#but none of the characters seemed fitting enough?

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 11

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lizzie barely had time to take in the Quadrant studio before a guy launched himself across the room like he was personally greeting a royal dignitary.

“Oh my god, you actually brought her,” he gushed, stopping just short of throwing himself at Mara’s paws. “Lando never lets us meet his friends—”

Lando sighed theatrically, rolling his eyes as he led Lizzie inside. "Because you're all lunatics."

The man grinned, unfazed by Lando's comment. "Yeah, but we're your lunatics.”

Max Fewtrell, already grinning, lifted his phone. “Right, formal introduction time. Lizzie, welcome to Quadrant chaos. You already know me—”

“Tragically,” Lando mumbled.

“—but this is Ethan, who thinks he runs things, Ria, who actually runs things, and Steve, the only adult in the room.”

Lizzie grinned. “Nice to finally meet you all.”

“Oh, we’re making this official,” Ria said, practically vibrating as she rummaged through a box on the table.

Lando groaned. “I already hate this.”

Ethan smirked. “Oh, you will.”

With a dramatic flourish, Ria pulled out a small fabric bundle and unfolded it.

Lizzie blinked.

It was a Quadrant dog bandana. Black with neon streaks, the brand’s logo stitched neatly in the corner.

“You made her merch?” Lizzie asked, trying to hold back a laugh.

Lando let out a long-suffering sigh. “Okay, listen. I can’t be seen walking a dog wearing Ferrari merch—”

"You could just walk her," Max chimed in.

"Shut up. Anyway.” Lando picked up the bandana. “And I highly doubt Lizzie would let me put McLaren papaya on her—”

“Not happening,” Lizzie confirmed.

“So this is a compromise.” Lando gestured at the bandana like it was the only logical solution. "I thought she’d want a little Quadrant flair too.”

There was a beat of silence as everyone seemed to process his logic.

Then, everyone started laughing. Loudly.

"Oh my god." Ethan shook his head, grinning. "Lando Norris, dog-walking fashion expert. Who would have thought?”

Max snorted. “Honestly, I get it. The internet would never let you live it down.”

Lando shot him a look. "Exactly. Have you checked Twitter lately? They already think I'm the biggest Ferrari fan in the history of ever. I don't need to give them any more ammunition."

Everyone else laughed harder. Ria was trying to catch her breath. "Oh my god, Lando, you're such a drama queen."

Steve, the supposed only adult in the room, was the only one who didn’t laugh. Instead, he studied the bandana with a considering expression. “Honestly, it is a good look. The orange would have clashed with her coat anyway.”

That set off another round of laughter, but Lando looked oddly appeased by Steve’s assessment.

Max clapped his hands together, grinning. “Right, Mara needs to try it on. Lando. Do your thing.”

Lando rolled his eyes, yet he knelt next to Mara. The Labrador seemed to realize this was important, because she sat perfectly still, her eyes trained on the bandana.

Lando wrapped the bandana around her neck, adjusting it until it fit snugly.

“There we go. She’s a Quadrant girl now,” he said, ruffling Mara’s ears.

 Lizzie crouched beside her.

“What do you think, girl?” she asked. “You like it?”

Mara gave a single wag of her tail.

“Oh, that’s a yes,” Ria confirmed, nodding sagely.

“100%,” Max agreed.

Lando stood, hands on his hips. "Of course she likes it. I have good taste."

Lizzie suppressed a smirk, trying (and failing) to hide her amusement at the ridiculous scene unfolding before her.

"And he's modest too," she joked.

Lando shot her a look, though there was no real annoyance behind it. "Hey, I'm just stating facts."

Max snickered. "Lando Norris, humble as always."

"You all just wish you were as humble as I am," Lando shot back, rolling his eyes.

Ethan gave an exaggerated sigh. "I know. It's tragic really. If only we could be as modest as the great Lando 'I'm a better driver than everyone in this room' Norris."

Lando flicked him off in response.

"So, this is where the magic is gonna happen?" Lizzie asked curiously, staring around the warehouse. "It looks..."

"Like an abandoned warehouse?" Max suggested drily. "It's for the aesthetic of the photoshoot."

"And what is that aesthetic?" Lizzie asked. "Where to dump a body?"

Lando shot her an amused glance. "Dark, edgy, abandoned industrial-chic, I think."

"Yeah, it's our 'we're really cool and don't care' vibe," Ethan chimed in.

Ria nodded. "And it's cheaper than renting out an actual studio."

"Not to mention we have the freedom to set everything up exactly the way we want," Steve added.

"You know...for the vibe," Max said, wiggling his fingers in the air.

"I think the aesthetic choice is very 'Lando','" Lizzie mused, eyeing Lando, who looked offended.

"What does that mean?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hmm..." Lizzie tapped a finger against her chin, pretending to think. "Rich, edgy, slightly obnoxious..."

"I am none of those things," Lando protested.

Lizzie stared at him. "Lando, you literally bought a Range Rover on a whim. Now you are sitting here,  in front of the dog, whose bandana you had custom designed as we debate the 'aesthetic' of your photoshoot in a warehouse."

Max snickered, while Ria and Ethan tried to hide their smiles. 

Lando huffed. "Fine, I see your point. But it's still a cool aesthetic."

"It's definitely unique," Lizzie conceded.

Max's grin widened as he turned to Mara, who had been quietly observing the entire exchange. "And what do you think, Mara? Do you think Lando has a cool aesthetic?"

The Labrador simply sat there, with her tongue lolling out, blissfully unaware of the debate about Lando's cool factor.

Lizzie smiled. "I think that's a solid 'yes' in dog language."

"Alright, alright. Enough making fun of me," Lando complained, though he didn't look particularly bothered. 

Steve, who'd been watching the whole exchange, finally spoke up.

"You know, I have to say, this is already more fun than most photoshoots."

Granted, Lizzie had managed to get through her life with literally only three photoshoots unless one counted random selfies with fans, so she tended to agree.

It was quite fun that she got to watch the whole thing go down though, shooting Lando's newest merch collection, while Mara happily took a nap on her feet. It was...interesting to see this side of him. 

Lando, as it turned out, had a knack for modeling. He effortlessly fell into different poses, morphing from nonchalant cool to charming casual without breaking a sweat. Lizzie couldn't help but admire him.

Ethan, as the photographer, seemed to be having the time of his life. He directed the shoot with enthusiasm, barking instructions like the self-proclaimed art director. "Okay, Lando, give me intense stare. Yeah, that's it. Now, throw in some smolder."

Max, playing the role of the hype man, didn't hesitate to boost up Lando's ego.  "Damn, mate. You were made for this. When are you gonna ditch racing and become a professional model?"

"Never," Lando shot back, without even pausing in his poses. "I have too much dignity for that."

"Dignity? You?" Max laughed. "That ship sailed years ago."

"Oh, shut up," Lando retorted, but he couldn't quite hide his smile.

Lizzie watched all of this with amusement, her eyes fixated on Lando as he moved in front of the camera.

He was a different person in front of the lens.

Confident, charismatic, almost...intoxicating.

It was easy to lose herself in the view, especially as his gaze frequently met hers, his smug smirk sending tingles down her spine.

God, he was handsome.

After what felt like hours, the shoot was over.

The lights were shut off, the equipment packed away, and the warehouse slowly returned from a makeshift photoshoot studio back to an abandoned warehouse.

Lando, as if waking from a trance, wandered over to Lizzie, his gaze roaming over her in a way that she could only describe as hungry.

"You’re staring," Lizzie pointed out, fighting down a shiver as his gaze continued to linger on her.

Lando gave her a lazy smile, not bothering to look away. "Can you blame me?"

Lizzie’s heart did a little flip, her cheeks warming under his gaze. She was still getting used to this — the casual intimacy between them, the easy banter, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing in the room worth seeing.

She could hear the others packing up and chattering in the background, their voices a soft, background hum. But right now, her attention was laser-focused on Lando, his eyes still holding hers captive.

"We need to get going," she said, kinda hating herself fo having to say that. "Tasha will kill me if I am late to my own reading."

Lando nodded, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from her.

“Right, right. Can’t have Tasha coming after you with a pitchfork,” he said, his tone light but his eyes still holding that intense look.

She gave him a smile, but she promised herself that tonight…tonight she was going to take advantage of that massive bed in their hotel room. 

***

"We banned all flash photography and we'll had somebody tell them to just ignore Mara multiple times," Tasha said seriously.

Lando hadn't known that Lizzies best friend slash pseudo-sister also had the role as personal assistant slash point of contact for everybody that was involved in Lizzie's actual job...but he had learned that over the last few weeks.

Lando leaned back in his seat, watching Tasha as she talked. She was a force to be reckoned with, that much was obvious. He couldn't help but respect her dedication to making sure everything ran smoothly.

And he was also very glad that Lizzie had somebody with her at all times that knew the ins and outs of her epilepsy better than anybody else.

Tasha was a godsend, both a best friend and a safety net for Lizzie.

As Tasha continued briefing them on the night's schedule, Lando let his gaze drift to Lizzie, who was listening intently to her friend.

She was an absolute star to look at as always, but there was something different about tonight. There was a spark in her eyes, a hint of excitement, and a faint smile on her lips he really liked.

Lando was not the type to sit and listen to people gushing over books for hours, but given the way Lizzie looked, he was sure he could put up with it...

He had been to his fair share of movie premieres and gallery openings, but those were easy. He took a few pictures, flashed a charming smile...he was the center of attention. 

But tonight…Lando Norris was completely ignored. Because he was uninteresting. 

Elizabeth Treshton was the star. 

Lando Norris got to sit backstage and follow along from the shadows. 

And quite frankly, he found the whole experience fascinating, just because he got to see Lizzie's world.

The world of books, of words and imagination. It was utterly foreign to him, and yet he couldn't help but find it fascinating...especially with Lizzie in the middle of it.

She was the star here. She was the one people wanted to see. The world she had created, the characters that had been born out of her words on a page...millions of people had read these words.

And they loved them.

Lando found, to his surprise, that he couldn't take his eyes off her as she walked on stage, as she read a few pages, as the hall clapped, and as she answered the first few questions. It wasn't even about the words anymore, it was about the way she talked, about the way her eyes shined. About the way she was fully in her element.

He wasn't looking at a different woman...but he was looking at a facet of hers...that he hadn't yet gotten to completely see.

And he found himself wondering how many there were. How many layers he still had to uncover, how many things he still needed to discover.

He was a race car driver, speed and competition were his domain. He was living the life he'd always wanted.

But sitting here in this venue, watching Lizzie take the stage and make an audience of strangers hang onto her every word like the last light in a dark cave...he knew he was only scratching the surface here.

The rest of the reading, the Q&A and the signing went by in a bit of a blur. He was too busy watching Lizzie and the way her face lit up when fans came up to her and told her how her writing had moved or inspired them. And when she was finally finished, making her way towards him with a tired smile on her face, he couldn't help but reach out and grab her by the hand to pull her closer.

Her steps faltered for a second as he pulled her closer, but when she looked at him, her expression melted into a soft, tired smile. "You held out pretty well," she teased lightly.

Lando shrugged nonchalantly, his grip on her hand tightening. "I had a pretty good view to keep me entertained," he replied, his gaze drifting over her face with an intensity that belied his casual tone.

"Oh? And what exactly was so entertaining about the view?" Lizzie asked, amusement sparkling in her eyes despite her obvious tiredness.

Lando's smile widened into a lazy smirk. "Just taking in the show, Miss Treshton," he said, his thumb tracing circles against her wrist. "You were quite the spectacle up there."

Lizzie arched an eyebrow. "Spectacle, huh? Are you just trying to butter me up, Mr. Norris?"

"You are incredible, you know that?" he told her seriously.

She stared at him wide-eyed.

"And not just tonight," he continued, unable to keep the admiration out of his voice. "You've built a whole world with your words, Lizzie. And you've got millions of people wrapped around your little finger, myself included.”

[aspenmissing]

Heyyy, I just wanted to say that I really enjoy your writing!!! Also, I would love to see the way you write the arcane characters x chubby reader if it's possible? (Sorry if you have already done something like this) 💗

ʙᴜɪʟᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡᴏʀꜱʜɪᴘ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴄʟᴀɢɢᴏʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 4183 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴇʟꜰ-ᴄᴏɴꜱᴄɪᴏᴜꜱ, ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ᴏɴᴇꜱᴇʟꜰ, ʟɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴꜱᴜʟᴛ (ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ), ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ/ɴᴜᴅɪᴛʏ (ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴏɴᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ꜱᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ! ɪ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇꜱᴇ ʙᴜꜰꜰ, ʟᴇᴀɴ ᴍᴇɴ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴄʜᴜʙʙʏ ꜱ/ᴏ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜɪᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴄʟᴀɢɢᴏʀ

JAYCE

Jayce had always been drawn to beauty. The sleekness of Hextech, the gleam of polished metal, the refined architecture of Piltover. But none of it, none of it, compared to you.

You, with your curves that seemed sculpted by the gods themselves, draped in fabric that hugged every soft dip and roll of your body. You had never been one to hide, never been one to shrink yourself down to fit into someone else’s mould. You knew exactly who you were, and you owned it.

And Jayce? Jayce adored it.

He watched from across the room as you adjusted your corset, pushing up your ample chest with a satisfied smirk. The deep burgundy fabric accentuated every inch of you, cinched at the waist, only to flare out around your full hips. You turned slightly, catching him staring in the mirror, and let out a teasing hum.

"Like what you see, Talis?"

Jayce set down the schematics he was pretending to study and leaned against his desk, arms crossed, but his eyes never left you. "You know I do. How could I not when you look like that?"

You sauntered over, hips swaying, reveling in the way his gaze darkened, how he practically devoured you without laying a single hand on you yet. Stopping in front of him, you placed a hand on his chest and tilted your chin up, an eyebrow raised.

"You should say it, you know," you teased. "A man of your intellect should be able to articulate what he wants."

Jayce let out a breathy chuckle, his hands finally finding your waist, his fingers pressing into the plush softness there. He had always been strong, always been powerful, but when it came to you? He was completely at your mercy.

"I want you," he murmured, pulling you flush against him. "I love all of you."

You grinned, satisfied, running your hands up his broad shoulders. "Damn right you do."

Jayce kissed you then, slow and deep, pouring every ounce of devotion into the press of his lips against yours. His hands roamed greedily, tracing every curve, every soft plane, revelling in the warmth of you beneath his fingertips. He didn’t just love you—he worshipped you.

His lips moved from yours, trailing down your jawline, along the sensitive skin of your neck, drawing a soft sigh from you. "You drive me insane, you know that?" he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and teasing.

You laughed, fingers tangling in his dark hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. "I know. That’s half the fun."

His grip on your waist tightened as he lifted you effortlessly, setting you down on his desk amidst scattered blueprints and tools. His hands slid along your thighs, his thumbs brushing teasingly over the tops of your stockings. "And what about you?" he asked, his voice husky. "Do you know what you do to me?"

Your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer. "Oh, I have an idea," you purred. "But I’d love a demonstration."

Jayce let out a deep, satisfied chuckle before capturing your lips again, his hands roaming, exploring, savouring every inch of you. He wanted to make sure you felt just how much he adored you, how much he needed you. Every curve, every soft plane—everything about you drove him to the brink of madness.

And he had no intention of stopping.

VIKTOR

The hum of Piltover’s night buzzed softly beyond the lab’s windows, but inside, all was still. The only illumination came from the dim glow of Hextech crystals, their soft light casting a golden hue over Viktor’s form as he lounged on the small couch in his lab. He looked comfortable—one arm stretched over the back, the other resting against his chest, his ever-present cane propped against the side of the couch. His golden eyes gleamed with warmth as they traced over you, standing hesitantly by his side.

“Come,” he murmured, patting his chest invitingly. “Lay with me, moje láska.” (My Love)

Your heart clenched at the tenderness in his voice, but the moment you considered it, a flicker of hesitation crept in. You weren’t small, and Viktor—Viktor was delicate in ways you didn’t like to dwell on. His body bore the weight of his work, of years of overexertion and the creeping grasp of his illness. You didn’t want to risk making it worse.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you admitted, arms crossing over your stomach instinctively. “I’m—”

“Soft?” Viktor finished for you, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Warm? Everything I could possibly want pressing into me?” He tilted his head, watching you with an expression you knew well—the one that told you he was about to be stubborn.

You scoffed, but your pulse quickened when he suddenly reached for you, strong fingers curling around your wrist. Before you could protest, he pulled, not with force, but with conviction, guiding you until you were straddling his lap. His hands settled at your hips, grounding you.

You froze. “Viktor—”

“Shh,” he soothed, slipping a hand up your back, pressing you down against him. “You will not break me, my love. I want you here.”

Your breath caught as his warmth seeped into you, his body firm beneath you despite his slender frame. His heartbeat thrummed steadily under your ear, and for a moment, all the worries melted away. His fingers traced absentminded patterns over your back, slow and tender, as if memorizing every curve of you.

"Perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with sleepiness and something deeper—something reverent. "I have dreamed of this. Of you, against me, without restraint."

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I just—sometimes I worry that I’m too much.”

Viktor huffed a laugh, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “můj drahý, if you are too much, then let me be crushed beneath your love. It is the only weight I wish to bear.” (My Dear)

His words wrapped around your heart like silk, warm and unyielding. You let yourself exhale, sinking further into his embrace. Viktor hummed in approval, his hands smoothing over your back as though reassuring himself that you were finally giving in.

“See?” he whispered. “Not so bad, is it?”

You nuzzled into his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss against the junction of his neck and collarbone. “You’re warm,” you admitted.

Viktor chuckled, the sound deep and content. “I should hope so. You are quite the blanket.”

You groaned against his skin, giving his side a playful squeeze, and he laughed again—a real, genuine laugh, the kind that made your chest ache with love.

=

For a long moment, you simply lay there, tangled together. Viktor’s breathing was steady, a slow rise and fall beneath you, his hand trailing idly over your back. You felt the occasional twitch in his leg, the remnants of strain from a long day, but he never complained. If anything, he held you tighter, as though afraid you might slip away.

“You should rest,” you murmured after a while, shifting just enough to brush your fingers through his hair. It was soft, tousled from hours spent hunched over his workbench, and the urge to card through it further was impossible to resist.

Viktor hummed, tipping his head slightly into your touch. “I will. But only if you stay right here.”

Your lips curved into a small smile. “I think I can manage that.”

He smirked, but there was something softer beneath it. “Good,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “Because I do not plan to let you go.”

His voice had that low, certain weight to it, the kind that made your breath catch.

Viktor was many things—brilliant, stubborn, a man forever chasing the next great discovery—but above all, he was yours. And no matter how many doubts clouded your mind, no matter how often you worried about being too much, he always pulled you back to him.

Always.

You shifted slightly, just enough to press a lingering kiss to his jaw before settling against him once more. His arms wrapped around you with ease, and as the glow of the Hextech crystals flickered gently in the dim light, you felt it.

The quiet gravity of him. Of this. Of home.

JAYVIK

The door creaked open as Viktor and Jayce stepped into their shared room, voices low as they discussed the day’s work. The scent of metal and oil clung to them, remnants of long hours in the lab. They hadn’t expected to find Y/N standing before the full-length mirror, clad only in her underwear, fingers pinching harshly at the soft skin of her stomach.

Viktor stopped mid-step, his cane pressing into the floor. Jayce’s brows furrowed, his expression softening as he took in the scene. Y/N didn’t seem to notice them yet, lost in her own harsh assessment, a scowl pulling at her lips. The dim light cast shadows on her frame, accentuating every dip and curve she scrutinized so cruelly.

“What are you doing, darling?” Viktor’s voice was gentle but firm, enough to break her from her trance.

Y/N startled, arms moving instinctively to cover herself. “I—nothing. It’s nothing.”

Jayce sighed, stepping closer, his large hands reaching for hers. “That doesn’t look like nothing,” he said, guiding her arms away with deliberate care. He traced his fingers over the soft pouch of her stomach, his touch warm and grounding. “You know, this?” He pressed a kiss just above her navel. “This is where your body keeps you safe, keeps you healthy.”

Viktor moved to her side, his cane resting against the dresser as he cupped her cheek. “Did you know that this,” he murmured, his fingers skimming over the plush skin at her waist, “is a sign of warmth? Your body holds onto softness because it knows you deserve it.” He leaned in, lips brushing over the side of her stomach, reverent and slow.

Jayce’s fingers traced down her thighs, his lips following suit. “And these?” He murmured against the soft flesh. “These are strength. They carry you, support you, and they are beautiful.” He pressed a kiss against the plush skin, appreciating the warmth beneath his lips. “Soft, strong, and perfect.”

Viktor’s hands ghosted over her upper arms, his thumb rubbing circles over them. “These arms have held us, comforted us,” he said softly. “How could you think anything less of them?” He kissed her shoulder, letting his lips linger before whispering, “They are a gift.”

Jayce chuckled, tilting her chin up so he could brush his lips against the underside. “And this,” he murmured, pressing another kiss, “is just another part of you to love. It’s soft, and every time I see it, I think of how beautiful you are.”

Viktor’s lips curled into a soft smile as he kissed along her collarbone, then lower. His fingers traced the plush swell of her breasts, admiration shining in his eyes. “And these,” he breathed, voice laced with affection, “are perfect. They make the best pillows.” His lips brushed over them gently, reverently. “Soft, warm, and made to be cherished.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her earlier self-criticism wavering in the face of their tenderness. “I just…” she exhaled shakily. “I don’t always feel good about it.”

Jayce hummed, kneeling before her, his hands splaying over her hips. “Then let us remind you.” He pressed another kiss, this time to the inside of her thigh, his touch radiating nothing but admiration.

Viktor’s lips curled into a soft smile as he kissed along her shoulder. “We see every part of you, and we adore it. Every curve, every mark—” he kissed the soft skin of her upper arm, “—every inch of you is worthy of love.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, overwhelmed by the weight of their affection. Her self-doubt still lingered, but in this moment, with their hands and lips mapping her body with care, it was easier to believe that maybe—just maybe—they were right.

VANDER

The Last Drop had quieted for the night, its usual hum of raucous voices and the clink of glass replaced by the low crackling of the hearth. Vander leaned against the bar, his watchful gaze softening as he took in the sight before him.

There you were, curled up on the worn-out couch near the fire, with Vi and Powder nestled against you, their small forms tucked against your warmth. Mylo lay sprawled across your lap, his head resting on your plush thigh, while Claggor had somehow claimed a spot by your hip, one arm slung across your waist like a lifeline.

He huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. They adored you—each of them, drawn to your kindness, your warmth, your presence.

Hell, how could they not?

You were the heart of this ragtag family, and Vander knew, deep in his bones, he was the luckiest bastard alive to have you.

"Think ya got enough room there, love?" he teased, approaching with that familiar smirk playing at his lips.

Your sleepy eyes met his, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "Mmm, there's always room for you," you murmured, voice thick with drowsiness.

His heart damn near melted.

Crouching beside you, he reached out, his large, calloused hand running over the curve of your hip, giving it a firm, appreciative squeeze.

"That so?" he murmured, voice low, eyes glinting with something more.

Vi stirred, grumbling against your shoulder. "Ugh, get a room, you two…"

You laughed softly, fingers threading through Powder’s messy blue hair. "Shhh, just sleep, sweetheart."

Vander only grinned. "Girl’s got a point, though." His hand trailed lower, fingers ghosting over your thigh before he realized—his damn spot was taken.

Mylo, the little brat, was already sprawled across your lap, his head buried against the plush of your thigh like he had every right in the world to it.

Vander let out a deep sigh, shaking his head with a smirk as he lowered himself to the floor beside you. "Guess I’m gettin’ bumped to second place now, huh?"

You hummed, amused. "You saying you'd fight a kid for my thigh?"

His rough chuckle rumbled through his chest as he leaned in, resting his head just beside your other thigh, where your warmth radiated like a comforting embrace. "Depends. Think I got a chance?"

You carded your fingers through his thick hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. Vander sighed, completely boneless beneath your touch, his hand slipping up to squeeze at your hip, thumb tracing lazy circles against the soft flesh.

"Dunno how ya do it," he muttered, voice thick with something deep, something reverent. "Holdin’ all of us together like this."

You smiled, tilting your head down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. "Because I love you. All of you."

His grip on your hip tightened, just for a moment. "Yeah, love?" His voice was husky, filled with something raw. "Lucky me, then."

And with that, sleep claimed him, wrapped in your warmth, in your love, in the family you’d built together.

=

Morning came with the usual chaos—Vi trying to fight Mylo over breakfast, Powder accidentally knocking over a mug, Claggor just trying to keep the peace.

You were at the stove, flipping eggs onto plates, the rich scent of a hearty meal filling the room. A pot simmered nearby, steam curling up in lazy wisps. With a sigh, you crouched down to grab a skillet from the lower cabinet, shifting aside a few mismatched lids in the process.

And then—smack.

A sharp but playful sting echoed through the kitchen. You jolted, head nearly knocking against the counter as you whipped around with a glare. Vander stood there, utterly unapologetic, his arms crossed over his broad chest, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Vander," you hissed, eyes narrowing.

"Morning, love," he rumbled, entirely too amused.

Your glare wavered when he leaned in, his calloused hands settling at your waist, fingers kneading into the plush curves with slow, familiar ease. His breath brushed your ear, warm and teasing. "Couldn't resist," he murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple.

You huffed, fighting the warmth creeping up your neck. "You're impossible."

"Ya love it."

Before you could retort, Powder piped up from the table, "Y/N! Vi’s stealing Mylo’s toast again!"

You sighed, slipping out of Vander’s grasp as you turned back to the chaos of breakfast. "Vi, knock it off!"

Vander chuckled, watching you go with a look of pure devotion before finally joining the kids at the table—like he hadn’t just been caught red-handed.

Yeah. This was home.

SILCO

The Last Drop hummed with low chatter, the heavy bass of the music pulsing through the floor like a heartbeat. Smoke curled in lazy tendrils above the tables, the air thick with liquor and sin. But in your secluded corner—reserved only for you and Silco—the world felt quieter.

Silco’s hand rested possessively on your thigh, the leather of his glove warm against your skin. He was always touching you, always anchoring you to him in some way. A silent declaration. A warning.

You lifted your glass to your lips, savoring the burn of the whiskey. Across from you, Silco swirled his drink, his mismatched eyes half-lidded as he watched you. It was a rare thing, moments like this, where the chaos of Zaun could not touch you.

Then the peace shattered.

A drunken fool stumbled toward your table, glass sloshing in his grip. His eyes, bloodshot and unfocused, zeroed in on you.

“Didn’t know Silco had a thing for—” The man hiccuped, then laughed, his gaze dragging over your form. “—soft women.”

Your jaw tightened, irritation prickling beneath your skin. Before you could react, Silco’s fingers twitched against your thigh. The shift was minuscule, but you knew what it meant.

Danger.

Silco leaned back, exhaling slowly through his nose. “Do finish that sentence.” His voice was soft, almost inviting, but the undertone was razor-sharp.

The drunkard blinked, suddenly aware of the weight of his own words. “I—I just meant—”

Silco moved before the man could stumble out an excuse. His grip left your thigh, and in a blink, he had the fool by the collar, dragging him closer with deceptive ease.

“Tell me,” Silco murmured, his lips ghosting the man’s ear, “do you have a death wish, or are you simply too stupid to recognize one?”

The man stammered, sweat beading at his temple. “I—I didn’t—”

“You did,” Silco interrupted. His free hand—knife-sharp fingers wrapped in leather—came up to press against the drunk’s throat. Not hard. Not yet. Just enough to make the man’s breath hitch. “And now, you will pay for it.”

A sound like a whimper escaped the man’s lips. The Last Drop wasn’t silent, but the patrons nearby had stopped pretending not to watch. Everyone knew how this would end.

You exhaled slowly, setting your glass down with a quiet clink.

“Silco.” Your voice was calm, but it held weight.

His grip tightened for a fraction of a second before he sighed through his nose. His irritation was palpable. But he listened.

With a shove, he sent the man sprawling to the floor. “Crawl away,” he sneered. “Before I change my mind.”

The drunk scrambled backward, his face pale, and scuttled into the crowd.

Silco exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders before turning back to you. He settled into his seat as if nothing had happened, his hand finding your thigh again, gripping it a little firmer this time.

You traced the rim of your glass, watching the whiskey catch the dim light before turning your gaze back to him. “You let him off easy.”

Silco hummed, swirling his drink before taking a slow sip. “Because you asked me to.”

You studied him for a moment, taking in the sharpness of his features, the tension still lingering in the line of his shoulders.

Then you leaned forward, resting your elbow on the table as you smirked. “He’s nothing but a drunken fool, love,” you murmured, voice warm with amusement. “Not worth the clean-up.”

Silco’s gaze flicked to you, that keen intelligence behind his mismatched eyes sharpening. He turned his glass slightly between his fingers, considering your words.

You continued, tone softer now. “A man like that… he doesn’t deserve the energy it would take to dispose of him. He’ll wake up tomorrow reeking of piss and regret, and he won’t even remember why.” You tilted your head, your smirk growing. “Now, that’s a fate worse than death, don’t you think?”

Silco chuckled, low and indulgent, his fingers tightening on your thigh. “You’re far too merciful.”

You arched a brow. “No, I just know the best way to make a man suffer.”

Silco let out a quiet hum of approval, his grip lingering as his thumb brushed absentmindedly over your skin. The warmth of his touch, the silent claim, was intoxicating.

He glanced at you, and for a moment, his expression softened, the hard edge of him melting just enough. “No one,” he murmured, voice like velvet, “speaks to you that way and walks away unscathed.”

Your fingers brushed against his jaw, tilting his face toward you. “I know.”

And when his lips curled into that knowing smirk, you knew—no matter how dangerous the world was, with Silco, you would always be safe.

CLAGGOR (AU)

The dim glow of Zaun’s flickering streetlights barely reached the small hideout where you and Claggor had tucked yourselves away for the night. The world outside was alive with the hum of machinery, the distant rumble of pipes, and the occasional shouts from a gang fight somewhere in the underbelly of the city. But none of it mattered. Not when Claggor had you wrapped up in his arms, his big hands roaming over your soft curves like he was memorizing every inch of you.

You lay sprawled on the bed, tucked against his broad chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. The sheets were thin, but Claggor’s body was warm, his grip firm but gentle as he held you close. His scent—gunpowder, metal, and something faintly sweet—wrapped around you like a comfort you never wanted to leave.

“Damn, I love this,” he murmured against your hair, voice thick with contentment. His fingers trailed lazy circles over your stomach, kneading the soft flesh like he couldn’t get enough. “Love how soft you are.”

Your cheeks burned at the way he said it—gruff, reverent, like it was a secret only for him to cherish.

“You say that every time we cuddle.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s true every time,” he rumbled, a lazy grin spreading across his face. He dipped his head to press a lingering kiss to your temple, the heat of his lips lingering as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. His arms tightened around you, his fingers wandering over the dips and curves of your body, mapping them out with slow, appreciative touches.

There was something about the way he touched you—like he was fascinated, obsessed with how perfectly you fit into him. His hands never stayed in one place for long, tracing along your waist, dipping lower just to squeeze at your plush thighs before drifting back up. His fingertips skimmed the underside of your belly, then up to your sides, his palms pressing into every soft part of you as if reassuring himself you were really there.

“I swear you’re ridiculous,” you muttered, trying to suppress a smile as he gave your hip a playful squeeze.

Claggor chuckled, the deep sound vibrating through your entire body. “Maybe,” he admitted, shifting slightly so he could press his forehead against yours, “but I got the best spot in Zaun right here. Ain’t nothing better than holding my girl.”

Your heart clenched at the pure adoration in his voice. He meant it. No hesitation, no second-guessing—just Claggor and his unwavering love.

You sighed, melting further into him, and let yourself relax. “You’re such a sap.”

“Only for you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. His hands didn’t stop exploring, sliding up your back, fingertips ghosting over your spine before traveling down to squeeze at the plushness of your hips. His thumbs stroked along your skin absentmindedly, as if every inch of you was something to be adored.

Outside, the city rumbled on—pipes hissing, gears grinding, neon signs buzzing faintly in the distance. But inside this little hideout, it was just the two of you. His warmth, his touch, his whispered words grounding you in a way nothing else could.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, lips brushing against your cheek, voice hushed like he was afraid saying it too loud might shatter the moment.

You buried your face against his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of oil and iron, of home.

“Always.”

And with the steady heartbeat of the only person who ever made you feel truly safe, you drifted off to sleep in his arms.

[taldigi]

You have any feelings on the p4 valentines? Either the valentines dates themselves or the rejection scenes

Not particularly, nah. I'm not a huge fan of the available romances. I know the protags are supposed to be heartbreakers to an extent, but almost none of the girls feel truly close enough to them to really make me interested in a romance between them and their protag. (Aigis, mmmaybe Yukari, and... Yoshizawa are the only characters I feel had particularly appealing chemistry.) (which is double odd because almost all of femc's romance options are really nice? I digress, back to p4-)

I guess it's interesting to hear a bit about how the some of girls envision themselves in the future (with Yu)(rise's is interesting because she talks about wanting to go to college and get married on an island one day and thats cool of her) and if you held me at gunpoint I'd say Yukiko's is overall charming with the big box and the "welcome" banter. the idea of "Yu Amagi" seems fitting tbh (the way things work with ryokan families is very interesting!) even if it's not my ship of choice (for her or yu)

On the other end, Naoto's romance overall feels weird and not great to me. mondo bad vibes. I dont like a lot of the choices made for their route and the valentine scenes even moreso.

as for the rejection scenes? They're not bad on a writing scale, but I reeeeallllyyy dont like Asshole Yu simulator. It feels awful- and I only watched the video! LMAO!

[who-the-fuck-are-you-bruh]

[baronessofmischief]

Rebel Moon on Netflix is sooooooo soso bad guys 😂 like at least there’s space Charlie Hunnam with a Scottish accent and sometimes the main character has a flashback where she has a better haircut AND there’s a sibling duo who have the best costumes in the movie but the story? The script? The movie structure? Cohesiveness? Absolutely terrible. And there’s still 45 minutes left

[dollwrites]

ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ ｔｙｐｅ ┊ v-day weekend blurbs ( caleb )

ｃｏｎｔｅｎｔ ｗａｒｎｉｎｇｓ ┊ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, mirror sex, exhibitionism ( filming ), caleb gets rough, size kink, praise kink, stand-fucking, all characters featured are aged 18+

ｉｍｐｏｒｔａｎｔ ┊ i stared at caleb doing one handed pushups for like a minute solid and hit a blinker. here’s the result. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

“Hey, no moving…” you murmur in a pointed, accusatory tone the very moment you feel Caleb’s hips buck forward. your breath caught in your throat as he does; his cock notching another inch into your silken core none-too gently. “I told you to let me do it.” puffing out your lower lip in a childish pout, you cast a glance over your shoulder, peering up at a grinning Caleb, raising both arms, palms out in mock defeat.

you blinked, needing to pause to look over his countenance. sweat-dampened brown tendrils stuck to his forehead and against his temples and the very edges of his cheeks. speaking of his cheeks, there were violet in hue, with diamonds of perspiration glistening against the apples. his jaw slung, swollen lips parted to accommodate his heavy breathing, you could even see the vein on the side of his neck bulge and throb when you clench up, milking his cock in a warm vice.

“What’s the matter? Do I play too rough for your movie?” he challenged with a smile.

“Always,” you reply, squirming on your feet to welcome in his fresh, thick inch. it took some stirring, and a whole lot of primal pleasure as his heavily veined cock rubbed against your sensitive, spongy walls, to find a comfortable enough position for you to keep going. the hand gripping your phone tightens it, and you look back to the mirror, standing less than six feet from it, to ensure the angle was still perfect. you raise the phone just a quarter of an inch higher, and spread your legs wider. “I want it to be… pretty.” you settled on an almost laughable adjective, but it seemed the most fitting, as you glance up at him from the glass. the two of you lock eyes, and you shudder at the eroticism of it all. you were clad in lacy lingerie ( though, however skewed it may be, it still counted ), your makeup done, and you had chosen the best possible setting and position to ensure that you would be able to review the footage while you railed yourself on his cock— looking into the mirror. but, it wasn’t simply for your own vanity, and you remind him of that as you start to move again, pushing your ass back and forth to take the familiar inches. “You know,” you continue, trying to be as casual as possible as you explain, though your sentence is continuously marred by choking gasps and happy moans, “f—for when you’re away in Skyhaven— shhh—shit! — you’ll have something… ahhh… nice to watch…!”

“Sorry, baby girl,” his words were thick and slurred with the ever-so-subtle etching upwards of his mouth in a crooked grin. “Just couldn’t help myself, wanted to get that cute, lil��� yelp outta you. Won’t happen again, promise.” but even as he drew a cross over his heart, you could still see that twinkle of mischief in his eye. one of your brows quirk up, as if to say: i don’t believe you, and Caleb reads it immediately. with a husky chuckle, he shook his head. “Lil’ thing’s so damn suspicious.” however, he still hooked his arms behind his back in submission. widening his own, already imposing stance, you feel like a worm dangling on his hook between the gap he provided. then, he straightened his back, standing at attention. his biceps bulge, the hard and thick muscle pads of his arms dancing beneath his skin as he flexes them, more for you than anything else. it was a silent reminder of his strength— the power he was willingly giving up to you. “There, that better, baby?” he asked, his gaze softening as it roved over your back. the clasp of your bra was still held together, even though the shoulder straps had been discarded, and the weight of your breast spilled out of the loosened cups, swaying hypnotically with every move you make. still, that clasp taunted him, and he had the sudden and wicked urge to lunge forward and unclip it with his teeth rose to the surface of his resolve. he resigned, however, grinding his teeth together as his eyes followed the shape of your spine downward, instead.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he praised quietly, his brows knit close together. your pace was slow enough to frustrate him beyond measure, a steady rhythm that was a sweetly agonizing form of torture he’d only ever endure for you. “Takin’ my big cock just how you want it,” Caleb let out a low growl. against the small of his back, his fingers twitched and jerked with the desire to grip your hips tight enough to leave their shape imprinted in your skin. he shook away the thought, and clenched his fists tightly. “Fuck yourself on me, baby girl, take whatcha need.. Ah-hah, that tight, little cunny ready for another inch? Because I’m dyin’ to give it to her.” Caleb’s thighs tightened, a dull tingle settling against the base of his spine.

“You’re already so deep,” you whine back, glancing down between your legs. your cunt drooled as you speared yourself on to Caleb, over and over, and you use your free hand to dip between your thighs and scrub at their apex, strumming your swollen clit to the same speed of your riding, mewling in pleasure. “I— I can cum, just like this…” you trail off, your eyeline fluttering back to the phone screen. you could see the contortion of pleasure on your own face, and you had to admit, it was sexy to watch yourself get closer and closer. you had no doubt that Caleb would spend many a lonely night, watching this video over again, gripping his greedy cock and wishing to feel your tight cunt instead.

“Lil’ fucking tease…” he growled into your hair on the crown of your hair. the scent of your shampoo still lingered there, and it made his eyelids flutter. “I need more.”

and just like that, your control of the situation, and of Caleb, dissipated. he sucked in a ragged breath, large hands releasing themselves from their subservient position and grope at your thighs, hooking against the backs of your knees to sweep you off your feet.

“Caleb!” yipping in surprise, your phone slips from your grasp and clatters on the floor between his feet. fortunately, with this new angle, the video captures the visage of you, spread open, and Caleb already rutting like a man possessed into you. his balls, though tight with impending orgasm, are still heavy enough to spank against your clit as he pulls your body down to meet his rabid thrusting. “That’s—!”

with your knees dug into your own chest, your eyes follow the shape of your spread legs, and the mesmerizing, helpless flop of your stocking-clad feet in the air. it felt good, really good, to be fucked so animalistically, to be locked against his powerful body, at the mercy of his whims.

“Just hush up and take it now, baby girl. You’ve had your fun,” Caleb chuckles as he lowers you down to meet the upward pounding, his hips snapping against yours. “— made your cutesy, lil’ video, you got to ride for a lil’ bit, but now you get to just sit pretty and take exactly what I’m gonna give ya.” Caleb pulled you flush to his lap, burying himself balls-deep in your weeping cunt with a happy snarl tearing through his throat. his eyes flick to the mirror, “Look how precious you are, all dolled up, gettin’ ruined, all for me?” your gaze follows his, and your cheeks warm as humility rises within them. he’s right, though. even you couldn’t help but be wooed by your fucked-out state, babbling as he bounces you up and down on his cock. then, Caleb chuckles, a rough and strangled sound in comparison to his usual timbre. his gaze had listed downward, to catch the sight of the camera on the floor, capturing your decimation from a most sordid angle. “Oh, fuck yeah, I’m gonna love watchin’ your puffy, lil’ pussy get stuffed full from this angle.”

[creamecafe]

I haven’t seen many fics about player 333 yet (Myunggi) 😔 Could you do maybe an enemies to lover type story with him!!!

Wicked Game | Myung-Gi Pt. 1

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: You're stuck in the squid games fighting for your life. It also doesn't help that you are stuck with a wanna be rich scammer fraud.

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Myung-Gi x GN!Reader (No pronouns used)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: enemies to lovers, hurt

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝:

𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎: Thank you so much for requesting. I hope you enjoy this! Also the reader is an ex of Myung-Gi before the games. Please understand I don't HATE Kim Jun-hee, I just thought it would fit more for enemies to lovers. I also believe I may put this into two parts as the 3rd season is yet to come

If you would like to be tagged for the next part, let me know in the comments down below and I'll add you to the list!!

Want a request for a Squid Game character like this one? Check out my latest post, read my request guidelines and send a request!

Read on Wattpad & AO3 here

Joining the squid games could possibly be the last thing any person with common sense and a reason to live would consider doing. Unless they either had none.

That's what it looked like for you. The games you had to do to win 45.6 billion won had you either questioning if it's still worth it to still keep going or just to end it all on this island.

Out of all the people in these games, there's one face that you despised seeing and wondered how he's still alive after what he did, Myung-Gi.

He's your ex boyfriend. Being with him was great at first, but once he was invested in the crypto coin thing business, it felt like you're being cheated on. It also didn't help that he had an affair behind your back with a girl named Kim Jun-hee who turned up pregnant.

You didn't hate Kim Jun-hee, as you felt bad for her that your ex abandoned her and their baby, but the whole thing hurted you.

There's nothing more you wanted to get out of here with enough money to move to another place and start off fresh.

When you first woke up in the dormitory with all the other players, you wondered where this possibly could go. You looked around to see so many unfamiliar faces.

Then a man in a pinkish red suit all the way across the room wuth a black covered mas with a white triangle comes out from double doors and starts explaining why majority are here. Because of their debts.

They showed different videos of people playing Ddakji and getting slapped in the face. There was one face you recognized, your ex. It wouldn't be surprising that he was in debt for trying to chase after the crypt coin thing.

It looks like you're not the only one who hated him, many people who fell for the crypto coin were also mad at him. A purple-haired guy stood out from the rest, as he was a rapper you heard from others who were apparently fans. You had no interest in him or your ex but were wondering what the whole ordeal of winning money is.

You had to sign a waiver for the games, and you were soon directed to take pictures. It was rough enough. Then you would have to climb stairs that seemed like you were going to Mount Everest. You saw your ex from the right side across. You also didn't want to risk being seen.

Finally, you reached the first game after what seemed like an eternity. There was a huge robot doll and the whole layout was supposed to imitate a school playground with its blue sky and sand ground.

"Hey there pretty" You turn around and see the purple haired guy who was talking to your ex

"Who are you?" You exclaimed looking him up and down not in the mood to be hit on.

"I'm Choi Seung-hyun, Thanos for my music. You might of heard my raps before?"

"If I did, I probably would want to be deaf right now. Including not hearing this conversation."

He pretended to be hurt and put a hand over his heart.

"Ouch girl. Cold aren't you?"

You rolled your eyes. He sees another girl walks by and also tries talking to her. Poor girl, you thought.

"Y/N?" You hear your name being called and look around.

"Y/N!" A hand fell on your shoulder and you flinched turning around.

It was Myung-Gi. Your panic turned into annoyance as you rolled your eyes again.

"What are you doing here?" He asks

"Should be asking you that too, but I think it's obvious."

"Can we please talk?"

"What's there to talk about Myung-Gi? You chose a cyrpt coin over me and cheated on me, and got another girl pregant"

"And I regret it very much. Please come back."

"Share those regrets with the others in here too, including the mother of your child."

He tried to reply back but you walked away from him, ignoring him.

Speakers came on, explaining the rules of the game.

A screaming man came into the front and said it's not what we think the game is. He exclaims that if you move, you'll die.

People around you scoffed and found the man crazy. It seemed like to you he was crazy too, but what if he was right?

He was still screaming telling people not to move a muscle when the game starts.

The robot started turning around and putting her hand up to the tree to not look at the other player.

It started singing.

"Everyone freeze!" The man in front says.

Nobody moved a muscle. Your eyes looked around and saw no one moving. What if the guys telling the truth?

The doll looked away and you started moving forward quickly along with everyone else.

"Everyone freeze!" Yelled again the older man.

There was a scream coming from a girl who moved. She laughed exclaiming she just moved. A bullet came through her head and she dropped dead.

The guy really wasn't lying then. One wrong move, you're dead. More people started moving and more gunshots were coming.

Bodies were dropping. People are screaming. This was a bad idea to be here. You were also pretty sure you were going to die with your ex boyfriend. That another cherry on top to add.

"If you don't make it to the finishing line on time, you'll also die." The man yells but has his mouth covered like he was going to take a sneeze.

It felt impossible to win this game. You were so sure you were going to win money but now the only thing you could be winning is death. You wanted to see if Myung-Gi was still alive.

But you couldn't risk being shot. Everyone sooned formed into a single file line. The man explained that the doll can't see what's behind a person if there's a bigger person in front.

More gunshots came. More bodies dropping. You couldn't stop now though. You're close to the finish line, you can feel it.

You soon reached the finish line relieved that you made it alive. You looked around for Myung-Gi to see if he's alive.

Why do you care so much about him? You thought to yourself.

It's just basic human sympathy you thought. Hating him is one thing, but him dying is another.

The game ended and you witnessed the man who warned about the game, you see his number was 456 and another, a woman helping a man who got shot in the leg reach the finish line get shot in the head.

This isn't just a game. This life or death. Everyone including you who passed were allowed to go back to the dorms.

Zoned out walking, seeing bodies and blood, you hear your name being called.

"Y/N!"

Turning around to see who called your name, you see Myung-Gi run up to you.

"Hey, are you okay?"

A light smile came from your face.

"Yes I'm alright and you?"

"Alive thank God." He chuckled.

You chuckled lightly but didn't know what to say after. Usually, you would have something smart to say to him but after what happened, you wanted nothing more to be out of here.

There were yelling and shouts to how the man knew they would shoot if you lost the game. They were accusing the man of being behind the game.

A pink guard then came out and congratulated us for completing the first game. It then if a majority voted to O, you could leave the game.

Everyone chose their own sides O and X. You chose X, even though you desperately wanted the money to be able to move to another city. You see Jun-Hee, his other ex, chose X too. Myung-Gi chose O, which you weren't surprised.

Unfortunately there were more O's than X's which meant you had to stay. You were heartbroken but also upset and turned to Myung-Gi. Now you wish he died in the first game.

You went up to him and turned him around aggressively and slapped him across the face. People looked at you guys, but you didn't care.

"You're really that selfish, you had to choose O?"

"Y/N-"

"The mother of your child is in this game and you choose O. I should have known from the start dating you was a bad idea. If these games don't kill you, I will."

You stormed off away from him and went to your bed. Myung-Gi probably thought you were bluffing about you killing him.

Something deep down you wanted to keep that word true.

It looks like you'll have to wait and see the next day.

𝙽𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 | 𝙼𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝚂𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚍 𝙶𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝙹𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝!

[daycourtofficial]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part three

Pairing: Eris x reader x Azriel | WC: 3.3k | warnings: general angst, some violence

Summary: after a week of avoiding talking to him, Azriel invites you out for a meeting that only leaves you with a more urgent sense of jealousy

Author’s note: happy new year’s eve!! I know it hasn’t been too long since the last part, but I wanted to spread some holiday joy! This year has been awful but my time online and the friends I’ve met through here have been so lovely and kind and you guys have gotten me through a lot do here’s some pain!

Last part | Next part | Masterlist

Your conversation with Nesta left you reeling, some deep part of you rattled at her words. A deep loneliness settled in you after she left, a swirling storm of anger and jealousy threatening to fester into a hurricane out on the balcony.

‘He’s a challenge on his best days.’

Why had the Mother given her most loyal follower a mate who was so difficult? Weren’t mates supposed to be a blessing?

Rhys and Feyre, Nesta and Cassian - they all had their own fair share of turbulence. You remembered the stories from Mor about Feyre throwing her shoes at Rhysand, or Nesta’s seemingly complete apathy around Cassian.

The journals left you confused, both smitten and giddy and a deep questioning of should it be this hard? Azriel and Eris had already seen the worst of each other and still chose and defended their bond. Would the same be said of you if Azriel saw your faults? Or would one flawed mate be enough for him?

Would another fae be able to look past your status as a second choice? Would you be able to even look at other fae if Azriel rejected you?

It had only been a few weeks since the bond had snapped for you, but in that time you didn’t notice other fae. They were just background characters, no one in particular ever catching your notice.

Except Eris. That was nothing though - merely Azriel’s feelings about him swirling within you.

None of it made any sense, your body subconsciously leaving the balcony and moving to find Azriel, repeating to yourself that an answer laid in one of his journals. You stopped by your room to gather the journal before following the bond to find the shadowsinger alone in the library. He looked incredible - his large wings stretched out over the black leather, the definition of his body evident through his loose fitting clothes. He was hunched over a small table, flipping through a book and jotting things down on the paper next to him. All your time spent reading this past week made his handwriting a familiar sight.

“Hi Az.” You stopped before him, presenting him with your most recently finished journal. This one had contained much the same - fighting between Eris and Azriel, occasional snippets about Cassian and his drunken antics. It seemed Eris and Azriel were in a constant cycle of never getting too close, one or the other always finding some fault to keep their distance.

He accepted it wordlessly, the replacement journal ready in his lap. How you hadn’t noticed it says more about the focus of your attention than you would like.

“Expecting me?”

“You usually find me around this time.” He huffed, the slight smile on his face enough to know he’s being light hearted. You took the new journal, about to turn on your heel when you spotted the empty chair next to Azriel. You waited a moment, turning back to find him still looking at you. Your chest felt tight with vulnerability, looking back to the empty chair, something inside of you begging to sit in his presence.

It felt like a good sign finding him in the open. You usually found him in his room, his door closed in front of you once the exchange was made. But now he sat on display, his own work spread out before him. You weren’t certain you had ever seen him work so openly.

You took the sign as an invitation, sitting in a chair opposite him, the spine a harsh crack in the silent room. He did nothing more than watch, hazel eyes tracking the delicacy and respect you showed to the journal before looking back to his own notes.

It was silent save for the turning of pages and his scrawling. It felt so warm being in his presence, sharing this time with him. It was so easy to get lost in it that the next time you looked up you realized he had pulled out a fresh journal, scribbling away in it. It was a cleaner version of the one you spent every night hunched over, staying up until the last word was comprehensible to your sleep-addled brain.

“Have you ever done that in front of someone before?” You croaked the words out, throat dry from your lack of water in hours, too afraid if you got up, your return would show an empty room.

“No, I haven’t.” His scrawl hadn’t stopped, and you straightened up, trying to catch a glance of what he was writing, if your name made an appearance. Shadows swirled at the top of his journal, obscuring your vision. You looked at the shadow, a cross expression trying to threaten them. They only seemed to dance more rapidly, in agitation or preening beneath your gaze, you weren’t sure.

“None of that.”

You sank back deflated, surprised you were caught. Picking up the journal once more, you flicked to the page you had left off at, settling back in.

“You’ll see this one soon enough.” The book snapped shut at his words as you readjusted to sit back up.

“I will?” Azriel only nodded, finally looking up at you instead of the pages of his journal. His eyes darted around the room before a shadow curled around his ear. Whatever the shadow told him, he relaxed a little, his posture easing into his seated position.

“I gave them to you to understand Eris and I’s relationship. But I think it’s impossible to figure out this situation without getting completely up to date.”

You nearly salivated at the thought of Azriel’s present journals. To know what he’s thought about you this whole time, in his own words, even without knowing about the bond? Priceless.

He had said he had been interested in you, drawn to you.

Azriel smiled, a soft pulsing of the thread around your heart. Tonight had been a step forward - you didn’t want to push your luck and find out if he was pulling the cord tight in reassurance or suffocation. You kept the question to yourself, nestling into the chair and the comfort of Azriel’s scent.

-

Mindless chatter moved across the breakfast table, your eyes constantly flickering to Azriel. It was impossible to keep them off of him, his emotions roiling in your chest kept you up half the night once you had retired from the library. You had been avoiding him for a week now, and the hours spent in his company reminded you of just how nice it was to linger in his presence.

This past week had been an anomaly, one you weren’t certain your friends had noticed or not. Azriel was usually a source of company at some point during your day - a meal, transportation, or just someone to go out walking Velaris with you.

If this past week showed you anything, it was how ingrained into your daily life Azriel had become.

You looked at him again, your eyes lingering on the lack of sleep beneath his eyes. He was tired. You couldn’t pinpoint it exactly- it wasn’t in his face or in his movements. Was it the bond? Was it your late night insomnia that kept him up?

Could mating bonds do that?

“Azriel, what time are you leaving?” Rhys’s question brought you from your focused gaze, waiting to hear Azriel’s response. So focused on Azriel, you hadn’t bothered pretending to even eat or notice Cassian’s glances to his own mate.

“I’m leaving in the afternoon.” Azriel’s head turned to you, his hazel eyes capturing yours in a gaze you couldn’t look away from. Where was he going? You had been so wrapped up in your thoughts you had missed the beginning of the discussion.

“I think it would be better if you came with me.” The table had turned quiet, the clattering of cutlery pausing for just a moment, all eyes slowly directed your way, waiting for your response.

So they’ve noticed this weirdness between you two.

“Are you sure, Az?” Azriel didn’t look away from you at Rhysand’s question, merely waiting for your response. Something in you was drawn to his gaze, wanting to linger in it for the rest of your days. His eyes held such softness, a look he reserved just for you.

And his other mate. The bitter thought made you grimace. Azriel and Eris had something real, something tangible that they fought for every single day.

But surely the moments in the library were also real. Not as intense or passionate, but full of a warmth you had hardly experienced before, a domesticity many would dream about.

“Yes, I will. Where are we going?”

Azriel was quick to answer, one of his shadows nearly muffling Rhysand’s voice so Azriel could be the one to respond.

“I have a meeting with Eris.” You were too focused on Azriel’s face to notice Nesta’s eyes widen imperceptibly on the other side of the table.

-

Your fingers tapped against your thigh, an anxiety coursing through you at the thought of seeing Eris again. He was something - a sharp face, even sharper tongue, decadently dressed. You hated to admit it, but you could understand why the Mother had mated him to Azriel - the two were quite possibly the most gorgeous fae in all of Prythian.

You had stayed up late again pouring over Azriel’s journals. Each notebook left you more and more territorial over him, romance pouring through every page. It was so different from the books Nesta read - the fictitious couple having grandiose gestures, no depiction of how the day to day worked.

But Azriel’s notebook was filled with longing for Eris. Recaps of long conversations they have had, almost word for word detailings of what they spoke about.

They had been together for a little over a century by now. They both fought it - Azriel all but withdrew from his family, avoiding them for over a year while he figured it out.

It took nearly a decade for them to come to terms with it - one of them never quite ready to dive in, both playing the hesitant role at different points.

It seemed one day Eris just snapped. Tired of talking in circles and exhausting every avenue, he went for it. He kissed Azriel and it spiraled from there, consummating the bond. It was a romantic tale of longing and distance and overcoming any and all odds for each other.

A story you had no business playing a part in.

Azriel pulled you from your thoughts, reaching out a hand to winnow the pair of you away. You took it, remembering all too well the last time you were gathered in his arms.

You both rematerialized in a densely packed forest, the trees so close together it was difficult to move between. You steadied yourself against Azriel, hands pressed to his broad chest. Winnowing yourself anywhere wasn’t an issue, but someone else winnowing you left you unmoored, your feet unable to find solid ground for a few seconds. The bond tightened around your heart, the beat of it speeding up at the contact.

“Come to gloat?” Your head whipped towards Eris as you yanked your hands from Azriel’s chest. You didn’t notice Azriel bringing his hands back up, reaching for you, trying to keep you close.

But Eris did. He schooled his features, looking toward Azriel with hardened eyes.

“No, I brought her so we can figure this out.”

Eris scoffed, the sound loud enough to be heard over the bird song high above the group. He stomped forward in a direct path towards Azriel, a trail of smoke in his wake.

His long red hair flowed behind him as he moved, reflecting the light of the sun so beautifully the homes of the Autumn Court could be full of portraits of the male before you and his beauty would still surprise. Your heart hammered in your chest, unable to look away from him.

“I’m sure that’s exactly what you’ve been up to this past week. Trying to figure this out with her, shutting off your bond to me.” The last words came out as a whisper, the underlying accusation one Eris couldn’t bear to say. He looked almost hurt as he said it.

“Er-“ Eris cut Azriel off, pushing his back into a tree, his hands curling into the leathers. Your feet followed the action, a hot sense of protectiveness overcoming you.

“No, Azriel. You don’t get to play house with her and show up here with her.”

“She can hear you, ya know.” You pushed Eris off of Azriel, the male staggering back in shock at your actions.

“How sweet. What a waste of my time to be here if you’re going to tell me you’ve finally picked someone else when you’ve had a century to do so.”

Azriel reached out for Eris, his grip tight around Eris’s forearm. Eris tried to push Azriel away from him, but his hand remained around Eris. He pulled the redhead closer, his thumb slowly stroking over his mate’s skin. It felt so intimate you wanted to look away.

“Eris, I am not picking her. I am trying to figure this out.” Azriel’s words stung, no matter how pragmatic they were. A teeny, tiny part of you wanted to blurt out to Eris about the journals, certain it would send the Autumn male out of your life for good. The action stayed in your mind at the betrayal Azriel would feel.

Some part of you knew something so hurtful would end in Azriel having no mates.

“‘Figure this out’? What is there to figure out? Which one of us you would pick?”

“No!” Azriel’s rebuttal was frantic, his lack of sleep more prominent now in the sunlight. It didn’t stop the sun from highlighting how gorgeous his brown skin was, though. “Can’t you think past your own self for five minutes and realize my soul, my entire being is connected to the both of you?”

The words did something to Eris, causing him to finally look at you. You couldn’t help the heat rushing to your cheeks beneath his gaze, a small part of you hoping he finds something interesting. You straightened, taking the time to look over him as well. It was nearly unfair how good he looked in his riding clothes. His shirt opened just enough to see his collarbone and the top of his sternum, his pale chest decorated with freckles. His loose, billowy shirt tucked into some well fitting trousers, thighs nearly ripping the fabric.

He wasn’t as big as Azriel - a bit shorter and not nearly as broad, but he was lean and strong, and you were certain they both threw each other around the bedroom with ease.

“I suppose severing this bond would mean lifelong consequences for you.” Eris spoke to Azriel, but kept his gaze on you as he walked toward you. Heat crept up your body the closer he got, each step raising the temperature by ten degrees. It was nearly unbearable by the time he stood in front of you, so close you had to look up at him.

Eris’s anger made him more beautiful - the sharpness of his face poised and ready for attack, the red shades of anger perfectly matching his skin and hair.

Heat coursed around your neck, the flames dancing across your skin. You were enraptured with Eris, this moment only for the two of you. You could hear Azriel start to object, but paid him no notice, your full attention on Eris.

“I could end it all now, remove the most painful thorn in my side you’ve been.”

You smiled up at him, overcome with a new feeling of competition. The flames around your neck tightened, but you kept on, stepping infinitesimally closer to Eris.

“If my mere existence is a pain to you now, just wait until I’ve decided you’re worth the effort to bother. You’ve only known me for a week and already I’m worth your ire.”

“Go home to Velaris. Go be a small town healer and find a small town male for you to fake your orgasms with.”

Your jaw dropped and you felt Azriel’s hands wrap around your upper arms, trying to pull you back, but you rooted yourself to the ground, pulling from his grasp.

“At least my constituents will look me in the eye out of respect and not fear. At least my patients know I had to work for my job and that I wasn’t given it because of my father!”

The flames were choking now, your breaths coming in hard and shallow. You were trying to fight it, to win whatever this was, but breathing harder and harder, fresh air a luxury you couldn’t remember.

“Eris!” Azriel all but growled as he wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you into him. You reached up, trying to pull the collar off, tried to get any air, but it was impossible.

“The Mother is absurd for mating Azriel with someone so foolish who speaks of things she knows nothing about.” Eris relinquished his power as you sagged into Azriel’s arms, but Eris cupped a hand around your jaw. His eyes burned with fury and something you couldn’t quite make out, the amber color replaced with the blown pupils of his ire.

“Az, come back to me when you’ve decided the bitch isn’t worth your time.”

Chest heaving, you squared your jaw, a rebuttal on your tongue, but Eris had turned, walking into the trees before disappearing completely into them.

He was everything Nesta had warned you he was. He was cruel, difficult, and maddening.

And if the Mother wanted Azriel to pick one of you, you would do whatever it took to beat out Eris Vanserra for Azriel’s affections.

You’re stuck so deep in your head, you don’t even notice Azriel winnow the two of you back to the House of Wind, the two of you landing in the dining room. You turned to ask him about Eris, to talk to him about how ridiculous his mate was, but Azriel had dropped your arm, winnowing away immediately after. Your hand instinctively reached out for the shadows, but it was too late.

He was gone and he left you here.

You sighed, not knowing what you expected him to do. Coddle you? Tell you Eris didn’t mean his threats? Tell you Eris is a big meanie head?

You shook the thought away, your steps soft as you made your way through the house, a journal calling your name to pour through.

Your adrenaline was wearing off, the grime of the forest stuck to your clothes making the bathtub’s siren song call to you from many rooms away.

“How was your meeting with Eris?” Nesta’s voice found you as you were about to climb the stairs, one foot raised. You spun on your heel to look at her, her face indecipherable. Just his name filled you with anger and confusion once more. How was it him that had received Azriel’s affections?

“He’s worse than you made him seem. Vile and cruel, just like everyone says.” You spat the words at her, not receiving the reaction you wanted from her. Nesta only raised her eyebrows as her nose twitched.

“Are you sure?” Your anger had flared too much to notice her strange tone or the look in her eye.

“I’m positively certain. Anyone having to spend time with that awful, awful male is a saint or somehow even worse than he is.”

She approached you, her eyes lingering on your neck. You weren’t certain if you had scorch marks or not, unsure if Eris’s wickedness scarred. She was quiet as she looked at you, eyes of silver intense as they locked onto yours. You weren’t sure if she found what she was looking for or not before she brushed past you to go to her own chambers, her words quiet in the stillness of the house.

“If you say so.”

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

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[cinnaminhon]

behind the seams | lee minho

idol!leeknow x stylist!reader

➵ summary: as a stylist for stray kids, with your main client as lee minho, you can’t resist dressing him in outfits that fuel your secret crush—tight fits, low necklines, the works. but leeknow knows more than he lets on. suspiciously flirty since the past few concerts, he is constantly teasing you with sly comments and lingering stares. it’s not until you put him in a dangerous outfit does he call you out on it, and boy you did not regret the aftermath at all

genre: smut!! mdni!!

warnings: profanity, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, dirty talk, graphical descriptions of sex, leeknow and y/n go at it backstage, implied also at their dorm, also the dance practice room, eh they’re both whipped. mentions of voyeurism, mentions public sex, discussion of kinks and sexual fantasies but nothing is specified, a LOT of bickering and a hell lot of sexual tension.

wc: 6k

a/n: this is VERY self indulgent. it’s finals week and i came across this one compilation reel of angry leeknow vs his outfits and i had this idea ffsfsfssfs i couldn’t get it out of my head and HAD to write it. enjoy ;) also, UNEDITED

one

you loved your job. you really did! absolutely adored it with every inch of you. being a stylist for one of the biggest idol groups had always been a dream out of reach, so when you were finally extended that offer, you gladly left your previous one to work for stray kids instead.

you loved fashion and all things related to it, even as a kid, you would often dress your dolls up in your own creations and that was enough for your parents to enroll you into design classes. from a very young age, your keen eye for fashion was evident, and your skills only grew with each experience you encountered. after graduating from a prestigious fashion school with your B.A in fashion design, you got the best job opportunities which you loved.

the first few jobs had been tough, no lie, but as your expertise grew, you found yourself designing for luxury brands, and more and more celebrities reached out with personal orders. it wasn’t long before you were transitioning from mere designing to personal styling too, your eye for aesthetics always helping you shine in the field.

immediately becoming a favourite in the area, you had numerous opportunities to work and network with various celebrities, but nothing ever came close to the exhilaration you felt when your company revealed to you the latest offer: be a main stylist for stray kids.

it was like heavens descended on you, god himself knocked on your door and blessed with you with the only thing you’d ever dreamed of. of course styling celebrities was something you loved, but having the chance to style stray kids? it didn’t take you a week to accept the offer and by the next monday, you were at their company, signing the contracts with them.

you weren’t one to give your past up no, you would have stayed in your older position which paid really well and worked with your passion, had it not been for the client in question. approaches from kpop groups were not foreign to you, so when you finally accepted one by stray kids in one go, your boss was really surprised.

“are you sure you want to do this y/n? you’ll still be signed with us should you choose to, but you’ll be expressly under jyp’s terms and conditions. none of my powers will protect you there nor will you enjoy any protection or support form our company. you’ll be completely at their beck and call to do as they please.” she’d said in a concerned manner, letting you know all the pros and cons in a professional yet gentle manner. that and she also wanted to try and retain her top talent.

“i read the contracts, and had my lawyer go through it too. i understand the conditions and i am willing to work with them,” you’d told her, confident and firm in your stance.

this was new, really, and the look on your boss’ face told you just out of character this seemed. no wonder everyone would conspire if there was a deeper meaning, a more suitable reason to as to why you were suddenly accepting this offer after rejecting thousands of kpop groups.your politely dismissed all such rumours, simply citing that you wanted to try something new after 5 years of designing and styling other kinds of celebrities. the kpop scene would be new and you were excited.

so as you sat at the company, your lawyer in attendance. you couldn’t help but bite back the smile threatening to grace your lips. when you finally agreed on all terms and negotiated a few which you could, you picked the pen up and signed on the sheet.

oh really, there was no reason behind you picking this offer at once.

definitely not the prospect of getting to style lee minho up close and personal…. definitely not that.

——

two

you’d been with skz for about 8 months now, and styled them for multiple concerts and a few music videos too. you weren’t sure when your job stopped feeling like a job. it had became a part of your life that you now passionately adored and would never want to change. being a stylist for stray kids wasn’t just about picking outfits—it was about understanding their personalities, their moods, and sometimes the things they didn’t say. somehow, you always understood lee minho the most.

or maybe…just maybe… you liked how good he would look in anything you picked out for him. it was a silly thing really, how much it bothered you that what he was wearing had been decided by you, of all the people, you.

you wouldn’t admit it out loud, but dressing him was your favorite part of the job. every time you chose an outfit for him, it felt personal, like you were creating something just for him. and maybe, in a way, you were.

you spent more time on his outfits than you probably should have. you’d carefully consider every detail—what color would bring out his sharp features, what cut would highlight his broad shoulders, what style would match his quiet confidence. what would highlight those strong, toned thighs, bring out those biceps, his hard chest and his milky neck…. it almost felt illegal to be so invested in your client. it wasn’t just about him looking good for the cameras; it was about knowing that you were the one behind it.

but you were a professional. so every day, you pushed the feelings down and focused on your job—making sure the fabrics and fits were just right, making sure they all looked their best. still, sometimes your fingers lingered a little too long when you adjusted his jacket. and every time he looked at you, you couldn’t help but wonder if he saw more than just the stylist who made sure his clothes fit.

how could you not be absolutely obsessed with that walking god? the way he carried himself had you on your knees, and all he had to do was look at you to have you craving for him. it didn’t help that he liked your designs, even if he didn’t show huge reactions, you could tell it from the way he would take extra care to not ruin the look, stand and sit straighter, keep checking in the mirror to not ruin the style you spent so much time to perfect for him.

and his body oh god, you absolutely loved taking inspiration from the way he moved so gracefully. it wasn’t hard to imagine clothes for him, but you’d be lying if you didn’t admit….you liked putting him in slightly…dangerous clothes at times.

fabrics that would slip, shirts that would be tight at the arms, or necklines that would be deeper than what was defined for them. you couldn’t help it, there was something about seeing an angry minho trying to fix his outfit on stage that had you squirming in your seat.

it started out as a mistake, you ended up giving him longer than usual sleeves and he kept pushing them up his arms, naturally it made the stays go crazy and the fancam went viral. he didn’t say much, just asked you to be careful next time and you nodded. however, once he realised just how much his fans liked seeing him that way, he had other thoughts.

“you seem to know what the fans like” he said, entering the dressing room where the two of you were alone. he had just come back after performing his solo and had to get ready for the next group song. the members all had private changing rooms at their arena tour concerts for ease and privacy during their solo performances, and of course, you were minho’s designated stylist.

“that’s my job isn’t it?” you grinned, noticing that the shirt was doing hat it was supposed to, hanging meekly on his strong frame and exposing his sharp collarbones. you tried not to make it obvious but you were staring. how could you not when he was looking like that in front of you?

“true, in fact, i believe you know a little too much about how to dress me up for the female gaze.” he hummed, taking a towel to wipe the sweat around his neck and walk over towards you.

you looked away from the greek god before you and pretended to fix his jacket. “huh?” you stuttered, ignoring him as he leaned behind you, his chest pressing against your back and you did everything you could in your power to not melt into his hold.

“we both know what im talking about darling” he muttered into your ear as you heard him peek his sticky, sweaty shirt off, throwing it on the table. “come on, you’re so bold with the clothes you pick, what’s wrong now? cat got your tongue?” he teased at your lack of response, taking note of the way your ears turned red and chest raised and fell so quickly.

“i-“ you began, turning around meekly to hand him his next piece for the nest song, ignoring his naked body inches from you.

“it’s okay kitten, i won’t tell.” he mused, a sly smirk on his face as he took the short, brushing his fingers against yours to grab it. “in fact, i’ll let you” he winked, putting the shirt on in seconds and leaving you standing there.

fuck, that man would be the death of you.

——

three

the next time, you dressed him in a pair of pants just tight enough to reveal his thighs, the shape, the tone, the muscle….oh when he stood in that pose before beginning the performance, you swore you felt yourself shiver just looking at him. sure they were a little more tight and firm fitting than what he usually wore but he’d given you permission…right?

you couldn’t count the number of times you’d imagined what it would feel like to rub yourself on his thick thighs, how he would softly grab your waist, kiss your rough and talk you through it sweetly. you could picture him teasing you, smirking at you, making you feel things you didn’t think were possible.

the performance was a huge success, and the boys came back to the room, clapping along with the staff in joy and satisfaction. you greeted them all, celebrating for a while before you headed back to check on what they would have to wear for the rest of the program.

“thinking of other ways to make me appealing to stays are you?” minho chuckled as he entered the dressing room, leaning across the door frame.

it started as harmless teasing—at least, that’s what you told yourself. minho always had a sharp tongue and a smirk that could make your knees weak if you let it, but lately, it felt different. his comments lingered longer and the space between you seemed to shrink even when neither of you moved.

“come here” you said instead, grabbing the jacket he was supposed to put on.

he obliged a little too easily, not before locking the door after him, and you found it strange. no teasing or flirty remarks this time? that was new.

“you like dressing me up, don’t you?” he said, his voice low, almost lazy, as you adjusted the collar of his jacket.

“it’s my job,” you hummed, keeping your tone neutral even as your pulse raced. but you did notice that his eyes followed the movement of your hands.

“doesn’t feel like just a job,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly so his face was closer to yours. your breath hitched, and you quickly stepped back, pretending to fuss over a wrinkle that wasn’t even there.

“stop moving, or the jacket won’t sit right,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

but he didn’t stop. instead, he leaned closer, so close you could feel the faint warmth of his breath against your skin. “maybe you like it when i don’t listen,” he said, his voice just above a whisper, and you froze.

your eyes flicked up to his and there was something darker in his gaze, something that made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t ignore.

“you’re impossible,” you said, trying to sound annoyed.

he just smirked. “and yet, you’re still here.” then he moved away, walking past you to go check himself in the mirror.

your eyes followed his lean body, unable to tear your gaze away.

“you’re staring,” he said once, catching you off guard as you watched him adjust his sleeves in the mirror.

“i’m making sure it fits right,” you lied, your voice a little too defensive.

he turned to face you, his smirk melting into a smile. “is that all it is?”

your throat went dry, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words.

“minho, i—” you began, worried that you’d made him uncomfortable, scared that you’d taken this game too far and had crossed into the like of being unprofessional-

“relax,” he interrupted, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between you. “i don’t mind if you look.”

he reached out, his fingers brushing yours as he adjusted the measuring tape hanging from your hand.

“im your canvas anyway kitten” he winked before leaving the room once again.

——

four

this was a big award show for the kids, and you had to make sure they looked perfect. so you did what you had to, you picked out the perfect black zip up tee that you’d been saving.

minho had been working out, you could tell with the way his measurements changed and the way his muscles flexed underneath your hands when you dressed him or measured him. this tee would be the perfect fit on his body, it would highlight all the-

you stopped yourself from going too far.

as you put it on him, you couldn’t help but stare. it was a little riskier than usual, but you couldn’t help yourself. the way it clung to his frame in the fitting room was almost too much.

you adjusted the zipper just so, leaving it open just enough to give a hint of skin—teasing, but still tasteful. or at least, that’s what you convinced yourself.

“this works,” you murmured, stepping back to admire the way the outfit pulled together.

minho gave you a once-over in the mirror, his expression unreadable. “a bit much, don’t you think?”

“not if you can pull it off,” you supplied.

“it looks like it’s painted on,” he muttered

“exactly,” you teased, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling too wide. “you’ll thank me when you see the photos later.”

it fit even better than you imagined, clinging to his chest and tapering perfectly at his waist. the zipper glinted under the dressing room lights, catching your eye as he adjusted it just slightly.

“you’ve got that look again,” he said, breaking your thoughts.

“what look?” you asked, playing innocent, though you could feel the heat creeping up your neck.

“like you’re too proud of yourself,” he said, smirking as he turned to the mirror.

you stepped forward, tugging along the zipper to adjust it. “it’s my job to make sure you look good,” you said, your voice quieter now that you were so close.

he watched you through the mirror, his gaze dark and steady. “you sure that’s the only reason?”

you froze for a second before stepping back, clearing your throat. “stop fishing for compliments, minho.”

he chuckled, “so... halfway, or all the way up?”

you tilted your head, considering. “halfway. it’s... more balanced.”

“more balanced,” he echoed, the corner of his mouth curling up. “not because you want everyone to stare?”

your cheeks burned “i’m thinking about the aesthetic, not—whatever you’re implying.”

he leaned against the counter, his arms crossing over his chest. “right. sure. just aesthetic.”

“just get out there,” you said, waving him toward the door and he laughed, “okay okay,” he nodded, “i’ll go and perform well in your outfit miss” he teased one last time before walking out to join the group.

oh he was insufferable.

five

fuck fuck fuck….you watched the performance as the song began, and a dread filled you. in all your teasing with him, you forgot to secure the zipper. fuck, no, what if,,, nah, case 143 choreo wasn’t that hard was it? it won’t slip down. why would it? it’s not like minho has a strong dance break in that song….

you were proven wrong right as the final leg of the performance began. the zipper, which you’d adjusted to sit slightly open for a teasing effect, slid further down as he danced, exposing more of his chest than either of you intended. the crowd went wild, the cameras zeroed in on him, and while the rest of the group laughed it off backstage, minho wasn’t as amused.

you were in the dressing room when he walked in, still flushed from the performance, his jaw tight and eyes sharp. you barely had time to open your mouth before he shut the door behind him with a little too much force. you knew the second he stormed into the dressing room that you were in trouble. he didn’t say anything at first, just shut the door behind him with a force.

“what the hell was that?” his voice was low, controlled, but there was an unmistakable frustration behind it.

“the zipper?” you asked, trying to play it cool even as your pulse quickened.

“yes, the zipper,” he snapped, taking a step closer. his hair was slightly damp from sweat, clinging to his forehead, and the way he looked at you—frustrated, intense—made it hard to think straight.

“it wasn’t supposed to go that far down,” you said quickly, reaching for an excuse. “it must’ve slipped—”

“slipped,” he repeated, his tone heavy with disbelief. his gaze dropped to your hands, and then back up to your face, his lips curving into a dangerous smirk. “you’re telling me this was an accident?”

“of course it was,” you shot back, though your voice wavered slightly under his stare.

“really?” he snapped, his voice rising slightly. “because it sure looked like you wanted every single person in that crowd to see me like that.” he moved closer so that he was inches before you.

your cheeks burned, and you took a step back, only to find yourself against the counter. “i was just doing my job,” you muttered, trying to sound unaffected, but the way he was looking at you—like he was ready to devour you—made it nearly impossible to focus on the unholy thoughts wrecking your brain.

“your job,” he repeated, leaning in until his face was inches from yours. his hands came up to rest on either side of you, trapping you in place. “you’ve been awfully hands-on lately, haven’t you? fixing collars, adjusting sleeves, picking out clothes that fit just right.” his hands came to grab the ends of the measure tape across your body, one that you used and hung around your neck.

you swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “minho, i—”

"you what?" he taunted, hands tightening around the tape and he pulled it slowly, deliberately till you were closer to him.

“is this part of your job too?” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. his hand moved to the zipper on his chest, fingers brushing it as he tugged it down another inch, exposing more of his skin.

“minho,” you breathed, barely able to get the word out.

“what?” he challenged, his lips curling into a smirk that was equal parts angry and... something else. “you seemed to enjoy dressing me like this. or maybe you just wanted a better view.”

your cheeks burned, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “that’s not—”

“don’t lie to me,” he growled, his hand slamming against the counter behind you, caging you in completely. his face was so close now, you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his tongue flicked over his teeth like he was barely holding himself back. “every touch, every look—don’t think i haven’t noticed.”

his words were sharp, cutting, but the way his eyes roamed your face made your knees weak. "minho i wasn't-" you stuttered, trying your best to ignore the way your panties felt more and more damp and uncomfortable to be in. subconsciously, you pressed your thighs together at the glare minho gave you. he was furious enough to make you lose your senses, you couldn't even think properly, much less speak.

this scene before you was straight out of your fantasies.

“you wanted attention?” he asked, his tone mocking. “you’ve got it. so tell me—was this for you, or for them?” he chuckled darkly, placing an arm around your waist, holding you tight as the other one came to pull your chin to face him.

“it wasn’t—” your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself. “it wasn’t like that.”

"then what was it like kitten?" he tilted his head lower, lips brushing against yours and you sighed, melting into his hold. "can you tell me?"

"i-" you began, "i just wanted to dress you in an attractive manner-" you mumbled but he wasn't having it. he wanted to hear it, from your own mouth. hear you say how stupid obsessed you were with him and how it led you to do this.

he needed to hear that you wanted this as much as he did.

“you don’t get to play innocent after that,” he continued, his voice dropping even lower. “i saw the way you looked at me when you zipped this up earlier. you knew exactly what you were doing.”

his thumb brushed your bottom lip, and the slight, almost careless dominance in the gesture left you speechless.

“nothing to say now?” his smirk was sharp, dangerous, as his eyes roamed over your face. “you were so bold earlier, picking this out for me. so confident.” he breathed out.

“minho,” you finally managed to whisper, though it came out shaky, barely audible.

“what?” he pressed, his tone mocking yet laced with something darker. “don’t tell me you can’t handle the consequences of your little games.”

his fingers trailed along the edge of the zipper on his chest, tugging it down another inch as he watched your reaction. "i won't do shit to you until you admit it kitten, you're the one dragging this out." he hissed, his hand coming to grip your neck and tilt it back, while his knee pushed between your thighs, rubbing against your wet core. "at least pretend like you're not into this kitten, ive seen you push your thighs together thrice already.'" he scoffed lightly, his touch on your neck sending shivers down your spine. "admit it," he murmured "or i will you here like this, wet, desperate and needy" he hissed in your ear and you broke.

"go on," he teased, the challenge clear in his tone. "say it. i want to hear you admit exactly what’s been running through that pretty little head of yours."

"i...i did it on purpose" you choke out and he hums in approval. “i dressed you up because i liked seeing you in these kinds of outfits”

he lets out a chuckle, his grip loosening as he leans back to get a good look at you. “so my kitten admits it wasn’t for her job, but rather because she found me attractive?” he rose a brow, daring you to disagree.

the sheer confidence, the cocky arrogance had you folding already and you nod, placing your hands on his chest, desperate for his touch.

“there’s my good girl” he smiled, leaning closer. “what do you want me to do then kitten?” he tilted his head, waiting for your approval before he took this far into the other line.

“kiss me minho, please.” you whispered and you had barely completed your sentence before his mouth had descended on yours.

the kiss was hot and heavy, laced with need and desperation. his lips moulded with yours with a strange urgency, as if he’d been dying to have you. his hands clawed at your body, struggling to feel all of you at once.

when you came up for air, he barely let you breathe for two seconds before he was kissing you again, knocking the air out of your lungs.

“mhh-“ you moaned into the kiss, eliciting a grown from the man kissing you.

“fuck kitten, you’re gonna be the death of me” he hissed, pulling away and grabbing your chin to look at the mess he’d made.

your lipstick was smudged, lips swollen, bitten, rightfully so, and covered in a sheen of his spit.

you looked beautiful.

“more- please” you whimper and he obliges, he would be stupid to say no.

“more? what does my kitten want huh? for me to touch her? where?” he played with you, pushing you up on the counter table and standing between your thighs as his hand came to run over your clothed cunt. “here?” he teased, watching you throw your head back and whimper a meek yes.

“aww, haven’t even done much yet” he cooed, pulling your skirt to your waist, eyes locking in on the wet patch on your light pink cotton panties. “fuck, have you been this wet since you dressed me up?” he said, his eyes blown wide with lust.

you gulped, your hands fisted at your sides and nodded softly, and that seemed to make minho lose his mind for he groaned and threw his head back.

“fucking hell” he whispered more to himself, “seeing me in this did that to you?” he chuckled, pulling you closer. “want me to take care of it kitten?”

you could only nod, lost in the situation that you’d wanted for god knows how long.

“not quite yet baby, you’ll have to get wetter for me yeah? show me how bad you want me” he winked, pointing to the zipper and your eyes lit up.

“can i-“ you began

“everything you’ve imagined baby, do it to me” he nodded, pulling you closer by your neck till your lips were against the zip. “use that pretty mouth” he ordered.

your lips wrapped around the zipper, taking care to not touch your teeth because you hated the feeling of metal on them, and pulled it down, all the way down, revealing his naked body before you to admire.

your lip nipped slightly in the process of keeping your teeth away and minho all but pulled you up to suck on the wound, turning it into a kiss that ended with his hands in your panties.

“shit baby, you’re so fucking wet, do you hear yourself?” he moaned, leaving kisses all down your neck while his thumb worked on your clit, two of his fingers curling inside your hot, wet cunt. “taking my fingers so well, i wonder if that cunt can take my cock that well too” he chuckled, earning a deep moan out of you.

“shh baby, don’t forget, we’re still in public” he warned, sticking his fingers inside your mouth to suck on while he pushed yet a third one inside your pussy, fucking you with them both simultaneously.

oh how you loved him being ambidextrous.

“shit” he grunted when you began to shudder around his fingers, and he pulled them out before you could cum, putting them inside his mouth at once to suck them clean.

“mhm, sweetest taste baby, was so fucking worth the wait” he groaned, kissing you and making you taste yourself.

“im going to fuck you now okay baby?” he rose a brow, laying you back on the table.

“please, please minho, i, i cant-“ you began, and he paused, eyes widening as he cupped your cheeks.

“hey hey, you want to stop? did i hurt you?” he asked, tender worry in his eyes and guilt.

your heart warmed and you shook your head. “no no, im fine, it’s just that…could you keep the shirt on while you fuck me?” you asked, tracing your hand down the shirt and leaning ahead to kiss it.

“aw baby fuck, you can’t just- you can’t do that and expect me to stay still” he hissed, hands coming into your hair once you gave him the green light again.

he let you play with him, kissing his chest, biting, licking, all you want while he played with your hair and mumbled how good you were being for him and how amazing you were making him feel.

“is my kitty satisfied?” he asked, pulling you back by your hair and making you look up at him.

“not yet” you pout, and he swears he loses it. how could you be so fucking hot and cute at the same time?

“what else baby?”

“cock.” you pout, a little huff leaving your lips and he swears he lost his mind. “want your cock min, want to suck your cock” you plead.

the shaky breath he takes tells you everything you need to know about how you were on the edge of his self control at that point.

“baby…” he breathes out, “as badly as i want that pretty mouth around my cock, i want to fuck that cunt before i have to be up on the stage again” he mumbles darkly, his hands on your waist as he lays you back. “is that okay with you? i promise kitten, i’ll let you do whatever you want once the program ends yeah? but i’ve only got a little time left and i can’t leave you needy here yeah? i can’t go out there’s without fucking that pussy with my cock after seeing it take my fingers so well baby i’ll lose my mind on stage” he grunts as you nod, letting him know you were okay with him going a little rough and faster than before.

“i don’t, i don’t have a condom though.” he said with a sudden realisation, pulling back to cup your cheek. “how about i just eat you out instead?” he offered, but you shook your head.

“im on birth control,” you said at once, “im clean, i know you are too,” you whisper, “staff privileges” you add with a sly wink and he chuckles.

“i really have quite the obsessed girl here don’t i?” he mumbles a little darkly as he kisses you this time.

“gonna take it yeah? gonna take my cock” he hissed as he unbuckled his pants, leaning down and licking a long stripe over your pussy. “sorry, couldn’t resist” he chuckled before grabbing his cock and placing its tips against your clit, pressing on it and making you whine.

“baby, quiet” he warned sternly as he slowly pushed in, letting his jaw fall open at the pleasure.

your hands came to grab at this shirt on his body, feeling your back arch from the sheer size and girth he carried. “you’re-you’re big” you choke out but you knew that. hey, you fitted his pants too didn’t you?

“but you know that already don’t you kitten? you’re not exactly subtle when measuring me” he cooed, teasing you as he bottomed out all the way, staying there to let you adjust. “fuck baby, you’re taking me so well, so fucking well, just relax a bit more yeah? you’re so wet and so fucking tight i don’t- i don’t want to hold back-“ he grunted, kissing you hard.

“you- you can move” you nod as soon as you feel him get all the way in, he’d worked you up well before and you felt your cunt suck him in.

“ah fuck” he hissed as he pulled out only to push back in, the loud squelch making you both groan. the sounds of his hips slapping against the yours, the creaking of the table, the squelch of your wetness coating him drove you crazy and you couldn’t help but feel your orgasm form earlier struggling to come back.

“min im close-“ you whine.

“already? baby we just started.” he chuckled, grabbing your thighs and pushing your knees to your chest, the angle pushing him deeper and you both moaned at the same time. his fingers came to rub at your clit in tight circles, making your whined get squeakier and your orgasm built up like crazy.

“go on, cum for me yeah? show me how good im making you feel” he cooed, and it didn’t take long for you to feel your orgasm hit you like a truck.

your body shook in waves, your eyes wet from slight tears due to how good it felt and how much pleasure minho was giving you all at once. “fucking goddess” he grunted, staring at you mystified as he kept fucking you through your orgasm, “gonna let me keep going? gonna let me keep fucking this cunt?” he hissed.

“yes, please, need more minho, need you, all of you please” you plead, looking up at him as he went harder, his rhythm losing pace as his own orgasm neared.

“you close min? you’re going to cum for me? cum inside my pussy?” you cooed, watching his expressions contort to one of pure pleasure and he nodded vigorously.

“fuck yes, keep talking to me like that’s baby” he grunted, “gonna fill this pussy with my cum”

“do it, please min, what your cum inside me so bad, want to watch you onstage in my handpicked outfit, with your cum dripping out of my pussy” you whine and that’s when minho loses it.

“cum with me, again yeah? once more please” he moans and you couldn’t say no, not when he was fucking you so good and so deep.

it didn’t take long before the two of you came together, your hands clutching the collar of the shirt as you both stayed close.

“fuck” he moans with sensitivity, slowly pulling out of you and cupping your cheek. “you did so well, so so good for me baby” he cooed, laying soft kisses on your tried face as you tried to catch your breath.

“so did you-“ you gasp, chuckling softly. “did you just tire yourself out before you last stage?” you point out and he just playfully rolled his eyes.

“oh please, my stamina is endless baby. you only saw a quarter of it because i fucked you right after performing three songs in a row. wait till we get back to the dorm and i have you to myself all night” he winked and your brows shot up.

“you want to do this again?” you ask with a slightly hopeful tone and he simply smiled, grabbing a few tissues to clean you up while you laid there.

“of course y/n, i know the order isn’t the best but will you let me take you out to dinner? and then can i be your boyfriend?” he chuckled at the play with words, ironically the lyrics of his own song when that zipper slipped down.

“i could never say no min” you smiled, pulling him into a kiss one last time before you’d both have to get cleaned up and dress him up again.

——

a/n- i hope i wrote it well and you enjoyed it💗

🏷️taglist : @ihrtlix @biribarabiribbaem @alexareawyn @hoes4lino @smlbch @iknow-uknow-leeknow @kissesmellow21 @icantpickabiasugh @wolfs-howling @katsukis1wife @ana-marais98 @lplondynnwoo @yaorzu-blog @still-a-stray @skzworldx @redstayrosie @inaribu00 @millseyes-world @itsacatastrophe-xo @krikalovesstay @harmony0724 @chrizrizz @hantaechan @banjjakbanjjaklurkingagain@emmxxsworld @smut-is-my-therapy @hyunjinsruinedpainting @skzenthusiastt @fairygirl18 @silencionyx @nightmarenyxx @cloudy-lilly @vampiirose @seunmong-in @chuuyaobsessed @0omillo0 @gaby105-skz @ardef38 @madamstay @need-life-motivation @inkandtension @knowytel25 @wh0reforthemarauders @stay1ngsane @skzfairyyydreamz @farfromsugafanfic

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[blueskiesandstarrynights]

They don't talk about it.

But there's no way Nate should know those things. No way the client could have told him, no way he could've figured it out on his own. Not when these things were nothing more than fleeting thoughts from the mark. But Sophie notices him quietly go for the scotch behind the counter and rub at his head in pain with extra vehemence some days despite the latest con having no personal connection to him.

They don't talk about it.

But someone should've recognized Sophie on that con. There's no way she could have that many characters per con. No way none of those diplomats didn't recognize her from any of her previous cons. Not when she didn't change any more than her clothes and accent. But Nate notices her features seem to flicker at the peace and safety of home when she thinks he isn't watching.

They don't talk about it.

But no one could've survived that. And certainly not looking the way he does. There's no way he didn't come out of that fight broken and bloodied to all hell. Not when instead he walks out with a purposeful stride and only a clenched jaw, rolling his shoulders. But when he's cooking and accidentally burns himself, Parker notices the unmarked skin left behind.

They don't talk about it.

But not all vents are human sized. They all saw the size of the vent cover as she exists with a grin. There's no way she could've fit in there. Not when the human body can't bend that way, a way that even the greatest contortionist can't bend. But some days Hardison notices as she seems to stretch and bend before his eyes when she's feeling relaxed and safe enough.

They don't talk about it.

But that's not how computers work. There's no way Hardison could access that kind of thing. Not when he describes how he did it like that. Not when he does it so quickly like that. Not when he says he's taken berries and the next thing they know he's recreated a colonial era journal to perfection. But Eliot swore he shoved a glass of water at him, not more goddamn orange soda.

They don't talk about it, the thing lingering over their heads as they conduct each con, the unacknowledged thing between the five of them that's a little deeper than just a desire to take down the rich and powerful.

They aren't perfect, they all know that- sometimes they're too good with their covers, sometimes they have to shift gears as the con unfolds before them, but somehow things always seem to work out.

But no one asks about it, so-

They don't talk about it.

[etherealising]

one | christmas (baby please come home)

pairing(s): carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | fem!reader x original male character | the bear x fem!reader

synopsis: you reunite with carmy at the berzatto family christmas, five years after your falling out.

warning(s): angst | fluff | pining | semi-unrequited love | minimally edited

wc: 7.8k

READER HAS A NICKNAME BUT OTHERWISE AMBIGUOUS

A quiet Christmas playlist drifted through the confines of the house as three friends sat gathered around the kitchen table spending much-needed time together catching up while building gingerbread houses, the various glasses of wine shared between the three of them lowering their inhibitions. 

“Baby! You’re not even looking at the camera.” Natalie’s slurred words caused a fit of giggles to spill out of you as you held up your dilapidated gingerbread house whatever artistic skills you possessed washed away with all the wine swishing through your bloodstream. 

You positioned yourself once more smiling at Nat’s phone as you held the slowly crumbling house, Pete instinctively leaned over to join you for the photo only for his reindeer antler headband to poke you in the eye. Both of you fell into a fit of hysterics as Nat giggled behind her phone most likely snapping blurry photos. 

None of you could be sure how you’d gotten to the point of being wine-drunk on Christmas Eve. The celebrations began when Nat and Pete picked you up from the airport earlier that morning, the three of you deciding on a quiet night in with a home-cooked meal, followed by a night of Christmas festivities courtesy of Pete which you could never turn down especially when seeing how excited he always got. You remembered Natalie listing off her worries for tomorrow’s dinner as she poured the three of you wine, that first glass somehow turned into two empty wine bottles in no time as the three of you enjoyed each other’s company. 

“Wait, wait we’ve got to get a picture in our matching pjs!” Pete was by far the most sober of the three of you and that was probably how he won the game of rock, paper, scissors that forced you into wearing the set of Christmas pajamas he bought you that were a replica of the ones he and Nat currently had on.

You shook your head immediately, not wanting any more photo evidence of this night, especially knowing Nat was probably sending these pictures to Mikey who would most definitely never let you live down matching with the married couple. “I think we have more than enough pictures.” The words felt heavy as they rolled around on your tongue and you couldn't help but giggle at how slow you felt like you were speaking.

Nat moved around the table to your side wrapping her arms around your neck as she leaned her chin against your shoulder and her cheek pressed into yours. “Pretty please Baby, we only get to do fun things like this a couple times a year when you visit.” She moved her face away to give what you assumed were supposed to be puppy dog eyes but was really just her concentrating extremely hard. “If you love me you’ll do it.” 

You rolled your eyes pretending to be put out by the married couple, not wanting them to know just how much fun you were actually having. While you were thankful for your success and the career you built up for yourself, that meant that you spent the majority of your time traveling and working, and while it was nice to see the world, sometimes you wished you could take more than a quick beat for visits like these. You hadn’t visited Chicago as much as you would’ve liked since moving to the West Coast, which meant you saw less and less of the family that made you one of their own all those years ago. You watched as Nat and Pete struggled to set up the phone in the living room for the group photo, giggling at how they seemed to feed off of each other as though they shared a single brain cell between the two of them.

Nat waved you over once they got the phone set up, “Oh! We should do like one of those awkward photo shoots.” 

You groaned, shaking your head back and forth while Pete stood next to you aggressively nodding his head in approval, the two of them were so goofy together you’re unsure why you ever thought you’d have an actual choice in how this unprofessional impromptu photo shoot was going to go. While you may’ve been inebriated that didn’t mean you were on board with every decision the two were making, but you also loved them too much to tell them no, and as you watched them excitedly try to figure out what pose to go with you figured you could feed into their inherent goofiness just this once in the spirit of Christmas.

Carmy stood in the kitchen of his childhood home watching as his mom prepared for Christmas dinner the following day, vehemently refusing any help when he offered it up but forcing him to keep her company and recount all of his culinary adventures as she worked.

He watched his mom move around the kitchen in an organized frenzy, talking to herself at points when she listed off what needed to be done next. Carmy could already see the weight of the looming festivities hanging heavy over her head, stressing her out before the day even began. While he understood and appreciated her love for food and cooking probably more than anyone considering she fostered that same love and appreciation within him when it came to the culinary arts, he always wondered why she insisted on cooking family dinner every year if it always ended in a mess.

“Oh fuck me!” The loud expletive forced Carmy from the recesses of his mind as he stared in his mother’s direction. “Carm honey, do me a favor and finish decorating the fireplace, the box of decorations is already out there.” 

Carmy stood there a minute longer trying to compute the fact that his culinary excellence was being disregarded and he was being put on decorating duty, “Carmen. Can you do it or do I have to do every fucking thing myself?” 

“No, uh yeah I got it.” He met his mother’s eyes nodding his head up and down in acquiesce, to let her know he had it under control.

She shooed him out of the kitchen returning to her food prep before he even made to move to the living room. Carmy quickly found the box of decorations exactly where his mom said it would be, the house was abnormally quiet he assumed Mikey was at The Beef but he couldn’t be sure he had no need to be near the sandwich shop at the moment and Sug moved out ages ago so here he was stuck in his childhood home with nothing better to do than decorate the fireplace mantle.

Carmy knew however he decorated the mantle his mom would just come behind him and fix it to her liking, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. Maybe if he got it close enough to how she liked she would have to do less fixing. He was surprised to find how calming decorating the mantle was, but maybe that was only because he didn’t care to impress anyone with his subpar decorating skills.

Reaching into the box Carmy pulled out the stockings each one designated to one of the Berzatto siblings. He easily hung the stockings onto the hooks on the mantle before reaching in for the last one, embroidered with a name he was sure he hadn’t seen in far too long a time. Carmy was foolish to think that because he ruined the friendship between the two of you that his family would disregard your whole existence over his mistakes. 

Carmy remembered how hard he tried for the first couple of months after he’d left to get into contact with you, to try and let you know just how sorry he was and how much he missed your friendship…missed you. If you ever gave him the chance, he was sure he’d spend his whole life apologizing for that moment. 

That night would haunt him forever, and his mind made sure of it, the worst moment of his life was on a constant loop anytime he got a moment of calm and quiet. Which wasn’t often but they happened enough for the hurt and pain on your face from that night to be permanently seared into his mind. And when it wasn’t memories of the way the moonlight illuminated the tears running down your face from that night, it was the overwhelming guilt that weighed on him for ever speaking to you that way.

Carmy’s hand traced across the embroidered thread of your name as though passing over it enough times would permanently thread the letters into his skin. He hesitated, unsure if they still hung the stocking long after you moved, a moment passed before he decided he would hang it if only just to catch a glimpse of something that reminded him of you. Carmy maneuvered the other stockings around in order to make space for yours trying to ignore the warmth that filled his chest at the sight of your name hanging directly next to his. 

He was pulled from his daze as his phone vibrated multiple times in rapid succession, he pulled the device out of his back pocket unsurprised to find Nat blowing up the sibling's group chat, plus Richie courtesy of Mikey. He was ready to shove the phone back in his pocket when a message coming through from Richie caught his eye, his heart sped up a bit as he read it before it disappeared off of his screen. 

Carmy was positive he had never opened the sibling's group chat as fast as he did at that moment. Opening the text chain he frowned at the assortment of pictures above Richie’s message doing his best to figure out what the hell he was looking at. The first few pictures were of Pete and Nat and as much as he loved his sister he wasn’t interested in seeing either of them. His thumb began swiping through the photos rapidly unsure why anyone would take so many photos of the same things over and over again. Carmy found himself stopping on one picture in particular, a picture that was neither Sug nor Pete, but presumably, the person who took the previous pictures of the couple. 

There you were. 

Smiling so wide it almost looked painful, a glow to your skin that made Carmy unsure if it was from the phone camera or if you were actually glowing. The picture was blurry but for the most part, he could make out your features, he would recognize you anywhere even after all the time spent apart he would be able to pick you out of a crowd with no trouble at all. That’s how deeply you were ingrained into his brain even if the last time he saw you was when you were a fresh high school graduate.

He scrolled once more the side of his lips ticking up at the same photo this time just a lot clearer, he absentmindedly saved the photo to his phone before resuming his viewing. Carmy’s eyes were always drawn to you when you were in any of the photos, at some point he began disregarding Sug and Pete entirely, giving you his full attention. He couldn’t help the quiet chuckle as he scrolled through all the shenanigans the three of you got up to saving another individual shot of you in front of the Christmas tree in Christmas-themed pajamas with matching socks and a headband with two candy canes in the shape of a heart. The sight of you smiling directly at the camera made it seem as though you were looking directly at him, a blush rose to Carmy’s cheeks at how pathetic it was for him to get so worked up over a few photos of you. He looked at the last photo a moment longer before realization dawned on him, his eyes quickly shot from his phone screen to the stocking he hung up. 

Carmy scrolled through the recently sent messages he missed after staring at the pictures of you so long gathering enough information to confirm his suspicions. He quickly turned on his heel before heading back into the kitchen.

“Yo ma,” she gave a distracted hum which was enough for him to begin his line of questioning. “Is uh…does Baby still come to family Christmas?” 

The older woman stopped what she was doing turning to face her youngest son with the most egregious ‘are you fucking stupid’ look Carmy received in a while. “Do I bust my ass every year preparing seven fishes that nobody ever fucking appreciates or eats?” 

Carmy was unsure if it was a trick question but as his mom raised her eyebrows awaiting an answer he realized there in fact was a right answer, “Yes?”

She shook her head looking him up and down as if he were a stranger “I don’t know what’s gotten into you Carmen, it’s like you're from a whole different fucking planet. Of course, the girl comes to Christmas, we're the only family she’s got left.” She stopped speaking to pull out the pack of cigarettes she kept on her slipping one between her lips before speaking around it. “And you would fuckin’ know that if you came home once in a while Bear.” 

Carmy nodded his head ignoring the last sentence as he let the information settle in, he would be seeing you face to face for the first time since high school, and the two of you would be in the same for hourse. He took his chance to slip out of the kitchen as his mother turned back to finish her prepping. He needed some time to himself to try not to work himself into a frenzy as he thought about what tomorrow would bring.

The Berzatto family home looked exactly as you left it all those years ago, the only noticeable difference was the Christmas decorations but other than that it was still your bonus home, the home you spent as much if not more time in than your own home. 

The home you grew up in sat just right across the street, a family of three began renting it a year after you left for college and although it was weird to think that another family was living in the home that would always hold a piece of you, you were just happy to rent it out to a loving family. You’d try to find the time and bring them a goodie basket or something, you always sent holiday cards, but now that you were in town you could meet them properly. 

You stood at the trunk of your rental car staring at the array of wrapped presents trying to decide if you should bring them all in now or just wait. Your eyes fell on the matte black sleek box, the last-minute gift cost more than it would’ve if you bought it ahead of time, you bit your lip the longer you stared at it only now feeling uncertain about the unwarranted gift.

“You sure you’re up for this?” The voice came from your side, Hayden leaned against the car as he watched you stare at the box as though it personally wronged you.

A small sigh escaped you as you turned to face him, arms crossing over your chest “Not really, no but I come home every Christmas and I can’t stop just because he happens to be in town.” Hayden looked at you like he knew you were lying but decided against mentioning it. “Thanks for coming with me by the way, I know it was last minute…how you holding up?”

Hayden shrugged before looking straight ahead, “Well my best friend has been sleeping with my wife for the better part of a year, and said wife served me divorce papers two days before Christmas so.” His voice trailed off as he gave you a sarcastic smile. “But I would say you’re having a worse day than me so it makes me feel a bit better.”

You frowned, not entirely understanding what he was getting at, causing him to roll his eyes, “Oh c’mon Baby, the kid you’ve been in love with our whole lives is home for Christmas, the two of you never even dated mind you. He broke your heart years ago and for some reason, you’re still in love with the idiot but won’t pick up the phone to tell him, and all of your relationships have failed because you’re too stuck living in the past.”

“I should’ve left your ass at home wallowing in self-pity.” 

Hayden’s lips pulled into a sardonic smile as he tipped his head to you. “Well now we can wallow in self-pity together, you can stay out here in the cold looking at that stupid box, but I’ll be in that warm house drinking all of Miss Berzatto’s good liquor.” 

The front door opening drew both of your attention, your heads swiveled to watch Mikey exit the house and begin making his way to you, a frown lined his face as his eyes landed on Hayden by your side confused at the extra guest you brought with you.

“Why the fuck are the two of you standing out here in the cold.” Mikey’s gruff voice felt like a balm for the doubt that was beginning to eat away at you from Hayden’s unwelcome reality check.

Hayden moved quicker than you anticipated, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. “Oh you know just reminding our girl here that love sucks and it's all a fucking illusion because no matter how much you love someone they’ll always end up fucking your pseudo brother.” 

Mikey’s confusion was evident as his eyebrows pinched together even more, his eyes darted between the two of you mouth opening to speak only to quickly close as you shook your head back and forth as subtly as possible.

“Hey, is your mom drinking yet?” Hayden’s question earned a hesitant nod from Mikey who was unsure if providing her a drinking partner was the best thing to do. “Great…great, well merry fucking Christmas!” Hayden pressed a gentle kiss into your temple before moving to head into the house, clapping Mikey on the shoulder as he went by. 

Mikey moved to stand next to you, the both of you watching the train wreck of a man head into the Berzatto household. “What the fuck is up with that kid?” Mikey turned to look at you trying to figure out exactly what kind of mess you brought to family Christmas.

“Sasha’s leaving him.” You watched as understanding washed over Mikey’s face a small nod following as he put two and two together at Hayden’s weirder-than-usual behavior. Mikey opened his mouth to give you shit about bringing the insufferable kid with you only stopping as you spoke over him. “He’s good people, Mikey, I just didn’t want him alone on Christmas.”

Mikey didn’t have an argument for that. As irritating as Hayden could be he found himself indifferent towards the kid you called friend. Mikey was loathed to admit it and he would deny it if anyone ever asked him, but he had a secret appreciation for the kid, Hayden was there for you during a tough time in your life, he was there for you when you needed a friend or someone in your corner who wasn’t directly connected to the youngest Berzatto and for that, Mikey respected the kid, but it's not like he’d ever tell you or him that. 

“Let me look at you,” Mikey’s voice broke through the quiet that had settled over the two of you, your eyes flashed to his face taking in the facial hair he'd decided to grow out. “All fucking grown up ain’t you. Can we still call you Baby or you too grown for that shit now?” 

You rolled your eyes at the joke Mikey made every time you came home before turning and grabbing your bag from where you sat it in the trunk, leaving the gifts behind and moving to walk towards the house with Mikey, “As much as I regret the nickname I’m not sure if I could get used to hearing you all call me by my first name again.” 

Mikey chuckled at your words, hand moving out to grab your elbow and stop you from continuing ahead. “Relax out here with me for a bit yeah?”

A frown lined your face as Mikey stopped in front of you, you could tell he had ulterior motives for stopping you, his hand moving to take the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket before lifting it to his mouth and lighting it. 

“You uh, you know your little boyfriends in that house right?” 

Your nose scrunched up at Mikey’s words, you could hear the teasing tone in his voice as he spoke but that didn’t mean his words didn’t make your chest ache. Of course, you knew he was here, but not until a week after you booked your flight and Nat gave you some bullshit excuse about how she just didn’t know he was coming home for Christmas. You were upset with her and rightfully so but Pete somehow still talked you into coming and so here you were pretending like seeing Carmy after so long didn’t matter, pretending like you hadn’t teared up on the drive over with your face turned to the window as Hayden drove, quietly reliving every vile word Carmy spewed at you that night in your head. Pretending as though you didn’t carry his words along with the hurt they caused within you for years like they didn’t change the way you viewed yourself and took up space in other people’s lives, maybe Hayden’s observation about you carrying the past around was more factual than you once thought. 

And it didn’t matter that he tried getting back in contact with you his first year in California or that he sent flowers and a card when your mom passed saying he’d come home if you needed him to. None of it mattered because it would never make up for the underlying truth in his cold, cruel words from all those years ago.  

Mikey’s eyes darted around your face watching the small changes in your expression knowing you were thinking about the past, his cigarette halfway gone as he lost you to the inner workings of your mind. He took another puff before letting it fall from his fingertips and stomping it out, the tears lining your eyes forced him to move faster as he tucked you into his chest listening to you struggle to breathe as you fought to keep the sobs from wracking through your body.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay. You can leave right now if you need to and no one has to know you were here.” His hand raised to stroke your head as he gently rocked the two of you back and forth. “Hayden will understand.” 

You pressed your forehead into his chest as you willed yourself to calm down not wanting to make it obvious you’d been crying once the two of you made your way inside although it was probably already too late for that. 

“Why does it still hurt Mikey?”

A deep sigh raised the older man's chest at your words, his hands fell to your biceps gently pulling you away from him. The look Mikey gave you said it all, a look that forced you to face a truth you’d been running from for the past five years. Creating a new life and pretending as though whatever misguided feelings you held towards Carmy were just that of a childhood crush. 

It still hurt because you never stopped loving him.

You were thankful Mikey didn’t speak the words aloud unlike Hayden, you’d already been lectured by him countless times on this subject, Richie even jumped in from time to time to express his discontent. No one could understand why you held onto your feelings for Carmy so strongly knowing firsthand how much pain and anguish they caused you. You were scolded plenty of times about holding onto all that hurt, being told to either let it all go or talk to Carmy. You couldn’t bring yourself to do either of those things. 

But you couldn’t keep living in your head and feeding into the fairytale of you and Carmy forever. You had to move on with your life at some point, and even though Hayden was correct that one moment from your past kept ruining your future, at this point, you were doing it to yourself. Although it was painful and it took some time, the broken record of Carmy’s words from that night five years ago made it just a bit easier. 

“Baby,” Mikey paused on his words trying to find the right thing to say he felt torn every time this topic came up. You were a little sister to him, he viewed you in the same way he viewed Nat. He wanted the best for you, but this wasn’t it and the both of you knew it. 

“Why are you doing this to yourself? I’m not saying you should forgive Carm m’ just sayin’ holdin’ on to all this hurt isn’t doing you any good.” He watched as you looked away from him, the realization clear on your face, Mikey could read you so well he knew you were tired of carrying the grief of that dead friendship around with you. His hands reached out to cup your face the rough pads of his thumb tenderly caressing your squished cheeks. “You’re finally in the same place after all this time, figure this shit out for both of your sakes.” 

An exhausted sigh escaped your lips as you fought the urge to come up with some lame excuse as to why now wasn’t the right time, but there’d never be a right time for the two of you. 

You wrapped your arms around Mikey’s waist once more needing the warm strong bear hugs he always provided to help calm yourself down enough to be prepared to face everyone, but also to signal you were done with this conversation entirely. You pulled out of Mikey’s grip as he gave you a look seemingly asking if you were okay, you nodded in answer, relaxing into him as he pressed a gentle kiss onto the skin of your forehead.

“Alright, let's get you inside before mom comes out here and cusses me out for keeping you in the cold.” Mikey’s hands rubbed up and down your arms to provide you with the much-needed body heat.

A genuine laugh left your lips knowing Mikey’s words were closer to the truth than one might think. Mikey moved to turn around and begin walking to the door but was forced to stop as you reached out to grab his hand. “I uh, I got you something.” 

His eyebrows raised in question, “Awe you didn’t have to get me nothin’.” You rolled your eyes rummaging through your bag for the two presents and holding them out to him once you found them, chuckling as you watched him place his hands over his heart mockingly. You knew Mikey didn’t do well when it came to sentimental moments and the best you would get out of him was a joke as opposed to anything else. 

You smiled holding the heavier of the gifts out to him first, “I wanted to Mikey, don’t think of this as a gift, think of it uhh…as a show of appreciation yeah?” You nodded, feeling your face warm as you let your eyes dart around so you didn’t have to watch his reaction.

Mikey smiled, finding your shyness endearing before tearing into the neatly wrapped paper and revealing a frame, his hands engulfed it from end to end. He smiled at it before you saw confusion etch across his face, “This is great Baby, yeah but uh what the fuck am I looking at?”

You shoved his shoulder before laughing at him and grabbing the frame out of his hands holding it in front of your chest, the glass facing him so he could still see its contents, “It's a trademark certification you dumbass, can’t you fucking read Mikey.” You joked to try and underestimate how big of a gift this was.

Mikey’s brows furrowed before he snatched the frame out of your hands to get a better look at the certificate sitting behind the glass, eyes snapping back up to your face with a look you couldn’t read. You shuffled your feet feeling like you overstepped a boundary you didn’t even know was between you and Mikey, “Don’t worry though I-I, put it in your name, I didn’t trademark it for myself or anything. I just remember how much you all used to talk about this, and I'm not sure if it's something you still want but I…I just wanted you to know I still believe in you. And I…I know how tough shit is lately and I promise I didn’t mean to step on your toes but…Mikey, you deserve good things too okay?” 

You could hear your long-winded explanation become more emotional by the minute but you needed Mikey to know how loved and appreciated he was. He was a big brother to you, always by your side whenever you needed him, he saw you through all the bullshit with Carmy and helped you to get through your mom's death. And when you were hellbent on throwing whatever little future you didn’t think you had left away he was right there with you pushing you to see just how much you deserved to get out of this godforsaken city and make something of yourself. 

“You deserve so much in this world Mikey, and I wish I could give it to you. But you need to know how much I believe in you and how much I love you, I’m always in your corner,” you paused trying to choke back another round of tears. “And Mikey I…I don’t think I would be here right now if it wasn’t for y-.” 

Before you could get another word out you were once again trapped in his comforting embrace, the both of you taking every bit of love and comfort the other offered in that moment. Mikey’s head tucked into your neck as you felt his uneasy breathing through your hands clutched around him. He wasn’t the type to get emotional in front of other people, and feeling a tear of his smear against your cheek as he raised his head from your neck and settled his bearded cheek against yours, you weren’t sure if you had done the right thing by giving him the gift or not.

The two of you stood in silence as you allowed Mikey to have this moment, not wanting to make him feel insecure about you being present while his emotions ran high. When he finally pulled away you could see the leftover sheen in his eyes. He tucked the framed certificate under his arm as both his hands reached up to grab your face, his eyes found yours, 

“Thank you, Baby,” the words were spoken so quietly you were surprised you caught onto them a small imperceptible nod of your head directed at him as you gave him a tearful smile. Mikey placed a kiss on your forehead before he grabbed the frame again and wrapped you in another hug. 

You decided it best to leave the biography you finally wrote, printed, and compiled about him after all these years in his room, wanting him to be able to experience it in private so he could indulge in whatever feelings it brought forth. 

Mikey’s head sat atop yours as your face rested against his chest, ear listening to the rhythm of his beating heart. The hug you shared with Mikey in that moment felt heavier than any other time you had the pleasure of being held in his arms. You’d be remiss not to notice but chose instead not to bring it up to him and enjoy the moment for what it was.

A moment of peace.

30 minutes passed since Michael escaped the house to do whatever the fuck it was he was doing outside. Carmy didn’t know and in all honesty, he didn’t actually give a shit either, too busy helping their mom out in the kitchen to try to give any thoughts to whatever grabbed Mikey’s attention. 

He was focused in the corner of the kitchen making Tiff Sprite to help alleviate her nausea symptoms. Anyone else would have done their best to block out the rambunctious noises going on throughout the house, but not Carmy though, the chaos fueled him, it grounded him. If the house was quiet it would have been too much for him, to be alone with his own thoughts ping-ponging around in his head, waiting for a chance to drown him. So if he had to listen to his mom list off a plethora of things he needed to make sure happened for Christmas dinner to go off without a hitch while he was making Sprite from scratch, he welcomed it. 

He finished his concoction just in time for Richie to walk through the kitchen, the older man trying to figure out how the fuck it was even possible to make Sprite from scratch. Gratefully taking the glass Carmy offered to him marveling at the carbonated drink in his hand.

Carmy nodded in his direction, “Yo Cousin, where the fuck is Mikey. He just fucking disappeared.” Carmy’s head swiveled around the kitchen checking whether his brother was there or not, coming up empty in his search. Richie glanced up before settling his eyes back on the drink in his hand still doing the mental math to wrap his head around what the fuck Carmy just made.

Richie jutted his head in the direction of the front door, “Outside talking to Baby.” His eyes finally focused on Carmy’s in time to see the color drain from his face at the older man’s words, the younger of the two looking as nauseous as the pregnant woman upstairs. Although he knew you were in town he’d gotten so sucked into the chaotic energy of everything that his mind hadn’t given him any time to overthink seeing you all these years later and if he knew Mikey was outside with you he would’ve made sure he was nowhere in the vicinity of your entrance, not because he didn’t want to see you or be around you but because after all these years he still had no idea how to admit every feeling he kept bottled up and tucked away from you. 

“Did you not know she was coming? Your moms invites her to every holiday, Cousin, and she comes every time.” Richie knew the last bit wasn’t necessary but felt Carmy rightfully deserved it, all anyone wanted from the youngest Berzatto was a visit.

“Dudes been out there for fucking ever though, those two idiots probably just standing outside like a bunch of fucking jagoffs.” Richie left the kitchen not waiting for Carmy to follow him before heading to the front door. He stopped moving the curtain on one of the side windows to spot two of the people he considered family and a surprise plus one. He let out a low whistle nudging Carmy’s shoulder who finally joined his side nodding his head to the window. 

“Awe and she brought her little boyfriend with her.” Richie’s words bounced through Carmy’s head like a game of pinball. You were seeing somebody? Carmy unceremoniously shoved Richie out of the way to get a glimpse of his own out the window, the older man did his best to hold in his laughter. 

Carmy looked out the window just in time to see you snuggly pressed into another man’s side, his brain working overtime to figure out who it was before he watched the man lean in and press a soft kiss into the side of your head causing Carmy’s stomach to sink. 

“When did they start dating?” Before Carmy could stop himself the question was out in the open, his voice sounded less curious and more annoyed than it should have. 

Richie knew what he was about to do next would probably get him into a load of shit but he couldn’t help but want to fuck with Carmy, would you beat his ass for it later, probably but that wasn’t gonna stop him from having his fun. 

“Ohh shit, nobody told you, Cousin?” Richie did his best to sound sad as he spoke, fighting to keep his face neutral as Carmy turned to look at him. “Listen, I don't think it's my place to tell you.” Richie raised his free hand and the cup up in defense.

Carmy could feel his heart speed up the longer he looked at Richie, “Told me what?” An apologetic look washed over Richie’s face twisting the feeling of despair deeper into Carmy’s chest. “Told me fucking what Richie?” He did his best not to scream in the man’s face but the longer Richie stayed silent the more Carmy was sure he was going to have a breakdown. 

“Carm…she’s,” Richie paused suddenly realizing that maybe this joke wasn’t as funny as he first thought it once was but he was in too deep now. “Baby’s married.” 

The tightness in Carmy’s chest intensified tenfold as his eyes traced Richie’s face for any inkling that he was lying. He could feel his palms becoming clammy as he tried to comprehend the truth bomb Richie just dropped on him. When did you get married? Why didn’t he know? 

Even if he didn’t want to admit it, he already knew the answer to that last question. You didn’t want him to know, the two of you weren’t those same kids from five years ago. There was no more sharing everything that happened in your lives with one another and Carmy only had himself to thank for that. 

“Don't fսck with me right now Richie.” Carmy was doing his best to hold onto whatever was left of his resolve not knowing if he could realistically spend his first Christmas home in years watching you be happy with some other man. 

Before the older man could admit to his fallacy the door swung open, the man in question walking through the door. 

“Yo, Richie how you been man? Tiff trynna kill you yet?” His voice drifted through the foyer as he shrugged out of his jacket while Carmy forced himself to turn around making eye contact with the man only receiving an indifferent look in return. “Carmen, good to see you home dude.” 

It took Carmy a moment to realize he knew the man standing in front of him, Hayden Ivanovski was always more your friend than he was Carmy’s but the two of them got along decently enough for your sake. Carmy’s eyes flitted down to the hand stretched out in his direction, quickly latching onto the gold band wrapped around his ring finger, the truth of the situation settled heavily inside of him as he shook Hayden’s hand.

“Yeah uh, good to be back.” Carmy restrained himself from physically massaging out the ache in his chest as he stood in front of the man who succeeded where he couldn’t. He let Hayden’s hand go, tuning out the conversation between Richie and Hayden as he lost himself to the overwhelming thoughts swimming through his head moving to stand just outside of the kitchen as he leaned against the wall. There was no doubt about it, you were married, and those hateful words Carmy spewed at you in the backyard of his family home five years ago probably only helped to push you into Hayden’s embrace. 

Carmy heard you before he saw you. He’d been so lost in his self-deprecating thoughts that he hadn’t heard the door open again. 

All of these years, all the skipped holidays, and Carmy was missing out on you. The sight of you standing in his family home helped to calm his racing heart but then he watched as Hayden pulled you into his side, the two of you looking like a picture of love as the man leaned in placing one more kiss to your temple, conveniently staring Carmy down from across the foyer. 

Carmy dropped his gaze from Hayden before focusing on you once more, the tension seemed to just bleed right out of him as he watched you glow in happiness even if caused by someone else. He was so caught up in his staring that he hadn’t realized the way Mikey glanced at him, eyebrows raised like he was waiting for Carmy to make a move he hadn’t prepared for and didn’t even know he could still make. 

He’d be lying if he said the years apart made him forget what you looked like. You were still the same girl he left in Chicago all those years ago except the wand of maturity worked its magic on you, and in his opinion he thought you looked more beautiful than you had in high school. 

Carmy was never one to pay too much attention to a woman’s features, and not because he didn’t care, it's just that he didn’t think it mattered, he wasn’t drawn to you because of your appearance it was just you as a person that always kept his attention. The comfort you brought him, the way he used to feel safe just being in your presence, the softness you taught him it was okay to bask in, and the way you allowed him to be vulnerable and unapologetically himself were what really kept him hooked. But as he drank in your form he learned in that exact moment why a woman might want people to notice the small things, and he made sure to do so as he stared at you from his vantage point staring around Mikey’s body. Carmy was sure he could look at you all day and deep down inside, he knew he would spend most of Christmas doing just that now that a future with you wasn’t attainable. 

He was pulled from his study of you as your voice rang through his ears, the way his name sounded coming out of your mouth warmed his body. 

“Merry Christmas Carmy,” he could tell your smile was forced, but even the fact that he was worthy of your attention at this moment was enough for him. “It’s nice to see you home.” 

Carmy tried not to read into your words knowing you were just being friendly but the way Mikey cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows at his younger brother, he knew he needed to say something. 

The moment was lost though as another voice interrupted the silence that fell over the group in the foyer. 

“Baby, is that you? My goodness, you look fucking gorgeous and you brought Hayden!” Half of Donna’s body popped out of the kitchen finally gaining a spare moment to greet the newcomers. Her words mumbled through the cigarette between her lips, while she held a ladle in her right hand and the left was occupied by tongs. Her apron was covered in all sorts of sauces and whatever the hell else she was in the kitchen making.

Carmy watched as you laughed half in amusement, you and Hayden both waved in his mother’s direction. Hayden gestured for you to walk in front of him as you both made your way to the kitchen. Donna waved the tongs in Carmy’s direction, “Jesus fucking Christ Carmen, take the girl's bag and coat. Don’t just fuckin stand there.” She huffed eyes glaring the longer Carmen stayed glued to the spot. “C’mon Hayden, I need someone to drink and gossip with.”

The man wasted no time tossing his jacket atop the rest of the pile before maneuvering around Carmy and you. Richie and Mikey had dispersed at some point leaving the foyer empty aside from the two old friends. Carmy gestured for your tote, taking it out of your hand before awkwardly helping you to slip off your jacket doing his best not to touch you unnecessarily. 

Carmy tried to match the small smile you gave him as you made to move around him but was sure he just looked miserable. He was surprised as you gripped his bicep before walking past him, “I uh, I actually bought you a Christmas present. So um, find me later yeah?” He watched as you genuinely smiled at him for the first time in years, unsure if the rhythm his heart was beating in was healthy or not.

A concerned look washed over your face at Carmy’s silence forcing the man to hesitantly nod his head surprised you would’ve gotten him anything after all this time. He opened his mouth to speak but settled against doing so, sure he would make a fool of himself, instead giving you a small shy smile in return. Carmy watched you a moment longer, your own mouth opening and closing like his once had before you settled on a simple nod and dropped your hand back to your side, before walking into the kitchen.

Whatever little hope that interaction had given Carmy was dashed as soon as he heard Hayden’s voice call out to you. You were happy and that’s all he ever wanted, Carmy knew he should’ve been happy for you, but he couldn’t bring himself to come to terms with the fact that all of this could’ve been avoided if he had just been honest with you five years ago.

Maybe then he wouldn’t have to watch as another man brought forth the happiness that once used to be reserved for him. 

a/n: well, well, well what do we have here? gonna be honest idk how the bear fandom is doing so this series rewrite may not get as much love as the original, but that doesn't bother me as much as it used to.

some quick housekeeping as we begin this journey once more; ya girl is working full time so updates will be sporadic, genuinely have no upload schedule so please if you read this rewrite be gracious and understand i have a real life outside of fic writing. other than that please enjoy like/comment/reblog it means a lot.

i've missed you all so much please fangirl with me over these two once more! 🫶🏼🤍

[grandline-fics]

Law Single red rose pleaaaase!!! 💕💕

DESCRIPTION: Single Red Rose- When your date goes wrong, they come to your rescue

WARNINGS:  none

CHARACTERS: Law

WORDS: 984

A/N: Part of the Valentines Day Event! There's already so many requests so thank you all so much for the positive response so far. Thank you @obsessivemuch for being the first request and I hope that this is to your liking.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI

————————

The atmosphere in the island was warm and friendly, civilians held no fear of the Heart Pirates at all. From the moment they surfaced the Polar Tang and all through the day as they gathered supplies and stretched their limbs while enjoying the fresh summer air and sun that they’d greatly missed while traveling under water. Taking advantage of the hospitality of the island and its inhabitants, with there still being so much the crew had yet to see and do, they begged Law to stay an extra couple days. Trying to remain firm, Law told them they would only stay on land for the night and in the morning everyone would be allowed the day to explore or shop, using the time as they saw fit but he wouldn’t allow any longer to distract them from their journey. With bellies filled with delicious food and now everyone enjoying drinks, Law felt himself relax in his seat just happy to sit back and talk with the others while still observing his surroundings. 

As he drank slowly his eyes fell onto the table you were sat at. At first he didn’t know why a table with what was obviously a random couple having a date would capture his attention but then he realised what it was. Your body language just radiated tension. Not a shy nervousness that would show in the beginning of a relationship, or a tense anticipation that you were expecting something like a proposal. Your whole body was tense with restrained annoyance. As Law finished his drink he caught you glancing towards the clock on the wall while forcing yourself to give your date a polite nod in response to whatever it was he was saying. You were trying to gauge when you could bail on this date without seeming like the bad guy. From the way your foot idly bounced under the table when the date laughed at his own joke, it was clear you were reaching the end of your patience. Poor you, but it wasn’t his problem.

Law rose and walked to the bar to get a new drink. While he waited for it to be served he couldn't help but have his attention slowly drift back to your shipwreck of a date. From this angle he now had a clear view of your face and now he couldn’t look away, immediately drawn further into observing the interaction you were having with your date. Law watched as you opened your mouth, actually excited for the first time that he’d seen to say something in response only for your date to talk over you. Immediately your bright eyes sharpened and cooled, your jaw tightening and fingers curling into a fist against the table. Honestly, what kind of idiot had you agreed to go out with that couldn’t even pick up on your unhappiness? Were they that self-absorbed? 

His own dark gold eyes watched as your date got up from the table and headed for the restroom, Law didn’t miss the disappointment in your eyes to see he wasn’t going for the exit and smirked. Grabbing his drink he approached your table and came to a stop in front of you. You blinked and for a moment thought your date had unfortunately returned faster than you’d hoped, only to blink in surprise to see who was now in front of you. You’d heard pirates had arrived and you were familiar with this man’s face after having seen it in the papers more than enough times. You wondered if he knew that the photos and posters did not do his attractiveness justice. Deciding this intrusion was a lot more exciting than the torture that was your date you smiled at Law. “Can I help you?”

“Now that’s not fair, that was going to be my line.” Law told you with a small chuckle. “If you’re being held hostage by that guy just say the word.”

“Oh I’ve been warned against this kind of thing.” You hummed playfully. “Offers of help usually come at a price.”

“Can’t I just offer to be nice?”

“Aren't you supposed to be a pirate? Does being nice go against your code?”

“So long as the Marines don’t find out my reputation is safe.” Law explained, his smirk growing as you laughed. Honestly your date fell further and further down in his regard by the second. “So? Need my help?”

“We still haven’t discussed payment.”

“Nothing much, just a walk through the city?”

“Can’t say no to a fair exchange like that. You’ve got yourself a deal.” You conceded, sitting back in your seat. This conversation was the most fun you’d had all evening and you were curious to see what Law would do. You tilted your head when Law set his drink down and took your hand, pulling you to your feet and leading you to the door. “Really? Just walking out is your big idea?”

“I’ve had your date trapped in the restrooms since he left the table. Didn't you wonder what was taking him so long?” Law explained, grinned at your shocked expression. As a precaution he’d had his room ability activated from the second he and the crew entered the bar, just in case any of them needed to make a quick escape. When your date was away he’d shifted the large boxes from the alley outside to block the restroom doors. All Law had really needed was your say-so to continue spending time with him. He dropped his gaze down when you looped your arm through his as you both walked through the busy nighttime streets. “So where to first? You’re the local here, not me.”

“Well the city’s pretty big. I can’t exactly show you everything in one night.” You explained lightly with a smile. 

“Well aren’t you lucky? My crew and I won’t be leaving for a few days.”

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow

[pucksandpower]

Brake Balance

Charles Leclerc x mafiosa!Reader

Summary: something about the brake issues that Charles had to deal with in Bahrain just seems off … so you take matters into your own hands while your boyfriend is none the wiser

Warnings: depictions of violence and minor-character murder

You make your way through the paddock of the Bahrain International Circuit, weaving between team members and mechanics as they go about their pre-race routines. The energy in the air is electric, everyone buzzing with anticipation for the first race of the season later tonight.

You flash your paddock pass at security and head into the Ferrari garage, eyes scanning the organized chaos for the familiar mop of brown hair.

There he is, sitting in his red race suit that matches the iconic color of the Ferrari he drives, focused intently as his mechanics make some last minute adjustments. You walk up behind Charles and place your hands over his eyes.

“Guess who?” You say playfully.

Charles reaches up and removes your hands, a smile breaking across his face as he turns in his seat. “Ah, mon cœur! My favorite surprise.”

You lean down and kiss him softly. “How are things looking for today?”

“Good, good,” he nods. “The team had to change the left front brake duct exit deflector earlier, just as a precaution. But I’m feeling optimistic, the car has been solid all weekend. I think I might even be able to challenge Max for the win if everything goes to plan.”

His confidence makes you smile. Charles has been working so hard, both physically and mentally, to start this season strong. You know a win today would mean the world to him.

“I’ll be cheering the loudest when I see you on that top step today,” you say.

Charles grins. “We’ll see. Still have a race to get through first.”

You lean in to give him a quick kiss and head to the back of the garage so you’re out of the way. The mechanics are in full focus mode now, choreographing their dance around Charles’ car with practiced precision.

Charles goes through his usual pre-race routine — sips of water, reviewing data on the screens, and loosening up his muscles. He’s the picture of calm, but you know him well enough to see the coiled adrenaline thrumming just under the surface, ready to be unleashed once he settles into the cockpit.

The time comes to head out to the grid. Charles pauses before he puts his helmet on, meeting your gaze. You close the distance between you and cup his face in your hands, kissing his lips sweetly. Then you take the helmet from him and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips over the smooth surface where his would be.

“Be safe out there,” you say softly.

He nods, face disappearing behind the tinted visor, and climbs into the Ferrari. You watch as the car pulls away, weaving between other vehicles making their way to the starting grid. With a deep breath, you head deeper into the garage and take a seat next to Charles’ performance coach, Andrea. He hands you a headset so you can listen to Charles’ radio during the race.

“Let’s hope for a good one today,” Andrea says.

You nod, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you fit the headset over your ears. On the monitors, you see Charles lining up on the grid in P2 after the formation lap, Max Verstappen’s Red Bull beside him on the front row in P1. The lights go out and the cars leap forward, engines roaring to life. Charles gets a good start, but Max keeps the lead through the first few turns.

The pack of cars higher up on the starting grid stays bunched up through the first few turns, but then you notice Charles starting to fall back little by little. His lap time slows as Max opens up a gap in front.

“The car doesn’t feel right, something with the front end,” Charles says. Your brow furrows in concern.

Only a lap later, George Russell in the Mercedes overtakes Charles on turn 4. Then Perez in the other Red Bull breezes past not long after.

“Come on Charles, stay focused,” you murmur under your breath. But things only seem to be getting worse. Carlos battles with Charles and eventually gets by, which frustrates you to no end. Charles fighting his own teammate for position is the last thing you want to see.

“Something felt very wrong with this set, the fronts were locking up like crazy,” Charles reports over the radio. Your heart sinks. Andrea shakes his head, equally perplexed.

The issues continue to persist. “What’s going on with my front left?” Charles asks, audible tension in his voice. “I just cannot get out of front locking. Everywhere ...”

Xavi, his race engineer, replies calmly, “We have temperature imbalance, higher front left.”

“How much is the imbalance?” Charles asks.

“Around 100 degrees.”

You grimace. That kind of discrepancy could make the car undriveable. Sure enough, Charles continues to struggle. It’s clear he’s fighting with the car now rather than racing the drivers around him.

“My car is fully going to the right when I am braking. With this I cannot fight, it’s dangerous,” Charles says, frustration seeping into his tone. You chew your lip anxiously. The rational part of you wishes Charles would just retire the car before he gets himself hurt trying to wrestle with it. But you also know that’s never been in Charles’ nature — he’ll keep fighting until the very last lap, no matter what.

Lap after lap, Charles battles to keep the car under control. “I think we can forget about driving now. It’s pulling everywhere,” he finally concedes. For a brief moment, you wonder if he’ll pull into the pits and call it a day. But no, your boyfriend is never one to simply give up. After the radio, through sheer force of will, Charles somehow overtakes George to reclaim P4. You can only imagine how hard he must be having to fight to keep the car in the track.

In the end, it’s a disappointing P4 for Charles while his teammate makes it on the podium in P3. As Carlos is lead to the cooldown room with Max and Checo, you watch Charles, frustration etched across his face as he tugs off his helmet and balaclava. He doesn’t even glance your way before the mechanics descend on him to start looking over the car.

Clearly the brake issues have cost him any chance at challenging for the win today. Most other drivers would have given up even trying to reclaim P4. But not your Charles. Never your Charles. Your heart aches for him.

Charles gets led away swiftly for the usual post-race weighing and interviews. You know from his body language that he’s utterly deflated by today’s results.

While the reporters pepper him with questions, you pull out your phone and scroll through your contacts. Enough is enough — something is clearly not right with Charles’ car and you want answers.

Your finger hovers over the call button as you contemplate who to reach out to. The last thing you want is for Charles to have to fight against his own machine again. A solution needs to be found immediately, and you know just the person who can help.

With a determined nod, you press call and lift the phone to your ear, ready to get to the bottom of these brake issues once and for all.

***

The phone only rings once before a gruff voice answers. “Boss?”

“Hello, Gianluca,” you say. “I need you to do something for me.”

You go on to explain in detail the brake issues Charles faced during the race, how the problems started right after they replaced the left front brake duct exit deflector.

“I don’t think it was just bad luck,” you say. “Something seems off about the whole situation. I want you to look into it, see if anyone on Charles’ side of the garage could have tampered with his car.”

Gianluca is quiet for a moment. “Sabotage, you think?”

“Possibly. I just … I can’t shake this feeling that someone meant for this to happen to Charles’ car. He truly thought he could at least try to challenge Max for the win, then suddenly it’s like he’s driving an entirely different machine. Too much of a coincidence for my liking.”

“I’ll look into it boss, don’t you worry,” Gianluca says. “I’ll go through the team with a fine tooth comb, see if anything seems out of the ordinary. If someone did intentionally compromise Charles’ car, I’ll find out who and how.”

You let out a breath. “Thank you, Gianluca. Let me know as soon as you learn anything. Charles can’t afford issues like this again.”

“You got it. I’ll be in touch.”

The call ends and you lean back against the garage wall, gaze fixed unseeingly out across the pit lane. Your mind turns over the events of the race, Charles’ baffled frustration over the radio. He’s worked too hard for too long to have valuable points stolen away by something like this. If there is sabotage afoot within the team, you’ll get to the bottom of it.

A few days later you’re back in your study after flying home from Bahrain. A knock at the door interrupts your work and you call for them to enter. Gianluca steps in, an uncharacteristically grim look on his face.

“Boss,” he greets you. Wordlessly, he steps forward and places a thick manila folder on your desk. You flip it open, eyes scanning over photos, documents, even what looks like stills of CCTV footage. Gianluca remains silent, allowing you to take it all in.

“I went over every inch of security camera video from the Bahrain paddock and garage,” Gianluca finally says. “And I found something.”

He leans over your desk and flips to a page in the folder, tapping a finger on a freeze frame showing one of Charles’ mechanics.

“This is Tomaso, one of the brake technicians,” Gianluca explains. “I noticed him acting strange all race day. Fidgety. Nervous. He was trying to hide it but his body language gave it away.”

Your eyes narrow as you study the photo. There is a shifty, almost guilty look about the man as he glances over his shoulder.

“I watched him like a hawk after that,” Gianluca continues. “When the team went to change the brake duct exit deflector, that’s when I saw it happen.”

He flips to another page, this one showing screen captures of CCTV footage in the Ferrari garage a few hours before the race start. You can make out Tomaso slipping the replacement deflector into his pocket before taking out another piece and installing it in Charles’ car. Your blood turns cold.

“He tampered with the part,” Gianluca confirms grimly. “There’s no doubt in my mind he switched that deflector with a compromised one. Sabotage, just like you suspected.”

You sit back, shaking your head in disgusted disbelief. “Why? Why would he do this?”

Gianluca shrugs. “Hard to say for sure. Could be someone paid him off, wants to see Charles fail. But what I know for certain is that he meant to damage Charles’ car.”

You drum your fingers on your desk, thinking hard. This level of betrayal from someone Charles trusts, it’s unthinkable. An affront you won’t let stand.

“You’ve done excellent work, Gianluca,” you finally say, meeting his gaze. “Thank you for getting to the bottom of this. I’ll handle it from here.”

Gianluca nods. “Of course, boss. Let me know if you need anything else.”

He turns and leaves your study, closing the door quietly behind him. You lean back in your chair, fingers steepled under your chin. Your expression is stone, but internally your thoughts roil with anger. Tomaso will pay for this, you’ll see to that.

Charles has enough challenges to face without sabotage from his own team. Your resolve hardens — you won’t stop until justice is served and he can race with full confidence again. The treachery ends now.

***

After Gianluca leaves, your mind turns over what to do about Tomaso. The team flew straight from Bahrain to Saudi Arabia to prepare for the next race, so he’s out of your reach for now. Still, you won’t let him slip away that easily. You pick up your phone and call a trusted associate, instructing him to organize a surveillance team to keep constant eyes on Tomaso until you arrive in Jeddah yourself.

The days crawl by painfully slow as you wait to confront the saboteur. You resist the urge to call Fred Vasseur and have Tomaso removed from the team immediately — better to handle this yourself. Finally, it’s time to fly out for the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. Upon landing, your associate meets you at the airport.

“We have eyes on the target,” he reports. “He’s currently at the hotel bar, quite intoxicated.”

You nod curtly. “Good. Let’s pay him a visit.”

You’re led to the hotel and pointed towards the bar. Sure enough, there’s Tomaso, stumbling drunkenly out the door into the night. Now is your chance. You follow him down the street, waiting until he turns into a shadowy alley to make your move. In a flash you have him by the collar, shoving him against the brick wall.

“What the hell, let me go!” Tomaso slurs, trying to shove you off. But drinking has made him clumsy and weak.

“I don’t think so, Tomaso,” you reply coldly. “We need to have a little chat.”

His eyes widen in fear and confusion. You press on before he can respond.

“Let’s see, Tomaso Barbieri, born May 5th, 1992 in Turin. Moved to Maranello in 2021 to begin work as a mechanic with Scuderia Ferrari. Parents Lucia and Giacomo Barbieri, both schoolteachers. Sister Cecilia studying abroad in London.”

As you rattle off details about his personal life, Tomaso’s eyes grow wider and wider.

“What the hell, how do you know all that?” He stammers. “Who are you? Does Charles know the ugly truth about his girlfriend?”

You fix him with an icy stare. “Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know exactly who you are, Tomaso. A mechanic for Ferrari … and apparently a master of espionage and sabotage in your spare time.”

Tomaso’s eyes dart wildly, still trying to make sense of the situation in his inebriated state. He attempts an unconvincing laugh.

“What are you talking about man? Sabotage? I think you’ve had too much to drink ...”

Your response is to slam him hard against the wall, causing him to grunt in pain. You lean in close, anger simmering in your eyes.

“Let’s cut the bullshit, Tomaso. I know what you did in Bahrain, switching out the brake duct deflector to sabotage Charles’ car. Did you think you could get away with it? That there wouldn’t be consequences?”

Up close, you can see the color drain from his face, eyes wide with fear. He tries to retain some composure.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeats weakly. “I would never sabotage Charles’ car, I want him to win ...”

You slam him against the wall again, cutting off his lies.

“I said, enough bullshit!” you snarl. “We have you on video. We saw everything. We know you pocketed the real deflector and installed a defective one instead.”

He is trembling now, any hint of drunkenness replaced by sobering fear.

“Please,” he whimpers pathetically. “I’ll do anything, just please let me go. I made a mistake ...”

You shake your head in disgust. “A mistake? You betrayed Charles’ trust and tried to ruin his race out of what? Jealousy? Greed?”

Tomaso says nothing, eyes downcast in shame. You take a breath and continue in a low, menacing tone.

“Here are your options. One: you go directly to Vasseur first thing in the morning and resign from Ferrari immediately. You will leave the team and ensure you are never so much as in the same country as Charles again. Two: I deal with you myself, in a much less pleasant manner. The choice is yours, Tomaso. What’s it going to be?”

He meets your steely gaze again, jaw clenched. “I can’t just quit,” he says hoarsely. “My job is my life. You might as well just kill me.”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “I was afraid you’d say that. Very well.”

In one swift motion you draw your gun from its concealed holster and press the barrel firmly under Tomaso’s chin. He recoils in terror, plastered back against the wall.

“Last chance,” you say calmly. “Walk away from Ferrari and never look back, or your days end tonight in this alley.”

Sweat drips down his brow as the gun digs harder into his throat. His eyes are saucers of fear, flitting between your steely gaze and the weapon poised to end his life.

“Well?” You ask after a long silence. “What’s it going to be?”

Tomaso swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing against the gun barrel. When he speaks, his voice is a terrified croak.

“I … I won’t quit. I can’t.” He closes his eyes in resignation, awaiting his fate.

You click your tongue in disappointment. “That’s unfortunate. I wish it hadn’t come to this.”

Your finger tightens almost imperceptibly on the trigger …

“Wait, wait!” Tomaso cries out, hands raised in desperation. “I’ll do it, I’ll quit! Just please, don’t hurt me!”

You pause, gun still aimed steadily at his throat. “And why should I believe you now?”

He swallows hard, eyes brimming with tears. “I swear, I’ll resign first thing tomorrow. You’ll never see me near the team again. Just let me go, I’m begging you!”

You consider him coldly for a moment before lowering the gun. Tomaso sags back against the wall in relief. But you’re not done with him yet.

“Who paid you?” You demand. “Who put you up to sabotaging Charles’ car?”

The blood drains from his face again. “I can’t tell you that. They’ll kill me, and my family ...”

In a flash the gun is back at his throat, your grip like iron on his shirt collar.

“I assure you, I can do much worse than they ever could,” you say menacingly. “Now give me a name, or you can say goodbye.”

Tomaso shakes uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face. You can see the internal struggle, debating which is the lesser evil — defying you or those he conspired with. Finally, he slumps in defeat and leans in close, voice barely a whisper.

“It was ...”

He utters a name directly into your ear. Your eyes widen briefly in surprise before narrowing again. You release Tomaso and take a step back, processing this new information.

“I see,” you say slowly. You nod over your shoulder and two of your associates emerge from the shadows.

“Get him out of my sight,” you order. They grab Tomaso roughly by the arms. He sags between them, the fight gone out of him completely. You fix him with an icy stare.

“My men will escort you to the airport,” you inform him. “You will be on the first flight out of this hemisphere. And you are never to go near Ferrari or Charles again — don’t even think about trying to contact the team to explain yourself. As far as they will be concerned, you simply resigned. Am I clear?”

Tomaso nods wordlessly, defeated. The men begin dragging him away towards a waiting black SUV.

“Oh, and Tomaso?” You call after him. He glances back warily. “If I ever see or hear of you so much as setting foot in a paddock again, you won’t get a second chance. You’ll simply disappear. Permanently.”

The color drains from his face one final time. Then he is shoved into the back of the SUV, the door slamming shut behind him. You watch impassively as the vehicle drives off into the night, carrying the saboteur away for good.

Or so he thinks.

Unbeknownst to Tomaso, you have contacts everywhere, including at his destination. The second he steps off the plane, thinking he’s escaped your wrath, your local associates will be waiting. And his life will be ended swiftly and permanently, as promised. You don't make idle threats after all.

Betrayal of this magnitude must be punished, no matter how far Tomaso runs. The message will be clear — cross you, and nowhere on Earth will be safe. You've given the order, and your associates are nothing if not ruthlessly efficient. By the time the sun rises, there will be one less threat to Charles’ success. The sabotage ends here and now. You'll see to that personally, no matter the cost.

For a moment you simply stand alone in the dark alley, processing everything. This is bigger than you initially realized. Tomaso was clearly just a pawn, the sabotage orchestrated by someone higher up the chain — someone with enough power and influence to scare a man into risking his career and life.

Your jaw clenches as you think about Charles being targeted like this, not only being robbed of a deserved finish but also put in danger as collateral. Well, it ends now. The shadowy orchestrator thinks they can get away with playing games in the dark? They’re about to realize just how big of a mistake they’ve made.

Now that you have a name, you can start unraveling the web, tracing every thread back to find where it leads. And when you do find the spider at the center? You’ll make sure they can never endanger Charles again. For good.

Satisfied with this plan, you straighten your dress and exit the alley onto the brighter streets. Time to put your considerable resources to work. Phone records, financials, travel records — you’ll dig through it all, leave no stone unturned.

And you have a feeling the name Tomaso gave you is only the first thread. This goes deeper. But it doesn’t matter. You’ve dealt with far more dangerous criminal elements before. These shadow games don’t scare you. You’ll keep following the threads until you reach the source, uprooting the entire enterprise in the process.

By the time you reach your car, your phone is already buzzing with incoming calls and updates from your associates. They know the drill by now — when you give the word, they mobilize into action immediately, utilizing the full extent of your influence and power.

For you, they’ll tap every resource, call in every favor owed. Because you protect what’s yours at all costs. And Charles? He’s under your protection now, whether he knows it or not. So for his sake, you’re going to find the ones trying to undermine him, and you’re going to tear out the threat root and stem. Permanently.

Let them keep playing their games for now, oblivious to the axe hanging over their heads. They’ll find out soon enough that nobody crosses you and gets away with it. And when that time comes, no mercy will be shown. No loose ends left to unravel.

Time to remind them exactly why your reputation precedes you in certain circles, why your name is uttered only in hushed whispers. They’ll regret the day they dared threaten someone you care about. You’ll see to that personally.

With your jaw set in determination, you climb into the idling car. Time to go hunting.

***

Two days after dealing with Tomaso, you make your way through the Jeddah Corniche Circuit paddock towards the Ferrari motorhome.

Your stiletto heels click along the pavement and you glance down, frowning slightly at the flecks of blood still staining the pointed toes of your red soles. Such a shame about these Louboutins, you really love this pair. But a bit of blood is a small price to pay for protecting Charles, especially after personally dealing with the orchestrator who had been paying Tomaso off.

You had tracked them down and made sure they could never threaten Charles’ success again. Subtly, you crouch down and wipe at the stains, managing to remove the worst of it.

Satisfied, you straighten and continue on your way. The familiar bright red motorhome comes into view and you sweep inside, immediately spotting Charles standing with some team members. His face lights up when he sees you, excusing himself to rush over.

“Mon amour, you made it!” He exclaims, enveloping you in a tight hug. You melt against him, breathing in his familiar scent.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss seeing you race for anything,” you reply, pecking his lips sweetly.

Charles takes your hand, leading you to a quiet corner where you can talk. “I missed you so much while you were away,” he says. “But I’m so glad you’re here now.”

You smile and stroke his cheek. “Me too, darling. But I’m here now and I’ll be cheering the loudest for you all race.”

Charles’ grin falters a bit. “It’s been a strange few days actually. Tomaso, one of my mechanics, just up and quit in the middle of the week. No explanation or anything.”

You school your features into a look of surprise. “Really? That’s so odd.”

Charles nods. “Very weird timing to just resign like that. But maybe it’s for the best if his heart wasn’t fully in it anymore.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” you agree. “The team is better off without any negativity.”

Before Charles can reply, Andrea enters the motorhome. “Charles, time for some quick physio before the race.”

Charles sighs but nods, giving you a swift kiss before following Andrea out. You watch him go fondly before making your way trackside to the Ferrari garage. The mechanics are in race mode, voices terse and movements precise as they make final adjustments on Charles’ car.

You stay back, letting them work, thoughts drifting back to everything you did to get to this point. A small price to pay to ensure Charles can race with a fair chance again.

Finally it’s time for Charles to get in the car. You approach as he’s putting on his helmet and balaclava, stealing a tender kiss that he returns happily. Then you lift the helmet and slide it gently into place, brushing your lips softly over the smooth surface where his lips would be. Your ritual.

“Be safe out there,” you murmur. Charles squeezes your hand, then lowers himself into the cockpit. You watch tensely as the car pulls away, the lights of the circuit glittering against the dark night sky.

In the garage you pace anxiously throughout the race, listening to the radio chatter. Again Charles qualified P2, behind Max Verstappen’s Red Bull. But this time, you have no sabotage to worry about. The Ferrari proves fast and consistent all race, not quite keeping pace with the Red Bull but allowing Charles to maintain P2 smoothly.

The SF-24 doesn’t have the speed to challenge Max, but there’s no issues, no sudden grip loss or components failing. Your shoulders finally uncoil with relief as Charles crosses the line to take P2, securing a podium finish.

The garage explodes into cheers and applause as Charles pulls into parc fermé. He’s beaming as he climbs from the car, pulling off his gloves and balaclava. You run over to the barriers and throw your arms around him ecstatically as soon as he nears.

“I’m so proud of you!” You exclaim. Charles hugs you back tightly.

“Thank you, mon cœur,” he says warmly. “It felt good to finally have a clean race again.”

You just smile knowingly, heart bursting with joy at seeing Charles on the podium where he belongs. During the celebrations, he keeps meeting your gaze in the crowd, smiling and pointing down to you in the crowd of red. As he sprays champagne with Max and Checo, he looks utterly elated and at peace. No frustration or disappointment, just the satisfaction of a hard fought race with the result he deserved.

Afterwards, in the privacy of Charles’ room, he takes you into his arms again. “I don’t know what changed or why, but the car just felt right this weekend,” he says. “It makes me so optimistic for the rest of the season.”

You stroke his face gently. “You deserve it. All your hard work is paying off.” Inside, you allow yourself a small, satisfied smile. Charles doesn’t need to know just how much work went on behind the scenes to get here. He only needs to focus on driving his heart out, and securing the championships you know he’s destined for. The rest is simply details.

“Thank you again for being here,” Charles murmurs, pulling you close. “Having your support means everything to me.”

You rest your head on his shoulder contentedly. “Always, my love. I’ll be right by your side.” And you mean that with every fiber of your being. No matter what happens going forward, whoever tries to interfere or stand in Charles’ way, they’ll have to go through you first.

You won’t let anyone toy with Charles’ performance and safety again. The lesson has been sent — Charles is untouchable now. Dare to threaten the success that is his, and you’ll come for what’s theirs.

But Charles doesn’t need to carry that burden. He just needs to keep his head held high and drive his heart out. You’ll handle the rest. It’s the least you can do for the man you love more than life itself.

So as Charles holds you close, you silently promise to always shield him from the ugly underbelly that lurks beneath the glitz and glamour of Formula 1.

He gives so much of himself already in pursuit of greatness. Let others vie for power and influence through dirty tricks and mind games. That’s not Charles’ way, which is why you’ll ensure he remains untainted. For him, you’d walk through fire without a second thought.

So really, what’s a little blood on your Louboutins in the grand scheme of things? A man like Charles Leclerc deserves that and so much more. And you’re going to give it to him, no matter the cost.

Let them keep playing their games in the shadows. Little do they know, you’ve already checkmated them all.

[owlwithanapple]

Their Favorite ❤️‍🔥👄🔞

Content : Adult Content

Characters : Bruce Wayne x Y/N

“Y/N, I have an emergency, maybe a lot of emergency, reschedule all my meetings. I'll be back in a maybe few hours or late night? Do it for me, thanks.” Bruce says walking out of his office as he puts on the jacket that matches his pants.

Y/N had been working at Wayne Enterprises as Bruce's personal assistant for almost a year now? Which was quite an accomplishment, considering most people quit for the same reason. He always seemed to have a lot of“emergency” and his poor assistant ended up having to reschedule his entire schedule.

Other than that, he didn't give much more work and the pay was generous. Maybe too freaking generous. Sure, he had to compensate Y/N enough to keep them from asking any questions, the least he needed was for his assistant to find out that he was none other than the Dark Knight.

“Oh, my sweet girl. Go buy yourself something nice to make up for it, don't worry about the price and charge it to my account. And don’t hesitate, you have my word.” Bruce winked seductively added before calling the elevator.

“Uh huh. Emergency again? What a busy man you are. I should considering buying a condo since you said charge it to your account.” There is sarcasm in your words to make fun of him.

He chuckled slightly when heard your comment. You were usually pretty witty and a little bit naughty, it was one of the things that made both of you working together so enjoyable.

The elevator stopped at the parking lot and he walked over to his car. He joked before getting into the car. “Just don't spend more than you make. I can't have my assistant going bankrupt.”

“Gotcha, daddy~since I have your card.” You stand aside his car winking at him playfully as he allows you to spend his money while you played his card in hand.

He was momentarily taken back by the wink. The comment combined with the wink made his thoughts go somewhere they shouldn't. He managed to regain composure and chuckled again.

“Keep it up because I might just have to fire you.” He said jokingly, although it came out sounding a little less like a joke than he intended.

“I know very well that you won't do that.” You smirked confidently as you’re not afraid he would fire you.

He chuckled and shake his head. He started the car and revved the engine a few times. “I like your confidence, charming and hot. I'm off. Don’t have too much fun with my card.”

You couldn't help but laugh, enjoying the teasing interaction between the two of you during work time. After watching his car leave, you returned to the office to handle the work he assigned to you.

Bruce smirked as he watched you walk away. You were certainly a breath of fresh air from the usual sticklers that worked in high positions at Wayne Enterprises. As he drove to the batcave, Bruce still kept your comment in his mind from earlier.

‘Daddy’

Normally he’d find that statement offensive, it sounded like she was calling him an old man. But for some reason, coming from you it didn’t have the same effect. The smile on his lips couldn't be concealed at all when recalling every banter between you two.

A few hours later, Bruce returned to Wayne Enterprises. He was tired from the night, the amount of criminals trying to take advantage of his “busy schedule” seemed to have increased. He was also in a pretty foul mood, his night had been quite unproductive, most criminals seemed to have been staying indoors.

Bruce walked into the building and was heading back to his office when he caught a glimpse of you through your office door. You still working on his schedule. Bruce paused in the doorway, watching you silently for a few moments.

As Bruce watched, he couldn’t help but notice how pretty you looked, the perfect blend of sharp and soft, which somehow fit together perfectly. He enjoyed you around him while working with him, not boring and serious like soldiers. It’s fun and bantering like intimate close friends.

He realized hadn’t said a word since walking in and he had been standing there watching you for what probably seemed like an uncomfortable amount of time. It only further solidified his assumption that he didn’t get out enough.

You leaned beside the shelf and flipped the document that he hasn’t finalized and filled out yet, obviously didn’t notice he’s back to Wayne Enterprises. Bruce cleared his throat gently to get your attention “I’m back, sweet girl.”

“How long you standing there? You should bang into my office rather than standing like a statue.” You close the document putting it back on desk. “Oh by the way, welcome back, handsome. So what’s the emergency?”

He stepped a bit closer, now leaning against the doorway as he watched her. He shoved his hand up and sighed but he pulled back a smiles as he don’t want to expose Batman’s duty. “Just some part time job. Must be annoying having to constantly deal with my ‘emergencies’, but I do appreciate it. I don’t know what I’d do without a competent assistant.”

You tilt your head because you feel he’s so suspicious especially about the emergency he mentioned, but didn’t force him to talk about it. He’s your boss and you’re his personal assistant, respect each other boundaries “Uh huh. What a busy man you are. The schedule I already rescheduled it.”

“Well done, sweet girl. I expected nothing less from my favorite assistant.” Bruce answered, a hint of a smile and teasing on his lips.

He admiring the way you held yourself, as assistant you’re confident and calm, as a close friend you’re naughty and teasing. Something that seemed to be harder to find in Gotham.

Bruce’s eyes moved to the clock and he straightened himself with a sigh. “It’s late, you should get going. Can’t let sweet girl like you work overtime again.”

“Yup. I need a good nap, especially my boss trusts me so much then I have to face a mountain of paperwork.”You rolled your eyes when he still flirted with you. You start packing things into your handbag and prepare to go home.

“Yeah, you look tired—.“ Bruce realized he can’t stopped to flirt with you. Maybe is the casual way to talk with you including some flirty things like this. He was about to tell you looked good, even tired.

Instead, he said “Well, drive safe. Can’t have my favourite assistant getting in any accidents.”He started to walk away but paused and added flirtatious words. “I’m watching you and my account transaction history. Don’t think I’ve forgotten to see what you bought with my card.”

You pouted at him like you’re thinking about what you were going to buy when his cards were in your hand, suddenly an idea appeared on your mind and you made a sound like real “Opps. Maybe a condo? Or Range Rover? Hahahaha. Goodbye, Bruce.”

He chuckled at your retort. He had to give it to you, you are just as witty and so attractive just like his ex lover Selina Kyle, but both of you are different ways of charming people. Bruce nodded in response. “Night. My sweet girl.”

After you left, Bruce returned to his own office and sat at his desk. He was supposed to finish some paperwork, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Specifically, on you. Bruce had never considered himself a very romantic or sexual person. After all, with his work as Batman, he didn’t have much time for romance. With you or Selina Kyle.

And yet, here he was, sitting in his office and his thoughts were on you. Not on criminals or the Batman, but on a beautiful 25 year old woman who is his personal assistant. Bruce leaned back in his desk chair and sighed, it was very unlikely that he’d get anything done tonight.

He was sure most people in similar circumstances would go out to a bar and flirt with an attractive woman, maybe even bring her home and have some “fun”. But Bruce wasn’t most people. The idea of going to a bar to flirt with some random women wasn’t appealing, he didn’t work that way.

He had to admit, the thought of bringing you home and having some “fun” was very appealing…Holy shit…No. He ran a hand over his face. Was he really thinking about bringing you , his attractive younger assistant home?

Damn his mind. It would be crazy. Insane even. He’d lose his favorite sweet assistant, the one person in Wayne Enterprises he could trust and enjoyed working with. Not only that, you were much younger than him, almost 10 years. How old was he? A 35 year old man thinking about a 25 year old like this?

No. He couldn’t think like that. Besides, there was the chance that you had already in a relationship. It was probably the most likely scenario anyway. He pinched his nose bridge and murmured “What a sweet girl..”

Suddenly, an unbidden thought popped into his mind: if you are single, would you be into him? Bruce shake his head. Since when did he think in that way? Of course not. How many times had he heard the old trope about people not dating their bosses.

In your apartment, you sat down on the couch, scrolling and browsing online by use your laptop. You had your legs tucked under yourself, laptop in lap as you typed away, looking through items to charge to your boss’ credit card…As you browsed, kept your mind occupied with other things, so you didn’t accidentally go overboard.

Finally, you made a decision which item you should buy for yourself. An online transaction appears in his account. It’s you using his card to purchase a whole new coffee machine, especially the expensive one that includes a lot of new equipment.

‘Bing.’

He looked up from his work after the noise and went to his computer. Opening it up and looking at the transaction that has just popped up. Bruce’s eyes widened slightly when he realized what it was. ‘She’s certainly not holding back…’ He thought with a smirk.

In the same time, you laughed at the purchase price and succeeded. You never holding back especially you have this special treatment which is personally given by your boss. You take a screenshot for the transaction and send it to his chat account. “Thanks~my favorite boss. Love you so much.”

Bruce’s computer pinged again as he received a message. He smiled as he read that you had thanked him and said you love him. He knew you didn’t mean it in a romantic way, and yet for some stupid reason, it made his heart flutter. He quickly wrote a short reply. “Goodnight, my sweet girl.”

“Night night, my boss.” You type a message and send it to him. You feel a little sleepy, before that you go into the bathroom, take off your clothes and take a hot bath. You come out of the bathroom with naked, you dry your body and hair, put on your lace nightgown and climbed on the bed to sleep.

By the time Bruce saw the reply on his computer, he had turned it off and was on his way back to the manor. He kept thinking about the email, especially when you had thanked him, called him “favorite” and said you“love” him. He knew he shouldn’t be this excited for something that might have just been a funny remark, but he couldn’t help it.

He wasn’t focused on the road, just letting the autopilot car drive by itself while his thoughts were still filled with his assistant. After a while he made his way to his bedroom. It’s not like he would get much work done anyway if his thoughts were preoccupied with his very attractive personal assistant.

Bruce stripped out of his clothes, taking a quick shower, just like you , came out just as naked and dried his body with a towel. He had no reason to wear any clothes to bed, completely exposed himself. He stood in front of the mirror. He was a playboy in Gotham City. Thanks to his alter ego as Batman fighting criminals, he had such attractive muscles. He lying under his covers, closed his eyes and sleep.

Morning comes, you arrive at your work building early as usual. You stepped into the elevator and scan the access card to go directly to Bruce's office. After arriving at the floor, you go to the office kitchen to make two cups of coffee. Bring it into his office, put his credit card on the desk and return it to him, then sort out the documents on the desk.

A little while later, Bruce arrived. After parking his car in the parking lot, made his way inside, greeted by many of his employees, most of them greeted him with a smile. He got into the elevator and get to his floor. He didn’t have to wait long before it arrived.

Bruce walked through the hallway that led to his office. He slowed slightly as he passed your office, but didn’t stop. Arriving at his office, he pushed the door open. As expected, you are already at work. Two cups of coffee sat on his desk, along with the file he had been working with last night.

Bruce smirked when he saw his credit card on his desk, it seemed like you were enjoying the benefits it gave you. He picked up the card and put it back into his wallet. Bruce took the coffees and smiled his thanks. He said with a chuckle. “I see you’re already putting that card to good use. Did you have fun with my credit card yesterday?”

You chuckled and turned your back to him while sorting out the documents, you answered him in a teasing tone as usual. “You know. A coffee machine. I've always wanted one in my apartment.”

“And the most expensive one you could find, I assume…?” He said in a teasing voice, a smirk still on his lips. Bruce picked up a cup and took a sip of the hot coffee. It was perfect as always.

You stop what you are doing and turn around to give him a smug smile. You look around the office to make sure no one is outside, then you walk over to him and sit at his desk. “I was thinking about the expensive stuff suits your taste. Maybe you can stopped by and I can make a coffee for you with my new coffee machine. If you free.”

He watched you go over to his desk and sit on the edge, a smirk on lips. He was momentarily surprised by how close you were sitting. When you made the suggestion to have a drink in your apartment, something flashed through Bruce’s mind. For a moment, he almost thought you are insinuating something.

Bruce placed his cup of coffee down on his desk and stood up, standing directly in front of you. He looked down at you , he almost towered over you while you sitting down. He leaned closer, his arms folded across his chest. “Maybe…I should be free sometime. I’d need to know your address though…”

You chuckled and nodded slightly, then took out your phone and sent the address of your apartment and the exact location to his chatroom. “There. Remember mark it as important.”

Bing—

Bruce heard the sound of his phone notifying him of a new message and picked it up. The message, your apartment’s address. He smiled when you made the comment and looked up from his phone. “Don’t pretend like you’re not handing your address out to every guy you meet.”

You grabbed his tie pulled it closer to make him standing between your legs. You stroke his tie like tracing the sensations with your fingers. He was standing between your legs now. “Because the others… I never invited them to come stopped by in my apartment for a coffee.”

Bruce’s breath hitched when you pulled him closer and started touching his tie, his hands reflexively reached out and placed themselves on the desk. His hands gripping the desk’s edge, his knuckles starting to turning white.

Bruce was trying to keep his composure and not make it look like the actions were affecting him, but it wasn’t exactly working. He tried and failed to ignore the feeling of your legs on either side of him, your thighs were practically against his hips. “And why would that be?”

You looked into his eyes and gently traced your fingers over his tie. Being able to smell his faint scent and the smell of coffee just now from such a close distance which makes your heart move. “Because you know how to taste it.”

Bruce’s breath hitches as you looked into his eyes, your fingers tracing over his tie. He was intensely aware of how close both of you, he could practically feel the warmth of your breath on his face. Your words, the simple comment of a double meaning sent a rush of heat through him. He could feel his heart thump in his chest.

Bruce moved his right hand and placed it on your thigh, letting it rest there. He said, his gaze drifting to her lips. “And I know how to taste other things too…”

You tilted your head and looked innocently, but you knew his meaning when his gaze turned to your lips. You released his tie and holding his hand that’s on your thigh. “Sounds great. I wonder what you will do?”

Bruce’s grip on your thigh tightens slightly. He knew you’re playing innocent, and he was falling for it. He took a step forward, eliminating the distance between them and pressed his body against you. He placed his other hand on your hip, holding you in place.

He bent down a little, his lips only a few millimeters away. He could feel the heat rising in his chest and in the pit of his stomach. He said in a low voice, his breathing becoming a bit shallow. “I have few ideas…”

You chuckled at him “Must be a great idea.”

His voice was still in a low tone, he was still staring into your eyes. He could feel that he was already getting aroused, your proximity and the scent of skin weren’t helping. He brought his hand from your hip up to chin, tilting your head up slightly. His gaze falling on your lips. “Should I show you a sample?”

You turned your head and looked at the clock. There were still thirty minutes left before his meeting. You didn't want to waste it. You grabbed his hand and moved it to your inner thigh to tease him. “Time is of the essence, don't waste it.”

He still has at least half an hour to kill before he needed to be in the conference room for a meeting. As good as that idea sounded, he wouldn’t be able to fully express it without being late. He looked back down at you as you moved his hand to your inner thigh, his breath hitched as he felt the smoothness of your skin under his hand. “Oh don’t worry… I don’t have any intentions of wasting time.”

All it took was a few simple words on part, the little self-control that was left inside of Bruce was gone. A primal part of his brain had taken over. As soon as he finished speaking, he squatted down and spread wide open your legs to accommodate his body.

Without giving you a chance, he pulled your panties down and buried his face under your skirt, licking your clitoris with his tongue to taste you. You felt a rush of passion, the part he licked was constantly rubbed by his tongue, as if he was sucking you in hungrily. You grabbed his shoulders, your body trembled continuously, you straightened your waist and tilted your head upwards to moan.

When the two of you were busy, the phone on his desk suddenly rang, interrupting both of your enjoyment. You turned your head saw it was from Lucius Fox, which must be the preparation for the meeting. You stopped him from licking, but he ignored it and indulged in it. With no other options left, you clutched his clothes tightly, stifling your own moans, and forced yourself answered his call for him.

“H-Hey Mr Lucius…how can I help you…?” You answer the phone, your voice slightly shaky as you clutched onto Bruce as he continued. You said, but mentally cursing at Bruce because he’s not stopping what’s he’s doing right now! You tried your best to make your voice sound normal, keeping back a moan as you felt Bruce’s tongue run over your sensitive parts.

On the other end of the phone, Lucius had expected to speak to Bruce, but instead was met with your voice. Not knowing the situation, completely unaware of what was happening on the other side of the phone call, continued on. “Hey smart girl, is Bruce there with you? I need to quickly talk with him for a second about something important, is he available?”

Bruce, who was kneeling under the desk, didn’t even think about what it looked like on the other end of the phone call. He continued licking, enjoying the taste and texture. The moment you reached climax, you were about to moan loudly out but you can’t, you clutching his clothes tightly almost to ripping it to suppress the feeling.

You poked Bruce's head to hint that Lucius wanted to talk to him. Unexpectedly, Bruce looked up for a moment, silently communicating to you that he wanted you to speak for him.While he had never asked anything like this before, you had to admit that in your hazy mind it was actually quite funny in a messed up way.

How would Lucius feel to know his boss was between his personal assistant’s legs? However, he wasn’t going to stop what he was doing and you were forced to act as his mouth piece in the meantime. In this sneaky situation, you suddenly have a funny idea to make fun of Bruce. You suppress yourself and continue to talk to Lucius in phone while clutching his clothes tightly. “He is currently busy... Busy doing bad things..”

As you were forced to speak on behalf of your boss, holding back the moans and pleasure he was giving you. Lucius’s voice from the other end of the phone call went silent for a second before he spoke again. He asked, sounding a little confused but concerned. “Ummm… care to elaborate on that..?”

Meanwhile, Bruce looked up at you, his eyes narrowing when he heard you say ‘busy doing bad things.’ He got what you were doing and was slightly annoyed by it. Especially in this kind of situation, he'll keep you company with your naughty ideas , so he decided to punish you by biting your thighs.

A sudden tingling sensation increases the pleasure of your desire. You tilt your head back and your climax explodes once again. You clutched the phone harder than ever to hold yourself back. “He messed up the files....now I have to help him with it....”

Bruce’s ears twitched as he heard you speak. It was a clear that your voice was shaking a lot, clearly an effect of him and what he was doing. The comment you gave in response to Lucius gave him a hint that you were trying to play a game of your own, and it was clear that you were having a hard time getting your words out without sounding too obvious.

He felt a sense of satisfaction as he heard you struggle to speak. He decided that it was time to increase the torture a little. Suddenly, you felt a surge of excitement came over, his fingers tracing outside your sensitive parts.

Seeing the effects that his actions had on you, and hearing how hard it was for you to speak without letting anything slip to Lucius on the phone, Bruce smirked. He knew that he had you exactly where he wanted you, right on the edge. He wasn’t satisfied though. Bruce wanted to listen to you get more riled up and he thought of a way to do exactly that.

Bruce’s hands moved from your inner thighs and started tracing his fingers up and down on your outer parts, the sensation felt even more heightened due to the anticipation. He was teasing you. You continued speaking into your phone, but the words were coming out more labored and breathless than usual.

“Smart girl, are you alright over there…?” Lucius’s voice broke the silence that was on the call, he could tell from your shaky voice and weird behaviour that something wasn’t quite right.

Meanwhile Bruce looked up at you as he ran his finger along your most sensitive part, he knew that you were getting desperate and was waiting for your next words. Until he put a finger inside you to play it, you coughed to cover up your orgasm. “I’m alright…just my throat is a bit itchy…”

When you started coughing and tried to cover it up, Bruce was a little bit surprised, he thought you would have been able to handle it a little longer. He felt his mouth twitch into a smirk when he heard what you said to Lucius. It was clear that you were lying, but he couldn’t help but find the whole situation slightly amusing.

As he saw you struggling to hold yourself back, Bruce decided to up the ante and added a second finger. You grit your teeth, want to hang up the phone in your hand and throw it into the trash can. Your boss enjoys this atmosphere. Seeing you messed up by him increases his desire and enthusiasm.

As soon as Bruce added a second finger it was almost too much to bear for you, it was becoming increasingly hard to hold yourself back without doing something obvious. Meanwhile, Lucius was still sitting on the other end of the phone, his voice filled with a hint of concern. “Are you sure you’re alright…?”

“Yes…I’ll drink more water…thanks for your concern.”Bruce continued to watch you struggle and trying to keep your cool for Lucius’s sake. He knew that you were at your limit and was trying to hold on for dear life. But he didn’t think that you could get much farther without accidentally slipping in the obvious truth.

He curled his fingers slightly inside of you, he couldn’t help but smirk and feel a little pride because your body reacted so passionately. You didn't expect you couldn’t suppress his fingers so great inside you that when he did this, you would squirt so much like a mess. The feeling of Bruce’s fingers curling inside of you was too much and you had to suppress a moan.

Bruce watched your reaction, his smirk deepening a little. He was thoroughly enjoy watching you struggle on the phone to Lucius, listening to you struggle to keep your moans down so that Lucius didn’t catch on. Meanwhile, Lucius on the other end of the phone was getting a little suspicious. “You sound strange over the phone. You sure you’re alright? Should I come and check on you..?”

“Huh?! Um…nonono…don’t worry about it….”When you suddenly squirted on his fingers, Bruce was a little stunned by the sudden amount. He was only going to cause you a little more discomfort and make you try even harder to act normal.

You clutched the phone and his shirts tightly to suppress your feelings was about exposing out. He raised an eyebrow slightly in shock, slightly surprised at what you did. He could hear you desperately trying to stop any moans from being heard at the other end of the phone.

“Are you sure…?” Lucius asked again, getting more suspicious, especially your voice and breath. Lucius sounding like he was seconds away from getting up from his chair and heading over to check on you two.

You heard the sound of moving chair, sounds like Lucius was about stand up from his chair over the phone, and you tensed. For a moment you are distracted, you felt something hot rubbing against your entrance, it was Bruce.

His hot dick rubs against your entrance. He pushed you down to his desk, his face was smirked like he’s enjoying this moment. You swallow your saliva, do your best blurting out something to stopped Lucius leaving his office. “Mr Lucius, I’m really fine…Bruce and I still sorted out the meeting documents…”

As soon as you blurted that Bruce and you were working on the documents for the meeting, Lucius paused for a moment before speaking, thinking.“Alright fine… but don’t forget the meeting is in a few minutes.”

He slowly pushes forward his dick into yours, his waist begins to hit your hips roughly like his hunger reaches the limit, secreting hormones in your body. You lean your head back and grab his tie to calm your nerves. “Alright, see you later…Mr Lucius…”

When you spoke again, you tried to sound as normal as you possibly could, but it was clear that you were struggling. You tried to remain composed and calm as you spoke, but your mind was still in a haze from his actions. Lucius said, sounding a little reluctant, but still convinced. “I’ll see you in the meeting. Bye.”

When you heard Lucius hang up, you finally let go of all your worries. You put the phone aside and finally got back to work with your boss. You straddled your legs around his waist feeling his dick inside your body so deep and hot. “You bastard…”

All your worries and troubles vanished as soon as you heard Lucius hang up. With no one on the other end of the phone, you no longer had to worry about trying to hide yourself from him. He asked, pretending to be innocent, even though you both knew exactly what he did. “Me? What did I do that was so bad..?”

He fucks you over and over again without stopping, and the two of you enjoy the atmosphere and the pleasure brought by this little game. He was very fast, and the sensitive spots in your body were constantly poked, causing you to climax repeatedly, as if he knew where your weaknesses were. “You…know…if others knew about this…Bruce Wayne under his personal assistant’s skirt…that would be so funny…”

Every thrust felt like magic, as if he knew every single thing you wanted and needed. He knew exactly how to make you feel good. He smirked and looked at you as you mentioned that if others knew about what was happening under your skirt. “Oh yeah, it would be. Everyone would think that Bruce Wayne is so weak that he couldn’t even wait, is doing it in his office.”

The speed and intensity that he was moving, was incredible. It felt like he was possessed. “And they would think that he is such a bad boss that he doesn’t care about work, he just wants to do something else.”

He lifts your left leg hook it over his shoulder. His lips pass over every part of your left leg and leave kiss marks. You can feel a strong possessive breath coming from him. His movements are bigger and rougher without holding himself. He fucks you too extremely, just like him wanted to messing you up.

“I’m sure lots of people wouldn’t be surprised though, they’d probably think that it’s typical for him to take his assistant instead of getting a girlfriend. After all, it’s a lot easier to screw when you’re right there at hand.” He whispered in your ears make you shiver.

You clutched the edge of his desk, unable to close your mouth. Luckily his office was well soundproofed, otherwise the sounds of your moans, squirting, and thrusting would have spread throughout the building. “Oh…ah…Bruce…I’m again…”

The office was quiet, save for the sound of breathing and the occasional moan that he drew from you. But thanks the soundproofing, those sounds were firmly contained within the room, keeping them safe from anyone outside. “You’d better keep your voice down…unless you want someone to walk in and catch us.”

You enjoy the feeling of being possessed by him at this moment. You obey his orders, you grab his hand and put it to your mouth, you lick his thumb with your tongue and then gently bite it, the air from your mouth passes through his skin, you suppress your moaning desire. “Oh…Bruce…not fair to shut my mouth…Your office is obviously soundproof.”

Every time you licked his thumb and bit it slightly, he felt his skin tingle. It was like electricity was running down his spine every time your tongue touched him.

He smirked when heard you say that it was unfair for him to shut your mouth. He said with a cheeky grin.“I’m the boss, it’s my job to be unfair. But that doesn’t mean I want to listen to your loud moans…”

You squeeze his hot dick tightly inside yours and tease him to irritate him. You felt a burst of pain, but it ignited your desire to be abused. He’s kinda enjoying your naughty behavior in this intimate game.

He let out a low moan when you squeezed him inside, and it was getting a little harder to keep his cool and his voice down. He tried to keep his voice steady and even as he spoke. “You really are a little tease…don’t get so cocky, I’m your boss.”

Again. His rough hands slapped your peach-like buttocks, and gripping tightly until leaving red marks there. You squirt once more, the hot breath coming from the pain of his slapping your buttocks, he simply shows no mercy to you. “Ugh! Bruce!! More!”

He enjoyed the way you looked at him, in a mixture of pain and pleasure, mixed in with a hint of desperation. He liked seeing you like this, in pain, but also enjoying the whole situation. He gave your booty another rough slap, his hand making a sharp move.

Your pain-pleasure was delicious for him, it was like music, like a drug he couldn’t get enough of. He could tell that you were in some pain, but your body still craved him and wanted to feel more. His desire for you was too strong, he needed to release more of himself.

You bit his thumb and almost let out a moan, your breathing quickened. Your trembling voice aroused desire once again as his lust burned every part of your body. “More…push me more…my boss…”

He could see how close you were getting and he knew that you needed something to tip you over the edge. He was enjoying this, watching you and listening to your trembling voice. He teased and taunted you, wanting to draw as many helpless begging sounds out of you as he could. “Oh, begging for it already, are you? What a sweet girl you are, so craving me.”

“Ugh ah….I couldn’t hold it anymore!”When you finally give in to the sensation, the amount of squirting exceeded your expectations, and your loud moans were almost enough to break the soundproofing on the walls. You release his thumb from your mouth and cover your mouth to reduce the sound of your loud moans.

He’s surprised at the amount of your squirting. It’s quite an amount, but he seems to enjoy it, it’s like a boost of energy to him. He looked down at you, his eyes darkened and his smirked, enjoying the sight of you trying to cover your moans up. He placed his hand on top of your hand that covered your mouth, preventing you from muffling the sounds. “Shh…Not so loud, sweet girl. What a great scene I love.”

Your moans and the sound of you squirting filled the room, making it impossible to ignore what was happening. He gently caressed your hair, looking at you with a hint of satisfaction. His thing is surging inside you, it has reached its peak and is about to burst out inside you.

His body is tense, his breathing is laboured, he’s trying his best to contain himself, to hold on a little longer, but it’s getting difficult. He groans again, his body shaking slightly, like he’s fighting hard against an invisible force. He moans, “I…I…I need..”

You feel it’s hurting your buttocks, he gripped it so hardly to increased your pleasure because he reached the edge was about to exposed. The sweat, the passion, the breath, the satisfaction and the pain. You clutched him tightly and moan louder don’t care anymore. All of the sensations pushed both of you two reached the climax in the same time.

It was like a race, a race to see who could reach the edge first, but you both could tell that you were both close, so close to the moment when nothing else mattered but the two of you, and the pleasure that you shared. His body is on fire, the sweat is trickling down his skin, his breathing is desperate, like he’s trying to catch his breath and failing.

Your body was full of his marks, some were fading, but most of them were brand new. He’d made sure to cover you in them, to leave his mark all over you and make sure that others knew you were his. He can’t say anything, his office surrounded by pants and moans, every part of body tense as both of you struggles with pleasure.

He’s trying to hold on, to not let himself burst. He’s groaning like it’s taking all his strength to hold back. It’s becoming difficult for him to hold back, he’s panting and moaning. He can’t say anything, every part of his body is tense as he. His body is shaking, you feel he’s filling up with his sweet hot juice inside your body.

You panting trying to catch your breath from the excitement and extremely passionate moment with your boss. When he finally releases, he let out a deep guttural moan, like a mixture of relief and satisfaction. He’s trying to catch his breath, panting and sweaty. “That…that was amazing.”

You chuckle at him after he moved away from you. With your last stamina, you pushed yourself up to sitting on the desk, the desk is messing like hell. Both of you completely ignored what surroundings both of you and buried each other in intimate moments. “Wow…that was extremely rough time.”

He looked at you, laughing slightly as you pushed yourself up to sit on his desk, your body still recovering from the activities.He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the messy desk, it was a clear indication of what had just happened between the two of you. He said, panting slightly. “Yeah, it was. Didn’t expect us to get so… rough.”

He continued looking at you, taking in the sight of your body covered in marks, the proof of what had just happened between the two of you. His body was still shaking slightly, his breath panting as he tried to regain his composure. “You’re…a naughty one.”

You pouted and swinging your legs playfully at him. You pulled him closer to his unbuttoned his suit jacket and pressed a red lipstick kiss mark inside his white shirt. You buttoned his suit jacket and whispered. “Because I’m your favorite assistant. So I’m allowed being naughty with you.”

He watched carefully as you buttoned his suit jacket, and didn’t protest once, letting you do as you please. When you whispered that you were his favorite assistant and allowed to be naughty with him, he smirked and nodded. “That’s true, you’re my favorite after all. But don’t get too carried away.”

You playfully pressed his cheek a kiss when both of you satisfied, then noticed the what time the clock showed. There are still ten minutes before the meeting time. You see that you are a little messy, you immediately get off from his desk and before you go to the bathroom to clean yourself up, especially your private parts. You winking at him. “Got to go, need to clean myself.”

He looked at the mess you left behind, with the slightly tousled desk and the chair. He let out a slight sigh and began fixing himself up a little, his tie, his hair, and his suit jacket. When he was done, he looked at the time. Ten minutes before the meeting.

The way the desk was messy, the way the room smelled, everything was a constant reminder of what had just happened between the two of you. He smirked, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction and excitement. He was the type of man to get off on taking control and having power over others, and having you as his assistant added an extra layer of excitement to it.

He adjusted his tie and fixed his hair, making sure he looked composed and presentable. It was important for him to maintain an air of professionalism, even though the two of you had just engaged in some rather unprofessional activities.

He took a moment to sit behind his desk and take a few deep breaths to compose himself. He still couldn’t believe what had just happened, but he was also feeling a sense of excitement and curiosity about how the rest of the day would play out.

After cleaning yourself, you notice that both your legs have his marks. You have no choice but to put on black semi sheer stockings to cover up the marks on your legs so that others won't ask you unnecessary questions. You leave the bathroom and pick up the meeting materials on his desk. “Shall we go? My favorite boss.”

He noticed the black semi sheer stockings that you had put on to cover up the marks left on your legs. It’s kinda seductive and sexy looking at them. A small smirk formed on his face as he knew exactly what you were covering up.He stood up from his desk and smoothed out his clothes, making sure he looked presentable. “We shall, my favorite assistant.”

He couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on you for a moment, appreciating the way the stockings fit you perfectly. He knew that he was the only one who would know what was under them, and the thought of that made him feel both possessive and intrigued. He stepped closer to you and put a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the meeting room.

Both of you walked side by side down the corridor, your bodies close together. Both of you walked in the same pace in the corridor, both of you satisfied with each other passionately. You stole a glance at him and whispered. “Did you think future I have to cover my legs with stockings?”

He could feel your warmth beside him, he was secretly satisfied knowing that only he knew what was under those stockings. He chuckled slightly. He looked down at your legs covered in stockings and then back up at you. “Well... that depends on me. Do you think you’ll have to wear them again in the future?”

You look around to confirm that is no one is around the corridors. You pulled him closer and whispered in his ears and bitten his earlobe. “If you bite me and leave me marks again.”

He couldn’t help but shiver a little at the feeling of your breath on his skin. He smirked and leaned in closer to you, his voice low and playful. “If I leave more marks on you, you know I'll expect you to wear stockings again. I don't want anyone else to see what's mine, my favorite assistant.”

Both of you chuckled at each other. As you continued walking. He glanced at you again, appreciating the way the stockings accentuated your legs, and the thought of leaving more marks on you filled his mind with excitement. But for now, he had to focus on the meeting, despite the distractions of his very naughty little assistant.

Bonus Part

Over the next few weeks, a unspoken agreement had been established between the two of you. During work hours, you both maintained a professional and respectful attitude as boss and personal assistant, keeping your true feelings and relationship masked from your colleagues.

However, when the two of you were alone together, that professional facade melted away, replaced by a passionate and intense connection. Keeping your relationship a secret added a thrill and a sense of the forbidden to your connection.

One day, he had a sly idea in mind to spice things up a little bit. Without warning, he went out and bought a wireless sex toy, specifically a remote-controlled vibrator. With a devious smile, he put the vibrator in the box and then placed the box in the drawer of your desk. He then made his way to the office, and he had the remote control in his pocket.

As expected, you were surprised by the appearance of a mysterious box on your desk. After opening it, you found a wireless vibrator, with the control remote missing. You couldn’t help but feel a little puzzled and intrigued. Just then he appeared at your desk, a sly smile on his face. He leaned against the desk. “I see you found my little surprise.”

You held back your smile and looked at the little fun thing he gave you under the desk. This guy is adding to the fun of the little game between us. “So…what game you going to play this time?”

He gave you a wink and then pushed himself away from the desk, casually walking away, leaving you guessing what he had in store for you. “You know me. I like to keep things interesting. Let’s just say… I have a little plan. Just make sure you keep that thing.”

You chuckle at his back as he left your office, and took out the instruction manual to read. Put the toy in underwear and put it on to fit your sensitive parts. Then use the wireless remote control to control the intensity of the vibration to bringing the pleasure. The intensity levels range from low to high.

But then, you realized that there was no remote control in the box. Bruce must have it, which meant he would be the one controlling the intensity of the vibration. You couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and slight nervousness at the thought.

As you carefully placed the toy in your thong, you could feel a strong sense of excitement and anticipation building within you. The friction against your sensitive parts only served to heighten the sensation. You stand up and walk towards his office, the feeling of the toy against your body making every step feel pleasurable.

When you reach his office, you knock on his door and wait for his response, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. He looked up from his desk when he heard the knock on his door, he had been anticipating your arrival. He leaned back in his chair and called out. “Come in.”

He watched as you entered the room, closing the door behind you. A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he noticed the slight change in your gait. He sees you tapping on his desk, indicating that you have used the toy. He quickly cuts off his conversation and gives you a subtle nod, conveying that he got your message.

You stand nearby, maintaining a professional and focused demeanor, notebook in hand as you record the topics of the conversation. Suddenly, you feel a slight vibration in your thong, catching you off guard. You try your best to keep your composure, but the pleasure is undeniable.

He continues talking business, all the while discreetly adjusting the intensity of the vibration using the remote control. His eyes flicker up at you, a hint of amusement and control in his gaze. He keeps the vibration at a low, tantalizing level, wanting to draw it out and tease you further.

He can see your efforts to maintain a focused demeanor, but the small tells in your body language give away the pleasure you're feeling. He notices the slight flush in your cheeks, the clench of your thighs, the way your breath hitches ever so slightly.

You grip the pen tightly, trying to keep your focus on writing in the notebook as each time the vibration increases, your grip on the pen gets harder. He smirks at the way you're desperately trying to keep your cool, clearly enjoying the effect the toy is having on you. He keeps adjusting the intensity discreetly, watching as your hand trembles slightly with every increase in vibration.

He looks away from you to continue the conversation, but he keeps the vibration level as it is, enjoying the way you squirm and try to keep your voice steady. The continuous vibrations were starting to cause a new, noticeable effect on you. You were so focused on maintaining your composure that you hadn't realized how turned on you had become.

You were grateful that you had chosen to wear a black dress that day, because you could feel your wetness without even realizing it. The feeling was both pleasurable and maddening. He looks at you again, taking in your appearance. He can tell from the way you're standing that you're uncomfortable, but he just smirks and continues the conversation with the subordinate.

The sudden onslaught of the highest vibration setting was almost too much to bear. You had to do everything in your power to hold it together, biting your lip to keep from moaning out loud.

You quickly tried to distract yourself by coughing loudly, hoping that the people in the room would think you're just clearing your throat. "Ahem. Sorry, my throat is itchy…"

He looks at you, his smirk widening as he sees the effect the toy is having on you. He notices the way you bite your lip and cough to cover up any moans. He asks, feigning concern in his voice. "Are you okay? You look a little flushed."

You cleared your throat again, and kicked his chair under his desk. “Ahem, thanks for your concern, I’m good, just my throat a little itchy. Mr Bruce Wayne….”

He felt a wave of excitement wash over him. He knew that you were getting desperate, and he loved seeing you struggle to maintain your cool. When you spoke his name, he gave you a sly smile and continued his conversation like nothing was wrong. “I’m glad to hear that. Just let me know if you need anything."

You clutched the pen and notebook tightly. You stilled maintain your professional attitude in front of them. “If you say so, may I leave for a while? I need to use the bathroom.”

He looked at you with a nonchalant expression, as if the toy wasn't affecting you at all. He nodded. As you turned to leave, he casually increased the vibration level. As you were about to leave, the vibrations suddenly intensified, and you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips.

“Kya!!!”You gasped and stumbled a little, catching yourself against the doorframe. You felt your knees buckle and your body trembled, the pleasure overwhelming you.The sudden increase in intensity was too much for you to handle and before you could even leave the room, a loud moan escaped your lips.

The sudden outburst immediately caught the attention of everyone in the room, including the subordinates. They looked at you with a surprised expression, while Bruce just smirked. He knew damn well that you were only using it as an excuse to cover up your actual reason for moaning.

You squatted awkwardly on the ground, feigning a pain in your heel caused by the high heels you were wearing, knowing that it was a weak excuse, but it was all you could think of in the moment. "Sorry. These heels just don't fit right."

He tried to hold back his smile as he watched you make up an excuse for your outburst. He could see the way you were trembling slightly, the flush in your cheeks, and the way your eyes were unfocused. He leaned back in his chair, trying to look casual and unbothered, but his mind was racing with all the things he wanted to do to you.

Meanwhile, the subordinate looked at you, a little worried. "Are you okay," he asked tentatively.

You stood up as quickly as possible, feeling the wetness that had already started to soak through your thong. You tried to maintain a professional expression and a charming smile as you thanked the subordinate for their concern. “Thanks for your concern, now I have to excuse myself.”

As you left the room, he leaned back in his chair and watched you go, his eyes fixed on your ass just a bit too long. He could see the way you were walking, slightly unsteady and squirmy, and he knew that the toy was still running at full blast.

The sight of you leaving the room, desperate to get some relief, was driving him wild. He shifted in his seat, trying to suppress the thoughts that were going through his mind.

After the meeting was finally over, Bruce dismissed the subordinate and sat back in his chair, his mind still preoccupied with thoughts of you. He leaned back in his chair and waited for you to return, wondering how you were holding up after the toy had been tormenting you for so long.

Thankfully you brought spare clothes with you, you returned to his office. When no one was around, you locked the door. You approached him, straddled his lap, and lifted his chin. “Such a naughty boss you are. You’re gonna make me squirt in front of others.”

His eyes roaming over your body. He let you lift his chin, tilting his head back to look at you better. He looked up at you with a sly smile. His hands moving to rest on your hips. “Can you blame me, though? You look absolutely gorgeous.”

You pouted acting like you angry and pressed a quick kiss on his lips. You asked him in playful tone. “Even I squirted in front of others?”

He chuckled at your playful pout, enjoying the way you tried to act mad. As you pressed a quick kiss on his lips, he couldn't help but smile. "Especially if you squir—“

He was cut off by a knock on the door, breaking the moment. He cursed under his breath, frustrated at the interruption. You chuckle at him especially when he makes that face, you tickling his chin with fingers and teasing him. “Aww, don’t be mad. Tonight my apartment. You still keep the key?”

He chuckled at your playful touch, enjoying the feeling of your fingers tickling his chin. When you mentioned your apartment and the key. He looked at you with a mischievous smile, his eyes flickering with desire. “Tonight, then. I'll be there.”

— The End —

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[st4rpiece]

tall girl epidemic

SFW

characters: luffy, zoro, usopp, kidd x reader summary: op men who love tall women CW: jealousy (kidd) but aside from that just fluff [specified reader physical traits include: height (obviously), body scars, and multiple different body types (chubby/curvy, buff/muscular, skinny/slim)]

─────────────⋆ฺ｡*:･

Monkey D. Luffy

Since meeting you, Luffy hasn’t stopped lifting you up into the air for the silliest reasons. He wants a snack? Suddenly, you’re in his arms, tagging along to the kitchen. Running from an enemy? There you are again, scooped up like you’re part of the escape plan. It didn’t matter the situation—if Luffy decided it was easier to carry you, he’d do it without hesitation.

At first, it caught you off guard. After all, you weren’t exactly small. At 6’5, you were taller than most, and your solid frame was a testament to years of training and battle. You weren’t delicate or light, and yet Luffy carried you like it was nothing, grinning all the while like hauling you around was as easy as lifting a feather.

“Doesn’t this ever get tiring?” you’d finally asked one day, your tone half-amused, half-exasperated as he picked you up for the third time in a single afternoon.

He tilted his head, flashing you that carefree smile of his. “Nope!”

“Seriously?”

He giggled, spinning you once before setting you down gently. “I just like having you in my arms! You’re fun to carry.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m not a toy, Lu. If anything, I should be carrying you. It makes way more sense.”

“I don’t think so, plus you’ve carried me before,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, as if the occasional over the shoulder ride after a battle evened the score. “So it’s only fair I get to carry you too!”

You didn’t have much of a rebuttal for that, so you just sighed and let him have his way. Truthfully, you didn’t mind all that much.

Being with Luffy was exciting—not just because of the adventures or the friends you’d made thanks to him, but because of how he made you feel. You’d never been the type to consider yourself “delicate” or “soft.” You were a warrior in your country, someone who had earned her place through grit and strength. Your body bore the scars of countless battles, and your imposing stature had always been enough to make others think twice before approaching you.

But none of that seemed to matter to Luffy.

He never treated you like you were intimidating or unreachable. Instead, he saw you in a way no one else ever had—as someone strong, yes, but also someone worth cherishing. He didn’t limit your freedom or strength, didn’t try to box you into a role that didn’t fit. But somehow, even with all that respect, he still managed to make you feel like a fragile princess in the best way.

And it was never in a way that undermined who you were. He’d wrap you up in his stretchy arms when you were upset, pulling you into one of his over-the-top hugs, but he’d laugh and tell you how cool you looked when you took down an opponent twice your size, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

“That was amazing!“ he’d say with the same enthusiasm he gave to talking about meat or a beetle, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

It was strange at first, this mix of being treated like someone soft and someone indestructible, but Luffy had a way of balancing both without ever making it feel forced.

It was early in your relationship, when both developed the habit of sitting on the deck and watching the stars after dinner. You would fiddled with the brim of his hat that rested on your head as he leaned back, resting his arms behind his head.

“You know,” you started, your voice softer than usual, “I don’t really get you sometimes.”

“Huh? What’s there to get?” he asked, turning to look at you with wide, curious eyes.

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “Just… the way you treat me, I guess.”

“What about it?”

“It’s just different from what i’m use to,” you admitted, your gaze dropping to the deck. “Most people either treat me like I’m too strong to need anyone or that I’m not…feminine enough to deserve proper treatment.”

Luffy frowned at that, sitting up and tilting his head. “That’s dumb.”

You looked at him, a little startled by the bluntness of his response. “What?”

“They’re dumb,” he said simply, shrugging as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re strong and you’re pretty. Why would it be one or the other?”

His words were so straightforward, so unfiltered, that you didn’t know how to respond. You could feel your cheeks warming, and you quickly looked away, pretending to adjust his hat.

“Anyway,” he continued, leaning back on his hands again, “I like you and the crew likes you just the way you are. And if other people can’t see how awesome you are, that’s their problem, not yours.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, letting his words settle over you. Then, with a small smile tugging at your lips, you reached over and gently tugged on his cheek.

“Cheesy,” you muttered, but there was no heat behind your words.

“And you love it,” he teased, grinning as he leaned into your hand.

You couldn’t argue with that. And honestly, you didn’t want to. He was right, you did love it.

Roronoa Zoro

Zoro claimed he didn’t have a type. He wasn’t exactly experienced in the dating world, and honestly? He’d settle for the first person who asked him out. His standards when it comes to dating were low, maybe embarrassingly so. He figured relationships didn’t need to be complicated, and it doesn’t help that romance isn’t something he gives much thought to.

His ideologies for sure had Nami rolling her eyes so hard she nearly sprained something while she “convinced” him to go on this blind date. (Probably just mentioned sake).

“Don’t embarrass me,” she’d said, narrowing her eyes at him. “Just…try to be normal.”

Zoro wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by that, but here he was, sitting in a dimly lit restaurant and already regretting the whole thing. He didn’t have much in the way of expectations, and if he was being honest, he’d already been planning how to politely bail when the evening inevitably turned awkward.

What he wasn’t expecting, though, was you.

When the doors opened and you walked in, Zoro thought for a second that maybe Nami had set him up as some kind of joke. You were…tall. Really tall. At least 6’7, towering over everyone else in the room like it was nothing. But it wasn’t just your height that threw him for a loop. No, it was the way you carried yourself—strong and confident, with curves that made his mouth feel suddenly dry.

And then you smiled.

It was the kind of smile that could light up a whole damn room, warm and genuine, and Zoro had no idea what to do with himself. He froze in place, staring at you like an idiot as you approached the table.

But just as you reached it, you bumped into the corner, your face twisting into an embarrassed grimace as you muttered a barely audible, “Sorry.”

You adjusted your stance quickly, smoothing out your clothes before meeting his gaze. The confident smile returned, but there was a hint of nervousness in your eyes now as you introduced yourself, “…and you must be Zoro.”

Zoro blinked, realizing he’d been sitting there silently like a moron. He cleared his throat, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. “Uh…yeah. That’s me.”

For the first time in a long time, Zoro didn’t know what to say. You were stunning—intimidatingly so, but not in a bad way. More like in a way that made him feel completely unprepared.

“I, uh…didn’t expect…” He trailed off, realizing how stupid that sounded. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to find the words. “I mean…it’s nice to meet you.”

You smiled again, a little softer this time, and sat down across from him. The chair groaned slightly under your weight, but you barely seemed to notice. Zoro, however, was hyper-aware of everything about you—the way your hair framed your face, the faint scent of your perfume, and the way you fiddled with your hands nervously even though you looked like someone who could crush him without breaking a sweat.

“So,” you said, your voice breaking the silence, “should we just dive into the awkward small talk, or do you want to skip straight to figuring out if we’re compatible?”

Zoro smirked, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Depends. What kind of small talk are we talking about?”

“Well, for starters,” you said, leaning in just a little, “what’s the deal with Nami setting us up? She made it seep like you were being held at gun point when you agreed to come.”

Zoro let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s ‘cause I was. Basically told me that I needed to stop being a ‘grumpy loner’ and put myself out there.”

“Well, are you a grumpy loner?” you teased, arching a brow.

“Depends on the day,” he replied, his lips twitching into a rare smile.

The conversation began to flow more naturally after that, and Zoro found himself surprisingly at ease in your presence. You were funny, sharp-witted, and refreshingly down-to-earth. And despite your intimidating height and striking appearance, you had this endearing mix of confidence and awkwardness that made Zoro’s chest feel…weird. Warm, maybe.

He wasn’t sure what it was yet, but one thing was certain: Nami might’ve been onto something.

And as the night went on, Zoro started thinking that maybe—just maybe—he had a type after all.

God Usopp

Usopp’s ability to turn his lies into facts never failed to amaze his crew, no matter how many times it happened. Whether it was fooling enemies into thinking he had an army at his back or convincing others he’d singlehandedly taken down giants, his bluffs always seemed to find a way to come true.

But this time, it felt like he might’ve gone too far.

The night had started innocently enough. They’d walked into the bustling bar, ready to unwind after a long day, and Usopp had quickly taken center stage, boasting to anyone who’d listen about his supposed luck with women. According to him, he had a magnetic charm—women practically threw themselves at him. He spun story after story, weaving tales of effortless flirtations and grand romances, all while nursing his drink like it was the elixir fueling his confidence.

The crew had been amused, as usual, letting him have his moment. That was, until he pushed his luck.

“I’ll prove it to you,” Usopp declared suddenly, slamming his glass down on the table for dramatic effect. “The next woman who walks through that door, I’ll ask her out!”

“Yeah, right,” Zoro snorted, leaning back in his chair with a skeptical smirk.

“Bet you a thousand berries you’ll chicken out,” Sanji added, lighting a cigarette.

Even Luffy was grinning ear to ear, clearly enjoying the show.

Fueled by their jeers and the buzz of alcohol in his system, Usopp puffed out his chest, confidence radiating off him. “Wait and see! I’ll show you virgin’s how it’s done!”

And then the door swung open.

You walked in, tall, curvy, and striking, with an air of quiet shyness that somehow made you even more intriguing. Your height was intimidating, sure—enough to make most people hesitate—but that didn’t stop the crew’s attention from snapping right to you.

Unfortunately for Usopp, his confidence evaporated the second he saw you. His jaw dropped slightly, and he sank lower in his seat, as if trying to disappear.

Too hot. Way too hot, he thought, panic rising in his chest.

There was absolutely no way he could approach you. But before he could retract his bold declaration, Luffy—ever the instigator—practically shouted across the bar:

“Hey Usopp, a girl just walked in!”

The room went quiet for a beat, every head turning toward your direction—including yours.

Usopp froze, his face turning beet red as the crew burst into laughter at his horrified expression. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, wishing the floor would swallow him whole.

“Don’t back out now, lover boy,” Zoro teased, raising his glass.

Sanji smirked, blowing out a puff of smoke. “Yeah, come on lover boy. Show us “virgin’s” how it’s done.”

It took a solid five minutes of relentless goading, prodding, and Sanji’s smug remarks before Usopp finally caved. His legs felt like lead as he dragged himself across the bar toward your table, his nerves threatening to take him out entirely.

You, meanwhile, had been watching the whole ordeal out of the corner of your eye, trying not to laugh. It was obvious the group of men was teasing him, but when you saw him hesitantly approach your table, his cheeks flushed and his hands fidgeting at his sides, something about his awkward determination made your heart skip.

“H-Hey,” he stammered, stopping in front of you. He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact as he forced himself to speak. “I, uh… I couldn’t help but notice you walked in, and, um…I just wanted to say you look—uh—really nice. Really, uh…really pretty, actually.”

Your face warmed at his words, and you offered him a small smile. “Thank you,” you said softly, finding his obvious nerves oddly endearing.

He exhaled sharply, relieved that you hadn’t immediately brushed him off. “So, uh…I was wondering if I could maybe, um, buy you a drink? If you don’t mind, that is.”

He was a stuttering mess, barely able to hold your gaze for more than a second, but his earnestness was hard to ignore.

You chuckled nervously, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Sure. I’d like that.”

The two of you spent the rest of the night talking, your initial shyness melting away as you realized just how much you had in common. Usopp, despite his earlier bluster, turned out to be easy to talk to once he got past his nerves. He told you about his adventures (embellished, of course), and you shared a few stories of your own, laughing at his exaggerated reactions.

By the end of the night, the two of you were sitting closer, your heads nearly touching as you exchanged quiet words amidst the noisy bar. When he finally asked for your number—his voice cracking slightly as he did—it was an easy “yes.”

When he returned to his crew, they were in shock.

“Huh, you actually got her number?” Zoro asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sanji looked like he was about to faint. “How?!”

Even Luffy was impressed, clapping Usopp on the back with a wide grin.

Usopp grinned cheekily, slipping his hands into his pockets as he tried to play it cool. “What can I say? The ladies can’t resist the great Captain Usopp.”

But the blush on his face—and the way his gaze kept darting back to you—told a different story.

Eustass Kidd

Kidd wasn’t a small guy—not in height, not in build, and definitely not in personality. He was used to being the one towering over others, the one commanding attention in every room. But then there was you.

You weren’t exactly small, either. You were tall enough to meet his gaze, tall enough that he had to actually look up when you wore certain shoes. And somehow, that fact alone drove him up the wall. It wasn’t just your height, either—it was the way you used it. The way you leaned down just enough to get in his face during arguments, a teasing smirk on your lips that made his blood boil. It wasn’t clear whether he wanted to bite you or kiss you senseless. Hell, maybe both.

Your slim, graceful frame only added to your air of superiority, and the way you carried yourself—poised and unapologetically confident, like some untouchable princess—clashed with Kidd’s brash, rough-edged demeanor in ways that sent sparks flying.

The first time you joined his crew, he’d made it very clear he wasn’t thrilled about the idea. “This ship has no room for some tall, prissy princess who can’t even fight properly,” he’d snarled, his tone biting.

Yet, every time the idea of you leaving came up, he was the first to shoot it down. He always had some half-baked excuse—“We need the extra hands,” or “No one else can handle that task but her.” But the truth was glaringly obvious to everyone but him: he didn’t want you to go.

You, of course, loved to needle him about it. Whether it was teasing him about his temper, calling him “short” just to see him fume, or subtly challenging his authority just to watch him rise to the bait, you knew exactly how to get under his skin.

And right now, you were doing it without even trying.

The crew was docked on an island for the day, giving everyone a much-needed break. While Kidd had been supervising repairs to the ship, you’d wandered off, only to bump into an old friend. Kidd hadn’t paid much attention until he turned around and saw you hugging some guy—a scrawny, soft-looking guy at that.

Normally, you brushed off men as if they were flies, always quick with a sharp word or a cold glare if they got too close. But now? You were smiling. Laughing. Letting this guy get all touchy, and even worse, you didn’t seem to mind. You’d even waved off the crew, saying you’d catch up later as you wandered off with him.

It was the first time Kidd had seen you without that infuriating sass, without the sarcasm or biting wit. And he hated it. He hated the way his chest tightened when you walked away. Hated the fact that the sight of you being soft with someone else was enough to ruin his mood for the rest of the day.

When you finally came back to the ship, he was waiting for you at the gangplank, arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“Is that seriously your type?” he asked as soon as you got close.

You froze, your brows furrowing. “Excuse me?”

“Thought you would’ve had better taste,” Kidd said, scoffing. “That guy was so scrawny, it’s pathetic. There’s no way he could handle someone like you.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Oh? And who said I wanted to be handled?”

His eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a smirk. “You’re a brat,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Someone’s gotta handle that.”

You raised a brow, stepping closer, your tone dripping with mockery. “And who exactly do you think could “handle” me? You?”

Kidd let out a sharp laugh, one that had the crew glancing over in curiosity. “Damn right,” he growled, and before you could say another word, he grabbed you.

With an ease that startled you, he hoisted you over his shoulder, ignoring your yelp of surprise and the way you immediately started struggling.

“Kidd! Put me down, you overgrown idiot!” you shouted, kicking your legs as he started walking.

“Try asking nicely, princess,” he said with a cocky grin, as he continued to carry you below deck as if you weighed nothing.

By the time he dumped you onto the mattress in his quarters, you were fuming, your face hot with embarrassment. You scrambled to sit up, ready to give him a piece of your mind, but he cut you off, stepping closer and leaning down just enough to cage you in.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he said, his voice though quieter now, was still rough around the edges. “Always in my face, always mouthing off, always making me question whether I hate you or…” He trailed off, his gaze flickering down to your lips before snapping back up to meet your eyes.

You stared at him, your breath catching in your throat. “Or what?” you whispered, your voice unsteady.

“Or want you,” he finished bluntly. “And I’m sick of pretending it’s not the second one.”

Your heart skipped at his confession, and for once, you were at a loss for words. You’d always assumed he couldn’t stand you—that all the bickering and banter was just part of his general dislike for you. But now, with the way he was looking at you, his expression uncharacteristically soft, you weren’t so sure anymore.

Before you could gather your thoughts, he straightened slightly, his voice dropping. “Can I kiss you?”

The question caught you completely off guard, your cheeks heating as you stared up at him. Kidd never asked for anything—he just took. But now, with his sharp edges momentarily softened, waiting for your answer, it made your chest ache in a way you didn’t expect.

Swallowing your nerves, you nodded slowly. “Yeah,” you murmured.

The moment your words left your mouth, Kidd closed the gap, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was surprisingly gentle. It wasn’t rushed or forceful—it was steady, deliberate, and filled with a heat that sent a shiver down your spine.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, a rare, crooked smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re still a brat,” he muttered, his voice laced with affection.

“And you’re still an overgrown idiot,” you shot back, though there was no venom in your words.

He chuckled, his fingers brushing lightly against your jaw. “And yet you let this overgrown idiot kiss you.”

You didn’t have a clever comeback for that—not this time. Instead, you leaned up, pulling him back into another kiss, letting it speak for you instead.

─────────────⋆ฺ｡*:･

One Piece Masterlist

not proofread!!

i imagined reader to be over 6’ for those whose heights aren’t explicitly stated. also i am not tall so i hopefully i did the tall girlies justice!!

[willing to do a part two of this with any other op men or women :p]

also happy new year!!

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 3

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy, seizures and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lizzie’s books were doorstoppers. Literally. So thick that Lando just about managed to shove all three of them into his backpack…and nearly broke the zipper while doing that.

He just hoped that him buying these books wasn’t gonna show up on social media any time soon but he didn’t have much trust in that.

He could already imagine the field day that people would have with seeing him of all people buying romance and fantasy books. (Or romantasy as Lizzie had called them…)

The cashier at the bookstore had checked him out with a slightly puzzled look, and she almost seemed to be holding back a grin.

And it wasn’t like Lando hadn’t already started listening to the dramatised audiobook version either…he just figured he should have options, y‘know? 

Especially when that Ciaran guy with the wings was voiced by some Scottish bloke with a voice like gravel. Meanwhile, Astrid had the lilting accent of Wales in her voice… and then there was the fact that some of the…scenes sounded rather… they were definitely not appropriate for…company.

Still he thought that he could probably listen to another few hours of that on the flight…or he would just like…skip…the…some of the stuff that Lizzie had apparently written and that made him think about things that he probably shouldn’t be thinking about…especially not with a Race coming up and the fact that the girl he had gone on two dates with was an ocean away. 

Still, thank god for private flights. It was just gonna be him and Oscar and Max, who would come along to Miami.

Maybe Lando should have known that it was a bad idea. He had imagined it so easily. Put on head phones, put on the audiobook and zone out for a little while…

Instead Lando managed to not actually pair his headphones with his phone… And seconds later his phone was blaring “A Spring of Secrets and Thorns” for Oscar and Max to hear, including a particular… intimate scene he had reached…

His wings spread wide as he pulled her closer, the heat of his body enveloping hers as they shared a heated kiss. Ciaran’s hand traced the curve of Astrid’s back, his wings brushing her skin as the tension between them grew unbearable…

Oscar and Max simultaneously turned their heads toward Lando, eyes wide, their expressions somewhere between shock and amusement.

Oscar's eyebrows were raised so high, they almost touched his hairline. He looked like he was barely holding back a fit of laughter. Even Max looked amused.

Lando just slumped back in his seat, feeling his face grow hot. He didn't need a mirror to know that he was turning bright red. He fumbled with his phone, desperately trying to turn it off.

“What the hell is that?” Max finally choked out.

“Are you listening to racy audiobooks now?” Oscar demanded.

Lando's fingers finally closed around the power button on his phone, cutting off the sound. He avoided their eyes, knowing he looked guilty as hell.

"It's nothing," he mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant.

Oscar just burst out laughing. "Oh yeah? Sounded like it was definitely something, mate."

Lando felt like he could melt into the seat, his face practically glowing.

“Wait,” Oscar said suddenly. “I think I know that book. Is that the Astrid and Ciaran book? Lily’s been going on about it for months. That’s her favorite series. I didn’t know you were a romance guy, Lando.”

Lando's eyes widened in horror. Of course, Oscar would know what book it was. There nearly never ended a day without Oscar being texted by his girlfriend about whatever new book Lily was currently reading. 

"I am definitely not a romance guy," he protested, trying to save what little dignity he had left.

But Max was grinning now, clearly enjoying the situation. "Oh, so you just happen to have a romance/fantasy book on your phone for... for what reason, exactly?" his best friend asked him, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“It’s Lizzie’s favourite,” he blurted out. “I just wanted to see what the fuss is about.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was..well. He wasn’t about to tell Oscar and Max that Lizzie was the actual author of that book series…he would probably neer live down the teasing for reasding her books then…though now that Lando was thinking about it, he wasn’t quite sure that telling them that he was reading her favourite books was much better. 

“Lizzie?” Oscar asked curiously.

“Hasn’t Lando told you? He finally managed to ask out the cafe girl,"Max said drily. “You know the one he has been crushing on for months.”

Max's words hung in the air for a moment, and Lando shot him a poisonous look. Max just smirked back like the cocky bastard he was, clearly enjoying throwing Lando under the bus.

Oscar looked surprised, eyes wide as he turned his gaze to Lando. "Wait, seriously? You managed to ask her out?"

Lando sighed, knowing there was no going back now. He should’ve known better than to let Max in on his relationship with Lizzie in the first place. And now, of course he would go and blurt it out in front of Oscar. “Yeah, I did, okay?” he admitted, though his tone was defensive.

“Finally,” Oscar said with a shake of his head. “It was getting depressing.”

Lando shot him a glare but didn’t argue. 

Max was, predictably, trying not laugh.  “It was kind of pathetic,” he said with a grin.

“Piss off, both of you,” Lando grumbled. “I didn’t know what to say to her, alright? It’s complicated.” Lando defended himself.

“Mate, you spent three months buying pastries you didn’t even like in a cafe so you could stare at a random girl. That’s not complicated, that’s obsessive. And then you pawned off said pastries to every poor unsuspecting McLaren engineer you could find,” Oscar said with a laugh.

“Lando, please tell me you didn’t actually do that?” Max asked, sounding like he was holding back a laugh.

Lando felt his face grow hotter. He’d hoped Oscar wouldn’t mention that particular fact.

“I mean …” he hedged, but a look from Oscar shut him up real fast.  “Okay, yeah, maybe I did,” he admitted, reluctantly. “But it’s not that big a deal, alright?”

“How did you even finally manage to ask her out?” Oscar asked with an unbelieving laugh. “You did ask her out, right? You didn’t like…stalk her and found out her favourite book some other way?”

“Of course, I asked her out, you jerk,” Lando shot back, feeling his embarrassment turn into irritation. “And no, I didn’t stalk her. I just asked her.”

Max laughed, clearly still finding this whole thing highly amusing. “Her dog finally took pity of him,” he quipped to Oscar. “She got a service dog that alerted to Lando, then he somehow managed to get her number. How was that dinner by the way?”

He could feel his cheeks heating up again as Max reminded him of that part.

“It was…nice,” he muttered, hoping they would move on from the topic.

Oscar was watching him with an amused gleam in his eyes. “And now you are trying to impress her even further by reading books you would normally never touch?” he teased.

Lando huffed. “It’s not like that,” he said defensively. “I’m just…trying new things. Broadening my horizons.”

“Reading romance books is broadening your horizons?” Max asked, clearly trying not to laugh again. “That’s a new one.”

Lando gritted his teeth, his temper flaring. He knew they were just winding him up, but it was starting to get annoying. “You know what, forget it,” he snapped.

“Fine by me,” Oscar said, still grinning like the bastard he was. “But I’ve got a feeling that you’re gonna get hooked on those books.”

Lando rolled his eyes but didn't respond. He had no intention of telling them that he was already a fourth of the way into the first book…and that actually, he really wanted to know what happened between Ciaran and Astrid. And what the heck was going on with Quinn? He didn’t trust that guy at all…

“And who knows,” Oscar continued. “Maybe reading all those romance books will help you woo your cafe girl. You know when the dog needed to help you ask her out…”

“Don’t you dare say a thing about Mara,” Lando snapped. “She’s a wonder dog! Do you know how important service dogs are for people with epilepsy?”

Oscar stared at him, blinking twice, clearly surprised by his outburst. 

“No need to be so touchy about it,” Max said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But still, you’re a world-class racing driver, and a Labrador had more game than you,” he teased, clearly enjoying Lando’s increasing irritation.

“She has epilepsy?” Oscar asked curiously. “One of my mates from boarding school has that.”

Lando nodded, his irritation easing slightly. “Yeah,” he said, trying to rein in his earlier irritation. “She can have seizures without warning. They can be really bad, so the dog is trained to let her know when one is coming...She had another seizure a day before we were supposed to go out to dinner, so we had dinner at her home instead."

Oscar grimaced in sympathy. "That sucks, man," he said sincerely. "Is she doing alright, though?"

Lando nodded. "Yeah, she's doing fine now," he said, his tone noticeably softer. "They just leave her feeling like garbage, but she's mostly fine. It's just...it freaks me out, you know," he said with a grimace. "She can't control her seizures obviously, but they leave her feeling so shitty and there is nothing that I or anybody else can do to make her feel better."

“Sounds pretty rough,” Max said, now sounding sincere as well. “But it’s nice that she has a service dog,” he added, nodding at Lando. “That’s gotta help.”

Oscar watched him with an unreadable expression on his face. "Don't bite off my head, alright?" He said carefully. "But...have you thought about what that is going to mean in your relationship going forward? She will always have epilepsy, Lando. That's not going to be an illness she will ever grow out of or get healed from. Even when they find a medication that makes her mostly seizure free...she will still always have it. Will you be able to deal with that?"

Lando tensed at the question. He had thought about it before, of course, how could he not? "It's not like I'm going to dump her because she has epilepsy," he snapped, though there was a hint of defensiveness in his voice. "I'm not an arsehole."

"That's not what I meant," Oscar said drily. "I mean, that she is probably not going to come along with you on one of your night clubs night outs, with flashing lights and plenty of alcohol. She's also not one of the random super model girlfriends that you date for three weeks and then dump and never talk to again."

Lando bristled at the mention of his "supermodel girlfriends", but he knew there was truth to what Oscar was saying. Lizzie was different, and he had known that from the start.

"I know that," he said, his tone a little bit more defensive than he intended it to be. "I'm not an idiot. I know this is different than what I'm used to. But it's not like she can't go anywhere just because of her epilepsy. She can still have fun."

"Yeah, she totally can," Max agreed. "And I'm pretty sure no one is saying that she can't, man."

Oscar nodded in agreement. "Of course she can, I'm not questioning that. But what I'm trying to say is...if this is going to become serious, do you think that you can deal with it? It's not just going to be the epilepsy, I know that. She's going to have other issues and problems and things that are going to affect both of you. Are you going to be alright with that?"

Lando exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. He knew they weren't trying to be assholes, but they were throwing a lot of hard questions at him.

"I don't know," he admitted, his voice quiet. "I've never had anything like this before. But...I like her, alright? Like, a lot. And it feels different...and like...like it's going to be worth it. Nothing that is worth fighting for is going to come to you easy," he said seriously. "I am not afraid of a challenge."

Oscar and Max were quiet for a moment, both of them looking at him with expressions of surprise and respect respectively. They clearly hadn’t expected him to express himself in that way.

“Damn, mate,” Oscar said finally. “Who are you and what have you done with Lando Norris?”

Lando rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the hint of a smile that curled at the corners of his lips. “Piss off, the both of you,” he said, though his words lacked any real heat.

Max snickered a little. “Okay, we’re going to let you continue listening to your racy audiobooks now.”

"Maybe I should actually read them too," Oscar said thoughtfully. "I mean, Lily loves them."

"Want the hardcovers?" Lando asked, rummaging through his backpack to throw them in Oscar's direction. "Knock yourself out."

Oscar caught the books and looked at them with a look of amusement. Then he gave Lando a smirk. "You sure you are not secretly a fangirl, Norris?"

Lando rolled his eyes again. "Shut up."

"It's even the special edition with sprayed edges," Oscar teased.

"The internet would just love a picture of the two of you reading romance books," Max said drily.

"Go and text Pietra and I bet you that she has heard of these books as well," Oscar said drily. "Seasons of Fate is seemingly what every women between the ages of 20 and 30 is reading right now."