm your nerves. You needed air. Or sugar. Or maybe holy water.

Behind you, you heard her chair scrape, and then the soft click of her shoes as she followed. Of course.

You stared blankly at the vending machine, pretending to decide between juice and soda, even though your hands were shaking too badly to press any buttons.

Minjeong came to stand beside you, casually leaning her shoulder against yours. “If I knew tutoring came with this much entertainment,” she said, “I would’ve signed up ages ago.”

“You’re evil,” you mumbled, pressing a random button. You weren’t even sure what snack you picked. It clunked down into the bin below and you reached for it blindly.

“I’m effective,” she said with a grin.

You didn’t move, just stared down at your snack. “I don’t get you.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “That’s what makes this fun.”

You turned to look at her. She wasn’t teasing now. She looked… curious. Like she was watching you figure something out and enjoying every second of your confusion.

“I don’t know if you’re making fun of me or if this is just your weird way of flirting,” you said, barely above a whisper.

Minjeong tilted her head again. “Can’t it be both?”

Your stomach flipped.

She stepped a little closer—barely noticeable, but enough that you felt her body heat again, that magnetic pull she always seemed to carry with her. “You’re not like everyone else. You’re awkward, and twitchy, and you talk to yourself under your breath, and it’s hilarious. But…”

She hesitated.

“But I think it’s kind of cute.”

You froze.

She leaned in, lips near your ear.

“…Which is really inconvenient, because I was planning on just messing with you until you cried.”

You stared at the vending machine like it held the secrets of the universe.

Then you whispered, “You still might.”

Minjeong laughed.

“Okay,” she said, tugging your sleeve, “break time’s over. Come back. I might actually let you teach me something this time.”

You followed her back to the table.

But your heart was no longer racing from panic.

It was racing because now, you weren’t sure where this game was going.

But you definitely weren’t losing anymore.

_____

You had been trying to keep a low profile. Hoodie up, headphones in, eyes on the ground. But apparently, fate—or maybe just Minjeong—had other plans.

You saw her before she saw you, standing under the shade of a tree with her usual entourage: Jimin, Aeri, and Yizhou. They looked like a poster for a perfume ad—flawless, bored, and too cool for the sun. Minjeong was leaned against the trunk, arms crossed, sipping an iced drink like she owned the quad.

And then she spotted you.

Her eyes lit up, sharp and interested, like she’d just remembered a game she wanted to keep playing. She straightened immediately.

“Loser!” she called, way too loud. Students nearby turned to look. You wanted to sink into the earth.

You paused, already overheating as she sauntered over, her friends watching with curious amusement.

“C’mere,” she said, grabbing your sleeve and tugging you away from the crowd and her clique. “I need to talk to you.”

“Uh, okay,” you mumbled, letting her lead you a few steps away. You glanced nervously at her friends, who were now openly watching the scene.

Minjeong didn’t seem to care. Her grip on your sleeve tightened like she thought you might run away if she let go.

“What’s with the hoodie? You trying to ghost me?” she asked, arching a brow. “You haven’t replied to my texts.”

“I didn’t think you actually… wanted me to,” you said honestly. “I figured you were just messing with me yesterday.”

She gave you a flat look. “If I was just messing with you, I wouldn’t have remembered your hoodie smells like vanilla and anxiety.”

You blinked. “…What?”

“Never mind,” she said quickly, cheeks barely pink. “Listen. There’s a party tonight. You’re coming.”

Your stomach twisted. “Minjeong, I don’t really—”

“Party,” she repeated, voice firmer. “Tonight. You. Me.”

You shook your head. “I’m not a party person. I’ll just—”

“Hey,” came another voice suddenly—light, amused. You turned to see Jimin, striding over, hands in her jacket pockets and smile too pretty to trust.

She gave you a slow once-over. “You’re the little tutor, right?”

Your mouth opened. Nothing came out.

“She’s my tutor,” Minjeong cut in, fast and clipped. “Mine.”

Jimin just smiled wider. “Relax. I’m not stealing your study buddy.” Her eyes flicked to you. “But if she ever gets tired of Minjeong’s attitude, I’m around.”

Minjeong stiffened beside you.

You, meanwhile, were having a mental shutdown.

Jimin winked. “You free tonight, sweetheart?”

Before you could combust on the spot, Minjeong reached over and grabbed your wrist, dragging you back toward the tree.

“She’s busy.”

“Am I?” you asked weakly, trailing behind her.

Jimin finally turned to her, raising a brow. “I didn’t ask what she was doing, Minjeong.”

“She’s going to a party,” Minjeong said through clenched teeth.

“Oh?” Jimin looked back at you, eyes glinting. “Are you?”

“I, um…” You hesitated, caught between them like you were the final rose on a reality show. “She just invited me…”

“She just invited you?” Jimin echoed, mock-surprised. “And you’re going? That easy, huh?”

Minjeong bristled beside you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Jimin said innocently, though she looked two seconds from grinning. “I just didn’t know our little tutor was such a yes-girl.”

“Back off,” Minjeong muttered, taking a step closer to you—not touching, but unmistakably claiming.

Jimin smirked, completely unbothered. “Relax, Minjeong. I’m just making conversation. Unless…” She looked at you again. “You wanna ditch her and come with me instead?”

You made a sound that might’ve been a nervous laugh, or maybe just your soul evacuating your body.

But before you could process the chaos any further, Minjeong leaned in close—her voice dropped to something lower, more serious, and surprisingly soft:

“Don’t listen to her.”

Minjeong stopped, turned, and stared at you. Her eyes were… not playful now. Not exactly angry either. Just tense. A little frustrated. A lot possessive.

Then her voice dropped to something quieter. “Come to the party. Please.”

The word please came out soft. Not bratty. Not sarcastic. Just… honest.

You looked up at her, stunned.

“I thought you didn’t care,” you said, barely audible.

Minjeong met your eyes. “I do.”

Just those two words. No teasing. No smug grin.

You swallowed hard, heart thudding. “…Okay. I’ll go.”

Her expression broke into something triumphant, and maybe just a little too pleased. “Good.”

She let go of your wrist—finally—and turned to walk back toward her friends, but not before tossing over her shoulder, “Wear something cute. I don’t want anyone thinking you’re single.”

You stood there, stunned.

And then:

Wait.

Did she just—

_____

Your bed looked like a tornado had passed through it. Clothes were everywhere. Hoodies, jeans, shirts you hadn’t worn since high school—piled up like casualties of war.

You stared at the mirror, frozen.

A skirt.

You were wearing a skirt.

A cute one, too—soft black pleats that hit just above the knee, paired with a tucked-in oversized cream sweater and the tiniest bit of lip tint you nervously applied three times. It was… girly. Way too girly for you. But you had tried jeans first. Three different pairs. And none of them felt right.

But the second you pulled on the skirt and glanced at your reflection, your brain screamed: Minjeong would stare at this.

Which. Was a problem. Because now all you could think about was her reaction. Would she tease you? Laugh? Say something like “Trying to impress me, loser?” and then flash you that smug grin that made your stomach somersault?

You groaned, flopping back onto your bed with a dramatic sigh.

“I’m going to die,” you muttered to the ceiling. “She’s going to eat me alive.”

Your phone buzzed.

[Minjeong]: u ready or r u still panicking abt ur outfit

You stared.

How the hell did she know?

Before you could respond, another message came through:

[Minjeong]: put something cute on. like that skirt u wore in that insta pic 4 months ago. i remember.

Your soul left your body.

That post had maybe three likes. You’d deleted it two hours after posting because you thought you looked awkward. She remembered it?

You swallowed hard, quickly typing back:

[You]: …i am literally wearing that skirt rn

Her reply came instantly:

[Minjeong]: good girl

You dropped your phone face down and covered your face with both hands.

“I’m not surviving this night.”

_____

The music was loud. The lights were low and warm and golden. People spilled out onto the porch and into the kitchen, laughing, dancing, shouting over whatever playlist was blasting from someone’s half-broken speaker.

You stuck to the wall like a nervous cat, clutching a solo cup filled with something fruity you hadn’t even tasted yet. Your heart hadn’t stopped racing since you stepped through the door.

Then—

“Holy shit.”

You turned. It was Minjeong.

Her eyes scanned you up and down. Slowly. She blinked like she’d just walked into something unexpected.

“You actually wore it,” she said, voice low, a little breathy.

You shrugged, cheeks on fire. “You said it looked good.”

Minjeong bit her lip, very visibly, and took a step closer. “I didn’t say good. I said cute. You look… dangerously cute.”

You blinked at her. “Dangerously?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, reaching out to tug at the hem of your sweater, her fingers brushing your bare thigh for a second that felt like an eternity. “Someone might flirt with you again.”

You swallowed. “Is that a problem?”

She stepped in fully now, her body practically brushing yours, voice dropping just enough that it buzzed against your skin.

“It is if it’s not me.”

You laughed nervously, but her eyes didn’t move from yours. She was serious again—Minjeong-serious, which meant she was probably five seconds from either kissing you or ruining your life with one sentence.

“You really look good,” she said softly. “I mean it.”

You nodded, biting your lip.

She looked down at your mouth, then back up.

And just like that, the space between you started to disappear.

The room spun a little, not from the drink—honestly, you were too scared to actually drink much—but from the way Minjeong was looking at you. Focused. Intense. Like she was choosing what to do with you very, very carefully.

You weren’t even sure what you were supposed to do. Say something cool? Flirt back? You were lucky you hadn’t spontaneously combusted the second she touched your thigh.

Minjeong’s fingers lingered on the hem of your sweater, her knuckles grazing skin. She leaned in just a bit more—her mouth dangerously close to your ear—and said, voice low:

“Everyone’s looking at you.”

Your heart jumped so hard you nearly choked.

She pulled back slowly, smug. “Bet you didn’t think wearing that skirt would make you the main character.”

You blinked, struggling to find your voice. “I didn’t wear it for them…”

Minjeong raised a brow.

“I wore it because you asked.”

That got her.

The smirk faltered for a half second, replaced by something softer—surprised, maybe even a little shy, though she’d never admit it. Her tongue poked the inside of her cheek as she looked you over again.

“…You’re gonna kill me,” she muttered under her breath.

And then—

“Hey!” someone shouted across the room. “We’re doing truth or dare in the living room. Get in here, Minjeong! Bring your girlfriend!”

Your brain stuttered.

Minjeong didn’t correct them. Just turned to you with a tilt of her head. “You in?”

“I—” You hesitated. “I’m bad at games.”

“You’re bad at everything,” she replied sweetly. “Come on.”

You were pretty sure your legs didn’t even work right as she grabbed your hand—your hand—and pulled you through the crowd. People glanced over as you passed, some whispering, others straight-up staring. You, the awkward, quiet tutor girl, holding hands with the most terrifyingly attractive brat on campus like it was normal.

You sat down beside her on the floor in the circle, already tense. The game had clearly started—half-empty cups, people mid-laugh, someone yelling about a dare involving whipped cream and the upstairs bathroom.

Minjeong didn’t let go of your hand.

Jimin sat across the circle, raised a brow at the sight of you, and smirked knowingly.

It was Minjeong’s turn. The bottle spun, slow and lazy, until it landed directly on… you.

A chorus of “oooooh”s filled the room.

You swallowed hard.

Minjeong leaned forward, that bratty glint fully returning to her eye. “Truth or dare, loser?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Thought about lying.

“…Truth,” you said weakly.

She pouted. “Coward.”

Then her eyes gleamed.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Do you like anyone right now?”

Your whole soul short-circuited. The entire circle perked up.

Your voice cracked. “That’s your question?”

“What?” she said innocently. “It’s just a game.”

You looked around. Everyone was watching you. Even Jimin, lips curled into a smirk like she already knew the answer. Especially Minjeong—leaned in, eyes locked on yours, like she was testing something.

You looked at your lap. Then, quietly:

“…Yes.”

Minjeong’s smile froze.

And then her voice dropped, quieter than before. “Do I get to know who?”

You looked up.

And just barely—only loud enough for her to hear—you whispered:

“If I said it was you, would you stop teasing me?”

Minjeong blinked. For once, she was speechless.

Then she laughed, almost breathless, and leaned in closer than ever before. “No,” she said. “That would just make me worse.”

And she still didn’t let go of your hand.

like she always did when she got her way.

Minjeong just stared at you. Like she was recalibrating something in her head.

Then, in classic Minjeong fashion, she leaned back like nothing happened at all—like you hadn’t just admitted you liked her in front of a crowd—and said lazily, “About time you said it.”

You flushed to your ears.

Someone whistled from across the circle. “Damn, is this a real thing now?”

“Obviously,” Minjeong replied with a toss of her hair, tightening her grip on your hand like it was proof.

“She didn’t say your name though,” Jimin pointed out slyly, swirling her drink. “Could’ve been me.”

Minjeong’s head snapped around so fast you could feel the heat rolling off her.

“Oh, really, Jimin?” she said, voice all sugar and knives. “You wanna go there again?”

“I’m just saying,” Jimin shrugged. “She did look kinda cute blushing when I talked to her.”

You, still attached to Minjeong’s hand, wished to be buried in a hole. Immediately.

But Minjeong was already turning back to you, letting go of your hand only to casually sling an arm around your shoulders. You stiffened like a board.

“She blushes when I breathe near her,” she told the group, shooting a smug grin at Jimin. “That doesn’t make you special.”

You whispered, “Oh my god,” under your breath.

The group howled with laughter.

You sank lower against the couch, every inch of your body warm, but Minjeong didn’t move her arm. In fact, her fingers started playing with the loose ends of your hair like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Next round,” someone called, spinning the bottle again. The game moved on, but Minjeong stayed close, thigh pressed to yours, one leg bent so her knee bumped against yours every now and then.

Every time someone got dared to do something loud or messy or flirty, you flinched. But Minjeong? She didn’t let them near you.

“Dare me to kiss anyone here,” someone slurred two seats away, clearly tipsy. “I dare you.”

“Not her,” Minjeong said immediately, pointing at you without even looking up. “She’s off-limits.”

You stared at her.

“Why?” someone asked with a grin.

Minjeong finally turned her head, looked at you—really looked at you, eyes a little darker now, a little softer.

“Because I’m gonna kiss her later.”

And just like that, you forgot how to breathe.

_____

You weren’t sure how you got here.

One second you were in the living room, sitting next to Minjeong with your face burning and your thoughts short-circuiting. The next, she was tugging your hand again, weaving you through the crowd like she owned the place (which, for all you knew, she might), until you reached the back hallway—quiet, dimly lit, with only the low bass of music muffled through the walls.

You stopped just outside an empty guest room.

She let go of your hand but stepped in close again, crowding you gently against the wall, her gaze unreadable but focused like a laser.

“You okay?” she asked, and for the first time tonight, her voice was calm. Serious.

You nodded too fast. “Y-Yeah. Just a little warm.”

Minjeong smiled—crooked and knowing. “You always get like this around me?”

You wanted to lie, but all you could do was squeak, “Maybe.”

She hummed, pretending to think. “That’s cute.”

Your breath caught when she reached up and brushed your hair away from your face. Her fingers were light, warm, more careful than you expected. And you hated—hated—how easily you melted under her touch.

“I meant what I said earlier,” she murmured. “About kissing you.”

Your throat closed up. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” she said plainly. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

You looked up at her, heart hammering, cheeks hot. You didn’t say anything—but you didn’t pull away either.

That was enough for Minjeong.

She leaned in slowly, giving you time, watching you for even the smallest flinch.

And when her lips finally brushed against yours—soft, teasing at first—you forgot how to think. It wasn’t rough or rushed or showy like you thought it might be. It was patient. Curious. Gentle, even as her hand settled on your waist and her body pressed a little closer.

You gasped just slightly, and she smiled into the kiss like she’d won a prize.

When she pulled back, it was only by a few centimeters. Her breath was warm on your lips.

“You’re really bad at hiding it,” she whispered.

“Hiding what?” you managed to breathe.

“How much you like me.”

You didn’t deny it.

Minjeong grinned—smug, beautiful, bratty. “Lucky for you, I like you back. Even if you’re a total loser.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said, dazed.

She kissed you again.

And this time, you kissed her back.

_____

The air hit you like a wall the second you stepped out the front door. Crisp, cold, sharp against your legs—the skirt suddenly felt like a criminal choice.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, already regretting not bringing a jacket. Not that you’d planned to be here long enough to need one.

Minjeong followed behind, pulling the door shut, the muffled sound of music and party noise sealing off in an instant. The night was quiet now. Just the wind, a few distant voices, and your heart still fluttering from what had just happened.

“You’re freezing,” she said, eyes flicking to your bare arms.

“I’m fine,” you lied quickly. “It’s not that—”

Before you could finish, she was already sliding off her jacket. Not just any jacket. A black designer bomber, subtly monogrammed with tiny initials and a luxury brand name you definitely couldn’t pronounce.

She held it out.

You blinked at her. “Minjeong, that’s like… probably worth more than my tuition.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a jacket. And you’re shivering.”

“I’m not—”

“Take it,” she said flatly. “Before I get mad about it.”

You stared.

She stared back.

You slowly took the jacket, and the weight of it was immediate. Heavy, expensive, warm—and it smelled like her. Some kind of clean, expensive perfume and something uniquely her. You pulled it on, the sleeves way too long, the shoulders slightly too broad.

And still, it felt… safe.

Minjeong looked you over once, then smirked. “Cute. Loser in designer. New aesthetic?”

You scoffed. “I look ridiculous.”

“You look like you’re mine,” she said under her breath. Then louder: “And it’s not ridiculous if I say it’s hot.”

You nearly tripped over your own feet.

She watched you fumble, grinning smugly, before walking ahead a few steps—then pausing and turning around, waiting for you to follow.

You did, hugging her jacket closer to your body, still buzzing from the kiss, her scent, her voice—everything.

She glanced back at you again.

“You hungry?”

You looked up. “What?”

“I’m starving,” she said. “Let’s go get food. I’m not ready to drop you off yet.”

“Minjeong—”

“Don’t argue,” she cut in. “You’re wearing my jacket. That makes you my responsibility.”

You rolled your eyes, flustered and grinning, and followed her into the cold.

The diner was exactly what you needed. Small, dimly lit, and filled with the faint hum of quiet chatter from a few other late-night customers. The warm glow from the neon signs outside flickered through the windows, giving everything a surreal, almost dream-like feel.

You slid into the booth across from Minjeong, still wearing her oversized designer jacket, which now felt like it belonged to you—despite the overwhelming scent of her still lingering on it. She didn’t say anything as she picked up the menu, her face softening for a split second before she took a casual glance at you.

You glanced down at the menu too, trying to look normal, but your fingers were still numb from the cold and your mind was racing a million miles an hour. You couldn’t stop thinking about what just happened—what she had said, the way she kissed you, how she’d taken off her jacket without hesitation and handed it to you.

She leaned back in the booth, her eyes scanning the menu, though you caught the way her gaze flicked to you every now and then, like she was waiting for you to say something.

“Don’t make me do all the talking,” she finally said, voice teasing. “Order something. It’s late. And I’m starving.”

You nodded, but before you could even pick something, she already waved the waitress over.

“I’ll have the pancakes and a coffee,” Minjeong said casually, flipping the menu shut. Then she turned to you with a raised eyebrow. “You?”

You hesitated, still feeling the weight of the moment, the kiss, the intimacy of it all. Finally, you settled on something easy—“Uhm, I’ll just have a burger, I guess.”

The waitress nodded and left.

You stared at the table, the silence between you stretching on. Minjeong didn’t say anything at first, letting you stew in your thoughts, her posture relaxed but the slight smile on her lips betraying a soft satisfaction.

“You’re really quiet all of a sudden,” she finally remarked, leaning in just a little. “That’s not like you.”

“I’m just… thinking,” you admitted, not really wanting to meet her gaze, but feeling the pull to do so. “About, well… everything.”

Minjeong’s lips curled up, a half-smirk forming. “And what exactly are you thinking about?” Her voice was lighter, teasing, but there was something underneath it, a small vulnerability that slipped through the cracks in her usual brash demeanor.

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to explain. “Just… you know. How things just kinda… happened?”

She tilted her head, eyes scanning your face for a moment. “It wasn’t that sudden, was it?” she asked, her tone more serious now, the playful edge gone.

You shrugged. “I mean, you were kind of… teasing me all night, and then the kiss, and now we’re here. I guess I didn’t really think it’d go this way.”

Her gaze softened a little, and she leaned forward just enough to close the space between you two. “You didn’t think I’d kiss you?”

You shook your head, feeling like an idiot. “No, I— I don’t know what I thought.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Minjeong reached across the table, her fingers brushing against yours for the briefest second, making your heart skip a beat.

“I’m not gonna lie,” she said softly, her gaze meeting yours with a sincerity that was rare for her. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while.”

You froze.

“I just didn’t know if you’d want it. I didn’t know if you’d be into it.” She paused, biting her lip in that way that sent a shiver through you. “But when you looked at me like that… I kinda lost control.”

You felt your face flush again, your chest tightening. “You’ve been wanting to kiss me? Seriously?”

She smirked again, just a little, but there was no mistaking the softness in her eyes now. “Why do you think I’ve been teasing you? Flirting with you?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your mind was still processing. Minjeong… wanted you? All along?

Before you could speak, the waitress arrived with their orders, setting the plates down with a quiet smile before walking off.

You reached for your burger, but your hand was shaking—just a little.

Minjeong noticed.

She leaned back in the booth, crossing her arms over her chest, the soft smile still on her lips as she watched you carefully. “Relax,” she said gently. “I’m not gonna bite. At least, not unless you want me to.”

You shot her a playful look, finally shaking your head and trying to settle into the moment. “I’m still figuring out what to do with you.”

“Good luck with that,” Minjeong said with a grin, reaching for her coffee. “I’m not easy, you know.”

You laughed quietly, still trying to get used to the idea of this—her teasing, her soft moments, the fact that she wanted to be close to you.

Minjeong’s eyes softened again, a little less cocky now, a little more real. “I’m serious though,” she said, her voice quieter, almost shy. “You do look cute in my jacket.”

You smiled, a little more at ease. “Thanks, Minjeong.”

“Anytime, loser.”

______

You took a bite of your burger, still flustered but feeling more comfortable now that the silence wasn’t quite as awkward. Minjeong was sipping her coffee, her fingers wrapped loosely around the mug, and you couldn’t help but notice the way she looked—more relaxed than usual, a little less like the untouchable queen of the campus and a little more like… well, someone you could actually talk to.

After a few more seconds of silence, you caught her glancing at you, a playful glint in her eye as she waited for you to say something.

And, for some reason, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Jeongie,” you said out of nowhere.

Minjeong blinked, the coffee cup pausing halfway to her lips as she stared at you. “What did you just call me?”

You tried to hold back your smile, knowing you had the upper hand now. “Jeongie. It fits you. You can’t just be ‘Minjeong’ all the time. It’s way too formal.”

Her eyebrow arched. “Jeongie?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, your grin getting wider. “It’s cute. I think it suits you better than ‘Minjeong.’ It sounds more… playful. Fun.”

Minjeong set her cup down, a small laugh escaping her as she leaned forward, looking at you with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “Jeongie, huh? Is that what you think of me?”

You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant despite the fact that your heart was suddenly racing again. “I don’t know. I mean, you’re definitely a little bratty sometimes, but I think you have a softer side. I think you like the nickname.”

Minjeong leaned back in the booth, crossing her arms and giving you a sideways smile. “You’re bold, aren’t you?”

You shrugged again, but this time your grin was playful. “What can I say? You bring it out in me, Jeongie.”

Her eyes narrowed in mock annoyance, but there was something warmer behind them now—something that made her seem less like the untouchable goddess and more like someone real. Someone you could actually imagine getting to know better.

“You’re gonna regret that nickname, loser,” she said with a sly grin, but there was no heat behind it. In fact, her lips twitched like she was trying not to smile.

“No way,” you retorted confidently, biting into your burger. “It’s perfect. You look more like a Jeongie than a Minjeong anyway.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t seem bothered by it. In fact, she leaned across the table again, her face now just inches from yours. “You’re so cute when you’re being a little brat, you know that?”

Your breath caught at the closeness. The teasing tone in her voice sent a shiver down your spine.

“Stop flirting,” you mumbled, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Minjeong’s smirk only deepened, and she sat back in her seat again, eyes never leaving yours. “I’m not flirting. I’m just telling you the truth.”

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. “Jeongie, you’re impossible.”

“That’s why you like me,” she replied smoothly, looking far too smug for someone who had just claimed that they weren’t flirting.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you filled with a mix of teasing and something else—something soft, almost like you were both trying to get used to the idea that you were sitting here together, just the two of you, talking in a way that felt more real than the game you’d been playing earlier that night.

Then, Minjeong’s voice broke the silence, quieter than before.

“You know, I’m really glad you came tonight,” she said, her tone a little more genuine, less teasing. “I… I wasn’t sure if you’d actually show up to the party. Or if you’d even want to be around me, after everything.”

You were caught off guard by the vulnerability in her voice. Minjeong—Jeongie—wasn’t the type to let people see her like this. She was usually cocky, sure of herself, a little untouchable.

But now? There was something else there. Something softer.

“I almost didn’t,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “But… I’m glad I did too. I… I like being around you. Even if you’re a brat.”

Minjeong looked down for a second, almost like she was processing your words, before her gaze met yours again. There was that familiar spark in her eyes, but it was mixed with something else now—something warmer.

“I like being around you, too, loser,” she said softly, before leaning back in the booth with her usual cocky grin. “But don’t get used to me being nice.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, feeling a wave of warmth spread through you. There was something about this side of her—the side she only showed when it was just the two of you—that made you feel a little braver. A little more confident.

“Jeongie, I don’t think I could ever get used to you being nice,” you teased, feeling more playful now. “You’re way too much of a brat for that.”

Her eyes sparkled as she leaned forward again, her voice low and dangerous. “Keep calling me that, and I’ll make sure you never forget who’s in charge, loser.”

The intensity of her gaze sent a thrill through you, but you couldn’t help but smirk back.

“Only if you can keep up, Jeongie.”

[moonstruckme]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write (any length you’d like) Remus smut where reader is just so so desperate for him and he’s such a soft Dom🫶🏻 if not please just disregard this🫶🏻

Hi, thank you for requesting! Honestly unsure if this qualifies as full smut, but I hope you like it

cw: smut mdni, dom/sub dynamic

modern au

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 688 words

You’re hovering by the door. You think you’re being quiet, but Remus can hear the floorboards creaking as you shift from foot to foot. 

Reluctantly, he tears his attention from his story. “Something the matter, dove?” 

Your eyes widen. As if you’d never in a million years have expected to attract his notice. Remus might roll his eyes if it weren’t so cute. 

“No,” you say quickly. “Everything’s fine, just miss you.” 

He gives you a small smile. “Sorry, I won’t be much longer. You know how it is, though, I can’t just stop in the middle of a chapter or I’ll have trouble getting back in the flow next time.” 

“Right, I know.” You rub your lips together. “I’m not trying to rush you.” 

“Just a few more minutes, honey.” 

“Okay.” 

There’s a moment of silence, but Remus lets it sit, sensing you have more to say. 

He’s right. “Can I sit by you while you work?” your voice is tentative. “I’ll be quiet.” 

He chuckles. “Yeah, course you can.” 

You go eagerly to his feet, resting your cheek against his leg. “Thanks,” you mumble. 

Remus manages to type with one hand so he can stroke your head while he works. He’s nearly done with his chapter when he feels movement against his thigh. He looks down. You’re nuzzling your cheek against the rough material of his pants with glazed-over eyes, teeth working into your bottom lip. He thinks he sees your thighs shifting against each other under your skirt.

“Baby.”

The word sounds dipped in honey, and yet you look up like you’re in trouble. 

“Sorry,” you say, lifting your face from his leg. 

“It’s alright,” he says gently. “I didn’t realize you were feeling so needy, honey. Wanna sit on my lap and keep yourself busy while I finish up?” 

A smile splits your face, and Remus chuckles when you scramble up. He sets a hand on your waist as you straddle his leg, your skirt fanned out around you.

“Just take it easy, alright? I’m almost done, I’ll take care of you in a minute.” 

You nod happily. “Thanks, Rem.” 

“Course.” 

Remus tries to focus on the story as he types, but it’s not easy. You work yourself up in record time, fingers digging into his shoulders and lips turning red and raw as your hips move under his hand. He can feel the heat of you through his pantleg. 

The words are far from perfect, but it’s a relief when he finishes. You look up when his laptop shuts with a click. Your eyes brighten. 

“You having fun, dove?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Yeah?” Remus lets his voice stretch out low and sultry, reaching up to run his thumb over your bottom lip. It’s wet and swollen, pliable to his touch. Your eyelids droop and you grind your hips harder into his thigh. “You’ve been such a good girl for me.” 

You flush a pretty pink but can’t repress your smile at the praise. Remus kisses you slowly, paying special attention to that tormented bottom lip. He soothes his tongue over the bite marks you’ve made, stroking your hip from bum to waist with his hand. 

“Why’re you embarrassed?” 

“I’m not embarrassed.” 

“No?” He kisses the supple skin underneath your jaw, pressing his lips to your racing pulse. “You’re blushing like mad, dove.” 

You fluster, setting your hands on his face and ducking away from him. “Remus,” you whine. “You’re being mean.” 

He grins, almost sheepish but not quite. “You’re right, honey, I’m sorry. You’re just too cute like this.” 

“You said you’d take care of me,” you remind him. “I was good for you.” 

“You were,” he agrees, bestowing a far kinder kiss to the corner of your lips. “You’re always my good girl, hm?” 

You gasp as his hand slips under your skirt, fingers flattening over your panties. They’re soaked. He hooks a finger in the fabric to pull it aside, keeping his eyes on yours while he prods experimentally at your warmth. 

You make a quiet whimpering sound. Remus kisses you placatingly. 

“You always get what you want in the end, don’t you?”

[hsunrry]

water whale // one shot

harry styles x fem!reader

summary: based on this request. this person also requested it to be a smut on pv message, so there you go!

|| masterlist ||

words: ~2,1k

warnings: smut18+, praise, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: once again, sorry for taking so long, but i’m back home now finally! so, i’ll be back to posting regularly!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“you know what i think?” you asked, looking up at him while standing under the stream of hot water. his hands were washing your body tenderly. he looked down at you, humming questioningly. “that you should do this ‘water whale’ from your mouth on stage. i don’t get why you’re refusing to do it, it looks so cool.”

“a ‘water whale’?” he chuckled, shaking his head. “it’s so cheesy, i’m not doing that.”

“i bet fans would love it.” you said, massaging soap into his chest. “and the boys too.”

“alright.” he sighed, rubbing your back with his hand. “i’ll do it under one condition, since you really want me to.” you nodded eagerly, wanting him to continue. “you’ll do something you’re refusing to do as well.” there was a hint of teasing in his voice as he looked at you.

“what are we talking about exactly?” you chuckled softly. he raised his eyebrow playfully.

“you know, there is this one thing you’re refusing to do since we’re together that i’d really like to try…” his hands continuing their tender exploration on your skin.

“you’re not talking about sitting on your face, are you?” you asked, your eyes never leaving his. Harry’s face split into wide grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“bingo.” he leaned down and kissed your neck softly. “it’ll be fun, i promise.” he murmured, his voice low. “you’ll get me doing water thing on stage and i’ll get your pretty pussy on my face in the way i always wanted.” he tilted your chin up. “sounds fair to me, sunshine.”

“okay, fine.” you rolled your eyes playfully, agreeing only because you were sure he won’t do it. you were asking him for that since first tour and he never did that. he seemed like he saw through your agreement.

“oh, i’ll do it for sure, baby.” he grinned.

“yeah, whatever. the tour is starting in two weeks so i expect you to do it at first show then.” you smiled, getting out of the shower. he only laughed softly, turning off the water and following you out. after two weeks, you were sitting in the vip section for friends and family at opening show of the tour. it was going normal at first, but when you saw him taking his water bottle before the next song your eyes widened slightly. he winked at you from stage, lifting the water bottle dramatically to show you. you watched him pouring water in his mouth and when the song started, he spat it above himself, creating a mist. your jaw dropped slightly when he actually did that. he blew the kiss into your direction after that, mouthing to you ‘your turn’. when the show ends, you went backstage to wait for him. he finally emerged from his dressing room, grinning mischievously. he pulled you into tight hug, his hands wandering to your ass.

“you know what time it is, right?” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. “you owe me, sunshine.”

“yes, i’m very aware of that.” you chuckled softly, seeing his eyes lit up with excitement.

“well then, shall we go back to our hotel room?” he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, leading you to the exit of the venue. “i can’t wait to have you sitting pretty on my fa-“

“are you guys going to the after party?” Niall approached us. Harry glanced over at him, his expression turning hesitant for a moment, before he looked back at you.

“nah, mate. we have some things to do.” he only nodded when your boyfriend said this, quickly going back to the rest of the band. “now, where were we?” he turned his attention back to you. “oh yes, i remember now.” his hand entwining with yours as he led you to the waiting car.

“you’re a little too excited about this, don’t you think?” you teased, going out from the venue. paparazzi already took few photos of both of you on the way to the car. he helped you to the backseat, sliding after you.

“i’ve been dreaming of this since you agreed, can you blame me?” he grinned. you only shook your head amused, letting know the driver to go. as the car pulled away from the curb, he turned to face you. he leaned in close, his breath tickling your ear. “you know, a part of me can’t believe you actually agreed to that.”

“i agreed, because i didn’t expected you to actually do it.” you looked up at him and he pulled back slightly to look at you.

“i always keep my promises, you know that sunshine.” he smiled, his fingers tracing invisible patterns on your thigh. “and now, it’s your turn to keep yours.”

“you know i’m not breaking my words.” you leaned up to give him a quick kiss. he deepened it hungrily, his hands sliding up your sides to cup your breasts through the fabric of your dress. “we didn’t even left the car, babe.” you chuckled between kisses. he pulled back reluctantly.

“you’re right. as much as i’d love to ravish you right here, it’ll be better if we wait till we get to the hotel.” he smirked. after few more minutes of driving the car parked next to the hotel entrance. he helped you out the car, keeping a protective arm around your waist as he led you quickly into the hotel. he practically dragged you to the elevator, jabbing at the button impatiently. you only smiled at his behavior. once the elevator doors closed behind you, he backed you up against the wall. his hands roaming over your body. “i can’t wait to get you out of this dress.” he murmured, his lips trailing along your neck. “and these heels…”

“yeah?” you smiled, your hand sneaking on the nape of his neck. he growled approvingly, his hips bucking forward slightly. the elevator dinged softly, signaling the right floor. he grabbed your hand, pulling you out and into the room, barely pausing to fish out the key card.

“bed. now.”

“someone’s eager.” you teased, going after him to your bedroom. he spun you around, crashing his lips against yours in heated kiss as he backed you towards king-sized bed. his fingers made quick work on your zipper, letting it pool around your ankles. since you didn’t had a bra on yourself, he was drinking the sight of you only in your panties. he practically tore off his own shirt, going back to kiss you eagerly and leaving himself only in boxers in meantime. his hands roamed over your naked body greedily as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with yours. he walked you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed, lowering you onto plush mattress and covering your body with his. your panties were quickly gone too and when you broke the kiss, you watched him positioning himself on his back, flat on bed.

“come on, sunshine.” he took your hand. “i want to feel you on my mouth.”

“you sure?” you asked, watching him nod emphatically, his eyes darkening with desire.

“oh, i’m sure.” he reached out, grabbing your hips and pulling you up his body, until your core was hovering just above his face. “straddle me, baby. i want to taste you.” you positioned yourself just at his mouth, feeling him groaning in appreciation as your slick heat settled over his mouth. he licked slow stripe up your center, before delving in. his tongue circling your clit before sucking it between his lips. his hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he devoured you with enthusiasm. you moaned and your hand went to grip the headboard, as he continued to feast on you. his tongue thrusting in and out of your pussy, his nose pressing against your clit. he could feel your legs trembling and your hand fisting the headboard as you lost control. “fuck, you taste so good, sunshine. so fucking sweet.”

“oh god, Harry.” you gasped, your free hand going into his hair. he groaned against your flesh, vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. your head snapped back from pleasure and he could feel your walls starting to flutter and clench around his tongue. he doubled his efforts, sucking hard on your clit and fucking you with his tongue right after. his fingers dug into soft flesh of your ass, urging you to grind against his face. “fuck, i’m gonna come.” you moaned. his last groan against you was enough to get you cry out of pleasure. your hand tightened in his hair as you finished and your walls clenched around his tongue. he slowed his movements to help ease you through the aftershocks. he placed a final, soft kiss on your clit, before slowly releasing his hold on you. he looked up at you with satisfied smirk, licking his lips.

“mhm, dessert was delicious.” you only chuckled breathlessly at his words, getting off his face to lay down on him. he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against him. “you okay, my love?” he murmured, going up and down your back with his hands. “because i’m not quite done with you.” you smiled with a nod, feeling him positioning both of you against headboard, with you straddling his lap. he gazed up at you with lust-filled eyes, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “ready to ride, sunshine?” his hands slid up your thighs to grip your hips, rocking you subtly against his hard cock. you quickly took off his boxers, his length bobbing up against his abs once it was free. he wrapped his hand around it, guiding the tip to your opening when you lifted your hips up. “now, baby, slide down on me. nice and slow.” you licked your lips slightly, lowering yourself on him. you both moaned deeply when your tight heat enveloped him, his head falling back against the headboard. “fuck, you feel incredible.” his hands tightened on your hips, helping you guide your movements as you started to move up and down slowly. “that’s it, sunshine. take what you need.” you leaned in to kiss him, he kissed you back hungrily as he matched the slow, deep rolls of your hips, savouring the feeling of your walls gripping him like a vice. “mhh… you’re perfect.” he gasped against your lips between kisses. you smiled into the kiss, sitting all the way down and grinding on him in the way you knew he loved the most. his eyes rolled back in bliss as you sunk down fully, his cock buried to the hilt inside your dripping wet pussy. he broke the kiss, his head falling forward to rest against your shoulder. “fuck.” he panted. your own head snapped back from pleasure with a moan. his hands tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he started to move you up and down on his cock at a frantic pace. he was lost in the feeling of you wrapped around his dick. “so fucking good, baby. you’re so fucking good.”

“yes, right there Harry.” you moaned. he captured your lips in searching kiss, swallowing your moans as he continued to slap you down his length. few seconds later he pushed you on the bed, being now on top of you. he broke the kiss to bury his face into your neck, his hips pistoning between your thighs as he pinned your wrists above your head. he could feel you getting closer, your breath hitching. “j-just like that, fuck, yes, i’m gonna come!” you moaned. his thrust becoming erratic as he chased his own release. he angled his hips to hit that sweet spot inside you, grinding his hips against your clit with every thrust.

“come on, sunshine. let go for me, i’ve got you.”

“oh fuck!” you cried out, your whole body arching from intense release. when he felt your pussy clenching around him, it was enough for him to finish as well. his teeth sinking into your neck as he emptied himself deep inside you.

“fuck, fuck-“ his body shaking with the force of his orgasm. you were both breathing heavy. he collapsed on top of you, his sweaty forehead resting against yours. he peppered your face with soft kisses as you both came down from your highs. “you okay, love?” you only nodded with soft smile, your hand going on his cheek. he nuzzled into your touch. “i love you so much, sunshine.”

[love-lilacs]

this version of you | frank langdon x reader

Frank hasn’t let go of your hand, but his eyes flicker between them and the sidewalk in front of you, uncertainty threading through them. You feel the pulse of it—the space between what has always been  “friends” and the new possibility of something more.

His thumb brushes the back of your hand, just once, but it’s enough to send a shiver up your spine. You try to ignore it, but the tension is too much to ignore now. It’s there in the way his glance flits to you.

warnings: angst angst and more angst. i finished the pitt and this is what came of it. frank and his wife are divorced and have been separated for some time. drinking. feewings.

word count: 3.0k

Day shift was finally ending.

“You alright?” you ask Frank, nudging his shoulder with your own. Truthfully, you wouldn’t be able to move him if you tried. You’re not dainty by any means—four years of Emergency Nursing have ensured that you can hold your own—but Frank is his own beast. He’s sturdy; you know he likes to lift and run at least three times a week, working off adrenaline from long stints in the emergency room.

He shrugs, pulling his old crimson Harvard hoodie over his head. “Oh, yeah, stellar. My ex-wife has my son, and after a stressful shift of saving lives, I get to go home to an empty apartment.” His tone is dry, sarcastic, and beneath it all, you know something inside him is bitterly hurt by the turn his life has taken.

You close your locker—albeit a bit more loudly than probably necessary. “Come on. Me, Mel, Santos, and Robby are going to grab drinks. Your attendance is mandatory.”

He glances sideways at you, shouldering his backpack. “Mandatory, huh? Sounds like I don’t have a choice.”

“You don’t.” You smirk, mirroring his action and slinging your own bag over your shoulder. “You’re broodier than normal, and Robby said if you get any grumpier, he’s going to send you to gastro for an ulcer check.”

“I’m not brooding.” He scoffs. You don’t answer, only peering at him out of the corner of your eyes, a smirk tugging at the side of your lips. 

The two of you exit into the fluorescent-lit hallway and towards the cool night air. Behind and around  you, the E.R. hums, a never-ending blur of motion and crisis. Just another Thursday. 

“You know,” You say carefully. “you don’t have to pretend like everything is fine all the time.”  

Frank stays quiet for a beat, gaze fixed ahead. “I deal with it. That’s enough.”

That silences you. You’ve seen the storm that brews at Frank’s edges. That passion and drive within him. The storm brewing beneath the surface is relentless and all-consuming. It’s what makes him an excellent doctor. It’s what made you soft for him all those years ago, when you had gotten your first job out of college and he started his residency. You both were young, and those late nights and long hours built a bond between you. But Frank had Abby, so you shoved your heart’s desires down to your core, settling for an easy friendship instead.

Frank stops in front of the exit doors, pulling it open for you. “Let’s go. I’ll even buy your first round.”

The grin that splits your face is easy, unforced. “Now you’re talking.”

As you step into the dark Pittsburgh night, cool air greets your skin, a springtime promise of green and flowers coming soon.

The bar is one of those low-lit neighborhood places— wood-paneled walls, baseball and Stanley Cup Playoffs playing on the T.V., the smell of overly sweet liquor and smoke clinging to the air so tightly you’re sure no air freshener could possibly rid the scent. The crew has claimed their regular sticky booth in the corner: Santos is already halfway through a beer, Mel’s nursing something bright pink and looking around as though she’s late for something, and Robby’s telling a story that involves far too many hand gestures.

You slide into the booth across from them. The day’s stress lifting off of your shoulders as you settle next to your friends. Mel immediately brightens. “Long time no see!” 

“We see way too much of each other for people that don’t live together.” You tease, settling down. Abbott grumbles something incoherent from Robby’s side. 

“And you love us anyways.” Whittaker smiles; the boldest he’ll get. 

Frank sits unceremoniously next to you, placing your usual bottle of Angry Orchard Cider in front of you. 

“Hey, he lives!” Santos snarks, a Cheshire Cat smile splitting her face. “Didn’t think Langdon ever left the hospital unless he was dragged out.”

Frank lifts his bottle in a mock toast, “Guess I make exceptions.”

Mel eyes him, skeptical. “You good?”

Frank shrugs, takes a sip. “Define good.”

The table quiets for just a moment, just long enough for the silence to get a little heavy—before Robby jumps in. 

“Alright, enough feelings. Did I tell you about the guy who came in and tried to convince us that he “fell” on his Batman figurine?”

Laughter bubbles up around the table, the prior conversation slipping away and into the din of the bustling bar. Even Frank manages a smile as you tilt your head ever so slightly so that your cheek brushes his shoulder. When he looks down, he can see the way your lips pucker at the bottle opening and your eyelashes flutter contentedly. Something warm and fluttery settles in his core. Something he hasn’t felt before. 

—

“You don’t have to be ‘on’ with us, you know,” you say quietly.

You and Frank have drifted away from the others. The buzz of background chatter fills the space, but neither of you have been talking for a while. He nurses his third beer, watching the bartender cut limes with surgical precision. The two of you have the sides of your legs pressed together despite the large amount of space the bartop offers. Frank is unbelievably warm and you can smell the last bits of cologne and laundry detergent that cling to him.

He doesn’t look at you. “Saying it out loud won’t change anything.”

You lean against the bar, facing him. “No, but maybe it stops it from eating you alive.”

Frank scoffs. “I’m still standing, aren’t I?”

“Yeah,” you say. “But for how long?”

That lands. He doesn’t answer. Just stares at the glass in his hand like it might solve something.

Then, finally: “You’re not wrong. But I don’t know what to do with ‘right’ anymore.”

It’s the most you’ve gotten from him in weeks. Perhaps stupidly, you push it. “It’s not a crime to feel things.”

"Yeah, well... feelings don’t really fix much, do they?"

Frank glances at you briefly, then looks back down at his drink, voice growing lower. 

"But I guess everyone has their moments."

Frank shifts, elbows resting on the counter, his gaze flicking to the door, then the window. Outside, it’s started to rain, tapping lightly on the glass, like the world itself is breathing. You find comfort in it as the bar behind the two of you begins to empty. Mel wraps you in a hug, Santos squeezing your arm, and Robby wishing you and Frank a good night as they brave the rain. 

You don’t want to break the moment, but you can’t help it. "You ever think you could just—stop?" you ask, the question hanging there between you both.

Frank doesn’t answer right away, his thumb running absentmindedly along the lip of his bottle. His jaw tightens for a moment, like he’s weighing the words, but when he finally speaks, his voice is quieter than before, almost hesitant.

"Sometimes," he says, his eyes not quite meeting yours. "But I don’t know what to do if I did. I don’t know how to breathe without it all."

His words feel raw, more honest than he’s been in a long time. The air between you thickens, and it’s hard to ignore the way his shoulders seem to slump just slightly, like he's giving you a glimpse of the side of him that’s usually hidden.

You lean in a little closer, your voice low, careful. "You don’t have to be that person. The one who keeps everything running."

Frank finally looks up at you, his gaze intense—searching, maybe—like he’s seeing you for the first time. His blue eyes soften for just a second before the walls harden back into place.

"You think I have a choice?" he asks, voice a little rougher now. “It’s what I’ve always been and I just- I don’t have that anymore.” 

You hesitate, feeling the weight of the question in the pit of your stomach. You want to reach out, to close the distance between you both, but the moment feels fragile. It’s too soon. This version of Frank isn’t yours. Instead, you settle for a quiet, honest answer.

"I think you do," you say softly, eyes holding his. "But it’s okay if you don’t want to. Not yet."

Frank’s breath catches, and for a long moment, the two of you are locked in that quiet space, neither of you speaking, but both of you feeling everything in the silence. It’s as if everything that’s unsaid is hanging between you, suddenly too real to ignore, too important to push aside.

Finally, Frank shifts, a chair behind him scraping softly against the floor as he leans in slightly—closer than he’s ever been, closer than you expected. His eyes flick to your lips for a fraction of a second before meeting your gaze again. Your lips part, breath catching. 

"You’re something else," he mutters, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It's the first real smile you’ve seen tonight, and it hits you like lightning, hot, white energy reaching down to your toes

Your heart skips a beat. You want to say something—anything—to keep this moment from slipping away, but the words catch in your throat. Instead, you simply let the quiet between you deepen. 

Too soon, he pulls away, leaving you a flushed mess in front of him. “Let me walk you home.”  

You nod, finishing off the last of your drink as if it could possibly make your forget exactly what just transpired between the two of you.

And then, without thinking, you reach out, just a little, your hand brushing against his. It’s a small gesture, but the contact feels electric. He doesn’t pull away, and when you look up, his eyes have softened again, something unspoken passing between you.

His voice drops lower. "Don’t do that. You know what happens when you do."

You can feel the tension, the unacknowledged weight of what’s been building up between you both for so long. But tonight, the words are no longer necessary. Instead, it’s in the way your fingers linger on his, the way his breath seems to hitch just slightly when he looks at you again—closer, too close to be just casual.

For a moment, the world outside doesn’t matter. Not the patients, not the work, not the endless chaos. Just the feeling of being here—together, in this quiet space you’ve created, where everything else can wait. 

Frank squeezes your hand once. “Ready to go?” It’s not a question. He knows you are. But he still checks, ensuring you know exactly what he’s going to do next.

The air between you both feels thicker now on the walk, charged with something unspoken. Frank hasn’t let go of your hand, but his eyes flicker between them and the sidewalk in front of you, a nervous uncertainty threading through them. You feel the pulse of it—the space between what has always been  “friends” and the new possibility of something more.

His thumb brushes the back of your hand, just once, but it’s enough to send a shiver up your spine. You try to ignore it, but the tension is too much to ignore now. It’s there in the way his glance flits to you. You stop in front of your apartment building, facing each other. 

The rain has slowed now, small drops that hit your clothes, but not enough to leave a wet mark. They dry before the next one hits. 

Frank’s voice comes out quietly, hoarse, like he’s fighting something, pushing it down. "You don’t know what you’re doing to me, do you?"

You swallow hard, the words getting stuck in your throat. But you don’t pull away. Instead, you press your fingers against his, just enough to show you’re still here. “Maybe I do.”

His gaze sharpens, like a challenge in his eyes. His fingers twitch against yours, but he holds back, still caught somewhere between wanting to pull you closer and keeping his distance. You can almost see the wheels turning in his head.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, the space between you so close you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin.

You don’t answer immediately. Instead, you lean just a fraction closer, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body. Your heart beats a little faster now, conflict pulsing in your core. Years of yearning finally culminating in this moment. It’s all been a dull drone, a bruise that only hurts when you press at the right angle. 

You shift on your feet, your face so close to his now that you can count the tiny flecks of gold in his stormy eyes. The quiet between you is heavy, pulsing with every breath. Your fingers move, brushing against his again, and this time, there’s nothing tentative about it. He raises his other hand, brushing his fingers over your cheek bone with a butterfly touch. 

It’s a fairytale moment. Years of wanting him, loving him, for all he’s truly been. Not the charade he puts on for everyone, not the excruciating effort he felt he always to put in for Abby just so she might feel even a fraction of love for him. It’s every damn daydream you’ve had finally coming true. It’s real, it’s warm, and as his lips finally finally brush against yours- 

It’s not right.

Because this version of Frank doesn’t belong to you. This version of Frank is aching and lonely, looking for whatever comfort anyone can provide him. You can’t be the one to warm his bed tonight, hoping he’ll be there when you wake up. You don’t think your heart could take it if he wasn’t. 

Despite every alight nerve in your body begging you to stay, your eyes flutter open.

You pull away, just a fraction, just enough to break the spell. Frank blinks like he’s waking up from something he didn’t mean to fall into. His hand is still on your cheek. Yours is still wrapped around his.

“I can’t.” You breathe, heart shattering as the words leave your lips. “This version of you doesn’t belong to me,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

Frank doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe. “What the hell does that mean?”

You step back, forcing space. The air feels colder immediately, no longer comforting. “It means this—whatever this is—you’re not here because you want me. You’re here because you’re tired. Because you’re lonely. Because you’re drowning and I just happen to be here.”

He flinches. The words sting, even if he knows they’re true.

“That’s not what this is,” he says firmly, but it’s too defensive, the same tone he uses when advocating for a stubborn patient. 

You meet his eyes. “Isn’t it?” You ask weakly.

Frank takes a breath like he’s about to argue, but nothing comes out. Instead, he just scrubs a hand down his face, tense and restless. “So what, you want me to pretend I don’t feel better when I’m around you? That I can’t finally fucking breathe when I’m around you, even just sitting there, not talking?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you reply, tears welling in your eyes. “I know you’re carrying a lot. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it. But you can’t dump it all at my feet and then kiss me like it doesn’t mean something, like it’s just another release valve.”

Frank steps forward. Just one step. Close again. His eyes are dark, unreadable. “And if it does mean something?”

Your breath catches. “Then maybe figure out what that something is before you ask me to jump with you. I can’t do it. I’ve- I’ve wanted you for too long.”

The silence between you stretches, taut and heavy. Neither of you blink. Neither of you breathe. He looks at you like he’s trying to memorize your face, like he's afraid it’ll disappear if he turns away too fast or says something too quickly.

“I didn’t plan this,” he mutters. “You know that, right?” He says it like a vow, and you know, you just know, that it’s true. 

“I know,” you say. “But that doesn’t make it fair.”

He looks down, thumb absently rubbing at a scar near his knuckle. You’ve seen him do it in the E.R. when things get tense. You’ve never told him you noticed. You’re not sure he could handle being seen like that right now.

“You think I’m using you.”

You hesitate, a lump rising in your throat.  “I think you’re using this—the quiet, the closeness, the way it feels easier when you’re with me. And maybe that’s not the same as using me, but it’s just not something I can do.”

Frank nods once. Slow. Measured. And then he lets out a laugh, low and bitter. “You’re probably smarter than me.”

“That’s not the point.”

“No,” he says, stepping back this time. “But it explains why you’re the one walking away.”

“I’m not walking away.” You snap, clenching your fists. 

“Aren’t you? When was the last time you took a risk? You’re so scared to get hurt that you won’t do anything that could possibly lead to something you want.” He says it factually, sharply. You’ve hurt him, you know that, and he’s reaching for whatever he can to make you feel how he does. 

You blink, stunned by his words. In all your time together, he’s never said anything so cruel to you. 

“Whatever.” His eyes are still locked on yours. His shoulders are still hunched. “I wanted you. As you were then, as you are now.”

You almost stop him. You almost say something—anything—to soften it. But you don’t. Because this needs to hurt, or it won’t mean anything later.

He turns toward the street, pausing under the glow of the flickering streetlamp. His hands are in his pockets, his shoulders hunched forward like they’ve finally caved.

Something breaks inside you, realizing he truly is leaving. “Frank-”

“I’ll see you around,” he calls without turning.

And then he’s gone.

You don’t go inside right away. You stand frozen on the stoop, feeling the place where his hand had just been, the warmth fading from your skin as the tears finally fall.

[hannahbisssssss]

Dinner and Diatribes (Nandor the Relentless x fem!Reader)

Author's Note: When asked to write this piece, I wanted to make it special for those waiting so long for its arrival. This will be split into two parts. I currently have part one (the majority of the work) done. However, chapter two is strictly NSFW and I'm separating both parts in case that doesn't interest you. I should be done with part two by tonight, so keep an eye out for it.

Warnings: Overprotective brother Guillermo, horny Nandor (duh), and an innocent reader. Take that as you will. Blood and violence (also duh)

Word count: 11,000+

Requested by @binks1004

This will also be posted on AO3 by tonight!

I sigh softly as I finish putting the last touches on my homework. Another assignment done. I look at the clock that resides next to my desk. 12:30 in the morning: shit… I should have been out of the dorms ages ago. I promised Guillermo that I would go to sleep earlier tonight because I wanted to make my way over to his house in the morning. Well, it’s not like I haven’t gotten less sleep before and still survived. 

Suddenly, my phone rings, and I jump in surprise. I check the caller ID… Guillermo. Shit. I hesitantly pick up the phone after letting it ring a couple times.

“Hello?” My tentative voice rings out.

“You should be asleep.” Guillermo’s voice sounds disappointed but not surprised. I almost hear the eye roll in his voice.

“Why would you call me if you didn’t know I was asleep or not? Who knows, maybe you just woke me up.” There’s a hint of snarkiness in my voice. As Guillermo’s younger sister, I felt occasionally obligated to annoy him.

“You were last active on Instagram 15 minutes ago.” Guillermo’s ‘I gotcha’ voice is laid on thick.

“…Whoops?” He laughs on the other line.

“Whoops is right. You need to go to bed, Y/N.” I feel the exasperation start to rise within me.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I had homework to get done before winter break. Is that so wrong of me to want to spend my full time and attention with you when I’m there at your house?” I decide to guilt trip him. I hear Guillermo sigh before I hear heavy footsteps on the line.

“Guillermo? Who are you speaking to?” The voice is distant, but I can swear I hear the essence of a Middle Eastern accent. The phone is clearly covered by one of Guillermo’s sweaters, as I can’t hear much of the conversation after that. I think I pick up the words ‘master,’ ‘sister,’ and ‘visiting.’ By the time Guillermo uncovers the phone, he responds almost sheepishly.

“Sorry. My roommate.” I am hit with the remembrance that Guillermo has four other housemates that he lives with.

“Oh, right… who was that?” My curiosity is piqued now.

“Nandor.” Guillermo says curtly.

“Nandor.” I repeat, testing the name on my tongue. “Is he nice?” Guillermo sighs.

“Sometimes.” I laugh. 

“I’m sure we’ll get along just fine, then.” I try to assure him. 

“Sure. Y/N, please go to sleep before you end up driving over here like an exhausted zombie.” 

“Alright, alright. I’ll go to sleep, but don’t be shocked when you see I’m active on Instagram for the next 15 minutes: I have a routine, you know?” I hear Guillermo stifle a chuckle.

“Yeah, okay.”

“You know you love me.” I tease.

“Of course I do. That doesn’t mean you can’t be insufferable.” He teases back.

“That’s the fun of having a sibling, I think.” Guillermo doesn’t hide his laughter this time.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” I can hear the chiding in his voice.

“Goodnight, Guillermo.” I hang up the phone and make my way over to my bed. I’m a lot more tired than I previously thought, as I plug in my phone within five minutes of my nightly doom scroll routine. 

The drive over to Guillermo’s house is nothing special. It’s cold, with some snow falling, but nothing I can’t handle. As I made my way over the Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge, I feel myself getting a little nervous. What if Guillermo’s roommates don’t like me? What if I end up biting off more than I can chew with this trip? I mean, I’m staying for an entire month. Certainly his roommates would get annoyed with me after staying with them for so long. 

Before I can panic myself any longer, I realize that I’m already at his doorstep. I raise my hand to knock on the door, but Guillermo is already there. 

“Y/N.” He says fondly. I smile and let my hand drop.

“Hi, Guillermo.” We smile and hug and get all the niceties out of the way. 

“Did you end up sleeping well?”

“After scrolling on Instagram for approximately five minutes, yeah.”

“I noticed you weren’t active super long. I was hoping that meant you were asleep and not on that one website I don’t know about.”

“Character.AI?” I say with a laugh. He laughs too. 

“Yeah, that one. Who’s your current fictional character of choice?”

“I’m embarrassed to say…” I fidget with my hands for a moment. 

“Now you have to tell me.” 

“I most certainly do not.”

As I walk in the house, I am met with an ornately-decorated foyer. The chandelier hanging from the ceiling looks quite beautiful, and I can’t help but stare in awe.

“Like it?” Guillermo looks at me taking in the scenery. 

“Holy crap, you must spend a fortune living here.” He laughs at this response. 

“If only you knew…” I give him an odd look but decide to drop it. 

“Well, it’s 9:30 in the morning… What would you like to do?” I ask him with a pleasant smile.

“Did you eat breakfast?” I shake my head.

“Let’s do that first, that way you’ll be prepared for any activities I have set up for you today.” Guillermo says with a smile.

“Ooh, what kind of activities are we talking?”

“I’ll show you around Staten Island, and that’ll give me time to debrief you on each of my roommates.”

“Yeah, where are they? You’d think they’d be up by now.” Guillermo suddenly starts to fidget with his hands.

“They’re kind of nocturnal.” I look bewildered at this statement. “They work at the railroad, so they have weird hours.”

“But I thought… I thought you also worked at the railroad.” Guillermo looks stunned and a little frightened by my statement. “I-I do…” Guillermo looks down at his hands.

“Guillermo. I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re telling a lie. Did you get fired or something?” He perks up at my statement. 

“Fired, yup! I’m just trying to look for new work, so I’ve been keeping busy with the upkeep of this house. Please, don’t tell mom.” I nod in solidarity.

“Of course I won’t. Your secret’s safe with me.” Guillermo smiles and visibly relaxes. Suddenly, another figure walks in the room. He’s bald, wearing a vest, and carrying a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Who’s this?” I perk up as he makes his way out of the kitchen. Guillermo shoots him a warning look. For what reason, I can’t be too sure.

“That’s Colin Robinson.” Colin raises his cup as a friendly gesture.

“Hello… You must be Y/N. Guillermo told us you were coming. You’re in for a lot of fun.” I smile at Colin, as he seems friendly enough. 

“Yes! I’m Y/N, nice to meet you. I sure hope I don’t become a nuisance too quickly.” He smirks at my statement. 

“Oh, I don’t think that will be a problem.” Guillermo shoots Colin another warning glare and for a moment, I could swear that Colin’s eyes brightened. Guillermo quickly takes my hand and leads me out of the house. 

“We’ll be back later, Colin.” I look at Guillermo, confused.

“What about breakfast?” He tugs at my arm again. 

“I’ll buy you breakfast, okay?” Guillermo closes and locks the door behind him, rolling his eyes at the thought of Colin. 

“He seemed nice.” I try to give him a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, well ‘seeming’ isn’t everything. Colin Robinson is one of the most annoying creatures on this planet.” I laugh a little at this statement.

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind. Breakfast?” Guillermo smiles back at me.

“Breakfast.”

The two of us take Guillermo’s car throughout Staten Island. A diner, a mall, a work building, everything that sees me throughout the day sees a smile on my face. The minutes turned to hours and I suddenly feel the sisterly urge to connect with Guillermo. 

“I’ve missed seeing you.” I break the silence with my voice, knowing the words would ring true. Guillermo nearly trips in the shoe store we’re currently walking through.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Is his simple reply.

“I just don’t think you’d be able to understand the depth of my statement. I really fucked things up.” Guillermo stops this time, looking at me as I speak, as if seeing me for the first time in his life.

I don’t come from a functional family. I grew up Catholic, fatherless, and forced to grow up fast. The weight I bear is not something easily shaken. My mother loved me dearly, but was always worried about Guillermo. He was 7 years older than me. He didn’t have many friends growing up on account of his rather odd hobbies. By association, when I finally reached the age he was when he first started getting bullied, I was left friendless and alone. 

Life as an emotionally-mature person in an emotionally-immature body often led to grief beyond the imaginable. I knew as I grew up that there were things I would never experience. Teenage romance, of course, was the least-established of my facilities. The days boys would hit on me were over… Nobody wanted to be friends with the girl whose brother believed in vampires. What if it runs in the family? 

“I really messed up. I should have been reaching out more. College fucked me up and I think I was still holding a–” The words spill forth before I can even think. I only recently got in touch with Guillermo a few months back.

“You were never supposed to be taking care of me. I was supposed to be doing that for you. I should have listened to your feelings; spoken about your hurt.” Guillermo’s words nearly tear at my heart. There are moments like these with one’s family members that help one realize just how connected blood really makes us. Seconds turn to minutes turn to us sitting on the floor and crying together while a Shoe Carnival employee checks in on us. 

The day passes a lot more calmly than earlier. I’m not sure exactly how many times I am warned about each of his roommates. 

“It really sounds like you don’t enjoy living with them.” Guillermo grimaces at my words as if struck.

“I do enjoy living with them, but they are a particular bunch. I know you can be, too. I just don’t want anyone butting heads with you; they’d do that even if I were to specifically ask.” My face softens at my brother’s words. 

“It’s only one month. It’ll be alright.”

When we make our way back to Guillermo’s house, the lights are on and I can see shadow figures moving around inside, albeit with some paper in the way.

“Guillermo?” I ask quietly.

“Yes?” He follows my gaze before going silent.

“What’s the paper for?”

“They’re very private people. Who would I be to judge?” Guillermo nearly chokes on his answer.

“Do you think it was a good idea to invite me to spend my winter break with you?” I feel Guillermo’s warm hands clasp around my freezing left one.

“I would do anything to ensure your comfortability here. They’ll behave, I promise.” He shuts the car off and makes his way out of the vehicle, motioning for me to do the same. We make our way to the porch and Guillermo takes the jingling keys out of his pocket. As he opens the door, I peek into the foyer. Nothing. Nobody. 

“Where did they go?” My voice asks softly. Guillermo gives me a smile that could be perceived as tentative. 

“Probably the fancy room. The curtain is shut.” I immediately shrink into myself at his words. 

“They know I’m here. I should leave–” I begin frantically.

“No, Y/N, please stay. We can go and introduce you.”

“Memo, please. I know you’ve lived with them longer than since we lost contact with one another. I don’t want them to think to ask you why we stopped speaking.” There’s a rustling heard behind the curtain as it’s pulled aside. Standing on the other side of the curtain is a black-haired woman with green highlights. She is dressed in Victorian garb and looks superb. 

“I take it you are Y/N.” She says in her Greecian lilt. I give her a bright smile; years of acting makes switching from emotions a thing to do with ease.

“Yes, I am. Hi! Are you Nadja?” She smiles at me and I immediately take notice of her sharp canine teeth. Odd.

“The one and only. Come, come, you must meet the others since Gizmo won’t be introducing you himself.” Guillermo rolls his eyes and makes his way to the fancy room with a huff. Inside the room are two men. One sits on the couch with a pipe in his mouth, occasionally blowing out puffs of smoke. He shoots me a suave smile and I recognize his sharpened canines as well. I mentally take note of that as I look at him.

“My darling, who did you bring for us to meet?” His voice is strained and clearly fake. He knows exactly who I am. “This is Y/N, Gizmo’s beautiful sister who he never speaks of.” My face flushes a deep red and I feel Guillermo preen behind me. There is a throat clearing heard from the corner of the room. Out steps a figure that dwarfs the others. He is tall and imposing and every bit of the name I know him to have: Nandor. 

“Be nice to Guillermo, Nadja. You do not want to scare off his sister.” He steps closer and I feel his steps, both graceful and lumbering, get closer and closer. He is wearing a furred cape with some other cultural garb that does not seem from the United States in the slightest. He makes his way over to me with his broad chest leading the rest of his body. I almost pass out as I look up at him, feeling the air in my throat constrict. 

“Nandor.” He says in his baritone, holding a hand out for me. “Nandor the Relentless.” My mouth opens and closes like a fish before I spit out my own name.

“Relentless? Why’s that.” He doesn’t need to answer, as I’m sure I’d believe any answer he gives me. 

“Y/N. You have a very lovely name, as well as a lovely curiosity about you.” He replies. 

“Thank you, that’s quite kind of you.” I recognize now that I still haven’t taken his hand and I do, trying to shake it frantically before realizing how immovable he is. His steady hand lifts my hand to his lips as he keeps eye-contact with me. Normally, I’d explode from the attention, but I immediately clock his fangs.

“Is something wrong?” Guillermo’s voice chimes in and I realize I must have been staring. I blink a couple of times and come back to reality, noticing Nandor’s lips are still on my hand. Guillermo takes notice as well and swats at my arm. I pull it back in surprise and Nandor’s deep voice chuckles behind me. 

“Careful with this one. She’s fragile.” Nandor’s voice is both teasing and deadly serious, as if sending a warning to his roommates. Guillermo tugs my arm and leads me out of the room. I wave at Nandor and he gives me a smirk I can only describe as fond yet… hungry. After Guillermo drags me out of the room, I immediately round on him.

“You live with a bunch of cosplayers?” Guillermo shrinks from my anger. 

“They’re quite eccentric people when they’re not working at the railroad.”

“Speaking of, why the fuck are they here playing dress-up when they should be at work?”

“It’s a Saturday evening.” I deflate with Guillermo’s response. He’s right, of course.

“Okay. I’m off to bed.” Guillermo gives me an apologetic smile and as I turn away, I realize I have absolutely no idea where I’m going.

“Upstairs to the right.”

“Thank you.” I respond curtly before making my way up the stairs. When I make it to the top of the stairs and take the first right, I close the door behind me and take a deep breath. After my brain runs silent for a few moments, I decide to use the bathroom and brush my teeth. Of course, that meant exiting my bedroom, and I did not want to do that just yet. I wanted to take everything in. I look at my bed frame, an ornate metal one with a stained glass lamp on the nightstand next to it. Jesus, they took this whole cosplaying thing very seriously.

Guillermo’s POV

“Are you fucking kidding me? I asked you guys to do one thing: act normal! How hard is that? You were humans once, too!” Guillermo’s whisper shouting is quieted by Nandor, who places his hand on Guillermo’s shoulder.

“Laszlo, Nadja, leave us.” Nandor waves a dismissive hand at them.

“Fuck off.” Nadja’s voice is the first to pipe in. Laszlo is quick to recover as he stands and grabs his wife’s shoulders.

“Nadja, how about you and I go to our room and… discuss this new development in the house.” Both Guillermo and Nandor bristle at his statement for the very same reason. Laszlo drags Nadja out of the room before either of them could chide the married couple. When they finally leave, Nandor looks down at Guillermo.

“I would like to court her.” He says blatantly. Guillermo feels as if he had just been electrocuted. 

“Fuck no.” Guillermo is quick to recover from his immediate shock.

“Guillermo, she is a beautiful, unwed woman of childbearing age. Would you enjoy watching your sister turn into a spinster?” 

“Not any more than I’d enjoy watching her turn into your concubine.” Nandor looks as if he could snap his bodyguard’s neck. “You will not be courting my sister, and I’m so fucking serious. She’s a Van Helsing as well – she could kill you without a second thought.” Nandor perks up at this statement.

“I do enjoy a challenge.” Nandor’s voice is smug and steady. Guillermo storms out of the room, making his way to his room under the stairs. 

Y/N's POV

The house is cold and quiet. The fire in the living room does not create enough heat to reach where I am. Guillermo set up the room nicely, with a few extra blankets that will not go unused. I smile to myself as I make my way out of the room to head to the bathroom. Unfortunately, I smack into the chest of the person waiting outside my door. Nandor. He gives me a smirk, one of the fangs popping out of his lip.

“Hello, little Y/N.” I nearly shiver at his voice, but maintain my composure. 

“Hi Nandor. Sorry, I should have been paying more attention.” He gives me a friendly smile.

“You are quite alright. Do not feel bad. I was standing right outside your door, so I should be the one apologizing.” Nandor’s hands are clasped behind his back, making him look quite serious and almost otherworldly. 

“Yes. What were you doing outside my door anyway?” I look skeptical of him. 

“I wanted to apologize for causing any strife between your brother and you.” Now that was an answer I was not expecting. I swallow and try my best to not look phased. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Nandor chuckles at my words, a deep and smooth sound. 

“Guillermo clearly cares deeply for you. I wouldn’t want to make a bad first impression.” Nandor’s voice is genuine, without a hint of any of the confident bravado he carried earlier. 

“I know he cares for me. Sorry, I’m incredibly tired and have to get ready for bed.” I gently scoot him out of the way and make it to the bathroom without looking back. I lock the door behind me, standing before the mirror in front of me. It is a humbling sight: I look as though the exhaustion I’ve felt since I was 12 was surfacing all at once. Realizing my face was getting red with that discovery, I covered my face to cry. 

What I could not see beyond the door was a stunned Nandor, able to hear my soft cries. He did nothing, and yet here I am, angrier than ever. I stayed in the bathroom for a long while, knowing I could not go out and face him again.

Nandor’s POV

As he stares at the bathroom door, all he can feel is completely helpless about the situation. Had he said something wrong? What did he do? All he said was that your brother cared about you. Was that so wrong? Nandor awkwardly shuffles to his bedroom, closing the door to drown out your cries. He could hear them slow and eventually stop, listening to your feet shuffle back to the room across his. He wants to try again, to reach out and tap your door; to ask you what’s wrong. He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. He tries to ignore the feelings your emotions stirred within him as he listens to your breathing even out as you fall asleep.

Next Morning - Y/N’s POV

I wake up the next morning feeling completely out of it. As I opened my eyes, I felt all the emotions slam into me as they did last night. Fuck. Had I really gotten that emotional around Nandor? I knew that my emotions had gotten the better of me, and I wanted to apologize to him. He couldn’t have known that my and Guillermo’s relationship was a sore spot. Of course he wouldn’t have known that: Guillermo has always liked to keep his shame hidden. I sit up in my bed and groan, trying to catch my bearings. His door is right across from mine… Maybe I could sneak over and speak with him. 

Why I felt so drawn to Nandor, I couldn’t explain. Maybe it’s because he’s incredibly handsome, or maybe it’s due to the fact that he has no clue about me. A clean slate. That’s certainly what I felt I deserved at this moment.

I stand and make my way over to my door, opening it and running into someone for the second time in under 12 hours. I’m surprised to see that it’s Guillermo. 

“I’m so sorry,” are the first words that leave his mouth. I look at him skeptically. “Nandor told me you were upset last night. I should have known.” My face heats up in embarrassment. 

“It’s no big deal, really. I was just upset–”

“Stop. Please stop lying on my behalf. I’m your older brother, and I fucked up. I haven’t told you the whole truth.” That stops me dead in my tracks.

“What are you talking about?” Guillermo takes my hand and looks at me with an emotion on his face I can’t quite read. 

“I know I’ve been obsessed with vampires since I was a kid, and I hoped above hope that they were real. So real that I went looking to find them. I found a job application when I was 19 that seemed suspicious enough, so I showed up here: to this house,” I shake my head in confusion as Guillermo continues. “I was met by Nandor at the front door, who took me in for an interview. The job detailed the upkeep of the house and what being a servant–a familiar would be like.”

“A familiar? What the hell are you talking about?” Guillermo takes my hand and continues.

“I haven’t been working at the railroad for all of these years… I’ve been working for Nandor, Nadja, Laszlo, and Colin Robinson. I’m a familiar. They’re vampires.” My face turns blank for the first few seconds after he said the words I desperately did not want to hear. 

“Are you serious?” I can see Guillermo’s face fall. “After all these years, you still don’t care about how your actions affect other people. Do you know what it was like? Taking care of mom when all she wanted to do was see her son. Getting bullied at school for being your sister?” I wrench my hand from Guillermo’s grasp. “I get that us getting back on speaking terms is new and exciting because I’ve missed you, but don’t fuck with me about this,” Guillermo quickly grabs my hand again and drags me to Nandor’s room.

“I can prove it. Look,” Guillermo opens the door to Nandor’s room and there, laying in the middle of the room, is a large coffin made from some of the finest wood I’d ever seen. 

“What the actual hell,” my voice is quiet but certainly not calm. “What is this?”

“This is where Nandor sleeps. He sleeps during the day because he’s a vampire, not because he works night shifts. If he touches the sunlight, it hurts him. And if he steps fully into the sun, it will kill him. That’s why the windows are boarded up; that’s why this house looks so haunted: because it is. It’s haunted by the vampires who have lived in it for over 100 years,” I cover my face again and pull my hand from Guillermo’s grasp. 

“You’ve actually been galavanting around with vampires for over a decade?” I am dangerously calm. 

“I don’t know if ‘galavanting’ is the right word, but–”

“Well, what would you call it? Leaving your family behind to live with vampires. Some fantastical fucking dream you got to have,” I turn away from Nandor’s coffin, feeling scorned. 

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I can’t take back those years that I left you and mamá, but I want to make up for it.”

“You left us! For years, you left us! And what am I supposed to do? Be fine that you were gone for so long, only to be living your dream,” I sit against the wall, sliding to the floor. “While I was stuck taking care of mamá, who wanted nothing more than to have her son back. Do you know what that’s like?” Guillermo takes a step closer to me, slowly sitting next to me. 

“No. I don’t. But I want to. It’s not fair that I was gone, but I want to have you back in my life–”

“Did you tell mamá?” Guillermo looks ashamed and it’s all the answer I need. “Why would you ever trust me with this secret?” 

“Because I can’t try to satisfy you with lies. I’ve done that for long enough,” Guillermo looks at me with such sincerity it almost hurts. I sigh, feeling a headache coming on.

“Is there anything else I should know?” I look at him from between my fingers.

“...We are descendants of the Van Helsing family,” I immediately groan and put my head back in my hands. 

“What does that entail?” Guillermo takes a breath as he prepares to explain.

“It means that you’re probably unnaturally good at spotting vampires. I noticed you noticing their teeth last night,” I look up at Guillermo again.

“You did?” Guillermo laughs at my question. 

“Maybe it’s why I was so good and seeking vampires out in the first place,” a small smile appears on my face at his statement. 

“Guillermo De La Cruz: always alone, traversing between two worlds,” I give him a smile as I take my hands off my face.

“Not alone anymore,” he replies with an openness I had not yet seen from him. 

“Not anymore, no,” Guillermo wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to him.

“Yes, yes, that’s nice. Now Guillermo, please flee from my room with your sister so I may slumber,” comes a voice from the coffin. I almost forgot we were in Nandor’s room. I laugh at his words. 

“Shit, sorry Nandor,” Guillermo says as he stands, pulling me to my feet. 

“Yeah, we’ll go,” I say as I start to leave the room. Guillermo closes the door behind him and looks at me a moment before we both start laughing. 

“Whoops,” Guillermo says first. 

“I guess I didn’t think vampires could be light sleepers,” I reply. 

“They most certainly can. Breakfast?” Guillermo asks. 

“Yeah, just give me a few minutes to do my morning routine. I need to brush the heart-to-heart out of my teeth,” Guillermo laughs and makes his way down the stairs. 

“See you in a few!”

After taking the time to do my morning routine, I make my way down the staircase to the kitchen. Before I can get there, I’m intercepted by Colin Robinson, who is, once again, holding a cup of coffee and wearing another vest. I shuffle nervously on my feet, now come to the realization that I am surrounded by vampires.

“What makes you so different?” I blurt before I can stop myself. Colin looks bewildered. “Good morning to you, too,” he mutters. 

“I’m sorry. Good morning. What I meant was, if you’re a vampire like everyone else, why can you be awake in the daytime?” Colin takes a sip of his coffee. 

“Your first assumption was incorrect: I am not like everyone else. I’m an energy vampire: a daywalker,” I nod at his explanation, though I’m still confused. “I feed off of people’s negative energy. Energy vampires are the most common of vampires, and I’m sure you’ve met some before meeting me.”

“Are you draining me right now?” I ask cautiously. Colin seems to find this amusing.

“No, no. I do it when you least expect it.” His words hang in the air for a moment before Guillermo peaks out of the kitchen. 

“Leave her alone, Colin,” Colin’s eyes glow blue at Guillermo’s words. So his eyes were glowing yesterday. 

“Go and enjoy breakfast. I sure have enjoyed mine,” Colin smirks before walking away. I make my way to the kitchen and prepare for the rest of the day. 

The rest of the day is rather mundane. Guillermo told me I should start getting used to taking naps in the daytime if I wanted to spend time with the vampires. When asking him if he was going to take a nap, he merely laughed. 

“The job of a vampire’s bodyguard is never-ending,” he responded.

“I thought you were a familiar,” I eye him.

“I was, until the vampires got attacked by other vampires,” Guillermo responds as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. I guess, for him, it has been his normal.

“Should I be worried?”

“Not with that Van Helsing blood in you,” Guillermo nudged me. “Now get some rest.” So I did. The day was spent in a mostly-dreamless slumber as I tried to preserve my energy for the nighttime. Being a college student, changing my sleep schedule was certainly not hard. I woke up to my alarm and checked the time, seven o’clock. I rub my eyes and sit up, seeing the sun had already set below the sky. Being wintertime, it gets dark a lot earlier than I’d like. Maybe vampires enjoyed the winter more for that same reason. 

While pondering existential questions about vampirism, I peek out my door to make sure I won’t run into anyone else. As I look across the hallway, I see Nandor’s door is already open. I make my way over to his room, trying to be as quiet as possible, as if sneaking into somewhere I shouldn’t be.

I look inside his door and see his coffin opened. As I survey the rest of the room, I do not find him anywhere. 

“It is rude to try and sneak up on a vampire such as myself,” I jump in surprise and turn around. Nandor stares at me, a smirk playing at his lips. 

“I wasn’t–I didn’t–” He chuckles in that same deep baritone. 

“You’re not too sneaky for a Van Helsing,” I stand a little taller and cross my arms.

“Van Helsing or not, I’m still a De La Cruz,” Nandor raises an eyebrow at me. 

“I can see the resemblance between your brother and you. Come, would you like to sit?” Nandor gestures to a couple of chairs in his room. “The others are probably out hunting for the night,” I feel my blood go cold at his words. Nandor chuckles again before speaking, “Don’t worry – I ate yesterday in preparation for your arrival,” I feel his eyes on me as I sit in the chair. He moves to sit next to me. 

“Do you… kill people?”

“Yes,” his response is quick and almost cold.

“Do you enjoy it?” Nandor sighs.

“Only sometimes. Those are boring questions. I hear them too often. Let’s talk about something more interesting,” Nandor feigns a yawn which elicits a smile from me. 

“How old are you?” Nandor peers down at me from the corner of his eye, smiling. 

“I am over seven hundred years old. How old are you?” I suddenly feel much more shy and self-conscious. “Oh, come now, don’t tell me you don’t want to answer any of my questions.”

“I’m 23,” I respond quickly, as if challenging his words. 

“But a sprout amongst the trees,” Nandor’s words flow from him. “Y/N, I like your name.”

“Thank you… It’s a family name. Where does ‘Nandor’ originate?” Nandor smiles proudly. 

“From Hungary. It’s a version of ‘Ferdinand,’” Nandor says the name with a hint of distaste. 

“You’re Hungarian?” Nandor immediately shakes his head.

“No. I’m from Al Quolnidar. It used to be part of the Ottoman Empire, but now would be southern Iran.”

“I feel like I’m getting a history lesson,” I say with a laugh.

“Do you enjoy learning?” Nandor asks, blinking slowly at me. I pause for a moment, wondering how to respond.

“Yes, I think I do,” Nandor’s chest seems to puff up proudly, like a bird showing off his feathers. 

“Then I shall give you history lessons whenever you please.”

And he does. Days pass in the house and I always await Nandor’s rising in the night. I spend some of my time getting to know everyone in the house, but Nandor, of course, steals my attention most of the time. We spend long evenings and nights getting to know one another. Yet, it feels as though my life is not as exciting as his. No matter how many times I state this fear, Nandor is quick to respond.

“Just because I’m ancient doesn’t mean I’m more interesting.” We agree to disagree on this front. During the nights we are not speaking to one another, Guillermo catches us stealing glances at one another in the kitchen or the library. He, of course, knows we both have feelings for one another, but tries to inform me of how stupid and dangerous that is. I hush him up every time, telling him to let me have my fun, as there’s no possible way Nandor feels the same way about me. Guillermo shuts up every time, going back to whatever he’s doing. During one of our nightly talks, Nandor begins to open up a bit more about his love life.

“I had 37 husbands and wives,” I nearly spit out my drink at the number. 

“Shit, I realize this is probably insensitive, but how did you keep up with all of them?” Nandor laughs and waves off my question.

“I loved 35 of them, so it was relatively easy. The other two were political marriages: women meant to bear my children to carry on my name,” I try not to blush at the thought. 

“That must have been nice–having so many partners to spend time with,” I try to spin the situation.

“Oh no, I spent most of my time with my concubines when I was on the battlefield,” I, once again, try not to choke on my drink. 

“Did you ever think it was enough?” The words fall from my lips before I can reign them in. Nandor looks at me, surprised by my question.

“No… I suppose I didn’t,” I frown at his response.

“Do you ever think about settling down?” The dam has opened. 

“I’m a vampire. All I ever think about is settling down for eternity. I lived enough lives by being a conqueror as a human,” Nandor looks at his glass, half-empty with AB+ blood.

“Seven hundred years is a long time to be alive. I feel like I’ve lived through enough as a 23-year-old,” Nandor gives me a look.

“You’re still young,” he says as a matter-of-fact statement. “Let the world open up to you.”

“I think I have had enough of the world opening up to me,” I begin to swirl the wine in my glass. 

“What do you mean?” Nandor’s curiosity is piqued.

“Helping out a single mom since you were 12 is not exactly a job for sheltered individuals,” I say with a sigh. “My mom needed someone to help out around the house after Guillermo left. I was that someone. It wasn’t all that bad, but it was hard.”

Nandor is suddenly hit with the crushing realization that he inadvertently did this to you. He took away Guillermo, he made it nearly impossible for Guillermo to reach out and speak to his family. Nandor takes a sip from his glass. If his face could blush, it would certainly be burning from his shame right now. 

“I’m sorry,” is his only reply. I give him a smile, one that he recognizes as a friendly but tired look.

“Don’t be. It shaped me into who I am. I like me,” I say simply.

“I hope you don’t mind if I were to ask you about your father?” Nandor immediately wishes he could take back his words once he watches my face fall. 

“I don’t remember much. He was a piece of crap who bullied our mother for a living. When he finally decided to get lost, I couldn’t help but feel abandoned. My mom loved me as best as she could, but that doesn’t mean it was what I needed,” I say before taking another sip of my wine. “Blood is thick, though. I am forever appreciative that I got this opportunity to reunite with Guillermo, even if that means having my worldview shattered,” I say with a laugh. 

“How do you do it?” Nandor asks as he studies my face.

“How do I do what?”

“How do you speak about such things with a smile on your face? You should be crying.”

“I weep when I’m alone,” I tell him as I look into my glass again. “It’s not very becoming of me to cry in front of people I don’t know that well, now is it?” Nandor also looks into his glass before looking back up at me.

“I would like to know you,” Nandor says those words simply, as if it wasn’t a declaration.

“I don’t think you would. I’m broken–” I start.

“I don’t know why you’ve convinced yourself you’re not worth knowing. You’re allowed to be angry with me, you know? I took your brother away for years, causing you to have to raise yourself. I would understand completely if you chose to hate me,” Nandor’s words spill forth like a waterfall. 

“I don’t hate you,” my face is burning.

“Why?” Nandor’s question is exasperated. 

“I’m not sure, but I don’t. You’ve given me every chance in the world to speak freely, but I don’t feel like hating you. It does not change the past, nor does it heal the future. I think just being in your presence now is a comfort. One I should not take for granted,” Nandor is stunned into silence. 

“Can I kiss you?” I am stunned by this question. I stand abruptly before getting ready to leave. 

“I should get going,” I close the door before he has the chance to respond.

Nandor’s POV

By the end of the night, Nandor’s room looks as if a tornado blew through it. Once he heard you leave the house, he began to destroy everything within it. He threw his glass of blood at the wall, watching it shatter with a cruel satisfaction. Of course you would not reciprocate. You’re too full of life, too wonderful, too good for him. Nandor roars in anger at each of these thoughts, destroying some of the furniture in his room. All that remains untouched are his coffin and the paintings of himself on the wall: all a cruel reminder of the warlord he was. The violent, cruel, evil dictator who took lives without care. Of course you felt the need to run away for the night. He made you uncomfortable, and he couldn’t blame you for feeling that way.

At some point in the night, there is a knock at his door. Nandor rounds on Guillermo, hissing as he stares at his bodyguard. 

“Leave me,” Nandor’s words are cold and angry. But Guillermo does not leave.

“What happened?” His question brings forth a thousand more thoughts in Nandor’s head, who clutches it as if it is going to explode.

“She left. I scared her away,” Nandor’s voice cracks from emotion, and he curses himself for it, finding a book on his nightstand and ripping it apart.

“What? How?” Nandor storms over to Guillermo, towering above him intimidatingly. 

“Leave. Me.”

“This is my sister we’re talking about. My sister, who is alone in the streets of Staten Island because of you. Now, tell me what happened,” Guillermo’s temper almost matches Nandor’s. Nandor lets out a frustrated huff before explaining what happened. 

“She was never angry with me. Never angry at me, the monster who kept her brother away from her for 14 years. She held no bitterness towards me about it,” Nandor turns around to hide his shame. “None, until of course, when I ruined it by asking to kiss her,” Guillermo falls silent with these words. 

“We have to go find her. She couldn’t have gotten far–” Guillermo begins, trying to ignore the feelings stirring within him.

“We don’t have to do anything. You will go and find her. I have done enough for tonight,” Nandor hisses, throwing a glare at Guillermo over his shoulder. There’s a pause between them before Guillermo glares back at Nandor. 

“Fine. Next time, stay away from my sister,” the door slams behind him and Nandor jumps, quickly returning to destroying his room. 

Guillermo’s POV

She couldn’t have gotten far. That’s the only thing he can think as he goes out to look for you. You couldn’t have gone too far. Guillermo, met with constant lefts and rights, decides to follow a path he had taken you on during one of your many daily adventures through Staten Island. Left, left, right, straight for a few miles… You couldn’t have gone far. He tries to think of all the possible places you could have gone. 

You took your car, of course. You left in your car to do whatever you wanted, and he had no chance to stop it. Suddenly, he remembers the pang of disappointment he felt in his stomach when you said you enjoyed going to bars. He took you to a bar a couple days ago. It had food, greasy food, but it also had drinks. That’s probably where you went. He tries to stuff down the thought of you drunk driving. You wouldn’t. 

Guillermo feels an immense sense of relief when he sees your car outside the bar. He opens the doors, a sense of peace washing over him. That is, until he realizes you aren’t there. Guillermo’s panic rises within him again as he looks around. He asks the bartender if he saw you – he hadn’t. You were sending him on a wild goose chase. Guillermo clutches his head in frustration, trying to think of where else you could be. That is, of course, until he hears you scream.

Y/N’s POV

I wanted to go to the bar for the shitty food. I knew it would make me feel much better after running away from Nandor. I had been mentally kicking myself the entire night over Nandor’s question. Why did I leave? I cover my face as I sit at the front sidewalk of the bar.

Commitment issues. It was always commitment issues. I felt so embarrassed for leaving Nandor hanging, but I was terrified when he asked to kiss me. I wanted to, of course, but I had never… I mean, what would come next? Marriage? Sex? The last thought sends a shiver through me. He’s a vampire. I’m just a blip in his long existence: an impermanent thing. I cover my face and groan to get myself free of those thoughts. Standing up to go into the bar, I reach the front door before I feel my arm grabbed by some stranger, dragging me away with a hand over my mouth.

I’m dragged into an alley, a knife pressed against my back. Yeah, this would happen to me.

“Don’t scream,” the voice is scarily calm. “I’m just robbing you. This will go as easily as you want it to,” he speaks the words as if they’re molasses stuck in his teeth. As he removes his hand from my mouth, I take a deep breath. 

“I don’t have a lot of money on me,” I responded brokenly. 

“Well, it seems we have a problem, don’t we?”

“Please. Let me go. I’ll give you the keys to my car,” I am pleading now.

“You think I want some busted car from a college student?” The knife begins to dig into my skin. I gasp and the man shushes me before whispering in my ear.

“I told you this would go as easily as you wanted it to. It seems you don’t care too much,” I shake my head and try to reason with him. 

“Please, I won’t tell anyone about this. I’ll go quietly. I’ll give you everything I have, it’s just not much,” the man removes the knife from my back and brings it to my cheek. He slowly drags it down the side of my face, certainly drawing blood. I cry out, beginning to scream for help. After a brief moment, I feel the weight lifted from behind me as the man is dragged off of me. 

“Don’t touch her,” I hear a familiar voice hiss behind me. I scoot away from Nandor and the man he is now holding off the ground. His eyes are a deep red; red as blood. With that thought, I raise a hand to my cheek, feeling the warm liquid running down my face. I catch Nandor watching me touch the blood on my cheek. He hisses at the man, and it’s a deep and menacing sound. “Look away,” his voice is deep and commanding. 

I tuck my head and cover my face. The moment I do, I hear a disgusting squelching sound, followed by a gasp from the man. I’m sure he would have screamed if he could, but I would guess Nandor went for the throat.

“Y/N, we have to go,” I uncover my face to find Guillermo staring at me, frantically trying to pull me to my feet. In a split-second decision, I turn to look at Nandor, who is crouched on the ground like a predator, face deep into the man’s skin. His eyes are on mine the moment I look upon him, and I can feel his relief as he looks at me. Guillermo drags me out of the alley, holding my hand the entire way. 

“Stop looking!” Guillermo commands as he pulls me out of Nandor’s view.

“He’s not going to hurt me–” 

“You’re bleeding,” Guillermo interrupts me. “I don’t want to tempt an apex predator, thank you very much.” He opens the passenger door and helps me sit down before going to the driver’s side. Guillermo speeds off in his car, headed back in the direction of the house. When I looked behind the car, all I could see was Nandor standing in the middle of the road, blood covering his face.

We got back home after driving for a few minutes in silence. When Guillermo parks the car, he looks over at me.

“Are you okay?” I cover my face and look away.

“Yes,” I responded curtly.

“No you’re not,” Guillermo puts a hand on my shoulder to comfort me, rubbing it softly. “It’s okay to not feel okay after something like that. I remember the first time I saw a human die at the hands of vampires. It’s scary. You shouldn’t have had to see that,” he speaks so gently.

“I’m okay, really. I mean, yes it was scary… I guess I’m just glad Nandor got there in time.” Guillermo nods.

“Me too. You can thank him when he’s not all bloodlusted,” Guillermo almost reads my mind. 

“I’ll just clean up and it’ll be alright–” I begin.

“No. He’s already got the scent of your blood. He’s going to be touchy for the rest of the night. We need to get you patched up and to bed,” Guillermo cuts me off. “That is a talk that can happen another day.” I finally relent, nodding in agreement.

“Okay… Can I go get cleaned up now?” Guillermo turns the car off and walks beside me the entire way, keeping an eye out for Nandor. “I’ll be fine, you know?” He scoffs at my words.

“You’re as stubborn as him – I’ll give you that,” he mutters under his breath. When we make it in the house, Guillermo helps clean me up. Luckily, the other vampires were nowhere to be seen, though Guillermo was sure they could smell my blood. “I’m going to put a cross on your door tonight. Give you a couple stakes…” 

“Would that really be necessary?” Guillermo shoots me a look. 

“I’m not taking any risks. He’s dangerous and I will not have my sister getting bitten by a vampire,” he continued to dab a washcloth on the wound on my cheek. 

“It’s going to be a huge, ugly scar, isn’t it?” There’s a hint of despair in my voice. Guillermo sighs.

“I don’t know… Probably… But not ugly! Let’s… not worry about that right now,” he tries to filter his words, but it’s really no use. He begins to use alcohol prep pads on my skin, causing me to hiss through my teeth. 

“Ow, that really hurts,” Guillermo’s face turns sympathetic.

“You’re very strong. I don’t think it needs stitches: it wasn’t that deep. Can I put gauze on your cheek?” I nod.

“Here we go. It’ll be okay. You will be staying in your room tonight,” Guillermo’s words leave no room for argument. I groan at him, rolling my eyes.

“Fine,” Guillermo nods as he finishes disinfecting my face and putting gauze over it. 

“You’ll bounce back quickly. Something tells me you always do,” he gives me a wink and helps me stand before pushing me into my room. Guillermo places a stake on my bedside table, then goes to hang a cross on the front of the door. 

“Is all of this really necessary?” My question is exasperated. Guillermo shoots me a glare. 

“Is keeping you safe from a deadly vampire necessary? Oh geez, let’s think about that,” I roll my eyes again at his words. 

“Okay, thank you. Good night, Guillermo,” I sigh and place the hand over my gauze. Guillermo’s eyes soften and he makes his way to sit on my bed next to me. 

“You’ll be okay, I promise. I just want to be careful, you know?” I nod along to Guillermo’s words. 

“Thanks. I know you’re just looking out for me. I appreciate it,” I say to him sincerely. 

“Just rest. The morning will be here before you know it,” he leans over and gives me a tight hug. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too… Good night,” I say to him. Guillermo smiles and makes his way to my door, closing it behind him. 

I wish I could say that I tried falling asleep, but I did not. I stayed awake for what felt like hours, tossing and turning in my bed. All I could think about was Nandor standing in the middle of the road, watching me drive away with Guillermo. There’s a level of guilt that falls on my shoulders as I think about that look he gave me. I hold my cheek, beginning to cry softly at the thought of my face being marred for the rest of my life. 

After crying for a long enough time to feel dehydrated afterwards, I hear the loud flapping of wings and a squeak outside my door. There’s a poof sound, followed shortly by a hissing as Nandor approaches my door. 

“Fucking guy,” Nandor hissed at the cross on my door. I stand, tiptoeing over to the door before cracking it open. Before me was Nandor, cleaned up and in the same outfit I saw him in earlier. His face immediately softened once he saw me. “Y/N… Are you okay?” He reaches a hand out and I flinch, a little afraid from what I saw earlier. 

“I’m alright, I promise. You… shouldn’t be here,” Nandor scoffs at my words.

“What did your brother tell you?” He spits the words. 

“He said you would be… touchy. I don’t want to irritate you,” I whisper, trying to make sure Guillermo wouldn’t hear us. Nandor’s face widens into a smirk.

“Oh no, my dear, wrong touchy,” I blush in surprise and he takes this as an opportunity to push past me, closing the door swiftly behind him as he carries me towards my bed. 

“Nandor! Please,” I protest as he lays me down on my bed, quickly following to curl up behind me.

“Please what, darling? Use your words,” he nuzzles against my face, nose rubbing against the gauze on my cheek. 

“I don’t– I can’t…” The words are lost on my lips and Nandor shushes me. 

“I know, darling. I can smell it on you,” he nuzzles against my cheek again, pressing a kiss to the gauze on my face. “A virgin, are we? I smelled it in your blood,” Nandor whispers as he puts an arm around me. I blush deeply in surprise that he was able to guess so easily. 

“I grew up very Catholic,” are the only words that leave my mouth. Nandor chuckles darkly.

“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter why, it matters that you are,” he kisses my cheek again. I shake my head again, trying in futility to deny.

“I ran away after you asked to kiss me,” Nandor stops suddenly, his grip loosening. 

“I will leave you if you wish it,” he continues to pull away. 

“No! I mean… you don’t have to,” I try to cover the desperation in my voice. Nandor chuckles again and leans in against me.

“You smell amazing,” Nandor continues to nuzzle against my cheek. 

“I shouldn’t have run away. I’m sorry,” I feel the remorse surge within me.

“Don’t be. I got a free meal of it,” he teases gently before nosing against the pulse point on my neck. 

“But I am sorry. I shouldn’t have left you. I should have told you that I’m afraid to get close to people, that it was never your fault–” Nandor nips my neck gently, causing the words to die in my throat.

“Hush, Y/N. Stop apologizing. I don’t want you wasting your breath on something I already understand,” he leans down and kisses my head. I flip to my other side, facing Nandor and getting a good look at him for the first time since the attack. His eyes are still a faint red, pupils blown wide with some primal feeling deep within him. I reach a hand up and push a strand of his hair behind his ear. I hear a low groan rise from his throat.

“What does it feel like?” I ask suddenly. Nandor pulls away to look at me.

“What does what feel like?”

“Drinking blood. Is it… I don’t know… enjoyable?” Nandor smirks as he looks at me. 

“I wouldn’t be able to explain it. Drinking blood is like nothing I ever did when I was a human. It feels so powerful, like something out of a movie,” Nandor gets lost in thought, staring out of the paper-covered window.

“What does it feel like for a human?” Nandor looks at me a moment, before answering.

“When I was turned, it was not a pleasant experience. I’m assuming that was due to the violence of the one turning me, but I’ve heard some humans find it to be a pleasant experience. Why?” Nandor asks the question he already knows the answer to.

“I… would you drink from me?” I look up at him shyly. Nandor’s breath hitches as he looks at me. 

“You would want that?” I nod, the words dying in my chest.

“Would you remember me?” Nandor looks perplexed by the question.

“I would know you through the rain and the snow, through every storm that appears in the night. Just because your blood calls to me doesn’t mean I will answer in violence,” Nandor leans down and presses a kiss to my undamaged cheek. 

“You make it sound so easy,” I whisper to him.

“For some, it really is.”

“Is it for you?” Nandor hesitates.

“No, but I will not forget you,” I lean forward and hug Nandor against me. 

“You saved my life once. I owe you, at the very least,” Nandor leans forward and captures my lips in a kiss. It is a deep and passionate kiss that conveys the days of yearning between us. I could imagine myself getting lost in that kind of yearning forever. The kind of yearning that leaves one seeking answers from the beginning of the first interaction. 

Nandor’s tongue presses against my lips, licking off any balm I put on there a few hours before. I open my mouth to him, breath getting stolen as he takes a greedy gulp of my air. 

“The second you view this as a transactionary agreement,” he starts as he pulls away from my lips, “you’ll forget how much I want to get to know you. I don’t want you to forget that,” he says as he presses a kiss to my nose. He pushes my head to the side gently, sniffing my pulse point and taking a moment to just sit there. 

“You’re so sweet,” I whisper to him.

“Sweet. That’s not a word that’s been used to address me before,” He laughs and presses a kiss to my neck. I giggle softly as he continues to press kisses to my neck. “I like those noises. You sound happy. I only want to hear you happy,” Nandor mutters against my neck.

“I hope that not always being happy is not a let-down,” Nandor chuckles again, nipping my neck softly. 

“Don’t speak as if you’re some consolation prize. I don’t care. I like you,” he mumbles against my skin. 

“Are you going to bite me now?” I ask, trying to deflect some of the attention he was putting towards me. Nandor nuzzles against my neck again, dragging his teeth along my neck. 

“The second you say it back, I will. I like you,” Nandor says, pulling away to look me in my eyes. I blush deeply, trying to maintain eye-contact with him.

“I like you, too,” I say as Nandor leans down and captures my lips in another kiss.

“That’s more like it,” he says, bending down and pressing a kiss to my jaw. He leans down and kisses against my neck, growling against my skin. “So warm, so soft, so sweet,” he sinks his fangs into my skin. It feels like a short needle prick and I jump a little in surprise. As I jump, Nandor’s hold on me tightens to keep me in place. I whimper a little as I feel him begin to take pulls of my blood. 

“That… feels really nice,” I mutter to myself, feeling as if I had entered a trance. Nandor groans as he continues to drink deeply from my neck. The sounds are lewd and wanton as my body curls into him. It feels as though a thousand hands are holding me against him, making me feel safe and protected in his arms.

He takes a couple more pulls of my blood before pulling away, licking the puncture wounds on my neck. He kisses the marks gently, groaning from deep in the back of his throat. 

“You taste divine,” he breathes the words as if they are keeping him alive. 

“That felt really nice,” I mutter, still in a daze. Nandor chuckles and holds my face in his hand.

“I’m sure it did. I made sure to be gentle with you,” he says as he kisses the spot where he bit again. There are moments like these that help one realize just how connected blood really makes us. It feels as if we are bonded in some way, and I can tell Nandor is feeling it, too. “I’m sure you can feel how intense things are right now. Just take a deep breath, okay?” He holds eye-contact with me and takes a deep breath, trying to get me to follow suit. When I do, he smiles and kisses my cheek. “Good girl,” he whispers. My eyebrows knit together with his nickname.

“Oh, you liked that, did you, darling?” He kisses my lips quickly before saying, “my good girl,” once again.

4am - Nandor’s POV

Nandor woke up with you in his arms, feeling the weight and security you offered him. However, after a moment of peace, he feels something pressed against his back. 

“Get up,” Guillermo’s voice is a deep warning. 

“Guillermo–” Nandor tries to speak.

“Get up. I will not ask again,” he hisses again, holding the stake against Nandor’s back. Nandor looks over as you begin to stir. 

“You wouldn’t want to wake her up, would you?” Nandor’s voice is a deep purr. 

“Did you bite her?” Guillermo already knows the answer.

“Only because she asked,” Nandor nearly taunts Guillermo, who grabs Nandor and pulls him out of the bed. 

“I told you to leave my sister alone,” Guillermo growls at Nandor, who holds his hands up in defense. 

“She invited me in,” Guillermo frowns at Nandor’s words. When you stir, they both look over in surprise.

“Did anyone think about asking me what I wanted?” You stare at the two of them, glaring at Guillermo. “Yes, I invited him in. Yes, I realize that may sound dumb to you. No, I do not regret it,” Guillermo bristles at your words.

“I’m just making sure you’re safe,” his voice is a strangled mix of frustrated and calm. 

“Unhand Nandor, dude,” you say to your brother, who begrudgingly lets him go. Guillermo storms out of the room, causing you to want to go after him. 

“Don’t. He needs a minute alone,” Nandor starts.

“You don’t know what he needs. I need to apologize to him.” You get up and make your way out of the room, heading down the stairs to find Guillermo fuming in the kitchen. 

Guillermo’s POV

“I’m sorry,” are all the words you can muster. He hears you from behind him and he turns around, glaring.

“I told you to leave it alone for the night, and what did you do? Not that. Certainly not what your brother asks you to do,” you frown.

“It’s fine, he was fine! Nothing happened,” at your words, Guillermo’s eyes flicker to the puncture wounds on your neck. She flushes in embarrassment and quickly covers up the marks. “Nothing beyond that.”

“I don’t care what happened between the two of you, I want Nandor to be good to my sister. I don’t want him to lose interest the second you lose your novelty to him.”

“I don’t think I’m some novelty to him. I think he likes me–” Guillermo holds a hand up to quiet his sister. 

“I need to speak with Nandor,” he says with a biting edge to his tone. 

“Not with that stake, you don’t,” Y/N says with a glare thrown his way. Guillermo huffs, standing up from the table and walking out of the kitchen without his stake. As he stomps his way up the stairs, he sees Nandor peer from out of his room. 

“You, me, talk. Now,” Nandor opens the door for him, allowing him entry. 

“Guillermo!” Nandor says with a friendly lilt in his voice, trying to appeal to Guillermo’s normally good-natured attitude. “What is cracking, friend? How has your day been going?” Guillermo looks at Nandor’s room, still in complete disarray from the night before. He turns at Nandor and looks up at him. 

“When you said you wanted to court my sister, I could have killed you. When I saw you holding my sister this morning, I almost killed you,” Nandor shrinks from Guillermo’s words. But, he sighs. “Be good to her. That’s not a lot to ask for, is it?” Nandor immediately shakes his head. 

“I will be the best to her. Only the best she deserves,” Guillermo nods, thinking over Nandor’s words. He huffs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“If you so much as break her heart, I’ll put a stake through yours,” Guillermo threatens. Nandor crosses his fingers over his heart.

“Scout’s honor,” he bares his teeth in a little smile at his bodyguard. Nandor nearly jumps for joy as he makes his way out of the room to find you. When he sees you at the bottom of the stairs, Nandor grabs you around your waist and spins you around, kissing your bandaged cheek again. 

Y/N's POV

“Well, that went well…” I say with a laugh as Nandor brings me closer to kiss my cheek. 

“It did. Better than I could have ever imagined, my morning star,” I blush at his nickname, which elicits a satisfied noise from Nandor. “You like my little nicknames?” Nandor leans in and kisses my lips once again with a surprising amount of gentle energy. He dips me once my feet touch the floor, breaking apart only to look at me with the same reverence as yesterday. 

“Yes, I could get used to the nicknames,” Nandor smiles brightly, his fangs bared. 

“Anything for you, little one,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss me again.

[luvsferrariss]

˚⟡˖ ࣪. ʚ 💌 ɞ who said that I hate you? - OO1

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Synopsis: S/n, the rookie in Formula 1, challenges sexism in the sport, facing criticism, intense rivalries, and false accusations. Amid fierce disputes with Charles Leclerc and unexpected support, she fights to prove her talent.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Charles Leclerc x Female Reader! Red Bull Driver

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ warnings: Heavy sexism, fake news (??), Charles being a complete jerk, and angst. Let me know if I forgot anything.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ Author’s Notes: This was supposed to be a short story, but I got carried away and had to split it into two parts. If you guys like it, I’ll post part two tomorrow! English is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes, sorry 🤍

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ part two here! ✨

Formula 1 has always been a male-dominated sport, but who said that would stop rookie S/n from claiming her place? No, giving up was never on her list of options.

You’ve spent your whole life hearing that you would never make it into Formula 1, that you could never compete on equal footing with a man. But when you finally signed a contract with one of the top teams on the grid, you realized the biggest challenge wasn’t on the track—it was the people who wanted to see you fail.

Among those people was Charles Leclerc, one of the most beloved drivers among fans. Charles hated the attention you were getting, convinced that everything you did was just marketing and nothing more. He made sure to make that clear, with interviews filled with sharp remarks and intense on-track battles.

To Charles, S/n was nothing more than a lucky rookie. To S/n, Charles was just another jerk trying to bring her down—like so many before him.

“S/n, are you okay? S/n, if you’re alright, just answer!” Your engineer’s panicked voice echoed through the radio just as your car crashed into the tire barrier.

Everything happened in a blur. You had been fighting for the lead on the final lap against Charles Leclerc, and suddenly, you were struggling against your aching body to get out of your wrecked car.

“I’m fine. Just sore, but I’m fine,” you responded firmly as you stepped out of the cockpit.

Adrenaline still coursed through your veins. You kicked the car hard before shrugging it off, trying to calm yourself. The medical team rushed over, but you simply nodded and got into the rescue vehicle, removing your helmet and letting out a long sigh.

Back at the garage, you waved briefly at your trainer and went straight to your private room.

You threw your helmet into a random corner, kicked the couch, and collapsed onto it. The TV in the room replayed the crash. Anger boiled inside you. Without thinking, you got up and stormed back to the garage, determined.

“Do you have any idea what you just did, S/n?! You could have been seriously hurt… or worse!” Your PR manager, Adele, exclaimed as soon as she saw you walk in. Your trainer, Steve, and your public relations assistant, Bree, rushed to you.

You looked down at your race suit, still covered in dust. You brushed it off lightly, but nothing could erase the bitter taste of defeat burning in your throat.

“That clueless idiot is entirely to blame! He threw me into the wall on purpose! Did you see how he closed that corner?! Asshole.” Your voice dripped with indignation.

Steve and Bree immediately agreed, but Adele sighed, running a hand down her face.

“S/n, you can’t afford to lose your head over him. The media is already waiting outside, and I can guarantee they won’t go easy on you,” Bree warned, her voice calm.

You huffed, closing your eyes for a moment before facing them.

“Sorry, guys. But this time, I won’t stay quiet.”

The paddock sweltered under the scorching sun, and the sound of cameras clicking was deafening. You adjusted your team cap, trying to hide the simmering rage.

In front of you, a journalist held out a microphone with a smug smile.

“So, S/n… Do you think that crash was due to incompetence or inexperience?”

Your jaw tightened, but the journalist continued, not even bothering to mask his sarcasm.

“I mean, a lot of people were already questioning your place in Formula 1. Isn’t it obvious now that this sport just isn’t for you?”

You clenched your fists, trying to keep your anger in check. But before you could respond, a firm voice cut through the air:

“Excuse me, are you planning to ask serious questions and act like a professional, or are you just going to keep up this ridiculous circus?”

You turned to see Max Verstappen standing beside you, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

The journalist tried to laugh, taken aback, but Max didn’t back down.

“If any other driver had crashed, you’d be analyzing the data, not mocking them. But of course, it’s easier to tear down a woman than admit she has talent.”

A lump formed in your throat—not from weakness, but from gratitude.

“If you want to talk about who deserves to be in Formula 1, start by actually analyzing things properly. But I suppose real journalism is too hard for you,” Max finished, pulling you away from the journalist, who stood speechless.

When the interviews finally ended, you leaned against a wall near the exit.

“Thanks, Max. I don’t think I’ve ever been at a loss for words before.”

He smirked.

“It’s alright, S/n. Look, I know what it’s like to be criticized. Not like you, of course. It must be even harder for you… Society is still so sexist. But you’re strong. You’ll get through this.”

He draped an arm over your shoulder.

“And since I was so nice, how about you buy me an ice cream?”

You laughed, finally feeling some of the pressure and anger fade away.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

( . . . )

Just minutes after you left, the same journalist who had humiliated you was now grinning at Charles—the one responsible for your crash and disqualification. The contrast was brutal.

“Charles, what a race! You mastered the corners brilliantly and proved once again why you’re one of the best on the grid. How does it feel to be such an inspiration to aspiring drivers?”

S/n watched the broadcast while picking up her ice cream. Max had been smiling at you, but as soon as he saw your expression, his own smile faded. Your muscles had already tensed in anger. The way Charles smiled and basked in the praise made your blood boil.

“Well, I think some drivers need to understand track limits better. But… it’s all part of the learning process, right?” Charles spoke modestly, but his tone carried clear provocation.

You felt your entire body tremble. How dare he act like a hero after what he had done?

Max, standing beside you, whispered:

“S/n, don’t do anything. This is exactly what he wants.”

He gripped your arm, worried about what you might do next, and pulled you away from the shop.

You took a deep breath, but every word from that reporter felt like a knife sinking deeper into your skin.

Minutes later, Charles approached you in the corridors, hands in his pockets, wearing a smug grin.

“Are you okay, princess? That was quite the accident… Shame you couldn’t keep the car under control.”

S/n clenched her jaw, fists tightening. Every fiber of her being screamed to punch him right there.

But she held her ground, her voice a cold, sharp blade.

“Careful, Charles. Because when I win, there won’t be any excuses left to save you.”

And with that, she walked away, leaving him speechless.

When you reached your motorhome, Adele was waiting for you, pacing back and forth.

“Hey, Adele! What happened—” Before you could finish speaking, she pulled out her phone and showed you a news article.

“S/n under suspicion: FIA investigates possible data manipulation in the rookie driver’s car.”

Your eyes scanned the words, your heart pounding. A lump formed in your throat. It was a lie. A dirty, planned lie…

You felt your fingers trembling.

Lando came up behind you and read the headline over your shoulder.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” Lando said, frowning. You jumped at his sudden presence and immediately turned to face him.

“They want me out of the game,” you murmured, pure anger in your voice.

You walked into the motorhome and threw yourself onto the couch, running a hand over your face, exhausted from all the accusations.

( . . . )

Two weeks had passed since your confrontation with Charles, and finally, it was another race weekend. You smiled as soon as you stepped into the paddock—nothing could shake you here.

Everything was perfect. You were in a great mood, and everything felt in perfect harmony.

As you made your way to your team’s garage, you suddenly felt someone grab your arm before you could step inside.

You stumbled, but someone caught you. Looking up, you saw Lando, his hand on his chest as he tried to catch his breath.

“Lando! What happened? Why did you drag me here?” you asked, laughing at his reaction.

The worried expression on his face made your heart skip a beat.

“S/n, did you check social media today?” Lando asked, and you shook your head.

“No, why?” You asked, looking at the phone in his hand.

Frowning, you grabbed the phone, your eyes darting over the bold headline on the sports website:

“SCANDAL IN FORMULA 1: S/N INVOLVED IN AFFAIR WITH COMMITTED TEAMMATE”

“Internal team sources reveal that rookie driver S/n isn’t just trying to make a name for herself on the track but also off of it. According to exclusive reports, S/n has allegedly been having an affair with her teammate while he was still in a relationship with his now ex-girlfriend, who is pregnant!

The secret relationship has supposedly caused numerous arguments within the team, with rumors that tensions in the garage became unbearable after a confrontation between the ex-girlfriend and S/n. Some team members, speaking anonymously, claim that the driver’s performance has been questioned because she has allegedly been receiving internal favors to keep her seat.

Moreover, speculation has arisen that her closeness with her teammate may be influencing certain strategic decisions in her favor, raising doubts about the legitimacy of her season results.

The FIA has yet to comment on the matter, but the negative backlash is growing on social media. Has S/n used Formula 1 not only to prove her skills but also to climb the ranks through scandal?”

“WHAT?!” you shouted, and Lando quickly covered your mouth.

You felt your blood boiling in your veins. Your heart was beating so fast it echoed in your ears. You reread every sentence, every disgusting lie, and the anger inside you grew into a suffocating knot in your throat.

“This is absurd,” your best friend said in a low but furious voice. You looked at him in desperation, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your body shaking with fear.

“What kind of sick joke is this, Lando?” You stared at the phone in your hand. “Who would have the audacity to make this up?! How the hell am I ‘influencing strategic decisions’ when they barely trust me to change my tires at the pit stop?” Your voice was low, but Lando looked at you worriedly, already knowing you well enough to see that you were on the verge of an outburst.

“Whoever did this wants to destroy you, no matter what. First, that ridiculous accusation about the car’s data, and now this?” Lando leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair.

“And the worst part is that people are going to believe it!” you said, deadly serious but clearly terrified.

“S/n, I know you want to explode right now, but we need to think about what to do. They want to destabilize you.” Lando spoke, and silence fell over the place. You weren’t just angry anymore—you were sad, upset. You wanted to cry.

You took a deep breath, but it felt like you couldn’t get enough air. Your eyes returned to the phone, where the article was already going viral. In the comments, a flood of toxic messages appeared:

“Knew she wasn’t actually talented.”

“Women in F1 always end up making headlines for the wrong reasons.”

“Of course, it had to be a woman. Getting ahead the easy way.”

“Shame on the sport. Who’s protecting her?”

That was the final straw for you.

Your chest ached. Not from weakness, but from a deep sadness that made your body tremble.

Lando noticed.

“This isn’t just about destabilizing me, Lando! This is a direct attack on my reputation! They’re basically saying I’m only here because I slept with someone?! This is disgusting!” Your voice cracked, and tears started streaming down your face. You had never broken down like this in front of anyone. Your legs gave out, and Lando noticed, rushing toward you and pulling you into a tight hug.

“You can’t let them win, S/n. You’re not alone, okay?” Lando murmured, running a hand through your hair.

“Why, Lando? Why do they hate me so much? I never did anything to these… assholes, I swear! I may be explosive, but what did I ever do to them?” you sobbed, your voice failing. Your best friend was always there for you, and you were grateful for that.

( . . . )

“What the hell is this!?” Max bursts out, furious, as he storms into the meeting room where you, the team leader, and the PR team are gathered.

You still felt the sadness burning inside you when the door swung open forcefully. Your teammate, Max, rushed in, his eyes blazing with indignation. Right behind him, Kelly, his girlfriend, clutched her phone tightly, as if ready to smash it.

“Oh, so you saw the ridiculous nonsense they’re spreading too? Welcome to hell.” You sigh, your tone calm. Everyone stares at you, surprised. They expected you to be angry—or worse.

Max ran a hand through his hair, visibly upset.

“I saw it, and it’s unbelievable! Who has the audacity to make up something like this? I’m still with Kelly, and now they’re trying to turn this into a scandal?” Max says, sitting down beside you. Kelly joins him, and despite her frustration, she offers you a reassuring smile.

“This is so ridiculous it’s actually offensive! As if I would end a relationship over a stupid rumor!” Kelly says, clearly frustrated with the situation. She looks at you, her expression softening when she sees the emptiness in your eyes. “I know you would never do something like this. Just because you’re a woman working in a male-dominated field doesn’t mean you have to sleep with someone to earn your place. Whoever wrote this deserves to be sued.”

An unexpected tightness grips your chest. After everything you had endured that day, hearing Kelly defend you instead of accusing you was a relief you didn’t even know you needed.

You offer a small, tired smile and meet her gaze.

“Thank you for believing in me,” you whisper, and she smiles back.

“The problem was never you, S/n. The problem is people who refuse to accept that a woman can be great at what she does without relying on anyone,” Bree, your PR assistant, speaks up, and you let out a deep sigh.

Max nods in agreement.

“Exactly. They want to destroy S/n’s reputation because they know they can’t beat her on the track,” Max finally says after a long silence. He takes a deep breath, grabs his phone, and starts typing. “I’m shutting this down right now.”

Within seconds, his Instagram post is already going viral:

@maxverstappen: “Just to be clear: the rumors about S/n and me having any kind of romantic involvement are completely false. Kelly and I are together and doing great, and this attack on S/n is just another disgusting attempt to discredit her. Enough with the fake news. Respect the sport.”

Kelly follows suit, posting a story:

@kellypiquet: “Let’s get one thing straight: S/n has NEVER disrespected me or Max in any way. This story is just another example of how women in sports are attacked for no reason. Grow up.”

( . . . )

After the fake news scandal, you expected Charles Leclerc to use it against you, but to your surprise, he remained silent. No provocative comments, no sly remarks in interviews. He just watched you from a distance, as if analyzing your every reaction.

Charles truly didn’t feel comfortable mocking this kind of situation—not after everything he had witnessed.

Then, the day after the media chaos, when you were alone in the garage reviewing race data, he appeared beside you, casually leaning against the table.

“So… what’s it like being the most dangerous woman in Formula 1?” Charles asked sarcastically, but without the malice he once had.

You narrowed your eyes, already expecting a jab. You were used to his teasing.

“Listen, Charles,” you said, stepping closer, “if you’re here to make jokes, you can turn around and leave. I’m not in the mood.”

Charles crossed his arms, but his gaze lacked the arrogance it usually carried.

“Relax, hothead. I’m not here to fight. I just… wanted to see how you were holding up,” Charles said, scratching the back of his head. You hesitated for a moment, confused.

Charles was asking how you were?

“As if you care,” you spat, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms.

Charles shrugged.

“I’m not going to lie—I enjoy messing with you. But I know what it’s like to have the world call you a fraud.”

Your eyes widened, surprised by his admission.

“You? The media’s golden boy? Ferrari’s prodigy?” you mocked, and he rolled his eyes.

“The media chooses who to attack. Today, it’s you. Tomorrow, it could be anyone,” Charles said before walking away.

And for the first time, you didn’t feel immediate hatred for Leclerc.

( . . . )

After the false news spread, the journalists still hadn’t let go of S/n. Now, more than ever, she was the main target. During a team event, a persistent reporter started pressing her with loaded questions.

“S/n, do you think your involvement with Max could affect your career in the long run?”

The reporter’s words instantly irritated you.

“I’ve already said there was no involvement. That’s a lie.” You responded confidently, keeping your anger in check.

But he just smirked, still trying to provoke you.

“But rumors always have some truth to them, don’t they? Maybe it’s just a matter of admitting it…”

Before you could snap, Charles appeared by your side, resting a casual yet protective hand on your shoulder. You glanced at his hand, then at him, then back at his hand. You raised an eyebrow, confused.

“Interesting… you ask very specific questions for someone who has no proof of anything.” Charles stared directly at the reporter. The journalist hesitated, and Charles continued. “Formula 1 is a competitive sport, but it seems like you’d rather turn it into a cheap reality show.”

You were surprised. It was the first time Charles had publicly defended you or had any interaction beyond provoking you.

When the journalist finally gave up and walked away, you turned to him, suspicious.

“Okay… what was that?” You asked slowly, still looking at his hand on your shoulder. Charles pulled it away, made a face, and wiped it on his clothes.

He shrugged.

“You already have enough problems. You don’t need an idiot like that making it worse.”

You stared at him, trying to figure him out.

“You hate me. Why are you helping me?”

Charles held your gaze a second longer than necessary before smirking.

“Who said I hate you?” He said and then walked away, leaving you more confused than ever.

( . . . )

After Charles’ unexpected defense, the dynamic between the two of you became dangerous territory. You started noticing how often he was around—sometimes teasing, sometimes protective, but always testing your limits.

Then, during another press conference, Charles defended you again. Lando and Max exchanged glances before looking at you, waiting for your reaction. You stared, mouth slightly open, completely lost. You turned to Lando and murmured:

“What was that?”

Lando just shrugged, looking even more confused than you.

That really sent some intrusive thoughts your way.

At the paddock gym? He was there, running on the treadmill next to you.

In team briefings? He made a point to sit close and throw in snide remarks.

At sponsor events? He joked about how you had to smile for journalists who clearly hated you.

And the worst part? He never crossed a certain line.

One night, after a mandatory team dinner, you were walking back to the hotel when you heard footsteps behind you. You turned abruptly—there he was, hands in his pockets, walking casually as if it was nothing.

“Are you following me now?” You rolled your eyes.

Charles gave you a slow smirk, completely unfazed by the accusation.

“Relax, hothead. I’m not that obsessed with you. We’re just heading to the same place.”

He said it so casually, making sure to emphasize the nickname he had given you, something he always did when you were alone.

You crossed your arms, suspicious.

“Right. And you just happen to always be where I am lately? And what’s with that nickname?”

Your arguments didn’t bother him one bit—unlike you, who desperately wanted answers.

He shrugged.

“Coincidence. Or maybe I just like seeing you get worked up.” He clicked his tongue. “And the nickname? It’s just a fact. You’re really stressed all the time, S/n.”

You narrowed your eyes. You wanted to hate him completely, but something about his calm, teasing demeanor made your blood boil in a different way.

And the nickname? He wasn’t wrong.

So you turned on your heel, walking briskly toward your room.

You didn’t want to think about him. You didn’t want to be around him.

That was it.

Avoid him. You told yourself.

[d-targaryenshoe]

Blissful Banter- Luke Thompson

Word count: 1432

Summary: Yet a lie detector brings fun to one's connection even the truth likes to be discovered.

Luke glanced at the lie detector machine with skepticism and amusement.

You sat across from him with a playful smile on your face.

You had been together for a little over a year, and despite your age gap—Luke being thirty-six and you twenty-five, you had developed a deep and affectionate relationship.

However, you both had a teasing nature, often poking fun at each other in a way that only made your bond stronger.

Today, you decided to put your playful banter to the test, literally, by trying out a lie detector test.

"Are you sure about this?" Luke asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched the technician prepare the equipment.

"Absolutely," you replied, your voice light with excitement. "I’ve always wanted to see if you could lie to me with a straight face."

Luke chuckled, shaking his head. "I don’t lie, love. I’m an open book."

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "Sure, and I’m the Queen of England."

The technician, a stern-looking man in his fifties, adjusted the sensors on Luke’s wrist.

"Remember, the machine will measure changes in your physiological responses," he explained in a monotone. "So try to relax."

"Easy for you to say," Luke muttered under his breath. He caught your amused gaze and winked. "Bring it on."

With the machine ready, the technician nodded at you to start.

"Okay, let’s start with something simple," you said, crossing your legs and leaning back in your chair. "Who’s your favorite character in Bridgerton?"

Luke smirked. "Benedict, of course. How can I not."

The lie detector remained steady, confirming his truthfulness.

"Really?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "Your own character."

Luke laughed, shaking his head. "Anthony’s too uptight. And Colin is the opposite of Ben, cool, confident, and irresistible."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. "Alright, Mr. Confident. Let’s see if you’re as honest about other things."

You leaned forward, your tone turning teasingly. "Do you like my cooking?"

Luke hesitated for a fraction of a second, a split-second that didn’t escape your notice.

"Of course I do," he replied, his voice a tad too enthusiastic.

The machine beeped softly, indicating a small spike.

You gasped, your eyes wide with mock indignation. "You liar! I knew you didn’t like my quinoa salad!"

Luke chuckled, shrugging. "It’s not that I don’t like it, I just... prefer your lasagna."

"Mm-hmm," you said, squinting at him playfully. "I’ll remember that next time you ask for seconds."

The atmosphere between you was light and full of affection, with the lie detector test turning into a fun game rather than a serious interrogation.

You both knew that these little white lies—like Luke’s opinion on quinoa—were part of what made your relationship so enjoyable.

"Alright, my turn," Luke said, sitting up a bit straighter. "Do you secretly think I’m too old for you?"

Your expression softened as you considered your answer. "Truthfully? No, I don’t think you’re too old for me. I love that you’re a bit older. It makes me feel like I have someone who’s mature and knows what he wants."

The machine stayed silent, confirming your truthfulness.

Luke’s heart warmed at your words, and he smiled, reaching across the table to take your hand. "I’m glad to hear that."

You squeezed his hand in return, then leaned back with a mischievous grin. "But just to keep things interesting… Do you ever get jealous when I talk about how attractive Simone Ashley is?"

Luke’s grin turned into a mock scowl. "Jealous? Me? Never." But the lie detector’s soft beep betrayed him.

You burst out laughing. "I knew it! You’re jealous."

Luke raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, fine, maybe just a little. But can you blame me? She's an absolute gem."

"True," you agreed, still giggling. "But don’t worry, you’re the only one for me."

You shared a tender moment, the banter giving way to genuine affection.

Luke realized that despite the light-hearted nature of the test, it was reaffirming what you both knew deep down—that you were crazy about each other, quirks and all.

"Okay, back to business," Luke said, clearing his throat. "How much did you actually know about Bridgerton before we started dating?"

You blushed slightly, biting your lip. "Honestly? Not much. I might have watched a couple of episodes before, but I wasn’t really into it until I met you."

The machine remained silent, and Luke smiled. "So, you started watching it just because of me?"

"Maybe," you admitted, your cheeks still pink. "I mean, it was worth it to understand your character."

Luke laughed, feeling touched. "That’s sweet. I’ll give you that one."

"Your turn," you said, your eyes gleaming with mischief. "Did you really think I was into you on our first date, or did you think I was just being polite?"

Luke chuckled, remembering your first date. "I was pretty sure you were into me. I mean, who wouldn’t be?"

You raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for the lie detector’s verdict.

The machine, however, remained steady, backing up Luke’s confidence.

"Wow, someone’s cocky," you teased, though you were impressed.

"What can I say?" Luke replied, grinning. "I’ve got a sixth sense for these things."

You shook your head, as though you were smiling. "Alright, Mr. Sixth Sense. Here’s a tough one—have you ever lied to me about something important?"

Luke’s smile faltered slightly as he thought about the question.

He wanted to answer quickly and truthfully, but the seriousness of the question caught him off guard.

"No," he said finally, his tone sincere. "I haven’t lied to you about anything important."

The lie detector agreed with him, showing no signs of deception.

You smiled softly, your eyes filled with warmth. "Good. I believe you."

Luke exhaled, realizing just how much your trust meant to him. "I’d never lie to you about something that mattered. You’re too important to me."

For a moment, the playful atmosphere shifted to something deeper, a reminder of the solid foundation you had built together despite your age difference and different life experiences.

"Okay," you said, clearing your throat and lightening the mood again.

"Let’s end on a fun one. Have you ever pretended to be interested in one of my hobbies just because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings?"

Luke laughed, knowing exactly what you were referring to. "You mean like when I pretended to enjoy that pottery class?"

You gasped, your eyes wide with faux outrage. "You didn’t enjoy it?"

"The clay was all over the place, and I made a bowl that looked more like a pancake," Luke admitted, grinning. "But I did it because I wanted to spend time with you."

The lie detector stayed silent, indicating that he was telling the truth.

You giggled, shaking your head. "Okay, I’ll give you that. But I actually thought your pancake bowl was pretty cute."

"Thanks," Luke said, smiling. "But let’s stick to your cooking from now on."

You laughed, the sound warm and infectious. "Deal. But only if you promise to keep watching Bridgerton with me, even when there’s no more Simon Basset."

Luke leaned across the table, capturing your lips in a quick, affectionate kiss. "Deal."

As you wrapped up the lie detector session, Luke realized that the test, while initially just a bit of fun, had brought you closer.

The playful teasing, the honest confessions, and the laughter reminded you both of why you worked so well together.

Despite the differences in your ages, your relationship was built on trust, understanding, and a shared sense of humor.

"Well, that was fun," you said as you stood up, stretching after being seated for so long. "We should do this again sometime."

"Only if you’re ready to admit that I’m your favorite Bridgerton," Luke replied with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, as though you were smiling. "We’ll see about that. Maybe I’ll start lying just to keep you on your toes."

Luke laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist as you walked out of the room. "As long as you keep laughing with me, I think we’ll be just fine."

As you left the building, the sun setting in the distance, you both knew that the little adventure with the lie detector had only strengthened your bond.

After all, love wasn’t just about being truthful, it was about finding joy in each other’s quirks, teasing, and growing together—even when a lie detector was involved.

With that thought in mind, Luke and you walked hand in hand, ready to face whatever challenges—and jokes—your relationship might bring next.

[okasuka]

Damian wayne x Y/N

Title: Unspoken Admiration

It was just another mundane day at Gotham Academy. The bell had rung, signaling the start of literature class, and you were busy explaining something to Damian Wayne, your seat partner and—to your constant amusement—the most enigmatic boy in school. You had been going on about the assignment for a good two minutes before realizing something was…off.

“Damian,” you said, pausing to glance over at him. “Are you even listening to me?”

He blinked, startled, as if he hadn’t even realized you were talking. His usual sharp green eyes softened for a split second before reverting to his signature stoic expression. “Of course, I am. Continue.”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Oh really? Then what did I just say?”

He opened his mouth but faltered. The truth was, he hadn’t caught a single word. His gaze had been fixed on the way the light from the classroom window caught the strands of your hair, the way your eyes sparkled when you spoke passionately about even the most boring topics, and the way your lips curved when you tried to make a point.

“Something about…books?” he ventured, trying to sound nonchalant.

You sighed and shook your head, unable to hide a small smile. “Wrong. I was explaining our part of the group project, which you’re clearly not paying attention to.”

“I am paying attention,” Damian countered, crossing his arms.

“No, you’re not. You’ve been staring into space since class started,” you teased, narrowing your eyes. “Or were you too busy admiring the view outside?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his composure faltering. “The view was…adequate.”

You leaned in closer, smirking. “Adequate? Now I know you weren’t listening. What’s up with you today, Wayne? You’re usually the first one to call me out for zoning out.”

“I do no such thing,” Damian replied, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink.

You noticed, of course, and couldn’t resist pressing further. “Oh, you totally do. What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

Damian looked away, his jaw tightening. “Perhaps if you focused less on my supposed shortcomings and more on the task at hand, we might make progress.”

“Deflecting now, huh?” you said, leaning back and crossing your arms. “Fine. But if we fail this project because you decided to stare into space—or at whatever it is you were so distracted by—don’t blame me.”

Damian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I assure you, we won’t fail. I’ll ensure our success.”

“How noble of you,” you replied with a grin. “Now, can we finally get back to—”

The loud screech of a chair interrupted you as Damian suddenly stood.

“Wayne? What are you—”

“Meet me after class,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Your eyes widened. “What? Why?”

“Because I owe you an explanation,” he said, voice softer this time.

Before you could reply, the teacher cleared their throat at the front of the room. “Mr. Wayne, sit down. Now.”

Damian hesitated for a moment, then obeyed, sitting back down beside you. The rest of the class dragged on in awkward silence, but you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. His usually cool and composed demeanor seemed…off.

As soon as the bell rang, Damian was out of his seat, motioning for you to follow him.

“Alright, Wayne,” you said, catching up to him in the empty hallway. “What’s going on? Why were you acting so weird back there?”

He stopped abruptly and turned to face you. His intense green eyes locked onto yours, making your breath hitch.

“I wasn’t staring into space,” he said, his voice low but steady.

“Then what were you—”

“I was staring at you,” he admitted, cutting you off.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” Damian said, his tone softening. “You were…talking about the project, and I couldn’t focus because…I find you distracting.”

Your mouth fell open in surprise. “Distracting?”

“Yes. It’s irritating, really,” he muttered, his cheeks flushed again.

“Irritating,” you echoed, a small laugh escaping you. “Well, that’s flattering.”

“I’m being serious,” he said, stepping closer. “I’m not used to this—this distraction. You make it hard to focus, and I’m not sure what to do about it.”

You stared at him, your heart racing. “Damian Wayne, are you…trying to tell me you like me?”

He hesitated for only a moment before nodding, his confidence returning. “Yes. I like you. Is that so surprising?”

You blinked, trying to process his sudden confession. “A little, yeah. You don’t exactly wear your heart on your sleeve.”

“Perhaps not,” he admitted, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. “But for you, I might make an exception.”

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t stop the smile spreading across your face. “Well, I guess I can forgive you for zoning out…this time.”

He smirked. “Good. Because I have no intention of failing that project—or letting you down.”

“Then let’s start by focusing on it together,” you teased.

“Agreed,” he said, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “But perhaps we could…discuss this further over dinner sometime?”

Your smile widened. “Is that your way of asking me out, Wayne?”

“Yes,” he said simply.

“Then my answer is yes,” you replied, feeling a rush of excitement.

For once, Damian didn’t have a comeback. He just smiled—a rare, genuine smile that made your heart flutter.

And for the rest of the day, he didn’t zone out once. Well, almost.

After school, you waited by the front gates as Damian emerged, his blazer neatly buttoned as always, his usual cool composure firmly in place. You noticed, though, the faint smile tugging at his lips as he approached you.

“So, where exactly are we going?” you asked, falling into step beside him.

Damian adjusted his bag on his shoulder and glanced at you briefly. “You’ll see.”

“Cryptic as ever, Wayne,” you teased.

“It’s not cryptic,” he countered, his lips twitching slightly. “It’s a surprise.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Damian Wayne and surprises didn’t exactly go hand-in-hand.

Fifteen minutes later, you stood in front of a small, cozy-looking comic book shop tucked away in a quiet corner of the city.

Your jaw dropped. “Wait—this is where you brought me?”

“Yes,” Damian replied simply, pushing the door open and holding it for you.

You stepped inside, your heart skipping with excitement. The smell of old comics, fresh ink, and slightly dusty shelves filled the air, and you immediately spotted rows of your favorite series.

“How did you even know I love this place?” you asked, glancing back at him.

Damian shrugged, his tone casual but his expression softer than usual. “You mentioned it once. Something about finding rare issues of Kick-Ass and Invincible here.”

“You remembered that?” you asked, surprised.

“Of course,” he said matter-of-factly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Within moments, you were lost in the aisles, pulling out various issues and geeking out about your favorite characters.

“Oh my gosh, Damian, look!” you said, holding up a pristine copy of Kick-Ass #1. “This is the original issue! I’ve been looking for this forever!”

Damian watched you with a small, amused smile as you practically hugged the comic.

“And Invincible!” you continued, grabbing another issue. “This is one of the best series ever written. I mean, the depth of Mark’s character arc? Chef’s kiss.”

He chuckled, leaning against a nearby shelf. “You’re very passionate about this.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you said, mock-pouting.

“Not at all,” he replied, his voice unusually soft. “It’s…refreshing.”

You paused, your cheeks warming as you caught the way he was looking at you—like you were the most fascinating thing in the room.

“You’re not bad at this, you know,” you said, trying to ease the sudden fluttering in your chest.

“Bad at what?”

“At making a girl feel special,” you admitted, glancing down at the comics in your hands.

He smirked, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t aware I needed practice.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Okay, Mr. Perfect, what about you? What’s your favorite comic?”

“The Demon’s Head Chronicles,” he said without hesitation.

“Wait, that’s not a real series,” you said, narrowing your eyes.

“No, it’s not,” he admitted, a sly grin spreading across his face. “But it’s an excellent name, don’t you think?”

You burst out laughing. “Okay, okay, you got me there. But seriously, you need to read Invincible. I swear, you’ll love it.”

“Perhaps I’ll give it a chance,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “If only to understand your endless enthusiasm.”

“Endless, huh?” you teased, nudging him with your elbow. “That’s a bold statement for someone who just spent an entire literature class zoning out.”

He smirked, tilting his head slightly. “Perhaps I was too distracted by something far more captivating.”

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t help smiling. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Maybe,” he said, his smirk softening into a genuine smile.

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon browsing the shop, laughing and debating the merits of different series. By the time you left, your hands were full of comics, and your heart was fuller than it had been in a long time.

As you walked side by side under the fading sunlight, you glanced up at Damian. “Thanks for today. This was…perfect.”

He looked down at you, his gaze warm. “You’re welcome. But the day’s not over yet.”

“Oh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s next, Wayne?”

He smirked. “You’ll see.”

And with that, you knew this was just the beginning of something extraordinary.

The sun dipped lower in the sky as Damian led you down a quiet street. The cool evening air brushed against your cheeks, and despite the weight of the comics in your arms, you couldn’t help but feel light.

“So, you’re just going to keep being all mysterious, huh?” you teased, glancing over at him.

He smirked. “Would you prefer I spoil the surprise?”

“Maybe,” you said playfully, nudging him with your shoulder. “I like knowing what I’m walking into.”

“That ruins the fun,” he replied. “Trust me, you’ll enjoy it.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Fine, Wayne. Lead the way.”

A few minutes later, you arrived at a quaint little park tucked away from the bustle of the city. It was quiet, save for the occasional chirp of birds and the rustling of leaves. Damian gestured toward a bench under a large oak tree.

“Here?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Sit,” he instructed, his tone firm but not unkind.

You obeyed, setting your bag of comics beside you. Damian sat down next to you, pulling something out of his backpack—a small, neatly wrapped package.

“What’s this?” you asked, eyeing it curiously.

“Open it,” he said, his lips curving into the faintest smile.

You carefully unwrapped the package, revealing a hardcover comic book. Your eyes widened as you read the title: Kick-Ass Deluxe Edition.

“Damian…” you breathed, running your fingers over the pristine cover. “This is—how did you even—?”

“I noticed your copy was missing a few pages,” he said, his voice calm but tinged with satisfaction. “I thought you’d appreciate a complete version.”

You stared at him, speechless. It wasn’t just that he’d remembered such a small detail—it was the effort he’d gone through to replace it.

“Damian,” you said again, softer this time. “This is…incredible. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, his gaze steady. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Nothing?” you said, laughing lightly. “Do you even realize how much this means to me?”

“I think I have an idea,” he said, his expression softening.

For a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the sounds of the park filling the air. You flipped through the pages of the comic, marveling at its pristine condition.

“This is officially the best day ever,” you said, leaning back against the bench.

“Glad I could contribute to that,” Damian said, his tone light but sincere.

You glanced over at him, your heart swelling. “You know, for someone who pretends to be all broody and unapproachable, you’re actually pretty thoughtful.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t let that get around. I have a reputation to maintain.”

You laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink, you realized something: Damian Wayne wasn’t just a classmate or a seat partner. He was someone who paid attention, someone who cared in his own unique way.

And as you sat together, laughing and sharing stories about your favorite comics, you couldn’t help but feel like this was the start of something truly special.

The walk back to your house was filled with light conversation and teasing remarks, the evening settling into a cool, comfortable quiet. As you approached your front door, you glanced at Damian, who was carrying your bag of comics without complaint.

“Okay, so,” you started, unlocking the door, “since you officially made my day awesome, I think it’s only fair I return the favor.”

Damian raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And how do you plan to do that?”

You stepped inside, holding the door open for him. “By letting you experience the ultimate tradition: a scary movie marathon.”

“A marathon?” he repeated, stepping into the cozy warmth of your living room. “Sounds…excessive.”

“Oh, come on,” you said, tossing your bag onto the couch. “It’s fun! Plus, I have snacks. And you can’t say no to snacks.”

He smirked. “I suppose I can tolerate a few hours of mediocre horror for the sake of snacks.”

“Rude,” you said, playfully narrowing your eyes. “But I’ll allow it. Make yourself at home. I’ll grab the popcorn.”

Not long after, the two of you were settled on the couch, a giant bowl of popcorn between you and your TV queued up with one of your favorite horror movies. The lights were dimmed, the atmosphere just right for a night of frights.

“I should warn you,” you said, popping a piece of popcorn into your mouth. “This movie has some intense jump scares.”

Damian arched a brow. “I think I’ll manage.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” you replied, smirking.

About halfway through the movie, the suspense was at its peak. You could feel your heart racing as the music built up, the tension in the scene unbearable. And then—BAM! A sudden jump scare exploded on the screen.

You screamed, instinctively grabbing onto Damian’s arm and burying your face against his shoulder.

Damian stiffened immediately, his whole body going rigid as his cheeks turned an uncharacteristic shade of pink. “T-Tt. It’s just a movie,” he said, his voice unsteady.

“Sorry!” you said quickly, pulling back, your face burning with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” he said, a little too quickly, avoiding your gaze.

You bit your lip, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. He was flustered, no doubt about it, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing.

“Okay, tough guy,” you teased, trying to ease the awkwardness. “Let’s see if you’re still this calm during the next scare.”

He smirked, though the faint blush lingered on his cheeks. “I told you—I don’t scare easily.”

The hours ticked by as you made your way through movie after movie. Despite his earlier claims, Damian visibly tensed at a few of the jump scares, though he tried to play it off. You didn’t call him out on it, but you couldn’t hide your amused smile.

Eventually, the popcorn bowl was empty, and the two of you were starting to succumb to exhaustion. You leaned back against the couch, stifling a yawn as the credits rolled on the final movie.

“Alright,” you said sleepily, glancing over at Damian. “That’s it for tonight. You’re free to—”

You stopped mid-sentence, your eyes widening. Damian had fallen asleep, his head tilted slightly forward. Slowly, he shifted in his sleep, leaning against you until his head rested on your lap.

Your breath hitched as you stared down at him, his usually stoic face relaxed in peaceful slumber.

“Of course you’d fall asleep here,” you muttered softly, though you couldn’t help smiling. Carefully, you adjusted yourself so you wouldn’t disturb him, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his face.

The warmth of his presence and the quiet of the room made it hard to stay awake. Despite your best efforts, your eyelids grew heavy, and soon enough, you drifted off, a small, contented smile on your face.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the windows, and the sound of birds chirping gently stirred you awake. You blinked groggily, realizing that Damian was still asleep on your lap, his breathing slow and steady.

You smiled to yourself, resisting the urge to laugh at how uncharacteristically vulnerable he looked. As if sensing your gaze, his eyes fluttered open, and he blinked a few times before looking up at you.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” you said, your voice still soft with sleep.

His cheeks turned pink as he realized his position, and he quickly sat up, clearing his throat. “I must have fallen asleep.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” you teased, stretching. “You make a pretty good pillow, though.”

He glanced at you, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at his lips. “You didn’t have to stay like that.”

“Didn’t mind,” you said with a shrug. “It was kind of…nice.”

For once, Damian didn’t have a clever comeback. He just looked at you, a warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice sincere.

“For what?” you asked, tilting your head.

“For this,” he said, gesturing around the room. “For…everything.”

You smiled, your chest swelling with warmth. “Anytime, Wayne.”

And as the two of you shared a quiet moment in the early morning light, you knew that this was the beginning of something even better than your favorite comics—a story of your own.

After a quick breakfast and a lot of playful banter, you and Damian decided to take a walk to stretch your legs and enjoy the crisp morning air. The streets were quieter than usual, with only a few people milling about.

“Did you sleep well on my couch?” you teased as the two of you strolled side by side.

Damian smirked, tucking his hands into his pockets. “It wasn’t the couch that helped. It was the company.”

Your cheeks warmed at the comment, but you managed to laugh it off. “You’re lucky you’re charming, Wayne. Most people don’t get away with falling asleep during movie night.”

“I don’t fall asleep often,” he replied, glancing at you with a softer expression. “But I suppose I felt…comfortable.”

You looked at him, your heart skipping at his honesty. Before you could respond, the sound of clicking cameras and excited chatter drew your attention.

“Is that Damian Wayne?”

A group of people approached, phones out, cameras flashing as they recognized him. The sudden shift in the atmosphere was jarring, the peaceful quiet replaced by the hum of voices and the chaos of attention.

“Damian, over here!”

“Mr. Wayne, can we get a statement?”

“What’s your connection to Bruce Wayne Enterprises?”

Damian’s jaw tightened, his usual calm composure faltering as the crowd swarmed closer.

You, caught off guard, felt yourself being pushed back as more paparazzi closed in. “Hey! Can you—”

“Y/N!” Damian’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. His eyes darted toward you, panic flickering in them as he realized you were being separated from him.

Before you could call out to him, Damian’s hand shot forward, grabbing your wrist. With surprising force and precision, he pulled you against him, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist.

“Move,” he growled, his voice low and threatening as he navigated the crowd.

Despite his clear frustration, the paparazzi only pressed closer, their cameras clicking wildly. “Damian, who’s the girl? Is she your girlfriend?”

“Is this your secret relationship?”

Damian’s grip on your waist tightened as he pushed through the throng. Finally, he spotted an opening and quickly guided you into a nearby alley. The two of you ducked into the shadows, away from prying eyes and cameras.

Panting, you leaned against the brick wall, trying to catch your breath. “What…what was that?”

Damian stood in front of you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to calm himself. His hands were still on your waist, his touch firm but not uncomfortable.

“Idiots,” he muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. “They have no respect for boundaries.”

You glanced up at him, your pulse still racing—not just from the adrenaline, but from the proximity. “Damian…you okay?”

He looked down at you, his green eyes softening as he realized how close the two of you were. His hands lingered on your waist, and for once, he didn’t pull away.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost tender.

You nodded, your breath hitching as his gaze locked onto yours. The intensity in his eyes made it impossible to look away, and the world around you seemed to fade.

“Damian…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Before you could say anything else, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tentative, almost uncertain kiss. The moment was electric, the chaos of the world outside forgotten as his warmth enveloped you.

You responded instinctively, your hands reaching up to rest on his shoulders as the kiss deepened. His grip on your waist tightened slightly, pulling you closer as if afraid to let go.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“Wow,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Apologies,” Damian murmured, though his tone didn’t sound regretful.

“For what?” you asked, your smile widening.

“For not doing that sooner,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing slightly.

You laughed lightly, your heart swelling at his rare vulnerability. “I think I can forgive you.”

A faint smirk crossed his lips as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “Good. Because I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

And with that, the two of you walked out of the alley, hand in hand, ready to face whatever came next—together.

Hand in hand, you and Damian walked out of the alley, the bustle of the city feeling like a distant hum compared to the energy between the two of you. His grip on your hand was firm but not possessive, grounding you after the chaos of the paparazzi.

“Do they always act like that?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“They’re vultures,” Damian said bluntly, his lips pressing into a thin line. “It comes with the name. Unfortunately, it’s not something I can avoid.”

You squeezed his hand gently, offering him a reassuring smile. “Well, at least you handled it like a pro. Minus the whole dragging-me-into-an-alley thing.”

He glanced at you, his mouth twitching into a rare smirk. “Would you have preferred I left you behind?”

“Not a chance,” you said with a laugh. “But seriously, Damian, you didn’t have to get so…protective.”

“Yes, I did,” he replied, his voice soft but firm. “They wouldn’t have stopped. And I—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you being overwhelmed because of me.”

Your heart softened at his honesty, and you tugged on his hand to make him stop. He turned to face you, his green eyes filled with a rare vulnerability.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you said gently. “I’m glad you were there. And…well, I didn’t mind the whole knight-in-shining-armor act.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you think I was doing?”

“Maybe,” you teased, grinning. “Don’t let it go to your head, though.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Too late.”

The two of you continued your walk, eventually finding a quieter part of the city where the streets were lined with small cafes and quaint shops. Damian, ever perceptive, noticed the tension in your shoulders beginning to ease.

“I think I owe you something,” he said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

You looked at him, confused. “Owe me? For what?”

“For letting that mess ruin our morning,” he replied. “Let me make it up to you.”

“Damian, you don’t have to—”

“I insist,” he interrupted, a glint of determination in his eyes. “Pick a place. Anywhere you want.”

You considered for a moment before your eyes landed on a small, cozy-looking coffee shop with outdoor seating. “How about there?”

He followed your gaze and nodded. “Done.”

The two of you sat at a corner table outside, sipping on warm drinks and sharing a plate of pastries. The atmosphere was peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos earlier.

“So,” you said, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “Do you kiss all your friends in dark alleys, or am I just special?”

Damian nearly choked on his coffee, glaring at you as he set the cup down. “Tt. You’re insufferable.”

“Come on,” you teased, laughing at his reaction. “Admit it—you’re kind of a romantic.”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” he said, though his cheeks betrayed him with a faint blush.

“You literally saved me from a mob and then kissed me,” you pointed out, smirking. “That’s peak romantic hero behavior.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” you said, leaning back in your chair.

Despite his exasperation, Damian’s lips curved into a small smile. “Fine. But don’t expect me to play the role of ‘romantic hero’ often.”

“No promises,” you replied, grinning.

As the morning stretched into early afternoon, the two of you lingered at the cafe, talking and laughing like there was no one else in the world. For the first time in a long while, Damian seemed completely at ease, his usual guarded demeanor giving way to something softer, more genuine.

And as you sat there, watching him tease and smirk and—yes—blush, you couldn’t help but think that this moment, with Damian Wayne by your side, was your favorite chapter yet.

Title: Unspoken Admiration (Part 6)*

The afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the streets as you and Damian left the cafe, still caught in the comfortable rhythm of conversation. The buzz of the city seemed distant, as if the world had quieted down just for the two of you.

“Alright,” you said, bumping his shoulder lightly. “What’s next on your agenda, Mr. Wayne? Saving the city? Brooding dramatically on rooftops?”

Damian smirked, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Neither, actually. I thought I might escort you home. Unless, of course, you have other plans.”

You gave him a mock-serious look. “Well, now that you mention it, I was thinking of diving into those new comics you helped me pick out. Care to join?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re inviting me to read comics with you?”

“Obviously,” you said with a grin. “You’re the one who got me that amazing Kick-Ass edition, remember? Seems only fair that we geek out over it together.”

Damian shook his head, though you caught the faint smile tugging at his lips. “Lead the way, then.”

Back at your house, the two of you settled into the living room, surrounded by a small mountain of comics. You handed Damian a copy of Invincible while you flipped through the Kick-Ass deluxe edition he’d gifted you.

“So,” you began, glancing at him. “Do you actually read comics, or was that just a lucky guess with the gift?”

“I’ve read a few,” Damian admitted, leaning back against the couch. “But I prefer action that’s more…real.”

You smirked. “Says the guy who grew up with Batman.”

He gave you a pointed look. “It’s not the same.”

“Sure, sure,” you teased. “But if you’re not a fan, I guess I’ll just have to explain everything to you.”

“Don’t underestimate me, Y/N,” he replied smoothly, flipping open the comic. “I’m a quick learner.”

Hours passed as the two of you read, swapping favorite panels and debating over the characters’ decisions. Damian surprised you with his insights, his attention to detail bringing a new perspective to stories you thought you knew inside and out.

“You know,” you said, resting your chin in your hand, “for someone who doesn’t read comics, you’re suspiciously good at analyzing them.”

“I excel at everything I do,” he replied matter-of-factly, though the glint in his eyes told you he was enjoying your reaction.

“You’re impossible,” you said, laughing.

“And yet, here we are,” he said, his voice softer now, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

As the evening wore on, you realized how late it had gotten. The warmth of the house, combined with the weight of the day, was starting to lull you into a comfortable haze. Damian, too, seemed more relaxed than you’d ever seen him.

“Alright,” you said, stifling a yawn. “I think that’s enough comics for one day.”

“Agreed,” Damian said, setting his book aside. “You’re starting to fall asleep on me.”

“Not true,” you argued, though your drooping eyelids betrayed you.

“Come on,” he said, standing and holding out a hand. “I’ll make sure you get to bed.”

You took his hand, letting him help you up. The warmth of his touch sent a small thrill through you, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Thanks, Damian,” you said as the two of you made your way to your room.

He nodded, his usual confidence tempered with a quiet sincerity. “Anytime.”

Later, as you lay in bed, the events of the day played over in your mind. The chaos of the paparazzi, the alleyway kiss, the quiet moments spent reading together—it all felt surreal, like something out of one of your comics.

You glanced toward your window, where the moonlight cast soft shadows across the room. Somewhere out there, Damian was probably making his way home, his thoughts as guarded as ever.

But tonight, you’d seen a different side of him—a side that made your heart ache in the best possible way.

With a contented sigh, you closed your eyes, already looking forward to whatever story the two of you would write next.

Title: Unspoken Admiration (Part 7)*

You sat cross-legged on your bed, staring at Damian as he leaned against the doorframe of your room, arms crossed in that classic stoic-but-somehow-effortlessly-cool pose he seemed to have mastered. He had stayed longer than you thought he would, and though he didn’t say it outright, it was clear he didn’t want to leave just yet.

Maybe it was the warmth of the moment or the lingering rush of adrenaline from the chaotic day, but you found yourself blurting out something you’d never planned to admit.

“I never thought I’d be hanging out with you outside of fighting crime or doing assignments,” you said, your voice tinged with nervous laughter. “I’ve crushed on you wayyy before you ever looked in my direction. I mean…I’m kind of glad Batsy found out my identity.”

Damian’s eyes widened slightly, the rare slip in his composure making you immediately regret being so candid.

“Uh…” You rubbed the back of your neck, looking down at your hands. “Forget I said that. Totally not important.”

“Y/N,” Damian said, his tone firm but not unkind.

You winced, daring to glance up at him. He was watching you with an unreadable expression, his green eyes searching yours for something you weren’t sure you could give.

“You…like me?” he asked, his voice softer now, as if testing the waters.

You huffed out a laugh, feeling your cheeks burn. “Yeah, genius. Kind of obvious now, huh? But, like I said, not important. You can pretend I didn’t say anything—”

“It’s important to me,” he interrupted, his words quiet but filled with conviction.

That made you pause. “Wait…what?”

Damian pushed off the doorframe, walking toward you with a steady, deliberate stride. When he stopped in front of you, his hands found his pockets, a rare sign of nervousness.

“I didn’t know,” he admitted, his gaze flickering to the floor for a moment before returning to yours. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Yeah, well,” you muttered, trying to play it off, “you’re kind of oblivious for someone who’s supposed to be, you know, a detective.”

A small smirk tugged at his lips. “Tt. I’ll admit my focus has been elsewhere.”

You rolled your eyes, though your heart was pounding in your chest. “Okay, Mr. Brooding Hero, point made. Can we move on now before this gets more embarrassing?”

“No,” he said simply, and your breath caught.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” you asked, your voice almost a whisper.

“I mean,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed beside you, “I’m not going to pretend this didn’t happen. Not when you’ve just admitted something I’ve been too much of a coward to say myself.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait…what?”

“I’ve admired you for a long time, Y/N,” he said, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “Not just because of your skills in the field, but because of who you are. Your courage, your kindness…your ability to make me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of.”

You stared at him, your heart in your throat. “Damian…”

“I thought I could keep my feelings hidden,” he continued, his gaze locking onto yours. “But hearing you say that…there’s no point in pretending anymore.”

For a moment, you were too stunned to speak. Then, without thinking, you reached out and grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers together.

“You could’ve just told me, you know,” you said, a small smile breaking through your shock. “Would’ve saved us both a lot of trouble.”

He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Perhaps. But I suppose it worked out in the end.”

“Yeah,” you said, your smile widening. “I guess it did.”

And as the two of you sat there, the weight of unspoken feelings finally lifted, you couldn’t help but feel like this was the beginning of a new chapter—one you couldn’t wait to write together.

Damian’s phone buzzed just as you were settling into the quiet comfort of the evening. He frowned as he pulled it out of his pocket, his usual sharp focus returning as he read the message.

“What is it?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Father,” Damian replied, his lips thinning. “He’s calling me back to the Batcave. Says it’s urgent.”

You frowned slightly. “Well, I guess that’s the end of the night, huh?”

Damian hesitated, his brows furrowing. “He also said…” He glanced at you, looking almost unsure for a moment. “…that you should come along.”

Your eyes widened. “Me? He wants me in the Batcave?”

He gave a curt nod. “Apparently, he deems you…worthy of the invitation.” His lips quirked into a small smirk. “Or he just wants to make sure I’m not distracted while I train.”

You laughed, nudging his arm. “Well, I’ll take what I can get. Lead the way, Wayne.”

The trip to Wayne Manor was quick, though you couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves as Damian guided you through the winding halls and down to the hidden entrance of the Batcave.

When the elevator doors slid open, the massive, sprawling cavern came into view. The iconic Batcomputer glowed in the distance, surrounded by a dizzying array of gadgets, vehicles, and training equipment.

“Wow,” you breathed, your eyes wide as you took it all in.

Damian watched you with a faint smile, his arms crossed. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

“‘Impressive’ doesn’t even cover it,” you replied, turning to face him. “You really live like this?”

He shrugged, as if the grandeur of the Batcave was no big deal. “It’s home.”

Before you could respond, Bruce’s voice echoed from the far side of the cave.

“Damian. Y/N.”

You turned to see the man himself standing near the training area, his imposing presence impossible to ignore. Dressed in his full Batman gear, he looked every bit the legend you’d always heard about.

“Father,” Damian greeted, his tone formal as he approached.

Bruce nodded, his gaze flickering to you briefly. “Y/N. I thought it might be beneficial for you to train with Damian tonight.”

You blinked in surprise. “Uh, sure. I mean—yeah. Sounds good.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Is this another test?”

Bruce’s expression remained unreadable. “Consider it preparation. You two are partners in the field, after all. You should be able to work together seamlessly.”

Damian’s lips twitched, but he didn’t argue. “Very well.”

The training started off straightforward enough. You and Damian sparred in one of the padded areas, working through a series of drills Bruce had assigned.

“You’re leaving your right side open,” Damian noted as he dodged one of your punches.

“Thanks for the tip, Mr. Perfect,” you shot back, smirking.

“Focus,” he replied, his tone sharp but not unkind.

Despite his critiques, you found yourself enjoying the session. Damian was a natural teacher, his instructions precise but not condescending. You could see why Bruce relied on him so heavily in the field.

“You’re improving,” Damian admitted after a particularly close exchange.

“Is that a compliment?” you teased, grinning as you caught your breath.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he replied, though the faint smile on his face betrayed him.

Just as you were starting to feel like you’d found your rhythm, the sound of footsteps echoed through the cave.

“Hey, is the Batcave hosting open training now?”

You turned to see Dick Grayson strolling in, his usual charm radiating off him like sunlight. Dressed in his Nightwing gear, he looked every bit the playful counterbalance to Bruce’s stoicism.

“Grayson,” Damian said, his voice laced with irritation.

“Relax, little D,” Dick said with a grin, sauntering over. “I’m just here to check out the action.” His gaze flicked to you, and he gave you a friendly wink. “Good to see you, Y/N.”

“Uh, hey, Dick,” you replied, smiling awkwardly.

As you turned back to Damian, Dick moved closer, leaning in to whisper something to his younger brother.

“Having fun with your crush?”

Damian’s eyes widened slightly, and before he could respond, Dick nudged him lightly—just enough to throw off his balance as you lunged toward him in the next drill.

“Damian, watch—!”

The next thing you knew, Damian tripped, and the two of you collided in a tangle of limbs, landing on the mat with a loud thud.

Unfortunately, the position you ended up in couldn’t have been worse. You were sprawled on top of him, your face inches from his, your hands braced awkwardly against his chest.

“Uh…” you stammered, your cheeks blazing. “Damian, I—”

“Grayson,” Damian growled, his face an uncharacteristic shade of red.

“Whoops,” Dick said, clearly holding back laughter. “My bad.”

Before you could scramble to your feet, another voice cut through the cave like a knife.

“What is going on here?”

You froze, looking up to see Bruce standing nearby, his expression as stoic as ever but with a definite edge of disapproval.

Damian immediately pushed you off and stood, his usual composure returning in an instant. “It was an accident, Father.”

Bruce’s gaze shifted between the two of you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I see.”

You got to your feet, brushing yourself off as you tried to will your blush away. “Sorry, Mr. Wayne. We were just…uh, sparring.”

“Clearly,” Bruce said, his tone dry.

Dick, meanwhile, was leaning against a nearby pillar, barely containing his laughter. “Man, this is priceless. You two should’ve seen your faces.”

Damian shot him a withering glare. “Leave. Now.”

“Alright, alright,” Dick said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll go. But seriously, you’re welcome for the assist.”

As Dick disappeared into the shadows, Bruce gave a slight shake of his head. “Focus on your training. Both of you.”

“Yes, Father,” Damian said, his tone clipped.

You nodded quickly. “Of course.”

As you and Damian resumed your drills, the tension in the air was palpable. Every now and then, you caught him glancing at you, his expression unreadable.

When the session finally ended, Bruce dismissed you with a nod. “Good work tonight. Y/N, you’re making progress.”

“Thank you,” you said, feeling a small swell of pride.

As you headed toward the elevator with Damian, the silence between you grew heavier. Finally, as the doors closed, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Okay, that was mortifying,” you said, breaking the silence.

Damian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Grayson is insufferable.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, but admit it—it was kind of funny.”

He shot you a look, though the corner of his mouth twitched. “It was not.”

“Sure, sure,” you said, smirking. “But hey, at least we survived Bruce’s death glare.”

“Barely,” Damian muttered, though his tone was lighter now.

As the elevator doors opened and the cool night air greeted you, you glanced at him, your earlier embarrassment fading.

“Thanks for letting me tag along tonight,” you said. “Even if it ended in disaster.”

He looked at you, his expression softening. “It wasn’t a disaster. And…I didn’t mind having you there.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you smiled. “Well, in that case, maybe we should make it a regular thing.”

He smirked, the usual confidence returning to his gaze. “We’ll see.”

And as the two of you stepped into the night, you couldn’t help but feel that, awkward moments and all, you were exactly where you were meant to be—with Damian Wayne by your side.

The ride back to your place was quieter than you expected, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. Damian seemed to be lost in thought, his gaze fixed out the window as the city lights streaked past. You wanted to ask him what was on his mind but decided to give him space.

When the car pulled up in front of your house, Damian stepped out and opened the door for you—a small gesture that never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said as you stepped out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

Damian nodded, his usual stoic demeanor intact. But as you turned to unlock the door, his voice stopped you.

“Y/N.”

You glanced back at him, surprised by the hesitance in his tone. “Yeah?”

He shifted slightly, his hands tucked into his pockets. “About what happened earlier…with Grayson.”

You felt a blush creeping up your neck. “Oh, uh…we don’t have to talk about that. Seriously, it was no big deal—”

“It was a big deal,” he interrupted, his voice firm but not harsh. “To me, at least.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Damian, I—”

He took a step closer, his green eyes locking onto yours. “I didn’t mean for you to get caught in that kind of situation, especially not in front of my father. But…” He paused, his gaze softening. “I also didn’t mind being close to you.”

Your heart thudded in your chest as his words sank in. “Oh.”

“Grayson’s interference aside,” Damian continued, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, “I’d like to think that moment was…not entirely unpleasant.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your nervousness melting away. “Not entirely unpleasant, huh? That’s probably the closest thing to a compliment I’m getting from you, isn’t it?”

He smirked, his confidence returning. “Don’t get used to it.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the tension from earlier replaced by a quiet warmth. Finally, you broke the silence.

“Do you want to come in?” you asked, your voice softer now. “I mean, we could hang out for a bit. If you’re not in a hurry to get home.”

Damian considered this for a moment before nodding. “Alright.”

Inside, the atmosphere was much lighter. You led Damian to the living room, where the two of you collapsed onto the couch.

“Okay,” you said, grabbing the remote. “After all that training, I think we’ve earned a break. Movie night?”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “As long as it’s not another horror film.”

You smirked. “Still scared of jump scares, huh?”

“Tt. I’m not scared,” he retorted, crossing his arms.

“Sure you’re not,” you teased, scrolling through the options. “Alright, how about something classic? Action, adventure, maybe a little comedy?”

“That’s acceptable,” he said, settling into the couch.

As the movie started, you couldn’t help but glance at Damian out of the corner of your eye. He looked more relaxed than usual, the weight of the Wayne legacy temporarily lifted from his shoulders.

“Hey,” you said, nudging him gently. “Thanks for tonight. For, you know, letting me be part of your world.”

He turned to you, his expression softening. “You’ve always been part of my world, Y/N. I just hadn’t realized how important you are to it until now.”

Your breath caught at his words, and for a moment, you forgot about the movie entirely.

“Damian…”

Before you could say anything else, he reached out, taking your hand in his. The gesture was simple, but it spoke volumes.

“Let’s just enjoy this,” he said quietly, his gaze steady.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “Okay.”

And as the two of you sat there, the glow of the screen washing over you, you couldn’t help but feel like this was the start of something extraordinary—something worth fighting for, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

[cupidsworstcrime]

FTM!Simon x reader

part 2 of this

smut under the cut

It was just sitting there on the bed. Glossy black silicone, sleek and menacing in its harness. You’d left it out on purpose—half as a tease, half as a very pointed suggestion.

Simon stood in the doorway, arms crossed, sweatpants riding low on his hips, brow furrowed like he was trying to figure out whether to be turned on or to run.

You looked up from where you sat, legs curled under you, playing innocent as hell.

“Hey, Si. Like your present?”

He stared at it like it was alive.

“Dove… that thing’s massive.”

You smirked. Knew he’d say that.

“It’s not that big. You’ve taken my fingers just fine.”

“Your fingers don’t look like they’re gonna split me in half.” His voice cracked on the last word, somewhere between panic and arousal.

You crawled across the bed on all fours, eyes glued to him. Your voice dropped.

“C’mon, Simon. You’re not scared of a little strap, are you?”

He gave you a look. One that said 'this is not little' and also 'I’m thinking about it anyway.'

You reached the edge of the bed, tugged gently on the waistband of his sweats, letting your fingers dip just under his hipbone. Soft, reassuring.

“We go slow. We do it together. I’ll talk you through the whole thing. You trust me, right?”

His breath hitched. He nodded.

“Yeah. I trust you.”

You leaned up, kissed his throat, whispering:

“Then let me wreck you a little, yeah?”

He swallowed thickly, groaned low.

“Fuck. Alright. Just—be gentle. Or I swear to God I’m gonna end up cryin’ into the mattress.”

“I want you crying into the mattress,” you purred.

Simon groaned again, louder this time—half mortified, half turned the hell on.

“You’re evil.”

You kissed him, slow and deep, before murmuring against his lips:

“But you’re gonna let me fuck you anyway.”

You had him on his back, legs spread, pillows under his hips—propped up and exposed, flushed all over. His hair was a mess, cheeks red, lips parted in soft gasps as you trailed your fingers along his thighs, coaxing his body open inch by inch.

The strap was still sitting on the nightstand. Not forgotten, just... waiting.

Your fingers moved slowly through his slick, teasing soft little circles around his clit before slipping lower, pressing in with that practiced confidence he trusted. He whimpered, hips twitching up into your touch.

“Fuck,” he muttered, arm thrown over his eyes. “Feels—fuckin’ good, dovie. But I swear, that thing’s still huge…”

You leaned over, kissed up his stomach, his chest, his jaw.

“You’re already taking my fingers so easy, baby,” you whispered. “You’re gonna take all of me. Nice and slow. Just like this.”

You curled your fingers just right and his whole body shuddered.

“God—shit—don’t stop.”

You didn’t. You worked him open with the kind of patience that made it better than fast could ever be—scissoring gently, sliding in a third finger, stretching him while you kissed his throat and praised him between every panting moan.

“So fucking tight. So good for me. Look at you—taking it like you need to be ruined.”

Simon groaned, biting his lip, eyes fluttering open to meet yours.

“I do need it.”

That was all the green light you needed.

You pulled your fingers out slowly, slick and glistening, then turned to reach for the harness.

Simon’s breath hitched again watching you buckle it on. That thick black strap rising between your thighs made him press his own together instinctively.

You knelt between his legs, running the tip slowly through his folds, teasing, not pushing in yet—just watching his face twist in anticipation.

“You ready, Si?”

He nodded once, hard, both hands gripping the sheets like he was preparing for war.

“Yeah. Fuck—just do it.”

You leaned down, kissed him slow, deep, and guiding the head of the strap to his entrance, you whispered:

“I got you. You’re mine, Simon. Gonna take care of you.”

And as you started to press in, inch by inch, his breath stuttered—and he moaned, low and desperate, like he’d just been split open with love and lust all at once.

You hovered over Simon, both of you trembling with anticipation as the strap slid against his slickness. The air was thick with the quiet sound of his breath, shaky and unsure, and the faint sound of your own heartbeat in your ears. Your hands shook just a little, but it wasn’t fear—it was desire. The kind that made everything slow and deliberate, every movement carefully planned. You wanted this to be perfect. You wanted him to trust you completely.

“You’re gonna feel so full, Si,” you whispered, lips brushing against his ear. “So fucking good.”

Simon squeezed his eyes shut and nodded, a tight, trembling breath escaping him as you pressed the head of the strap against his entrance, just teasing him.

“You’re ready, baby. Trust me.”

His hips jerked slightly in response, but he stayed still otherwise—waiting, needing this to happen. You guided your hips forward, just an inch, and he gasped, his body quivering beneath you.

“Fuck, dove… it’s… so big.”

You smiled softly, leaning down to kiss him, gentle but firm. His mouth parted as your tongues met, deepening the kiss as you slowly began to press in, inch by inch. Simon’s hands gripped your arms, nails digging in just a little, but you didn’t mind—his body was accepting you in slow, measured waves, his walls clenching, giving way bit by bit as you worked him open.

“I’ve got you,” you reassured, your voice soft but firm, “Just breathe through it.”

He did. Slowly, his breath calming as you pushed forward, inch by inch, the head of the strap finally breaching him, stretching him open. He whimpered softly, his lips parting as his whole body reacted, muscles tensing and then relaxing in waves.

“So good for me, Simon,” you praised, voice thick with desire. “You’re taking it so well.”

You paused for a moment, letting him adjust, giving him space to breathe. You could imagine the feeling of him around the strap was intoxicating—tight, warm, perfect. You waited, watching his face, seeing the way he bit his lip, his eyes flicking to yours, asking for more but needing just a moment to catch his breath.

Finally, he let out a soft, shaky breath, his hips twitching, and whispered, “More.”

That one word was all the encouragement you needed.

You pushed in slowly, carefully, your hips moving just enough to stretch him further, sliding deeper, filling him in ways that made both of you moan, a low, shared sound of pleasure and longing.

“So fucking tight, Simon,” you groaned, finally buried all the way inside him, feeling the way his nails were still digging into you.

Simon’s head fell back into the pillows, eyes closed, breathing shallow as he adjusted, hands sliding down your back to grip your hips. You didn’t move right away, letting him get used to the feeling of being full, of being stretched so wide. But his body was already responding, hips shifting, craving more.

“Move,” he gasped, voice hoarse. “Please—move, love.”

You smiled, your hands finding his waist to steady him as you slowly started to rock your hips, slow and steady. The feeling was so different—so *intimate*—every thrust making Simon gasp, his body shaking in response. His back arched as you slowly slid in and out, each movement just as deliberate as the last, your hands holding him steady, keeping him from breaking.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered again, your voice trembling with the same need that gripped him. “You’re doing so fucking well.”

You picked up the pace slightly, but only just enough to make him feel every inch of you. Simon’s moans were deep and desperate, his hands gripping you tighter with each thrust.

“Fuck—please, harder—please,” Simon begged, his voice cracked and ragged as his hips tried to thrust up against you.

You couldn’t deny him. Not now. Not when he was so desperate, so willing, body trembling with need.

With a low groan, you slammed into him harder, the sound of your bodies meeting, slick and messy, filling the room. Simon cried out, the pleasure starting to overtake him, and you kept pushing him, kept making him feel every inch, your rhythm fast and rough, but still careful enough to let him breathe through it.

“Fuck, you feel so good, fucking greedy cunt... sucking me in,” you panted, hips snapping into his, each thrust driving you both closer to the edge. “You’re taking it so well. So fucking well.”

His body was a wreck under you, gasping, moaning, hands pulling you closer, needing more, his hips lifting to meet every thrust. His eyes were barely open, face flushed with pleasure and desperation.

“Don’ stop—please—” he whimpered, a tangle of moans and breathless pleas.

You reached down, fingers brushing against his clit, and the combination of your thrusts and your touch made Simon break. His body shuddered beneath you as he cried out, cumming hard with a hoarse shout of your name.

You collapsed on top of him, breathless, slick, and spent—despite not being touched yourself—as the two of you held each other through the aftershocks.

For a long while, neither of you moved, your bodies tangled together. Simon’s hands slid up your back, tracing soft patterns, and you leaned down, kissing his forehead, his temple, any place you could reach.

“You okay?” you whispered, voice soft and full of concern.

Simon smiled, breath still shaky, his chest rising and falling beneath you.

“Yeah,” he said with a soft laugh, “I’m better than okay.”

And in that moment, you knew—you had him, and he had you. And this? This was real.

SELF INDULGENT BONUS MWAHAHAHA

The two of you had collapsed back onto the bed after everything—skin still warm and glistening with sweat, limbs tangled lazily under the covers. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the fan and the rhythm of your breathing as you lay beside Simon, both of you coming down from the intensity of the moment.

You were tracing lazy circles on his chest, your fingers slow and soothing, while Simon kept glancing at you, looking at your face with a mix of fondness and something else—something a little unsure.

After a few beats, he cleared his throat, his voice low and soft. You looked up, meeting his eyes, sensing the slight tension in his posture as he fidgeted a little.

“Hey, uh… dovie?”

You lifted an eyebrow, giving him a soft smile. “What’s up, Si?”

He bit his lip, shifting a little, as if he were weighing his words carefully. It was endearing, how shy he was about this, especially after everything you’d shared.

“Next time…” He trailed off, eyes flicking between yours, not quite meeting them fully. “Can I, uh… Can I top?”

The words hung in the air, tentative but full of something real—desire, curiosity, and a bit of vulnerability.

You smiled, a soft, warm grin spreading across your face as you shifted closer, lifting his chin gently so he was forced to look at you.

“You want to top me?”

Simon nodded, just a bit, his cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Yeah. I mean… If yer okay with it. I just… I dunno. I think I’d like to try.”

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, before meeting his gaze with an expression that was full of reassurance.

“I’m so okay with it, Simon. You can do whatever you want. We’re a team. You’ll be amazing.” You smiled, the promise in your voice soft but firm. “It’s all about what you need, baby. I’m not going anywhere. I trust you.”

He blinked at you, eyes softening with relief, the tension leaving his body as he smiled shyly back at you. His hand reached up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Really? You mean tha'?”

You nodded, brushing your lips over his for a quick kiss.

“Of course, Si. I want you to feel good too. We’ll go slow—whenever you're ready.”

Simon exhaled like he’d been holding his breath, his shoulders relaxing as he pulled you into a soft, tight embrace, his lips pressed to your neck.

“Thanks, dove… I’ll make sure it’s worth it.”

And in that moment, with his arms wrapped around you and his body pressed close, you knew—whatever happened next, you'd both be exploring this together. And that was more than enough.

can you blame me for wanting to fuck the big man??? bottom Simon bottom Simon bottom Simon bottom Simon bottom Simon bottom Simon bottom Simon bottom Simon bottom Simon bottom Simon bottom Simon bottom Si-

PART 3