#but i don’t think they ever actually say?

[verstappenverse]

Crash Into Me

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: After a crash lands you in the hospital, Max finally says those three words he's been holding in far too long.

2.1k words / Masterlist

You never thought the sound of your own heartbeat could be this loud. It’s almost deafening, especially when it’s paired with the sterile beeping of the hospital machines. White walls and the lingering smell of disinfectant aren’t exactly comforting, but what else could you expect from an emergency room?

Your leg throbs under the thick layers of bandages and painkillers, the medication takes the edge off, but not enough to make you forget what happened. You cringe at the memory, the screeching tires, the jarring impact. The instant panic that followed, Max shouting your name, the rush of people around you, hands on your arms, your back, trying to get you out of the twisted mess of metal and plastic.

It was supposed to be a fun day, just you and Max at the karting track, racing for the fun of it. He'd grinned at you before the start, all cocky confidence and teasing remarks, swearing he’d go easy on you. And you, always stubborn and competitive, told him not to dare.

Now here you are stuck in this hospital bed with a broken leg, a bruised shoulder, and an ego that’s just as bruised. You feel stupid, and the worst part is the guilt, because the look on Max’s face when he reached you, when he saw you lying there in pain and bleeding, that look might haunt you longer than the pain ever will.

As if on cue, the door swings open and Max walks in. His tousled hair is a mess, and his blue eyes are shadowed with worry. He’s still wearing his AlphaTauri hoodie, the navy fabric wrinkled and stretched at the cuffs like he’s been tugging on the sleeves.

“Hey how’s the patient?” he asks, trying to keep his voice light and teasing, but you can see the strain beneath it.

“Alive,” you mutter, forcing a half-smile. “Though I think my pride might be dead.”

Max chuckles under his breath, but it’s short, dry. It doesn’t reach his eyes. He walks over and sinks into the chair beside your bed, elbows on his knees, fingers laced together so tightly his knuckles go pale. He leans in slightly, just close enough that you can see the tension in his jaw, the twitch of a muscle there, the way he won’t quite meet your eyes right away.

“You scared the hell out of me you know that?” he says, and this time his voice is quieter.

“Didn’t mean to,” you reply with a small wince as you shift your position.

Max flinches at the movement, his hand twitching towards you instinctively before he pulls it back, curling it into a fist on his knee. “Yeah, well next time try not to crash into the barrier at full speed,” he mutters, trying again for stern but missing by a mile and there’s a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “Maybe don’t try to overtake me on a corner like that either.”

“You would’ve done the same,” you retort, raising an eyebrow at him. “Don’t pretend you’re so innocent Verstappen. I’ve seen you on the track. You’d overtake your own grandmother for the win.”

Max huffs, but a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “True,” he concedes. “But I’m not the one lying in a hospital bed am I?”

“Touché.”

A moment of silence falls between you, the kind that’s somehow both comfortable and unbearably heavy. Like you’re sharing something without actually speaking. The beeping of the machines fades into the background as Max leans forward, elbows propped on his knees, hands rubbing together restlessly. His eyes flicker to yours, then away just as quickly, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how to begin.

“Max,” you say softly, breaking the silence. “I’m okay. It’s not your fault.”

He lets out a humourless breath, almost a scoff, and shakes his head. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t feel that way.”

You open your mouth to reassure him again, but he keeps going.

“I should’ve told you to slow down. You were going way too fast and I saw you getting too close to the edge, hell, I knew it but I just…” His voice cracks slightly, and he clenches his jaw, biting the inside of his cheek like he’s punishing himself.

“But you what?” you ask gently.

Max meets your gaze, eyes glassy. “It’s so stupid, I just... I didn’t want to make you feel like I didn’t believe in you. You’re so damn good, and I didn’t want to be the guy who cuts in and tells you to ease up like I know better. I wanted to show I trust you to handle anything… and I hesitated.”

You manage a small, breathy laugh, though it stings a little with the effort. “Max let’s be real, you know I probably wouldn’t have listened anyway.”

That earns a real reaction from Max, a soft, helpless huff of laughter, but there’s still a weight there.

“Yeah. I know.” he chuckles.

There’s another pause, and you can’t help but notice the way Max keeps fidgeting, his leg bouncing slightly, his hands restless. You’ve known him for long enough to recognise when something’s eating at him.

You tilt your head slightly, studying him. “Max, it was karting. It wasn’t life or death, I made the call and it was an accident please don’t let this weigh on you. I was being reckless.”

“Yeah but I let you,” Max says, and suddenly his voice is fierce with emotion. “I was right there. I could’ve done something, and now you’re in a hospital bed because I didn’t do anything, I didn’t protect you.”

You watch him for a moment, then reach out and touch his hand, fingertips brushing his knuckles lightly. “Max you’ve always pushed me to be better. That’s why I trust you so much."

His eyes fall to where your fingers graze his hand, and he flips his palm over, catching your hand in his like it’s instinct. Like he needs to feel your pulse, your warmth, your aliveness. He holds it tightly as if to remind himself you’re still here.

And for the first time since the accident, the silence feels just a little lighter.

“So…” you drag the word out, stretching it with as much faux drama as your bruised ribs will allow, “how long do I have to endure your babysitting services?”

Max’s eyes snap to yours, and he blinks, momentarily caught off guard by the shift in conversation. “As long as you need me,” He leans back in the chair, a wry smile tugging at his lips, finally easing the tension in his face. “Not that I’m complaining… it’s kind of nice having you stuck in one place for once.”

“Oh yeah, because I’m so helpless,” you say with mock seriousness, gesturing to your bandaged leg. “Just a poor, broken soul. What would I do without you?”

Max snorts. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too comfortable playing the victim. You’re still going to owe me for all this.”

“Owe you?” You raise an eyebrow. “For what, exactly?”

“For the emotional trauma,” he replies, trying for levity, but his voice wavers and suddenly you see his demeanour shift more serious again. “Watching you crash like that… hearing the medics… I don’t think I’ve ever felt that kind of fear before.”

He runs a hand through his hair again, fingers threading through the mess. “It sucked. I hated it. You didn’t move for a second, and I thought…” He stops himself, biting down on whatever awful thought had formed.

You look at him, really look at him, and realise how shaken he actually is. Max, the guy who’s fearless on the track, who takes risks for a living, who brushes off danger like it’s just part of the job, is truly shaken. And it’s because of you.

“Max,” you say softly, the word catching in your throat.

His eyes snap to yours immediately, like the sound of your voice pulled him back from wherever his thoughts had drifted, and for a moment something fragile and electric settles in the space between you. He opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out at first just a shallow breath.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he says, and this time the words come fast, unfiltered. “I don’t know if I’ve ever been that scared before, it’s different when it’s you.”

The admission hits you like a punch to the chest. The hospital room feels smaller all of a sudden, like the walls are closing in. You don’t know how to respond, your throat tight as you try to process what he’s saying.

“Max…”

Max leans back in his chair, his expression clouded as he glances at the floor, his jaw clenching slightly. “I—” He pauses, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I’ve never been great with this kind of stuff, you know? The… feelings part.”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Yeah, I’ve noticed,” you tease lightly, hoping to ease the weight of the moment.

He lets out a soft, shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck in that familiar nervous way. “I’m trying,” he admits. “But after today, seeing you like that... it’s been messing with my head.” He swallows, his throat bobbing. “You scare me… because you matter more than anything else.”

Your heart starts to beat faster, not because of pain or fear, but because of the way Max is looking at you, like he’s standing on the edge of something terrifying and wonderful all at once.

“What do you mean?” you ask, your voice soft, laced with anticipation and something else, hope, maybe. Or fear. It’s hard to tell the difference right now.

Max meets your gaze, and for a second, everything around you disappears. The hospital room, the pain in your leg, the beeping machines, it all fades into the background, as if the universe knows this moment is too important for distractions.

“I’m saying…” he starts, then falters, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard. His fingers twitch slightly where they rest against yours, and he exhales.

“I love you,” he says, barely above a whisper, but the way he says it, it’s everything, a confession, a promise, and a plea all wrapped into one. “I know we haven’t been together that long, and maybe it’s too soon, or maybe I should’ve waited for a more romantic moment, but after today…” He trails off, eyes flicking down like he’s afraid of what he’ll see in yours. “God, I just—” He presses his fingers to his lips briefly, trying to keep his composure. “I couldn’t live with the thought that I might never get the chance to tell you. I love you. And I needed you to know.”

For a moment you forget how to breathe. Not because you don’t feel it too, you’ve known for a while that you love him, but hearing it like this, so raw and honest in the middle of all this chaos it takes your breath away. Your heart swells so fast and so full it almost hurts.

“Max…” you breathe, your voice caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Your eyes sting, but you’re smiling, overwhelmed by the honesty in his face. “I love you.”

The words fall out of you like they’ve been waiting their turn. “I think I’ve known it for a while,” you add, grinning through the tears that threaten to spill. “I just didn’t expect it to come out because I crashed a damn kart.”

Max’s mouth curves into an adorable smile warm, crinkled, a little teary and for the first time all day the fear in his eyes fades. “Of course,” he says, chuckling as he squeezes your hand. “Leave it to you to nearly take yourself out just to get to this moment.”

You laugh, shaking your head as a tear escapes and slides down your cheek. “Hey, if it works, it works.”

He leans in slightly, his other hand reaching up to gently brush the tear away with the back of his knuckle.

“I love you,” he says again, quieter this time. Like he just needed to say it one more time to make sure it was real.

You smile up at him, heart thudding hard beneath your bandages and bruises. “I know.”

And in that moment, everything else pain, fear, uncertainty, melts into the background. Because you said it. He said it. And now it’s out there, tangible, pulsing between you like the steady rhythm of something solid and true.

The kind of love that doesn’t wait for perfect timing.

The kind that shows up even in the chaos.

The kind that stays.

[anniflamma]

AnniFlamma, we all love your fanart and animatics of Epic: The Musical, please don't let a few shitty people demotivate when 100x those people love and adore the stuff you make, along with all other animators!

Stay safe and take care, we will always be here and I can't seem to repeat this enough but we love your art

Thank you and everyone for reaching out to me. I will be honest with you all that what happened did upset me a lot, but I am very lucky to have people to go to for support. I will even blame some of them for making me cry, my friends, I mean, because if I am upset and if someone asks me if I am okay, I just break down. 😅 But I used our little server as a ground to vent, and right now I feel much better now.

But I will still be honest that I meant what I said that my interest in making Epic fan content has reduced a lot. I still love Epic, and I still really want to do the whole Ithaca saga, but I have also realized that posting content about it has caused me to feel anxious.

An example is when I finished The Challenge animatic, I felt an extreme wave of anxiety when I was going to press the upload button. And the worst thing? My anxiety confirmed the fears. I have gotten tiktok comments saying that I am a freak for drawing Penelope nude despite it being in a non-sexual way. Apparently, I have to be constantly reminded that female bodies are icky and the world hates women. Aaaaaaand then to get hit by that TikTok video of thousands of people shitting on me, Duvetbox, Gigi, Mircy, Neal, and so many more…

If you have noticed, I have posted less, all types of content for Epic. I don’t do my headcanons anymore, I never wrote that full review of Epic, I feel less keen on drawing fanart, let alone joking about shipping here online. I remember when I made a joke about shipping Aphrodite and Athea because they were the only female characters interacting with each other (ignoring Hera), and then I took it as a critique that Epic failed the Bechdel test. After that, I got plenty of anonymous messages about how I am an evil person for shipping those two goddesses… Just say that you don’t know what the Bechdel test is and block me... 😑

I also hate how my first negative experience with the Epic fandom was pure homophobia toward my Bible animatics. Like, they used negative language toward gay people to tell me to make Epic content instead. There is this weird obsession where people expect me and other artists to only do one thing, which is Epic, and if we dare to do something else, we get punished or infantilized, like we didn’t have any say when Casper commissioned us for Stories of Styx. Don’t get me started on how fucking awful people were to Casper and Teagan….

I hate how people easily tell others things, only for them to unquestionably believe everything said about me. Like the amount of "Anni made Ody/Circe porn, uwaaaa!!" And then, the moment someone questions them and forces them to realize I never made such a thing, they double down and say that I shouldn't have made Circe nude in the original animatic "cuz female bodies are icky" or the classic "Well, I haven’t seen the porn video, but someone told me it existed, so I’m going to believe it exsits." Like, you could tell these people that the sky is green, and they would believe you.

Then there’s that whole "Anni supports rape" or "Anni felt bad for the suitors and wanted Penelope to get raped" insanity. Those quotes stems from ppl was crashing out when I made a post criticizing Epic’s way of addressing the topic of rape. In that post, I was suggesting that I would like the story better if Odysseus were actually morally ambiguous when killing the suitors. How could anyone even think Ody was in the wrong for killing the suitors because he wanted to protect Penelope? How can he be a monster after that? I don’t know, I support a husband protecting his wife from gang rapists, but I guess that was the worst thing for me to ever say, huh? Like, how dare I criticize their almighty Jorge…

It’s insane that I have an easier time handling hateful Christians compared to TikTok Epic fans. 😅

Oh well... I’ve had so many bad experiences with the TikTok Epic fandom over the past two years. And eventually, you just want to log off.

I’m thinking of stopping posting Epic content at all on TikTok as a first step. If TikTok Epic fans hate my fanart that much, then I’ll do them the favor of never seeing it from my account. I will, however, continue posting my Bible animatics there. And if I continue working on my Hold Them Down animatic and if I ever finish it… I will only be active here on Tumblr and on YouTube.

And so, at this moment, I will take a pause from Epic. It probably won’t be that long because, despite everything, I love that musical. But I also have to remind myself that, despite there being so many negative remarks toward not only me but the other artists, there is a lot of love from you actual fans. I have about 138K subscribers on YouTube. That’s 138K individuals who love my work so much that they want to see more of it. THAT IS TOTALY INSANE! And I will never forget that! And I am so thankful for all of you and your support. Thank you and I love you guys! 💕

I’m also planning on making a better-formulated post about this another day. All of this is just me ranting and want to take a short break, focusing on something else.... Maybe... Venice the musical? 😅

[dark-l-angel]

may I please request batfam x reader where they randomly find out the reader has Omnilingualism? the reader just randomly drops lore then the batfam is like "HUH?" me pleading:

A/N: Sure luv ❤️ sorry it took a little while.. but here you go 😺

Omnilingualism is the ability to understand all languages.. spoken, written, or otherwise.. instantly and fluently, without having to learn them first.

Batfam x Omnilingual reader + onshot bonus "wait- YOU CAN SPEAK EVERY LANGUAGE?!"

Bruce Wayne:

He pretends he isn’t impressed. He really tries. But the moment you casually correct a mistranslation in one of his case files from an obscure dialect in the Amazon, his eye twitches.

Definitely runs tests in the Batcave. "For data" he claims. Lies. He just wants an excuse to hear you switch flawlessly between Ancient Sumerian and Icelandic.

Low-key starts trusting you with delicate negotiations at Wayne Enterprises. "Accidentally" leaves confidential contracts in languages no one in the room understands except you.

Oh, and you catch him brushing up on his French. He'll never admit it, but he’s trying to catch up to you.

You once whispered something scandalous to him in flawless Latin during a gala. His hand on your lower back tightened just slightly. Dangerous man, but you’re worse.

Dick grayson:

Immediately obsessed. No chill whatsoever.

"Say something in Italian!" "Now Portuguese! Oh oh.. Tagalog!"

Thinks it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. Genuinely struggles to focus if you speak in another language, especially something romantic-sounding. (You catch him blushing like a schoolboy, every time.)

Tries to flirt back in another language but completely butchers it. You gently correct him, and it turns into an unintentional couples language lesson.

You catch him Googling "How to propose in 20 languages." Cute idiot.

Teases you with fake words in gibberish, just to see if you catch on. You always do.

Jason Todd :

Oh, this man loves it. Filthy mouth, wicked grin, and a brain full of bad ideas.

Purposely swears in different languages to see if you catch him. You do. Every. Single. Time.

One time you threw back a sharp insult in flawless Russian, and he damn near swooned.

Has you read his favorite banned books in their original languages. "I just wanna hear you say it, babe." No you don’t, Jason. You want to hear them moaned, don’t you?

Will 100% ask you to dirty talk in languages no one else understands in public settings. "What? I like living dangerously."

Bonus: If you tease him in French, it destroys him. He can’t fight it. French + your voice = his personal kryptonite.

Tim Drake :

Immediately runs to his laptop. He needs answers.

"Omnilingualism is a hyper rare meta-ability.. there are fewer than seven confirmed cases worldwide.. wait- does this mean you can read codes in programming languages like they’re actual languages?!"

Makes you his official decryption buddy. His Batcomputer just became 500% more efficient.

Low-key fascinated, high-key turned on.

Asks you to record audio lessons for him in various languages. You catch him listening to them at 2am with a suspiciously dazed smile.

Will absolutely text you random phrases in dead languages at ungodly hours of the night. "For science."

Damian Wayne :

Instantly annoyed that he’s no longer the most linguistically gifted person in the room.

Challenges you constantly. "Recite this ancient Arabic proverb." You do, flawlessly, and throw in the correct accent for good measure.

He respects you deeply but refuses to admit it directly.

Secretly asks you to teach him rare dialects to communicate with his animals better.

The moment you start speaking to Titus in perfect, gentle Arabic, his eyes go wide. You’ve officially earned his permanent admiration.

Bonus: You tease him by complimenting him in languages he doesn’t know yet. He storms off to study them immediately.

Alfred Pennyworth

Unbothered king. He knew from the start.

Smiles softly when you casually slip into old, classical British idioms even Bruce doesn’t understand.

Occasionally tests you with the oddest phrases from obscure Commonwealth colonies. You pass every time.

"I dare say, Miss, you have a talent most remarkable."

Secretly keeps a list of the rarest languages to see if there’s anything you don’t know.

Family game nights? Forget it. You dominate every round of “Guess That Language.”

You become their favorite asset in undercover ops. Fake passports? Check. Local slang? You’re a walking encyclopedia.

They jokingly call you their “Batbabel.” (Yes, even Bruce lets that nickname slip once.)

Jason is convinced you must have alien blood. "Bet you could sweet talk the Martians, too."

You like to randomly mess with them by switching languages mid-conversation. Pure chaos.

And they all fall a little harder every time you do.

Oneshot bonus : Wait- YOU CAN SPEAK EVERY LANGUAGE?!

It started, as many things in Wayne Manor do, in the most stupidly casual way possible.

You were seated at the long dining table, lazily flipping through your phone while Alfred served brunch. Tim was half-asleep beside you, his forehead dangerously close to his waffles. Jason was reading War and Peace in Russian, because of course he was. Damian was arguing with Dick over the proper form for his new kata routine, while Bruce pretended to read the paper but was very obviously just eavesdropping like the rest of them.

Then, Alfred, with his calm British cadence, said something softly under his breath. In French.

"Mon dieu, cette confiture est un d��sastre…" (this jam is a disaster...)

Without thinking, without even looking up from your phone, you mumbled back, perfect pronunciation and all,

"Pas nécessairement. C’est la confiture d’orange, elle est censée être comme ça." (Not necessarily. It's orange marmalade, it's supposed to be like that.)

Silence.

Dead silence.

Tim lifted his head slowly, eyes bleary but confused.

Jason lowered his book.

Damian squinted at you like you’d just sprouted a second head.

Bruce folded his newspaper with a quiet, deliberate finality.

Dick? Dick’s eyes were sparkling with mischief.

"Since when do you speak French?" he asked, grinning like the cat who caught the canary.

You blinked, confused by the attention. "Huh? Oh, I don’t."

Wrong answer.

"You just did" Tim said flatly, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

Jason leaned forward on his elbows, sharp smirk spreading. "Care to explain, mon ami?"

Your brain, still not connecting the dots, offered the most unhelpful thing possible: a shrug. "I don’t know. He just said the jam was a disaster. I just... knew."

“Wait.” Damian’s eyes narrowed into slits, laser-focused. "What did Alfred say, exactly?"

You repeated it, casually.

He tried to hide it, but his brows twitched upward. "That’s correct."

Now Jason was grinning like he knew something juicy. "Try Russian."

"What?"

"Say something in Russian," Jason pressed, eyes alight with curiosity.

You hesitated, then shrugged. "Что ты хочешь, чтобы я сказал?" (What do you want me to say?)

Jason’s chair screeched back from the table as he stood, hands in his hair. “NO. No, no, no, what the hell is this?!”

"That was perfect," Tim said, his voice pitching higher, caffeinated brain now fully awake.

"You said you don’t speak these languages?" Bruce asked, a suspicious tilt to his head like he was running seventeen background checks in his mind at once.

You frowned, getting a little defensive now. "I don’t! I never studied Russian, or French, or whatever else. I just... get it, I guess?"

Dick gasped, like someone hit him with a Batarang of Realization. "Wait wait wait.. omnilingualism."

Jason’s mouth dropped open. "No freaking way."

Tim’s eyes went huge behind his glasses. "That’s an actual thing, you know. Hyper rare meta ability. The brain automatically understands and reproduces any language it’s exposed to."

Damian narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms. "Prove it."

"Say something in Ancient Latin," Bruce instructed, his detective mode fully activated.

You tilted your head, focusing, and then fluently responded,

"Memento mori, pater. Etiam noctes detectivi requiem merentur" (Remember death, father. Even detectives of the night deserve rest.)

Pin-drop silence.

Jason cackled so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.

Dick was clapping like you’d won an Olympic gold medal.

Tim, meanwhile, frantically pulled out his phone, already Googling ‘omnilingual reader discovered at brunch’.

Bruce, stoic as ever, gave you a single nod of respect. "We’ll need to run tests."

"You mean interviews," Dick corrected, leaning closer with a grin. "Because I, for one, have a thousand questions."

"Congratulations" Jason said dryly, raising his glass of orange juice in your direction. "You’re officially our walking, talking, sexy Google Translate."

You rolled your eyes with a crooked smile. "Glad I can be of service."

"And you will be," Bruce added, already making plans in his head. Oh, you were never getting out of this one.

[kxsagi]

Kindly requesting mma fighter!gf x blue lock boys 🙏

I’ve been hyperfixating on the idea for a hot minute and would like to know your take on these 🤭 As for characters, could you have Isagi, Bachira, Sae, Shido, Reo, Kaiser and Barou? (As well as any other characters you’d like to add) Thank you ☺️

“𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐭”

a/n: this is giving “my girlfriend could kill me (and i’d let her)”

ft. itoshi sae, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, shidou ryusei, mikage reo, kaiser michael, barou shoei

itoshi sae

deadpan “wtf” when he first sees you break a guy’s nose clean in a sparring match. 

not scared of you… just extremely respectful of you. 

“remind me to never piss you off.” 

secretly enjoys watching your training vids. they're always playing in the background while he studies game footage or stretches. he says it's for "noise." 

loves that you can protect yourself. he doesn't worry when you're out late because who would even try you? 

your bruised knuckles get the gentlest kisses. he's silent about it, but you catch the softness in his eyes every time. 

itoshi rin

"your form’s off. tilt your elbow when you throw." 

yes. rin critiques your fighting technique. 

trains with you for fun, but it turns serious fast. you both end up full-sparring, and the neighbors call the cops because it sounds like a crime scene. 

lowkey turns into your water boy during competitions. towel ready, water open, dead silent but there for everything. 

he doesn't like people staring at you in your fight gear, but he'd never say that. instead, he’ll just glare until they combust. 

jealous when you get press attention – “they should be watching me, not her.” (he’s just petty + he loves you.) 

isagi yoichi

your biggest fan. like. front row, wearing a shirt with your name on it. 

he gasps when you throw punches like a mom watching her kid in a karate tournament. 

“wait wait wait was that a spinning elbow??? baby that was SICK!!!” 

always tries to “train” with you and ends up flat on his back every time. 

absolutely posts clips of you on his insta stories with heart emojis. 

when fans flirt with him, he literally goes, “my girlfriend would kick your ass in two seconds.” 

bachira meguru

he thinks it’s the hottest thing ever. 

challenges you to play-wrestling. ends up in a headlock giggling like a maniac. 

asks you to teach him cool moves just so he can show off in public and say “my girlfriend taught me that!” 

gets way too into your pre-fight rituals. “do you want me to braid your hair? can i scream like a hype man before you go in?” 

draws little doodles of you mid-kick. has a sticker of you on his phone case. 

actually becomes a little possessive when other fighters flirt with you. all smiley until he says, “she’ll break your nose if you try that again.” 

shidou ryusei

it’s a match made in hell. chaos x chaos. 

you two flirt by trying to knock each other out. 

sparring is just foreplay, honestly. 

“babe you broke my rib that was so hot.” 

starts fights in public just so you can jump in and “save” him. 

he’s obsessed with your strength. like, genuinely obsessed. will brag about you to strangers like “my girlfriend could kill you with her pinky.” 

also not-so-secretly into the idea of you pinning him. yeah… 

mikage reo

shocked at first. like, his elegant, stunning girlfriend… punches people for a living? 

gets over it fast and becomes the most extra supporter of all time. 

hires a videographer to make hype montages of your fights. 

“you need better sponsorships. i’ll call my manager.” 

wears suits to your matches like he’s at fashion week. 

deadass once tries to bribe your opponents to forfeit so you won’t get hurt. you banned him from doing that again. 

gets really flustered when you pin him against the wall. “d-don’t use your pro moves on me, babe… please…” 

kaiser michael

he acts cocky until he sees you knock someone out in 30 seconds. 

“... okay that was kind of sexy.” 

makes it his life mission to look cooler than you in public. spoiler: he fails. 

“you’re lucky i like strong women.” while actively looking like a golden retriever when you punch the heavy bag. 

kisses your bruises like it’s romantic. it kinda is. 

super competitive during sparring. refuses to go easy even when you dominate him. 

also: “imagine our kids. they'd be gods.” 

barou shoei

does NOT know how to process you at first. 

like. you fight?? professionally?? 

refuses to admit he’s impressed. instead he says “your guard’s sloppy.” 

you beat him in arm wrestling and he sulks for a week. 

but deep down? he’s proud as hell. watches all your matches. complains when they don’t show your good side. 

sometimes trains with you, but it always turns into a competition. 

super protective even though you clearly don’t need it. “don’t talk to her. she can handle herself, but i’ll break your jaw too.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[formulaonecrumbs]

hi!! i’ve just like binge read all of your stuff and it’s so beautifully written

do you think you could do a charles fic with the co-parenting to lovers trope? like their kid helps them get together or like he flys out to see their kid and realizes that life is so much better with them? i have a whole like plot im sorry 😭

stay a little longer 🕯️

Charles Leclerc x ex(?)!reader

summary: co-parenting finally turns into something more when their daughter decides it’s time for a date.

warnings: co-parenting to lovers, kid matchmaker, suggestive content, kissing, car makeout, implied smut, love confessions, second chances

A/N: thank u anon for the requuessttt!!! i feel like i still don’t write charles very well 😭 like yes i believe the guy is romantic but i think i made that his whole personality in this WHOOPS. random but i love when drivers have girlfriends cuz now i got sm material for the mood-boards. i hope u enjoy it and as always love u ❤️

༻ ❤︎︎ ༺

you never expected him to show up.

not like this, not without warning, not with that soft look in his eyes and a suitcase in his hand.

it’s been almost six months since you saw charles leclerc in person. six months since he kissed your cheek at the airport and promised he’d try to visit more. six months of facetime calls with your daughter holding your phone too close to her face, grinning with her tiny teeth and telling him she lost another one. six months of you pretending that you were completely fine raising her mostly alone while he chased podiums around the world.

but now he’s standing on your porch like it’s nothing. like he’s not the father of your child and also the person who once broke your heart in the softest, most unintentional way.

“hi,” he says.

you blink. “charles? what—what are you doing here?”

he looks down at his shoes. he’s wearing sneakers that used to live in your hallway. the ones your daughter would trip over every time she tried to run to the door. “i had a week off. i wanted to see her.”

you let him in because you always do. because she misses him even when she doesn’t say it, and because you’ve never been able to fully close the door on him.

your daughter screams ‘daddy!’ the second she hears him. he drops his bag and catches her mid-run, spinning her around in the tiny living room you’ve made your home. you watch from the kitchen, hands still on the mug you were making, heart doing something stupid and warm and dangerous in your chest.

“you’re not leaving tonight, are you?” she asks him, small hands on his cheeks.

he shakes his head. “not tonight. not for a few days, actually.”

and you swear, you see her little face light up with something more than excitement. something like hope.

it’s not supposed to be easy, but it is.

charles fits back into your space like he never left. he sleeps on the couch and does the dishes after dinner. he drives her to school in the mornings and makes up silly songs about brushing her teeth. he folds laundry while you’re at work and lets her paint his nails on the weekends.

and you keep waiting for it to feel like a mistake. to feel like a tease, like you’re slipping back into something that already ended.

but instead, it feels like healing.

like late nights where he sits across from you, whispering stories about races she’s too young to hear. like laughing over wine after she’s gone to bed, both of you tipsy on nostalgia and something heavier. something that tastes like maybe.

he doesn’t flirt. not really. but sometimes, he looks at you like he remembers every moment you ever shared. and sometimes, when he thinks you’re not paying attention, he stares at you like you hung the stars.

it happens on a tuesday.

you’re rushing to get out the door for work. your daughter can’t find her other shoe and you’ve already yelled twice, which always makes you feel like a terrible mother. charles is standing in the kitchen, packing her lunch like he’s done it every morning for the past year instead of the last five days.

and then she says it.

“daddy, are you staying forever now?”

you freeze. so does he.

“because i think you should,” she continues, completely unaware of the tension she’s stirred up. “you make mommy laugh again. and you’re really good at pancakes.”

charles doesn’t look at you. he kneels down and kisses her forehead. “i love you, chérie,” he says quietly.

you don’t talk about it.

not until later, when she’s asleep and you’re both sitting on the back steps with a blanket around your shoulders and the sky full of stars.

“she wants us to be a family,” you whisper.

charles’s voice is soft. “i do too.”

your chest tightens. “charles…”

“i know,” he says. “i know i left. i know i haven’t been here like i should have. and i’m not trying to ask you to just forget it. but i want to be here now. not just for her. for you, too.”

you stare at your hands. your heart. the little cracks that never quite healed after he left.

“why now?” you ask.

he takes a breath. “because every time i see her smile, i see you. and every time i talk to her, i wish you were beside me. and because… i thought i was doing the right thing. giving you space. letting you live your life without the mess of mine. but i’ve never been more wrong.”

you look at him. really look. and he looks scared. vulnerable in a way he never is behind the wheel. and you realize, in this quiet moment under the stars, that maybe you’ve been scared too.

you don’t say anything. you just reach out, take his hand, and let your fingers intertwine like they never stopped knowing how to.

he moves in slowly.

a toothbrush at first. then a drawer. then he’s picking her up from school without you asking, buying groceries like he knows the list by heart. you fall back into love like it’s muscle memory. slow, steady, familiar. this time, without the fear.

your daughter starts calling you her “mommy and daddy house.” she draws pictures of the three of you holding hands, all smiling with the sun in the corner.

one night, she asks if you and daddy are married again.

charles chuckles. “not yet, chérie.”

you shoot him a look. “not funny.”

he leans in, his voice low against your ear. “it could be.”

and you feel it again—that dangerous, stupid hope that maybe this time, it’s real.

because he came back. because he stayed. because your little girl believed in love enough to put it back together. and because this time, you’re ready to believe in it too.

༻ ❤︎︎ ༺

she catches you holding his hand in the kitchen.

it’s not a big deal, really. just fingers brushing as you pass him the milk. but charles catches your pinky with his, gives it a gentle squeeze, and you smile in that way you only ever do with him.

your daughter sees it all from her seat at the table, eating cereal like it’s the most important meal of her life.

“are you guys in love again?” she asks, spoon halfway to her mouth.

charles pauses, milk almost spilling over the edge of his glass. “what?”

“you heard me,” she says, chewing dramatically.

you shoot charles a look. he shrugs, trying not to laugh.

“i think you are,” she continues, totally unfazed. “you look at each other like the people in mommy’s movies. and you sleep on the couch together sometimes. and daddy made you pancakes in a heart shape.”

you can’t even deny that one. he really did.

“okay,” she says, pushing her bowl away. “it’s time.”

“time for what?” you ask, even though you already know.

“you’re going on a date.”

charles raises an eyebrow. “we are?”

she nods. “yes. i’ll stay with mamie. and you two can go somewhere fancy. with candles and music. and then you’ll kiss.”

you laugh, shaking your head. “what is it with you and kissing lately?”

she grins. “uncle pierre says it’s how people fall in love.”

charles makes a face. “i’m going to block his number.”

you get ready while she helps charles pick out a shirt. you hear her scolding him for choosing the boring grey one and insisting he wears the one with the tiny flowers because “mommy likes when you look like a soft boy.”

you come out in a dress that hasn’t seen the light of day in years and charles just stands there, looking like he forgot how to breathe.

“wow,” he says softly. “you look…”

you raise a brow. “like a soft girl?”

he laughs. “like the girl i’ve been in love with since before i even knew it.”

you blink.

he smiles, nervous and sweet and very charles. “too much?”

“no,” you say, cheeks warm. “just enough.”

you drive to a little italian restaurant tucked away in the quieter part of town. it’s dimly lit, with fairy lights above the patio and old music playing inside. it’s romantic in a kind of unintentional way. the kind of place that doesn’t try too hard because it doesn’t need to.

charles pulls your chair out for you and keeps glancing across the table like he’s still trying to figure out if this is real.

“this feels weird,” you say, sipping your wine. “in a good way. but weird.”

he nods. “like we’re pretending we’re not already a family.”

you smile. “yeah.”

“but i want this too,” he adds, eyes soft. “the dating part. the butterflies.”

you meet his gaze. “you still get butterflies?”

he reaches across the table, lacing your fingers with his. “every time you look at me like this.”

and god, you feel it too. that flutter. that full-body warmth that only ever comes when you’re really, really falling.

after dinner, he takes your hand and suggests a walk. it’s chilly but not cold, and the stars are out like someone painted them just for tonight.

“this is the part where we kiss under the moonlight,” you joke, bumping your shoulder into his.

charles stops walking.

“what?” you ask, turning.

he steps closer. “i was waiting for the right moment.”

your breath catches. “is this it?”

he nods, eyes flicking to your mouth. “yeah. i think it is.”

and when he kisses you, it’s slow and soft and everything you’ve been missing for years. it’s full of promises and apologies and second chances. it tastes like wine and laughter and home.

you stay like that for a long time, under the stars and the streetlamp, kissing like you’re twenty and just discovering how good it feels to be wanted.

when you get home, the lights are low and the house is quiet. your daughter is asleep, curled up in her bed with her stuffed giraffe and the nightlight glowing faintly beside her.

charles shuts the door gently behind you.

you turn to him, heart racing, still a little breathless from the night.

“so…” you whisper.

he walks toward you, slow, eyes locked on yours. “so.”

“was this the part where we’re supposed to kiss again?”

he nods, grinning. “definitely.”

he backs you into the couch and kisses you until you’re both laughing and gasping and tangled in each other. his hands in your hair, your arms around his neck, the world spinning just slightly off its axis in the best way.

“we probably shouldn’t wake her,” you mumble against his mouth.

“then we’ll be quiet,” he whispers back, kissing down your neck.

you end up in the car—because it’s late and you can’t quite make it upstairs, and also because there’s something wildly thrilling about being wrapped around each other in the dark leather seats, trying not to fog up the windows too much.

his hands on your thighs, your lips tracing every freckle on his collarbone, his voice low and hoarse as he says your name like a prayer.

after, you sit in the front seat, legs curled into his lap, his hand resting gently on your bare knee.

“we should do this again,” you say, grinning against his shoulder.

charles kisses your temple. “i plan on it.”

and you believe him. completely.

because this time, he’s not just here for the night. this time, he’s here to stay.

THE END :>

[mywritersmind]

TROUBLE - LN4 part two

previous part

og summary : Trouble comes in many forms, for Lando Norris, it comes in the shape of his teammates sister. A week at Oscars brings more temptation and impulse than any other start to a season.

summary : A day that was supposedly for Lando and his sight seeing turns into a day full of holding back touches, fast car rides, water fights, and his hand on hers.

listen up : i don’t know anything abt cars so don’t come for me if i said smt wrong abt the mclaren F1. dirty jokes. dual pov! comment to be on taglist!

words : 4082

⋆｡‧˚⋆

lando

I wake up to hushed voices outside my door. I practically roll out of bed, seeing that it’s five in the morning and moving to the door, still half asleep.

When I open it, I expect it to be Oscar with Lily or maybe even Nicole- what I don’t expect is a random man I've never seen, grinning down at Y/n.

She has her arms crossed and stops whispering when she sees me. She steps away from him, the man turning to look at me now. Y/n doesn’t say anything, just grabs his arm and tugs him down the hallway.

I watch her go, her hair a mess and her body barely covered by her sleep set. I blink, still confused and honestly too nosy to not get answers.

She’s back a minute later, shaking her head, “Don’t say a thing.”

I shrug, watching her run her hands over her face, “I wouldn’t dare.”

Then we’re both quiet, neither of us moving and a smirk growing on my face. She gives in easily, stomping her foot and groaning quietly, “He’s my ex. And neighbor.”

“That’s… fun.”

“No. It’s idiotic!” She leans against the wall, frowning still, “You can’t tell anyone. Oscar would freak if he saw him.”

This makes me stand up straighter, “Why?”

“He may or may not have broken my heart… long story.” She sighs, closing her eyes before turning fully towards me again, “And we didn’t do anything!”

I smile, “I believe you.”

“He just- wanted to ‘talk’.” She puts finger quotes over the word ‘talk’. “I shouldn’t have let him in.”

My eyes narrow, not judging her, just assessing her emotions. “But you did…?”

She looks at me as if I slapped her, “Go back to sleep, Lando.” I don’t think she’s ever said my first name before. “Sorry for waking you.”

“Don’t worry-” My alarm goes off on my phone at the perfect moment, “I’m getting up to run, anyway.”

She nods, still looking tired but angsty, crossing her arms. I hesitated before saying, “Wanna come?”

I know I shouldn’t have said it the second she looks at me. Her eyes curious and way too distracting. “Really?”

“Why not?”

“Not like I'm gonna get any sleep after that.” She shivers as if she’s remembering the image of him in her room, “Okay. I’ll see you out front in ten.”

⋆༺

you

When accepting Lando’s offer to join him on his morning exercise, I forgot one thing.

I cannot run.

I’m out of breath and sweaty, falling onto the couch as Lando actually LAUGHS at me! “I think I'm dying.” I mumble, feeling like i’ve just ran a 10k.

“You don’t exercise much, do you?” He walks around the couch, a smoothie in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

I scoff, “Excuse you!” He hands me the water, something so simple but very sweet to me. I chug that shit, making my breath even more ragged, “Why would I!?”

He smiles, sitting down next to me and resting his arm on the back of the couch, “Well usually when you exercise, you tend to get better at specific things. If you start running everyday you won’t look like you’ve just crawled out hell-”

I hit him with a pillow, my skin on fire even in my tight shorts and sports bra. “Fuck you.” I whisper, standing up and walking into the kitchen so he doesn’t see me smile.

“Do you know what we’re doing today?” Lando looks back at me, watching me fill my water.

“Apparently I'm showing you around? I’m not sure.” I shrug, plopping a few ice cubes into my glass, “Lily and Oscar wanted to go to the beach so maybe that too-”

Oscar walks in then, his eyes tired as he yawns and waves weakly at me, “Speak of the devil.” I mumble as he glares at me.

“Good Morning to you my amazing and wonderful sister.” He grins at me, now I know he wants something.

“Pancakes?” I ask, knowing my brother too well.

“Favorite sister.” He ruffles my hair as I push him away. He turns and stops dead in his tracks. I realize that he must have just spotted Lando, the brit watching our sibling antics quietly.

“What’re you doing?” He asks, turning back to me and eyeing my outfit.

“We went for a run.” Lando says casually, bringing his straw to his lips.

“You got her up this early to… run?” Oscar asks skeptically as I understand that he’s not just shocked that I ran, but that I ran with Lando.

“I was already up.” I try to diffuse the tension I know is coming, “Trying to clear my find and stuff.” I pull the ingredients out of the cabinet and fridge, biting my tongue.

“Right…” Oscar shakes his head, seemingly letting it go and joining Lando on the couch. As Oscar scrolls through the TV, Lando glances back at me, not giving me a smile or anything before turning back to his teammate.

I turn to the stove, my eyes wide and cheeks red. This is going to be a long week.

⋆༺

lando

“What do you mean, you’re not coming?” I ask Oscar as he pushes past me to grab Lily’s bag.

“Lily just killed her foot-” He says, looking more worried than i’ve ever seen him, “I’m taking her to the hospital.”

Y/n walks in with Lily next to her, her hand around her waist as Lily’s arm is over her shoulder. She’s limping with a pained look on her face, “Shit. I can come- I’ll drive.”

“No it’s fine!” Lily says quickly, “I’ll be fine. You two can just go explore. You should have fun.”

Y/n looks from me to Oscar, “Lily we can come with you it’s really not a prob-”

“No!” She moves away from Y/n, hopping to Oscar who wraps his arm around her, “Just- send me pictures!” And with that, they’re gone.

Y/n looks at me, blinking. Nicole hurries back inside, shutting the door, “That boy I swear…”

“Mom, do you want to come with us today? Lily won’t be back for a while and you should-”

“I’ve gotta work, love.” She explains, “Take Lando to all the touristy spots!”

Y/n turns on her heels, looking at me skeptically, “So… what do you want to do first?”

⋆༺

you

What do you do when you’re tasked with exploring your home town with a man you’ve known for one day and are extremely attracted to?

In my mind, you take him to the best place for him to get as shirtless as possible… the beach! Even though my mom said that wasn’t good enough, I’ve been craving the water.

I still bring him there, how could I not!? Best beaches in Australia are right in my hometown. He’s probably all sad and broody from grey Britain anyway!

I know I already saw Lando shirtless yesterday, but this… this is different.

Tanned, wet, sandy, AND shirtless. His curls are wet and I'm pretty sure a smile is permanently drawn onto his face. He plops down next to me, music blasting from a speaker a couple people down.

“I love the sun.” He mumbles into the towel, sitting up and unknowingly flexing his arms. I breathe in and look back at the water.

“I can tell. I’m jealous. I wish I got as tan as you.” I flick sand onto him as he rolls onto his back. He’s in blue and reminds me a bit too much of prince eric.

“Yeah you might wanna sunscreen up.” He teases, pressing my arm as if I'm bright red! I do not burn that easily, thank you!

I scoff as he tosses the bottle at me, “Fuck off!” I grab it, “You wanna put it on me?” my manner changes in an instant, seeing an opportunity and taking it.

His tooth catches on his lip as he nods. I smile and hand him the bottle gently. Ah, men… So easy to manipulate. So easy to trick.

I move my hair from my back slowly, but the second I hear the bottle unlatch, I spin around and grab it, squeezing it onto him.

“Trouble!” He yells, the sunscreen on his chest and splattered onto his face. I’m running away before he can even open his eyes again. “Get back here!”

I run straight into the water, diving under the first wave and regretting it as soon as his hand meets my ankle. He tugs me back as I come back up for air, his hands fully white and coming straight for me. “No!” I scream, trying to swim away, but his hand is on my waist and smearing the sunblock all down my arm.

“Cunt!” I yell louder, shoving him under water. He pops back up, coughing and laughing.

“You’re so dramatic!” His hands are clean now, shaking out his wet curls onto me.

“You basically called me pale!” I argue, laying back in the water and catching my breath, “I reacted like a sane woman.”

“Nothing about you is sane.” He dunks his head again. I watch him go under and match him, not being able to see him in the salt water but feeling him there.

“You’re the one who fell for it.” I shrug, not forgetting the want in his eyes.

He shakes his head, sinking into the water again so I can only see his head and shoulders, “I’m understanding the trouble thing more and more...”

I can’t help but smirk, “Good thing you can handle it.” Him. The dim kitchen light. The ice cream. His fucking eyes never leaving mine.

“You want me to handle you?” This, surprises me.

He’s matching me quicker than I expected.

I just smile and swim to shore, “Come on, Norris! We’ve got plans!”

Like I said, my mom said the beach wasn’t enough ( even though it’s only his first day here! ) so we took Oscar’s Mclaren and booked it to Fitzroy market.

Lando said he likes shopping and my favorite place to do it is here! The area is crowded with people in way cooler outfits than me and vendors with tons of vintage items.

Lando and I are still in beach wear. He’s in all black, probably baking in the sun but looking ridiculous in a shirt with cutoff sleeves and backwards hat, a camera slung around his neck.

I gravitate to some vintage juicy couture while Lando is on the rack over looking at jerseys. The woman working the booth grins when she sees me. “Y/n! My girl!” She hops over to me, side stepping the others around, “How’ve you been!?”

“Mitch!” I grin right back at her, “Better than ever, babe, i’m out of school!” She laughs, her full head of curls bouncing with her. “How are you!? Business is booming, I see!”

“Amazing! Broke up with Jonah too…” She looks down, her glasses shading her eyes for a second before she pops right back up, “But fuck him!”

“Fuck him!” I join in.

“Yeah, Fuck him.” Says a deeper voice. Jonah comes walking up behind Mitch, wrapping an arm around her before she has the chance to push him away.

“Hey, J.” I roll my eyes at him, respecting his role in Mitch’s life but definitely not the way he dated her.

“Hey.” Mitch sways my arm, leaning in a bit and lowering her voice, “Who’s the hottie?”

I glance back to my companion for the day, he’s holding up a jacket at the booth over and talking to the guy who runs it. “That is Lando…” I turn back to them.

“Boy toy?” Jonah raises a brow as I shake my head.

Not yet.

“Boyfriend?” Mitch looks so shocked that It makes me laugh.

“No! Boy i’m showing around today.” I clarify, “And someone I should probably go after before he gets lost.”

Mitch and Jonah nod, both knowing the extreme confusion one can get into at the market. I kiss Mitch on the cheek and wave goodbye to both of them.

When I turn around, Lando is handing money over to the man and smiling when he sees me. There’s that smile again.

He swings the bag in his hand as we walk away, “You come here often?” The curly haired man glances back at my friends.

“Maybe too much.” I shrug, “Mostly because Mitch carries the best shit ever.”

“Oh yeah?” He nods, “I heard you two talking… what’s up with the tall one?” I laugh when he refers to Jonah.

“They’re… a lot. Soulmates? Maybe. But definitely not meant for eachother. You know? At least, not right now.”

He scrunches up his nose, “I don’t know.”

“They love each other and stuff but Jonah needs to get his life together. All we can do is help Mitch get over him and pray that we don’t end up like them.” It sounds mean, but the two really are in a situation that I would hate.

“Shit.” He nods as we turn into a booth with a million shoes, “I had something like that once.”

This makes me turn to him suddenly, “Yeah?”

“Without the soulmates part… I think I may have been Jonah in that situation. Thank fuck it’s over, though. The girl was not as nice as Mitch.” I nod and smile at his use of my friends love life, “What do you think of these?”

The conversation switches to a horrendous pair of sneakers he’s holding up, “Oh babe… no.” I make him put them back and drag him to the correct section.

He’s like my own barbie doll! One that can talk and definitely bite back.

I knew I would lose Lando in this godforsaken place! I’m in too deep and have three bags in my hands.

I walk around to find him, possibly getting distracted by all the pretty things, but settling my eyes on him once again at a plant shop.

He’s in the corner talking to two girls and a guy, looking a bit shy and way too hot in his backwards cap. I watch him for a second, weaving through the people and walking across some shops.

He finds me pretty fast, it’s probably due to the all white i’m wearing in a sea of colorful button downs and denim. I can see him excusing himself and hurrying over to me, “You left me.”

I laugh, “I lost you!”

He shakes his head and starts walking away, “Sorry prissy, I forgot I'm babysitting you.”

He shakes his head, smiling back at me, “I got cornered by fans.”

“Better than me being there and having rumors spread on twitter of your ‘possible new girl’.” I laugh and walk out of the crowd, the sun hot on us and making me crave a cool drink.

He laughs at this, “You wish.”

I scoff, turning back to face him, “I can leave your ass in the middle of melbourne, you know?” I hold up the keys to my brothers car as he steps closer.

“I dare you.” He says, “I guarantee if you got into that car alone you’d be in a wall in five seconds flat.”

I swat the keys at him, “I’m a great driver!”

“Not in that.” He shakes his head, “Has Oscar ever actually let you driven it?”

I bite my lip, not answering.

His eyes flick down to my lips, then back up at my eyes, “Come on then.” He snatches the keys right out of my hand!

“Norris!” I yell, hurrying after him and across the street as he walks faster, “Hey!”

I catch up to him on the other side, he’s still swinging the keys around his finger with a grin on his face, “Where’s the most open, empty road you know?”

I raise a brow and follow him into the parking structure, “Why…?”

Our car is easy to spot, he walks over to it, and to my surprise, finds his way to the passengers side. Looking at me over the expensive car, he tosses me the keys, “We’re gonna hit two hundred in this thing and I want to make sure there’s no bystanders in the car of your havoc.”

He slides into the car, making me squeal and swing the door open quickly, sliding into the way far back driver's seat and turning the keys into the ignition.

He sees my eyes light up as I adjust the seat, “You ever kart as a kid?”

“A bit. Got kicked out a few times.”

“Why…?”

I eye him and click my seatbelt into place, “Too fast, too reckless…”

He shakes his head and mumbles a curse under his breath before tightening his seatbelt. “Don’t make me regret this.”

⋆༺

lando

I was right. Oscar has never let her drive his Mclaren before, and for good reason.

She can’t drive stick shift, first of all. But I only let her briefly panic before I grab a hold of the stick and tell her to go slow.

She does not go slow. Tate Mcrae is blasting through the speakers as she speeds up the empty street with the windows rolled down. The street is right next to the beach and I can see the sun about to go down.

Y/n break checks me and makes me hold on tighter. My arm is around the back of her seat so I can control the stick shift with my dominant hand. She’s laughing and going faster and faster by the second.

It doesn’t take her long before she gets the hang of it but I still hang onto the stick as she sings along to Sports Car.

I’m not stupid, I know her little games and yes, they might be working, but I will not be giving in. This week is supposed to be relaxing, recuperating, and definitely NOT romantic.

Although, the track that Y/n and I are heading is definitely not romantic. More on the side of we both want each other in a hot sexy way.

Her hair whips all around us as she turns the corner, making her way higher up the hill. I’m now realizing that the hill is more of a mountain, the street getting smaller and the trees growing farther away.

I watch her speedometer as it inches higher and higher, her smile growing bigger as it goes, “Christ, are all Piastri’s this quick?”

She laughs out loud, “Next time you compliment me try not to include my brother in it too!”

I can’t help but let out a laugh, staring at her profile as the landscape zips by us. Her cheeks are pink from the sun and I bet if I put my hand to her neck i’d be able to feel her heart racing.

I shouldn’t be thinking this. I know I shouldn’t. But my eyes wander too easily down her smooth skin, her bikini top untied with the strings hanging over her thin top like it’s nothing.

I drag my eyes off her tits and back on the road, knowing I'm in too deep for someone I just met. We slow down as we reach the top, or at least, where she thinks is close enough.

She practically jumps out of the car, running over to a small patch of flat land and a bench that overlooks the water.

“Holy shit.” I walk slowly behind her, looking out at the view and watching her figure jump up and down. I grab my camera that I forgot is around my neck and snap a photo.

She looks back at the perfect moment, her face shadowed and her hair a mess around her, but it just… fits.

I sit on the bench as she sets her ass down on the back of it, her feet tapping the wood next to me.

“So. Your first full day in Melbourne! Thoughts?”

I smile, “I’ve been here before.”

She groans, “Not with me. Was I a good tour guide?”

I nod, “The best.” We didn’t do a whole lot but that’s the best part. Y/n is completely fun but totally chill at the same time.

My phone lights up, it’s a text from Oscar.

“Osc says that Lily is Ok and they’ve been chilling at the house for a while. He’s asking where we are.” I look up at the girl whose eyes are set on the pink and orange sky.

“Tell him we’re making out sloppy style in his car.”

The only change in her behavior is a tiny tug on her mouth, “Trouble…” I mumble and text him that we’re watching the sunset and will be back soon.

“I’m only voicing what we both want.” Jesus Christ, this girl… I’m rarely speechless, especially after a comment like that. But this girl is insanely captivating and I've never wanted to give in more.

I’m struck again at how beautiful she is, the sky reflecting off her as if she’s a part of the earth.

“Nervous, Norris?” Her head dips down to my level.

“We should get back.” I say, leaning my head back on the wood.

“Cop out.” she whispers before hopping off the bench and moving back to the drivers side.

“Woah! You are not driving back.”

“Try and stop me.”

⋆༺

you

I can’t drive stick. I wasn’t lying about that. Although now that I think about it, it would be a great way to get closer to a man.

Lando’s hand is over mine the whole way back. I insisted I could do it (or at least try!) but he guided my every move anyway. Hot. As. Fuck. I try to watch the road and not his huge veiny hands on mine, but mostly fail.

We’re split up after another quick dinner. I talk to Lily about her new addition to her shoe collection (a black boot semi-permanently on her foot as of today), while Lando, Oscar, and my Mom talk about the movie they’re watching.

I’m in my bed a while later, the lights still on in the hallway and Lando’s door hasn’t creaked shut yet so I know he’s not there.

My mom had thanked me immensely for showing Lando around and Oscar gave me a small thanks while looking at me funny. I don’t think he trusts me with his friend, especially with my past and a certain neighbor.

And sure, I want him to trust me! But I want Lando more.

I’m so zoned out that I don’t notice the man in my doorway, knocking on my open door with a tired smile on his face.

Lando has one hand in his pocket, looking sunkissed and content. “Hey.” I sit up, crossing my feet under me.

“Hi.” He smiles as if he’s about to blush, “I just wanted to say… Thanks for today. It was really fun.”

“I didn’t scare you too bad in the car?” I ask as his head meets my door, his neck straining against it.

“You weren’t too bad. Definitely got my adrenaline pumping.”

“Just say I'm an amazingly fast driver and move on.” I shrug, leaning back on my hands and puffing my chest out proudly.

He watches me- watches my body. I don’t have a bra on, something obvious in the cool space of our air conditioned house. I’m wearing a new set, light yellow with lacy little shorts. He likes it and I can tell.

He groans, running a hand down his face and shutting his eyes tight. “Your brother is gonna hate me by the end of this trip.”

I quirk a brow, playing the innocence card as I push a rogue strand of hair out of my face, “Why’s that?”

He looks at me again, his tongue running over his teeth as he challenges me. I want him, that’s the truth. But i’m not that easy.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, trouble.” he pushes off the door, turning around and not looking back.

“Dream about me. But don’t be too loud tonight, yeah?” I tease, “Thin walls. I learned that the hard way.” I emphasize ‘hard’ never missing an opportunity to tell a joke.

He throws up one hand, the other still on his face as he walks out of my room and turns to go to his. I smile to myself, standing up and shutting the door he was too busy to remember.

[clockworkcrow]

someone who actually had a background in neuropsychology would understand how much of your brain’s interpretation of stimuli you cannot control. you don’t get to control the experience of surprise by changing your rational beliefs. surprise has nothing to do with rationality, no matter how many times you try and say that it does. it’s not expectations as in “i literally expect this to happen in the real world” but “my brain has simulated this experience before so it is better prepared to deal with it.” familiar/unfamiliar doesn’t depend on what we we KNOW but what we have ever CONSIDERED. surprise is not about your actual beliefs or your inability to differentiate fiction and reality. you just keep saying “surprise” to mean something it doesn’t mean.

btw, you want to talk neuropsychology? surprise happens in the pons which is in the brainstem. by the time the signal reaches areas of the brain involved in higher-order thinking, the emotion is over. it is an extremely fleeting emotional state that habituates to repeated stimuli whether we want it to or not. because the brain is able to generalize it will still be at least partially habituated to a situation it experienced in fiction even if the person has no trouble differentiating from fantasy and reality. that part happens in higher order thinking—after the surprise. changing your higher order thoughts regarding a situation does not affect surprise in any way save that the more you think about a particular situation—real or false, and whether you completely accept this reality or not—the more familiar it will become.

dropped the walrus vs fairy question on a group of psychologists today and not only did the majority agree the walrus would be more surprising, the one with the strongest background in research responded to the ‘but fairies aren’t real’ argument with “are your beliefs so inflexible that you’ve never considered you might be wrong about what’s real and what’s not?” and honestly i haven’t recovered

[strayingawayy]

it's okay, i'll tell you again...

...the one where you keep forgetting but jisung is patient and a man in love.

this fic is for me, mostly. lol.

"-and then changbin was like ‘jisung-ah! no one can rap those words together, are you insane?’ and i swear i was about to prove him wrong, but then seungmin stole one of my two americanos and i got distracted-"

jisung is talking fast, words tumbling over each other, hands moving animatedly as he paces the room. he’s vibrating with excitement, barefoot in sweatpants, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, hair still a little damp from his shower and the slightest of stubble prominent on his face.

you watch him from the couch, heart swelling. he’s happy, your baby is happy. that much is obvious. his voice is light, effortless, full of something big.

but there’s a problem.

you have no fucking idea what he’s talking about.

your hands clench slightly against your lap. the words all make sense individually, but strung together, they slip through your fingers like water. your brain is still foggy, edges blurred, time folding in on itself. you remember what happened days before, the dizziness, the cold tile floor. you remember jisung’s hands, warm and steady, his voice pulling you back as your body seized, but now.

now, you’re sitting here, watching the person you love talk about something clearly very important to him and you don’t remember what it is.

jisung spins on his heel, still grinning. "and the best part jagi, lix thinks this is the best track i’ve ever done. like for a sub-unit like, no joke, he-"

he stops.

his expression shifts, just slightly. the kind of change only someone who really knows him would catch. the flicker of hesitation. the way his fingers twitch, mid-gesture, and he has to hold in his excitement for a minute.

"you okay?" his voice is softer now, eyes too. still warm, still jisung, but quieter.

you swallow. "i- uh- yeah. i just.." your throat closes. "ji, i don’t…"

his eyes scan your face, his lips unknowingly puckering out in a slight pout. he waits.

your fingers twist in the hem of your, no-his, hoodie actually. "i don’t remember what you’re talking about."

a pause.

jisung doesn’t move, doesn’t react the way you expect. no frustration, no disappointment. just silent understanding.

"you don’t?"

you shake your head, ashamed. fuckfuckfuck. "i'm so sorry, i should, right? i mean, it’s about your album-"

"mixtape: dominate," he supplies, voice gentle.

"yeah." your breathe wobbles. "i knew about this, didn’t i?"

his gaze softens. he walks over, sits beside you, knee knocking against yours. "yeah," he says, tone making it sound like it's that simple, that acceptable for you to forget about it. "but it’s okay."

your hands tighten around your sleeves. "it’s not okay," you whisper. "it’s your album, jisung. something you're so excited about. i should remember."

jisung is silent for a moment.

"hey." he nudges you lightly. "look at me."

you do, because that's all you can do now.

and he smiles. not out of pity, not forced. just soft, unwavering. jisung. yours.

"you wanna know about it again?"

you blink. "you don’t mind?"

his expression turns almost amused. "sweetheart, i could talk about this forever. you’re honestly giving me an excuse to yap."

your chest aches.

jisung leans back against the couch, tilting his head toward you. "alright. let’s start from the beginning."

and then he tells you, with his hands intertwined with yours and head resting on your shoulder.

about the late nights in the studio, the way he kept reworking the same verse until chan threatened to unplug his mic, something that hadn't happened since his pre-debut days. about the lyric that nearly got scrapped because they felt it didn't have the same energy without the swear words. about the way the whole group hyped each other up, him, changbin and chan staying late just to perfect the production, minho recording harmonies at 3 a.m. with a voice half gone from exhaustion.

he tells you about his part, how his verse came together, how he spent hours layering the ad-libs, how he poured everything into this.

and you listen.

you listen, even though you should remember. even though it stings, even though the guilt still lingers at the edges.

but jisung just keeps talking, filling the empty spaces, filling you with the pieces you lost.

and somehow, it doesn’t feel so bad.

because it just feels like it's enough. like it always has, with jisung by your side, hand in yours.

[my-castles-crumbling]

ask - jegulus - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 620

“So. Who’re you all going to ask to the Ball?”

Regulus stared around the large group as Sirius’s question sank in. It had been strange that the two very opposite bunches of friends had collided, but what with Pandora and Lily, and Dorcas and Marlene both being couples, it had been a natural thing.

“I mean, it’s pretty obvious for most of us,” Dorcas replied, wrapping her arms around Marlene and grinning.

“Yes, I’m asking Pete,” Remus replied, grinning at Sirius’s affronted expression.

But it was James’s response that had Regulus’s stomach lurching. “I’m asking Regulus,” he said casually, ignoring the shocked looks from everyone, most of all Regulus.

-

It became a Thing. Every time the Ball was brought up, James mentioned that he was going to ask him. It was ‘Yes, when I ask Regulus…’ or ‘After Regulus agrees to go with me…’ or ‘Regulus and I…’ It was driving Regulus absolutely insane, because he knew that James was joking. He could tell from the twinkling in his eyes, the mischief in his smile.

But to Regulus, it hurt. Because Merlin, he wanted it to be real. And the fact that he wanted that was mortifying.

Every time James brought it up, it was like a stab to the ribs. A kick to the gut. He tried to smile and laugh with the rest, but he wanted to cry, which was the scariest feeling he’d ever felt in his life. He hated feeling anything, and sadness? Longing? No, it was terrifying.

-

One day, he snapped.

“So, I’ll pick up Reg at…maybe seven?” James was saying to Remus, who nodded along. “And then we’ll-”

“Stop!”

All eyes turned to him.

“Stop, James,” he mumbled, steeling himself to avoid the tears. “I know you’re not actually going to ask me, and it’s not funny anymore. I know the idea of someone fancying me is a joke to you, but you’re being a prick!”

And with that, he fled.

He assumed, of course, that the footsteps of the person following him belonged to Barty. But the hand that grabbed his shoulder was wider. Warmer.

“Regulus, please-”

“It’s fine, James,” he mumbled, still walking, trying to shake him off.

“Please listen.”

Annoyed, he turned. “What?” he demanded, gritting his teeth and giving James a death glare. “What do you want?”

The older boy looked as distraught as Regulus felt. “I want you to go to the Ball with me,” he answered softly. Regulus scoffed and began to turn but James continued. “No, really! I thought–I thought joking about it would like… get you used to the idea?” he smiled and shrugged self-consciously. “The idea that I fancy you, you know? That way, when I asked, you wouldn’t just…rip me to shreds on the spot.”

Regulus gaped. Could this really be genuine? His heart was hammering in his chest so loudly he could hardly hear James’s word.

“I get if you’re mad, it was kind of a shit move,” James said with another half-smile. “But..please don’t think I’d ever joke about you being…fanciable. Especially when I…Godric, I can’t even describe how much I fancy you,” he admitted, face turning pink.

Regulus swallowed, still shocked. “Well,” he breathed, trying not to shake, “unfortunately, the feeling is mutual,” he admitted with a frown.

It took James a moment to understand what he meant, and then he broke into a huge grin. “Y-yeah? So you’ll go with me to the Ball?”

But now, he’d regained some of his footing. “I never said that,” he replied lightly, smirking at the older boy. “You’ll have to see when I ask you.”

It was satisfying, he had to admit. Walking away and leaving a shocked, dazed-looking James Potter behind.

[southernimpala]

backseat

sam winchester x fem!reader (ft. dean :)

summary ↬ you're in the backseat of the impala 'asleep', but really, you're just eavesdropping on sam & dean

notice ↬ pure fluff (i promise the angst is coming ya'll (and the smut ;)), dean is a shit as always but not really he's actually a good brother in this one, who else wants to fall asleep in the back of the impala like pleeaaaseee, no use of y/n, lowercase intended !

wordcount ↬ 1.4k

the rough leather backseat of the impala itches at your legs as they lay curled atop it, your head leaning on the window, foggy and freezing against your cheek as the chilly temperature of north dakota bleeds through. you try to catch up on some much needed shut-eye on the way to the motel. 

 which, unsurprisingly, is very hard to do when sam and dean winchester are in the front seat, fighting over the stereo.

“if i hear one more led zeppelin song, dean—” 

“woah, woah.” you peek your eyes open slightly to see dean’s finger pointed at sam, his face scrunched in a scowl, “there is no room for zep slander in this vehicle, sammy.” 

sam laughs sarcastically, shaking his head, his growing, soft wisps swaying in front of the headrest, “fine, then, i suggest you play something produced past 95’.” 

dean clicks his tongue in distaste and turns to look past the steering wheel again, “kids don’t know good music.” suddenly, just as you close your eyes, dean calls your name, looking at you through the rearview mirror, “what do you think we should play?” 

 “silence,” you grumble, trying to shield your vision from the bright street lamps as they flash orange light rhythmically past your closed eyelids. 

“alright, ac/dc it is then,” he says, sliding in a new tape—the one you recognize instantly from memory, marked with ‘ac/deanc’ scrawled in messy handwriting on a strip of tape slapped across the front.

as angus young’s guitar starts to echo from the stereo, you slowly melt back into the seat, adjusting until you’ve found a comfortable spot. 

you begin to drift off again, fading in and out of consciousness as the tapes change ever so often: metallica, black sabbath, and, when led zeppelin starts to play again, you can just envision sam’s beautiful eyes rolling.

eventually, you rouse awake to the low hum of some billy idol track, the volume way lower now that the car clock signals 3:31am. 

you can hear the crinkle of a bag of chips sam is snacking on, dean’s fingers tapping to the beat of the music, and the rumble of baby underneath you. 

you’re about to force yourself into more sleep, moving to cover your forearms with your hands to keep them warm, when sam’s soft voice lulls in the silence. 

“do you think she’s cold?” he mumbles quietly, and you see, from your low hooded eyes, his head moves just slightly behind the headrest to examine your figure.

he’s right to question it. the temperature is becoming more frigid as the night blooms darker, and you’re sure the goosebumps on your arms are visible if he looks hard enough. 

“it’s warm in the car,” dean responds, turning onto a backroad. the car is swallowed in darkness as the streetlamps fade into haunting trees stretching into miles of forest surrounding you. 

sam’s tongue pokes his cheek in thought, and without prompt, he’s shrugging the brown carhartt off his body, turning in his seat—you’ve told him to start wearing a seatbelt—and delicately draping the warm material across your shivering shoulders. 

a blanket of musk, campfire smoke, and something only described as sam winchester envelops you.

you shut your eyes quickly so he won't suspect you’re awake, but that means trying your damnedest to bite back the smile fighting its way onto your lips at the gesture. you snuggle deeper into the jacket to hide the bottom of your face while pretending to be asleep. 

peeking through your eyelashes, you see sam not bothering to hide his own smile at the sight of you nestled under his jacket. your heart picks up.  

he re-rights himself in his seat, clearing his throat as he focuses on the road ahead again. 

“real smooth, there, romeo.” dean smirks, giving him a knowing nod.  

“shut up,” sam shakes his head, picking nervously at a loose thread in his jeans, “she looked cold.” 

“oh, did she tell you that, huh?” dean teases again, shoving his shoulder playfully. 

sam moves away from his brother’s provoking hand, “eyes on the road, jerk.” 

“bitch,” dean scoffs, but you know the grin is there: real and genuine, “just tell her you love her so i can stop watching these mixed signals.” 

your stomach twists. 

“dean, i don’t—” sam trips over his words, bringing a hand down his blushing face, “i just gave her a jacket in under 30-degree weather—”

“—and patched her up for over an hour after that werewolf got its claws in her, and walked her back to room when she drank too much, and freaked out when that guy tried picking her up at that bar in minna—” 

“that’s called being a gentleman,” sam narrows his eyes, growing more defensive, “and we both freaked out, so don’t try to—” 

“i freaked out because the guy looked like a creep, you freaked out because somebody—anybody’s—hands were on her,” dean moves to take a sip of his melted slurpee from dinner, “there’s a difference, sammy.” 

the things dean mentions start flooding back into your memory, the gestures at the time seeming so innocent, no possible way for there to be any underlying connotation if you hadn’t thought about it hard enough.

until now, when you’re thinking about it hard enough. 

the way sam’s hands shook just slightly as they expertly stitched the gash on your leg, and how his eyes held something else under the concentrated look; a glimmer of worry, fear, even, at the idea that you were hurt. 

then, how those hands, no longer shaky, gripped your waist tight to keep you on your feet as you stumbled back to the motel room from the bar one night. you were trashed, the hunt a particularly hard one, yet, he didn’t let you fall. tucked you in and everything. 

you had no idea about the last one, of the gross drifter trying to get lucky with you. no clue that it’d bothered him—both of them—but, especially sam in that way. not until now. 

and suddenly, they all make sense. 

“whatever, dean,” sam says, his words lower than a whisper, like a child who's just been scolded, “it’s never been that way with us.” 

“it can be,” dean argues, “‘think i don’t notice the way she acts toward you, too?” 

 sam laughs mirthlessly, like a light breath escaping past his lips, “drop it, already.” 

“i’m being serious!” dean’s voice picks up just slightly, eliciting a “shhh!” from sam as he nods his head toward your ‘sleeping’ figure. 

he quiets, “i’m being serious, you’re both idiots.” 

well, he isn’t wrong about that. 

maybe you had been looking at sam a certain way. with a twinkle in your eye you can’t control. a giddiness you only show when he’s around. the laugh that bursts through your chest at his jokes.

the gentle hand you placed on his, shaky and tactful, as it took care of you that night. 

and the expression that met yours when you did so. 

you see it flash the back of your eyelids as they flutter against the moon’s glow through the window. you melt further into the smell of him at the memory, wishing it was his arms around you instead. that he wasn’t so far away in the front seat. 

“she’s good for you,” dean adds in the moment of silence, “and damn, is she beautiful.” 

sam lets the corner of his lips curl into a gentle smile, the thought of you filling his head, of every moment where maybe he didn’t think hard enough either, “yeah,” he whispers softly, “yeah, she is, isn’t she?”

he looks back to you, lets himself take in the image of you underneath something of his keeping you warm, safe. 

something in him bursts. 

fuck, he loves you. 

and, you think you love him, too.

dean’s music fades as you nod off for the last time till you make it to the motel. the impala shifts into park, and the engine growl is sharply cut. you groan as you’re awoken, stretching out your limbs as you yawn loudly. 

sam opens the door on your side, peeking his head under the hood, “good morning, sleepyhead.” 

you yawn a response, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. instantly, once your vision un-blurs, your chest clenches at the conversation overheard a mere few hours before. you can’t help the deer in headlights stare as you look up at sam’s gentle features, smiling softly at you. 

and he has no idea what you heard.

he sticks his large hand out for you to take as you step out on wobbly legs. you refuse to let go of his jacket as it stays hanging on your shoulders. 

yeah, you think, i love him.

[noctiva]

Pleaseeee NSFW alphabetssss PLEASEEEE

okay! don’t gotta twist my arm!

-

Toby Rogers | NSFW Alphabet

-

CW: 18+ content, explicit sexual content (duh), masochism + sadism, mentions of unsafe sex, degradation, mentions of BDSM kinkplay, mentions of a blood kink!, blood and injury, very minute mention of murder lol

-

NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

-

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

The KING of aftercare.

You’ll read about this more later, but Toby can get kind of mean in the bedroom lols - but he’s aware of that.

BUT he’s also not an actual asshole, so he WILL be making sure that you’re completely happy afterwords and that he didn’t go too far.

He’ll clean and patch up any wound he might’ve left on you, and place a kiss over the bandages when he’s done.

He’ll feed you water while he pets your hair, murmuring in your ear how beautiful you looked and how well you did for him.

Massage your sore muscles until he can feel them relaxing under his touch.

When he can see the fog clear from your eyes, he’s asking you if there was anything you didn’t like, anything you’d want him to change

And then he’s snuggling up next to your side and pulling you in close, nuzzling into your hair as his whispers out more and more sweet praises

(PS. If he’s subbing, you’re gonna have to do the same for him. His low self esteem leads to pretty bad subdrop if you were even the slightest bit mean, so you’ve got to pamper him afterward)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His self-esteem is shot so he really doesn’t have a favourite body part on himself tbh :(

If he had to pick, he’d say his hair - because he got the colour from his mom, and it almost feels like he’s carrying around a piece of her because of it.

But if you say that doesn’t count then… Probably his arms. Pretty strong and toned from swinging his hatchets around all day, and they let him effortlessly pick you up <3

On his partner, it’s either thighs or lips. Loves sucking and biting at your lips until they’re red and raw, and leaving hickeys up and down your thighs might just be his favourite pass time.

(If you’re a woman though, your tits are HIGH on the list too)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He is always going to want to cum inside you. If you don’t like that, or aren’t on the pill - expect him to be a big sulky baby about it.

It’s the intimacy of it, the possession - marking you as his in a way no one else can.

And when he pulls out, he’s using two fingers to scoop up anything that dribbles out of you and fingerfucks it straight back into you.

He’s got no shame either, so he might just crawl between your thighs again and lick you clean instead.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’s thought about killing you while fucking you before.

He’d never ever ACTUALLY DO IT, but he is a serial killer dude, so the thought’s definitely crossed his mind. especially when he gets his fingers wrapped around that pretty throat of yours - wondering to himself what shade of blue you’d turn if he just… didn’t stop.

He will never admit this to you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I expect to be crucified for this - I do not think Toby is a snivelling virgin. I will die on this hill.

I THINK that becoming a proxy gave him a stupid confidence boost, and the perfect chance to fulfil everything he missed out on prior.

He’s a bit of a slut, actually. so needless to say, he knows what he’s doing.

And yet…. He still manages to be pathetic about it. Just a drooling mess of grunts and groans, with hands that are always grabbing just a liiiiittle too tight.

Will literally cum in his pants just from some dry humping. Lowkey if he told you he was a virgin it would be super believable. He’s a mess. Gets too excited because he never dreamed he’d actually get laid, so now that he is he’s just a shaking mess of desire whenever it happens.

But! He’s a quick learner too! Once he finds your g-spot he’s mentally bookmarking it and abusing it until you’re a mess of drool and tears. Will roam your entire body just to figure out where your most sensitive places are, cataloguing each and every one of them.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Reference this post for more deets lol

But honestly he isn’t picky when it comes to positions, he’s down for anything - even the wildest shit if you suggest it to him.

He just wants to be inside you, so as long as that’s part of the equation he really won’t have any complaints

(BTW! He WILL bottom. He has just necer really considered it before - toxic masculinity blah blah blah - but if you suggest it he will definitely try it. He won’t be able to get the idea out of his head until he learns for himself what it feels like)

(He doessss like seeing your face though. Loves that fucked out, hazy look you get in your eyes)

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Hmmmmm this is kinda tough

Toby’s not really serious per se, but he does get into a sort of headspace when he’s fucking you.

One that loves to tease you, loves to say the meanest things in the sweetest tone possible

Goofy? I’m gonna say no. Mocking and cruel? That’s gonna get a yes.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I’ve mentioned this before, he does not give a flying FUCK about hair - for both you and him.

If you ask him to trim a little, he will, but never ever expect him to go clean shaven. And his happy trail is NOT GOING ANYWHERE.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

HE IS A LOVERBOYYYYYYY

He will probably say ‘I love you’ over a million times while he’s deep up in it. He’s heart eyes practically the entire time, showering you with praise over and over again - especially if he’s being particularly rough.

“Y-You’re so good for me - fuck - you’re perfect.”

“What did I do t-to deserve you?”

He didn’t get a whole lot of love growing up, so finally being on the receiving end of it feels like a dream. Turns into a mushy puddle of goo if you moan out how much you love him back.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Reference my headcanons about this topic for a more in depth analysis lol

But, he’s a gooner.

His sex drive is HIGH, regardless of if he’s in a relationship or not.

If he’s not, he’s rubbing one out at least three times a day. If he is, he’d much rather have you, but if you’re not available for some reason - he’s jacking it to the thought of you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He’s got a few!

Sadist - I feel like I’ve said this a million times by now, but his inability to feel pain really drives a morbid fascination towards inflicting it on others just to see the reactions.

Also a masochist? - I put a question mark because it’s like, he can’t feel the pain, but he loves it if you’re just as rough on him as he is on you. Pull his hair hard enough for his scalp to throb, claw at his back until he bleeds, give him a few bites to match yours. Toby is big on intense sensation. His desire is all consuming, so he loves to see you try and devour him right back.

Dacryphilia - This one pairs with his sadistic nature. Loves to see you cry. Thinks it’s when you look the prettiest; eyes all red and puffy with tears clinging to your lashes.

Blood - Yeah. He likes biting you hard enough to bleed, then lapping at the wound and shivering from the sweet taste of your blood. Just the sight of it alone really gets him going. He won’t shower after going on a hunt just so that he can leave crimson handprints against your unblemished skin.

Salirophilia - This one pairs with his blood kink. He just loves getting you dirty. Ruining how pure and perfect you look compared to him. He wants you to be an absolute mess by the end of it all - panting and trembling while covered in a mixture of spit, cum, blood, and tears.

Praise - Pretty please just tell him how good he’s doing, he will fold like a lawn chair. Tell him how much you love him, how good he makes you feel, how full he gets you, and he’s going to struggle not to cum on the spot.

Body worship - Remember how I said he’s got low self-esteem? That’s where this comes in. Kisses all across his skin, your soft voice murmuring about how beautiful you think he is, all your favourite parts of him. He will struggle to function. This will get him the subbiest. He’ll be reduced to a blushing mess of whimpers that can barely even look you in the eye because he’s so flustered.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere he shouldn’t LOL.

He’s a WEE BIT of an exhibitionist, so doing it anywhere he could easily get caught reallyyyy gets his blood pumping.

Tugged off into a deserted alleyway, some random gas station bathroom, in the kitchen if you have roommates - he is a nasty fuck.

It’s his possessiveness coming into play. He actually could care less if someone walks in on you two - ACTUALLY, he encourages it. Let everyone know who you belong to :)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Um, anything and everything?

Lols I kid, but I’m also not. He is like, perpetually horny. Turning him on is as easy as flicking on a light switch.

He reallyyyyyy likes watching you when you’re super focused on something though. Think, driving, cooking, working on a hobby of yours.

It’s that look of concentration and that cute little furrow in your brow. It is very difficult to get work done around him because he’ll be pawing at you like a bitch in heat just because he’s spent the last 30 minutes watching you work.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Please, for the love of god, don’t call him ‘daddy’

His dick is going limp in five seconds flat if you ever try it. It’s quite literally the opposite of sexy to him.

Also, no face slapping. He can be mean in a lot of other regards but this is where he draws the line.

Physically can’t bring himself to do it, and if you really try to convince him it’s just going to end up pissing him off.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He is a giver through and though!!

He loves getting head just as much as the next guy, but his favourite thing in the world is getting to watch his partner crumple to pieces just from his mouth alone.

For women - he will be down there until you quite literally have to beg him to stop. Going until his jaw locks up type beat. It’ll be a little personal game for him to see just how many times he can make you cum before he even slips a finger in. They type to go into the relationship with brunette stubble and then it’s pussy bleached blonde after only a few weeks.

He’s like the king of foreplay. He genuinely cannot fuck you without getting a taste of you first. Making you cum two, three times before he even gets inside you.

Also a big fan of face sitting. Having his head squished between your thighs with your cunt right up in his face is quite literally his version of heaven.

For men - his gag reflex fucking sucks LOL but that’s not going to stop him from trying! In fact, he’s not going to be content until he trains himself to take your whole cock, because watching that whole body shudder you get when you slide down his throat is just exquisite.

You would quite literally never have to ask him to, he’s just dropping to his knees whenever he gets the urge (which is often).

His oral fixation ass would just be content with you letting him lazily mouth at your cock while you both watch a movie or something.

Big fan of you cumming on his face too. He likes when things get messy.

I also wouldn’t put it past him to eat ass lol. Anything to get his partner squirming and whining on the bed below him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

You’ll read about this more in a second, but his stamina is whacked, so the pace depends on what round y’all are on LMAO

He’ll usually start off nice and slow though, just to get you warmed up. Languid, deep strokes, nuzzling into your neck as his hands roam your body.

He always gets rougher as time goes on though. He’s just erratic by nature so it’s a little difficult to keep himself in check. Whole bed moving from the force of his thrusts type guy.

Absolutely bruising grip on your hips as he fucks you like a damn animal, his whole body curled over yours as he pants and grunts into your ear.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s got a love-hate relationship with them.

Loves them, because he’ll jump at any chance to get himself buried in you (andddd he loves cumming in you then tugging your underwear back into place so that you have to walk around with his spend dripping out of you)

But he always wishes it could last longer. It’s just never enough with you (un)fortunately.

It’ll definitely put a spring in his step for the rest of the day, but he’ll probably still be pouncing on you later that night to finish what he started.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes. Anything that’s not listed in the ‘no’ section he’ll probably be game to try if you bat your pretty eyelashes at him.

He just love love LOVESSS to get you messy so honestly there;s not a whole lot that you could suggest that he would turn his nose up at. (Word of wisdom: suggest bondage, he’ll never know how much he loves tying you up until he actually gets to do it)

Risks: also yes. I already mentioned that he’s got an exhibitionism streak going on and it’s the risk that really gets him going when it comes to that. Loves to feel like he’s doing something he shouldn’t. Gets off on the idea that he’s doing something really dirty.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Freakishly high stamina. You will not outlast him, so do not even try.

How quick he cums depends on if he’s letting himself be a little more subby or not. If he is, and he’s got you kissing up and down his body while showering him with praises - he’s busting FAST LMAO

But regardless, he can go for as many rounds as you want. Soreness and achy muscles don’t exist for him, so if you want to go all night then he’s all for it!

(But expect to hear him complain about feeling like he got hit by a truck the next day)

He’s also got a good refractory time ;) Give him like, five minutes of eating pussy and he’s hard again.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Probably doesn’t own any for himself, except for maybe like… a warming lube. He’ll use it to jack off because it heightens the sensation even more.

For you though, he’ll probably only introduce them into the bedroom if you suggest it.

His ego is fragile, so at first he’ll pull the whole ‘oh, am I not giving it to you good enough?’ BUTTTT when you explain it to him and get him on the same wavelength he’ll be down.

Loves using vibrators on you. You’ll see why in the letter below.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s actually not the worst surprisingly!

He really just likes watching you cum, so he’s not one to tease you horribly or edge you. He just wants to watch you crumble.

Where he gets unfair is that he will totally overstim you. 100%. Giving you more and more to the point where you’re shaking and whimpering beneath him.

“I-I know, baby, I know it’s t-too much. You should see how pretty you look right now though.”

“Just one m-more? For me?” (‘one’ actually means two to three more)

He’s also more teasing (or mocking? I guess) in his words more than his actions.

He will be degrading you. Will be telling you how pathetic you look, how much of a slut you are as you choke on his cock.

Anything to get those tears building faster.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

LOUD. VERY.

If he’s not letting out absolutely whorish grunts and groans then he’s babbling on and on about the absolute nastiest shit imaginable.

“Hah- l-look how wet you are.. Fuckin’ soaking my cock.”

He likes it when you’re loud too though! Lets him know he’s doing a good job! If you try to stifle your moans it’ll lowkey irritate him.

He wants to hear you. Hear how your voice cracks when you get closer and closer to your peak. How your words slur together and your moans get higher in pitch when he hits just the right spot.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He likes to fuck in front of mirrors.

Likes to see everyyyything that’s going on. How your eyes roll back when he hits it from behind, how your skin ripples when you bounce on his lap - he loves it.

Will totally force your head up so that you get to see how pathetic you look when he’s fucking you to pieces :)

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Packing!

He’s a tall scrawny white boy this is simply the way of life.

I’m gonna give him a solid 6.5, not insanely girthy but enough to really feel the stretch.

Curves to the left just a little, and flushes a pretty shade of pink at the tip when he’s hard. I’m gonna say he’s got a couple moles and freckles down there too.

Undecided if he’d actually keep them or not, but I would like to say he pierced his own nipples on a whim.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I mentioned this already in the letter ‘J’, but high lol. Very high.

Unable to feel pain, Toby feels pretty numb to the world on a day to day basis - so pleasure is the one thing that cuts through that all.

Dude LOVES sex because of this. Really makes him feel… Human, again, I guess? It’s the one intense sensation he can actually feel, so he is lowkey (highkey) obsessed with it. Definitely hypersexual.

If you’re in the mood, there is a 99.9% chance he is too. It takes literally the lowest effort possible to get him riled up. He’ll get horny just from watching you brush your hair in the morning LMAO

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s not falling asleep until you do first, even if he’s dead tired.

Mentioned alllllll the way at the start, he’s big on aftercare, so he wants to make sure that you’re happy and content before he even thinks about dozing off.

He’ll rub your back and play with your hair, snuggling you up against his chest to let the sound of his heartbeat lull you to sleep.

But once he’s 100% sure you’re asleep he is conking TF out. Finally letting all of the fatigue catch up to him as his body goes limp against yours.

(And he sleeps like a fucking log. So good luck trying to wriggle out of his grasp if you need a glass of water in the middle of the night.)

[bellatrixscurls]

group activities

pairing : fem reader x slytherin gang x golden trio.

warnings : SMUT (in the next chapter), tom can read minds, female reader, reader is a virgin, they’re all infatuated with her, ron and draco are really touchy with each other, reader is a pureblood and a rosier, but no physical characteristics are included.

a/n : please let me know if you enjoyed this, it motivates me to write more and faster. also, i really wanted to include smut in this part, but i didn’t want to rush it and make it bad. love 🤍

────── ☾ ──────

“you don’t look too good” a deep, low voice said from behind you, and you immediately turned to see its owner. not that it was needed.

you hummed, incredulous. “nice to see you too, draco.”

he only laughed at your dismissive attitude and sat down next to you. his eyes scanned the paper you were almost ripping into, and he searched for your gaze, silently asking you to let him look at it. “what kind of idiot would even take muggle studies? it’s optional” he nodded slowly, making you feel even dumber. “you don’t have to take it.”

huffing, you took the paper back and tried your best to ignore him, as if that would make him go away.

“okay, sorry” he mumbled, scratching the tip of his pen against a plain piece of paper, his eyes avoiding yours. “i just. i would’ve never taken it. ever. and take that from someone who’s good at every subject.”

and that made you finally snap. “okay, you’re so good at everything! congrats on that, dimwit!” you spat at him, rolling your eyes as you felt your blood boil. “you think i’d actually take this class on my own accord?! think again.”

draco fell silent at that. you were right, you were a pureblood after all. and your family would go crazy if they found out about you taking this class. so that only left him one option - his eyes lit up. “you like a mudblood” he said with disgust, making a face that you were so familiar with already.

and you wanted to lie to him and tell him it’s not true, but your cheeks reddened and you tried to hide it with your hair, but it was no use. draco knew you like the back of his hand. “oh, merlin!” he stood up from the chair, mouth open wide, but instinctively curling into a scowl when madam pince shushed him.

“which one is it? is it riddle, please say no” “no, draco… why would i even take muggle studies for him? he despises muggle-borns. he doesn’t even like his own grandmother since she’s the reason he’s a halfblood.”

draco made a realisation sound, but his eyebrows furrowed. “you know an awful lot about this guy.”

“i only spend like half of my time with you lot. and mind you, the other half i’m sleeping.”

your words didn’t do anything to him, though. only made him fall deeper into thoughts. why was he comfortable enough with you so that he could be himself, yet you weren’t?

you looked up at him curiously, noticing his nails tugging at the thin skin on his knuckles, and you couldn’t help but place your hand over his, that causing draco to look up at you as well. “what?”

he was visibly more relaxed under your touch, but you could tell that he didn’t expect it. you were not too touchy, especially with him. “do you wanna go back to the common room? you look tired.”

but he shook his head, dragging his chair even closer to yours. “no. no, i’m just fine” he whispered whilst trying his best not to yawn.

you smiled to yourself. he was a cutie when he wanted to be. or when he wasn’t trying so hard to make other people feel bad. “i’ll go with you. i’m done here anyway. i think i’ll try to get help from an actual muggle-born.”

he didn’t really let it show, but he was grateful. either you did it because you were tired too, or for him, he was more than content when you took his hand and dragged him behind you back to the common room.

🤍

yet when you arrived to the common room, with draco basically glued to your side, you almost prayed that it would be quiet. it was anything but that.

loud chatter could be heard all the way down the hallway, and as you whispered the password, you could even distinguish the voices.

“oh, look who’s here!” lorenzo basically threw himself at you two, kissing your cheek and squeezing draco closer to him. yet, he only let go of you, keeping the younger boy wrapped around his body.

you took the opportunity and plopped down on the sofa next to a visibly tired theo. he shot you a lazy smile which you returned, your hands resting on the back of the sofa. “i’m fucking tired.”

“poor baby. you stayed late studying again?” blaise cooed at you and your brows shot up hearing his voice, not even aware of his presence until then.

you whined quietly, your eyes closing for a mere moment. “yeah. i think i might need hermione’s help though. i don’t think i’ll be able to do it on my own anytime soon.”

“granger’s help?” theo seemed more awake now, and your words made even tom put his book away. “what for? i’m sure it’s nothing draco couldn’t help you with.”

draco hummed softly from beside you, head resting against enzo’s chest as he looked just about three seconds away from falling asleep. “she’s taking muggle studies.”

you gave him a dirty look that you’re not sure he even caught, judging by his eyes being more than 80% closed by then.

though, around you, strings of questions followed. “oh, dolcezza, what for?” theo was the first one to ask, a gentle smile on his face.

to be fair, you weren’t sure why. you just found yourself wanting to know more about muggle-borns. you were concerned about their abilities. of course, other reasons ensued.

you sighed. “i’m just really curious. how can a muggle do magic? how can some of them be even better at it than us?” you paused, opening your eyes to look at them. “do you ever think about that?”

“i always thought that they’re not really muggle-borns. just adopted by clueless muggles” mattheo shrugged, taking a drag from his joint.

tom looked at his brother with something that you could only call disdain, before he looked at you, your eyes locking. “distant ancestors is my humble guess” his tone had a bite to it, but you knew it wasn’t directed at you.

maintaining eye contact, you felt as if he was eating you alive with just his eyes, gaze so intense that it made your knees give out. “that’s what the books say” you agreed, slightly startled when theo’s head dropped on your lap, your fingers almost instinctively going to play with his soft curls, the boy humming with appreciation.

you smiled down at him. “what do you say, teddy?”

“whatever you wanna do is fine by me, amorina” he replied a bit too quickly, his long, slender fingers rubbing at your knee.

that made you snicker, and you relax against the sofa, closing your eyes again. you didn’t hear much after that as you drifted off. but you surely remembered someone’s arms wrapping around you and carrying you to your prefect dorm.

🤍

you woke up with a headache the next day, and your owl delivered a letter - oh no. you wanted to postpone opening it, but you had no chance as it opened on its own, your mother’s high pitched, obnoxious voice ringing in your ears.

“y/n rosier! how dare you embarrass us this way??! taking muggle studies?! might as well put a knife in my heart. i don’t care about extra points, as long as you’re risking all of our lives - if the dark lord is made aware of this nonsense, he’ll have our throats! if you put another toe out of line, we’ll bring you STRAIGHT HOME!”

sighing, you ripped the parchment into pieces and threw your bag over your shoulder. you knew it was coming, you just didn’t know who told them.

walking down the stairs, you were met with a pair of curious eyes - they probably heard it all. how could they not?

“what was that about?” a confused blaise came to stand beside you, placing a hand at the small of your back as he walked with you out of the common room.

“my mother” you looked straight ahead as you walked, an unreadable expression on your face. “I have to drop muggle studies or the dark lord will have our throats.”

blaise chuckled lowly and squeezed you closer to his side, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “didn’t you expect that? i mean, we’re friends with his sons, of course they’d tell him.”

“you think so? i thought matt hated him” you said confusedly. mattheo did hate him, but his evil twin was a spitting image of his father.

your mouth opened in realisation. that bastard.

“listen… i love tom, but i don’t always trust him” he explained quietly, his face inching closer to yours as if he was afraid tom would actually hear him. “he’s a lot smarter than i think possible. and we all know that he’s always trying to please his father.”

that left you deep in thought. you had known tom for years, but you never thought he’d turn you in.

arriving to your first class of the day, potions, blaise left your side and went to sit at the table in front of you. funnily enough? tom was sitting just behind you.

“you’ll be paired up today as this is quite a difficult task and i’m not sure all of you can manage” professor slughorn eyed adrian pucey and you giggled quietly, blaise turning to you to shoot you a devilish grin.

dismissing you both with a hand waving in the air, slughorn continued. “alright, if miss rosier and mister zabini will allow me, i’ll start reading” he eyed you rather playfully and you gave a curt nod.

“mister zabini and mister pucey,” you could see blaise’s fall even from the side, as he gathered his things and went to sit with adrian, but not before shaking his head at you. “mister weasley and mister malfoy,” and your head snapped, your eyes widening when you finally heard your name, “mister riddle and miss rosier.”

you froze on the spot, unable to move as you heard shuffling from behind you, and soon after, tom was neatly placing his cauldrons on your table. “morning” his voice was soft but firm.

“morning” unlike your own, which was rather shaky. “did you hear what kind of potion we have to make? i-i wasn’t paying attention.”

he could see the blush creeping up your neck, his eyes observing every little detail - as always. “I didn’t tell father about you.”

you choked on air, tom having to pat you on the back, a foreign glint in his eyes. and once you finally relaxed, your throat rough, you asked. “how do you know that?”

“i read blaise’s mind” he shrugged as if it was nothing.

mouth agape, you stared at him like he’d grown two heads. and when you didn’t speak, he continued. “see weasley and malfoy there” he pointed to them and you nodded. “he’s thinking about screwing him. malfoy.”

“draco?!” you almost yelled and half of the class turned to look at you, which earned you a disappointing head shake from tom.

“yes, draco” he whispered nonchalantly, and his face fell. “they’re screwing more than any of us. they even do it in broom closets and if you catch draco drinking more than two butterbeers, he’ll tell you all about it.”

you nodded once, twice… and your brows furrowed. “any of you? who are you screwing?”

“our group. plus the golden trio, but i’m not big on that. it’s casual, not to them apparently” he nodded toward ron and draco again, and you sighed, still very much confused.

“why… why am i not a part of that?”

tom looked down and you could swear it was the first time he actually hesitated. “draco started all of this. i’m not… i’m not sure why.”

“bullshit” you spat, turning your face away from him. it actually made you feel bad. why did they not include you?

just as tom was about to speak again, probably come up with some lame excuse, you raised your hand, feigning stomach ache. “may i please be excused, professor? i don’t feel so good.”

and obviously, crazy scared about these things, slughorn let you go, and you felt tom’s burning gaze on your back as you left.

you decided that you didn’t want to see any of them that day. maybe the next day too. and the days after that.

you felt deeply hurt. not just because of the physical things you were missing on, but because they were your friends, and you were the only one being excluded from their activities.

sitting alone on the great hall, your mind started to wander. it wandered to all those times theo would disappear right before dinner and come back disheveled, when hermione would leave your study sessions early, when enzo and mattheo would feign being sick whilst the rest of you went to hogsmeade.

and your conclusion? none of them found you attractive. not a single person. you had had problems with the way you looked, as one does, but they were never this serious.

never to the point that you could physically feel the hole in your heart.

putting an end to your thoughts, the bell rang and students started making their way to the great hall. it was already lunch time.

you contemplated leaving, as you could already hear some of your friends nearby, but instead, you sat a few seats down from your usual spot, adrian pucey claiming the sit next to you.

“i must say i didn’t expect this, but i’m not mad” he chuckled as he started cutting into his meat, eyeing you curiously.

you tried to put on a smile, as insincere as it was due to your state. “i could use a change of scenery… what about your match against gryffindor on saturday? tell me about that.”

his eyes lit up instantly, and you thanked merlin for it. he would blabber and never shut up about it, so he couldn’t ask any more questions about your unusual behaviour. “so, we’re gonna beat those dimwits up. i don’t care what it takes-”

“yeah, shut up, pucey” you were startled and pulled out of your daydreaming by mattheo’s rough voice. looking up at him, you could see his eyes turning red with anger, and he took your hand in his.

he was so gentle even though he looked about ready to jump adrian. you stood up and held him close to you. without another word, he shot adrian a dirty look and led you out of the great hall and back to the slytherin common room.

the walk there was quiet, yet you could feel how tense he was. his hand on yours, even if gentle, was stiff. his shoulders were tense and it almost looked like he refused to blink.

you didn’t dare speak a word to him as he led you inside, the common room much too crowded at this time - dinner time, more specifically.

but the people there were not just random people.

“what is this?” you asked meekly, feeling too exposed as all of their eyes were on you.

they all looked at you with different kinds of expressions. draco looked angry, whilst ron, leaning back against his chest, was more excited than ever. blaise had a stern look on his face, and theo, enzo, tom, hermione and harry just looked thrilled to be there.

when none of them answered, mattheo spoke up. “my brother here is an idiot.”

“say something new” draco scoffed and blaise elbowed him in the ribs, the blond looking down as mattheo glared at him.

he turned back to you, his thumbs rubbing your knuckles as he looked down at you. “sweetheart, we didn’t include you because…” he sighed and you gulped, not feeling ready for the refusal. “because we know that you’re a virgin.”

you gasped, trying to push him away with your hands, but he tugged you closer to him, his hands wrapping around your smaller frame. “this is bullshit, i don’t care-!”

“okay, okay!” theo interrupted you and all of you looked at him, your brows rising. “we thought that even if you agreed to it… we didn’t- fuck! we couldn’t accept that, when you had to pick one of us to be your first, the others would just have to- live with it.”

you froze for what felt like the hundredth time today - they didn’t find you unattractive. they wanted you more than you could begin to think of.

────── ☾ ──────

[gilbertscurls]

live from tour: the simp — chris sturniolo

“Alright, next question!” Matt grinned as he leaned into the mic, scanning the crowd of eager fans seated for the VIP soundcheck. The venue echoed with soft murmurs and squeals, the faint thrum of pre-show excitement buzzing in the air.

Nick leaned back in his chair, balancing the mic lazily on his knee like a seasoned rockstar, while Chris sat between them, practically bouncing in his seat.

"Hi!" A girl from the second row stood up. "This one's for all three of you—what's your favorite thing to do on your days off during tour?"

Matt nodded like it was a solid question. “I like finding weird thrift shops in random cities,” he said. “Like, if it looks like it might have been haunted in the 1970s, I’m going in.”

"Yeah," Nick agreed, “and I usually end up buying some really questionable vintage jacket that I think looks cool but makes me look like a ‘70s magician.”

Chris raised his mic, smile already tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Well, personally…” he began, stretching the word out like he was savoring it, “my favorite thing to do is FaceTime Y/N.”

A few people in the crowd let out soft “awwws” while Matt’s head whipped toward him like a bird spotting a snack.

Nick squinted. “You mean to tell me we’ve been in Chicago for 24 hours, surrounded by Chicago-style pizza and majestic old buildings, and your highlight was a FaceTime call?”

Chris didn’t even blink. “She showed me her cat in a little sweater. It was life-changing.”

Matt snorted, barely holding back a laugh. “You’re down cat bad.”

The fans cracked up as Chris waved him off, though the blush spreading across his face betrayed him.

“No, no, wait,” Nick leaned forward, feigning seriousness. “You mean the same Y/N who called during dinner last night and Chris answered on speakerphone in the middle of the restaurant like we weren’t actively being stared at by half the staff?”

“She had an emergency!” Chris defended.

“What was the emergency again?” Matt asked, smirking.

“She couldn’t remember if she liked blueberries or blackberries better.”

“Oh, crucial life moment,” Nick deadpanned. “We’re lucky you saved her.”

The crowd erupted with laughter again, and Chris held his mic up like a shield. “You guys don’t understand, okay? Y/N is funny and smart and—”

“—and clearly holding you hostage,” Matt interrupted.

Nick leaned toward the crowd conspiratorially. “Blink twice if you’re okay, Chris.”

Chris rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the grin on his face. “You’re all just jealous you don’t have someone who sends you memes that are actually funny.”

“Oh, I see,” Matt said. “So when you were laughing uncontrollably in the back lounge yesterday and said it was ‘a podcast moment,’ that was actually a Y/N meme?”

“I plead the fifth,” Chris mumbled into his mic.

Nick leaned back, fake-exasperated. “Man’s in his Lover Era and dragging us all into the montage.”

“She’s got him in a chokehold,” Matt added, miming it dramatically.

Chris folded his arms. “You know what? I hope Y/N sees this clip. She deserves to know how bullied I am.”

Matt turned to the crowd. “Someone please record this and send it to her. Title it: ‘Chris Can’t Go Five Minutes Without Saying Y/N.’”

“Oh, that should’ve been the tour name!” Nick gasped.

“The Y/N World Domination Tour,” Matt declared, pointing at the invisible marquee. “Starring: Chris and the two bitter side characters.”

Chris shook his head, but his smile gave him away. “Whatever, keep laughing. At least I have someone who’ll make me banana bread when I get home.”

“Okay, now that’s unfair,” Matt muttered. “No one’s ever made me banana bread.”

“I’ve never even touched a banana that wasn’t a smoothie,” Nick added, scandalized.

The girl who’d asked the question was still standing, beaming, as Chris finally looked back at her and said, “So yeah. On our days off, I hang out with Y/N. It’s the best part of my day. Sorry, not sorry.”

Nick turned his mic toward her. “We regret to inform you the question was hijacked.”

“Please direct all further inquiries to Y/N, since clearly she’s the fourth Sturniolo Triplet now,” Matt added, pretending to scoot his chair over to make room.

Chris gave a little bow. “She says thank you.”

The crowd roared. Somewhere, probably already recording a reaction TikTok to this moment, Y/N was laughing her head off—knowing full well that no matter how far Chris traveled or how loud the fans screamed, she was still the main character in his mind.

And, to be fair, she did send some pretty elite memes.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @shadowthesim237, @courta13, @frankdelreyy, @evansturn, @bamsblooming, @backwardshatnick

[formulaonecrumbs]

thirteen days and my thirteenth reason ✍️

Lando Norris x depressed!reader

summary: she’s drowning under exam pressure, but lando stays beside her through it all.

warnings: established relationship, depression, burnout, academic pressure, comfort

A/N: this is the most self-indulgent fic i have EVER written. it’s based off my exact situation so if it seems specific uhhh that’s why. i literally only have 12 days till these exams start (most imp of my life i think) and i haven’t began studying for a single subject KILL ME. ADHD paralysis is real asf 😔😔 i originally wrote this only so i’d feel motivated to actually study but it didn’t work so now i’m posting it so it doesn’t go to waste ☺️ embarrassing to say but i will be coming back to read my own fic. i need it rn 😕 anyways enjoy lovies!! ❤️

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

the curtains hadn’t been opened in three days.

the floor was a mess—scattered notebooks, a few balled-up tissues, a hoodie half-hanging off the edge of the bed. her laptop sat untouched on the desk, still open to a study schedule she’d typed up with shaky hands three weeks ago. color-coded. hopeful. delusional.

it was thirteen days until her final exams. the most important ones of her life. everyone kept saying that. like she didn’t already know. like the weight of it wasn’t the reason she could barely lift her head off the pillow.

she’d meant to start studying two weeks ago. then one week ago. then yesterday. then this morning.

and now the sun was setting again, and she’d done nothing. absolutely nothing. just stared at the ceiling and tried not to cry. or did cry. she honestly couldn’t remember. it all blurred together now—hours and hours of feeling like she was stuck underwater while the world kept going on without her.

the front door opened.

she didn’t move.

“baby?”

lando’s voice was gentle. careful. like he already knew what kind of day it had been.

he was home earlier than she expected. that or her time perception was fairly off (it was. she thought it was sunday, it was tuesday). she heard the shuffle of his sneakers being kicked off, the clink of his keys on the counter, and then quiet footsteps down the hallway. the bedroom door creaked open slowly.

there was a pause.

then the bed dipped beside her.

she didn’t look at him.

lando didn’t say anything at first. he just lay there beside her, head propped up on his hand, eyes studying her profile in the dim light. she looked so small. in a pathetic i-can-barely-hold-myself-up kind of way. like the duvet was the only thing keeping her together.

finally, he spoke. “have you eaten?”

she shook her head. barely.

“studied?”

another shake.

lando sighed softly, but not in a disappointed way. more like it physically hurt him to see her like this. like the girl he loved—his girl, the one who once made him laugh so hard he spilled water out his nose—had been replaced by this quiet, heavy version of herself who barely spoke anymore.

he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. his fingers lingered against her cheek.

“talk to me,” he whispered. “please.”

her throat tightened.

“i can’t,” she said hoarsely. “i don’t know what to say.”

“say anything.”

“i feel like a failure.”

lando’s chest ached.

she blinked up at the ceiling, eyes glassy. “i have thirteen days. and i’ve done nothing. nothing. i’m so behind. i’m going to fail. and i don’t even care. that’s the worst part. i don’t care. i should care, but i just… don’t. and then i hate myself for not caring. and then i just lie here and do nothing again.”

her voice cracked on the last word.

lando didn’t try to fix it. not yet. he didn’t offer solutions or motivation or some inspirational quote he found online.

he just reached for her hand under the covers and held it tightly.

“you’re not a failure,” he said quietly.

she shook her head, tears slipping down her temples.

“you’re not,” he said again. “you’re burnt out. you’re exhausted. you’re scared. you’re human.”

she didn’t respond. just squeezed his hand tighter.

“you don’t have to pretend with me,” he murmured. “you don’t have to be okay.”

“i’m not.”

“i know.”

they lay there for a long time. eventually, he shifted closer, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into his chest. she didn’t resist. just let herself fall into him, cheek pressed against his hoodie, fingers gripping the fabric like it might anchor her back to the world.

“i’ll help you,” he said into her hair. “we’ll figure it out. we’ll make a plan. we’ll break it into little pieces. you don’t have to do it all at once.”

she shook her head weakly. “i don’t think i can.”

“then we’ll start with something small. just one thing.”

she didn’t say anything.

“we’ll do it together,” he promised. “and if all you can do today is brush your teeth or drink some water, that’s enough. you’re enough.”

she exhaled a shaky breath.

“i’m so tired,” she whispered.

“then rest,” he said. “you’re allowed to rest.”

he didn’t leave her side. not for the rest of the night. he ordered takeout—her favorite. he brought her a glass of water and sat beside her while she drank it slowly, like every sip was a mountain climbed. he helped her brush her hair when she couldn’t lift her arms without trembling. and when she finally crawled out from under the covers to shower, he waited outside the bathroom just in case.

the next morning, he woke her with a soft kiss to her forehead and a sticky note stuck to the lamp that said:

baby steps.

she sat up.

she opened her laptop.

and for the first time in weeks, she tried.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

four days in, she was already starting to fray at the edges.

it wasn’t that she wasn’t trying. for the first time in a while she was. she’d stuck to the plan—lando’s plan, the one he’d helped her make with gentle hands and sleepy morning kisses and a color-coded spreadsheet that didn’t feel like it was out to kill her. one subject per day. built-in breaks. kind reminders written on sticky notes in his handwriting like: you’re doing amazing and five minutes of dancing > five minutes of crying.

but trying didn’t mean it was easy.

especially not tonight.

she’d been sitting at the kitchen table for two hours now, blinking at the same paragraph in her textbook without actually reading a word. her brain was buzzing, her back ached, and the weight of everything—every page she hadn’t read, every topic she didn’t understand, every second slipping by too fast—was pressing against her chest like a vice.

her eyes burned.

her fingers curled into fists in her lap.

and then, just like that, it snapped.

a single sob cracked out of her like a warning shot, and then the floodgates opened.

she pushed the textbook away with trembling hands and dropped her head onto the table, tears slipping fast and hot down her cheeks, shoulders shaking. she didn’t even try to stop it. she couldn’t. all the pressure she’d been holding in for days, weeks—it came pouring out like it had been waiting for this exact moment to break her.

“fuck,” she whispered. “fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“hey—hey, hey.”

lando’s voice was soft but immediate.

she hadn’t even heard him come in.

he crossed the room in two seconds, dropping to his knees beside her chair and cupping her face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the tears even as more fell.

“what happened?” he whispered.

she tried to talk, but it came out in a choked sob.

“breathe,” he said, gently. “deep breath. c’mon, baby. with me.”

he inhaled slow and deep. she tried to follow. couldn’t quite get there. tried again.

“that’s it. good girl. again.”

a few breaths later, her chest started to ease—just a little.

“i can’t do it,” she whispered, voice shaking. “i can’t—i don’t know anything, i’m so behind—“

“hey,” he interrupted, rubbing her arm. “no. don’t say that. you’ve been doing so well. i’ve seen you.”

“but it’s not enough—there’s too much—and i’m so tired, lando. i can’t think straight. i feel like my brain is broken—”

“it’s not,” he said immediately. “you’re not broken. you’re overwhelmed. you’re exhausted. and you’ve been pushing through it like a fucking warrior.”

she sniffled.

“you don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” he added. “not to me. not to anyone else. not even to yourself. you’re already enough, just like this.”

“but the exams—”

“will come. and we’ll face them. one question at a time. one hour at a time. but not like this. not when you’re this close to burning out.”

he pulled her into a hug—tight, grounding, real. she clung to him like a lifeline.

“you’re not alone, okay?” he murmured into her hair. “you’ve got me. always.”

they stayed like that for a while, her tears slowly soaking into the shoulder of his hoodie.

eventually, she pulled back just enough to whisper, “i’m sorry.”

he frowned. “for what?”

“for falling apart.”

“baby,” he said, brushing his nose against hers. “falling apart doesn’t scare me. not when it’s you. not when i love you.”

her lip trembled.

“you don’t have to be strong all the time,” he whispered. “sometimes being strong is letting yourself break and asking someone else to help you pick up the pieces.”

she nodded, barely.

“come on,” he said softly, standing and tugging her up with him. “no more tonight. you need rest.”

“but—”

“i’ll quiz you in the morning,” he promised. “i’ll make flashcards and everything. but right now, you need to lie down. cuddle quota’s running low.”

she cracked the tiniest smile through the tears. “that’s not a real thing.”

“sure it is,” he said, leading her to the couch and pulling a blanket over the both of them. “mandatory. doctor’s orders.”

she curled into his chest, still aching, still overwhelmed—but held. safe.

and for the first time in hours, her breathing slowed.

lando pressed a kiss to her temple. “we’ll get through it, baby. together.”

THE END :>

[cameronsbabydoll]

do we think rafe ever says sorry for how he acted towards scc!reader in their early years? like once he’s all settled and retired and actually somewhat loving and decent, does he ever apologize to her or in his own way apologize ?

yes — but it’s in his own way.

scc!rafe is the type who has never liked the taste of the word sorry on his tongue. not because he doesn’t feel it, but because he was raised in a world where apologies were weakness. where men showed they’d changed by doing, not saying.

so no — he doesn’t sit down one morning with a clean-shaven face and a coffee in hand and spill out a rehearsed “i’m sorry for all the years i treated you like a possession.”

but yes — one day, after retirement, when the house is quiet and it’s just the two of you folding laundry together and he sees you holding up a dress you used to wear back when things were… different — when he used to pick out what you wore, how you wore your hair, who you talked to — and he sees your face soften with some memory only you can feel…

he says:

“you were always good to me. better than i ever deserved.”

and that’s it. no grand speech. no list of his sins. just a quiet admission. a hand reaching for yours. a pause, a breath, the tiniest crack in the armor he wore for decades.

or maybe one day, when you’re traveling — a trip he planned just for the two of you — and you get emotional over something small, maybe overwhelmed at a restaurant or on the plane or in a hotel room, and he doesn’t snap, doesn’t tighten his jaw, doesn’t get cold or dismissive like he used to.

he just holds your hand.

brushes his thumb over your palm and says:

“y— you don’t have to be okay all the time anymore.”

and that’s an apology, too.

because he knows you were. for so long.

because of him.

[inseobts]

Hiii! Can i req an ace x f!reader where he looks all over for her like he did with BB not bc she's a traitor but bc she left the crew w/o letting anyone besides WB know (WB ain't snitching lol). She has her own problems in life but the ultimate reason for leaving was bc of self loathing issues under the tough mask and thought the love was unrequited after seeing ace with cuter girls, and that she didn't need another problem. It was onesided, but ace became aware of his own feelings after she left. He finds her as a strawhat but reader and zoro are alrdy a power couple... or so he thought ;D tysm i genuinely LOVE your works btw!!! <3

Embers Left Behind

portgas d. ace x reader

a/n: aaah I always love a really good angst with fluff!! thank you aw

words count: 5.9k

tags: angst, heartbreak, slow burn, emotional tension, sfw

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The Moby Dick rocks gently with the waves, but the stillness on board is anything but peaceful.

“Ace...”

Marco’s voice is low, but firm, almost warning in his tone.

Ace doesn’t stop pacing “Don’t start.”

“You’ve already asked him three times.”

“I’ll ask him thirty!” Ace snaps, spinning on his heel. His fists are clenched so tightly his nails dig into his palms “She wouldn’t just vanish like that. Not without saying anything.”

“She did.” Marco says, voice quiet but steady “That was her choice.”

Ace whirls, fire licking up his arms now “She told Pops and not us? Not even me?”

Marco looks away “Yeah. That’s what she actually did.”

Ace’s breath hitches. That admission stings more than he’ll let show.

He storms toward the upper deck, where Whitebeard sits in his massive chair, the sea breeze tugging at his long white hair like it respects him too much to tangle it.

“Old man.” Ace’s voice is tight. Controlled. Barely.

Whitebeard doesn’t turn “Still angry?”

“Still confused.” Ace steps closer “Why her? Why’d she tell you and not the rest of us?”

“She asked for a promise.” Whitebeard’s voice is steady as a mountain “And I gave it.”

Ace’s fire dims slightly “A promise to keep her location a secret?”

“To let her go. Without questions. Without trails.”

“Bullshit...” Ace mutters, hurt flashing in his voice “She didn’t even say goodbye.”

Whitebeard finally turns his gaze down to him “You think that didn’t hurt her too?”

Ace swallows hard. But he doesn’t respond.

Later, in the infirmary, Marco sits with a bottle between his legs, flipping the cap off with a lazy flick of his thumb.

“She left her favourite coat” he says.

Ace looks up, surprised “What?”

Marco nods toward the corner of the room where a familiar coat hangs limply on the wall, untouched “She probably forgot it in the rush of leaving.”

Ace stands slowly, walking over to it. He stares at it like it’s a corpse.

“She was hurting.” Marco doesn’t say it as a defense, just as the truth.

Ace turns toward him, brows drawn together “We’re family. She could’ve told us.”

“Maybe that’s exactly why she couldn’t.”

The crew feels the void she left, even in little things like someone instinctively calling her name during morning drills, or setting aside a plate during dinner out of habit. Thatch stops laughing as loudly. Vista sharpens his swords in silence.

And Ace? He doesn’t sleep. Not really.

He stares at the stars, thinking about every conversation you ever had, what he missed, what you were hiding, what he didn’t say.

The coat’s been hanging there for weeks. No one moves it. No one touches it. It just stays exactly where you left it, draped over the hook in the infirmary corner like it’s waiting for you to come back and grab it.

Ace stares at it again that morning.

Marco walks in, holding coffee, and stops when he sees him.

“You really gonna keep standing there, or you gonna wear it yourself?”

Ace shoots him a glare “It’s hers.”

Marco sips, watching him over the rim of his mug “Yeah. We know.”

He doesn’t make a scene about it. Just one quiet morning, a little after breakfast, he shows up on deck with a pack slung over his shoulder and your coat folded neatly in his arms.

Whitebeard watches from his throne, silent.

“Going somewhere, Ace?” Izo asks, already knowing.

Ace doesn’t look at anyone as he answers, “She forgot her coat.”

A few of the guys glance at each other. That’s the excuse? Seriously?

Haruta tilts her head “You’re gonna cross the Grand Line to return a coat?”

Ace shrugs “She loved this coat. Said she couldn’t live without it.”

It’s half a lie. Maybe less. But no one calls him out.

“You gonna tell Pops?” Vista asks.

Ace glances toward the upper deck. Whitebeard’s already looking at him. They lock eyes for a second. Whitebeard doesn’t nod. Doesn’t shake his head. Just… lets him go.

“Guess you don’t need to” Vista mutters with a smirk.

Marco sighs and tosses him an extra log pose “You’ll need this more than your pride.”

Ace catches it, barely looking “Appreciate it.”

“You gonna say what we all know?” Marco asks, voice level “That it’s not about the coat?”

Ace’s jaw tightens “No.”

Marco smirks faintly “Thought so.”

As Ace walks toward the edge of the ship, Thatch calls after him, voice light but sad around the edges “Tell her she still owes me a drink!”

“And that we miss her!” Haruta adds.

Ace doesn’t turn around, but he lifts a hand in acknowledgment.

“Tell her yourself when I find her...” he says.

And then, he’s gone.

Months passed and the sun’s dipping low when Ace finds the black sails of the Thousand Sunny sway gently at the harbor’s edge, golden light flickering across the lion-shaped prow like it’s grinning at him.

He hadn’t meant to stumble across them like this. He was chasing rumors, not names. But seeing that Straw Hat Jolly Roger gave him a reason to take a break.

“So you’re just crashing dinner?” Luffy grins, already halfway through a plate of meat.

“Not my fault I showed up right when Sanji was cooking” Ace says casually, plopping down on the deck’s edge.

The table’s full. Sanji’s setting down plates faster than they can be emptied. Nami’s sipping something citrusy, Robin’s got a book open next to her rice, and Usopp’s already knee-deep in some tall tale about a sea king. Brook plays a soft melody in the background.

“Man, I forgot how chaotic you all are” Ace laughs.

Franky flexes “SUPER chaotic!”

Chopper beams “I’m glad you stopped by!”

“Didn’t expect to find you guys here, honestly” Ace admits, glancing around “I was just passing through.”

Nami quirks an eyebrow “Passing through where, exactly?”

He shrugs “Everywhere.”

They don’t press. They know that kind of tone.

Luffy’s already asking about Whitebeard, and Ace answers between bites.

Then footsteps. Two sets. Light and even. The sound of a low laugh, a deeper voice beside it.

“—I’m just saying, if you let me sharpen your swords while drunk, it’s a disaster waiting to happen, you can't blame me after...” your voice rings out, smooth and easy.

“I didn’t really give you permission, stop lying.” Zoro answers, tone relaxed in a way that makes Ace’s stomach turn.

You step into the room first, head turned toward him, smiling “You did! You said that I—”

And then your eyes land on the table.

On him.

And everything stops.

Ace freezes with a piece of meat halfway to his mouth, hand still in the air.

You don’t breathe.

Neither does he.

Your gaze locked with his.

“Ace...” you whisper.

He stands up so suddenly his chair scrapes across the floor.

“You’re—” His voice cracks. He swallows “You’re here?”

Zoro’s already watching you. He sees the change in your expression, the sudden tightness in your grip, the way your breath hitches.

Sanji mutters, “Ohhh shit.”

You take a slow step forward, like you’re not sure if he’s real “What are you doing here?”

Ace doesn’t answer immediately. His eyes scanning you, your hair, clothes, the faint scar on your knuckle that wasn’t there before. You’re different. Still you. But heavier, somehow. Guarded.

He lifts something from the table.

Your old coat.

You hadn’t even noticed it until now.

“You forgot this” he says quietly.

And just like that, every wall you built inside your chest starts to splinter.

You stare at it “You came all this way for that?”

Ace’s smile is small. Not cocky. Not smug. Just… tired “Couldn’t sleep with it staring at me every day.”

The table is dead quiet now. Everyone’s eyes on the two of you.

You glance at Zoro. He’s watching Ace now. Calm. Unmoving.

Ace notices.

Something flickers in his eyes “Didn’t know you were a Straw Hat now.”

You steady your voice “I wasn't planning on staying with them at first, so I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

He hesitates “Yeah. Same.”

You don’t know what else to say. Neither does he. But damn it, the tension’s louder than the silence.

Dinner resumes... Kind of.

People try to keep it normal. Conversations start up again, tentative at first, then flowing a little easier. Luffy dives back into his mountain of food, thankfully oblivious. Usopp’s telling Brook about a “totally real” fight he had with a sea serpent, and Chopper’s wide-eyed and hanging on every word.

But at one end of the table, you sit next to Zoro, posture stiff.

Across from you, Ace is watching.

You can feel his gaze on your skin like sunburn. Every time you smile or laugh at something Zoro says. Every time Zoro nudges your shoulder casually. Every time you try to look like everything’s fine.

You’re not fooling anyone. Least of all Ace.

“Here,” Zoro says suddenly, shoving a cup toward you “You look like you need this.”

You blink “Sake already?”

He shrugs “It’s dinner. And you look like you’re about to jump overboard.”

You snort under your breath “Thanks.”

You drink. So does Ace.

And then again Sanji pours a fresh cup for him, glancing sideways “You alright there?”

Ace leans back with a grin that doesn’t touch his eyes “Peachy.”

He knocks back another drink.

You try not to look at him, but it’s like your eyes betray you every five seconds.

Zoro strangely keeps talking. Trying. He keeps you grounded when your thoughts threaten to drift into the fire sitting across the table.

But the alcohol is catching up to Ace.

His words get looser. His stare, more obvious.

“So,” he says after his third or fifth cup “How long’s that been a thing?”

Your head snaps up “What?”

Ace nods lazily toward you and Zoro “You and him. The whole… power couple thing.”

Zoro’s hand pauses around his cup “Didn’t know that was a thing.”

Ace shrugs, leaning an elbow on the table “Oh, it’s not. But I saw how you looked at her. Pretty sure I’ve seen animals less possessive.”

You set your cup down, jaw tight “Ace.”

“What?” he asks, eyes wide in mock innocence “We’re just catching up, right? Friends talk about relationships. Or is that off-limits too?”

Sanji clears his throat “Maybe you should pace yourself, Fire Fist.”

“Oh, I’m pacing,” Ace says, slouching back “Just catching up on a year of silence and disappearing acts.”

Your stomach drops.

Zoro glances at you but says nothing.

You speak slowly “This isn’t the place.”

Ace huffs a laugh “Yeah, no kidding. Because the place for it was back then, right? When you could’ve said something. Anything.”

Robin gently closes her book.

Nami’s eyes flicker between the two of you.

“I didn’t think I owed you an explanation” you snap, sharper than intended.

Ace leans forward, finally letting that bitter smile crack through “No, you didn’t. But damn, it would’ve been nice to get something other than your coat and full silence.”

Zoro moves slightly, like he’s ready to shut it down, but your face makes him understand he has to stop.

Everyone’s watching now, and you feel like you’re under a spotlight.

Ace shakes his head, laughing dryly “Hell, maybe I was the only idiot who thought it meant something.”

Your breath catches.

The words are out.

And for a moment, no one knows what to say. Not even him.

The dinner table clears awkwardly.

No one says anything outright, but it’s obvious they’re trying to give you space.

Luffy yawns exaggeratedly and says, “Wow, I’m full. So full. Gonna go sleep. Right now. So full.”

“Goodnight!” Chopper squeaks, tugging Usopp by the sleeve.

Even Sanji backs off, flicking his lighter once before disappearing into the galley.

That leaves just you, Ace and Zoro, standing up slowly, watching Ace with unreadable eyes.

“You gonna be alright?” Zoro asks, voice low.

You nod “Yeah.”

Zoro looks at you for a bit longer, then gives a short nod and walks away, leaving you with Ace’s stare burning holes in your side.

The silence stretches.

You finally break it “That was unnecessary.”

Ace doesn’t flinch “Which part? The part where you never said goodbye, or the part where you show up on a new ship with a boyfriend like none of us meant anything to you? Couldn't you just tell us you were leaving for love?”

Your jaw tightens “Zoro is my friend.”

He snorts “Could’ve fooled me.”

You look him dead in the eye “It’s not like that. It never was.”

The silence that follows is heavier than anything he said during dinner.

“…Oh.”

His voice is smaller now. Less fire, more ash.

You exhale “You seriously thought I left because of him?”

Ace’s fingers run through his hair “No. I don’t know. I thought—maybe—I don’t know, okay? You just vanished. You left without a damn word. I woke up, and you were gone. And now I found you here...”

Your breath hitches, but you stay rooted.

“I told Whitebeard to not worry you all too much” you say quietly.

“Only him...” Ace snaps, stepping closer now “Why? What was so bad you couldn’t even say goodbye to me?”

You blink fast, but your voice stays even “Because if I saw your face, I wouldn’t have been able to do it! It's not that hard to understand, Ace.”

Ace’s whole body stills.

You go on, voice low and raw “I didn’t leave because I hated the crew. Or you. I left because I hated me. I was tired of pretending I wasn’t falling apart inside. Tired of pretending I didn’t feel anything, especially around you.”

Ace doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe.

You shake your head “You didn’t need someone like me stuck in your shadow.”

“That’s not—” he starts, but you hold up a hand.

“I didn’t want to be another problem you had to solve.”

Silence again.

Then, slowly he says “You were never a problem.”

You glance up.

His eyes are different now. Not angry. Not jealous. Just… aching.

“You were a storm I wanted to chase,” he murmurs “but then you were just gone.”

Your chest tightens.

“You never said anything either” you whisper.

He laughs bitterly “Guess we both suck at this.”

Your heart pounding “So what now?”

Ace shrugs, but there’s no fire in it this time. Just quiet, open hurt “You tell me.”

Ace’s words hang in the air like smoke from a dying fire. You stare at him, heart tight and hammering. Part of you wants to move, say something, anything, but your feet won’t cooperate.

“You think I had some kind of perfect answer?” he says, voice cracking just slightly “You weren’t the only one pretending nothing hurt.”

Your brows knit “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

He steps closer.

“Because I didn’t know I could!” he bursts out “Because you always looked so strong. Always sharp. Looked like you never needed anyone, least of all me.”

You flinch. He sees it. Regrets it instantly.

“I didn’t mean—”

“No,” you cut him off, voice thick “You’re right. I made it look easy. I wore the mask. I made you all believe I was fine when I wasn’t. I guess it's normal you thought so if that was my plan to start with.”

Your eyes burn, but you keep going.

“You know what I remember, Ace? Nights on the Moby Dick where I stared at the ceiling wondering why I felt like I didn’t deserve to be there. Why I wasn’t enough. Why I could throw myself into battle for my crew and still feel like a fraud every time someone looked at me with respect.”

Ace’s breath catches “You were never a fraud.”

You laugh bitterly “I know that's a family, I love them all... but sometimes I felt like a fraud.”

The pain in your chest rises, sharp and breathless.

“But you...” your voice breaks, “you were the biggest thing I couldn’t handle. Not when I saw how easy it was for you to smile at someone else. Someone better.”

Ace’s eyes widen “Better?! What the hell are you talking about?”

You take a shaky breath “All these girls. The flirting. The way you lit up when you were with them. I saw it all. And I told myself... of course he doesn’t want you. Why would he?”

There’s silence. Only the sea, and your heart breaking against the rail of the Sunny.

Ace looks like someone just punched the air out of his lungs.

“That’s what you thought?” he whispers.

You nod, lips trembling “I left because it hurt to love you.”

The words hang there. Raw. Bleeding.

“You left,” he says slowly, “and took everything with you without even trying.”

Your throat closes.

Ace’s jaw clenches.

“I would’ve chosen you,” he says quietly “Every single time, if you gave me the chance.”

"But you can't blame me for being oblivious... You were always with some new girl, how could I even think I had a chance"

"I know. But you also knew I would have chosen you over some strangers, I wouldn't want to hurt you at all. If you gave me a change I would have put the whole world aside for you, Y/N."

You don’t know whether to cry or scream. So you laugh... a single, broken sound “And now it’s too late, right?”

“I don’t know” he says honestly “You tell me.”

His eyes are locked on yours, and he steps closer.

You don’t move away.

His hand hovers, hesitates, like he wants to touch your face, your shoulder, your hand, something, anything, but doesn’t know if he has the right anymore.

Your breath catches in your throat.

“Ace…”

And then—BANG. The galley door slams open.

“Yo, have either of you seen—oh.”

Luffy. Of course it’s Luffy.

He stops in the doorway, blinking wide, oblivious to the emotional minefield he’s just barged into “Uh. Am I interrupting?”

You jerk back instinctively. Ace steps away too, fast.

“No!” you say too quickly “No, you’re good.”

Ace turns away, face unreadable now. Mask back on, smooth and practiced.

Luffy glances between you two “You guys look weird.”

Neither of you responds.

He scratches the back of his head “Anyway, Robin and Nami are looking for you,” he tells you. “Something about maps and weird island currents.”

You nod, voice tight “Got it. I’ll be right there.”

Luffy eyes Ace for another second, then shrugs and leaves just as fast as he came, door clicking shut behind him.

Silence falls again but it’s different now. The moment is shattered, scattered like glass.

Ace doesn’t look at you.

You speak first, voice barely above a whisper “Ace…”

He cuts you off gently “You should go.”

You flinch “We weren’t done.”

“I think we were.”

You step toward him, but he doesn’t move.

He doesn’t let himself.

“I meant what I said” you tell him “About everything.”

His voice is quiet “Yeah. That’s the problem.”

And then he walks away. Leaving you standing in the dark, alone with the weight of all the things that almost happened.

You make it to the girls’ quarters, swallow hard and enter the room.

You close the door and put your body agaist it as if you're trying to let all the problems stay out.

Nami stands there, brows lifting when she sees your face “Hey, we were just—”

But then she looks closer and her casual smile drops right off her face.

“…You okay?”

Your throat locks up.

Behind her, Robin looks up from the maps she’s laying out, calm as ever but watching you with those eyes that always seem to see what you don’t want them to.

You try to say something. Anything.

You don’t.

You sit down instead. Hard. Right on the edge of Nami’s bed like your legs stopped working.

Nami follows instantly, crouching in front of you “What happened?”

You shake your head, blinking fast, jaw clenched.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you whisper, voice barely there “I don’t know how to fix this.”

And then it breaks as you cover your face with your hands.

The tears hit before you can stop them. Hot, shaking, ugly sobs that you’ve held down for too long. Too many months of silence, too much guilt, too much everything.

You’re not even crying quietly. You break.

“I left because I thought it was the right thing!” you gasp “I thought he didn’t feel anything and I couldn’t take it anymore. And now he’s here and he does and it’s just—it’s too late and I ruined it.”

Nami wraps her arms around you instantly, holding tight.

Robin doesn’t say anything at first. She just sits beside you, brushing your hair back from your wet face with a gentle hand.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Nami whispers “You were hurting. That’s not the same as ruining.”

You shake your head against her shoulder “He hates me.”

“He doesn’t...” Robin says simply.

You choke on a bitter laugh “He walked away.”

“Because he’s hurt too,” Robin adds “But that doesn’t mean it’s over.”

You wipe your face with your sleeve, trembling “I feel like I’ve been bleeding since the day I left.”

Robin’s voice is soft, but steady “Then maybe it’s time to stop bleeding. Start talking.”

Nami looks down at you, eyes gentle “Do you want to fix it?”

You nod. Miserably. Broken.

“Then we’ll help you,” she says “You don’t have to do it alone.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believe it.

The next morning, no one says anything out loud but it’s clear something has shifted.

You don’t talk about the breakdown you had the night before. You don’t talk about the ache in your throat or the way sleep never really came. You just sit at breakfast and try to act normal.

Except Robin keeps watching you. Nami keeps nudging your elbow like it’s nothing, but her smile is just a little too knowing.

Zoro doesn’t say a word but when Ace walks in and his eyes meet yours across the room and then quickly slide away Zoro exhales through his nose and mutters, “This is stupid.”

Nami catches that.

Her eyes flick to Robin, who arches a brow.

Time to get to work.

“Ace,” Nami says casually, catching him after breakfast, “Luffy’s going to be real mad if you leave before sparring with him again.”

Ace pauses “We already did yesterday. I'm here just to take some food.”

“Yeah, but now he wants a rematch. Says you cheated.”

“I didn’t cheat.”

“He’s Luffy,” Nami shrugs “He doesn’t care.”

Ace gives her a side glance “Why are you so invested?”

She smiles, all teeth “Me? Not at all.”

Later, Robin finds you on the deck alone, staring at the waves. You haven’t seen Ace since breakfast.

“He hasn’t left yet” she says gently.

You don’t look at her “I know.”

Robin glances out at the horizon “You’re not the only one afraid, you know.”

You grip the railing tighter “Then why does it feel like I am?”

Robin’s voice is soft “Because you’re not used to being vulnerable. But strength isn’t always about standing tall.”

You finally glance at her “You’re not really here to talk about fear.”

She smiles “No. I’m here to remind you that there’s still time.”

Meanwhile, Zoro corners Ace on the training deck. No swords, just crossed arms and that usual scowl.

“You leaving?” he asks.

Ace shrugs “Probably.”

Zoro raises a brow “You couldn't care less about that coat, did you?”

Ace laughs once “No.”

Zoro nods “Figured.”

“She cried last night.”

Ace’s shoulders freeze.

Zoro keeps his voice even “Not for attention. Not for drama. She broke. I heard her from the girls’ room”

Ace turns his head, jaw tense “…She okay?”

“No,” Zoro says honestly “And neither are you.”

He starts to walk away, but pauses.

“You don’t get many second chances,” he says over his shoulder “Don’t be a dumbass.”

Later that day, Luffy walks up to Ace and beams.

“Hey! Are you and Y/N in love?”

Ace nearly chokes on air “What?!”

Luffy tilts his head “You’re mad. She’s sad. You love each other, right? Just fix it already.”

Ace blinks at him, stunned.

“…You know, for a rubber guy, you’re terrifyingly blunt.”

Luffy grins “Thanks!”

By sunset, you’re back at the rail again. Same spot. Same ache.

Footsteps approach and you already know it’s him.

Ace stops a few feet away.

“You’re avoiding me” he says quietly.

“I’m trying to give you space.”

He exhales “I think we’ve had enough space to destroy a fleet.”

You swallow, heart pounding.

He steps closer.

“Can we talk?” he asks.

Your eyes meet his and nod.

The sky bleeds orange and gold as the sun dips low behind the sea.

Ace steps up beside you, quiet and calm. No tension in his shoulders.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.”

You turn slowly to look at him.

“I figured” you whisper.

Ace nods “I came for a coat. Didn’t expect to get set on fire instead.”

You almost smile. Almost.

He looks out over the ocean “Whitebeard misses you. So does Marco. Thatch tried to make your favorite meal last week but burned it like an idiot.”

You swallow hard.

“They never said it but I know they all knew why you left” he says “I was the only one not understanding…”

He doesn’t look at you yet.

He goes on “I’ll say you found your place. That you’re with Luffy’s crew now. That you’re surrounded by people who care about you. That you’re safe. I know my little brother will take good care of you. Even that green moody head seems to care about you.”

His voice softens “And I’ll tell them you’re happy.”

You feel something twist in your chest.

“And what about you?” you ask.

Ace is quiet.

“For a long time,” he says, “I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. Flirting, smiling, messing around… it was easy. It was nothing. Because the real thing scared me.”

You finally look at him.

He’s already watching you.

“I told myself I didn’t care,” he says “That the way I looked at you didn’t mean anything. That it was fine if you didn’t look back.”

He laughs bitterly “But I did care. I cared so damn much it felt like it was choking me.”

Your breath catches.

“Feeling things terrified me”

Silence.

Then he finally says it, soft and aching “I was in love with you. Still am.”

The air rushes out of your lungs.

Ace looks away.

“But I’m not asking you for anything. Not now. Not after all this. I just… I couldn’t leave without saying it. I couldn’t let you think it didn’t matter. That you didn’t matter. It will hurt to go back without you but I meant it before, I'll be happy to know you found another family here, with Luffy out of all people.”

You stare at him, heart pounding.

“You still love me?” you whisper “I thought it was too late...”

“It probably is,” he says with a small smile “But at least you’ll know.”

He turns to leave but your hand shoots out and you grab his sleeve.

“…Stay one more day,” you say, voice shaking “Please.”

Ace freezes.

Slowly, he turns back to you and for the first time in forever there’s hope in his eyes.

Neither of you say much since you asked him to stay.

But the silence is comfortable now. Familiar. Safe.

Ace glances sideways, his voice low “You sure about this?”

You nod, just once.

“Yeah.”

His fingers twitch beside yours, like he wants to reach for you again but he waits.

“I don’t mean just staying,” he murmurs “I mean… this. Us. Me.”

You take a breath, and your hand moves to cover his.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t sure.”

He lets out a breath, almost like relief.

You both look out at the sea a while longer before you speak again.

“I missed you every day.”

Ace turns to you.

Your voice trembles, but you don’t look away.

“I thought about you every time I smiled. Every time something good happened. You were just… there in my mind, like you never left.”

His hand turns under yours, fingers lacing gently through yours.

“I hated you for leaving” he whispers.

You blink but he’s not angry. His voice is soft. Wounded.

“I hated you,” he says, “because you didn’t give me the chance to try stop you. But also because I was scared and stupid and thought I had time to figure it out.”

You’re quiet for a long moment.

Then you shift closer, just slightly, knees brushing. His hand stays in yours.

“You still have time.”

He looks at you then. Like you’re the first sunrise after a shipwreck.

“Can I kiss you?”

Your heart stutters.

You nod “Yes.”

And he does. It’s not desperate. Not rushed. Just real.

His lips are warm and trembling against yours. One hand moves to cradle your cheek, thumb brushing soft. You kiss him back, slow and full of everything you never got to say.

When he pulls away, his forehead rests gently against yours.

You rise slowly, fingers never leaving his, and lead him back into your room, silent, sure.

The night is tender. You lie beside each other in the dark, hearts bare and hands exploring familiar skin like it’s new.

When he presses kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your temple, you know it’s not just affection. It’s an apology. A thank you. A promise.

When he asks softly, “Is this okay?” you say “Yes” like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And when you make love, it’s not about what you lost. It’s about what you finally found again.

No masks. No fear.

Just warmth.

Just you and him.

Just home.

You wake up warm.

Ace’s arm is draped across your waist, his breath steady at your back. His fingers twitch every so often, like he’s dreaming something wild. Or maybe something peaceful, for once.

You don’t want to move but you do, because you have to, because you both knew last night didn’t mean nothing’s changed, it meant everything has.

The galley is loud by the time you walk in.

The crew’s halfway through breakfast, everyone arguing over eggs and toast like nothing happened, like your world didn’t shift overnight.

Ace walks in behind you a second later, and the room stills for a heartbeat.

Then “YOU’RE FIRED!”

Luffy slams his hands on the table and points directly at you, grinning wide.

You blink “What?”

“You heard me!” he says “You slept with my brother! And on my ship! That’s illegal!”

You blush embarassed that even your oblivious Captain knew what happened.

Robin lifts her teacup “There’s no such law.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Luffy declares “I’m the captain. I make the rules here. Y/N, you’re fired.”

You open your mouth, then stop.

Because behind the ridiculous accusation, behind the over-the-top delivery you see the way his voice softens just slightly, the way his eyes look proud, not mad.

The way Nami nudges you, it’s okay.

This is Luffy's way of letting you go. He doesn’t want you to feel like you’re abandoning them.

So he turns it into a joke. A ridiculous, loud, Luffy's joke.

You laugh. You can’t help it.

Tears prick your eyes anyway.

Even Sanji tries his best to play it cool, almost looking proud, of you? Or of his Captain for understanding.

Usopp tries to cover Chopper's ears so that he doesn't hear about these adults' things.

Zoro doesn’t say much. Just leans back, arms folded, watching you with that unreadable gaze of his. But when you meet his eyes he nods. Just once.

He gets it. Even if it hurts a little more than he shows.

After breakfast, you start to pack. You barely get two things in your bag before someone knocks on your door.

Zoro.

He leans in the doorway, arms crossed, swords resting against his hip.

“Guess it’s real, huh?” he says quietly.

You nod.

“…Yeah.”

He doesn’t move for a second. Then he steps forward and gives something to you.

It’s your old Whitebeard crew headband you used to have on your arm, it's tattered and sun-bleached, but whole.

“Found it in the storage room last week,” he says “Thought you might want it back now.”

Your throat tightens “Thank you.”

Zoro shrugs “You were always part of another crew before this one. Doesn’t mean we didn’t like having you.”

“I’ll miss you” you whisper.

He smiles soft, sad “Don’t get all sentimental now. I won’t cry.”

You laugh through your tears and hugs him without giving him time to protest.

Zoro stays still for a while, his arm instinctively around your shoulders but he steps back before he could let him touch you.

“Go on, then,” he says “He’s waiting.”

You find Ace on the deck, bag slung over his shoulder, waiting at the edge of the ship like he’s afraid you’ll change your mind.

You take his hand and when you look back, the whole crew is there. Waving. Smiling. Luffy cheering like an idiot.

Little you know as soon as you’re out of sight Luffy, Nami, Chopper, Usopp amd Sanji all start to cry and act whining about how much they already miss you.

Your heart aches but it also feels full. Because you’re not losing a family. You’re just returning to another one, with love in your wake.

The Moby Dick is quiet when the small boat approaches. Too quiet.

Ace shifts nervously beside you, one hand still loosely holding yours, he hasn’t let go once since you left the Strawhats. You’re both sun-warmed, tired, hearts still tender. But you feel lighter now. Whole.

The closer you get, the more you can make out familiar silhouettes on deck. Marco, Thatch, Izo, even Whitebeard himself arms crossed, massive grin already tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Ace glances at you “Ready?”

You squeeze his hand “You better not let go the second we dock.”

He grins, all teeth and dimples “Not a chance.”

⸻

The second your boots hit the deck, it’s chaos.

“YOU BROUGHT HER BACK?!” Thatch yells, practically jumping over the railing to tackle you in a hug.

Marco stares at you, blinking slowly “I thought you were mad at all of us.”

You raise a brow “I wasn’t mad.”

Then his eyes flick to your joined hands.

Then back to your faces.

“…Wait.”

Izo’s eyes narrow “Wait.”

There’s a pause.

And then everyone starts yelling at once.

“What the hell—since when?!”

“Hold on, you two are—are—what is this?”

“Are you in love now?!”

“Thatch owes me 500 berries!!”

You laugh joyfully, and Ace wraps his arm around your waist like he’s proud to show you off. Because he is.

Whitebeard’s booming laughter cuts through it all “So the brat really did bring you back. And you didn’t punch him?”

“Not yet,” you tease “But the day’s still young.”

Ace leans into you, soft and smug “I’m pretty sure she loves me too much to punch me.”

You elbow him.

“I repeat” you deadpan “The day is still young.”

Everyone groans.

Marco squints suspiciously “No, seriously. You? Soft? Since when?”

Ace, without a hint of shame “Since forever. I was just emotionally constipated.”

“Understatement of the century” mutters Izo.

Thatch’s voice cuts in, cackling “Do I get to be best man at the wedding or what?!”

You choke. Ace doesn’t even deny it, just raises his brows like, maybe.

You cover your face “I hate it here.”

Ace pulls your hand away gently and kisses your cheek in front of everyone.

“Liar” he murmurs, voice low and warm.

You glance up at him and yeah.

Okay.

You really, really don’t.