#anyways thank you so much for the request!!!!

[norristeria]

hi! i saw your requests for text aus are open so how about one where lando is jealous? love your work xx

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY!

━━ IN WHICH LANDO IS NOT HAPPY TO SEE YOU LAUGHING WITH ANOTHER MAN.

PAIRING ❦ Lando Norris x Girlfriend! FemReader

TAGS ❦ Fluff ( bordering on crack )

NOTE ❦ Soli tries not to mention Beyoncé and fails once again. Anyway, this is so unserious but so much fun! It's my first time doing one of these⏤hope you'll like it ( and thank you so much for requesting this! ) <33

[zorostitties]

Intertwined; 2

⤕ Luffy and you were like two sides of the same coin: opposites in every way, but similar in what mattered the most. Tied by a vow made with the purity of a child's heart, life keeps trying to tear you apart - but the vow that intertwined your destinies would not be broken so easily. Or, Luffy promised to marry you someday when you were kids. This is how he keeps his promise.

pairing: monkey d. luffy x (f) reader

genre: childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, arranged marriage, fluff, angst, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, toxic family relationships, death/grief, when i say slow burn i mean it

rating: 18+

word count: 7k

A/N: HELLO YALL 💋 I can't stress enough how excited I am about this fic - and it's only beginning. Thank everyone that left comments on the first chapter!! I still have to make a proper playlist for this fic BUT a little song rec - I listened to Stay With Me from Miki Matsubara while writing this chapter!! kinda cliche but it makes me feel nostalgic and those are the correct vibes for this one. 🤓 Enjoy <3

⤕  Masterlist  ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Taglist open!

➛ 9

One year, zero failures.

Twenty five commissions. Millions of berries in profit to the Scarpia safes.

And finally – five days of freedom.

In the Scarpia family, you couldn’t ask for things. You negotiated. Everything was transactional; that was the soul of the business. To get something, you must give something in return. Different things had different prices.

The cost of your little unsupervised vacation was absolute and obedient hard work. No more running away, no more slacking off, no complaining… instead, improving in every area that mattered to be a better assassin. You took commissions, excelled in training and tests, attended Landon’s classes without fail.

All so you could get what you wanted on your birthday.

It wasn’t an expensive request, but you knew that it costed much more than anything your brothers ever asked for – much more than Urso’s cannon that was exclusive to Marine warships, Saqr’s golden armor armor or Crowley’s actual warship with a full crew. Five days of being away, not being followed by anyone from the family, no questions asked? That was a lot. And so, the price to pay for that was high.

But you payed anyway. Payed splendidly. So your father had to honor the deal.

And finally, after a year, there you were climbing Mt. Colubo again.

You were excitedly making your way up the hill – running, to be honest. It wasn’t hard to remember the specific hill you agreed to meet; you had an awfully good memory for some reason. Your heart beat faster with each step in both excitement and worry. What if he forgot about you? What if he missed the date? You didn’t know where Luffy lived, so you wouldn’t know where to meet him – and it’d take days to scoop the area after him.

What if he simply didn’t care?

The thought made you nauseous.

Well, if he didn’t show up, you still had a mountain to explore and money to rent a room in the city–

The wind brought an unknown voice to your ears.

Your instincts jumped, took control of your body. You immediately hid behind a bush, crouching down, and waited.

“...tired of this!” A young male voice. A boy’s voice. “We’ve been waiting since morning! I swear, if you’re trying to prank me, I’ll kick you off that cliff...”

Then, another boy’s voice – and your eyes immediately widened. You knew that high pitched whine.

“It’s not a prank, Ace! I said I’d be waiting right here, I can’t leave!”

“Yeah, right. Waiting for your imaginary friend.”

“I’m not imagining anything!” An uneasy groan. “Though maybe I missed the date… has it really been a year? She is taking too long…”

“Tsk. I’m sick of this. I’m heading back…”

“No! Wait!”

You got up and sprinted up the hill.

“Luffy!” Your voice cracked a bit while screaming his name… still not used to screaming. One hand kept gripping the strap of the backpack while the other waved excitedly.

And there he was.

The stretchy boy hadn’t changed a thing. Same hair, same height, same scar under his left eye, a bandaid on a different place this time – his forehead –, same battered up straw hat that was still too big for his head, jeans shorts and a blue tank top…

And same grin, big big grin, that appeared as soon as he spotted you… except he was missing his front tooth now.

“Wolfie!” He yelled. Who the hell–? Oh, right. That’s the name I made up. “You came!”

You had almost reached them when Luffy decided to engulf you in a hug.

...You were also not used to hugs and sudden proximity. The part of you that had been sharpened like a blade had the instinct to crush his trachea with the side of your hand. No no no, these are my five days of vacation. No business thinking! You made the conscious effort to push that part away, to lock it in a dark vault inside of your brain, a vault with a very complicated password. No bloodthirst. No kill intent.

So you just hugged him back instead and giggled excitedly.

Luffy then stepped away and grinned mischievously at that other boy.

He stepped behind you and put both hands over your shoulders as if presenting you like an item. “See? You seeing this? Is this imaginary? Call me a liar again, come on! C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, I dare you!”

You scanned each other in silence.

This guy was definitely a few years older than Luffy and you. His black wavy hair fell over his forehead, his tanned skin was peppered with freckles. Like Luffy, his brown eyes were so dark that they almost looked black. He wore shorts, an orange tank top, elbow pads, and held a steel pipe… what was that for?

He was much, much more judgmental than Luffy.

And apparently smarter, too.

Luffy walked to your side.

“This one’s my big brother Ace!” He presented.

You were immediately taken aback. Of course, you remembered how Luffy kept talking about someone called Ace. But you didn’t expect him to be a brother.

Just because your brothers are awful, doesn’t mean everybody’s are, too.

You managed to open a tight smile.

“My name’s Wolfie. Nice to meet you.”

Ace crossed his arms and measured you from head to toe – and you had to fight the urge to immediately despise him, because that look was familiar. Stop that. You don’t even know him yet. It’s your vacation! Time to have fun!

Luffy tapped your shoulder with the back of his hand. “Ace here kept saying I made you up, can you believe that?”

Ace side eyed Luffy with a frown. “You can’t blame me. The whole story sounded suspicious.” He focused on you again and tilted his head to the side. “The hell are you from?”

He carefully analyzed your outfit and backpack. Your clothes weren’t exactly fancy: you wore the standard Scarpia children “uniform”, which was basically a white button shirt, a black pleated skirt and the black blazer with the red scorpion on it (you had quickly gotten rid of that family crest from your clothes, however). You brothers, much obviously, wore pants instead of the skirt, but other than that, it was all the same.

You would have picked something different if you weren’t in such a hurry to get to the Dawn Island as fast as possible. Luckily, the last commission was already at some insignificant island of the East Blue – you picked it on purpose -, but the travel still took a days time. You still had to wait until the clock hit midnight to hop on a ship and head to the island (you couldn’t risk making your way with Landon nearby).

But anyway – your whole appearance was very obviously of a foreigner. A well lived foreigner. You couldn’t lie to two locals that you were from High Town, and you had already told Luffy you lived far.

Luckily, you had everything planned.

“Loguetown,” you announced. Ace seemed a bit surprised for some reason.

Big fat lie, obviously.

You’d been to Loguetown once or twice. It wasn’t that interesting of a place despite the mystique around it. Regardless, it was still a pretty big city and an acceptable answer: far, but not too far. Not too suspicious.

Ace quirked one eyebrow up. “...That’s far. What brings you to Mt. Colubo of all places?”

You shrugged. “My father visits the Goa Kingdom once a year because of his business and I like to come along.”

“You like to climb a mountain on your own.”

“I like animals and insects. I catalog them.”

“She draws pretty well. I mean, not better than me, but–“

“The mountain with the giant dangerous animals.” Ace cut Luffy off without taking his eyes off you.

“Yeah, that’s why this place is interesting.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “What’s the problem with that?”

“The problem is that this doesn’t make any sense.”

“What? You think a girl can’t take care of herself?”

“That’s not what I mean–“

“How are you alive? Luffy ate a Devil Fruit, so I get it, but how about you?”

Luffy looked between you and Ace like a ping pong ball coming and going.

And Ace looked very offended.

“What–?! I’m a hundred times stronger than Luffy!”

“Hey!”

“Don’t change the subject!” Ace once again ignored Luffy and pointed his finger at you. “I don’t know how a rich brat like you is even alive in here!”

You let an annoyed groan past your lips and tightened your fists. What an insufferable guy!

But then, you narrowed your eyes and refrained from arguing more. I didn’t come here to argue with anyone. I came here to play with Luffy.

A smug smirk grew on your lips. You held both straps of the backpack and took a small step back.

Then – you sprinted.

It made the wind howl, the trees sway. You had time to hear a satisfying gasp from both of them, but especially from the oh-so-annoying Ace.

In the blink of an eye, you were standing on the lower branch of a tree nearby.

“This is how.” You announced to a shocked Ace while smiling.

Luffy laughed.

He hopped excitedly and shook his arms. “I told you, see?! I told you, I told you!” The straw hat boy then looked at you with a defiant grin and fire in his eyes. “I said I’d be even faster this time!”

“Then prove it!” Now you were the one hopping excitedly. “You’re it!”

Luffy laughed and launched his weird stretched arm in your direction. You deflected him and jumped to another tree.

Ace stood there, still a bit shocked, and watched as you and Luffy chased each other through the trees. Both of you were noisy. Both of you disturbed the small animals like birds and squirrels, made branches shake violently, making a rain of leaves fall over his head. He heard a succession of tag! You’re it! before you said it one last time.

And then he spotted Luffy smiling devilishly at him like a gremlin.

“Are you just gonna stand there?!”

Ace took a step back and sent him a warning glare.

“Luffy, don’t you dare–”

Smack.

“You’re it!”

“I’m gonna kill you!”

Straw hat boy just laughed.

There were three kids disturbing the small fauna now.

“Have you ever eaten crocodile meat?” Luffy asked.

You shook your head. “Not that I remember.”

He smiled. “It’s soooo good. You’re gonna love it. Uh, now I’m hungry…”

“When are you not hungry, Luffy?” Ace side eyed you. “I’m surprised you didn’t want to hunt with us… since you’re soooooo good at everything.”

You shrugged.

Yes. It’s true that you decided to just stand near the river and watch them hunt the crocodile. Not because you couldn’t help them, but because it felt… wrong.

The crocodile was huge. Two times bigger than a cow, maybe. It was now wrapped in ropes as the two boys carried it above their heads towards their home. You’d never seen a crocodile this big, and that’s why you hesitated. Were there even that many crocodiles around?

“I feel bad for it.” You admitted quietly.

The two boys looked at you like you were insane.

“What? You don’t eat meat?!” Luffy seemed flabbergasted.

“I bet you don’t feel bad about cows or chickens,” Ace was much more defensive.

You just sighed and crossed your arms. “That’s not what I mean… whatever. Yes, I do eat meat.” You looked up at the huge animal for a few seconds. “Can I at least sketch it before you cook it?”

“Why would you wanna do that?”

“I already said that I catalog animals.”

“Weirdo.”

You wanted to punch Ace.

“Hey, hey, Wolfie, what’s your favorite food?” Luffy asked.

You held your chin and looked up. “Hmm… crab legs. I think.” Luffy hummed in response. “Or spicy noodles.” He hummed again. “Anything spicy, to be honest.”

It wasn’t without a reason. Your mother was a poison specialist. She made you and your brothers take small dosages of different types of poison not only to be able to recognize it, but to resist it. Turns out one of her poisons burned your taste buds and food became tasteless for months – until you ate a very very spicy pepper from Dressrosa and went oh, I can actually feel the taste of this. Your taste buds had healed, but your liking for spicy food stayed.

You weren’t going to tell them that, though.

“Never seen a girl that likes pepper,” Ace quirked his eyebrow up, clearly questioning you.

“You don’t know that many girls, do you?”

Ace blushed for some reason, but still looked annoyed. “Listen here, you brat–!”

He was interrupted by a growl.

You thought it was a savage animal nearby at first, but the sound was coming from too close…

It was Luffy’s rumbling belly.

“Ugh… I want to eat…” He tilted his head to the side as if he was suffering. “Crab legs… noodles… pepper…”

“You can’t take spicy food, Luffy,” Ace murmured.

“Yes, I can!”

They started arguing and you just watched in silence.

It was… interesting.

They bantered a lot. They punched each other and argued over silly things. Ace usually won most of the fights and arguments. However… you didn’t see genuine anger in his eyes not even once. You didn’t hear genuine insults meant to hurt. It was all silly, superficial – and they always got over it two minutes after it happened.

You wondered if that’s how siblings usually acted.

No. Don’t think of Urso or Crowley or Saqr… that’s not what you came here for.

So you looked ahead and spotted something, which caused you to stop on your tracks.

“Oh!” That caught their attention. “You guys have a tree house?”

It was well hidden in between the branches, but there was definitely a tree house some meters away at the top of an especially tall tree. The wooden structure looked a bit precarious and perhaps even abandoned, yet it immediately picked your interest.

“Did you guys build it?”

Luffy blinked and looked uneasy for some reason. “Huh…”

“It looks pretty cool!” An excited smile appeared on your lips. You gripped the straps of the backpack, ready to run. “I want to see it!”

“Wait, Wolfie–“ Luffy tried to warn you. Which was weird, because Luffy never tried to warn you about anything, so at that moment, you didn’t pay attention to him.

You were running towards the tree.

That’s when Ace yelled “No!”

The ground shook when he dropped the heavy crocodile. In the blink of an eye, Ace was towering in front of you, both of his arms extended to block your passage.

You froze on your tracks.

He… he looked angry.

“You’re not allowed to go there!”

His stance and his voice would’ve triggered normal you’s aggression. But that part of you was locked inside the vault – so all you did was widen your eyes at him.

“But it’s just a tree house,” you tried. That made him angrier for some reason.

“Do not get anywhere near that place!”

Luffy stepped closer, frowning. “Hey, Ace, you don’t need to get so angry–“

Ace turned his attention to him. “If you take her there, I will never talk to you again! Got it?!”

Luffy himself was surprised.

The oldest boy sent a last menacing gaze towards you before taking the crocodile on his own and marching ahead.

You just stood there, too shocked to say anything, for long seconds. Luffy sent you an apologetic look; it seems he didn’t know what to do, either.

...All older brothers are assholes, I guess.

Meeting Luffy’s “family” made you understand him (and Ace) much more.

Their house was deep inside the forest, in the middle of a large clearing. It was a big one-story house with a lookout, though it looked precarious. Many voices came from inside it.

The two boys announced that they had brought dinner. A couple of men wearing white turbans came from inside the house to check it. None of them seemed impressed that the kids killed a monster crocodile, which could only mean that wasn’t unusual. You stood there awkwardly for a while. No one seemed bothered by your presence.

That is, until a big ginger woman came out of the house.

Her hair was long and curly. She wore a white blouse, checkered green pants, a necklace made of red round beads and boots. She had two cigarettes (?) between her lips and the ferocious eyes that could only belong to a leader.

The woman immediately started scolding Luffy and Ace with why’d you take so long?! or which of you used all the sugar?! and your clothes are stinky, you better wash it before tomorrow! and you have to clean all the mess you made! and don’t you dare talk back like that, brat! and I will kick your ass if you don’t watch that tone! and then she finally laid her eyes on you.

She blinked.

You blinked.

“Hi.” You sent her a small wave. “My name is–

“LUFFY AND ACE KIDNAPPED A CITY GIRL!!”

It was like everyone finally noticed your presence at that moment.

The men gasped and gathered around you. The ginger woman fumed like a chimney – and suddenly everything became noisy noisy noisy, with everyone showing different levels of outrage.

“What a horrible thing to do-nii!” Said a short guy wearing a pink polka dotted overall who seemed to be already panicking.

“You guys really crossed the line this time!” Said another tall guy with a brown mustache and a weird wattle on the top of his head, looking at Ace and Luffy disapprovingly.

The woman grabbed the two buys by their collars and lifted them from the ground like they weighed nothing.

“You little psychopaths! This girl’s from High Town, ain’t she?! Why’d you bring her here?! You wanna get us all killed?!”

“What are you–“ Ace grunted, grabbing her wrist. “Talking about, crazy old woman?!”

“We didn’t kidnap anyone!” Luffy screamed. “She’s Wolfie and she’s my friend!”

“Friend?! Don’t make me laugh! Why would a little girl get into the woods like that–“

“Miss.”

She finally stopped to look down when you touched her arm softly.

“They’re not lying. I’m on vacation and came to visit Luffy.”

Silence.

She quirked her eyebrow at you with distrust.

“Where’re your parents?”

“In the city.”

“Where will you stay? It’s almost sundown, there’s not enough time to reach the city before night comes.”

You slipped the backpack to only one shoulder and shoved your hand inside the small pocket.

“I was wondering if I could stay here for two or three days…” You finally showed her what you were looking for – and earned a collective gasp. “...If you don’t mind, of course.”

A wad of cash.

She put the two boys down slowly.

The woman took it from your much smaller hand and removed the rubber band, counting the berries rapidly.

She then looked at you again – and for a moment, it looked like it’d take some more convincing–

But she grinned.

“Of course, darling!” She crouched down to come closer to your eye level – and all of sudden, the aggressiveness and distrust and even the wrinkle between her eyebrows were gone. She was all smiles and blushes and it was like flowers were floating around her head. Even her voice became sweet like honey. “Of course, why wouldn’t we take such a cutie in?! My name’s Dadan. We’ll take care of whatever you need!”

And then all the other grown men were smiling sweetly and blushing too, and the flowers multiplied. You heard I’ll prepare you a bedroom! and I’ll cook you a great dinner! and I can make you cute dresses– wait, why do you know how to make dresses?!

Such a drastic change.

Well. One thing you knew from the world of the adults is that there were just a few things money couldn’t buy.

Ace side eyed you with a frown. Luffy didn’t seem to mind and didn’t seem upset at Dadan despite what she just did.

“Hey, hey, Wolfie–“ He tapped your arm many times. “There are a loooot of beetles around here! And scorpions too! And–“

“Didn’t you said you wanted to draw the crocodile or whatever?” Ace interrupted with somewhat of a pout. “You better do it now before we skin it. I don’t wanna have dinner late because of you.” The older boy walked away with his hands inside the front pockets of his shorts.

“Right.” You nodded. Luffy’s shoulders dropped.

“You’re gonna sit down and draw now? That’s boring! I wanna play!”

“It won’t take that long this time,” you explained while searching for the sketchbook inside of your backpack. Luffy pouted.

You sat down on the grass and quickly started sketching the crocodile’s head from the side. You’d have to check on your Reptile Encyclopedia if this species was already cataloged… you hadn’t brought that book with you – it was way too heavy – and that’s why taking as many details as possible was necessary, so you could compare the drawing with the book images back home.

Meanwhile, everything was noisy behind you.

Luffy, Ace, Dadan, the other guys… they all made a lot of noise. A lot of insults and arguments… but a lot of laughter, too. All that noise wasn’t bothersome. In fact, it was much more comfortable than the mortifying silence that always hovered inside the Scarpia mansion.

You finished the sketch quickly and left everything aside to play with Luffy – and from there, time seemed to run. You played catch and played with a ball and played with a white dog that lived there. You rolled on the grass and jumped rope and played on a tire swing until it made Luffy feel nauseous. You raced too many times to keep count and taught Luffy each different species of bugs you saw inside the forest (though he didn’t remember anything a second after you finished speaking). And then suddenly your clothes were dirty and you were tired but you didn’t mind at all, because that tiredness didn’t hurt.

Finally it was time to have dinner – and the amount of food they cooked was a bit absurd, but everything smelled great. Everyone gathered to eat after bathing and changing clothes. Luffy was quite literally drooling.

“Let the guest eat first, brat!” Dadan reprimanded Luffy with a punch in his head when he tried to grab a piece of meat. You quickly filled your plate with rice, meat and a bit of salad before someone else could complain.

“That’s not fair,” Ace whined with a frown. “Why don’t we get this type of treatment? You never make this many side dishes.”

Dadan glared at him with fire in her eyes. “Because you’re not full of mone– I-I mean, because you’re not a cute, polite girl! Work on your manners first before you get special treatment!”

They started arguing.

You ate from your plate in peace. Luffy filled plate after plate after plate and for a moment you wondered if that giant crocodile was enough to satisfy him. There was a lot of noise, still. They talked loud. Yet, in your silence, you could still see that same thing from before. They argued and cussed at each other, but you couldn’t hear genuine anger or contempt or the will to hurt. Even Dadan who seemed the harshest of them all had that underlying care in her gaze, though you doubted Luffy or Ace could see it too.

Everything made your heart feel surprisingly at ease.

And made you feel something else too – but it was small and irritating, so you decided to brush it off.

“Hey, Ace, you’re losing to Luffy on something, huh?” That guy with a mustache – was his name Magura? – said at some point. He had a suspicious smile and light blush over his cheeks.

Both boys stopped eating for a second and went Huh?

Magura blinked prettily.

“Your younger brother got a girlfriend first than you. You better work on that!”

A room full of grown men giggled. Ace blushed furiously and started cussing.

You and Luffy looked at each other at the same time.

He blinked.

You blinked.

You both scowled like you’d eaten a very sour lemon.

“EEEW!!”

“Where are we going now?” You asked as soon as you stepped out of the house.

The morning smelled like dew, sap and damp soil. There were no clouds to cover the bluest sky you’d ever seen. Multiple birds chirped their melody, and you felt tempted to try to recognize the different species, but you wouldn’t have time.

Luffy had invited you to go somewhere.

“You said it was a party?”

The straw hat boy grinned. “Yeah! A birthday party for the Mayor! Makino throws a party for him every year. She bakes cake and a bunch of sweets!”

You followed him shortly, starting to feel a little excited. That was when you spotted Ace leaning on a tree nearby with his arms crossed. He looked… upset.

Luffy seemed to hesitate for a second.

“I’m going down to Foosha now, Ace!” He announced.

The other boy just shrugged in response.

That was… weird.

Luffy started to run, so you quickened your pace to catch up to him. His hat flew from his head and swayed with the wind while trapped by that thin rope around his neck. Soon, the house and the clearing were left behind.

“We can get to Foosha Village quicker using this trail,” Luffy explained. You nodded and kept silent for some moments while he yapped about cake flavors.

But your curiosity got the best of you.

“Luffy.”

“Hm?”

“Why isn’t Ace coming with us?” Luffy visibly stiffened. “Is he that angry at me?”

The straw hat boy coughed as if he had choked on something.

“He… huh… h-he’s not angry at you!”

“Why isn’t he coming, then?”

“Huh… hmmm…”

You watched very closely as sweat dripped down his forehead, his cheeks got flushed, his eyes very consciously averted from yours, a pout formed on his lips.

He almost looked constipated.

“H-He… he said he’s not a kid anymore to attend birthday parties!” Luffy looked extremely proud of himself for coming up with this answer. “Boring guy, isn’t he? Anyway, I bet you can’t get to that tree faster than me! Three-two-one-go!!”

He sprinted down the trail before you could get ready, making a cloud of dust on his way. You narrowed your eyes slowly.

That morning, you learned that Luffy was a terrible liar.

Foosha Village was about what you already expected – small with not much interesting going on. Not many houses, not many establishments, not that many people. The village port was small with only a few ships docked. The sea that surrounded Dawn Island was of a gorgeous blue, so calm that it could be mistaken by the waters of the Calm Belt.

Partys Bar faced this beautiful scenery.

Luffy stormed in unceremoniously and ran to the arms of a young woman of dark green hair – was that the Makino he talked about?

“Luffy!” She said sweetly while embracing him. “You came early!”

“The earlier we get, the more food we eat!” He giggled before leaning away.

Her eyes quickly found you. “And who is this little princess right here?”

Your cheeks got warm.

What did she just call me?!

“A friend of mine!” Luffy presented. “I brought her to eat cake!”

Makino chuckled. “Well, you two will have to wait, then. The cake’s still baking and I haven’t finished the decorations yet. Care to help me with this?”

You certainly didn’t care.

Makino brought an old box with decorations: ribbons, balloons, confetti and more. You sat on the bar stool and busied yourself with filling the balloons while her and Luffy glued the colorful tapes and little flags around the bar walls. His Devil Fruit ability came in handy in situations like this.

It was weird, this feeling you had. Unusual. The sound of the waves crashing not far from there. Trees swaying with the oceanic breeze. Chatter coming from the street. Luffy’s laughter and Makino’s sweet voice.

It was peaceful.

So peaceful that you felt your shoulders relaxing. For the first time, the “sonar” within you that kept constantly looking for potential danger was down. Yes, you knew that was wrong; it was against everything you’d ever learned. Never let your guard down.

But Landon wasn’t there. Nor your father or your mother. Crowley wasn’t hiding somewhere with a knife waiting for an opportunity to stab you. Saqr and his hound dogs weren’t anywhere near. Urso wouldn’t try to squeeze you to death… and you weren’t completing a commission, either.

You never thought you’d like to keep that part of you inside the vault, but turns out your life became pretty quiet when it happened.

Some kids entered the bar at some point. You couldn’t tell if Luffy already knew them, but they talked excitedly. Soon, they were outside on the street, playing.

You wondered for a second if you should join them, but Makino approached.

“That’s enough balloons, thank you.” She smiled softly. “Care to help me with something else?”

She guided you behind the counter into the kitchen. The place was filled with a delicious sweet smell of the cake baking inside the oven. Other than that, there were plenty of other snacks over the table at the center: some of them were obviously sweets, some looked deep fried.

“I couldn’t finish rolling the brigadeiros. The Mayor always asks for them,” she explained while walking towards the counter where a pan rested. “If I asked Luffy to come, he’d eat everything instead of helping.”

“He would.” You nodded and frowned slightly. “But… what’s a brigadeiro?”

Makino quirked an eyebrow. “You’re not from here, are you? If you don’t know what a brigadeiro is.”

Well. You couldn’t tell if you didn’t know what that was because you weren’t from the area of because you’d never been to a birthday party before – a normal one, at least. Maybe people ate this brigadeiro thing on the Grand Line, too. Who knows?

You repeated your lie, but decided to leave the Loguetown name behind. Perhaps Makino knew that it was also a common snack at that city, which would raise more questions.

After washing your hands, she proceeded to explain what to do.

“First, you have to coat your palms with butter so it slides easily… then, you take a bit of the chocolate dough from the pan with the spoon. It doesn’t need to be much. And then… you just roll it with your hands… until it becomes a little ball. This size is okay. See? Now you just dip it in the chocolate sprinkles and it’s done.”

It wasn’t a difficult task – and Makino was kind enough to let you eat some. After you picked up the pace, she let you do it on your own and went to take care of something else in the kitchen.

You couldn’t help but take glances at her from time to time.

Makino was delicate. The scarf wrapped around her hair matched with her long skirt; the thin pearl necklace also matched with her pearl earrings. She was agile in everything she did and sweet with her words. And that was also unusual.

Your mother – the only female reference you had – was the complete opposite of Makino. She was older, of course, but the differences didn’t stop there. Your mother was beautiful, too, and extremely elegant. But she was also cold. Distant. Black instead of colorful. Reprimands instead of compliments. Makino smelled of candy; Scilla Scarpia smelled of poison.

That made you feel a bit sad for some reason.

“What?” She asked at some point, and you realized you had been staring for some time. You stiffened.

“...Your earrings are very pretty, miss.”

Makino opened a wide smile and approached. “Do you want them?”

“W-What?”

“I have many earrings… these would look cute on you.” She narrowed her eyes and leaned closer. “Oh! How come you don’t have your ears pierced?”

You didn’t. You also weren’t used to wearing necklaces or bracelets or hair clips… nothing flashy or colorful. Your face was almost always hidden behind a white wolf mask anyway, so why worry about your appearance?

“I can pierce your ears later,” Makino offered. “But it hurts a little bit. Do you want it?”

At the same time… why not worry about your appearance?

A sudden smile and unexpected excitement bubbled within your chest. “Yes!”

The bar was packed a few hours later.

There were mostly kids. Conversation and laughter filled the air. Your ears stung a little bit, but you didn’t mind; you were too busy playing. Makino decided that it was time to congratulate the Mayor, so everyone gathered around a table to celebrate.

The Mayor himself – a short guy wearing a bucket hat, glasses and a colorful shirt – came to stand in front of the cake. After lighting the candles, they all clapped and sang happy birthday to you.

You looked around while everyone was too focused on the birthday man.

So many smiles. So much excitement and care. Little flags on the ceiling, colorful ribbons, balloons, a big Happy Birthday sign on the wall behind the Mayor. Everybody in that room knew him, all of them took their time to come to the bar and celebrate. Was he feeling appreciated? Was he happy and grateful?

His smile told you that he was.

Yesterday was your birthday, you remembered.

No one in the bar knew. Not even Luffy. You wouldn’t try to tell him and steal the moment. So, while you clapped and sang along, you silently pretended that it was all for you. It was silly and inappropriate, but you did it anyway. You pretended for a little over a minute that your birthday was filled with sweets and cakes and kids around your age to play with and music and laughter.

When the Mayor blew the candles, you silently wished it would be you in that place someday.

The moment was over soon. Slices of cake were distributed. Chocolate cake with strawberries. It tasted amazing. Makino had to stand near the cake to prevent Luffy from eating everything by himself.

The kids went out to play again. You followed, leaving this small moment of sorrow behind.

“Hurry up, you two. I don’t want to see you climbing up that mountain in the dark.” There were still a few hours left until sunset, but Makino was right. You had eaten more than what your stomach could take and tired your legs from running around so much.

Makino handed you a picnic basket: it had slices of cake, brigadeiros, coxinhas (which was something else you had never eaten before – a crispy fried snack in a teardrop shape filled with shredded chicken) and sandwiches. “These are for Ace and the others. I’m glad you’re here to carry it, because Luffy would end up eating everything on the way if I gave it to him.”

“Hey!”

She giggled and leaned down to hug Luffy. When Makino leaned away, she lowered her voice, but you could still hear very well when she said: “Tell Ace I’ll go see him tomorrow, okay?”

She then approached and hugged you. “Don’t forget to clean your ears with alcohol everyday.” Makino touched the pearl earrings softly and smiled. “You do look very cute with them!”

Your cheeks felt hot again. For whatever reason.

After waving your goodbyes, there you were making your way into the forest.

Luffy didn’t feel like running, which was a bit of a miracle. Even him could get tired… and you were thankful, because like that, he couldn’t run away from you.

You waited until you were out of the village to start.

“Luffy.”

“Huh?”

“Why didn’t Ace come?”

He stiffened again.

“Y-You already asked that, didn’t you? And I already answered.”

“I don’t buy it. There must be another reason.” You approached him until your shoulders bumped. “Come ooooon. I won’t tell anyone.”

Luffy made that weird constipated face again and crossed his arms. “I… huh… I don’t know! I have no idea! Hah!”

“I’m great at keeping secrets! You can trust me!”

“Seriously, I don’t know anything!” But he was sweating again and avoiding your gaze so much that his eyeballs were almost rolling inside his skull, so it meant it was time to play dirty.

You shoved your hand inside the basket and put a coxinha in front of his face.

His eyes widened.

“I’ll give it to you if you tell me.”

Luffy gasped.

He froze, his fingers trembled, his mouth drooled. It looked like he was facing the biggest challenge of his life. The coxinha smelled amazing. It was still warm and shining golden in its crispy fried glory.

For a second, it looked like he was raising his hands to grab it – and you were ready to sing victory.

But Luffy tapped his foot on the ground and whipped his head to the side aggressively.

“No!”

It was your turn to gasp.

Was it so serious that Luffy couldn’t even be bribed with food to tell the truth? That was surprising.

Admitting defeat, you put the snack inside the basket again and went back to walking. “Okay, then.”

You heard Luffy whine behind you and the tap tap of his sandals fast approaching again. “But we could eat one of them, right? They would never know.”

“You can’t eat just one. You’ll want the whole thing.”

“Nooo, I’m serious!” He brought both hands close to his face in a praying position and looked at you with round, begging eyes. “Just one? Please? Please? Please?”

You hesitated before admitting defeat for the second time that day.

“Just one.” Luffy giggled excitedly. “Eat slowly ‘cause it’s really gonna be the only one!”

He took one. You took one.

You chewed in silence.

This coxinha was another secret you’d have to keep. Another lie.

Luffy was a terrible liar. It looked like he couldn’t lie to save his life. Meanwhile, lying to you was easy… it was part of the job – sometimes you’d have to go undercover, and to get info on a target, you’d have to lie your way in. You were also used to lying to avoid punishments. It wasn’t hard to come up with something on the spot. Believable lies, sometimes only twisting the truth a bit to get what you wanted.

You lied to everybody here. All of these kind people that had been nothing but honest to you. All of these people calling you by a name that wasn’t truly yours. Wolfie this, Wolfie that… but Wolfie didn’t exist.

No one should see your face. No one should know your name.

But would you ever be able to make a real friend behind this mask of lies?

You wanted Luffy to be a real friend.

So you swallowed and gathered some courage.

“Luffy.”

“Hmm?” His mouth was full.

“I have a secret to tell you.” He seemed mildly interested. “‘Wolfie’ is not my name.”

You gave him your real name quietly – almost as if there was a possibility of someone else hearing it nearby. You decided to leave your last name behind. That would be too risky.

Luffy repeated your name. You nodded. He quirked an eyebrow. “So what?”

“I’m not from Loguetown. I’m not even from the East Blue.”

Luffy narrowed his eyes slowly, finally fully interested. “And why’d you lie?”

You pressed your lips and debated for a second if this was the right thing to do… but Landon wasn’t here, or anyone from your family, and the only thing with ears nearby was a squirrel and a couple of birds.

So you continued.

“I’m an assassin.”

You held your breath and waited for Luffy’s reaction.

He could laugh at your face and say you were lying. He could scowl and run away in fear. He could push you down the hill and tell you to never get near his family again.

But Luffy did what you least expected.

...He didn’t react.

At all.

He just kept chewing the coxinha as if you told him what you’re having for dinner.

“Why are you an assassin?” He asked.

“It’s the family business.”

“So your parents are, too?”

“Yeah.”

“And why do they do that?”

“For the money.” You shrugged.

“Hmmm.” He finished eating and rested both hands behind his head. “That’s why you’re rich.”

“Yeah.”

Luffy then frowned as if remembering something.

“Wait. Why’d you feel bad for the crocodile, then?”

That was an interesting question. “...I like animals. They’re irrational. And cute.”

“You think a monster crocodile is cute?”

“Uh-Huh.”

“Weirdo.” He was pretty much imitating what Ace said earlier, but you didn’t mind. “So. Do you like to kill people?”

That was another interesting question. No one had ever asked you that. You hummed and held your chin.

“I don’t like it. But I don’t mind it either. It’s just... work.”

“Sounds pretty boring.”

Your shoulders dropped. “It is boring.”

“So that’s why you’re here?”

He caught things pretty quickly. You nodded, an annoyed knot appearing between your eyebrows. “They don’t let me play. They don’t let me do anything! It’s just work work work, it’s just you have to honor the family or whatever.” Your voice sounded more whiny and bitter at each word. “They never even asked me if I wanted to be part of the business. Not that they have ever asked my opinion on anything.”

Luffy hummed again – but there was something a bit strange about his voice now.

His hat had dropped a bit, casting a shadow over his eyes.

“...You’re like Sabo.” Luffy’s voice was… strangely quiet. You’d never seen him speaking quietly before.

You tilted your head.

“Who’s Sabo?”

“My brother.”

“Really?” Luffy had another brother? You didn’t hear anyone mention that name. “Where is he?”

Luffy dropped his arms from behind his head.

“He… he died.”

That took you by surprise.

“Oh.”

Silence.

You’re like Sabo, Luffy said.

For some reason, you remembered Ace’s aggressiveness towards you… how he didn’t want to let you in that old tree house...

And something clicked.

Did you remind Ace of this dead brother? Was he somehow jealous of your presence… as if you could perhaps assume that empty spot?

You scratched your head and frowned. That didn’t make any sense since, well, you had enough brothers and you hated all of them. Why’d you want to have any more brothers? That’s not what you came here for. Ace was a few years older than you, but if your suspicions were right, then he was nothing but delusional and childish.

Luffy made a strange noise, which brought your attention to him again.

You leaned to see his face under the hat.

“...You crying?”

“I’m not!”

But his face was wet with tears and his cheeks were flushed and he had the biggest pout and he rushed to clean his nose with the collar of his shirt. Oh no, he’s actually crying, even though he was clearly trying to hold it in. What do I do?!

You weren’t one to cry. You didn’t even remember the last time you did. Wait, have you ever cried at all? Have you ever seen anyone in the family cry? Huh… no, I don’t think so. Never felt anything deserving of shedding tears, I guess.

“Stop staring at me!”

“Sorry!” You leaned away and crossed your arms. “It’s just that this is, huh, unusual.”

Luffy sniffed and frowned. “What do you mean unusual?”

You scratched your own cheek awkwardly. “Well. If any of my brothers died, I’d throw a party to celebrate.”

Luffy stiffened for a second – and you worried that you had worsened the situation.

But then he laughed.

He sniffed again and cleaned his face with his forearm. The tears stopped! Great! “You really are a weirdo. Is your family that bad?”

You scowled instinctively. “I don’t even wanna talk about them.”

“I don’t wanna talk about them, either. They sound boring.” Luffy sniffed again and side eyed you with a small pout. “Don’t tell Ace you saw me crying. He’ll smack me.”

“Okay.” It was your turn to point at him. “Don’t tell Ace my secret or I’ll smack you.”

“Right. Wolfie.” He used a funny tone to say that name while grinning, and it immediately made you smile too. Luffy was kind of slow, but he got the message. That name was forbidden, even though you decided to share it with him anyway.

Luffy knew the real you now – and he didn’t care.

“Can I get another one–?”

“No!” You took the basket out of his reach before he could sneakily stretch his arm to grab it. “I was serious! Just one!”

“But–“

“No!”

You brought the basket close to your chest and sprinted up the trail without looking back. Luffy’s laugh and the tap tap tap of his sandals quickly followed.

At that moment, while running from Luffy and getting deeper into the forest, while feeling the delicious smell of the food inside the basket and sap and damp soil, while listening to his giggles and the ones that erupted from your own chest, you got to a conclusion.

One year, zero failures – twenty five successful commissions, uncountable classes, uncountable boring hours of painful training… it was a fair price to pay for the happiness you could experience at that mountain, at that island, at this god forsaken corner of the world. No golden armor or cannon or warship could compare to that.

No money could buy that.

You were willing to do whatever it took to always keep this small island of peace intact.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ａｒｔ ｄｅｃｏ ♡

♡ Pairing: roommate!hyunjin x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: smut/fluff

♡ Summary: You and Hyunjin are roommates, nothing more...and that's alright. At least that's what you tell yourselves. You've survived the last year by pretending you don't want each other, telling yourselves that the other's not interested. Your delusion's fully intact when Hyunjin catches you up late one night working on a project. He offers to help you research your subject, deepen your knowledge so to speak, but there's much more to it than that.

♡ Word Count: 4k-ish

♡ Warnings: playful teasing, use of an aphrodisiac, hyunjin can get a lil bossy, jealous hyunjin, making out, finger licking, nipple play, dry humping, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), pussy drunk hyunjin, things get very wet, fingering, clit play, low key body worship, a lil manhandling, unprotected sex, rough sex, marking, creampie, they're both quite needy, overstimulation, pet names (baby, sweetie, good girl, pretty girl).

♡ A/N: Hello my darlings. So this fic is a request that's a part of my 3.4k follower celebration which you can find on my page if you wanna put a request in! Thank you to @owlbeforsunrise for requesting this and for being so genuinely supportive of me with my writing. Love you so much xoxo

Procrastination. It’s your worst enemy. You had weeks to get this project done but it was always one thing or another and before you knew it the clock was counting down. Now it’s half past midnight and you’re stationed at your kitchen table, legs kicked up and a sketch pad in your lap.

The subjects of your current drawing are nestled in a medium sized wooden bowl, swirls of mahogany dancing in harmony with the collection of glistening pomegranates resting within. Pressing the button on the side of your headphones, you skip to the next song, humming along as it picks up, your colored pencil scratching away all the while. 

Hyunjin thinks you’re cute like this. With your messy hair and mismatched pajamas. You’re running on the last bit of an iced Americano and feel like absolute death but to him you couldn’t be cuter. He knows that even from behind. It’s not nice for roommates to sneak up on each other but you and Hyunjin never quite got around to the whole “setting boundaries” thing. 

Resting a hand on the back of your chair, Hyunjin leans over your shoulder, lifting one of your earphones to whisper, “Boo.” 

You jump a bit but immediately still yourself, readjusting in your seat to play it off. “Boo yourself” you huff, refusing to look in his direction.

“Scared ya?” he asks, grinning at the defiant look on your face. He was mistaken when he thought you couldn’t get cuter. You’re much cuter when you’re mad. 

You turn to him, lips tight, eyes narrowed, “Don’t you have something better to do? Drink cement? Chew glass?”

His smiling face hovers only an inch from yours, even less when he leans in closer, his gaze dancing over your features. Sometimes when Hyunjin looks at you it’s like being under a microscope. With him no glance is passive. Everything feels like it means something, like he’s studying you, and you can’t stand it. The heat behind those brown eyes is so casual, so effortless, that it’s intimidating in ways you could never bring yourself to admit. And now’s not the time for it. 

You roll your eyes, snapping your attention back to your drawing. “Why are you up anyway?”  

Hyunjin lingers a moment, a photographer taking one last shot of a precious thing, before making his way to the fridge. “I don’t know” he shrugs, an arm draped across the open door as he takes in his options, “Just couldn’t sleep I guess. Too much to worry about.”

You pause your music, jaw hung in shock, “Hwang Hyunjin? Worried? What about?” 

He drops his shoulders, responding with a pained groan, “You know I hate when you call me that.”

“I know” you giggle, doing a little dance with your shoulders, “That’s why I call you that. So, what’s up? Come share with the class.”

Grabbing a bottle of soda, he flings the fridge door closed, and turns to face you, unamused. He contemplates telling you, you can almost see the idea floating around that head of his. He could tell you what he was thinking about. It’d only take a sentence to tell you how one of his best friends texted him earlier asking if you were single. It’d only take another to confess how jealous that left him, how he’s been spiraling ever since, but instead he pops the soda open, gulping down the fizzy drink and any possibilities of a confession right along with it. 

“So, why are you drawing pomegranates?”

You click your tongue, lips curving into a smile, “Why are you deflecting?” 

Hyunjin grabs for your sketch pad and you tighten your grip around the corner of the book but it’s no use, it’s already his. “Is this some new fruit fixation or…”

“It’s not a fruit fixation. It’s for one of my classes. Human Sexuality and the Arts” you say, twinkling your fingers to make it seem fancy. 

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, glancing over at the bowl of fruit and back to you. “And what does that have to do with human sexuality? Were people, you know?” 

He does a light humping motion, your sketch pad propped up at his hip. You snatch it back, refusing to let him violate your art in such a way. “No. People weren’t fucking the pomegranates!” you shout, hitting him with the book, “The ancient Greeks thought that pomegranates were an aphrodisiac. They associate it with the goddess Aphrodite. Some people even say that the forbidden fruit in the Bible was a pomegranate, not an apple.” 

You light up when you speak, you always do when it comes to your art, and Hyunjin can’t help but admire everything about it. The way your brain works, what it manages to create, is almost as beautiful as you are. Just almost.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” you ask, catching onto that starry eyed gaze. 

Hyunjin shakes it off, switching modes like a classically trained actor. “Because you’re just so…” he trails off, thinking up the word, “Painfully nerdy.” 

“Oh, fuck you!” you laugh, flipping him off, “Forgive me for doing my research.” 

He blows you a kiss, making your heart flutter against your will. “Research, huh?” he asks, picking up a pomegranate. He juggles it in his hand, feeling the weight of it, “So you must’ve tried it then.”

“Tried what?”

“Pomegranates. You said they were an aphrodisiac. Ancient Greeks, goddesses, forbidden fruit, all that. How do you know it’s not bullshit?”

You chew at your inner lip, the tail of your pencil tapping away at the page, “I guess I don’t.” 

“Then why don’t we try it?” he asks, presenting you with the fruit. 

You stare at it for a moment, taking it in like it’s some alien thing. You look up at him, your temperature rising at his sudden closeness to you. You’d be a liar if you said you never wondered what it’d be like to have him standing over you like this, that handsome face staring back down at you, but in none of those fantasies was he holding groceries. 

“And by ‘try it’ you mean what exactly?”

You watch as he heads over to the kitchen counter, grabbing a plate from one of the cabinets above before he slides a knife from the block near the sink. With a few swipes of glimmering steel, the pomegranate’s left in four perfect pieces. Placing the knife down, he picks one up, turning back to you. “Come here.”

“No…” you sigh, popping your headphones back on. You have a deadline to meet. There’s no time to spare for his nonsense. 

“Come here” he repeats, his voice laced with a certain sweetness. The kind that makes you fold for him every time. 

You toss your headphones onto the table, your art supplies following close behind as you rise from your seat, bare feet dragging across the cool tile floor. You grab a slice of pomegranate, raising it to your lips before an unexpected hesitation takes hold of you and you toss it away. 

Hyunjin leans against the counter, vexed by your reaction, “What? You think I poisoned it?”

“No, it’s just…you first” you insist, hoping to distract him and yourself from the nerves bubbling up inside you. 

“Me first?”

“Yes, you first. It was your idea so you eat it first.”

He clears his throat, standing up straight so that his tall figure seems even more impressive. Two steps bring him closer to you, his toes right on the edge of touching yours as he brings the fruit to his mouth. His plush rosy lips close around it, his dexterous tongue working the fleshy seeds free of the rind. Scarlet juice drips from the corners of his mouth, riding the sharp contour of his jaw to coat his chin. You’re drawn in by how delicately his mouth works against it. Something about it is so sensual, far more sensual than you’re sure he intends it to be. 

Your body doesn’t care one way or another. Intent means nothing to your quickening pulse or to the warmth creeping its way to the lower half of your body. You don’t even notice you’re holding your breath until his mouth pulls away from the rind and you exhale like you’ve been underwater for an eternity. 

“Now you’re the one staring at me like that” he laughs, disposing of the rind on the plate. “Something on my face?” 

Instinctively you bring your fingers to his chin, wiping the juices away, “Actually, yes. Didn’t know you were such a messy eater.” 

“I thought some girls liked that” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

You swallow hard, your hands trembling barely enough to notice. Only Hyunjin does. Taking you by the wrist, he presses your fingertips to his lips, your touch feather light. You still as his tongue darts out, its wet warmth tracing the shape of your fingers. His eyes never leave yours as he does it. He wants to see how you react, how you feel, and you don’t disappoint. Your legs are shaking, soft thighs rubbing together in shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. The friction is heavenly, soothing the throbbing between your legs and making it much much worse all at once. 

“Is it working?” you ask, your voice cracking under the weight of a question you already know the answer to. 

Hyunjin lets out a chuckle from somewhere deep within his throat, his breath skimming your palm as his lips chart a path along your arm. Every kiss is electric. The tingling left behind at each point of contact gives you goosebumps. Ghosting over the sleeve of your loose fitting tee, his lips find yours, cautiously waiting as near to them as they can be without touching. You’re two magnets, the attraction between you too intense to ignore. All that holds you back are yourselves, your very cells vibrating at the need for connection. 

“Your turn” he whispers, breaking the spell to give you enough room to breathe. As if you ever could under the circumstances. 

You reach over, picking a slice of pomegranate up, fragile as a bomb. This is silly, you think to yourself. Hyunjin’s right. It’s not like it’s poison. You dive in, clearing the rind in a hurry, and flashing Hyunjin a look that says, “What now?” 

What now? Now is the force of his mouth colliding with yours, the sweet, tangy juices lingering on your tongue for only a second before his own tongue’s snaking between your lips to drink it down and you along with it. You tense at first. Not quite resisting. Not quite surrendering. But when his hands find your figure, palms riding the hills of your curves, you crumble. 

A year of living together. A year of playful flirting. A year of words spoken and words not. All of it is poured into a kiss that could shatter worlds. Without question it shatters yours. You never imagined that Hyunjin’s feelings for you could be mutual but the hunger he kisses you with leaves nothing to be questioned. 

“I think it’s working” he says, a breathless taunt against your lips. 

You grab onto his shirt, your nails digging into the fabric as he grips the back of one of your pillowy thighs, raising your knee to rest at his side. “I hate you” you whimper when he presses into you, the growing bulge in his sweatpants teasing your core. There’s no denying how wet you are. The need soaking through the cotton of your panties is more than enough evidence of that. 

It only worsens when he strays from the kiss, leaning into your neck to whisper, “You hate me?” His tone is playful with a hint of something darker. He’s daring you to lie when you both know the truth. “How much do you hate me? Enough to make me stop when I do this?” His fingers dig into the supple flesh of your ass, grinding you against him, and you tremble, your moans as light as your next breath.

“Or this?” Spinning you around, Hyunjin slams you back into the counter, his lips latching onto your neck to feel your pulse race beneath his tongue. He suckles harshly at the skin, the sharpness of his kiss balanced by the ecstasy of his clothed cock rubbing your clit.

This wasn’t the plan. When he stumbled into the kitchen, his eyes barely open, he expected to find a late night snack. What he found instead was you. Something he wanted infinitely more than anything this kitchen could offer. He can’t remember ever needing something so badly that it hurts. His cock straining against his pants is nothing short of torture. It aches for you and only you. 

“Hyunjin, just…aaah” you whine, arching as he sneaks a hand under your shirt, touching your naked skin for the first time. 

He massages your belly, your side, all the way up to your swollen breast that fits in his hand with the perfection of something made to be there. He captures your bud between his fingers, his pointer and index pinching it with just enough pressure to send more of those delicious moans pouring from you. 

“Just…what, sweetie?” he asks, pulling back from your neck with a pop. His lips float back up to yours and that’s where they wait, eager for your next words. 

You can barely form them when he’s throbbing against your drenched pussy, your panties and shorts too wet to make a bit of difference. His fingers tighten around your nipple, playing you like a finely tuned instrument, and you sing for him just the way he wants. 

“Just…just…” you stutter, your hold on his shirt threatening to tear it, “Just fuck me already if you’re gonna do it.” 

You’re both taken back by your directness, the shock doing away with whatever last bit of pretending that lived between you. Hyunjin kisses you again, the passion burning just as hot as the first time, grabbing you by the waist to guide you somewhere you can’t see.

Everything’s dark. The only light you see are the sparks twinkling behind your lids, the kiss pulling you in so that nothing else matters. It’s only when you feel the edge of the kitchen table press into your ass that you remember where you are. 

“Clothes off” he demands, the hem of your shirt already knotted in his fists, “I wanna see you.” 

Your shirt disappears and your immediate reaction is to bring your arms around yourself, shielding yourself from his sight, but Hyunjin peels them away, the awe in his expression quieting your fears. “Oh god, you’re so beautiful” he gasps, slipping your shorts down to reveal your figure in its full glory.

Your panties come down with them, discarded at your feet, leaving you exposed. Hyunjin lifts you onto the table, a hand coasting along your inner thigh to spread your legs open. His gaze falls below your waist and he’s instantly mesmerized by the slickness of your gorgeous pussy. 

He runs his fingers through your folds, coating them in your arousal, watching your stiff clit twitch from the faintest touch. “Didn’t know you’d be this wet for me. Look at you…” He strokes your entrance, spreading you open and the way you leak onto the table makes his mouth water. “Is this an aphrodisiac too?”

Even in a haze of pleasure, you manage the most adorable giggle, “I don’t know. My books didn’t say anything about that.” 

“Let’s find out then, hmm?” Hyunjin doesn’t wait for your response. He dives right in, dropping to his knees, a devoted lover eager to worship his goddess. 

Your palms smack down on the table, your arms propped up on either side in a desperate attempt to keep yourself upright but it’s no use. Hyunjin’s tongue’s buried too deep within your walls, curling and flicking as he messily slurps down your essence. Your arms are slipping out from under you. The quaking of your body’s too much to control.

Hyunjin slides his hands up to your lower back, cradling you as your back meets the surface below. You shake, maybe from the chill—maybe from his nose bumping your clit, your pussy clenching around his tongue each time. 

“Mmm, tastes so good…” he groans, pulling you closer so that your ass dangles right on the edge of the table, “Can’t stop, fuck, I can’t…”

The slurping noises are borderline obscene, his mouth spread open to taste every part of you. The tip of his tongue swirls through your smooth, velvety folds, teasing your entrance with the slightest stretch before drawing figure eights up to your clit.

It makes every bit of sense in the world now how he got that pomegranate down so quickly. His tongue moves with expert precision, knowing just what to do to achieve exactly what he wants and right now what he wants is for you to keep moaning. Keep trembling. Keep raising your hips to meet the heat of his mouth, riding every wave of pleasure and oh so needy for the next. 

“Jinnie…” you moan, his short hair tickling your palm as you pet the back of his head. 

“Jinnie?” he laughs, applying kitten licks to your pussy between every word spoken, “You only call me that when you want something. You want something, baby?”

“Mmhmm” you nod, still raising your hips for more.

And Hyunjin gives it to you, sinking two fingers into your warmth and seeking out the sweet spot previously discovered by his tongue. The sound you make when he finally hits it is like music to his ears, his cock throbbing from how desperately it wishes it were the one responsible for it.

Hyunjin’s fingers pick up speed, coaxing out a stream of broken moans, “Tell me what you want from Jinnie. Anything for you.” He spreads his fingers wide, stretching you open as his lips latch onto your clit once more.

“Mmm, so close, wanna come for you…” you confess, making the terrible mistake of glancing between your legs.

Hyunjin’s eyes await yours, the lust behind them worsening the pressure building within you. “Then do it. Come for me. Let me taste you” he urges, his fingers abandoning you to let his tongue fill the space.

Your head falls back, your lush breasts jutting out with every rise and fall of your chest. You hook your legs around his shoulders and he grabs onto your thighs, keeping you right where you are. Squirming, whining, begging him not to stop as your orgasm tears through you leaving you speechless.

All you can do is lay there, completely at his mercy, gushing down his chin and helpless to stop his pursuit of more. The taste of you is addictive, so addictive that he can’t pry himself away. Not even when you attempt to twist yourself free, weakly pushing his head back. He’s not done until he says he is. Not until he’s lapped up every last drop. 

“You’re trying to kill me” you pout, managing to turn onto your side. 

Hyunjin tilts his head, keeping his mouth on you, refusing to give up those last few licks. When he finally drags himself away from you, his chest is heaving, and a haze of bliss hangs over him. The same one that hangs over you, weighing you down to the table.

You couldn’t get up if you wanted to and Hyunjin won’t give you the chance. Grabbing you by the waist, he flips you onto your stomach, the impact sending your nearby art supplies tumbling to the floor. 

“I’m not trying to kill you, pretty girl” he grins, tugging his shirt over his head, “Not yet.” 

It’s a subconscious thing, poking your ass up at him like you are. You don’t mean to drive him crazy but you do and he can’t finish stripping down fast enough, breathing a sigh of relief when his cock springs free from his boxers. He rubs the head against your entrance and your walls are already fluttering, wanting nothing more than to suck him in.

There’s a twinge in his chest, at the sight of you stretching around him as he presses into you, and he can’t go any further. Everything’s been happening so fast that it’s just hitting him that this is all real. This is happening.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you turn to look back at him, your expression heavy with concern. “We don’t have to if you don’t…”

Hyunjin’s quick to cut you off, “No! I want to! It’s just…I’ve wanted you for so long and I never thought that I could have you.”

You smile, warm and comforting, “Well you can have me. I’m all yours. You just have to take me. Take me, Jinnie.”

Nothing else needs to be said for him to thrust into you, your heads spinning from the euphoria of your bodies finally meeting. “Aah, fuck, you’re so tight baby” he hisses, slowly rocking in and out of you. He can feel you adjusting to his size, your walls reveling in his thickness as his tip kisses your cervix only to tighten right back up when he dares to pull out a little too far.

He runs a hand along your back, tracing the curve of your spine with his fingertips. You shouldn’t be this beautiful. You shouldn’t take him this well. It’s not fair what you do to him. How hard you make his cock pulse, your pussy already leaving him drenched down to the base. 

And you’re faring no better. Your senses are dominated by the sensation of every thrust, his tip beating against your g-spot with every thrust. It’s the kind of pleasure you can feel tingling your toes and ghosting your fingertips. You can taste it on your tongue. It vibrates in every fiber of your being.

Hyunjin’s hips snap into you harder, the moisture between you sending a lewd slapping sound pinging off the walls of the kitchen. It makes your body jiggle, your ass bouncing back onto him, and he feels so completely enveloped by you that he has to do it again. And again, harsher, faster, his hold on your hips unyielding, dominating your every move. 

The banging of the kitchen table against the wall is more than enough for a noise complaint but your moans? You’re crying out like no one can hear you—every fractured syllable of his name bleeding through the walls into the apartment next door—but it’s nothing you can control. Nothing you want to control.

Hyunjin dips an arm under you, two fingers caressing your clit, and the muscles in your body pull tight, your eyes beginning to water from the overstimulation. You think you might cry if he keeps going but you know you’ll cry if he stops. You’ll throw a tantrum, kicking and screaming, because this is all you want in the world. He has to keep going. Keep pushing you further and further beyond your limits.

“Aah! Oh fuck!” you scream, grabbing onto the edge of the table, nails scraping the wood. Your hips stutter, unable to keep their rhythm, and Hyunjin knows you’re close again. 

Leaning forward, he decorates your back with kisses, uttering praises that chip away at your resolve. “Come again for me, my beautiful girl. No holding back. Let go for me.”  

Just like that you feel light, like your body holds no weight at all. Everything’s soft and fluffy, the most gentle it’s ever been, then all at once you feel all of it. The intensity’s beyond anything that was building before and you’re coming down your thighs, drenching the fingers that frantically work your clit.

“That’s it. Good girl” he coos, the knots in the pit of his own stomach tightening, ready to come undone. “You want me to pull out?”

He leans away but you reach behind you, grabbing him by the arm, “No…inside me.” 

Hyunjin takes you by both hands, interlocking his fingers with yours, and fucks iyou into the table, your pussy clinging to him, swallowing him in so far that he fears he might lose himself in you. If he bites down on his lip any harder he’ll break skin. Not that he could even notice. He’s too busy unraveling between your walls, thick ropes of cum painting you with their creamy white warmth.

There’s no telling how much time passes before he stops moving. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? But you’re both left trembling, your sweat slicked bodies still connected as you drift back down to earth, basking in the afterglow. 

You let out a squeak when he finally slips out of you, rolling onto your back to get more comfortable. Hyunjin positions himself between your legs, his arms caging you in on both sides as he leans in to plant a kiss on your lips. The taste of pomegranate has faded and now he tastes only of a flavor that’s distinctly you.

“See, I told you research was important” he gloats, his length teasing the sensitivity of your pussy. 

You shiver, cupping his face as you arch into him, “I mean, I guess but don’t get any more ideas. I still have a project due you know.”

Hyunjin cuts his eyes at the sketch pad scattered on the floor amidst a sea of colored pencils. “One second.”

He slips off of you and you sit up, crossing your legs, a silent observer as he carefully gathers your things for you. He hands them over with a pleased look on his face. “I can come to your room….help you finish.” 

You clutch your items close to your chest, not at all ignorant to the way his thumbs are stroking your thighs. “Help me finish in what way exactly? 

“Mmm…” he hums, the pad of his thumb just barely touching your clit, “You’ll just have to trust me.” 

“Trust you?” you laugh, hopping down from the table, “We’ll see about that.” You give him a peck on the lips, depriving him of something deeper. A small form of torture done fully on purpose. “Follow me. Oh and bring the plate just in case we have to do more, uh, research.”

Time seems to move in slow motion for Hyunjin as you walk off towards your room, your naked body breathtaking even in the shadows of the dimly lit hall. Backing up, he blindly retrieves the plate from the counter, his fingers skimming the fruit as he does so. 

“God bless the Greeks” he utters under his breath, his brain already running rampant with all the filthy things he wants to do to you tonight. He’s definitely gonna need more fruit.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

All I've Wanted Was You

Main Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, smut (fingering, oral f!receiving, p in v sex), angst, light fluff, humor, no use of y/n, friends with benefits, love confessions

Summary: You have an arrangement with Bucky. You sleep together, and nothing more. Every time is supposed to be the last time. You love him too much keep this up and pretend it's not killing you.

But it might be killing him too.

Author's Note: Request from @wintersoldierchronicles! I had SO much fun with it, and it got (as expected) emotional. I am what I am. Enjoy!

Word Count: 5.7k

He’s giving you the look again. The one that he’s promised not to give you anymore, because it makes you both break promises, and shatters your heart into a million little, glowing pieces every time. 

And Bucky always picks up the pieces, after. He doesn’t know what he’s doing—or that he’s the one who broke you in the first place—but he’s good at cleaning up after himself. He makes his bed every morning. His guns and knives are always polished and well-cared for, and his plates are cleaned with his hands before he puts them in the dishwasher, because that’s how his ma raised him. He folds all his laundry, never has dust on his floor, and never wears boxer two days in a row. All his trash finds it’s way into the can, and then the bag gets taken out over his shoulder because no matter how many times Tony tells him he has robots and people to do that instead, Bucky insists on doing it himself. 

It’s one of the reasons you love him. 

And that’s exactly why he can’t give you that look. He promised he’d stop it. You’d promised you’d stop indulging it.

But if Bucky’s good at cleaning up, you’re good at making messes. There’s always a little wrapper empty can on your desk—Bucky always throws it out for you—and you tend to wait until you can smell it to change your sheets. You’ve been wearing the same bra for two weeks, and you have one pair of heeled boots where the sole is coming apart, but they still work, so you’re still using them. You had to throw out your last laptop, because five coffee spills were apparently too much for it to handle. People don’t hand you weapons anymore, after Nat gave you a dart gun for safety and you ended up shooting yourself in the thigh. Tony has an extra robot for your apartment.

But Bucky cleans it anyway, whenever he gives you the look, and finds his way back into your bed.

“Don’t know how it’s this bad every time,” he’d muttered a few weeks back, folding your towels with a small frown.

He didn’t need to do that. You wish he wouldn’t. It’s domestic, and it makes this—you and Bucky, though there isn’t really a you and Bucky—feel far too real.

You’d shrugged, watching him move around from the bed. “I spend every day cleaning up your messes, Barnes. That’s where all the energy for this,” You’d mad a sweeping gesture around the room. “Goes.”

“Hey.” Bucky had given you a mockingly stern look and pointed finger. “I haven’t done anything, for like a month.”

“Steve hasn’t done anything in three years.”

“Yeah, but the last thing he did was become a war criminal, doll. That had you on overtime.”

“And who did he become a war criminal for?”

Bucky had rolled his eyes. “Shut up. And the last thing I did wasn’t even that bad.”

“You punched the governor.”

“He called you a whore.” Bucky had glared down at your trash. “I woulda done worse, if I didn’t know it would come back to bite your ass.”

You’d sighed. “Bucky-“

“And I never mean to make mess for you.” He’d muttered, giving you an almost puppy-like look, and you’d wanted to vault off the bed so you could wrap yourself around him and never let go. “Just happens. If I was in charge, we’d all be on perfect fuckin’ behavior, all the time.”

“Well, thank you.” You’d given him a soft, gentle smile, and he’d relaxed slightly. “And I’m not mad about it, Bucky. It’s my job. And I’m good at it.”

“You are.” He’d said under his breath, his tongue flicking out between his lips, and his words had sounded like they were mostly for himself. “Use a lot of pretty words, when you do it. Could make a man jump off a cliff just by asking him to believe the wind would catch him.”

You’d blinked at him, having no fucking idea what that meant, but Bucky just continued, his voice raising back up.

“But I make it harder-“

“No, you don’t. It’s not your fault people are dumb and don’t understand how brainwashing works.” You’d given him a pointed look. “And nothing you do could be worse than the Nat Burrito-Stripper-Arson incident. And she never cleans up my room for me.”

Bucky’s lip had twitched. You’d counted it as a victory. “I’m gonna do your laundry too.”

“What a gentleman.”

“Only for you, doll.” He’d shrugged, and gone back to his self-inflicted mission.

That was one of the ways he picks up the pieces. Even if he doesn’t love you, Bucky really does care about you. So much. It’s one of the reasons this can’t happen. You don’t know what you’ll do if you lose him forever. 

But the look is getting more pleading. Shining blue eyes on yours, raised brows that have a question and a promise, something dangerously close to hope all over his handsome features. 

You don’t know how to say no to him. You’ve been trying to get better at it, but you also love him, and want him always. So you’re not quite there yet. 

When you smile at him, the recognition flashes over Bucky as his jaw clenches, he blinks once—which, for Bucky, is basically jumping with joy—and turns back to his conversation with Steve and Sam. 

You both have to get through the rest of the night. One of Tony’s dumb little cocktail parties that’s mandatory, for a united front, and neither of you will be able to escape. You’d tried once, and that’s the only time you’d almost gotten caught. Steve had gone looking for Bucky because it was Steve, and Tony had gone looking for you because apparently the head of PR needed to be easily accessible.

You and Bucky had made promises that time, too.

“That was…” He’d looked at you over the kitchen counter that morning, his words slow and measured. “Close. Last night.”

You’d hummed, staring down at the coffee in your mug. It had long gone cold. You’d been clinging to it and pretending to drink it for an hour, because it gave you a good excuse to wait for Bucky. But it was bitter. And a little shitty, because Tony had been fucking with the machine again. 

“We shouldn’t do that again.” Bucky had muttered, and you’d only nodded. “I don’t want to get caught, and then have Steve and Stark down our necks-“

“I know.” You’d whispered, forcing your gaze onto his. And that was a different look, in his eyes. Further away. Untouchable.

Reminding you that, at the end of the day, Bucky’s not yours to touch or have or wait for. Just like you don’t have a good enough reason to be his.

“That was the last time.” You’d said it like it didn’t rip you in half, and Bucky had nodded.

“Alright. Good.” He hadn’t walked away. You’d wish he would. 

You could’ve fallen apart again in peace, if he had.

“Are we still good for the whole aquarium thing tomorrow?” He’d asked, and you’d shrugged.

“It’s a team event. I organized it. You have to be there.”

“Yeah, but, uh-“ Bucky had cleared his throat, his tongue flicking out between his lips, his gaze dropping to the kitchen counter. “I was kind of plannin’ on just following you around.”

God. He kept saying things like that. All the fucking time, and it was a little cruel, but you know he didn’t mean it be. He had—has—no idea that you dream about him and feel colder when he’s not there and look for him in every room, even when you know he’s not going to be there. Just in case, you always look.

He’d muttered your name, and you’d just given him a small smile.

“As long as we look at the jellyfish.”

Bucky had nodded slowly. “Jellyfish. Got it.” Then he’d smiled. A wide, toothy, real smile that so few people got to see. You don’t know how you earned Bucky’s smile-list. 

You know you’re never going to risk your spot on it. So you’d smiled back, and said nothing else because the words might transform into I love you.

After he’d left the kitchen, you’d dumped the coffee down the sink, and sworn to yourself that that, the close call, was really the last time.

It’s been six more last times since then. There had been the last time at the aquarium, and the last time after a meeting, three last times on random days where nothing had happened, but you’d caved anyway, and the last time when he’d shown up at your door after a mission, and you’d taken him in without a question.

And now it’s seven last times.

But this one, this one for certain, will be the real last time. To save yourself, this has to be the real last time. 

So you might as well make it count. 

You drift through the rest of the party, smiling at the people Tony tells you to smile at, shaking hands and making soft-edged jokes about your job, keeping Bucky in your periphery because you can’t fucking help yourself. You tell yourself it’s to see when he gives the signal, but in reality, it’s because you need to see him. Need to torture yourself every time a pretty woman glides over to his side and touches his arm—never the metal one, they never touch the metal arm and it makes you hate them—because maybe he’ll change his mind and want her instead. 

It would be a mercy, in a way. Take away the torment of knowing you’re going to have him, then need to leave before morning.

You always leave before morning. The only time you’re allowed to linger is when you’ve fucked in the daylight, and you start talking like nothing’s happened at all. It breaks you a little more every time.

But you still go. You love him, and you don’t have the strength of all the gods and heroes around you, so you always go.

The night starts to die down. Couples drift off with their hands tangled together, or they drop onto the couch and give each other little smiles—the kind that tells you that, to them, they’re the only two people into the world—and you stand in the corner, alone. 

Bucky gives you the signal, as he moves to the door. Two hands casually behind his back one gloved palm splayed open.

Five minutes, before you can follow him.

They’re the longest five minutes of your life. You chew on the ice at the bottom of your glass until your fingers are sort of numb, but you don’t really care.

Bucky will warm them up.

It’s hard not to run to his room, when you know he’s waiting. For you. 

Bucky’s waiting for you.

You’ve barely even knocked on the door when it swings open, and Bucky pulls you inside.

There’s no foreplay. There’s never foreplay, because that would imply something intimate and sacred. 

But this is sacred. Only to you, but all the same. Every single second Bucky offers you is holy. To him it’s just hunger. A god starved, asking you to leave him an offering while you’re still in his favor.

That’s what this is supposed to be. You’re supposed to kiss with teeth for a minute, then you’ll fall to your knees to please him. He’ll take a fist full of your hair and guide you up and down his cock, fucking your mouth until you’re choking on him and moaning, before he pulls almost all the way out, and cums.

He never settles for only cumming in your mouth or on your tits. He has a habit of angling himself perfectly so that you swallow half of it, and the rest spreads everywhere. Then he’s supposed to drag up into another violent kiss, and fuck you however he wants.

But that’s not what’s happening.

This kiss is longer. Deeper. Bucky’s mouth almost fully overtakes yours, his tongue pressing on you lower lip until you open for him, and then he’s running it over your teeth and down your throat, like he’s trying to plant himself into you. His hands are handling you softly. Holding you at the curve of your back and pressing your body right into his, until all you can sense is Bucky. All you can hear are his slow grunts rolling through you—born from only kissing you—and all you can taste is the whiskey on his breath, that he probably only drank because Nat handed it to him, and he’s scared of her. And you can smell his cologne, and when your eyes flutter open for half a second you can watch his nose bump yours, and feel-

You can feel Bucky everywhere. The hand that’s not holding you is starting to trail over your thighs, closer to where you’re aching for him, and-

This isn’t right. You’re supposed to get on your knees, and then earn him fingering you back. And you try to pull away and sink down, but Bucky just tugs you right back up, and slams his lips back over yours.

“Bucky,” you gasp, pushing a little on his chest because this isn’t supposed to be about you. “Wait-“

He stops immediately, his furrowing in concern. “Are you o-“

“I’m okay.” You mumble, playing with the fabric of his shirt. “You didn’t do anything, Buck, I just- I’m-“ Supposed to isn’t right. That makes it sound like he makes you, and he doesn’t. “What about you?”

Bucky frowns, his hand still resting on your thigh. “What about me?”

“You’re- You know.” You flush, keeping your gaze firmly fixed on your hands as your voice drops to a whisper. “Blowjob.”

He relaxes against you immediately, and you don’t get it. You’ve done something wrong. You’re supposed to be serving him.

And you definitely don’t get his low chuckle, or why his expression is so soft when he tugs your hair back, forcing your gaze onto his.

“We can skip the blowjob tonight, babygirl.”

That’s not fair. He can’t babygirl you right now. “But-“

“Look, I-“ He sighs, shaking his head at something you don’t understand. “I know you wanna, and I don’t not want it, you’re- Jesus, you’re so fucking good at that, but tonight, lemme take care of you. Please.”

That’s not what this is about. And he said tonight like there will be more nights, and there will be, but you’re not supposed to acknowledge that. 

But he said please.  

And he pulled out the babygirl.

You nod, the movement smaller than you want it to be, and Bucky grins.

“Good. Alright- Yeah.” He presses another perfect, too-soft kiss to your lips. “Tell me what you want.”

Whatever he wants. As long as Bucky’s offering it, you want it.

You don’t think he’ll care for that answer. 

“I- I dunno-“

“Yeah, you do.” He’s kissing a line down your throat as he speaks. That’s not fair either, because it makes your head fuzzy, and you forget how to lie. “C’mon, doll. Tell me what you want.”

“You.” 

Your answer slips out without thought, and you’re lucky. Bucky doesn’t read into it. He just groans, and you feel his bulge twitch slightly against you. 

His hand slides up to cup your pussy, right over your underwear, and you moan lewdly into his ear.

“So fucking wet already.” He mutters against your neck, and you nod a little stupidly in agreement. “C’mon. Be creative. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

He slaps your cunt once, and your nails dig into his shoulders as you try to stay upright. “Bucky-“

“You can do it, babygirl. Anythin’ you want, just tell me and I’ll get it for you.” Bucky starts to rub his palm back and forth, and you might fly out of your skin. “Use all those pretty words you’ve got, tell me.”

That’s his Sargent voice. 

You don’t know how to disobey his Sargent voice.

“I want you to touch me.” You whisper, and Bucky’s eyes shoot back up to yours. “With the metal arm. Until I can’t fucking stand. Then toss me around. And catch me. And taste me, fuck-“ You’re turning yourself on, and Bucky’s blown-out, lustful gaze isn’t helping. “I want you to taste me, Bucky, you- you do this fucking thing with your tongue all the time and I love it and I want it on me and shit-“

Bucky mutters your name in a low warning, but you’re on a roll, and you don’t know how to stop.

“I was to cum on your face, because sometimes it- Fuck, it gets caught in your beard and that’s so hot, and then I was you to fuck me stupid and hard and rough, and keep touching me, don’t stop touching me, Bucky, please. I want to feel it, baby, I need to feel you tomorrow, please.”

You take a long, heavy breath, and maybe you pushed it too far. He’s just staring at you. What if he’d expected you to say something gentle, and you said that. What if that was a test, and you failed it. And Bucky wouldn’t test you like that, but he’s still staring at you, and it’s a hungry, borderline animalistic stare, but he’s not moving or speaking or-

“Tell me if it’s too much.” He mutters, and it’s almost a growl. “I need you to promise me you’ll tell me if it’s too much.”

You nod, trying not to show your eager desperation on your face. “I promise. Please, Bucky. Please.”

His throat bobs, his metal fingers slowly hooking around your panties. “Hold on.”

Your arms wrap around Bucky’s neck right as his fingers shove into your cunt, and he hadn’t lied.

He’s giving you exactly what you asked for.

Not a single part of your instructions gets neglected or ignore. Bucky seems to have given himself a mission to follow them, and he already knows what you like, and this might kill you.

He starts with the touching. Your underwear is ripped off with your entire dress, and tossed into a far, unimportant corner of the room. A metal finger pushes right into your cunt, pumping in and out, faster and faster until you’re moaning. His palm still rubbing right against your clit, his fingers never slowing, and you can feel it, already you can feel the pleasure in your core-

“Want more, doll?” 

You moan at Bucky’s voice, right in your ear, and grind down onto his hand. 

His chuckle is dark, and you know he understands. “Yes, ma’am.”

Two fingers. You’re so fucking full and it’s only two fingers, but he’s moving so fast and your knees feel weak, your nails scratching and clawing at Bucky’s neck to remain on your feet-

“Let go,” Bucky mutters your name in your ear, and you’re a little worried he can read your mind. “I’ve got you.”

He’s got you. Bucky’s got you.

Your orgasm hits you with a heady warmth that spreads everywhere, over your nerves and into your mouth as a you moan, right to your fingers as you cling to Bucky, and your legs give out. 

He catches you. He’s got you, and his touch is so gentle as he continues to roll your clit between his thumb and forefinger, pushing you right back up to the edge.

“Bucky,” you whine, shivering slightly as he kisses over your collarbone. “I- I’m gonna cum again-“

“Hold it.” He mutters, and you squeak as he fucking pinches your clit. “You’re cumming on my face next, babygirl, and you need to be ready-“

“I am ready-“

“Nah.” He draws back up, giving you a grin that can only be described as wicked. “Not for what I’m plannin’ with you.”

Your eyes widen, but Bucky’s already moving on. 

Tossing you down onto the bed, barely giving you a second to settle before he’s prowling over you, shoving your thighs apart and looking at your dripping pussy with something impossibly close to awe.

“So fucking wet for me, doll.” He mutters, shaking his head. “I can’t- You’re a damn angel, letting me taste you-“

“Bucky,” you whine again. It’s dangerous, how easy he does this to you. “Please-“

His grip on your thighs tightens, as you start to grind up into the air. “Need you to stay still. Can you be good for me and stay still?”

Oh, God. “Yes,” you whisper, and his grin is dangerous. 

“Yes, what?”

You hate it when he does that. There’s nothing in the world that’s going to stop you from giving him what he wants, and he fucking knows it, too. 

Asshole. Handsome, perfect, stupid James Barnes is an asshole, and you’re going to give him exactly what he wants. 

“Yes, sir.”

“There you go.” Bucky hums, running two fingers between the puffy lips of your cunt. “Good girl.”

He dives down before you can think of something smart to say. Then thinking flies out the window all together, because he’s going to make you fly out of your skin and fucking ascend. 

He’s doing the tongue thing. Bucky’s doing the tongue thing, right against you, over and over as he eats you out like it’s the end of the fucking world if he doesn’t. Working you into a frenzy on your clit before dropping to your cunt and tongue-fucking you until you’re humping his face. He’s not trying to restrain your movements. Given how he’s groaning, and his hips are jerking against the bed, he’s liking how your thighs are squeezing his head and you’re writhing below him.

And you’re so close. So fast, you’re right back on the edge, and the heat building is a little different, and fuck, he’s so fucking good at this, why is he so fucking good at this-

You make a high sound that’s supposed to be a warning, but just comes out a raw sound of need.

Bucky understands. 

And he doubles down. 

A new coil in your stomach snaps, when Bucky’s tongue presses flat on your clit, rolling it, and this orgasm is hot and wet. You’ve never been this wet in your fucking life, and never been the wet from before until you met Bucky, but this is different. This like a flood between your legs, and your back is arching off the bed as Bucky keeps his face pressed right against your sex, and you feel a little molten and gooey as it fades, and you’re not sure what just happened, but it felt good.

“You squirted.” Bucky’s voice is low as he rises back up, and he has to be reading your mind. “Shit, I fucking knew it- You’re always so wet, and- That was beautiful, babygirl, tasted to fucking good, wait-“

His lips crash right over yours, and you moan a little stupidly as you taste yourself on his tongue. You’re already limp on the bed, and it feels like heaven, but Bucky notices and draws away.

“You sure you want more?” His question is genuine. And if you tell him to stop there, he will.

But you can see your release, glinting on his dark stubble.

You’re this far gone anyway.

“More.” You whisper, and Bucky’s eyes flash. “Please, Bucky. Need more. I can take it, please-“

It’s a good thing he kisses you when he does. You were embarrassingly close to crying.

It’s another long, slow, fucking passionate kiss. You’re pretty sure this night is a dream. You don’t want to wake up.

“Still got you, babygirl.” He murmurs against your lips. “Gonna take good care of you. You still want it, uh, rough?”

You nod, your head already clear of all thoughts but Bucky, and he lets out a long breath, pressing one last kiss to the space between your eyes as he draws back up. 

You don’t know why, but you thought he’d flip you over. Maybe spank you a little before spreading your ass cheeks open and fucking you like an animal from behind.

He doesn’t move from about you. Bucky strokes himself a few times—his own clothing long joined yours in rags on the floor—lining up at your entrance with a deep breath.

You’re getting one last chance to push him away. 

You don’t want it.

And when he sees that, something in Bucky seems to snap. You ask for rough. He promised it.

Rough is what you get.

Bucky slams into you with one movement, not bothering to give you time to adjust before he’s fucking you at a brutal pace, his cock driving deep enough to hit your cervix and press right against your g-spot, setting you on fucking fire. He’s holding himself over you with the metal arm, his gaze locked on yours as he watches himself cleave you open, and you have to close your eyes, or you’ll lose your mind. There’s something too deep in his gaze, and it’s going to drive you insane. Being filled up and fucked until you’re drooling, all while Bucky groan pure filth above you, is more than enough.

“Taking my cock so fucking well, you were made for me, doll, made to be fucked so good- Look at me.” Bucky growls, grabbing your jaw, and there’s no more hiding. Bucky’s eyes are dark and hungry on yours, and you can feel him everywhere as he splits you open. “Open.”

It takes one squeeze of your jaw for you to understand, but then you’re obeying without thought. 

“Let me hear you.” Bucky groans, his dick slamming right into that deep part of you. “C’mon, make all your pretty fuckin’ sounds for me babydoll-“

You let out a high, loud whine, and Bucky grins, the bed squeaking as his pace picks up. 

“Good girl.”

You were already sensitive from his mouth and fingers. And that’s enough. You fly back over the edge with a weak sound, your pussy squeezing and fluttering around Bucky’s cock, and somewhere far in the distance you can hear him roar your name as he slams home. 

It sends another, smaller aftershock orgasm through you again. It’s going to hurt to sit tomorrow. 

Good.

Bucky has the same habit when he cums in your pussy that he does with your mouth. Pulling just far enough out that he’s still pumping you full of him, all while allowing the rest of it to dribble down your thighs and onto your ass. The only difference is that with this, he’ll roll his cock right back into you, letting out a long groan as his brow drops to your shoulder.

You don’t know how long you both lay there. Bucky’s cock still filling you up, everything about him everywhere around you, your head lost in a daze of Bucky. So fucking good, and warm, and—in this stolen moment—yours.

Bucky takes a long, ragged breath, and slowly pulls out, leaving you a little aching and empty.

“Stay here, baby.” He mutters, and you hum. You’ll have to go soon. 

For now, you’re indulging yourself. 

Bucky’s cleaning up after himself, just like he always does. A warm, wet washcloth between your legs, and a kiss to your inner thigh that’s far too gentle. A little water and chocolate that he sits you up to eat, holding it out and glaring until you take it.

You sigh. “Bucky-“

“You need it.” He grunts. “You know you need it.”

He wasn’t wrong. You’re still a little lightheaded, and he’s left bruises on your hips that you love, and you know Bucky hates. He thinks they’re hurting you. It doesn’t matter that you asked him for it, he’s still going to hate them. 

He doesn’t know you fucking cry, like some pathetic, lovesick idiot, whenever they fade. To you, they’re proof he touched you. 

But you still take the water and food. Bucky wants you to, and you’ll do anything for him.

You’ll even participate in the dance where he crawls back into bed, pulls you into his body with his arms around your stomach, and presses a kiss to your shoulder. The game you both play where you pretend this is really the last time, and that you’re not going to be gone the moment Bucky’s asleep. It’s an odd game. He’s holding you because he’s pretending he’ll care if you go. You’re letting him because you want him to make you stay. You leave because you have to, if you want to survive. Bucky doesn’t stop you, because right now—if you ask either of you—that was the last time.

It won’t be. You always say it is, and you both know you’re far from the last time, but you also know that one day, there will be a last time. And it will break you, and Bucky won’t clean you up, and then you’ll just have to… Keep going.

And this is the worst part.

Bucky’s breathing is even behind you, and his body is relaxed. He’s done his part, and fallen asleep. Now you have to do yours, and leave. This was the last time—and even as you think it, you know it’s not the truth, but you have to pretend it is—and now you have to leave.

You start by trying to squirm away from him, but Bucky’s muscles flex, and suddenly you’re pinned tighter to his chest. Then you try to roll, and his legs tangle into yours. Prying arms away just makes him drag you closer. Trying to scramble quickly ends with him half on top of you.

This isn’t how the dance is supposed to go. 

You’re supposed to just leave. Without a fight, or resistance. Bucky’s supposed to stay asleep as you gather your clothing and slip out the door. He’s supposed to bunch all the blankets in his arm to replace where you’d been, and breathe out a little sigh of your name that makes you cry in the shower a few hours later.

He’s not supposed to be looking at you, when you roll over in his arms. 

“What are you doing?” You whisper.

“Tried to fuck you good enough you couldn’t walk away.” He mutters, watching you so fucking carefully. Like he’s afraid you’ll turn into nothing but air if he says the wrong thing. “Guess I shoulda known better.”

“Bucky-“

“You never stay.” He scans over your face, something painful in his eyes you don’t want to stare at for too long, or you’ll start crying. “Nothin’ I do is ever enough to make you stop leaving.”

“I leave because you never ask me to stay.” You whisper, and Bucky sighs.

“I never ask you to stay cause I think you want to leave.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You’re staring at each other, and being the first one to move—away or deeper into Bucky—is the most terrifying thought in the world. You could leave, and this will be the last time. And you’ll lose him. You’ll stay, and he’ll want you now but not later, and you’ll lose him. You’re going to lose him, because there’s no world where something this good just happens, and you want to stay but the most important thing about this has been never losing Bucky-

“If I ask you to stay,” Bucky mutters, tracing metal fingers carefully over your cheekbone. “What would you say? And before you answer,” he adds in a rushed tone. “I want to tell you something.”

You frown at him, your confusion obviously written all over your face, and Bucky sighs. 

“I’m not telling you because I’m tryin’ to make you stay. If you wanna go, you’re free. Won’t drag you back, no matter how much I want to.”

“Bucky,” you whisper, and you’re lying down, but you’re still a little dizzy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

“I love you.” His words are soft, but firm. Certain. And the world might have stopped moving. “I don’t know a lot, you know I don’t, but I know I love you. I’d do anythin’ for you, and that includes letting you go. If that’s what you want.”

“Bu-“

“Wait,” he shakes his head, holding your gaze. “I do want you to stay. If that’s what you’ve been waiting for, if that’s all I’ve had to do, then I love you,” he says your name, and the world must have stopped. This can only have happened because the world stopped, and everything dies, and now you’re in heaven. 

But Bucky’s warm and strong around you. And he feels real. Looks real. Tastes real, still lingering on your tongue.

You swallow. You have to speak slowly, or this might all slip through your fingers. “Are asking me to stay?”

“Think so.” He gives you a small, slightly nervous grin. “And let me love you. Be my girl. You know, if you’ll have me-“

“Of course I’ll have you.” The words fall out of you like you’re a waterfall, spilling into the river, but that’s just how this is. There’s gravity, so of course the water goes down. You love Bucky, so there’s no world where you don’t have him. 

Bucky raises his brows. “Of course?”

You nod, trying to ride the wave of frantic confidence, not allowing yourself to look anywhere but Bucky. “Yeah. I- I love you too.”

It’s good to say. You’ve spent so long choking on it, and now it’s free, and you can breathe so easily. You’d forgotten what it was like, to not be strangling yourself with your own secret. It’s like having a fruit after years of only eating ash.

But Bucky’s just staring at you with wide, deep, blue eyes, his lips parted and fingers still so carefully on your cheek.

He looks a little like an angel.

“You sure?” His voice is hoarse, but there’s something soft under it, and it’s the same thing you can feel in your heart.

Fear. Of losing something you’ve barely even had. 

But you want it. And Bucky wants you. 

So there’s nowhere else to go. All you have to do is stay here.

“Yeah,” you give him a small smile, and his grin splits his face. “I’m sure.”

You’ll talk later. For now Bucky just pulls you further into his body, and kisses the top of your head. In a way, that was the last time. And the first. 

Because you stay.

All through the night, and a long, long, long while after, you stay.

End Note: how many times do I have to write something like this before it happens to me?

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[jhyoos]

Fight For You

boxer!abby x model!reader

summary: you meet abby at a high-end party.

mentions: fame au, modern au, everyone is alive, mentions of ed, smoking, drinking, romance, angst, smut, fucking in the bathroom, oral & fingering (r!receiving).

author note: suprisingly this was highly requested ! very long fanfic so get something to eat!

You were a model—not a household name, not a face plastered on every billboard in Manhattan or Paris—but you walked. You moved. You made it somewhere. You’d been in a few Vogue spreads, dimly lit behind the star of the page. You’d walked Victoria’s Secret runways, wings stitched to your back like borrowed dreams. You weren’t the centerpiece, but you were there, shimmering in the glow of flashbulbs and eyes that didn't always see you.

As much as girls romanticized it—modeling was war. Polished smiles in front of the camera, but behind the scenes? It was elbows out, lips stitched shut. A competition of bone counts and measurements, where praise sounded like “you finally look thinner” and love came in the shape of hunger.

When you first started, your manager had you on diets so strict they felt like rituals—punishment masked as discipline. Celery sticks for breakfast, water for dinner, shame for dessert. There were nights when your body rebelled, when you’d throw everything up until your vision blurred and your ribs ached. You smiled anyway, because that’s what pretty girls did.

Then came the miracle.

Victoria’s Secret reached out. They wanted you—a new Angel. And God, you flew. You cried in the back of your Uber, mascara bleeding into your palms. When the official post dropped on their Instagram, your phone lit up like a Christmas tree. Follows. Blue checks. Brands. People cared.

And yet... people commented.

Under the glowing announcement, buried between the fire emojis and “she’s perfect,” came the venom. “She’s too thick to be an Angel.” “She doesn’t have the face for it.” “Bet she slept her way in.”

You told yourself not to look. You did anyway. You always did.

And you tried to brush it off. You liked the positive comments. You reposted the good ones. You told yourself the hate came with the fame. That it was just noise. But even angels have soft spots under their wings.

You weren’t famous-famous. You were known. Seen. Not always remembered. But in a world that wanted you to be skin and air, you were something real. And that, maybe, was enough.

Abby Anderson was everywhere.

Her face graced the cover of every major sports magazine—ESPN, Women’s Health, Boxing Monthly—always front and center, gloves slung over her shoulder like royalty, like muscle wrapped in silk. When competition season rolled around, her image lit up city billboards like neon prayers. Times Square. L.A. Live. Hell, even Tokyo had her gritted smile above the skyline.

She wasn’t just known—she was inevitable.

Her Instagram was a force of nature. Millions of followers, all eyes on her knuckles, her callouses, her workouts, her smirks. The caption could be two words—“Try me”—and it’d break the algorithm. Her fans called themselves the Anderson Army, flooding every comment section with love, awe, thirst. Her fights sold out in minutes. Pay-per-view numbers shattered records. Even people who didn’t watch boxing knew who she was.

Abby was a beast in the ring. Some called her a bull—not because she was reckless, but because she was unstoppable. Every match she walked into, she didn’t just win, she dominated. Her fists moved like poetry written in blunt force. Her footwork was tactical, brutal, almost unfair. Opponents fell before the second round like they knew what was coming.

And she looked damn good doing it.

Viral TikToks caught her mid-punch, sweat-glossed and godly, jawline sharp enough to cut diamonds. There were fan cams edited like music videos. Tweets that said, “Abby Anderson could knock me out and I’d say thank her.” Gym clips turned into thirst traps. She didn’t try to be hot—she just was.

She had the fame, the fans, the money, the muscles, the girls who lined up for a chance to be close. And her team? Top-tier. Nutritionists, trainers, publicists, stylists. Everything about her life looked like it was curated for a champion, and it was—because she earned it.

Every scar, every bruise, every early morning and broken rib—it paid off.

Abby Anderson had the world in a chokehold, and the world loved it.

Your friend was the kind of model who didn’t just walk runways—she owned them. Her name alone got invites to the most exclusive parties in the city, the kind of places where no phones were allowed but everyone knew everything that happened anyway. You were surprised when she asked you to be her plus-one.

“Please come,” she’d said, voice syrupy over the phone. “Some other friends are coming, but you're the only one who doesn’t drink. Help me make sober choices, yeah?”

You laughed softly but agreed. You couldn’t say no—not just because you cared, but because deep down, you wanted to see it. That other world. That forbidden, neon-lit underbelly of the elite.

She helped you pick out a dress, too—that dress. A black, sequined slip of a thing that clung to every curve like it had been sewn on with whispers. The neckline plunged like a dare, held up by the thinnest black straps. A small silver clasp cinched the cutout just beneath your chest, the only thing keeping the whole thing from unraveling completely. It was short—dangerously short—and it shimmered with every breath, every turn, catching the light like stars stuck to your skin. Paired with simple black heels and your hair down in soft waves, you looked like temptation bottled.

The party was already in full swing by the time you arrived.

It was hot—humid with bodies and bass, sweat and perfume clinging to the air. The kind of party where everyone was somebody. The room reeked of status, of secrecy. Celebrities you once idolized were tucked into dark corners, drinking like they were trying to forget their own names. Others were laughing too loudly, eyes glassy, pupils blown wide. The scent of weed, champagne, and something chemical lingered everywhere. A haze of smoke floated near the chandeliers like a ghost.

If only the paparazzi saw this. The unfiltered version of fame.

Your friend tugged you by the wrist to a booth she had rented out—elevated just enough to overlook the dance floor like a throne. You sat down, pressing your thighs together on the cold leather couch, the sequins of your dress crackling faintly. You nursed a single drink, barely sipping it as the others around you knocked shots back like water.

Laughter. Slurred voices. Someone snorted something off a phone screen. You stayed silent, posture poised, eyes scanning. Watching.

Eventually, your friend stood, swaying just a little. “I’m heading to the dance floor with them,” she said, already halfway gone.

You nodded, a little uneasy, but you understood. This was her scene.

Now it was just you. Sitting alone in a storm of sound and sweat, the only one not drunk, not high, not tangled up in the mess. Just quiet, calm, and breathtaking in your dress like a still frame inside a film reel spinning too fast.

You lasted longer than you thought you would—sitting pretty and still, the only clear head in a room full of beautiful chaos. But it was starting to crawl under your skin. The sound, the heat, the way the air felt like it was breathing you in. Your nerves were humming too loud for comfort. So, with a quiet sigh, you got up from the booth and decided to make your way to the bar.

Eyes followed you the moment you stood. Like hounds catching a scent.

You kept your gaze low, trying not to make contact. You weren’t here to mingle with the rich tweakers and chemically confident heirs of nothing. Every time someone tried to strike up a conversation, you gave them a single word—“No.” “Sorry.” “Taken.” Short. Sharp. Enough to cut without bleeding.

Then someone touched you.

A hand, too firm, closed around your arm. You stopped cold. Turned.

His face was familiar—he might’ve been in a movie, or maybe the son of someone who was. But his pupils were so wide they swallowed the color of his eyes, and the whites were streaked red like cracks in glass. He wasn’t just high. He was gone.

“Hey…” he slurred, breath sticky. “What you doing all alone?”

You flinched at his tone, at the sway of his body. Your stomach twisted, but you managed a polite, strained smile. “I’m not alone, sir. I’m here with my friends.”

“Mm,” he grinned, like he didn’t believe you. Like he didn’t care. He tugged your arm, pulling you closer like you were some party favor to unwrap.

Your heart skipped in fear and instinct—your fingers grabbed at your arm, trying to yank free.

“You got a boyfriend?” he asked, voice low and greasy.

“I—”

Before you could answer, you felt a heavy hand on your shoulder. Solid. Protective. Warm.

“Fuck off,” a deep voice growled behind you. “She’s with me.”

The guy froze. His hand dropped like he’d touched fire.

You turned your head—and there she was.

Abby Anderson.

She stood tall, her shadow swallowing the guy whole. Muscles carved into her like she’d been sculpted, not born. Her jaw clenched just enough to say try me. The air shifted. The guy muttered something, barely audible, then backed off into the crowd like a kicked dog.

You exhaled for what felt like the first time in minutes.

“Thank you so much,” you said, voice still shaky with adrenaline.

“No problem,” Abby replied, eyes steady on yours.

Then she looked you up and down—slowly, deliberately. Her gaze lingered at your dress, lips twitching in approval. “You want a drink?” she asked.

You nodded. “Yeah... I was on my way to the bar.”

“Perfect,” she said, her hand brushing your lower back. “Let’s go.”

The dance floor was a different world entirely—smoke in the air, lights strobing in pulses of red and gold, bodies packed so tight you could feel the music in your bones. It wasn’t dancing, not really. It was moving, grinding, existing too close and not close enough all at once.

Abby held your hand as she led you through the crowd like she knew exactly where to go. Her grip was firm, grounding. She stopped in the center, surrounded by heat and rhythm, and turned to face you with a look that was half playful, half something deeper.

You bit your lip. “So this is the part where you pretend to dance?”

Abby chuckled, hands already settling on your waist. “Nah. This is the part where I let you lead and pretend I’m doing something.”

The bass thumped through the floor, into your heels, your spine. You started slow, swaying your hips to the beat, your hands brushing up Abby’s chest to hook behind her neck. She followed your rhythm effortlessly, bodies pressed just enough to tease, but not quite enough to satisfy.

She was warm, solid, her scent sharp and clean beneath the smoke and sweat. Her gaze didn’t leave yours—not for a second. Not even when your thighs brushed, not even when your hips tilted forward in a soft, suggestive grind.

You felt her breath catch. Yours did too.

You tilted your head up, lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “Still pretending?” you whispered.

“No,” she breathed. “Not anymore.”

Her hands slid down to your hips, pulling you flush against her. Every motion was slow and deliberate, like she was trying to memorize how you moved, how your body fit into hers.

Your hands were in her hair now, fingers threading through the strands as your mouth hovered near hers, your noses touching, foreheads brushing.

And then—

She kissed you.

Right there on the dance floor, under a flickering red light, while the whole room spun and bodies crashed around you. Her lips crashed into yours with a heat that left no room for second thoughts. It was messy and perfect, her mouth tasting like whiskey and victory. Her hand slid up your back, cradling the base of your neck like you were something precious, and the kiss deepened—tongues brushing, teeth grazing, everything hungry and real.

You kissed her like you were tired of pretending. Like the night belonged to you both and everyone else was just noise.

By the time you pulled away, breathless and dazed, her forehead was still pressed to yours, eyes half-lidded, lips slick from yours.

“Still wanna call it one dance?” you asked, voice husky.

She smirked, lips brushing yours again. “Nah. I’m not done with you yet.”

“Come with me,” she murmured, her voice like gravel and silk.

She took your hand again—firmer this time—and pulled you through the crowd. Past the dancers. Past the bar. You barely noticed where you were going, but when she pushed open the heavy black door and the cool tile of the upscale bathroom greeted your heels, it hit you—

This wasn’t gonna be a quiet conversation.

The door clicked shut behind you, muffling the chaos outside. The room was dim, bathed in golden light from crystal fixtures on the walls. Too pretty a place for what was about to happen.

You turned around to face her, but Abby was already close again, crowding into your space in the most delicious way. Her hands found your hips, then slid around to your lower back, pulling you against her like she needed you there.

“You’ve been driving me crazy all night,” she whispered, leaning down, lips brushing over your jaw. “Walking around like that in that little black dress…”

Your breath caught as her mouth ghosted along your skin—cheek to jaw to neck.

“I didn’t know I’d catch a boxer’s attention,” you teased, voice barely steady.

Abby’s teeth scraped lightly against your throat, just enough to make your knees wobble.

“You caught a lot more than that,” she growled. “You think I was just gonna let you sit there alone, looking like that? Not a chance.”

Her lips met yours again, but this time it was rougher—needy. Her hands explored your back, your sides, fingers grazing bare skin as she pushed you gently until your back hit the cool tile wall. The contrast made you gasp, and she took full advantage, deepening the kiss like she owned your mouth, like she’d waited too long already.

Your hands were in her hair again, tugging gently, nails dragging along her scalp. She groaned into your mouth, one hand sliding down to your thigh—lifting it so it rested against her hip.

You moaned softly as the pressure between you built, your bodies locked together in this stolen moment of heat and hunger and want.

“Say the word,” she breathed against your lips, her hand hovering, waiting.

“I want this,” you whispered. “I want you.”

That was all she needed.

Her lips brushed yours—not a kiss yet, just the idea of one. Soft enough to make your breath catch. Her nose nudged yours, foreheads touching. You could smell her—warm and clean beneath the sweat and cologne, with a faint trace of whiskey still on her breath.

Her hand slid up your thigh, knuckles grazing the hem of your dress. “This is driving me insane,” she whispered. “You in this little thing, walking around like you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

You grinned, high on the rush. “Maybe I do.”

Abby groaned, a low sound in the back of her throat that lit you up from the inside out. Her mouth met yours in a kiss that melted all the air between you. Her lips were soft but firm, her hand gripping your waist, dragging you into her as if she couldn’t bear even an inch of space left untouched.

You whimpered into her mouth when she pressed you harder into the wall, thigh slipping between yours, nudging upward with steady pressure.

“You’re already warm,” she whispered against your lips, voice thick and ragged. “And fuck—you’re shaking.”

You were. It wasn’t fear. It was anticipation, trembling like your body already knew what was coming.

Her hands moved with purpose—sliding up your sides, over your ribs, finding the zipper of your dress and pausing. “Can I?” she asked, voice low.

You nodded.

The zipper purred down, slow and deliberate, as cool air kissed the skin of your back. Your dress slipped from your shoulders like it was made to fall. Abby let it, guiding it down your arms until it pooled around your feet.

The way she looked at you then—

Like she was starving. Like you were everything.

Her hands roamed up your thighs, trailing goosebumps in their wake. Her palms were rough, used to wrapping around gloves and landing punches, but they touched you like silk. Her fingers splayed across your stomach, thumbs brushing the underside of your bra as she leaned in and kissed the base of your throat—slow, reverent.

“You’re unreal,” she murmured against your skin.

You tilted your head back, a soft moan escaping you as her lips traveled down your collarbone, every kiss a promise, every pause a test of restraint. She took her time, building you up with touches and kisses so gentle you felt like you were going to come apart before she even got there.

She dropped to her knees, lips ghosting over your stomach now, her hands gripping your thighs again. You looked down at her—this powerhouse of a woman, a boxer with bruised knuckles and fire in her eyes—kneeling for you, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Abby…”

“I got you,” she whispered. “I want to take care of you.”

And the way she said that?

It didn’t sound like a pick-up line.

It sounded like a promise.

Her mouth pressed a kiss to your hipbone. Then another. Then lower.

You threaded your fingers into her hair, back arching as you felt her breath where you needed her most, every nerve ending screaming awake, your whole body aching for her.

When her mouth finally met your skin, hot and slow and deliberate, you gasped—and that was when you stopped thinking altogether.

You were hers. In this moment. In this heat.

Your breath hitched, when you felt her mouth on your heat, exploring you.

She picked up on every whine you made in certain spots and attacked them with her tongue.

"Fuck you're so sweet," she mumbled against you which made up moan.

She was slow, at first. torturously soft licks and kisses on your clit that made your knees buckle. Then deeper—pressing and sucking in a rhythm that felt otherworldly. You gripped her hair, fingers tangling in her golden strands, moaning shamelessly as she devoured you like it was the only thing she needed to survive.

She worked you open like a prizefighter dissecting her opponent—calculated, relentless, skilled. She knew exactly when to add pressure, when to ease up, when to slide her two thick fingers inside you and curl them just right, making you yell out her name in pleasure.

She sucked on your clit as she continued to finger you. The sound of your arousal filled the bathroom as she fingered you. "Fuck Abby," you moaned out.

The sound of your voice moaning out her name only made her more determined to make you cum. Her fingers got faster and your moans only got louder.

You heard loud knocks on the bathroom door and a few voices, but that didnt stop Abby as you grew closer to your climax.

Abby pulled her mouth away and stood, her fingers still inside of you as she kept a steady pace. Her thumb rubbing your abused and swollen clit making you tremble. She used her other hand to grab your throat, gripping it with just enough pressure. "Are you gonna cum?," she whispered.

"Yes...fuck yes. I'm so close," you whined.

"Be a good girl and cum all over my fingers," she commands.

After a few more pumps of her fingers inside of your cunt. You came and hard. Abby kissed you muffling your moans as she slowed her pace, helping you calm down from your high.

The silence after the storm was thick and golden.

Your chest was rising and falling fast, dress wrinkled and hanging low on your hips, hair a wild halo around your flushed face.

You both stayed like that for a few heartbeats—no words, just the sound of your breathing and the muted thump of the party outside, miles away from the moment you were in.

Then, slowly, Abby's big hands gently slid up your sides.

“You good?” she asked, voice hoarse and low, her thumb brushing along your jaw.

You nodded, still breathless. “Yeah,” you murmured, a lazy smile tugging at your lips. “Very good.”

She let out a soft laugh, something cocky and proud warming her expression. “Yeah? Scale of one to ten?”

You leaned back against the wall, eyes twinkling. “Ten. Maybe eleven.”

“Damn right,” she said, grinning now, stepping behind you to pull the straps of your dress back over your shoulders.

Her fingers moved deftly, pulling the zipper up in a slow, smooth line that sent a fresh shiver down your spine.

Then you turned around to face her and—

“Oh my God,” you giggled, pressing a hand to your mouth.

“What?” Abby blinked, instantly alert. “Did I mess up the zipper?”

“No,” you said, biting your lip to stop from laughing. “You’ve got lipstick all over your mouth. Like… everywhere. You look like you fought a tube of MAC and lost.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That bad?”

You nodded, laughing now, reaching up to wipe her face gently with your thumb. “You look ridiculous. Hot, but ridiculous.”

Abby grinned, totally unfazed. “Badge of honor.”

Then—bam bam bam—a sudden knock on the bathroom door, followed by the obnoxious giggle of some drunk stranger.

“Yo, hurry up in there! We gotta piss!”

Abby rolled her eyes and looked at you with a smirk. “And just like that… the moment’s gone.”

You both burst out laughing, quietly, like a shared secret. She reached for the door handle, pausing just before she opened it.

“You wanna get outta here?” she asked. “We can go somewhere quieter. Talk. Or… not talk.”

You tilted your head, smiling soft, still feeling the fire she left behind glowing low in your belly.

“Yeah,” you said. “I’d like that.”

The bathroom door swung open and the two of you stepped out, back into the chaos.

The music hit first—thick, heavy, vibrating through your chest. Then came the blur of heat, perfume, weed, strobe lights flickering off mirrored walls. People pressed in from every side, some dancing, some spilling drinks, all of them moving like they were floating through honey.

But you weren’t really paying attention to any of it—your focus was still wrapped around Abby, your skin still buzzing where she touched you.

Then—

“Baaaaabe!” your friend slurred, suddenly appearing from the crowd like a glittering, unhinged fairy. Her dress was sliding off one shoulder and her mascara had migrated halfway down her cheek, but she was grinning ear to ear, holding a bottle of something pink and dangerous.

She threw her arms around you in a sloppy hug. “We’re leaaavinggg,” she declared, then looked up at you with wide eyes. “I want Whataburger. Like now.”

You blinked. “You’re hungry?”

“I’m starviiing,” she drawled, stumbling a little in her platforms. “I want fries. And a honey butter chicken biscuit. And you’re drivinggg.”

Of course. You should’ve known. Mom friend mode: activated.

You turned back to Abby, who stood there watching you with that low smirk that made your knees weak. Her hair was tousled now, lips wiped clean, but her eyes still held that same heat from the bathroom. That want.

You hesitated. “I’m sorry,” you said, stepping closer, keeping your voice low. “I gotta take care of her. But I’ll—um—I’ll add you on Instagram. And we can text. Set something up. Soon.”

Abby nodded, the smirk shifting into something softer. “Yeah,” she said. “I’ll be waiting. Don’t leave me on read.”

You smiled, heart fluttering a little. “I won’t.”

And even though it wasn’t a kiss goodbye, there was something electric in the way your eyes lingered on each other just a second too long, like the universe wasn’t done with this yet.

Then your friend yanked on your hand. “WHATABURGER, BITCH.”

You laughed, throwing one last look over your shoulder at Abby before diving into the crowd, one arm wrapped around your intoxicated bestie, guiding her like a lighthouse through a sea of chaos.

Your phone buzzed in your purse.

A follow request from Abby Anderson.

Your friend was still tearing up her Whataburger like it was a competition and she was winning gold. Honey butter chicken biscuit? Gone. Fries? Vanishing. Drink? Half-empty and clutched in her glittered claws like she was fighting dehydration and heartbreak.

You? You were in another world, sipping your diet coke and staring at your phone like it had just whispered something sinful.

[1 notification] abbytheanderson sent you a follow request.

You blinked. Already? You hadn’t even left the damn parking lot. She was good.

You tapped accept, and no lie—your stomach flipped like it was performing stunts. Not even thirty seconds later, another buzz.

abbytheanderson 🥊: hey beautiful

You bit down on a smile, typing back before your brain could overthink it.

you: hey you :)

Buzz.

abbytheanderson 🥊: couldn’t let you disappear like that. you left me wanting more.

You swore your pulse skipped. This woman had a black belt in flirting.

you: good thing you found me then

abbytheanderson 🥊: definitely. hey, random—but you free this weekend?

Your heart sped up. You took a quick sip of your drink to cool down your face, fingers dancing over the keyboard.

you: yeah, i think so. why?

abbytheanderson 🥊: there’s a film showcase downtown. some sports doc screening, bunch of celebs. got an invite +1, and i figured it might be more fun with you.

A movie showcase. That was not casual. That was dress up, flashbulbs, maybe a red carpet territory. Your stomach turned into champagne bubbles.

you: you want me to be your date?

abbytheanderson 🥊: unless you’ve got another famous boxer in your dms rn 👀

You laughed into your drink.

you: nope. just the hottest one.

abbytheanderson 🥊: damn right. i’ll pick you up saturday. wear something that’ll make me stare the whole night.

You locked your phone with a sigh, brain short-circuiting. Your bestie looked up from her fries with ketchup on her cheek.

“Why do you look like you just got proposed to?”

You smiled into your straw. “I’ve got a date.”

Your best friend stood behind you, clutching a makeup brush like it was a wand. "Sit still or I’m gonna make your winged liner look like a lightning bolt."

You giggled, sipping your iced coffee while she dabbed a warm highlight onto your cheekbones. “If Abby sees me and combusts, I blame you.”

She winked. “That’s the goal.”

The dress was hanging up on the door like it needed its own spotlight.

It was the dress—like Aphrodite and red carpet royalty had a baby and named her “divine.” A shimmering champagne gold that sparkled under even the faintest light, clinging to your curves like it was sculpted just for your body. The fabric was sheer but layered in all the right places, ruched along the hips and gathered at the waist in a delicate knot that accentuated everything. Strapless and sensual, the neckline cupped your chest softly and dipped into a subtle sweetheart shape, drawing the eye upward—no necklace needed, just collarbones and confidence.

The choker was a sheer mesh ribbon, soft and romantic, tied in the back like a little secret. And in your hand? A small velvet clutch that looked like luxury.

"Okay," your friend said, stepping back and crossing her arms like a proud stylist. "You look like you're about to walk into a movie and walk out with the star."

You turned to the mirror and exhaled. You looked… expensive. Golden. Ethereal.

And somewhere out there, Abby Anderson was probably trying to tie a tie and not think about your lips.

“Okay,” you said, smoothing your dress down, trying not to ruin your makeup by grinning too hard. “Let’s go melt her brain.”

The car door clicked shut behind you, heels clicking on the pavement like your own entrance music. The showcase was already buzzing—paparazzi lights flashing in bursts, guests in tailored designer looks pouring into the venue like liquid silk and velvet. Your driver looped back around, and your friend gave you a quick squeeze on the hand.

“You got this. Go make that boxer wish she had a mouthguard.”

You grinned, rolling your eyes and walking toward the entrance, that golden dress shimmering with every step like you were dipped in honey and starfire. The fabric clung just enough to whisper with movement, catching the camera flashes even when they weren’t aimed at you. Heads turned. People stared. And somewhere near the doors—

She saw you.

Abby was standing near the carpet, talking to some guy in a sports jacket, but the second her eyes landed on you? Conversation dead. Her jaw? Slightly dropped. Like someone had just uppercut her with Cupid’s fist.

She looked… good. Too good. A tailored black suit, no tie, but the first two buttons of her shirt open to show a bit of her collarbone and that stupidly strong chest. Her hair slicked back like she stepped off a Vogue Homme cover, one hand in her pocket, the other holding a drink she no longer remembered existed.

You saw her lips move—"Holy shit."

You floated up to her like you were gliding, heels clicking like punctuation to her stunned silence.

“Hey,” you said, giving her a smile that would’ve won wars. “I clean up alright, huh?”

“‘Alright’?” Abby shook her head slowly, eyes never leaving you, and damn if there wasn’t a glint of something primal in them. “You look like a damn goddess.”

You blushed, biting your lip just a little. “Not bad for a plus-one?”

“I’m upgrading your title. You’re the main event now.”

She reached out, offering you her arm like some old Hollywood gentleman, but the smirk on her face was all Abby—cocky, smooth, a little dangerous.

You took it.

The two of you walked the carpet together, and the cameras noticed. Photographers subtly turned toward the tall boxer and the glowing mystery girl on her arm. Whispers floated like perfume: “Is that Abby Anderson’s date?” “Who is she?” “She looks like a star.”

Inside, the lights were dimmer, the ambiance expensive and dramatic—velvet seats, champagne trays, and a giant screen waiting for the showcase to begin. Abby guided you to your seats, but not without sneaking glances at you like you were illegal and she wanted to get arrested.

“So,” she murmured, leaning close once you were seated. “What are the odds I get you to be my plus-one again? I was thinking… a real date. One with dessert and less paparazzi.”

You looked at her, still glowing from the lights, the crowd, the adrenaline.

“I’d say the odds are pretty high,” you whispered back.

She grinned, and you swore your stomach did a little backflip.

The movie hadn’t even started, but you already felt like you were living in one.

The afterparty was on the rooftop of the venue—elevators opening to golden lights strung like constellations, sleek white lounges, and a panoramic view of the city glittering below like a spilled jewelry box. The music was mellow, expensive-sounding. People sipped cocktails like they were made of stardust and name-dropped producers like prayers.

Abby got swept into a circle of suits and sharp smiles, people clapping her on the back, toasting to her latest win, asking questions with ulterior motives. She smiled through it, charming without trying, but you could feel her eyes flick to you every few minutes.

You wandered off to the ledge, the wind teasing your hair, your dress still glowing faintly under the rooftop lights. You leaned your elbows on the glass railing, the city stretching out like a promise, the hum of nightlife pulsing below you like a heartbeat.

Your drink was cold in your hand, but your skin still buzzed from earlier—her arm on yours, the way she looked at you like you were art in motion.

“Hey.”

Her voice came soft behind you, lower now, free of the public version of herself. You turned and found her there, hands in her pockets, her suit jacket open just enough to make your pulse trip.

“You done charming the VIPs?” you teased.

She gave a low chuckle, stepping up beside you. “They were boring as hell. I missed this view.”

You raised a brow. “The skyline?”

“No,” she said without hesitation, her eyes dragging down your profile like a caress. “You.”

That earned her a quiet laugh from you, heat rushing up your neck. “You’re really laying it on tonight, huh?”

“I’m just saying what I’m thinking.” Her shoulder brushed yours. “So… what do you do when you’re not breaking hearts in golden dresses?”

You hesitated for a second, still looking out at the city. “I model. Victoria’s Secret.”

That made her blink. “Wait—seriously?”

You nodded, a little sheepish. “I mean… I’m not like, one of those Angels. I’m usually backup. Fill-ins. Commercial stuff. They don’t exactly put me on billboards in Times Square.”

Abby looked at you for a long moment, her head tilted. “That’s wild.”

“What is?”

“That there are people out there who didn’t put you on a billboard. I’d hang a photo of you in every damn room of my house.”

You turned to her with a laugh, playful and warm. “Wow, romantic and a little bit stalker-y. Impressive.”

She grinned, closing the small space between you. “Tell me where the line is, and I’ll try not to cross it.”

You looked at her. Really looked. The city lights caught in her eyes, and something about her felt safe even in the middle of all this chaos. You smiled, heart softening.

“There’s no line,” you murmured.

Abby’s smile shifted, gentler now. She looked at you like you were something to be unwrapped slowly. “Then I’ll keep standing right here.”

You turned toward her fully now, leaning your hip against the railing, one hand cradling your glass while the other played with the condensation on the side. The wind tugged gently at the fabric of your dress, making it shimmer even more in the light. Abby was looking at you like you were unreal, but she blinked when you spoke, brought back to the present.

“So…” you tilted your head, curiosity playing in your voice. “Why boxing?”

That made her smile, and not the kind she gave the higher-ups—this one was smaller, more personal, like a story lived too long in her chest.

She shrugged a little. “I used to watch it on TV with my dad. Every Saturday night. He was always busy at the hospital, but when there was a fight on, we were synced. Like… we got each other.”

You nodded softly, listening.

“I started wrestling in school—figured it was the closest I could get. Got recruited, did alright. But it never felt like mine, y’know? Then I tried boxing. First time I landed a punch clean, everything clicked. I was like—this is it. This is the fire.”

You bit your lip, something warm blooming in your chest. There was a sparkle in her eyes now, not from the city lights, but from the weight of meaning behind her words. Passion always looked good on people—but on Abby? It was devastating.

“That’s hot,” you said, softly but truthfully. “Like, actually hot. You knowing who you are like that.”

She huffed a little laugh, rubbing the back of her neck, suddenly sheepish. “You’re the first person I’ve told that to in a while.”

You shrugged, eyes twinkling. “Well… you picked the right person. I’m an excellent secret-keeper. They don’t let just anyone model underwear, you know.”

That made her grin wide, her eyes roaming your face like she was trying to memorize it. “You really gonna keep talking like that and not expect me to kiss you again?”

Your breath caught a little, heartbeat fluttering as the tension curled tighter between you like a string pulled taut.

“I mean,” you whispered, leaning in just an inch, “I wouldn’t be mad if you did.”

She didn’t rush. Abby leaned forward slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted—but you didn’t. You leaned in, too, until your lips met in a soft, barely-there kiss. Not like the heated one from the club. This one was warm and lingering, like a question you already knew the answer to.

When you finally pulled back, both of you smiling, you rested your head lightly against her shoulder, looking back out at the glittering skyline.

“So…” you murmured, “You planning on knocking anyone out tonight, champ?”

She smirked. “Only if they try to take you from me.”

The car ride back was quiet in a good way. Abby drove with one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally brushing your thigh like she just had to remind herself you were really there. The city outside the window melted by in a blur of neon and soft shadows, and the gentle beat of the music wrapped around you like a lullaby.

By the time you reached your apartment, the air had cooled down to a soft breeze, lifting the hem of your dress and brushing over your skin like a whisper. Abby parked and got out before you could even reach for the door handle. She walked you to your door like a proper date, her hands in her pockets, her steps slow—like she didn’t want the night to end just yet.

You turned to face her at your door, heels clicking softly against the concrete. “Thank you for tonight,” you said, your voice warm and low, your smile a little sleepy but no less sincere.

Abby looked down at you with that easy grin of hers, one side of her mouth curling higher than the other. “No problem, angel,” she murmured. The nickname settled on your skin like velvet, making your cheeks heat in the soft moonlight.

You turned to unlock your door, keys jingling—but something stopped you. A quiet little nudge in your chest. You turned back around, heart kicking up a notch. She looked surprised at first when you stepped toward her, but she didn’t ask questions.

You leaned in and kissed her.

This one was slower. Softer. There wasn’t any club music thudding behind you this time, no crowd, no chaos. Just the two of you and the buzz of the porch light. Her lips tasted like the mint gum she always chewed, yours like sweet gloss and maybe a little bit of stardust.

When you finally pulled away, her eyes fluttered open like she’d been floating somewhere far off.

She smirked and licked her lips, clearly feeling the gloss residue.

You laughed quietly, hand brushing her chest as you stepped back toward the door. “I put on just lip gloss this time… so it’s not hard to take off.”

She grinned, something a little cocky flickering behind her lashes. “You planned that?”

You winked. “Maybe.”

“Smart girl,” she murmured, biting her bottom lip before taking a slow step back. “I’ll text you when I get home.”

You nodded, your fingers resting on the doorframe, reluctant to let the night end. “Okay. Drive safe.”

“Always do,” she said, and then—one last look, one last smirk—she turned and walked back toward her car, the night gently folding around her.

You leaned against the door with a quiet exhale, smiling to yourself like a fool.

an : i don't want it to be too long...so part 2 coming soon!

[l0vergirlwrites]

Absolutely OBSESSED with ur fics girl 🫶🫶, could you by any chance do one where Spencer has surgery (maybe he got injured in the field or smth) and afterwards he’s on anaesthesia, and reader is taking him home and Spence doesn’t recognize her cause he’s high AF and is like “back off I have a gf (referring to reader)” and is all like complimenting her and stuff??? I definitely did not get this from a tiktok HAHA (it would probably have to be season 1 Spencer tho cause we all know how Spencer feels about narcotics in the later season 😭😭)

TYYY ANYWAYS I LOVE UR WORK AHHH AND EVEN IF YOU DONT DO THIS THATS ALGDS CAUSE UR A QUEEN ❤️❤️

anaesthetic makes the heart grow fond ; spencer reid

synopsis: after getting his wisdom teeth removed, it only makes sense that you’re the only thing on spencer’s mind. but when he doesn’t initially recognize you under his anaesthetic haze, you can’t help but play along & feel yourself fall harder for him.

warnings: established relationship with spencer & fem!reader, mentions of blood & wisdom teeth related themes, spencer just being a total goof & lover boy (season 1 spencer particularly)

note: thank you so much for the request! & thank you for the compliment, you’re so kind anon! i hope you enjoy 💌

“… here is a list of his prescribed medications. they should be ready to be picked up at his selected pharmacy later today…”.

with his eyes shut, spencer tried to listen closely to the muffled voices from the hallway as he breathed in & out through his nose, his mouth feeling heavy from his swelling cheeks & gauze pressed firm into his gums.

he couldn’t shake the cold feeling that still spread from hushed head to his toes, knowing that it was from the local anaesthetic his dentist administered.

but it still made his stomach a little queasy.

“are you feeling a bit warmer now, baby?” a soft voice spoke with accompanying footsteps, causing spencer to open his hazel eyes.

he looked at you a little hazy, eyes blinking slow as he tried to speak, but the action hurt more than he thought it would.

leaning closer to the long chair he occupied, you grabbed one of his hands & rubbed a star like pattern onto his knuckles, shushing him gently. your touch sent shivers down spencer’s spine, spreading all over his skin like molasses.

it felt nice.

“gotta speak slow, spence. don’t want to hurt your mouth too much okay?”.

your eyes scanned his face, lips turning into a sympathetic smile because you could see the exhaustion & pain riddled in his face, causing you to rise your free hand to smooth the cress between his eyebrows.

he spoke your name slow & choppy, mumbling the word ‘girlfriend’ three times in a row for good measure. his voice was muffled by the gauze that pressed into his bleeding gums, but you got the message loud & clear.

you squeezed his hand, palm warm against his cooler one. “i’m right here, baby. we’re gonna go home soon when you’re a little less loopy”. but spencer wasn’t satisfied with your response.

he groaned, more so whined, as mumbled your name with desperation. “i miss her… have you seen her? she’s my girlfriend”.

a nurse typing at the computer inches away couldn’t help but snort.

but you decided to play along & see how long it would take for him to realize it was really you.

“hmmm, i think i saw her. what does she look like?” you asked as you adjusted the blanket over his body, watching spencer’s gaze fall onto your face like you were just another person.

it was like he was looking at you through frosted glass.

closing his eyes, a sleepy smile graced his lips despite the movement making him wince uncomfortably, drool slipping out his mouth as he spoke. “pretty hair, pretty eyes, pretty face, smells like flowers… you sort of look like her” he said dreamily, & now you couldn’t help but snort too.

“oh really? that’s so sweet” you could feel your face growing warm. “how long have you two been together?”.

“long time… many moons…” you laughed his emphasis of saying the o’s.

“you must love her a lot, hmm?”

“so so so much,” spencer emphasized. “she’s my favourite person on earth, besides my mom”.

you wished you were recording his for your own personal stash of ‘spencer reid being the most adorable person ever’ moments, but you didn’t have the heart to pull your touch away from him.

brushing a stray strand of hair off his forehead, you lightly frowned when he leaned away from your touch.

“my girlfriend won’t like you doing that” spencer blinked at you again, watching his eyes scan over your form as he tried to process who you were in his mind, but it came up blank. probably for the first time ever.

you looked so familiar. it was on the tip of his tongue for sure.

“i’m sorry” no you weren’t. “does she do that often?,” he hummed. “what else does she do?”

this got spencer to kick into full tangent mode despite the ache in his jaw, animatedly lifting his hands from the blanket as he listed various things you do in fact do for him. you nodded your head & listened intently to each one, feeling your heart ache with each sentiment he said as you wiped blood-tinted salvia from his chin with a kleenex.

“… she knows what shampoo i like, buys me lots of sweater vests, does this thing when she holds my hand—her hands are always so soft… reminds me of… ” spencer began to drift off there, eyes drifting from the button of your cardigan to your hand on his, thumb rubbing stars onto his skin.

a surprised gasp left his lips then, eyes snapping back to yours like he just solved a case. your name rolled off his tongue languidly, a tear rolling down his cheek, eyes shining with admiration when he processed everything he was seeing; your smile lines, that twinkle in your pupil, the freckles he loves to kiss repeatedly… it’s you.

“i can’t believe you’re here!” gleaming with happiness, spencer intertwined his fingers with yours hurriedly, wanting needing you closer because he missed you so dearly, because he yearned for your touch.

wiping the tear that slipped down the apple of his cheek, the sound of your sweet laughter caused spencer to visibly swoon.

“of course i’m here, spence. told you i’d take care of you” you pressed a cautious cheek to his swelling cheek, his skin flushing pink as if the gesture just brought him back to life.

his eyes soon fell closed again as he scooted ever so slightly closer to you, nuzzling his cheek into your palm for relief as the dentist walked back into the room. she was clearly amused with the scene, but didn’t comment on it.

within minutes, the two of you were given the go ahead to leave, but not without a starter care kit & instructions on how to replace the gauze & clean spencer’s wisdom teeth sockets.

“i think i dreamed of your eyes when i went under” he mumbled as he practically stuck to your side like glue while you two walked through the parking lot, his body weight supported by your arm wrapped around his torso. “your irises are my favourite, they look like marbled ice cream…”

you just shook your head & played into his antics, doing your best to get him securely sir in the passenger seat without hitting his head on the car door frame. it took longer than you expected, leaving you huffing for a breath of air once his seatbelt clicked in place.

“don’t move too much, baby. just relax while i close the door. we gotta pick up your medication before we go home”.

“but i don’t want to let go of your hand” spencer pouted, the once white gauze in his mouth now turning into a darker shade of pink.

kissing his temple, you gave his hand one final squeeze. “you can hold it again when i get into the car. deal?”

“okay. i love when you call me that”.

“baby?”.

spencer broke out into the best toothy grin he could muster at the moment when you said the pet name once more.

he earned another kiss for that.

for the entirety of the drive to the pharmacy, your hand stayed in the safety of spencer’s lap with his fingers continuously dancing across your skin. he would ramble facts about your palm lines & how he thinks your his soulmate due to your fingerprints, while you occasionally had to remind him not to try touching your eyes as you drove.

you’re not so sure if there was a scientific method to prove that your fingerprints do in fact mean that both of your souls are tied to one another, but you were definitely sure of one thing; you wished you could hold onto spencer’s hand forever & never let go.

[maskedbyghost]

hear me out possessive reader x Simon who got into a petty argument earlier that night and course they’re both stubborn, neither willingly to apologize so later that night when they go out to a bar and a girl comes up to flirt with Simon (obviously they both aren’t sitting together, too petty) Simon doesn’t flirt back but he also doesn’t stop the girl from flirting with him. Then maybe that leads to semi public angry sex? In the bathroom, car or maybe alleyway? (≧ᗜ≦)ᡣ𐭩

anyways whatever you do I’m sure will be great!!

you just knew exactly what chaos you were unleashing when you asked for petty arguments, jealousy, and bathroom sex and honestly? you deserve a medal. thank you for the request <333 nsfw (18+), public sex (bathroom), possessive/jealous behavior, angry sex, rough handling (grabbing, hair pulling), slight dom!reader, unprotected sex

You were still pissed when you got to the bar, still wearing the same ugly little scowl you'd had in the car, arms crossed tight, sitting two seats away from Simon like you couldn’t even stand to be next to him, and honestly, if it wasn’t for the way he kept looking at you out of the corner of his eye, you might've actually believed he didn’t give a shit either.

You didn't even remember what the argument was about, something stupid, something about the laundry or the dishes or maybe about the way you kept stealing his shirts and he kept pretending not to care until you pushed a little too far and now here you were, pretending you didn’t want to climb across the bar and bite his stupid smug face off.

You were nursing your drink and ignoring him as hard as you could when she showed up — all bright eyes and big smiles, standing too close to him, hair flipping over her shoulder like she was in a commercial, laughing at something he didn’t even say, and you caught it, the way Simon didn't flirt back, but he sure as hell didn't stop her either, just sat there like a goddamn statue while she pawed at his arm and leaned in too close and touched the back of his hand like she had any fucking right.

You watched it for maybe ten seconds too long, clenching your jaw so hard your teeth hurt, your whole body coiled so tight you thought something inside you might snap, and when Simon caught your eye over her shoulder and smirked — that lazy, slow, come and get me smirk — you knew you were gonna lose it.

You slammed your drink back and stood up fast enough to knock your stool over, and if anyone in the bar noticed, you didn’t care, you were already stalking toward him, your boots heavy on the sticky floor, your heartbeat a mean little drum against your ribs.

You didn't say a word when you reached him, just grabbed a fistful of the back of his hoodie and yanked, hard enough to make him stumble off the stool, hard enough that the girl gasped and stepped back, all wide eyes and clutching her purse like she was the victim here.

Simon went with it, of course he did, laughing low under his breath like he was having the time of his life while you dragged him toward the bathrooms, shoving the door open hard enough that it banged against the wall, ignoring the people who turned to look because you didn't give a single fuck about appearances anymore.

The second the door swung shut behind you, you shoved him up against the sink, grabbed his face in both hands, kissed him like you wanted to punish him for breathing, for looking good, for letting someone else think she even had a chance, biting his lower lip hard enough that he groaned into your mouth and grabbed your hips, trying to pull you closer.

"You liked that, huh?" you snarled against his mouth, nipping your way along his jaw, biting just under his ear where you knew he was sensitive, where you knew he'd make that broken little noise you liked so much, and sure enough he shuddered and squeezed your waist tighter.

"Didn't do anything," he rasped, but you could feel the way his cock twitched against your thigh, could feel how fucking gone he already was, and it only made you meaner.

"You let her touch you," you hissed, shoving him back just enough so you could hop up onto the sink, dragging him between your thighs like you owned him, fumbling his belt open, yanking his jeans and briefs down just enough to free him, rough and messy because you didn’t care about being gentle, you didn’t want gentle, you wanted yours back.

Simon groaned low in his throat when you grabbed his cock and guided him to your dripping entrance, locking your ankles behind his back, yanking him forward until he bottomed out inside you with one deep thrust that had both of you gasping.

He tried to set the pace, but you weren't having it — you tightened your legs around him, dug your nails into his shoulders through his hoodie, made him fuck you the way you wanted, hard and deep and fast, pulling him in again and again while you leaned in close to his ear and let the words spill out, low and filthy and cruel.

"Mine," you snarled, grinding down against him when he tried to catch his breath, "You’re fucking mine, Simon, no one else touches you, no one else even fucking looks at you, you hear me?"

He choked out a broken little whimper, hands clenching uselessly at your hips like he couldn't decide if he wanted to fight you or just give in and let you ruin him.

"Say it," you demanded, yanking his hair back so he had to look at you, had to see the crazy in your eyes, had to feel how fucking serious you were.

"Yours," he gasped, voice raw and wrecked, "Only you, only ever you, fuck, I’m yours—"

You squeezed your legs tighter around him, kissed him filthy and hard as he spilled inside you, hips jerking desperately, his cock twitching against your walls as he came, thick and hot, filling you up so good it made your own orgasm snap right behind it, squeezing down around him, milking every last drop while he whined into your mouth like you were breaking him in half.

When you finally pulled back, chest heaving, your thighs sticky and trembling, Simon just leaned his forehead against yours, his whole body shuddering, smiling that stupid little smile he only ever gave you, the one that made you want to wreck him all over again just to see it.

"You’re fucking crazy," he rasped, dazed and breathless.

You grinned at him, cocky and wild and smug as hell. "Yeah, babe, we all know that," you said sweetly, tightening your legs around him again just to hear him curse under his breath.

And you were already thinking about round two.

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

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate

[sereia4skz]

hi hi!! this is in favour of my birth week, cause it’s my bday this money ٩(๑>ᴗ<๑)۶ yay!!!!!!! i’m here to keep you updated about the events with your followers special (which is so so cool btw, congrats) so ahem, lemme get into character for the request

Dear Reia,

It’s been quite fun hanging out with Felix and his pack, despite the hot heat of the summer. Though as my birthday approaches, I kinda miss spending the day together with you mucking about and eating out for dinner. I haven’t really made a big deal about my birthday up until now but since it’s me on my own I’ve started to miss how sweet the little outings were. But accidentally Jeongin found out about my birthday this week, the fox hybrid that is in Felix’s pack. He insists on dragging me to the shops, saying that a new wardrobe is a must for a birthday— or at least buying something is. He even spent his own money on it, that stressed me out so much. I got everything from these nice skirt that are a bit short to pretty dress. I also bought something for you with my own money too. Jeongin is so kind and adorable, his hair gets all fluffy in the mornings when I see him. It’s nice, that he felt comfortable taking me out.

That white fox even took me out for dinner at this nice ramen place, inviting Felix along with us. That sneaky kitten got me a necklace, this necklace with a watch pendent—a picture of a creek painted on where you read the time. But it was a bit awkward, the two tugging me to sit next to one of them in the booth or trying to talk over each other. Felix even bite me! Like full on, trying to break my skin biting! It was interesting. I hope they can sort it out.

From, 🐣 anon.

have fun and take it in whatever direction you like using the request stuff!!! it can be written with fake text messages as well if you want., thank you and pretty please (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡

1k Followers Event | birthday shopping

pairing: fox!Jeongin x reader x kitten!Felix

genre: fluff, suggestive

warnings: mild MxM, they get interrupted, themes of marking (licking and biting), dry humping, jealousy (jeongin)

event masterlist: #1kShootingStars

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My dear little 🐣,

I’m glad your trip is going well.  Happy Birthday <3!! 

You let Jeongin take you shopping before I could??? Rude. Treason. I’m drafting your betrayal charges as we speak. You buying me something… Now you’re not supposed to give presents when it’s your birthday, baby bird. Happy the boys took you out anyways tho, a birthday should be celebrated.  

I don’t remember Felix to be a biter, how strange, it must be something he picked up from his pack. I hope your night went well regardless. 

I can’t wait to hear more about your adventures.

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The day had been fun. A little long with the hot summer sun hitting your skin, but fun regardless. You weren’t used to making a big deal about your birthday usually but with Felix around, he had let it slip that your day was coming up. 

Jeongin had insisted on taking you out shopping early in the week, saying that you always needed a new outfit for your birthday. That's how you ended up at dinner with him and Felix, at a nice little ramen place a short drive from the cabin. With a new little skirt paid for by the little fox and adorned with the necklace Felix had given you as an early gift.

Dinner was an awkward affair with Jeongin and Felix fighting for your attention. Although it was cute that they bickered like this in the pack, it had been a long time since you've seen Felix this comfortable with anyone. 

You were lost in your thoughts when you felt a breath on your shoulder, before you even had time to turn around and look at the person responsible you felt his tongue run against your skin. His teeth barely have time to sink into your shoulder before he's yanked away. You turn around surprised to see Jeongin holding Felix by the neck.

“Hyung!” the younger boy scolded the sneaky kitten. Felix, looked at you like the cat who got the cream, a look that had been showing up on his face more and more these days, and gave a soft hiss, but didn’t fight back. His tail flicked with annoyance, but his eyes stayed trained on you like he’d already won whatever game was being played.

You blinked at both of them, shoulder still tingling where Felix’s teeth had grazed your skin. The heat of the day had nothing on the warmth creeping up your neck now.

Jeongin released him with a grumble, brushing down the collar of your shirt like he was checking for damage. “You can’t just bite people when they’re zoning out, hyung.”

Felix smirked. “Didn’t see her complaining.”

You glanced between them, caught between laughter and the urge to throw something. Probably a dumpling. “Okay, okay, enough,” you said, raising both hands like a peacekeeper. “No biting. And no fighting in front of the nice old lady who runs this restaurant.”

At that, both boys went quiet, sheepish glances darting toward the counter where the owner was very obviously pretending not to listen in while aggressively wiping down a spotless surface.

After that, you and the boys are quick to vacate the restaurant under the watchful gaze of the old lady. Before you know it, you’re back at the cabin.

It’s dark and quiet, very uncharacteristic, as you’ve come to learn. You look around as you toe off your shoes, peering down the dark hallway before flicking on the lights.

“They’re probably playing in the woods… The moon is out tonight,” Felix mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. His words hang in the air, the quiet of the cabin settling like a blanket over the three of you.

You pad toward your room, fingers toying with the hem of your skirt, the fabric still warm from the summer air. “I guess we’re alone tonight, huh?”

Jeongin hums behind you. “Lucky us.”

You roll your eyes at his tone, but your grin betrays you. When you push open the bedroom door, Felix is already toeing off his socks and dropping onto your bed like he owns it.

“You’re not even gonna ask?” you say, raising a brow.

Felix stretches across your mattress like a satisfied cat. “Our cabin.”

Jeongin follows, a little more hesitant, lingering at the door. “I can stay too, right?”

You tilt your head at him, smirking. “I suppose with that logic, yes?”

You go to change, and that’s all it takes, by the time you come back, the fox has shrugged off his hoodie and tossed it onto your desk chair before settling on the other side of your bed. You giggle as they settle in.

“I swear,” you mutter as you flop between them, “if you two start wrestling again, I’m kicking both of you out.”

Felix nuzzles into you, propping his chin on your shoulder. “Just cuddling.”

Jeongin pouts, wrapping an arm around your waist like a claim.

You snort, pressing your face into the pillow. “You’re both needy.”

“Only for you,” they say, at the same time.

The silence that follows is… charged. You feel it before you see it, Felix shifting behind you, Jeongin’s breath hitching just slightly. You peek through your lashes just in time to catch it.

Felix kisses him.

Quick. Soft. Barely more than a press of lips.

But it’s enough to still the room.

Jeongin blinks, stunned. “What was that?”

Felix only shrugs. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

You exhale, dragging your hand over your face. “At least you two are figuring it out.”

They both look at you then, like remembering you’re there at all, and just like that, the attention snaps back to you like a rubber band. 

Jeongin shifts first, his hand sliding beneath the hem of your shorts where his knuckles brush against the bare skin of your thigh. Felix leans in close again, nose skimming along your neck before you feel his tongue, hot, slow, teasing, dragging across the same spot he’d tried to bite earlier.

“You taste sweet,” Felix whispers against your skin.

“She’s mine tonight,” Jeongin mutters, pulling your leg to cross his and pressing kisses trailing after Felix’s saliva.

“You have to share, she was mine first,” Felix purrs, fingers ghosting over your waist, his mouth leaving damp trails that cool too fast against your overheated skin.

You don’t say anything.

You can feel both of them getting bolder as the moments drag on. Felix’s teeth graze your skin again, this time along your jawline, his hands slipping under your shirt as his thumbs brush against your bare ribs. Although the contact isn’t unusual in your friendship, it’s been a long time, it’s become forgotten, and the addition of the fennec boy’s affections has your skin buzzing.

Jeongin is gentle. His lips trail kisses along your collarbone and then to the side of your neck, slow and deliberate, as if trying to savor every moment.

You let out a quiet sigh, eyes fluttering shut as Felix’s lips press a kiss at the corner of your mouth. His fingers grip your waist, pulling you closer to his chest until you can feel the heat of him against your back. It’s hard not to melt at the sensation of Jeongin’s soft kisses mixed with Felix’s fiery touches.

“God, you’re perfect,” Felix whispers, his breath a hot puff against your skin. His hand slides lower, teasing the waistband of your sleep shorts, before moving up to cradle the side of your face, pulling you toward him with a surprisingly tender kiss.

You barely have time to react when Jeongin’s hand slides over your thigh, his fingertips brushing dangerously close to the hem of your shorts, brushing Felix’s. His lips, still soft but insistent, move to your shoulder, leaving a trail of warm kisses.

But then, just as you feel Felix’s fingers begin to move lower, footsteps echo from the cabin’s entrance. The front door opens, followed by the sound of voices, the boys are home.

“Be quiet, boys… They might be sleeping,” Chan’s voice rings out despite his hushed tone, followed by the soft footsteps as the others disperse to their rooms.

Jeongin immediately freezes, his face turning a shade of red as he pulls his hands away. He clears his throat, looking embarrassed but still wearing that adorable, shy smile that makes it hard to stay mad at him. Felix smooths out the hem of your shorts as if to ‘fix’ the accidental mess he’s caused.

“We should rest,” Felix whispers in your ear, just loud enough for the fluffy-haired boy to hear.

“Can we stay?” the other boy asks, hopeful.

The tension that had been thick in the room evaporates almost immediately, replaced with the normal, relaxed atmosphere you’ve grown used to with them.

“Okay… just for tonight,” you whisper back, settling comfortably between the two.

It doesn’t take long for the weight of the day to catch up to you. You close your eyes, Felix’s warmth at your back, Jeongin’s soft breaths beside you, and the distant noise of the others in the house fading into the background.

Just for tonight, you think as you drift off.

━━━━━━━━━━━━⋆｡°✩

taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway @stellasays45 @angel-writes-skz-here

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Glam & Grease

Fandom: Marvel (Car Mechanic AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Requested by @lemonylover : what about like mechanic bucky where reader comes in for a date but he forgot so instead he shows her how to fix up cars and her nice dress gets all dirty but she loves it, something like that

Warning: lots of sexual innuendos

Grease & Rust | Lapse of Judgement | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Bucky said he'd be picking you up at 7pm. It was 7:30 now and he wasn't answering his phone. You were worried.

Despite you all dressed up in a cute dress and heels, you grabbed a hoodie and slipped it on. You went out and hopped into your new car, because yes, you finally got one after Angel died for the final time.

You drive over to Barnes Auto Shop and are surprised to see Bucky still there, hunched over a car.

"Bucky?"

He looks over his shoulder in confusion and his eyes widen in realization, "Shit!" He turns to you as you walk up to him, "I'm so sorry, baby. I lost got track of time and-fuck."

You shake your head, "Baby, it's okay. I was just worried something bad happened. I was calling your phone and was getting the automated message from the shop."

Bucky sighs, "Sorry I worried you," he looks you and up and down. He pouts a little, "You look beautiful."

"Thanks," you say after looking down at your dress, "I cancelled the reservation since I wasn't sure if you were in trouble or not."

"I understand. The night's still young. I can take a quick shower and-"

You place your finger on his lips, "Or, how about we order some pizza and you show me what you're working on?"

Bucky cocks a brow at you, "You sure? You got all nice and pretty and you're probably gonna get covered in grease-"

"Not the first time I've been covered in grease because of you," you say with a smirk and a twinkle in your eyes.

He chuckles, "True, but very well. Don't get mad at me if the stains won't come out."

You shrug, "You'll buy me a new dress anyway," you kiss his cheek and then pull out your phone to order a pizza.

____________________________________

With a half eaten pizza resting on his desk long forgotten, Bucky has you hunched over the car.

His hands grip your waist as he stands behind you.

"Tighten up, atta girl. That's it. You're doing so well," he kisses your neck as you twist the wrench tight.

You smile at him over your shoulder, "Am I skilled enough for you to hire me?"

He chuckles, "Pretty sure people will question my professionalism if I'm dating one of my employees, sweetheart."

"I mean, you don't have to pay me in money. You can pay me in...other things."

Bucky throws his head back and laughs, "Baby, it sounds like you're quoting a porn film."

You shrug, "Life imitates art," you step back and assess your dress. There are, indeed, grease stains all over the skirt, especially where Bucky had his hands on your hips.

Bucky hums, thumbing some of the fabric, "It really is a pretty dress."

"Would look prettier on your floor," you look at him, batting your eyes.

Your boyfriend snorts and places his hands on his hips, "Sweetheart-"

"Come oooonn, you know how watching you work riles me up," you whine, running your hands up Bucky's chest.

"We'll get your dress even more dirty."

"You act as if it'd be the first time."

Bucky sighs and shakes his head, "Lemme close up shop and we can head home. We'll both clean up and spend the rest of the night in."

"Doing...."

"Whatever you want."

"Then I wanna do you."

Bucky laughs even more, "Insatiable woman," he pats your butt, "Come on. Lemme clean all this up." You step aside and let him do his thing.

You look down at your dress, covered in grease, and, despite how much you liked it, you didn't care that it was ruined. All you cared about was that Bucky was okay and that you still got to spend time with him.

[ijustwannabecool]

Somewhere Only We Know - Part 2

Lando Norris x Reader

Based upon this request:

Hi!!! First of all, I love love loooove your stories. I don't know if you're open to writing for Lando. Just wanted to maybe suggest this: we all know he's spiraling at the moment, maybe someone who he meets and steadies him? I know he has that typical athlete fboy image. But maybe someone who he changes for and really helps him mentally as well. Seeing that change from an outside perspective from people in F1 or fans would be pretty cool. Just a thought that popped up! Thanks! Will be anxiously waiting for your next uploads!

Summary... He wasn’t looking for anything when he found you — just a diner, a coffee, a moment to breathe — but somehow you became everything. This is the story of how he fell, how you stayed, and how together you built something louder than the noise trying to tear you apart.

A/N: I hope this story does justice to your request! I wrote it like a book, so it has chapters within the story. Also, the story was so long that I had to split it into two parts because Tumblr would not allow me to post it. I had such a blast writing it, and I hope you all have just as much fun reading it. As always, thank you so much for being here, for supporting these little worlds we create, and for sharing your love with the characters too.

Happy reading, and have a beautiful day today!! 🖤✨

If you enjoyed the story and feel like supporting my writing, you can donate a strawberry matcha through my Ko-fi! 🍓🍵 (No pressure at all — your kindness is already everything.)

Like, comment, reblog, enjoy (:

DO NOT READ THIS PART BEFORE READING PART ONE!!

Chapter 14: Breakwater

The morning crept in slow and gold.

The lake shimmered in the early light, mist curling over the surface like a living thing.

Inside the cabin, it was warm — blankets kicked off, window cracked open, the air smelling like rain-soaked wood and coffee brewing somewhere down the road.

—

Lando woke up first.

Y/N was curled into his side on the small couch they’d crashed onto sometime after their second — or was it third? — kiss.

Her hand was pressed against his chest, fingers splayed over his heart like she was claiming it without even trying.

He didn’t move. Didn’t dare.

Just breathed her in. The softness of her hair against his jaw. The steady rhythm of her breathing.

The way the world outside could have burned to the ground and he wouldn’t have noticed because she was here.

His.

Finally.

—

She stirred after a while, blinking sleepily, her nose scrunching in a way that made him smile so wide it hurt.

"Mornin'," she mumbled, her voice rough with sleep.

"Hey," he whispered back, brushing his thumb gently over her knuckles.

For a moment, they just lay there — no rush, no noise, no weight.

Just them.

Y/N’s voice was still raspy when she teased, "Are we gonna pretend yesterday didn’t happen?"

Lando shook his head immediately. "Not a chance."

She smiled wider, her cheeks flushing pink, and burrowed closer into his side like she belonged there.

God, she did belong there.

—

They spent the morning wrapped around each other, half-tangled in blankets, trading lazy kisses and half-hearted arguments about who was responsible for getting breakfast.

"You drive," Y/N said, poking his ribs with a sly smile. "You’re the adult here."

"I’m not even qualified to own a plant," Lando protested, laughing as he caught her hand and laced their fingers together.

Eventually, they bundled up and wandered down to a tiny diner by the lake, the kind of place where the menus were handwritten and the waitress called everyone "sweetheart."

They sat across from each other, stealing bites of pancakes and grinning like idiots.

For a few precious hours — there was no McLaren. No cameras. No headlines.

Just this.

Just them.

Until the real world found them anyway.

—

It happened as they were walking back to the cabin, hand-in-hand, feet crunching over gravel.

Lando's phone buzzed. Then buzzed again. And again.

He ignored it at first — until it buzzed so violently it practically jumped out of his pocket.

He sighed, pulling it out — and froze.

Y/N noticed immediately.

"What’s wrong?" she asked, stepping closer, peering up at him.

Lando's jaw tightened as he tilted the screen so she could see.

Tweets. Instagram tags. News pings.

Photos.

Blurry at first — then clearer.

Them.

Leaving the diner last night. Laughing by the lake. Holding hands this morning.

The captions were already spiraling:

"New romance for Norris?" "Who is the mystery girl stealing Lando’s heart?" "Spotted: F1 star cozying up at hidden lakeside retreat."

Lando stuffed his phone back into his pocket like it burned him.

"You don’t have to do this," he said roughly, voice cracking a little. "You don’t have to stay."

Y/N just looked at him steady.

Sure.

She stepped even closer, slipping her fingers into his.

"Lando," she said softly, voice clear and unwavering, "I’m not here because it’s easy."

Her hand squeezed his once — firm, grounding.

"I’m here because it’s you."

And just like that — he knew.

No matter how high the waves got, no matter how loud the world screamed, no matter how messy it became —

They would fight for this.

Together.

———

Chapter 15: All the Noise, None of the Doubt

If you asked him, Lando would have said nothing changed.

Not really.

He still showed up for sim days and engineering meetings. Still suited up. Still pushed the limits. Still smiled for the cameras.

But something was different.

Not the way he drove — the way he lived.

The way he smiled wider when his phone buzzed. The way he laughed easier when he caught a glimpse of a photo Y/N sent him — some ridiculous thing, like a squirrel stealing a sandwich or her terrible attempt at latte art.

The way he counted the hours until he could see her again.

They carved out a world in the quiet spaces between all the noise.

Secret coffee dates. Late-night FaceTimes. Quick texts during media days

Soft mornings at the cabin when they could sneak away. Long car rides filled with bad music and even worse singing.

Tiny kisses stolen in parking lots. Fingers brushing under tables.

Nothing flashy. Nothing loud.

Just them.

Of course, the rest of the world wasn't blind.

At the factory, Max smirked as he caught Lando smiling down at his phone again.

"You’re disgusting," Max said, tossing a balled-up napkin at him.

Lando batted it away, not even pretending to hide the grin on his face.

"You’re just jealous," he shot back.

Max laughed. "Maybe. But I’m not the one getting meme’d into oblivion every time someone spots me looking like a lovesick idiot."

Lando flipped him off good-naturedly.

But later, alone in the simulator bay, phone screen glowing with a new picture of Y/N doodling all over his face in an old karting photo he sent her, he thought maybe he didn’t mind.

The media started circling too.

Soft at first. Little jabs in interviews.

"So, Lando, any truth to the rumors about a new girl?" "Someone special keeping you motivated this season?"

He ducked and weaved, smiling without answering, learning how to protect what mattered without lying.

They didn’t need to know. Not yet. Not when it was still this precious, still blooming in his hands.

But it was getting harder to keep their world untouched.

Photos slipped through sometimes — blurry ones of them at a gas station, a coffee shop, a grocery store.

Fans guessed. Fans speculated.

Some supported. Some didn't.

The noise was getting louder.

—

One night, they sat on the hood of his SUV under a wide, bruised sunset sky — the cabin just a small speck in the distance — splitting a bag of crisps between them.

Y/N leaned back on her hands, kicking her heels against the bumper.

"You know," she said lightly, "if you ever want to run... I’d go with you."

He turned to look at her, something sharp and warm catching in his throat.

"You serious?"

She nodded, smiling sideways at him.

"I’m not scared of the noise, Lando," she said. "But if it ever gets too loud for you... we’ll just find somewhere quieter."

He stared at her — this girl who had walked into his life on a rainy night with bad coffee and a soft voice — and realized that no matter how loud the world got, with her, there would always be a way back to silence.

To home.

To them.

—

He reached out, tangling their fingers together, resting their joined hands on the hood between them.

"I’m not running," he said quietly. "Not from this. Not from you."

She squeezed his hand, her smile small and sure.

"Good," she said. "Because you’re terrible at directions."

He laughed — a real, full laugh — and tugged her closer until she was tucked into his side.

And for the first time in a long time — maybe ever — Lando knew he wasn’t just surviving.

He was living.

With her.

———

Chapter 17: Our Little World

It wasn’t about hiding. Not really.

It was about protecting.

About keeping something beautiful just for themselves, tucked away where no cameras, no headlines, no strangers could touch it.

Their little world.

Their rules.

When they were apart — race weeks, sponsor events, the constant hum of everything — they stayed connected in the ways that mattered.

It became a routine without them even realizing it.

Late-night texts.

Y/N: Did you eat real food today or just Red Bull and regrets?

Lando: Pop-Tarts totally count as real food.

Y/N: Get a vegetable or I’m calling Max.

Lando: Terrifying. Ordering salad now.

Early morning FaceTimes.

"Hi," she’d say, hair a mess, eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Hi," he’d whisper back, already smiling just hearing her voice.

Sometimes they didn't even talk. Just kept the call open while she painted, while he packed, while they existed on opposite sides of the world but somehow closer than ever.

When they could steal days together — God, those days felt like breathing again.

—

Tiny traditions started to form:

Y/N leaving doodles tucked into his suitcase before he traveled. ("I better see this stuck to your laptop," she teased once, drawing a lopsided cartoon of him driving a spaceship.)

Lando slipping notes into the sketchbooks she left lying around. ("Your art’s better than any trophy," he scribbled once, messy and embarrassed but meaning every word.)

Sharing playlists. ("This song is you," he texted her once, sending a track that was all messy beats and golden chords.)

Movie nights where they talked over half the film, cuddled under a mountain of mismatched blankets, and fought about who stole the popcorn.

("You," Lando accused, mouth full. "Me?" Y/N gasped. "You’re inhaling it like you’ve never seen food before!")

They built a language only they spoke — inside jokes, stolen glances, silent conversations across crowded rooms.

—

But the world kept buzzing louder outside.

Photos kept surfacing. Speculation grew.

Y/N didn’t flinch. She teased him about it sometimes, flicking through tabloids at the grocery store.

"‘Lando Norris and Mystery Girl spotted looking cozy at Starbucks,’" she read aloud dramatically one day, showing him a grainy photo of them with frappuccinos.

He snorted. "That’s peak romance. Frappuccinos."

"You sure know how to spoil a girl," she said, nudging him.

He grinned, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles right there between the cereal and the canned soup aisle.

"I’ll buy you two next time," he whispered.

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away.

The world could shout all it wanted.

She knew where home was.

—

One night — late, after a brutal race weekend that left Lando physically exhausted and mentally shredded — they lay tangled together on the tiny couch in his Monaco apartment.

Y/N traced lazy circles over the back of his hand, her voice soft against the darkness.

"You know you don’t have to pretend with me, right?" she said.

He turned his head, watching her with tired, adoring eyes.

"I know," he said quietly. "You’re the only place I don’t have to."

She smiled — small, warm, breaking his heart a little more in the best way.

"You’re stuck with me, Norris," she teased, nose brushing his.

He kissed her gently — sweet and tired and so full of everything he couldn’t find the words for.

"Good," he whispered against her lips. "Because I’m not going anywhere."

And for now, that was enough.

Their little world held strong — soft, stubborn, untouchable.

For now.

———

Chapter 18: Say It Like You Mean It

It started with a headline.

Bigger this time. Louder.

Not whispers anymore — shouts.

"Is Lando Norris Losing Focus? Friends Fear New Romance May Be a Distraction."

And worse — comments. Speculation. Ugly words flung like stones.

They picked her apart — her looks, her job, her life — like she was nothing but an accessory to his downfall.

Lando saw it before Y/N did. His phone buzzing nonstop. His manager sending cautious texts. Max even texting him once:

Max:

You good, mate? Ignore the shit. You know whats’s real.

He barely read the rest. He couldn’t think straight.

He was supposed to protect her.

And now — they were using her name like a weapon.

—

He found her at his place, sitting cross-legged on the floor, sorting through a stack of his race gear he’d dumped there last week.

She looked up the second he slammed the door behind him, her smile fading when she saw his face.

"Lando?" she said, standing quickly. "What happened?"

He didn’t answer right away. Just crossed the room in three strides, pulling her into his arms like he needed to be sure she was still real.

"Lando," she said again, softer now, hands sliding up his back. "Talk to me."

He pressed his forehead against hers, breathing hard.

"They're saying shit," he muttered. "About you. About us."

She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes.

"I know," she said gently.

He blinked. "You know?"

She smiled — sad and strong all at once. "I’m not blind, Lan. I knew what I was signing up for."

His chest tightened painfully.

"I hate that it touches you," he said, voice rough. "I hate that I brought you into this."

"You didn’t bring me anywhere," she said. "I walked. I chose this."

"But you don’t deserve it," he whispered.

She squeezed his hand. "Neither do you."

—

An hour later, he sat in his car outside the McLaren building, staring at his phone, jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

His manager had sent another text.

PR Team: No need to comment. Stay quiet. Let it pass.

But Lando couldn’t.

Not this time.

He opened Twitter. Stared at the blinking cursor.

And typed.

@LandoNorris: You can say whatever you want about me. But leave her out of it. She’s the best thing that’s happened to me. End of story.

He hit post before he could second guess himself.

Then tossed the phone onto the passenger seat like it was on fire.

He didn't care about the fallout.

He cared about her.

—

When he got home, she was curled up on the couch, a blanket around her shoulders, flipping absently through a book she clearly wasn't reading.

He dropped onto the couch beside her, heart hammering.

She set the book down.

"You posted it," she said softly.

He nodded once, his throat too tight to speak.

She smiled — small, shaky — and climbed into his lap without hesitation, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I’m not going anywhere," she whispered against his ear.

He closed his eyes, burying his face in her hair.

"You better not," he whispered back.

Silence stretched between them — not uncomfortable. Just heavy. Full.

"I love you," Lando said, the words tumbling out — messy, raw, desperate. "I love you so much it scares the hell out of me."

She pulled back, cupping his face in her hands.

"Good," she said, smiling through the tears gathering in her eyes. "Because I love you too, you idiot."

He laughed — choked and wrecked — and kissed her like he was drowning.

And maybe he was.

But if he was going under — he was taking her with him.

Together.

Always.

———

Chapter 19: The Afterglow and the Storm

The first few days after saying "I love you" felt like living inside a bubble.

Warm. Safe. Weightless.

They clung to each other like kids hiding under a blanket fort, pretending the real world couldn’t reach them.

—

Late one night, lying tangled together in his bed, Y/N pressed her nose into his neck and mumbled sleepily,

"Are we gonna talk about it?"

Lando smiled into her hair. "Talk about what?"

"You know," she said, poking his ribs, "the whole 'I love you' bomb you dropped on me."

He laughed, grabbing her hand and bringing it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

"I regret nothing," he said.

She lifted her head just enough to glare playfully at him.

"You didn’t even give me time to process."

"You kissed me back!" he protested.

"I panicked!" she teased, laughing.

He rolled them over, pinning her gently to the bed with a grin.

"Say it again," he murmured, brushing her hair back from her forehead.

She pretended to think about it, tapping her chin dramatically.

"Hmm... I love—"

He leaned closer.

"You," she finished, nose bumping his.

He kissed her — soft and slow and smiling the whole time.

"Best panic attack ever," he whispered against her mouth.

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Idiot."

"Yours," he said.

"Mine," she agreed.

Always.

—

But outside the walls they built, the world kept spinning.

And not all of it was kind.

—

Another headline dropped the following week.

This time nastier. Sharper.

"Lando’s Focus in Question Again: Sources Say Romance Is a ‘Major Distraction’ for McLaren’s Golden Boy."

And worse — an anonymous "source" claiming Lando was “changing” — not as serious, not as hungry.

It was bullshit.

Lando knew it. The people who mattered knew it.

But still — it stung.

—

He found her sitting on the balcony that night, sketchbook in her lap, a cup of tea cooling by her side.

She looked up when he slid the door open.

"Hey," she said softly. "I saw."

He sank down onto the chair beside her, rubbing his hands over his face.

"You don’t have to keep doing this," he muttered.

"Doing what?"

"Dealing with the fallout," he said, voice tight. "It’s not fair to you."

She shut the sketchbook and set it aside.

"Lando," she said gently, "I don’t love you because it’s easy."

He looked up, heart aching.

"I love you because you’re the best thing that ever happened to me," she continued. "Even when it’s messy. Especially then."

He blinked hard, swallowing the lump rising in his throat.

"You’re sure?" he asked, voice cracking just a little.

She smiled — small, fierce, beautiful.

"Positive," she said. "Now shut up and come here."

He crossed the distance between them without hesitation, letting her pull him into her arms.

They sat there — curled up together under the dark sky, the world screaming beyond their little balcony, but the noise unable to touch them.

Not when they had each other.

Not when they had something this real.

—

Later, scrolling through his phone before bed, Lando grinned when he saw her latest text pop up.

Y/N: Tomorrow = karting rematch. No excuses, Norris. Prepare to lose.

Lando: You’re dreaming.

Y/N: I'm building a trophy shelf.

Lando: You're delusional. I love you.

Y/N: Love you more.

He turned off the screen, smiling into the darkness, and fell asleep with her heartbeat steady against his ribs.

And for once — the noise didn’t win.

They did.

———

Chapter 20: A Quiet Place, A Loud World

Their little world kept growing.

Not hidden. Not ashamed.

Just... theirs.

—

Late one night, curled up together on the battered old couch that had somehow become more home than anywhere else, Y/N pressed her cheek to Lando’s chest and whispered,

"Tell me a secret."

He smiled into her hair.

"Like what?"

"Like... something no one else knows."

He thought about it for a minute. Then said, "I used to dream about quitting."

She lifted her head, surprised.

"Quitting what?"

"All of it," he said softly. "The racing. The noise. The expectations. When it got bad, I used to think about just... disappearing."

Her eyes softened, her hand sliding up to cup his cheek.

"But you didn’t," she said.

"No," he said. "Because... because maybe I was waiting for something better to find me."

He looked at her — eyes wide, vulnerable, raw.

"And then you showed up," he whispered.

Her throat tightened painfully.

"I love you," she breathed, blinking back tears.

He smiled — small and broken and whole all at once.

"I love you more," he said.

—

They started talking about futures after that.

Not big sweeping plans. Just... dreams.

"What if we lived somewhere quiet?" Y/N said one night, curled into his side, tracing invisible lines over his chest. "A little house. A dog. Maybe a cat if you stop pretending to be allergic."

"I’m definitely allergic," he mumbled, half-asleep.

"Liar."

"Fine," he grinned. "But only if I get to name it."

"Deal," she said, laughing. "But I get veto power."

"Deal," he agreed, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

They talked about road trips across Europe. Late-night drives with no destination. Sunday mornings spent fighting over who had to make pancakes.

It wasn’t if anymore.

It was when.

But the world wasn’t content to stay quiet forever.

The invitation arrived three days later.

McLaren Gala. Mandatory Appearance. Formal Attire Required.

An event. A spotlight. A battlefield.

And this time — they couldn’t hide.

—

They talked about it that night, sitting cross-legged on the bed, laptops open, tabs pulled up of tux rentals and dresses she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel comfortable wearing.

"You don't have to come," Lando said quietly, fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. "I’ll cover for you. Say you're sick. Say you’re busy. I don’t care."

Y/N closed her laptop and looked at him.

"Lando," she said firmly. "I'm not hiding. Not if you're not."

He searched her face, something wild and terrified and hopeful tangled in his eyes.

"You’re sure?" he whispered.

She reached across the bed, threading their fingers together.

"I’m sure," she said.

A beat of silence.

Then she smiled — wide, mischievous, a little shaky.

"But if we’re doing this," she said, "we’re doing it properly."

He laughed, the sound cracking open something deep inside him.

"Meaning...?"

"Meaning we’re gonna look so good they’ll have no choice but to talk about how lucky you are," she said, sticking out her tongue.

He lunged forward, tackling her onto the bed, both of them laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe.

The night of the gala, he saw her standing at the top of the hotel stairs — black dress hugging her curves, hair swept up, eyes catching the light like stars.

She was breathtaking.

Terrifyingly, heartbreakingly beautiful.

He met her at the bottom of the stairs, taking her hand in his without hesitation.

"You ready?" he whispered.

Y/N squeezed his hand once, sure and steady.

"With you?" she said. "Always."

—

The cameras exploded the second they stepped onto the carpet.

Flashes. Shouts. Questions.

But he didn’t let go of her hand.

Not once.

Not when the world stared. Not when people whispered.

He kept her close — proud, steady, unapologetic.

And when they finally slipped inside, breathless and laughing, he pulled her into a shadowed corner and cupped her face in both hands.

"You’re the bravest person I know," he whispered.

"You make it easy," she whispered back.

He kissed her, soft and sure, and if anyone caught it on camera, he didn’t care.

Let them see.

Let them know.

This was real. This was forever.

And nothing was going to tear it apart.

———

Chapter 21: The Space Between Heartbeats

They didn’t plan it.

They just... needed it.

Needed to get away. Needed a place where they weren’t Lando Norris and the girl everyone was watching. Where they could just be Lando and Y/N.

So they ran.

—

They packed the bare minimum — jeans, hoodies, sunglasses, battered sneakers — and drove hours out of the city until the world thinned out around them.

Fields. Mountains. Empty roads.

The cabin was tiny. Hidden in a tangle of trees, overlooking a glassy stretch of river.

Perfect.

Untouchable.

The kind of place where no one knew their names.

—

The first night, they sat on the porch, legs tangled together under a shared blanket, the sky spilling stars across the darkness.

Y/N leaned against him, her voice sleepy but sure.

"I missed this," she murmured.

He kissed the top of her head. "Me too."

"You know," she said after a long pause, "sometimes it feels like the rest of the world... doesn’t matter here."

He smiled into her hair. "That’s because it doesn’t."

—

Inside, the cabin smelled like woodsmoke and old books.

They moved around each other easily — brushing teeth side by side at the creaky sink, arguing half-heartedly over which side of the bed was "better" (it was the left, obviously, and Y/N won, obviously).

No makeup. No cameras. No rules.

Just them.

—

It happened quietly.

Softly.

Not rushed. Not planned.

—

Lando brushed her hair back from her face as they lay sprawled across the bed, the old mattress squeaking under their weight.

She smiled up at him, lazy and beautiful, and whispered, "What are you thinking?"

He ran his thumb gently along her jawline.

"That I’m really fucking lucky," he said.

Her smile faltered — not because she doubted it, but because sometimes love still felt too big to hold.

"You know you don’t have to say that, right?" she said quietly.

He frowned, shifting closer.

"I’m not saying it because I have to," he said. "I’m saying it because it's true."

She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing him in.

When she opened them again, they were shining.

"I love you," she whispered, voice cracking.

"I love you too," he said instantly, like breathing.

He kissed her — slow, careful — and she kissed him back like she was anchoring herself to the only thing that had ever felt steady.

—

Clothes fell away in clumsy, breathless pieces.

Laughter slipped between kisses.

Fingers shook a little — not from nerves, but from how much it meant.

Every touch said it louder than words ever could:

I'm here. I'm yours. I'm not going anywhere.

When he finally sank into her, it wasn’t frantic or desperate.

It was slow. Reverent. Real.

Their foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling.

No noise but the soft rustle of sheets and the quiet, broken whispers they shared between kisses.

—

"You're everything," he breathed against her skin.

She pressed her mouth to his shoulder, holding on tighter.

"So are you," she whispered back.

—

Later, tangled in the sheets, hearts still pounding, Y/N pressed her fingers over the steady thud of his pulse.

"The world can get louder," she said softly, tracing a circle over his chest. "I don’t care."

Lando caught her hand in his, kissed her knuckles.

"Let it," he said. "We already won."

Outside, the river whispered over stones. The trees creaked and sighed.

Inside — only the space between heartbeats.

Only them.

———

Chapter 22: Borrowed Time

The next morning felt like waking up inside a dream.

Sunlight spilled across the bed in soft puddles, the air cool and crisp through the cracked window.

Y/N stirred first, her arm thrown haphazardly across Lando’s stomach, her face smushed into his chest.

He was already awake, just... watching her. Committing every little detail to memory. The way her nose scrunched when the breeze hit her toes. The way her lips parted slightly, breath slow and even.

He never wanted to forget this.

Eventually, she cracked one eye open.

"You’re staring," she mumbled, voice raspy from sleep.

"Can you blame me?" he said, grinning.

She groaned and buried her face further into his chest.

"Gross," she said. "You're so gross."

He laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"You love it."

"I tolerate it," she said, but he could hear the smile in her voice.

They stayed like that — tangled up, half-asleep — until their stomachs rumbled in unison.

Y/N lifted her head, mock serious.

"Pancakes?" she asked.

He nodded solemnly. "It’s the only way."

—

They destroyed the tiny cabin kitchen together.

Flour everywhere. Eggshells in the sink. Syrup dripping down the counter.

Lando flipped a pancake so dramatically it hit the ceiling.

"LAN," she shrieked, laughing so hard she doubled over.

"Ten out of ten landing!" he yelled, throwing his arms up like an Olympic gymnast.

"You’re banned," she said, snatching the spatula from him.

He just grinned and stole a kiss while she was distracted, syrupy fingers slipping against her waist.

They ate standing up, giggling, licking syrup off their hands, stealing bites from each other’s plates.

It was stupid. It was messy.

It was perfect.

But reality doesn’t wait forever.

—

Later that afternoon, as they lounged lazily on the porch, Lando’s phone buzzed against the wood.

He ignored it at first.

Then a second buzz. A third.

Y/N reached over, grabbing it before he could.

"Who's spamming you?" she teased, pretending to squint at the screen.

Her smile faded.

"Lando," she said quietly, holding the phone out to him.

He took it, frowning.

A string of notifications.

Emails. Texts.

His PR team. Zak. Even a few drivers.

New headlines splashed across the top:

"Norris Romance Heating Up: Is the Pressure Getting to McLaren’s Star?" "Sources Suggest New Relationship May Threaten 2026 Contract Negotiations."

Beneath it, pictures — Him and Y/N at the gala. Holding hands. Laughing.

Frozen in a thousand flashbulbs.

Turned into clickbait.

—

He set the phone down carefully, like it might bite him.

Y/N didn't say anything right away.

Just scooted closer, resting her head against his shoulder.

"You’re gonna have to deal with this forever, aren’t you?" she said quietly.

He sighed, staring out at the river.

"Yeah."

A long beat of silence.

Then:

"You don’t regret it, do you?" she asked, so softly he barely heard her.

He turned immediately, cupping her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him.

"Not for a single second," he said fiercely. "I’d choose you every damn time."

Her eyes softened, filling with tears she didn’t try to hide.

"Good," she whispered. "Because I’d choose you too."

—

They sat there as the sun dipped lower — the world buzzing just outside the treeline, the future heavy but waiting.

Not easy.

Not quiet.

But together.

And that was enough.

———

Chapter 23: Choosing Forever

It wasn’t a decision they made overnight.

It wasn’t made with big speeches or ultimatums.

It happened like everything else between them — quietly, naturally, inevitably.

Y/N sat on the floor of Lando’s apartment, surrounded by half-packed boxes, holding up one of his old race suits like it was a sacred artifact.

"You’re seriously keeping this?" she teased, grinning.

"That’s vintage," he said, grabbing it from her hands and pressing it to his chest like a wounded soldier. "Historical."

She laughed, tossing a hoodie at his head.

"Fine. But it’s going in the 'shrine' closet."

He grinned, tackling her onto the pile of clothes, both of them laughing too hard to breathe.

They were doing it.

Building a real life. Moving in together.

Not because they had to. Not because the world expected it.

Because it was the next right thing.

Because home wasn’t a place anymore.

It was each other.

Of course, the world didn’t exactly make it easy.

The pressure didn’t stop.

If anything, it grew sharper.

A headline broke two days later:

"Sources Inside McLaren Concerned About Norris’ Focus Heading into 2026."

An anonymous quote — someone "close to the team" saying Lando’s relationship was a "distraction."

That he was "different."

That he was "softer."

The whispers turned into noise. The pressure turned into weight.

Team meetings got tense. Fans speculated. Media circled like vultures.

He got the call late one night.

Zak.

Serious. Careful.

"Lando," Zak said, voice crackling through the speaker, "we need you focused. The board's watching everything right now."

"I am focused," Lando said, jaw tight.

"You need to look focused too," Zak said. "Publicly. Especially now."

Translation: Choose carefully. Choose wisely.

Choose.

—

He hung up and found Y/N sitting on the couch, scrolling through a ridiculous meme account she swore kept her sane.

She looked up immediately.

"Bad?"

He didn’t answer. Just crossed the room and dropped onto the couch beside her, burying his face in her shoulder.

She ran her fingers through his curls, silent, steady.

"You don’t have to say anything," she whispered.

He lifted his head, heart pounding.

"I want to," he said.

He cupped her face in both hands, holding her like she might disappear if he let go.

"I choose you," he said fiercely. "Over the noise. Over the pressure. Over everything."

Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over before she could stop them.

"I choose you too," she whispered back.

And that was it.

Not a flashy decision. Not a press release.

Just two people choosing each other again and again and again — no matter how loud the world got.

———

Chapter 24: Win or Lose, It's You

The race weekend was brutal before it even began.

Everywhere Lando turned — reporters. Questions. Speculation.

"Has your relationship impacted your performance?" "Is the pressure getting to you?" "Is this the distraction McLaren was worried about?"

He handled it. He smiled. He answered carefully.

But inside, a knot twisted tighter and tighter with every word.

—

Y/N stayed out of the spotlight, like they agreed.

She didn’t want to make it harder. Didn't want to become another headline.

But she was there — quiet, steady, just beyond the paddock fences.

He caught glimpses of her between practice sessions — sitting cross-legged on the grass, sketchbook open in her lap, pretending not to watch his every move.

Their eyes would meet.

She'd smile — small, sure, like a lighthouse through the storm.

He'd breathe again.

—

On race day, it rained.

Not a drizzle. A full, chaotic downpour.

The track slick. The sky angry. The world holding its breath.

It was the kind of race that chewed up rookies and spat out veterans.

Every mistake magnified.

Every move scrutinized.

And Lando — Lando drove like his heart was on fire.

Not reckless. Not desperate.

Alive.

Sure.

—

Midway through, after a pit stop from hell, he dropped three places.

The team buzzed in his ear.

"Focus, Lando. You can still fight back."

He closed his eyes for half a second — saw her sitting in the rain, soaked but smiling, refusing to leave — and opened them with new clarity.

For her.

For them.

For himself.

He fought his way back — aggressive but smart, carving through the spray and the chaos.

Lap by lap. Corner by corner.

Until — P2.

Not the win.

Not the trophy.

But victory all the same.

—

After the checkered flag, soaked to the bone and shaking from adrenaline, he found her waiting by the barriers.

No cameras. No microphones.

Just her.

Y/N pushed the wet hair out of his eyes and smiled.

"You," she said, cupping his face, voice breaking, "you were incredible."

He laughed — half a sob, half a grin — and pulled her into a hug so fierce it lifted her off her feet.

"You’re my win," he whispered into her ear.

"And you’re mine," she whispered back.

They stood there — soaked. Laughing. Crying.

And for once, it wasn’t about headlines.

It wasn’t about contracts.

It was about this.

Them.

The only finish line that ever mattered.

———

Chapter 25: No More Hiding

The photos hit social media within minutes.

Not official portraits. Not staged PR shots.

Someone caught it — Lando, still dripping from the rain, still in his race suit, wrapping his arms around Y/N outside the paddock barriers, burying his face against her neck like the cameras didn’t even exist.

And for the first time — they didn’t care.

They didn’t flinch.

They didn’t run.

—

The internet exploded.

"Lando Norris and his girl: Paddock’s New Power Couple!" "Norris shows where his heart really is after stormy podium finish." "Real ones only: Lando and Y/N melt fans’ hearts after emotional race day."

The world finally saw it — not rumors. Not scandals.

Love. Real. Raw. Loud.

And they didn’t apologize for it.

—

The next day, Y/N sat beside him during a press day — quiet, off to the side, thumbing through a worn book while he fielded questions.

A journalist finally asked it straight:

"Lando, care to comment on the... touching moment we all saw after the race?"

He leaned into the microphone without hesitation.

"No comment," he said at first — then paused, glancing toward where Y/N sat curled up in a hoodie three sizes too big.

He smiled — wide, wrecked, unapologetic.

"Actually... yeah," he said.

He adjusted the mic slightly, the entire room hanging on his every word.

"I’m just lucky she puts up with me," he said, voice steady. "That’s all there is to it."

The reporters laughed. Cameras clicked.

But Y/N knew — because he looked at her when he said it — it wasn’t a joke.

It was the truth.

Simple. Unshakable.

Them.

—

Later, when they escaped the crowd and crashed onto the couch of his hotel room, Lando tugged her against him, pressing his mouth to the side of her head.

"No more hiding," he murmured.

Y/N smiled against his shoulder.

"Weren't hiding anyway," she whispered.

He laughed softly.

"No," he agreed. "We were just... waiting."

"For what?" she teased.

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes.

"For the right person," he said simply.

Her heart cracked wide open in the best way.

"I guess we both won," she whispered.

He kissed her — soft, sure, forever.

And in that kiss was every promise they didn’t have to say out loud.

Because they already knew.

Together.

Always.

No matter what.

———

Epilogue: A Place to Land

Six months later.

The apartment was still a work in progress.

Half-finished photo walls. Plants that survived only because Y/N whispered threats at them. Lando’s old race suits shoved into the back of closets she was slowly conquering.

It wasn’t perfect.

It was home.

—

Sunday morning spilled sunlight across the kitchen, dust motes dancing lazily in the air.

Y/N leaned against the counter, sipping coffee out of a chipped mug Lando had refused to throw away because it "had character."

She wore one of his old shirts — faded, too big, sleeves slipping past her elbows.

Lando shuffled in a few minutes later, hair messy, sweatpants low on his hips, yawning like he hadn't slept in weeks.

"You look like death," Y/N said cheerfully, raising her mug in greeting.

He flipped her off half-heartedly and stole the rest of her coffee with a grin.

"Morning, sunshine," he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She snorted, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

"Big day," she teased.

He groaned dramatically.

"Don't remind me."

They had a dinner to attend later — something small, just close friends and family — to celebrate his latest podium.

A real, hard-fought one.

The first one after everything — after the storm, after the noise, after choosing each other loud and proud.

Y/N set her mug down and looped her arms around his neck, rocking them gently side to side.

"You nervous?" she asked.

He shrugged, nuzzling into her shoulder.

"Not about the dinner," he said quietly.

She pulled back just enough to look at him.

"But about...?"

He smiled — that small, shy, completely wrecked-by-love smile that still undid her every time.

"About asking you something later," he said.

Her stomach flipped, heart slamming against her ribs.

She opened her mouth — then closed it.

Then opened it again.

"Lando," she breathed, hands tightening around his hoodie, "if you’re asking what I think you’re asking... you already know the answer."

He kissed her — soft and slow and sure.

"I was hoping you’d say that," he whispered against her lips.

Later, tucked into the chaos of their tiny, perfect apartment, a small velvet box sat hidden at the back of a kitchen drawer.

He wasn’t nervous about it.

Not really.

Because some things — the real things — don't need grand gestures or fireworks or perfect timing.

They just need a place to land.

And he had found his.

Right here. Right now. With her.

Forever.

—

One year later.

The living room was a mess.

Half-unpacked boxes. A dog barking at a rogue sock on the floor. Lando wrestling with a flat-pack bookshelf like it had personally insulted him.

Y/N leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, a stupid grin pulling at her mouth.

"You know," she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully, "most people read the instructions."

Lando looked up, hair sticking out wildly, an allen key clutched between his teeth.

"Instructions are for quitters," he mumbled around it.

She snorted, walking over and plucking the key from his mouth.

"You," she said, dropping a kiss onto his forehead, "are a menace."

"And you," he said, grabbing her wrist and tugging her into his lap with a dramatic grunt, "love it."

She laughed, arms wrapping around his neck automatically.

"You’re lucky you’re cute," she teased.

He grinned — wide, wrecked, unashamed.

"You’re stuck with me, remember?" he said.

"Wouldn’t have it any other way," she said, resting her forehead against his.

—

The dog barked again — a yappy, ridiculous sound — and Lando groaned.

"You wanted a dog," he reminded her.

"You named him Max!" she shot back, laughing.

"It was that or Toto," he shrugged.

She laughed harder, burying her face in his neck.

"You’re an idiot," she whispered, affection bleeding through every word.

"Yours," he said.

"Mine," she agreed.

Always.

—

Outside, the world spun on — headlines, races, flights, pressure.

Inside, they built a life in stolen moments. Messy. Perfect.

A home with fingerprints on the walls, dog hair on the couch, and love tucked into every corner.

A place to land.

Always.

———

The end! :’)

[zraiusxo]

hi hi hi! I have no idea if your requests are open but I'll just drop this here...

hange with a super cuddly non-morning person girlfriend. like, they try to get up in the morning, but reader just keeps trying to keep them in bed with kisses and cuddles and just super fluffy stuff

(i love your writing btw🩷)

hope this finds you well!

♡ hiihihi there! yes my requests are open, i just don't accommodate the requests that are similar to what i have made already. if that makes sense? anyways yes thank u for sending me a request! :D

Hange Zoë x Fem!reader Oneshot

The early morning light was soft, the kind of pale gold that filtered in with gentleness rather than urgency. Outside the window, birds chirped, blissfully unaware of the absolute mission Hange Zoe was currently engaged in.

They moved like a spy—slow, deliberate, one limb at a time—trying not to wake their sweet, sweet girlfriend tangled up against their side. Her hair was a sleepy mess across the pillow, her breath warm and rhythmic against Hange’s shoulder, arms still loosely curled around them.

Hange glanced down at her with guilty fondness, staring at her cute sleeping face for a few seconds. "My baby looks so peaceful," they thought. "Maybe I can do this without waking her."

They carefully peeled their arm out from under their girlfriend’s head—success.

Then they gently shifted their leg out from under her leg slung over theirs—progress.

Finally, they inched toward the edge of the bed like a slow-moving shadow, reaching with ninja precision for their glasses resting on the nightstand—

“Where do you think you’re going?” came her sweet voice. Groggy, soft, but very, very awake.

Hange froze mid-reach, busted.

“You were asleep!” they whispered, half-scandalized.

“I was,” she pouted, eyes still closed but arms already snaking out like sleepy tentacles to drag Hange back to the warmth of the mattress. “Then my pillow tried to leave me.”

“I am not a pillow,” Hange argued, though they didn’t resist much. Not when they were pulled back into the sea of warm blankets and soft kisses.

“You’re my pillow,” came her corrected reply, muffled into their shoulder. “And you smell nice. Like soap and sleep and… you.”

Hange sighed dramatically. “I had an important meeting at eight.”

“What’s more important than morning snuggles?” she replied with all the seriousness in the world, chin resting on Hange’s bicep as she looked up at them with sleepy, adoring eyes. “Do they give you forehead kisses at your meeting? Do they cuddle you and tell you you’re cute?”

“… No.”

“Exactly. Useless meeting. Stay here,” she whispered, burying her face against Hange’s shoulder again.

“You're way too clingy,” Hange chuckled, wrapping their strong arms around her waist. “Weapon-grade clingy.”

“You love it.”

“I really do.”

And just like that, the meeting was forgotten. Hange buried their face in the soft hair of the girl they loved, and decided, with zero regrets, that science could wait another hour. Or two. Or forever.

♡ um hey so this was super short, i wanted to drag it on but i didn't have any more ideas so um um yeah hwehe. hope u still like it though! i'd be happy to accept more requests. i'd love if y'all sent me tokyorev or jjk ones! :p

[theartofeggs]

@gremmed

tagged u so you'd know when i posted ur request lmao. I love it when Kylar's on the bottom. wish they didn't fight it so much in-game like just let me pamper u bbygirl. anyways it seems my dice yearn for trans men rn

Thanks for participating in my ask event! When a fic contains the PC as a main character, the PC will exclusively be referred to as "you," except from other characters, who will refer to the PC by their gender or some other defining characteristic. :) Brings me back to my "x reader" fic days. ahhh what nostalgia

The event's ended by now, but I'll finish the current requests I've gotten!

Synopsis; Kylar gets railed into oblivion

Prompt: Kylar x PC (Smut) / CW: kidnapping, dubcon (not really), breeding kink, PC = evil-type crazy, babytrapping but they both want to babytrap the other so uh? - Kylar = AFAB & male, PC = AMAB & GN ((mostly) dice rolls) + bonus F! Sydney, M! Whitney, and M! Robin (only mentioned)

Welcomed Payback

The chair you've been strapped to is rather uncomfortable. The least Kylar could've done was make sure it was a chair with padding or something instead of some wooden old rickety one that felt one wrong move away from just snapping under you. Oh well. At least he put you in a different room to whatever's causing all that ruckus upstairs. Though, you almost wish he did, considering that it keeps scaring him away from you. You're a bit fed up with him just coming and going. Him feeding you fruit by hand is just about the most contact you've gotten with him so far. All he's done other than that is draw you some and sing a couple out-of-tune love songs he made himself.

Did you purposefully get him to go crazy and kidnap you? Yes. You weren't ashamed to admit it at this point. You've been a bit enamored with him yourself ever since he introduced himself, probably more than he was with you. You didn't think anything of helping a bully victim out of beatdown, but when you saw how he looked up at you, like he witnessed the descent of a god, something in your brain was clicked on. Considering he wouldn't talk to you for the first few weeks of trying to get to know you, you ended up doing quite a bit of digging to find out more about him—you befriended Sydney and lulled out any and all stories she could remember about Kylar when he was little, then moved on to breaking into more than just a couple government archives to flip through Kylar's, and his family's, past documents.

You knew where he lived before he ever followed you back to the orphanage, and, honestly? It hurt a little, to see how he wanted to be part of your life so bad but didn't seem to want you to be in his. So, you thought you'd nudge him the right way. You noticed he was prone to getting jealous, whenever you'd chat with someone else during lunch, and you thought it'd be easy to use that against him. You'd flirt with anyone and everyone the moment you felt a familiar tingle on the back of your neck, and then relish in the dark, envious looks he'd give the hickeys on your neck when you saw him next. You weren't a big fan of sharing your body so casually with other people, but it would be well worth it if it meant you'd have Kylar in your hands at the end of your endeavors.

Robin was probably the only one you actually felt bad for. When Kylar had given you a little owl plush that so obviously had one of its glass eyes replaced with a camera lens, you had gotten an idea. Though, you struggled to find the right person to use for it. Sydney came to mind first, initially, since you were already close with her and could smell her crush on you, but figured it'd be too much effort considering how deep her connections are to the temple. She'd totally try to get you to join. There was also Whitney, but Kylar's already watched you suck him off at least a dozen times, so there wouldn't be a big surprise factor with him. But then, you remembered Robin.

You had successfully wooed him, flirting with and lewdly touching him every chance you had, until he finally visited you in your room at night. All it took was a week of tender words, and it made you pity the poor man, but you opted to ignore the feeling as you grinned up at the owl plush on your wardrobe when Robin was busy staining your innards with his cum. The feeling revolted you to some extent, but you had washed it out the moment Robin had fallen asleep. To your delight, Kylar was waiting for you outside the very next morning. He looked far from pleased, a distant look in his eyes, as he lifted up a long tube with something metallic shining within. You looked directly at him and bared your neck, eagerly accepting the tranq dart as it sunk into your flesh.

But, now that you were here, you couldn't help but find it a bit boring. The most entertainment you've gotten was Kylar's occasional visits and the nigh-constant rumbling above your head. For the past few hours, you've exclusively been humming the nonsensical tune Kylar had sung to you and fiddling with the rope tying you down. At this point, you would've settled for an awful soap opera on whatever old TV this decrepit manor still had lying around.

When Kylar came into the room next, you were already fully untied and just leisurely sitting in the chair, eyes closed and leg bouncing. "M-My love, d-did you not like the ropes? I-I'm sorry, b-but I put t-them on for a r-r-reason. Y-You'll run away if I d-don't keep you here." Kylar grit out, expression dark, as he stepped closer. He was probably on his way to tie you up again. Good. "Hm, but I didn't, did I?" You purred as he came up beside you, brushing a couple fingers up the length of his forearm, though you weren't too pleased to have his sweater between you and his skin. He paused, looking conflicted, and you took the opportunity to grab him and pull him onto your lap.

His face flushed a pretty red and he began to squirm, his hands grabbing onto yours as you kept his hips glued to yours. The clothes in your way would be off soon enough. You could be patient, just as you've been these past months. "A-Ah, d-did you want to do it that bad? I-I'm sorry, I haven't been a g-good boyfriend..." Kylar groaned as you grinded up against him, and the sound alone made you want to cum already. "What nonsense. You're the best I could ask for. Far too good for me." You murmured sweet platitudes as your hands slipped beneath his clothes. He shivered, and you began to rethink taking them all off. Maybe you'd just rip them where you needed to and let him keep the rest on—the room seems a bit cold for him.

He wriggled in your grasp against and you decided this was going to be a bad position to fuck him in, given he was already moving about like he was uncomfortable. So, naturally, you slid onto the floor below and carefully laid him down beneath you. Honestly, it might've been cleaner to fuck in a random alleyway, given the state of this room, but you weren't going to be picky all of a sudden. Your beloved was beneath you and waiting, legs and lips parted just for you, just like you wanted him to be. He leaned back up to take your lips in his, his tongue eager to explore your mouth as his hands ran across your back. You didn't even flinch when he tried to stick it down your throat, and gave him the same intense treatment.

You pulled your pants down and ripped a new hole in his at the same time, swallowing the bashful squeak he let out. You palmed him through his remaining underwear, your cock throbbing when you felt a pair of drenched folds through the thin fabric. You already knew he was trans, so it wasn't a surprise, but you truly had to thank whatever divine being made this man just so perfect. You wouldn't be able to count how many times you came just to the thought of getting to fuck a baby into your Kylar—because he would be yours if you put your kid inside him, right?

Kylar, to his wondrous credit, seemed to have a similar thought process. When he felt your fingers against his slick, he spread his legs even wider and shuddered erotically, only to pull away from your heavenly kiss. "Y-You should put it in. A-And not pull out, e-ever." He all but whispered the command, and you were more than happy to comply. You ripped another hole in the last remaining barrier and dug in with no further warning, relishing in the erotic yelp he gifted you, alongside all the other sounds he made as you began to thrust into him.

His insides were soft and gummy, massaging your cock as you slammed your hips against his. Any time he gripped onto you, you'd move in a particularly rough way, and if he whined, you left a new mark on his hardly exposed neck. He clung to you and didn't bother with keeping quiet, babbling all sorts of lewd things as he grinded up into your crotch at the peak of each thrust. At some point, you had to forcibly hold his hips still to keep him from accidentally shifting too far from you. It had the added bonus of giving you more leverage to ravage his cunt, though, so you were happy with the arrangement, even if Kylar cried about it.

Kylar came suddenly around you, soaking both your crotches with a thick cream, and you slowed for just a moment to give him some time to recuperate. When he began to whine again, you picked up the pace—drilling into him as fast as you could. As your own climax drew near, an unkind idea popped inside your head and made you pause. With a smirk, you slowly began to pull out of his swollen pussy, stopping only when Kylar's legs wrapped around the back of your hips and forced you to stay inside.

His face was still a delicious red, but his expression was dangerous. What a pretty boy. "C-Cum inside. N-Now." You chuckled at his cute attempt at being mean and happily resumed your gyrating, cumming with a drawn-out moan as you pushed your hips as deep into his as you could. "G-Good." Kylar hummed, clearly pleased with himself. You were far more pleased with yourself than he could've been, honestly. Hopefully after this he'd give you a tour around his house, and you could start planning on where the nursery would go.

the end >,o words : 1,701

[roxy-m-drawzz]

Hi. Okay. Totally just blindly shooting my shot here so please feel free to ignore this if this isn't what you meant but

I saw you have requests open and I love your artstyle so much I'm gonna actually explode like a confetti canon so would it be possible for you to draw my silly eltingville oc

The only good art I have of her is ship art with Pete but it is completely up to you if you want to draw them together or not!!

Okay I am so insanely sorry if this isn't what you meant, feel free to ignore this!! Thank you sososo much have a great day/night

For you!!

Hi!! :3 so to answer ya, yes! My requests are usually open, tho depending on how busy I am it'll take a bit! And also depending on how busy, it'll be from a sketch to colored like this one! ^^

Anyways enough of my rambles, I hope you like!

[lovetei]

Hiya! I'm not here to request just letting you know I love your writing and that I'd die for you

Anyways Mammon would definitely be the type of guy to fall to the ground when doing that trend where guys use a period whatever it is (definitely not me not knowing the spelling)

- 🐦‍⬛ Anon

I'M CRYING. WHY ARE YOU GUYS SO AFFECTIONATE THESE DAYS 😭😭 THANK YOU SO MUCH ANONNNN PLS NEVER HAVE A PHYTON SIZE YOU UP WHILE YOU SLEEP 🥺🙏🏻

And yes, Mammon is the type of guy to be dramatic when it comes to period bro.

MC: laying down “I got my period.”

Mammon: dramatically drops the chips he's holding, kneeling on the ground, pulls down his shades and throws it somewhere then teared up “OH, FATHER! WHY?!" hits the ground dramatically

Mammon: hitting his chest like king kong “GIVE IT TO ME INSTEAD!”

[dr1zzleboy]

Hi, Can I request a Dante (DMC 5) x husband!reader who is calm, melodramatic, sensitive and gentle, and wears feminine kimonos ? The others think he can't defend himself against demons, but he actually knows how to fight and if you don’t mind, I’d love it if he fought using a fan. Sorry for asking so many things, I hope it’s not a problem. Buenas noches 🌸🌷

Hi Anon! Thank you for making this request, I love it! (The more detail, the better the story!). Anyway, I hope you like it!

Advertisement! My first language is not English, so there may be grammatical errors! Maybe a little bit ooc(?)

Dante DMC 5x Husband!reader

Dante and you met at a pizzeria at night, very romantic, he had gone to recharge his batteries and clear his mind after hard work, and you, you just wanted to eat something and the only thing that was open was that pizzeria.

You had caught the half-demon's attention; your calm and gentle way of interacting with others had mesmerized him. You were like him, but much more serene and not as sarcastic. So obviously he was going to try to get your attention, in his own way obviously.

"Hey, I think I put too much sauce on my pizza because it's too hot, just like you." The silver hair said followed by a wink.

And you could only laugh and cover your mouth as you felt your face blush. And at that moment Dante knew he had to take your hand in marriage.

Something that happened after a lot of jokes, silly flirting, and spontaneous but romantic dates. The two of you got to know each other better, and it seemed like Sparda's son had won the lottery when he discovered that you also enjoyed hunting demons, with a style as unique and graceful as yours. Winning your heart and soon proposing to you when he invite you on a "routine" mission, it would actually be a surprise.

You thought you were done with the mission until a horde of demons appeared. Dante eliminating the horde with the Stylish Rank SSS, not wanting to arruin his surprise, and of course not wanting you to get hurt. Until he stopped in the middle of the fight to take out a ring (hidden among the Ebony & Ivory bullets), and say:

"Hey, killing demons is fun, but doing it with you is on another level.... Wanna be my hunting partner... forever?" When he finished a demon interrupted, but you killed the demon without hesitation with one of your fans and you looked at him only to nod and repeat yes over and over again and then he put the ring on your finger.

And from that night on, you began to work more together, spending more time together, although sometimes it got complicated when he had very risky hunts and didn't want his husband to get hurt. Sometimes you argued and it was complicated because you were... Melodramatic, although he liked it and he tease you afterwards.

"But then if you leave I'll be left alone and I don't know what I'll do and I'll probably die of sadness and loneliness!" The older mocked again as he wrapped his arms around your waist and tried to make you laugh.

"Even though I care about you and you make fun of me... What would have happened if I had really died? Huh? I'm quite capable of defeating demons, but I still have a soft heart." You said offended and crossed your arms, turning your face away from him.

"Then I would do everything possible to get you back with me and apologize for doubting you." He whispered into your shoulder and nuzzling your neck with his nose, his beard tickling you.

Sometimes his flattery and flirting worked, but other times not so much and it could only be solved by going out together, letting you teasing him too, letting you hunt by yourself (Although sometimes he would stay at the entrance of the office to greet you instantly and totally concerned.) or in a long stress-relieving session. (If you know what I mean ;D)

Dante always loved it when you showed others that you were not only a lovely person and had a pretty face, but also a hunter and expert with a fan. Always with graceful movements, showing it as a simple and flirtatious thing if you wanted to.

I'm sorry if it's not what you wanted, I can change it or modify it, also make it more like a story although it would have to be a series, but I would gladly do it! ^^

[joi-me-hoi-me-noi]

Hi!

Could I request a platonic Zoro x younger sister?

A small but powerful duel wielder, she takes a severe hit to the back saving a small family in battle. After stumbling back to the ship, she locks herself in the bathroom to hide from Zoro. Shes in pain, and scared of what her brother will think and afraid he will scorn her because of his *scars on the back are a swordsmans shame* belief. Eventually, he gets to her, and silently washes and bandages her back. The entire time, she is also silent, shaken and panicking inside, and slightly shaking. What happens next is completely up to you.

Thank you, but no need to write this one if it is uncomfortable! Have a good day!

A/n: This is sooo good!! Thank you for requesting ducky! Now enjoy this wonderful piece of work <3333

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She could feel the blood, warm and gushing through her wound. The hot substance stains her clothing, the shirt she wore now a muddy red. Thanks to the adrenaline, she couldn't feel it quite yet but she knew she'd feel it eventually. Her breathing was heavy as she held herself up against a wall of somebody's house. She was almost there, just a few more steps and she'd be on the boat.

She had to hurry before her brother came back onto the ship with the rest of the crew. At the thought of her brother, she ran as fast as she could to the boat. She climbed on and ran into the bathroom. Her brother would be so disappointed, she had to hide this somehow. She lifted the back of her shirt and winced at the sight of the wound. So much blood. Too much blood.

"Fuck." She whispered under her breath. "He's going to hate me...Oh my god, he's actually going to disown me."

She paces the small bathroom, rubbing her eyes trying to control her emotions. Her chest became tight as she held back tears while trying to control her breathing. Then a loud knock sounded on the door.

"Y/n? Are you okay?"

It was him, she wiped her eyes and fixed herself up as best as she could.

"Yeah. What's up?" Your voice shook slightly when you answered, maybe he didn't notice.

You heard slight mumbles from Zoro, he was talking to the crew. Then you heard the footsteps of the crew, they were leaving.

He knew.

"Open the door, Y/n."

You comply, gently setting your sword to lay against the wall, before opening the door. A stern but gentle look is on his face. Then he looks at your hands. Fuck! You forgot to wash the blood off your hands!

"Turn around."

You hesitate and look at him. His head is tilted slightly downward, eyes looking into your own and he uses his finger in a circle. You just comply while shutting your eyes, you don't know how he's going to react. You hear him sigh and then his rough hands are on your shoulders, pressing you into a stool in the bathroom.

You both don't say anything during the process of him checking your wound. You cry out in pain when he pours disinfectant on the wound but bite your lip to silence yourself. He wraps the wound tightly, your fingernails digging into the wooden stool before turning you around to face him.

"Were you just planning on hiding this from me? From everyone?"

"..."

"Y/n, you could die from infections with a wound like that. This is serious, you should've told me immediately!" He holds your shoulder with one hand, slightly shaking some sense into you.

You start shaking on your own now, wet hot tears dropping against your knees. You look up at him finally and just cry. He brings you in for a non-painful hug.

"I thought you'd disown me for that."

"How'd you get that anyway? Did someone ambush you?"

"No, I saved a small family from some guy."

He held your face in his hands.

"You need to worry about yourself. Worrying about others is going to get you killed."

As soon as those words left his mouth, you pushed his hands away.

"So you're telling me that you wouldn't save a family?! Zoro, are we serious right now?!"

"Yes, I'm so serious! How do you think I made it this far! I worry. about. my-damn-self. Why the hell would you even think of doing-"

"It was the fucking right thing to do! I'd do it again even if I had died!"

You get up to leave and he grips your shoulder.

"We are NOT done talking!"

"No, no, no. I'M done talking to you! Have you no fucking compassion or empathy?! You sound like a fucking fool!"

You pull your arm out of his grasp and leave him in the bathroom. The crew is back on the ship and they're looking at you. You just quickly run to your designated room and go to sleep.

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