#but yeah no it's been. really. really bad. like.

[moonlightwritingf1]

Barcelona Nights | LN4

⋆˙⟡♡ summary ━━━━━━━ YN gets caught masturbating in the hotel room by Lando.

⋆˙⟡♡ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

⋆˙⟡♡ word count ━━━━━━━ 3.9k

⋆˙⟡♡ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

The Barcelona air was thick with the hum of engines and the buzz of anticipation. Y/n stood on the balcony of the luxurious hotel suite, her fingers gripping the railing as she watched the city lights flicker to life in the distance. She could still hear the faint roar of the crowd from the circuit, even miles away. Her heart had been racing all day, though not because of the cars—Lando’s presence had a way of doing that to her.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. Why did I agree to this? she thought, though deep down, she knew the answer. Lando had been persistent, charming, and borderline irresistible since the moment they’d met six months ago. His playful teasing, his unwavering attention, the way his eyes always seemed to find her in a room—it was intoxicating. And yet, she’d kept her feelings locked away, afraid to admit them even to herself.

The sound of the door opening snapped her out of her thoughts. She turned to see Lando stepping inside, his McLaren cap backwards, his face flushed from the day’s events. “Hey,” he said, his voice warm but slightly breathless. “Sorry it took so long. Post-qualifying stuff, you know how it is.”

Y/n nodded, trying to act casual. “No worries. How’d it go?”

He grinned, that familiar sparkle in his eyes. “P2. Not bad, eh? But honestly, I couldn’t wait to get back here.” He walked over, leaning against the balcony railing beside her. “How about you? Enjoying Barcelona?”

“It’s… different,” she admitted, her gaze drifting back to the skyline. “But nice. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Like I’d leave you behind,” he said lightly, nudging her shoulder with his. His touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she quickly looked away, hoping he didn’t notice.

They stood there in comfortable silence for a while, the city’s energy wrapping around them like a blanket. Finally, Lando straightened up. “Listen, I’ve got some media stuff tomorrow morning early, so I’ll probably be out late tonight. You don’t have to wait up for me, yeah?”

She nodded, though a part of her wished he’d stay. “Got it. Don’t let me keep you.”

He hesitated, studying her face as if searching for something. Then, with a soft smile, he said, “Alright. See you later, yeah?”

“Later,” she echoed, watching as he grabbed a few things from the living room before heading out the door. The lock clicked shut behind him, leaving her alone in the spacious suite.

Y/n wandered back into the living room, her mind buzzing with restless energy. She poured herself a glass of wine, sipping it slowly as she tried to calm her nerves. But the more she sat there, the more aware she became of the tension simmering beneath her skin. It had been building for weeks—months, really—and now, alone in this lavish suite, it felt impossible to ignore.

She set the glass down, her fingers trembling slightly as she made her way to her bedroom. The room was large and elegant, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the city. She closed the curtains, shutting out the world, and began to undress.

Her hands moved slowly, almost reverently, as she peeled off her clothes and let them fall to the floor. The cool air brushed against her bare skin, sending goosebumps across her body. She climbed onto the bed, her heart pounding as she reached for the dildo she’d packed in her luggage. It wasn’t something she normally brought on trips, but something about being here, in this city, in this suite, had compelled her.

She lay back against the pillows, her breath quickening as she positioned the toy between her legs. The first touch sent a jolt of electricity through her, and she bit her lip to stifle a moan. Her hips arched instinctively, craving more, and soon she was lost in the rhythm, her fingers moving in tandem with the toy.

Her thoughts drifted to Lando—his smile, his laugh, the way his eyes crinkled when he teased her. She imagined his hands on her body, his lips on her neck, his voice whispering her name. The fantasy consumed her, and soon she was moaning his name aloud, her hips grinding against the toy as her pleasure built.

Unbeknownst to her, Lando had returned to the suite way earlier than expected. He’d intended to grab something he’d forgotten, but the sound of her soft moans stopped him in his tracks. His breath caught, and he froze, his body reacting instantly to the realization of what was happening.

He crept closer to her bedroom, the door slightly ajar, and peered inside. The sight before him was enough to make his knees weak. Y/n was completely naked, her body glistening with sweat as she rode the dildo with abandon. Her breasts bounced with each movement, her face a mask of ecstasy as she whispered his name between gasps.

Lando’s hand instinctively went to his crotch, where he could feel himself hardening at the sight. He wanted to turn away, to give her privacy, but he was rooted to the spot, transfixed by her raw, unfiltered desire.

Then, as if sensing his presence, Y/n’s eyes flew open, locking onto his. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Her movements faltered, and she scrambled to cover herself, her face flushing crimson. “Lando! Oh my god, I—”

He stepped into the room, holding up a hand to stop her. “Don’t,” he said softly, his voice low and husky. “Don’t apologize.”

She stared at him, her chest heaving as she tried to process what was happening. “I-I didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando took another step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “Neither did I,” he admitted. “But I’m glad I was.”

Her breath hitched as he approached, his presence filling the room. She could see the hunger in his eyes, the same desire that had been simmering between them for months finally coming to a head.

“You were saying my name,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement and something far more primal. “Care to explain why?”

Y/n’s cheeks burned, but she held his gaze, refusing to back down. “What do you think?”

Lando smirked, closing the distance between them until he was standing at the edge of the bed. “I think,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, “that it’s about time we stopped pretending.”

Her heart raced as he leaned down, his face inches from hers. She could feel the heat radiating off his body, the intensity of his gaze making it impossible to look away.

“Lando…” she breathed, her voice trembling.

He cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing gently over her lips. “Tell me what you want, Y/n,” he murmured. “Because I’m done waiting.”

Y/n’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath caught somewhere between panic and desire as Lando’s thumb lingered on her lips. His eyes bore into hers, unrelenting, searching for the truth she had buried so deep inside herself. The air between them was charged, electric, and she felt like a single word could ignite everything.

“I…” she started, her voice barely audible, but Lando didn’t let her finish.

“No more hiding,” he said firmly, his hand still cradling her face. “Tell me, Y/n. Tell me what you want.”

Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure he could hear it. She swallowed hard, her walls crumbling under the weight of his gaze. “I… I want you,” she whispered, her voice shaking but clear. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Lando. I just… I didn’t think—”

He cut her off with a kiss, soft at first, testing, as if to make sure she meant every word she’d said. But the moment their lips met, something ignited—years of tension, longing, and unspoken feelings exploding in an instant. His other hand found the back of her neck, pulling her closer as his lips moved against hers with a hunger that left her dizzy.

She gasped into his mouth, her hands instinctively gripping his shoulders for balance. He deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against hers in a way that made her entire body tremble. It was raw, passionate, and utterly consuming. Every thought in her head evaporated, replaced only by the feeling of him—his taste, his warmth, his strength.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless. Lando rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, his breathing ragged. “God, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Me too,” she admitted softly, her cheeks flushed. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, reveling in the roughness of his stubble. “But Lando… we can’t… not now. You have to get to the track again.”

He groaned, dropping his head onto her shoulder. “You’re killing me,” he muttered, his breath warm against her skin. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s going to be to focus tonight knowing you’re here waiting for me?”

The low rumble of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. She bit her lip, trying to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Well, maybe you should’ve thought about that before you kissed me like that.”

Lando lifted his head, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “Oh, trust me, darling, that was just the beginning.” He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Tonight, I’m going to make sure you forget your own name.”

Her breath hitched, and she felt a rush of heat pooling low in her stomach. She opened her mouth to respond, but he pulled away before she could, stepping back with a look of mock regret.

“Unfortunately,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I really do need to go. But don’t think for a second I’m letting you off the hook.” He winked, backing toward the door. “Be ready for me tonight, Y/n. I expect you to make good on all those fantasies you’ve been having about me.”

Before she could protest or even process what he’d just said, he was gone, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing in the room. She stared after him, her mind reeling. Did he just…? Yes, he did. A blush crept up her neck as she realized exactly what he’d overheard.

Groaning, she flopped back onto the bed, covering her face with her hands. This is going to be a long night, she thought, her heart still racing from the intensity of his kiss.

---

As the hours dragged on, Y/n found herself restless. She tried to distract herself—took a shower, changed into something comfortable, even attempted to read a book—but nothing could quiet the storm of emotions swirling inside her. Lando’s words echoed in her mind, taunting her, teasing her. Tonight, I’m going to make sure you forget your own name.

Her stomach flipped at the memory, and she found herself wondering just how far he planned to take this. Would he keep teasing her like he always did, or would he finally give in to the undeniable chemistry between them?

By the time the sun began to set, she was a bundle of nerves, pacing the living room of the suite. Every creak of the floorboards made her jump, her anticipation growing with each passing minute. Finally, she heard the sound of a key card being inserted into the lock, and her heart leapt into her throat.

The door swung open, and there he was, looking as unfairly handsome as ever. His hair was slightly disheveled, and his shirt clung to his frame in a way that made her mouth go dry. He smirked when he saw her standing there, frozen in place.

“Waiting for me?” he asked, his voice dripping with amusement as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

She crossed her arms, trying to appear nonchalant despite the way her heart was pounding. “I wasn’t sure if you’d actually show up,” she replied, though the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.

Lando chuckled, setting his bag down by the door before walking toward her. “You really think I’d miss this?” he asked, stopping just inches away from her. His gaze dropped to her lips, and she could feel the heat radiating off his body.

“What?” she challenged, tilting her chin up defiantly. “Got something to prove, Norris?”

His laugh was low and throaty, sending shivers down her spine. “Oh, darling,” he murmured, leaning in so close she could feel his breath on her skin. “I’m going to prove so much more than that.”

Lando stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers as he began to unbutton his shirt. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “You’re welcome to join me.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed, but she shook her head quickly, trying to hide the way her body reacted to his words. “No, thanks,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest in what she hoped was a defiant gesture.

He smirked, clearly not buying her act, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he tossed his shirt onto the chair beside him and turned toward the bathroom, giving her one last lingering look before closing the door behind him.

The sound of the shower starting filled the suite, and Y/n let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her heart was still racing, and her skin felt hot everywhere Lando’s gaze had touched her. She glanced toward the closed bathroom door, then at the bed in his room, an idea forming in her mind.

What if I…?

Without giving herself time to second-guess, she slipped into his bedroom, closing the door softly behind her. She stood there for a moment, listening to the faint sound of water running from the shower, then slowly began to undress. Her clothes fell to the floor in a pile, and she stepped out of them, feeling exposed yet exhilarated. She climbed into his bed, pulling the covers up to her chin as she waited.

The minutes dragged on, each one stretching longer than the last. Her nerves were on edge, every sound making her jump slightly. Finally, the shower turned off, and she heard the bathroom door open. She held her breath, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it.

Lando stepped into the room, towel slung low around his hips, his hair still damp and tousled. He froze when he saw her in his bed, his eyes widening slightly before a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. “Well, well,” he drawled, leaning against the doorframe. “Look who decided to make herself comfortable.”

Y/n bit her lip, trying to appear confident despite the way her pulse was racing. She shrugged, the motion causing the sheet to slip slightly, revealing the curve of her shoulder. “Your bed looked more inviting,” she said, her voice soft but steady.

“Is that so?” he asked, pushing off the doorframe and walking toward the bed. His movements were deliberate, each step bringing him closer until he was standing at the foot of the bed, looking down at her with a heated gaze. “And here I thought you weren’t interested in joining me earlier.”

She shifted under the covers, the sheet sliding down further to reveal the swell of her breasts. “Maybe I changed my mind,” she murmured, her eyes locked on his.

Lando chuckled, a deep, rich sound that sent a shiver down her spine. He reached for the towel around his waist, his fingers brushing against the fabric as he teased her with his next move. Slowly, almost torturously, he tugged the towel loose, letting it fall to the floor.

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of him. His cock was already hard, thick and throbbing, and she couldn’t help but lick her lips as her gaze traveled over him. God, he’s gorgeous, she thought, her mouth suddenly dry.

“Like what you see?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement as he watched her reaction.

She nodded, unable to tear her eyes away. “Very much,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Lando’s grin widened, and he climbed onto the bed, kneeling at the end as he leaned over her. “Then why don’t you show me just how much?” he suggested, his tone teasing but unmistakably serious.

Y/n hesitated for only a moment before sitting up, letting the covers fall away completely as she moved toward him. She crawled across the bed, her eyes never leaving his as she positioned herself between his legs. Her hands rested on his thighs, warm and firm beneath her touch, and she leaned forward, her breath ghosting over his cock before she finally took him into her mouth.

“Fuck,” Lando groaned, his head tilting back as her lips wrapped around him. His hands tangled in her hair, guiding her but not forcing her, letting her set the pace.

She took her time, exploring him with her tongue, savoring the way he throbbed in her mouth. She kissed him, licked him, played

She pulled back slightly, her lips still brushing against the tip of his cock as she spoke, her voice low and teasing. “You have a very nice cock, Lando.” Her tongue flicked out to taste him again, and he groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he breathed, his hands tightening in her hair. “You’re going to kill me.”

She smiled, her eyes locking with his as she took him deeper into her mouth, savoring the way he filled her. She could feel him throbbing against her tongue, taste the saltiness of his skin, and it only made her want more. Her hand moved down to cup his balls, gently rolling them between her fingers as she sucked him, her lips moving up and down his length with practiced ease.

“I love your cock,” she murmured, pulling back just enough to speak before taking him in again. “I could suck it every day.”

Lando let out a choked laugh, his breath hitching as she worked him over. “You’re fucking insatiable,” he muttered, but there was no heat in his words, only awe and desire.

As she continued to pleasure him, she could feel herself growing wetter, her own need building with every moan that escaped his lips. She was dripping onto the bed beneath her, her arousal impossible to ignore. When Lando noticed, his eyes darkened, and a sly grin spread across his face.

“Look at you,” he teased, his voice thick with lust. “So fucking wet for me, aren’t you? My little slut.”

She blushed at his words, but they only fueled her desire, making her even more desperate for him. She moaned around his cock, her eyes fluttering closed as she lost herself in the sensation of him filling her mouth.

But Lando had other plans. With a growl, he pulled her off him, ignoring her whimper of protest. He flipped her onto her back, his eyes raking over her naked body like a predator sizing up its prey. His gaze lingered on the glistening wetness between her thighs, and he licked his lips hungrily.

“I need to taste you,” he declared, his voice rough with need. “Now.”

Before she could respond, he was on her, his mouth descending on her core with a hunger that left her gasping. His tongue delved into her, exploring her folds with an intensity that made her arch off the bed. She cried out, her hands tangling in his hair as he devoured her, his tongue lapping at her wetness like a man dying of thirst.

“Lando!” she screamed, her hips bucking against his face as he drove her closer and closer to the edge. Every lick, every suck, every thrust of his tongue sent waves of pleasure crashing through her, leaving her trembling and incoherent.

He paused for a moment, looking up at her with a wicked grin. “God, you taste so good,” he murmured, his breath hot against her sensitive flesh. “I could eat you out all day and never get enough.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she whimpered, her nails digging into his scalp as she begged him not to stop. He didn’t need to be told twice. His mouth returned to her, his tongue working her clit with a precision that had her seeing stars. He slipped two fingers inside her, curling them just right, and she came undone, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave.

“Fuck, Lando!” she cried, her body convulsing with pleasure as he continued to lick and suck at her, drawing out her release until she was left boneless and panting.

When he finally pulled away, his lips were glistening with her wetness, and his eyes were filled with desire. He crawled up her body, his cock pressing against her thigh as he kissed her deeply, letting her taste herself on his tongue.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against her lips, his voice fierce and possessive. “All mine.”

She nodded, her heart swelling with emotion as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer. “Yours,” she agreed, her voice trembling with the weight of her feelings.

There was no turning back now. The tension that had been simmering between them for months had finally boiled over, and neither of them could—or would—put out the fire. They were consumed by each other, lost in a whirlwind of passion and desire that showed no signs of slowing down.

Lando positioned himself between her legs, his cock pressing against her entrance as he looked down at her, his eyes searching hers for any hesitation. There was none. Only want, need, and something deeper that neither of them was ready to put into words yet.

“I’m going to make you feel so good,” he promised, his voice husky with desire.

And then he was inside her, filling her completely as she gasped, her nails digging into his back. He started slow, allowing her time to adjust to him, but it wasn’t long before the pace quickened, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

“You feel incredible,” he groaned, his forehead pressed against hers as he thrust into her, each movement driving her higher and higher.

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, could only feel. The way he filled her, the way he touched her, the way he looked at her—it was overwhelming in the best possible way. She clung to him, her cries of pleasure mingling with his groans as they moved together, chasing the ecstasy that only the other could provide.

And when it finally came, it hit them both like a freight train, their bodies shuddering as they reached the peak together. Lando’s name spilled from her lips like a prayer, and hers from his like a promise, as they tumbled over the edge into blissful oblivion.

For a moment, they simply lay there, tangled together and breathing heavily, the world outside forgotten. But as reality began to creep back in, Lando rolled onto his side, pulling her with him so that she was nestled against his chest.

“Tell me this is real,” he murmured, his voice soft but urgent as he brushed a strand of hair from her face.

She looked up at him, her heart aching with the depth of her emotions. “It’s real,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “It’s always been real.”

He kissed her then, softly, tenderly, as if sealing the truth of her words. And as they lay there, wrapped up in each other, the lines between fantasy and reality blurred, leaving only the undeniable truth: they were meant for each other.

[littlelamy]

hiii I was wondering if you could maybe write something like Older!Rafe seeing reader being good with babies (u can decide if there’s smut

author's note: hi bby, let me know if you want headcanons because i am obsessed with older!rafe! credits to @mochilly for the the divider <3

the baby in your arms cooed happily, tiny fingers curling around your thumb as you adjusted the strap of your sundress with your free hand. rafe leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. the way the sunlight spilled through the windows behind you gave you this sort of halo effect. it wasn’t fair, really—how effortlessly perfect you looked, cradling someone else’s kid like you were born to do it.

“you’re getting a little too comfortable there, don’t you think?” his voice carried that teasing edge, but there was something deeper underneath, something softer.

you glanced up, shooting him a grin. “why, are you jealous of a baby, cameron?”

he straightened up, pretending to think it over, one hand brushing through his sun-bleached hair. “depends. are they stealing all your attention from me?”

you rolled your eyes, but he caught the faint blush dusting your cheeks. he always noticed that kind of thing.

“you could come hold him, you know,” you said, tilting your head toward him. “he’s not that scary.”

rafe scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “yeah, sure. just let me swoop in and ruin whatever magic you’ve got going on there.”

“it’s not magic. you just have to be gentle,” you said, as if the word gentle and rafe belonged in the same sentence.

his smirk faltered for a second, something vulnerable flickering across his face. you’d seen it before���the way he tried to play off his insecurities, especially when it came to things he wasn’t used to.

“gentle, huh?” he murmured, stepping closer. his voice dropped slightly, taking on that low, gravelly tone he knew drove you crazy. “think you could teach me how to do that?”

you gave him a look, but your smile betrayed you. “don’t tell me you’re scared of a little baby, rafe.”

“not scared,” he shot back, crouching beside you now, so close you could smell the faint hint of cologne mixed with sunscreen. “just don’t want to screw it up.”

“you won’t.” your voice was softer now, and it made something tighten in his chest. you always had this way of looking at him, like you saw the parts he tried to hide from everyone else.

“here,” you said, shifting slightly so he could take the baby. “just support his head, and you’ll be fine.”

rafe hesitated, his hands hovering awkwardly, but when the baby settled against his chest with a soft gurgle, something shifted in him.

“see? not so bad,” you said, resting your chin in your hand as you watched him.

he looked down at the baby, then back at you, his blue eyes glinting with something mischievous. “you know, you’re really fuckin’ good at this.”

“at what?”

“making me want things I didn’t think I wanted.”

it was cheesy, sure, but the way he said it, low and serious, made your heart stutter.

“maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” you whispered, leaning in just enough for your knee to brush against his.

rafe glanced down at the baby again, then back at you, his lips twitching into a smirk. “guess we’ll just have to see about that.”

later, after the baby had been handed off to its mom and the yard cleared of most of the guests, you caught rafe lounging on the patio, a beer dangling from his fingertips.

you stepped out, the screen door creaking behind you as you crossed the space to him. “what are you doing out here all thoughtful?”

he looked up, his smirk lazy but sharp. “just thinking about how damn good you looked with that kid earlier.”

you paused mid-step, your brows raising. “oh, really?”

“yeah,” he said, leaning back and tilting his head as if sizing you up. “made me wonder how you’d look holding my kid.”

“jesus, rafe.” you tried to keep the heat off your face, but the way he said it, so low and gravelly, had your stomach doing flips.

“what?” he asked innocently, though the way his lips curved betrayed him. “just being honest.”

you shook your head, walking closer until you were standing over him. “you’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“maybe,” he admitted, setting the beer down and grabbing your wrist to tug you into his lap. “but you like me anyway.”

you let him pull you down, the weight of his arms wrapping around you making your breath hitch. “who said anything about liking you?”

he grinned, leaning closer until his lips just barely brushed your ear. “you didn’t have to. i can tell.”

and maybe you didn’t say anything back, but when your fingers curled into his shirt, holding him just a little tighter, rafe knew he wasn’t wrong.

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog

[voidingintotheshout]

I mean, I would say it’s bandwagoning. Like yeah stuff that people on BookTok would like is a valid genre, but that doesn’t need to be the only stuff coming out by new writers (read: non-established writers being heavily promoted by major publishers). It just seems like it’s been this trend in America this mainstreamification of culture that everything popular needs to be part of the mainstream. It’s just really frustrating since the death of the hippie movement somewhere in the 1970s or early 80s that everything needs to be mass-market. Everything needs to be a chain. A successful restaurant needs to increase its branding and become a chain. Every new writer needs to be a social media star first and a writer second. If they have to choose, then they should maintain their social media accounts and just hire a ghost writer or half-ass the writing, even though that strategy very much didn’t work out in the long term for Truman Capote or Ernest Hemingway. It’s frustrating because a lot of the people on booktok consider themselves progressive and rail against the boomers from time to time yet they are so cringingly establishment and traditional and often times very uncomfortable with experimental avant-garde literature. For them, it’s sometimes seems like there’s “good weird”, which is often just virtue signaling in a hat and there’s “bad weird”, which is stuff that’s confusing and you don’t really know whether the book is good or bad. I mean the Sean Penn book Bob Honey was bad experimental fiction, but it was considered good at the time because people who didn’t know anything about experimental fiction assumed that was good because they didn’t have a lot of other experimental writing to compare it to. 

AND THEY’RE FUCKING CORRECT

[zorosangell]

hiii! hope you’re doing good and I’d like to give in a suggestion, could you make a fic about gnreader being choppers mother figure and both zoro and reader are fighting for the parental role 😭😭

(they later on share it lol)

⛥ﾟ・。 endgame

synopsis: prequel to inn -- when chopper asks about your past, zoro reminisces on your history together... and is reminded of exactly what you are to him.

cw: THIS IS A PREQUEL TO INN, fluffly fluff, comfort, takes place pre-timeskip during alabasta, young reader is so cute, protective zoro, ZORO IS WHIPPED, i really loved writing this.

a/n: i really, really loved writing this

"Hey, Zoro!" Luffy called, eagerly. "Look over here! Look at what we're doing!"

"We're training!" Usopp added, clapping his hands together.

Begrudgingly, Zoro looked up from Chopper's fur, glancing toward the boys, who were standing under a huge stream of water like it was a ninja's waterfall.

"Real funny," he nodded, sarcastically, before returning to what he was doing.

After saving the kingdom of Alabasta, the king invited the crew to the royal bath, hoping to clean up after dinner.

The young doctor had asked for help washing his back, and the swordsman played it off as having nothing better to do.

But, in actuality... he enjoyed helping boy, feeling a sort of fatherly obligation toward him.

"Zoro?" Chopper piped up, quietly, eyes trained forward as the man went back to carefully scrubbing his fur.

"Yeah?" Zoro hummed. "What is it?"

"Do you know why (y/n) acts the way she does?"

Confused, Zoro raised a brow, unsure of what he was talking about.

"What do you mean?"

"Well... you know," the boy slightly stammered. "She's so nice... and kind... she cares for me so well even though I just joined the crew."

He looked down at himself, making sure to choose his words carefully.

"Even Doctorine didn't warm up to me this quick... but she treats me like she's known me all her life. And I figured since you two grew up together, you could tell me why."

'So, that's it...'

Zoro nodded, finally getting the picture.

"I see what you mean," he confirmed, moving on to the boy's shoulder. "(y/n)'s always been like that... even when we were kids. There's no rhyme or reason to it."

He glanced up, the memories rolling back like calm waves after a storm.

"She just... is."

"I thought I told you to stop following me! Cut it out!" a ten year-old Zoro exclaimed, glaring at you sharply.

"But... you're bleeding..." a nine year-old you reminded, worried, as you tightly clutched the handle of your first aid kit. "Kuina beat you up really bad this time."

"Shut up!" he barked. "I don't need your help! Or anyone else's! I'm gonna get stronger all on my own!"

You flinched at his tone, but held strong, despite the tears welling in your eyes.

"Well, you can't be the strongest if you can barely lift your arms!"

Zoro's eyes widened, surprised.

In your months of chasing him, attempting to patch him up, you had never raised your voice.

Not even once.

"I believe in you! And I wanna help you! So let's make a deal!"

Brows furrowed with determination, you pointed at him, firm in your disposition.

"Every night, I'll patch you up, and help you out with normal stuff, like food and clothes! And in return, you work your hardest to become the strong enough to beat Kuina! Sound fair?"

"No!" he scoffed, incredulously, and incredibly confused. "Why are you doing this?! You don't even know me! What do you get out of that?!"

"I get to watch you!" you grinned, jumping at the chance to gush. "You're so cool! And tough! I'm no good at sword-fighting, but you're amazing at it! I can tell you're gonna be a really great swordsman someday!"

Happily, you looked up at him, your starry eyes bringing a faint tinge of pink to the boy's cheeks.

"And I wanna be there to watch the whole thing!"

For a moment, Zoro paused to think, weighing his options before caving with a sigh, unable to say no to your hopeful smile.

"...Fine."

"YAY!"

Without hesitation, you pulled him into an embrace, overwhelmed with joy.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! No hugging!"

Zoro chuckled, moving the scrub brush to the young doctor's head.

You were the strangest, most persistent girl he had ever met... but the only one that believed in him from the very beginning.

Even if it was at your expense.

"What were you thinking?!" a twelve year-old Zoro scolded, haphazardly applying band-aids to all your cuts and bruises. "You know Haru and Kenzo are stronger than you. Why'd you try to fight them?"

An eleven year-old you sniffled, using the back of your hand to wipe away the stray tears rolling down your cheeks.

"They were making fun of you," you mumbled, looking down at your lap. "They said three-sword style was stupid, so I tried to punch them... but I missed and they ganged up on me."

"Did they, now?" Zoro glared, turning to the two boys next to him.

Quickly, he struck them both in the back of the head, giving them two giant welts and adding to their multitude of injuries.

"What do you two say to her?!"

"We'wre sowwy..."

Chopper lit up, relieved to her you had no ulterior motive in your kindness.

"(y/n)'s been this nice all her life? Wow! I wish I met her sooner! She sounds like a really great friend!"

Zoro nodded, fighting off the small smile threatening to rise to his lips.

"I was lucky to meet her when I did... her enthusiasm always gave me something to look forward to."

He sighed, dreamily reminiscing on the thought.

"Even when the future was unclear..."

"I can't believe it! We're actually leaving!" an eighteen year-old you squealed, watching the island of Shimotsuki get smaller and smaller as you clung to the mast of your small fishing boat. "This is so exciting!"

"I know," a nineteen year-old Zoro agreed, watching with an air of pride. "Feels like a new chapter. One step closer to becoming the strongest."

You nodded along, until you were suddenly hit with a thought, which forced you to sit down.

"But... I can't help but wonder," you started, glancing up at him. "Why'd you bring me along?"

He raised a brow, confused, and silently asking you to elaborate.

"You know I'm not very strong. Hell, I can barely throw a punch," you reminded. "I won't be much of a help..."

"All those years ago... didn't you say you wanted to watch me become the Greatest Swordsman in the world?" Zoro asked, rhetorically. "You can't do that cooped up in a dojo."

Your eyes widened slightly, not expecting such a straight-forward answer.

"I promised you I'd work hard to become the strongest. So you better believe you're getting a front row seat," he smirked, plopping himself down next to you, slightly rocking the boat. "You're stuck with me, (y/n). There's no backin' out now."

You replied with a chuckle, carefully resting your head on his shoulder, blissfully unaware of the flush on his cheeks.

"Thanks, Zo'."

He nodded, slowly and warily looping an arm around your shoulder, letting out a sigh of relief when you didn't move away.

"Don't mention it."

"Wow! I'm so happy!" Chopper cheered, jumping up from his seat. "I'm gonna go dry off and give her a big hug to say thank you for all the stuff she's done!"

Quickly, he turned to Zoro, his blinding smile warming the swordsman's heart—though he'd never admit it.

"Thanks for telling me Zoro!"

Without a word, Zoro nodded, and Chopper zoomed off back to the rooms, leaving the man alone with his thoughts.

Glancing at the divider separating the men and women's bath, Zoro listened closely, tuning out Luffy and Usopp's roughhousing to see if he could hear you.

And he did.

From beyond the great wall flowed in your silvery laugh, the delightful sound hitting his ears like the world's greatest song.

Closing his eyes, the swordsman rested his arm on his knee, and his cheek in his palm, allowing himself to fully experience its beauty.

God, he was so in love with you...

Words couldn't even begin to express.

You were the most consistent thing in his life.

His personal nurse.

His number one supporter.

His best friend.

His childhood crush.

If he was being honest, he didn't know where would've ended up if it weren't for you, or the person he would've turned out to be.

You taught him the value of kindness and compassion at such a young age, and were never afraid to wear your heart on your cheek if it meant pushing him closer to his dream.

And you knew him so well.

He couldn't have found a better partner in crime if he'd searched for a thousand years.

Muscles relaxing, a small smile rose to his lips as your laugh floated into the air once again, accentuated by the occasional, adorable snort.

There was no one else in this world for him.

There would be no one else in this world for him.

You were absolutely, positively, without a doubt... his endgame.

[izvmimi]

cw: comfort, minimal hurt. implied break/break-up with retained feelings on both sides.

Midoriya is nothing if not persistent, and you have to hand it to him, he knows exactly how to pinpoint the soft center of your very heart. 

(Alternatively, perhaps all of it is soft for him, much to your chagrin, but that’s an issue to settle in due time.)

You can see from the inside of your apartment that he is standing at the front door, an overly ornate boxed and ribboned cake in his hands, and notably still clad in his hero suit, rocking back and forth slowly on his heels as he waits for you to open the door. He must have just gotten off patrol, you figure, as it is close to ten p.m. but in just a little over 2 hours, it will be Christmas and he should be at home with family, or perhaps someone that he loves, not here at your doorstep making another desperate bid for attention. 

You didn’t expect to see anyone tonight.

Exhausted from your own late shift, you’d immediately changed into pajamas, deciding that tomorrow’s hotpot dinner with Class 1A and a call to your family overseas would be as much Christmas as you would allow yourself to have. Your home is barely decorated, a simple wreath on the outside of your door being the limit of your effort for cheer (although the few scattered gifts in the corner of your living room from friends may add an extra element of festivity despite your best efforts, or lack thereof). By no means are you a Grinch, but Izuku must have the wrong door and wrong set of expectations.

He knocks again and you watch, deciding how believable it would be for you to pretend to go to bed. As you contemplate, you can see him pull out his phone and text, and you aren’t exactly surprised when your phone vibrates a few moments later, but you are surprised by the message.

Merry Christmas! If you don’t open the door, I’ll just leave the cake out for you, but I think it would taste even better if we shared it.

He knows you’re wide awake. You open the door quickly, your cheeks hot with embarrassment, but he’s unsurprised, smiling widely at you.

“Hey.”

His generous smile makes your stomach turn. 

“Why are you here, Midoriya?”

His smile doesn’t flicker in the least; rather, it widens.

“I wanted to see you. Can I come in?”

You’ve already let him in naturally, so it’s almost patronizing that he asks. You follow him inside, watching him take his shoes off at the genkan before asking any more questions, and he quickly deposits the cake at the kitchen table, before looking back at you. 

Your arms are crossed over your oversized T-shirt, just as wrinkled as the cotton shorts that peek underneath. Izuku considers for a moment that perhaps he is overstepping and frowns.

“Were you going to bed?”

You shake your head no. “You look like you’re coming right off the street, is everything okay?”

Izuku nods. “Perfect. I thought if I got home and changed first I’d be here too late, and I’ve been holding onto this bad boy since the bakery closed at 6pm so I thought my luck was about to run out.”

You glance at the strawberry sponge cake that looks somehow still pristine through the clear packaging and wonder if he just had a really uneventful night or he just took a special amount of attention to making sure nothing came to harm it. 

The idea of him holding it close to his chest makes you scrunch your face.

“Christmas Eve is for dates.”

Izuku’s emerald-like eyes are bright and hopeful as he agrees, as if you’re stating the obvious.

“Yeah. I’m thinking I came to the right place.”

Despite yourself, you bite your lower lip, the warmth in your cheeks now spreading to your ears. Unable to look at him any longer, you go to your cupboard and search for forks and plates. He makes his way to the kitchen sink as you fumble around to wash his hands, grabbing a few napkins on his way back to the table.

Izuku thanks you as you slice equal pieces for the two of you then waits, expectantly, until you bring the first bite to your lips before he does so himself. There’s something about the way that he watches your lips move that has you feeling a little too seen, but some of that has always been his natural superpower, quirkless or not. 

Observation. Knowing you as if he could sense your soul, and responding accordingly.

“Is it good?” he asks, as you take another eager bite, and you nod.

“Amazing,” you admit, and he beams, smiling from ear to ear. You expect him to give you details of where he got it or how but he chooses to say nothing instead, allowing you space to speak first.

You keep quiet as you eat at first, but find yourself looking at him a little too long, fixating on the way his suit spandex fits a little too snugly at the shoulders these days, and how thick his bicep is for the simple act of lifting a fork to his mouth. You consider for a moment that perhaps you should simply do it for him, but dispel that thought with a bit of shame.

You’re supposed to be playing hard to get, even if the fact of the matter is that you’ve been gotten, long ago perhaps even. 

How long will you continue to do this? He’s already told you he’ll do anything he can to win your heart back, even if it’s barely his fault he lost it in the first place.

You cut yourself another slice.

“Izuku, I still need more time,” you finally admit in a small voice. Izuku doesn’t look up from his cake slice, and you can tell this time it’s because he is still somewhat upset by your words, but he hums in assent.

“I understand.”

There’s the smallest waver in his voice that makes your heart wrench, even if it’s just for a moment.

The strawberry slices in every bite sweeten the bitter taste in your mouth regardless, and perhaps the truth is you’ll never truly know how to conceive of his name in your mouth as anything other than the finest sugar.

“Izuku…” you whisper again.

He looks at you directly in the eyes this time, warm and attentive. You’re reminded of the first time he told you he loved you, then the second, then the third, then more.

You set your plate down and come around the table, and as if he knows - he always knows - he pulls back his chair, and you find yourself settling into his lap, your arms around his neck.

Perhaps by time, you meant a matter of seconds.

Your head tilts upwards and your lips meet, and he tastes like Christmas cake and love.

“I need more time,” you repeat again, between kisses. His arms hold you tightly around your waist, and he nods, lids heavy with desire as he waits for you to continue.

“... so can you please stay the night?”

[chlix]

baby, it's cold outside (no seriously it's crazy out there)

bf! chan x gn! reader: your car breaks down in a snowstorm and you have to walk home. chan is there to comfort you and warm you back up

pairing: chan x reader

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

word count: 4.1k

warnings/tags: snowstorms, car trouble, sickness, a long series of unfortunate events that leave the reader miserable for most of the fic

a/n: this is a request from @caticorn61 who wanted chan being apologetic for not answering his phone after reader's car broke down. this is perhaps more than what u asked for 😅 but i hope you enjoy it anyway!

You are on a historic run of bad days.

You've never considered yourself to be particularly unlucky, but this past week has had you rethinking that orientation. Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. On Monday your alarm didn't go off, making you late for work. Even worse, there was a meeting you'd forgotten about, so you had to slide awkwardly into the back of the room and pretend you didn't feel everyone's annoyed gazes. Tuesday was grocery shopping day, but you found out they discontinued your favorite brand of chips, and raised the price of an alternative, so you were forced to go home chip-less. Then, when you tried to take the groceries out of the car, one of the bags split open and sent your eggs, cheese, and blueberries crashing to the ground, buried in slush and snow. A total waste. Wednesday you woke up to find your heating had shut off in the night, and you were now shaking fit to break apart. Although maintenance promptly fixed your radiator, you developed an itch in your throat that only grew throughout the day and had developed into a full-blown cough by the next morning.

Which is where you are now on a subzero Thursday morning, ill and irritated and crawling your way towards the end of the week.

Your boyfriend, Chan, talks to you on the phone in soothing tones.

"I'm sorry your week has been so rough, baby," he says, and you can hear the dripping sympathy through the phone. "I know how it feels when little things pile up like that."

"I just don't know if I can take it anymore," you tell him. "It's like I've been cursed. I'm afraid if I walk outside a piano will fall on me and crush me."

You're half-joking when you say that, but Chan can hear that the other half is vaguely on hysterical.

"I don't think anyone is moving pianos in this weather," he says very reasonably. "Just stay away from luxury apartments if you're worried."

You set your bag down and put your face in your hands, taking slow, deep breaths. Your phone is on speaker, and you can hear Chan hum, trying to comfort you even though he's in his own dorm across the city.

"It'll all be okay, Y/n. And I'll see you this weekend, yeah? I'll come over Friday night and you'll have me all to yourself. Just stay strong."

You exhale, long and loud. "You promise?"

"I promise. Be strong for me, babygirl."

You blink the dampness out of your eyes and straighten up. "Okay. I can do that."

"And drink some tea. Your voice sounds kind of rough."

"Don't get me started again, please."

By the time you hang up, you don't feel understood, but you do feel seen. You fill up a thermos with tea, put on your coat, and mentally prepare yourself to leave the apartment.

It's only two more days, you remind yourself. The weekend will fix me. It'll break this curse that's been placed upon me. You force yourself to have a positive outlook. You will not have another bad day. You will be strong.

All day, you force yourself to react to every potentially meltdown-inducing incident with grace and poise. You realize you forgot your lunch and have to eat cheap candy from the vending machine for lunch? That's totally fine. Your boss adds another item to your to list, forcing you to stay later to finish everything and close up? You really don't mind. Your best friend texts you that she's been stalking her ex on Instagram again and you won't believe it but he already has a new girlfriend, y/n, can you fucking believe it, we've only been broken up for like two weeks and he's buying her fucking jewelry, and you respond what an asshole. he has a new gf and he didn't block his ex? while your eye twitches.

By the time you finish all your tasks and close up, your face hurts from holding a smile you don't feel. You're the last one out, so you make sure the building is locked and make your way across the empty parking lot to your car. The forecast predicted snow tonight, and already the ground is littered with white. The flakes are fat and sticky- they're already building up on the undisturbed portions of pavement. You have to quickly brush off your windows and mirrors before you can get into your car, slamming the door behind you.

You made it. You survived. It was a godawful Thursday but you conquered it.

"One more day," you whisper to yourself. "Just one more day."

You lock the door and put the key in the ignition. The dashboard lights up and the engine turns.....and turns....and turns.....

A rock forms in your stomach.

"No," you say. "No no no no no." You twist the key again, but the engine whirs and whirs and whirs...and does not turn over. Your car does not start.

It's not news to you that your car is a piece of shit. You and Chan discuss this almost every night- what to do about this fuckass car. You've been resistant to letting him help you pay for a new one, partially because that's a lot of money and partly because you're sentimentally attached to the old rustbucket. You inherited it from a family member as a birthday gift, and so despite it being less than reliable you're hesitant to seek solutions. It's your first car, after all. It's a part of you now.

In this moment, however, you want to throw all that sentimentally down the drain along with the keys to this absolutely useless fucking rustbucket of a vehicle.

Not to worry, you tell yourself. I'll just call Chan to come get me. We can deal with my car in the morning.

You take out your phone and call him. The call rings out.

You stare at your phone, confused. It's not like him to ignore your calls, especially not at this hour. It's pitch black with winter but it's still arguably early in the night. Chan is likely to still be awake, but it's unlikely he's doing any kind of official task. And it's so late that he would know to answer; you would never call him for something frivolous at this time of night. You call again.

No answer.

Your patience is running thin now. You consider calling your best friend, but she's out of town visiting family. Your other friend, Seohyeon, doesn't have a car, and her boyfriend's car is currently being repaired. The bus you sometimes take is about a fifteen minute walk down the street, but it'll have stopped running this far out by now, so you'd have to walk to a further bus stop and then go to the transportation terminal and connect, which would take over an hour. You could walk to the subway, you think, but you lost your subway card weeks ago and never got around to replacing it, and honestly it just seems like a whole ordeal you can't bring yourself to stomach right now. Chills go down your spine, and you can't tell if it's from the cold or from the increasing precarity of your situation.

You try the engine again. No dice.

You call Chan again. Voicemail again.

You lean your head on the steering wheel and take long, deep breaths. Outside your window, the wind is picking up, making the snow fall at a diagonal instead of straight down. It would be terrible to walk in, especially because the direction you need to go to get home would cause the snow to blow right in your face. Your throat is killing you, but your thermos of tea is long since empty. Maybe you should just go back into the work building and hunker down for the night. Maybe you should sit in the car and turn into an icicle. Your head is a foggy mess, thoughts twisting all around. You're getting hysterical again. You can feel yourself cracking to pieces.

Think, y/n. Who else can you call?

You're all out of people you know personally, but you could call an Uber. It's pricey and arguably unsafe, and you normally wouldn't, but these are extenuating circumstances. It solves the problem of being stranded, and again, you can deal with your car at a later point. And at least when Chan finally calls you back, you'll be safe at home, so he won't have to feel guilty about missing your calls three times.

You lean back in your seat and open the Uber app. Thankfully you still have it installed, and it still has all your info in it from the last time you called someone to take you home. Just as you're about to finish the transaction, your phone freezes. The screen flashes, then goes dark. You press the power button once, then again, frantically.

Your phone is dead.

Immediately, you scramble for your console, searching for a power cable to connect the phone to the car battery. Your cable is gone. You remember, horrified, that you took the cable out of your car because the one in your living room at home had started fraying. You meant to replace it but you never did. You're normally pretty good at leaving the house in the morning with it mostly charged.

But it's nighttime now, and your battery is dead. You have no charging cables, which means you can't call an Uber. You can't call anybody. And you can't even go to the subway now because your debit card is on your phone, so you can't refill your subway card.

A terrible despair fills you.

You have to walk home in a snowstorm.

As soon as the thought materializes, tears start to well in your eyes. This is too much for you to take, would be too much for you even if you'd had a perfectly good day today. This isn't fait. How can this be happening to you? Why is the universe punishing you like this? And when is it going to stop? Again you wish you could just sit in your car and turn into an icicle, let someone else defrost you in the morning. You think having a piano fall on your head would be better than this.

Eventually you manage to get yourself to calm down. Sitting in this car freezing isn't gonna do you any good. It'll only get colder by the hour. You need to walk to the far bus stop and catch another bus before they actually stop running, and you really are stranded instead of just doomed to walk forty minutes in a blizzard.

As if there's a difference, you think bitterly as you put your useless phone into your bag and bundle everything up. You put your gloves back on, and your hat. You step out of your car, slamming the door behind you, and zip up your jacket. Of course, you hadn't thought to wear a scarf today, so your face will just have to freeze. After only 30 seconds you feel your lips cracking.

"Okay," you whisper. "Okay okay okay okay."

You set off in the direction of the bus.

-/-

The journey is long and cold. It's not so much the temperature as the fact that you never have the chance to get used to it because it just keeps getting holder as the night wears on. It takes a ridiculously long time to walk to the bus stop, because you're fighting headwind every step of the way. You want to close your eyes against the snow, but if you do that you'll veer off course or fall into the road or trip on an ice slick and die, so you brave the stinging and push forward. Then you wait at the bus stop so long that your already sore feet start to scream with pain. Your phone is dead, so there's no way for you to track the bus, but you conclude you must have just missed the previous one as it takes a full thirty minutes for it to come again. By the time the bus pulls up in front of you, your feet are almost buried, and when you take your seat, every part of you squelches and slides as the snow melts, drenching your clothes.

The bus is at least warm, and so is the transport center, but the second bus drops you off another twenty-five minute walk from your apartment and you're forced to walk- you guessed it!- uphill. Your calves are screaming from the exertion, and from cold, and from keeping your balance as you trudge through the piling snow. You have a death grip on your keys- if they were to fall out somewhere between work and home you would simply lie down on the ground and let the snow bury you. It would be more than you could take. But your keys stay in your tightly clenched fists, and soon your apartment building becomes visible through the dark and haze. You want to cry tears of relief but your tear ducts are frozen shut.

By the time you traipse up the steps of your apartment, you feel more popsicle than person. You are so cold. Your hands shake so much it takes you a few tries to get the keys from your pocket and stick them in the lock. You step inside, sagging as the heat blasts you in the face. All you want to do is collapse into bed and curl under your blankets where the world can't see you, to get a little bit of sleep before your torture begins anew tomorrow. The thought of going to work on Friday strikes a physical pain in you. You've barely survived today, and yet tomorrow looms terrible just out of reach.

You go to turn on the lights only to realize that the lights are already on. Your heart skips a beat. Did someone break into your apartment? Should you turn around and flee? But you don't have a car, and you certainly aren't walking back to the bus stop. You have nowhere to go.

A figure turns the corner and you flinch back, hands half-raised in some pathetic attempt to defend yourself-

It's Chan. He turns the corner and it's your boyfriend, standing on your tile floor in sweats and a big sweater, eyes bright and twinkling with how excited he is to see you.

"Hey, sweetheart," Chan says. "You're finally back. I saw you called earlier and got worried something was wrong."

You burst into tears. You're crying before you even know it, violent sobs that shake you and make water droplets roll off your soaked hair. Salt burns your frozen tear ducts, and snow is slipping down your collar, but all these small discomforts are overshadowed by the pure and all-consuming relief that your boyfriend is here in the flesh, asking after you and taking care of you, and you can finally stop fighting to keep it together. You can rest.

Chan makes a sound of alarm and rushes forward to grab you as you start to list.

"Baby? Hey, hey, what's wrong? Christ, you look terrible. Are you sick?" He tries to put his hand against your forehead but pulls it away just as fast. "You're cold as ice, y/n."

"I w-walked home," you try to explain. Your tongue is thick in your mouth, and it's hard to get enough air to speak through your sobs. "Car broke down, phone died, b-bus was late."

"Fuck, sweetheart. I'm so fucking sorry. That sounds terrible."

His validation of your misery just makes you cry harder. Chan pulls you into a fierce hug and you bury your face in his shoulder and absolutely lose it. All the stress of the last week crashes down on you at once, your misery overwhelming you. You grab at his clothes with gloved hands, and there's about four layers of clothes between you, and it's not enough, you want to be closer. But at the same time you can't make yourself pull away from Chan's embrace. He whispers soothing words in your ear, rocks you back and forth, presses closed mouth kisses to any part of you he can reach. He doesn't shush you, or try to calm you down. He just lets you have the emotional release he knows you sorely need.

When your cries start to slow, he gives you one final squeeze to catch your attention, and whispers, "We need to get you out of these clothes, hmm? Does that sound okay?"

You swallow the last of your sobs and nod morosely.

"Okay then. Let's take your jacket off. It's soaking wet by now."

You step back from Chan, still holding on to his arm as you stumble and sway. You're so tired. Standing up for even a second longer is too big of an ask.

"Just lean on me. It's okay, I won't let you fall."

Together, you unfasten and take off your heavy winter coat, letting it fall to the floor with the slush you dragged in. Chan is the one who crouches down to untie your shoes, and you lean on him for support as you remove one foot, then the other.

"Good job," he praises, pressing a kiss to your snow-soaked hair. "Let's get you warmed up now."

He leads you to the bathroom and starts the water running in the tub. You listlessly undress, leaning on the counter for support when you need it. While the tub is filling, Chan tries to leave, but you catch him by the shoulder on his way past you, stopping him in his tracks.

"Stay?"

"Of course I'll stay," he says. "I just want to get you a change of clothes."

You hesitantly let go of him, and he flashes you a reassuring smile before he slips out. You sit down on the toilet and wait patiently for his return, watching the water fill the tub slowly and feeling your thoughts move sluggishly in your brain.

The sound of the water stopping jolts you back to the present. Chan is back, in a regular t-shirt this time, leaning over the bathtub to make sure the water is the right temperature. Deeming it good enough, he turns back to you and stretches out a hand to you.

As soon as you sit down in the warm water, you feel about ten times better. The warmth unties some of the tension that coils your muscles, and it quells the shivering that had started up as you were sitting on the toilet waiting to be told what to do. Chan urges you to slide down so you're almost submerged, making sure almost all your body is enveloped in warmth, and starts dumping warm water over your head, soaking your hair and washing out the remnants of grime and slush. He's quiet as he does it, humming a low tune, and you close your eyes and let him do as he wants. When he's done, he taps your shoulder, and you sit up, mourning the loss of warmth as your back and chest are exposed to the bathroom air.

"Do you mind?" he asks. You shake his head, uncaring of what he's referring to. You'd let him do anything to you in this state. It turns out "anything" means washing your back, so you again sit still and let him do as he pleases. The pressure of his hands and the sound of his voice, still humming, gradually soothe your mind and body. You stop shivering and tune back into your surroundings.

He's subtly watching your face, so he sees when you come back to yourself and drops his neutral expression. "Back with me?"

You nod. The floaty feelings from being cold and hysterical are gone, but that just means the exhaustion of your day is hitting you full force. You hold out your hand for the washcloth so you can clean the rest of yourself, and he hands it over, but doesn't move to leave, which you appreciate. Now that you're calmer, you think you might be a little more embarrassed asking him to stay.

"I know you said this morning you were cursed, but I didn't think you meant literally," he tries to joke.

You let out a long breath. "I didn't think I meant literally either."

"Wanna talk about it?"

You shrug as you rub the washcloth along your legs, wincing when you remove your still-freezing toes from the water. "What can I say? It was a shit day at work with a shit ending."

"You said your car broke down."

You squeeze your eyes shut. You are not in the mood for this argument. "It just wouldn't start. I don't know what's wrong with it."

"Y/n..." He doesn't say anything more. He knows as well as you do that you'll get nowhere. It's enough to set you off though, now that your exhaustion is making you irritatble.

"It wouldn't have mattered either way if you'd picked up the phone when I called you," you snap. It's unfair and you know it, but before you can begin to feel remorse, Chan's face turns to one of guilt.

"I know, I'm sorry. I still had it silenced from work and didn't realize. When I saw that you called me I tried to call back but the calls didn't go through."

"My phone died. That's why I didn't call an Uber."

Chan shakes his head. "I would call this comical if it wasn't so clearly stressing you out."

"You can still call it comical. Just not within earshot."

"Surely you think better of me than that."

"I do," you say, completely serious. "Sorry. I'm not mad you didn't answer. It's just been a shitty day."

Chan squeezes your shoulder in understanding. "It's alright. I get it."

"I'm really grateful you're here," you say, and you're getting choked up again, emotions all out of whack. "I've never been so happy to see anyone."

"You called three times. Since I couldn't get a hold of you, I hoped you'd still come home and we could talk here."

"You're too good to me."

"I'm exactly as good as you deserve." He leans down to kiss you, long and loving and warm, and the last of the chill in your bones slides away.

-/-

The next morning, Chan calls you in sick before you even wake up. He has to leave for the morning, but comes back around noon with ingredients to make you soup and tea, and rouses you for lunch with all the care and gentleness in the world.  He curls next to you in bed despite your protests that you'll get him sick, but then, it's not like you protest that hard. You're still feverish and needy, and maybe it's not the most ridiculous thing in the world to want to lie in your boyfriend's arms as you recover from what you're pretty sure is mild hypothermia mixed with the flu.

"We were gonna hang out this weekend," you say morosely. "Now I'm trapped in this bed and you're stuck taking care of me."

"Taking care of you is my favorite form of hanging out," he informs you, cleaning away the mug and bowl to bring back to the kitchen. "And hanging up the phone on your boss is my favorite passtime."

"You did not hang up on them," you gasp, hand over your mouth.

Chan shrugs, unbothered. "They seemed a little too annoyed about my request to not tow your car out of the parking lot. I made it very clear that it better be there when you get back on Monday or else."

"So selfless. You could've let them tow it and finally been victorious."

He turns from the kitchen and sits back down on the bed. "You like that car. I'm not going to keep insisting you get rid of it when it means so much to you. Even if I do blame it for the events of yesterday." You glare and he puts his hands up defensively. "If it's not my fault or your fault then I have to blame the car. Sorry not sorry."

"Blame the cursed spirit following me around," you say, sinking miserably into the blankets. "It possessed the engine of my car just to torment me."

"Even more reason to get rid of it."

You're feverish and tired, but the conversation makes you smile nonetheless. "Ask me again when my fever breaks if you still think I should keep it. Maybe it'll burn away the sentimental attachment."

"Don't get my hopes up."

You close your eyes as Chan kisses your forehead, and you slide easily into pleasant dreams.

[hateful-moonchild]

I feel so seen by this. I had so much clothes given at christmases and birthdays that just... never wore. Buying clothes is to this day an uncomfortable experience for me unless I am by myself. There was always this expectation, this persona that I never really was and this underlying dissapointment when it came clear that I just... wasn't gonna become.

I remember my father making this comment sometime on how he always wished his son would share interests with him and how it was so sad it didn't turned out like that. I was so baffled by it, I mean-- My brother and my dad could not be more different. Meanwhile, you have me, a child which he shares not only the most facial features with, but likes, dislikes and interests in hobbys, fashion, books, art, movies and so on.

My relationship with him is really good (the best, really), and never has been bad, but there will always be this voice in the back of my head saying that even though I checked all those boxes it didn't count because I wasn't a boy. Or, well, the grief my mom made my problem when I didn't fullfill her own expectations as her girl child.

So yeah, fuck gendered pareting. Family really is the first prision and this is such a good example of that.

Gendered parenting is so weird. As a little kid I was a total daddy's girl, I was told I would always try to sneak into the garage, I was always very interested in everything he was doing and would follow him around while he was working, but while my family was never the type to outright say "you can't do that because you're a girl", they simply didn't entertain the idea that I could possibly be interested in cars. Then when my little brother was born, it was just assumed he would become a mechanic like our dad because he was a boy. Even though he, unlike me, didn't like being in the garage much and wasn't all that interested in what dad was doing. Once he got to a certain age, dad started making him help and would drag him away from his actual interests for it, which lead to a lot of arguing and not much actual learning.

Gendered expectations sort of create doubles of children. There's the real child with their actual personality, interests and behaviors, and then there's the Gender Child.

My real brother hated soccer and team sports. The Gender Child that existed only the minds of the adults in his life needed to play soccer because that's what a Boy Child does.

Growing up, I always felt like adults didn't actually know me as a person and they weren't interested in getting to know me. Because they felt they'd already learned everything there was to know about me when they were told "it's a girl".

When I talk about how I never got gifts I actually liked from my relatives (to this day I still don't like getting gifts that aren't something I picked out myself), it isn't actually about the gifts themselves. I don't even remember them. What I do remember is the feeling of being given gifts that were seemingly not bought with the real me in mind. They were for the Girl Child™️ version of me. The me that adults wanted me to be, not who I actually was.

[satorurize]

18+, Satoru and Fem!Reader, reader has a flu and satoru is horny asf, creampie, spooning sex, i can't write anything but vanilla sorry :D

People would generally avoid getting too close to sick people, be grossed out, but not your boyfriend, Satoru. If anything, he turned even more clingy and touchy especially when you were sick.

Satoru feels bad for getting turned on while you're sick, stuffy nose and coarse throat, but he really can't help it when he sees you letting out cute moans as you are making your futile attempts to breathe properly. Or perhaps it's the way you have not been wearing any bras underneath your sweaters, the peaks formed by your pebbled nipples underneath the fabric leaves so much to his imagination and he can't help it but feel his pants get unbearingly tight.

He insists on making you the little spoon to keep you warm, going against any fight you put up saying that he'll get sick too. "Me and sickness? Baby that's like south and south of a magnet, just let me warm you up.."

You don't know what sorcerery Satoru does but he manages to get you in the mood by cooing in your ears, nuzzling his nose at the side of your face while the icy tips of his fingers draw patterns on your belly making your feverish body feel like it was ablaze. "Toru please...more.." you cloy and he feels nothing but accomplishments with how much more whinier you sound from the flu, he smiles dimpled, tooth to tooth.

"I've gotchu baby..patience..gonna make you feel real good" without much warning he slips his fingers inside your panties, a synchronised moan fell out from either of your lips, Satoru felt so connected with you even as he drew generous circles on your clit, letting his fingers gather all your nectared sweetness.

He had his fair share of teasing you in the bedroom when you weren't sick, but now that his baby was dependent on him, even just a little, he wanted to give you all, even the most scorching aspect of his love for you. It was beyond logic to understand why he felt this way just because you were sick.

Satoru slowly but unsparingly pumped his fingers into your heat, his hard on unapologetically pressed against the swell of your ass, which he slowly but surely started grinding against you. You with your eager hands couldn't wait any longer, fumbling single handedly with his trousers to take his cock out, your beloved let out a throaty laugh at your avidity, aiding you by pulling it out and discarding his pants away.

He pulled you in roughly, with a playful raspberry blown on your neck. You were onto peeling off your sweater the moment your boyfriend was completely bare, but he held you down, sneaking his one hand underneath your sweater, pinching and flicking your sensitive nipples while his other held his cock, teasing his angry leaky tip onto your glistening folds as you both spooned.

"Don't you dare take that sweater off baby.. you're so fucking hot in that.."

He bottomed out slowly with a soft grunt, holding your body so impossibly close that even merging together felt distant. He fucks you steady and slow, restraining himself from being frantic and each thrust makes you blissfully feel every inch of him, you're a teary, moaning mess and it was exactly what he wanted to achieve.

He presses you down with all his weight, snaking his arm to entangle his fingers with yours, confining your hand tightly against the mattress. Meanwhile, Satoru is on cloud nine, with the aggrevated warmth of your body, the building balmy environment in your bedroom and the way you were squeezing him.

"Fuck yeah baby...keep doing that, gonna fill this pretty cunt up.." He whines and you nod frenzied from the pleasure, reaching your hand to rub rapid circles on your puffy clit—his moans becoming high pitched indicative of his orgasm.

It only takes a second or two after that he cums, releasing his thick ropey ejaculate in your womb and you clench with an orgasm of your own at the sensation of being filled up, milking every last drop.

He pants with a euphoric grin at your fucked out face, nibbling gently on your cheek before he connects your lips in a tender kiss. He keeps rutting his hips into you, seeing how you are oozing out his cum stuffed in you and it makes him rock hard all over again.

And he didn't mind at all waking up with a fever and a stuffy nose the next morning himself.

[dollarbils]

such a fuckboy | b.e.

fwb!billie x fem!reader

context. billie approaches you at an event, but you’re soon reminded that she has others waiting in line for her attention.

warnings. friends with benefits, smut, spit, oral, fingering, teasing.

request/request/request masterlist

her tattooed hand crept behind your back and rested firmly around your hips when she greeted you amidst the crowd.

“hey baby, what’s the frown for?” she commented on your expression, genuine concern spread across her features.

“it’s nothing, i just feel a little out of place here.” you replied, scanning the room once again to be met with unknown faces. you were at some gathering a mutual friend had invited you to, and knowing billie would be there, urged you to go.

“i didn’t expect to see you here, i was surprised. a pleasant surprise of course.” her lips pulled up to one side as she slyly delivered the compliment, a smile forming on your face when she did.

“i didn’t think i was gonna come, but a friend convinced me to. it’s been quite the turnout.” the last was an effort of sarcasm and it made billie chuckle, subconsciously pulling you closer.

“well you look so fucking good babe. it would be a shame to let that go to waste.” her eyes reflected the glistening lights that decorated the venue, as her bottom lip disappeared under her teeth.

“oh yeah? i wonder what your suggestion to fix that would be?” she smiled and was on the verge of finding a witty response before your conversation was interrupted.

“billieee, what’s taking so long? you said you’d be back in a minute.” a blonde emerged from somewhere behind you, her voice whiny and child-like for her age.

“yeah, fuck that’s my bad.” her arm left your body as she let herself get pulled away by one of her other bitches, reminding you of your position.

“i’ll find you. go mingle!” her last desperate words before she was out of your audible range, disappearing with the pretty blonde.

you stood awkwardly for a second, not completely sure what to do with yourself. deciding a drink in your hand would settle your nerves, you headed towards the bar.

“not surprised?” a girl approached you, having heard the last few words of your conversation.

“sorry?” your eyebrows knotted in confusion.

“billie. she’s always wrapped up in someone, you can’t seem to get five minutes alone with that girl. trust me, i know.” she scoffed chewing on the olive from her martini.

“wait, you mean, you? and billie?” you questioned as you were making the connection.

“me and plenty others. she’s ‘been around’ to say the least.” you chuckled when she signalled air quotations with her hands.

“she’s a fuckboy. i’m well aware.” she smirked at the comment.

“well it’s nice to meet another one of billie’s bitches, so to say.” she laughed at her own words.

“yeah, pretty humbling title don’t you think?”

“mm, she picks and chooses.” she shrugged her shoulders as if you were supposed to understand.

“what do you mean?” she paused for a second before speaking, as if not sure of what to reveal.

“well if she’s strung you on for this long it must mean she likes you. most of us get two nights at most before she’s bored.” a twinge of guilt settled in your stomach when she spoke so negatively of billie, who was your friend after all.

“no i mean we’re friends. i’ve know her for years.” you felt like you were bragging somehow, proving your place in billies life, proving to be superior to any other girls concerned.

“damn, i met her last night. im pretty sure she was drunk when she invited me here.” she held back a scoff, continuing the passive aggressive insults. she had been drunk last night, she’d called you.

“that doesn’t sound like her.” you always seemed to find yourself defending her, despite everything you knew. this conversation really hadn’t revealed anything new.

“looks like she’s come crawling back.” she nodded her head towards the girl approaching from behind. and you turned your face to be met with hers.

“back so soon?” you teased and she rolled her eyes. she scanned the girl you were previously talking to, an ounce of recognition clearly present.

“dead weight as usual, who’s this?” billie’s question clearly seemed to upset the girl as her face contorted in anger, but it was obvious she wasn’t surprised.

“honestly, fuck you billie.” she scoffed and walked away, mumbling words of ‘good luck’.

“well that was slightly dramatic.” billie still seemed confused and hadn’t caught on to your comment.

“what was that about?” she turned to place herself in front of you, gently caressing your arms.

“billie. do you seriously not remember?” she smiled awkwardly, catching onto the fact she should know who the girl was.

“uhh, yeah?” she dragged out her words in hesitation.

“you fucked her last night.” her eyes went somewhat wide as she turned to examine the girl.

“no recollection whatsoever of that. to be fair though, i wasn’t really in my right mind, what did she expect.” her nonchalant facade took over as she shrugged her shoulders.

“you invited her here.” her mouth opened in momentary surprise.

“shit, yeah that’s my bad.” she almost chuckled and you couldn’t help shaking your head in disbelief.

“god you’re such a fuckboy.”

“excuse me! i am not.” she huffed, clearly offended.

“oh please.” you rolled your eyes which seemed to annoy her further, her grip on your arms more prominent.

“yeah? say it again.” her tone was demanding but nowhere near the extent of her dominance. she made it almost too easy to counter.

“you’re such a fuckboy, billie.” she narrowed her eyes. “what? you don’t wanna hear it? it’s the fucking truth.” she smiled, clearly recovering from her moment of shock.

“mm,” she paused for a second. “i’ll accept it if you accept your truth.” your eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“tell me.” she was grinning when you urged her to speak.

“you’re just one of my whores, and i know you love it.” she pushed you further against the table behind you, raising her eyebrows to challenge your response.

“maybe, but you can’t deny i’m your favorite.” she smirked, biting the inside of her lip.

“what makes you so sure of yourself, baby?” she was playing with you now, submitting to the tension between you.

“because you never forget your nights with me.” she chuckled, however, still aware of your surroundings. otherwise, she’d have you right there.

“let me take you home.” her nose rubbed against yours tenderly as she placed a kiss on the side of your lips, misdirecting you completely.

“i don’t really want to go home.” you quipped, her eyebrows raising again. her sweet demeanour soon vanished when she spoke again.

“fine by me.” she said simply before forcefully dragging you to go find a spare room. it didn’t take her long either before she found an office type looking room, pulling you inside and locking the door.

“really?” you scrunched your nose up at the room, observing the furniture.

“what? it has a couch. besides, your hardly in the position to complain.” she backed you up against the door as she narrowed her eyes, her black eyeliner doing nothing to make her look less intimidating.

“i guess i shouldn’t put it past you.” she chuckled as her hands traveled to your ass.

“you’re really testing me today, aren’t you sweetheart?” her hands slid under your jeans, threatening the fabric of your underwear as she gripped your bare ass, almost making you jump if you hadn’t been expecting it.

“it’s fun.” this time, your words were almost a whisper, her face so close to yours causing the lower volume.

“mm, it is.” she agreed before bringing her lips to yours, closing the space between you with a kiss. gentle but still firm, her hands doing the work to assert her dominance instead, as she continued palming your ass. her lips left your fairy quickly as she traveled down your neck, the halter top you were wearing giving her easy access.

“billie.” the satisfied mumble left your mouth when her teeth moved the fabric of your top off of your tit, so that her mouth could attach to your nipple. you felt them harden as she sucked and nipped at them, her hands moving to undo your jeans.

“well that was an easy way to shut you up.” her face moved back up to yours and she guided your hips towards the couch, pushing you down as she swiftly followed, climbing on top of you.

“just get on with it.” you rolled your eyes but she clearly didn’t appreciate that. she almost laughed when she closed her hand on your neck.

“i think i’ll take my time, but thanks for the suggestion, baby.” her hand moved to undo the straps of your top, biting her lip when she exposed your tits.

“open up.” her command came with a soft tap of her finger against your lips, one of her hands returning to rest on your neck.

“come on baby, don’t be a brat.” you narrowed your eyes as she brought her face down to yours. when you complied with her request, her spit soon coated the back of your throat, as she closed your jaw, urging you to swallow.

“good girl.” her lips moved towards your tits again, as she began to bite the skin around your nipples, bruising the area. her hands worked quickly to remove your jeans, and she broke away to pull your top off aswell.

“baby, please.” you huffed when her fingers traced your clit through your panties.

“so now you’re all sweet again huh?” she teased, in reality she couldn’t get enough of it. your small sighs of content when her lips wrapped around your nipples, or when her tongue slipped past your lips. she could drown in the sounds of your pleasure.

“billie.” you dragged it out in a whine.

“yes, babe?” her fingertips worked their way past your underwear and through your folds. your mind erased any words you were attempting to say when her lips kissed your jaw. the only sounds leaving your mouth being soft moans as she teased you with her fingers.

“come on, i know you have it in you.” she purred into your ear, the hair on your back raising with shivers travelling down your back.

“no?” her fingers left your pussy and came up to your mouth. she tapped your lip again, pushing them in as you opened your eyes to stare into hers as you sucked on them, making a show of it too.

“there she is.” billie smirked when you moaned against her fingers, her hips beginning to grind on yours. she was becoming more turned on the harder you sucked on her fingers.

“fuck.” she sighed, when they left your mouth with a pop, a trail of saliva following. she couldn’t help but move down your body, sliding your underwear off as she kissed your lower stomach, tracing your thighs with her hands. it didn’t take long for her to move her lips lower, laying her tongue flat against your clit before using her fingers to spread the lips of your pussy. her mouth circled around your entrance, as her nose prodded your clit.

“mm, keep doing that.” she mumbled when your nails dug into her scalp, pulling at her hair while she ate you out. her fingers slid through your pussy, teasing your walls as she worked with her mouth.

“fuck, bils. more p-please.” your words, a mere stutter when she dipped her fingers past your entrance, her lips returning to your clit. your stomach tightened when she curled her fingers, slowly, dragging out your pleasure. her soft groans vibrated through your core as she brought you closer and closer to your release. you clenched around her fingers as she hummed in approval.

“i’m so close bils, c-can i-?” your words were interrupted when she thrusted another finger deeper into your heat, her thumb resting at the base of your entrance, just below her chin.

“mhm, go on baby.” she quickened her movements, as you released on her fingers, your thighs squeezing her head before she used her free hand to push your hips down. she pulled them out and lapped up your arousal, helping you ride out your orgasm.

“oh my god billie.” you sighed, out of breath, when you’d come back to your senses.

“yeah?” she grinned as she came back up to kiss you, holding your chin firmly to make sure you could taste yourself on her tongue.

“bet you’re glad i fuck those girls, hm?” she joked, laughing when she saw your expression.

“billie! what a dick!” you hit her playfully but she just continued laughing.

“i’m joking.” she pecked your lips but you didn’t return the gesture.

“what? come on, don’t be upset.” her expression softened when she realised you were serious, regretting the comment despite it’s humour.

“i’m not upset, it’s just-” you trailed off, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

“hm? you’re jealous?” she smirked resting her body against yours as she sat on your lap.

“no!” you were quick to deny it, a reflex almost. but when she gave you time to think with her silence, you rephrased your response. “well, maybe.” she took your face in the palms of her hands gently.

“don’t i have the right to be? if i were just a good fuck why would you string me along for this long?” her thumbs rubbed your cheeks.

“i’m not trying to string you along, love.” her words were sincere but lacked an answer to your question.

“then what is this?” you gestured between the two of you, asking the million dollar question.

“i don’t know, i guess i just didn’t think you’d want more than just… this.” she repeated your gesture to clarify her words.

“are you joking?” you scoffed, disbelief spread across your features.

“what? it’s kinda awkward to tell one of your closest friends your into her.” she argued in defence.

“a friend you fuck.” you added.

“look, i’m sorry baby. i don’t know what you want from me.” her eyebrows were furrowed and her words tender.

“what do you want?” you asked. curiously, but also out of genuine confusion.

“i just-” she took a second to think. “i just want to see you, be with you. kiss you and… fuck you.” she smiled at the last part, needing to lighten up the conversation. and you laughed at her hesitance to admit it.

“that’s what i want. but i want you to want that with just me. no one else. is that really too much to ask from you?” her smile didn’t falter.

“no, of course not. i want that too.” she kissed you, holing your face, keeping it close to hers. and she didn’t let go.

[moonstruckme]

Could you do a scenario of reader comforting sirus after he gets an injury while playing Quidditch and has to sit out a lot of games?

Thanks for requesting!

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 701 words

Sirius hardly pauses his sulking to mutter a quiet, “thanks,” when you return with his hot cider. 

Remus scoffs. “Nice, Pads.” 

“What?” 

“You’re just so sweet to your girlfriend.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, sitting next to Sirius with a smile. “It’s his first match being barred from the pitch, I get it.” You fix your boyfriend with a look. “I won’t be patient forever, though.” 

Sirius looks genuinely contrite. “Sorry, baby.” You accept his apology kiss, but he scowls when a first year nearly trips on his cast. “Fuck, is this thing bloody invisible?” 

“Easy,” Remus cautions, though both he and you shoot stern looks at the first year. 

“Wanna turn sideways?” you offer. “I could hold it in my lap?” 

Sirius perks up some. “You gonna give me a foot massage, gorgeous?” 

“Merlin,” Remus mutters, scanning the student section for Lily. 

“I don’t really see how that would be possible…” You raise your eyebrows, smiling when Sirius half turns in his seat to plonk his injured leg in your lap. “I was thinking more like I could draw on it. Any tattoos you’ve been wanting on this leg?” 

Most of Gryffindor has already had a turn signing Sirius’ cast. It’s been on since the match last weekend, when a bad fall had broken Sirius’ leg badly enough that Pomfrey eventually had to send him out of the infirmary with skele-gro to heal what she couldn’t. It’ll be on for another couple weeks at least, and between you and James the white plaster is beginning to run out of space. 

“Hm.” Sirius leans over, considering. You’re glad the distraction is working. He’s been quiet and sullen all week because he’s had to miss quidditch training, and you’re sure his melancholy is twice as bad having to miss out on an actual match. “What about a dragon?”

“I could maybe do that.” You fish a marker out of your bag. “What sort of dragon?” 

Sirius’ mood sinks again when the match starts and the players fly out onto the pitch, but as it gets going and Gryffindor starts to score points, he gets into it. He roars with the rest of the crowd, picks up a chant about house pride, and, though he shouts a few obscenities at the beater filling in for him when a bludger gets too close to Bell, he still smiles when James points at him after scoring a goal. A real smile, bright and heart-fluttering. 

Near the end of the game, Sirius looks rather contented. He sips his second cup of cider while you draw daisies in between the other doodles on his cast. 

“They’d have more points if I were out there,” he says, rather mildly. 

Remus nearly snorts. “Yeah? How do you figure?” 

“I’d have sent a bludger towards Malfoy ages ago. There’s been lots of opportunities. Marlene’s holding her own, though,” he acknowledges. “And there are some advantages to being off the pitch for a little while.” 

You catch the syrupy quality to his voice, and turn to find him looking at you. You raise your eyebrows. “Do tell.” 

“Well, the cider, for one.” Sirius holds up his cup, as though that’s obvious. “Can’t usually have that during a match.” 

“Mm, you’re welcome.” 

“Did I not say thank you?” He leans over to nose at your neck. Remus respectfully looks back to the match. “Thank you, baby. Really. It’s great.” 

“I didn’t make it.” You grin at him. “What are the other things?” 

Sirius hums. “No early morning training. I get to have breakfast with my girl.” 

“No afternoon training on the weekends, either.” 

“Ah, see? You’re catching on.” 

“Don’t talk down to me,” you laugh. “You’re the one who’s been giving everyone the cold shoulder all week, Black.” 

“I know.” Sirius pulls his face from beneath your jaw. The playfulness is mostly gone from his expression, his eyes deep blue and full of apology. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to give anyone the cold shoulder, I just…” 

“It’s okay,” you say easily. You lean over, kissing the top of his head. “Really, I get it. You alright?” 

Sirius sighs, looking out over the pitch. “Yeah.” 

You rest your cheek on his hair. “Good.”

[its-your-mind]

Hey so I really appreciate you coming over and helping me edit my college essays, you were totally right, a lifetime of negotiating treaties has made you scary-good at this, but before you head out I need to tell you something. Nono, I’m not planning on moving away for school, and I still want you to keep coming over to help with my work if you still want to. It’s just for the past few months I’ve been having these really vivid dreams about the fantasy world you tell me stories about sometimes? And for a while I thought they were just dreams that I was making up based on the stories you told, but I had a dream a few nights ago where we were up late at night together sitting side by side at a desk lit by a werelight and pouring over a piece of paper, trying to negotiate freedom for our captured warriors. Yeah I said ‘our.’

And then you came here today and while you were editing you talked about that treaty, the treaty I had dreamed about days ago before you had mentioned it, and it finally hit me that my dreams are… are my memories from that fantasy world, coming back. I think. I Hope. And I don’t know what to do with that, because if I’m honest I love you even though I shouldn’t, and it doesn’t feel like a love that grew just from sitting with you over calculus, it feels like a love that grew out of knowledge and trust and secrets and time and sacrifice. But I still feel seventeen? And you still look eighteen, even though I know you’re not really, but I just. There’s this hole in my heart that’s been getting bigger and bigger and I’m pretty sure it’s the space you used to fill, and I miss you even though you’re right here and I was just um. Oh. Yeah, yes please, please you can kiss me if you want, I keep seeing it in my dreams and wanting it so bad and– hmph!

Hey so that was a great date, yeah, but I don't think it's going to work out. Nono you didn't do anything wrong, and I have indeed had a crush on you since we started high school, it's just... well, I didn't want to bring it up at the time but we kinda got sucked into a portal fantasy midway through. We saved the kingdom over and over, relying on our knowledge of and trust in each other every time, throwing ourselves into the firing line to protect each other and using each others' conviction as a rock. We got married and lived a happy life together until the portal sucked us back mid-battle and you gave up all your memories of our journey in order to save my life right when we ended up back in the coffee shop. Yeah that was when I got a bit weird and went to the bathroom.

Anyway I thought we could push on and make the date work but I have all of these memories of secrets that this you never chose to share, decisions that this you never made, and intimacies that this you never experienced. And it's kind of screwing with the vibe yeah. Also on the date it was really, blatantly clear that you're sixteen whereas I have memories of ruling a fantasy kingdom for thirty years so like... that's a problem all on its own. Anyway this you just feels more like a daughter to me. A daughter with the woman I gave my heart and soul to over and over and received like in return, only to lose her forever on the journey home. On the plus side I can definitely help you with your math homework now.

[clarii]

Be My Baby

Summary: Eddie Munson never thought he’d fall for someone like you—the quiet one who always seemed to blend into the background. But as fate keeps pulling you together, he finds himself unable to resist your charm. When the school’s winter formal comes around, Eddie takes a leap of faith, hoping to finally win your heart.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, a little awkwardness, shy moments, mutual pining, a touch of 80s high school angst, and a sweet, heartwarming ending.

Author’s Note: This is inspired by “Be My Baby” by The Ronettes, which is one of my all-time favorite love songs! Hope you enjoy!

The first time Eddie Munson saw you, he thought you were too good for Hawkins. You were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria with a book in your lap, your legs tucked underneath you as you half-listened to your friends’ chatter. There was something about the way you laughed softly, like you didn’t want to disturb anyone, that made Eddie’s heart skip a beat.

“Earth to Munson,” Gareth teased, snapping his fingers in Eddie’s face. “You’ve been staring at the same girl for five minutes. You good?”

Eddie blinked, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Yeah, yeah. Just… zoning out.”

“Right,” Gareth smirked. “Zoning out on her, huh?”

Eddie ignored him, but deep down, he couldn’t deny it. There was something about you that drew him in, even though you seemed worlds apart.

The second time he saw you, it was at the record store. You were thumbing through the vinyl, your fingers delicate as they flipped through the sleeves. Eddie couldn’t help but linger a few feet away, pretending to browse but really watching you.

When you pulled out a copy of The Ronettes’ Greatest Hits, his heart stuttered. He couldn’t stop himself from speaking up.

“Classic choice,” he said, leaning against the shelf with his signature grin.

You glanced up, startled, but then smiled shyly. “Thanks. I love their sound—it’s just so timeless.”

Eddie nodded, trying to keep his cool. “Yeah, it’s good stuff. You going to the winter formal? They usually play stuff like that.”

You tilted your head, surprised he’d asked. “I don’t think so. It’s not really my thing.”

“Not your thing?” Eddie echoed, pretending to be scandalized. “But slow dances, bad punch, and awkward small talk—it’s the highlight of high school.”

You laughed softly, the sound making his chest feel warm. “Maybe if I had a good reason to go, I’d consider it.”

Eddie bit his tongue, stopping himself from blurting out something stupid. Instead, he just nodded. “Well, if you change your mind… you never know.”

For days, Eddie couldn’t stop thinking about you. He’d never been one for dances or anything that screamed “traditional high school experience,” but for you, he’d make an exception.

“Dude, just ask her,” Dustin urged as they packed up after Hellfire one afternoon.

Eddie sighed, ruffling his hair in frustration. “It’s not that easy, Henderson. She’s… different. She’s not into guys like me.”

“You don’t know that,” Dustin argued. “She talked to you, didn’t she? That’s a good sign.”

Eddie hesitated, but Dustin’s words stuck with him.

The week before the dance, Eddie found you sitting alone outside the library, flipping through the pages of another book. His heart raced as he approached, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets to keep them from fidgeting.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

You looked up, your eyes lighting up when you saw him. “Oh, hey, Eddie.”

He shifted on his feet, suddenly nervous. “So, uh, about the formal… I was thinking, maybe you’d want to go. With me. As, like, my date.”

Your eyes widened, and for a moment, Eddie thought he’d made a huge mistake. But then you smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through the clouds.

“I’d love to,” you said simply.

The night of the formal, Eddie picked you up in his van, his heart pounding as he saw you step outside in a simple but beautiful dress.

“You look… wow,” he said, his usual bravado gone.

“Thanks,” you replied, blushing. “You look great too.”

Eddie, in his mismatched suit and messy hair, didn’t feel particularly great, but the way you smiled at him made him believe you meant it.

At the dance, the two of you stuck to the edges of the gym, laughing at the cheesy decorations and bad song choices. But then, the opening chords of “Be My Baby” started playing, and Eddie’s breath caught.

“Wanna dance?” he asked, holding out his hand.

You nodded, letting him lead you onto the floor. As the music swelled, he held you close, his heart racing as your head rested on his shoulder.

“You know,” he murmured, “I never thought I’d end up at a dance like this. But now that I’m here… it’s not so bad.”

You smiled against his shoulder. “Me neither. But I’m glad I came.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, his voice hopeful.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “With you, it’s perfect.”

And as the song played on, Eddie knew he’d never forget this moment—or you

[theemporium]

Maybe nico hischier x hughes!reader and them spending Christmas with the hughes family? Please and thank you

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“Nico gets to pick.” 

“What?” Jack quickly sat up from his spot on the couch, looking at his mother in betrayal. “I thought it my turn to pick.” 

“Nico is our guest,” Ellen retorted. “So he gets to pick.”

Nico’s cheeks flushed. “Oh no, I don’t—”

“Oh please, he is hardly a guest anymore,” Jack scoffed. “He’s basically been in this family as long as Luke has.”

Luke’s brows furrowed together. “Dude, I know you didn’t go to college but your maths is wack.” 

“He is a guest joining us for the holidays and he gets to choose,” Ellen stated bluntly, shooting her son a knowing look. “Do you have a problem with that?” 

Jack sighed dramatically as he settled back down in his seat. “No.” 

Nico’s eyes shifted back and forth between Ellen and Jack before he cleared his throat, a sheepish expression on his face. “I choose Home Alone.”

Jack’s face instantly brightened. “Knew letting you pick was a great idea, Hisch.” 

“Back off my boyfriend,” you grumbled as you shoved him back into your seat, grinning a little when he let out a squawk of protest before you cuddled yourself closer into Nico’s side. You pinched his side lightly to catch his attention. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You forget that I have been on a team with him for the last few years,” Nico mused, his arm winding around your shoulders to hold you closer. “I was doing that for my own sake as much as his.”

You pressed your face into his chest in a failed attempt to muffle your laughter.

“I know you are talking about me over there and it’s considerably rude to do so,” Jack called out from the other side of the couch.

“That’s just because you like hearing people talk about you,” Quinn retorted. “Especially Nico.”

“You should see how bad he is when—” However, whatever Luke was going to say was instantly cut off as Jack shoved a pillow in his face, trying to smother him before he could finish his sentence.

“Jack, leave your brother alone,” Jim said in a fairly unconvincing voice, looking far too amused at the situation as a whole to really stop it.

“Unfortunately for him, you are my favourite Hughes,” Nico murmured in your ear as the chaos between Jack and Luke continued.

You tilted your head back to smile at him. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he confirmed with a nod, risking the chance to lean down and press a chaste kiss against your lips.

“THAT’S A FINE!” 

You rolled your eyes at your oldest brother. “Shut up, Jack.”

“PDA during movie night means fifty bucks in the jar.”

“You too, Quinn.”

“Actually—”

“Luke, don’t even start.”

.

[enderlovez]

Big Secret

Spencer Reid x BAU Reader WORD COUNT: 2100+

Summary: You've tried to hard to keep your daughter a secret from Spencer after her father left, but what happens when this secret finally comes to light?

Content Warning: fear of abandonment, abandonment of pregnant woman, reader gets anxiety

A/N This was requested, and I'm not to sure how I did here. There'll probably be a bunch of mistakes because I'm really tired right now.

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

The first time Spencer asks if something's wrong, you almost laugh. Not because you find it funny in any sense of the world, but because there is something wrong, and you can't find it in yourself to tell him.

He's studying you with those piercing eyes, like he can read every thought you've ever had. His brow is furrowed in that way that makes him look younger than he is, and for a split second, you wonder if he really can hear your thoughts.

"You've been a little off lately," he says, the concerns in his voice too subtle for most people to notice, but you hear it. "Is... everything okay?"

You smile, forcing the curve of your lips to stay steady. "Everything's fine, Spence. Just a lot on my mind, you know?"

It's the truth. Sort of. Work is, as always, chaotic as hell. But there's something gnawing at you, something you can't make yourself say out loud.

Spencer doesn't push, but you know he's watching, waiting for you to say more on your own. That's the thing about him—he's patient, a quality you greatly admire. But when he wants something, he tends to get it.

You've had a few drinks together after work, spent quiet hours in coffee shops, talking about cases, about books, about life. You think you're starting to let yourself like him.

You think he might be starting to like you, too, even though the lines between friendship and... something more are still blurry, and you haven't yet figures out how to cross them without making a mess.

Then, of course, there is the little secret of your daughter—the very secret that keeps you up at night, wondering if you've already ruined whatever future could happen.

"Is everything really fine?" Spencer asks again, his voice a little softer now, like he's trying to coax the truth out of me without making it feel like an interrogation. It feels like one anyway.

You nod quickly, maybe a little too quickly. "Yeah. Really. Just... personal stuff."

He watches you for a beat longer, clearly not entirely convinced, but also not going to press for more. Spencer isn't like that. He respects boundaries. He respects you, in a way that makes your chest tighten every time he looks at you, like you're something he can lose if he doesn't handle you with enough care.

And maybe that's it. Maybe you're afraid of him seeing the part of you that isn't as easy to love, the part that you're still learning to love yourself.

Maybe that's why you've kept Isla a secret, but you've never mentioned her in passing conversations, or even when he asks about your life outside the job.

You want him to see you as someone who can go out for a drink after a case without having to worry about a three-year-old waiting for her mother to come home.

But that's not you. You've got Isla. You've got your little girl, and one day, Spencer's going to have to know, as terrifying as that thought is to you.

You're not ashamed of your daughter, you could never be ashamed of your little girl.

But the last man who found out about her—her own father—ran for the hills before she was even born. The thought of Spencer doing the same, of him walking away the second he finds out about Isla, has been eating away at you from the first time you went out together.

You tell yourself it's not about him being a bad guy, because he's not. Spencer's kind and thoughtful and he doesn't seem like the type of man to judge.

But it's not like you can help the fear, that he might not want a woman with a child, especially one as young as Isla. She's the center of your world, she will always come first, and you can't risk losing Spencer for the same reason you lost Isla's father.

"Are you sure?" Spencer's voice cuts through your thoughts, soft and insistent. He's still looking at you, like he's waiting for the truth to slip from your lips, like he knows it'll happen eventually. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it a little difficult to breathe. His words, so simple, so caring, somehow makes the weight on your shoulders heavier.

What would it feel like to tell him?

To let him in, to share this huge part of yourself with someone who could very well walk out of your life when he finds out?

It's easier to just nod and pretend everything's fine. It's easier to lie, to keep him at arms length, than risk him seeing who you really are—a mother, sure, but also someone who's terrified of being left again.

But Spencer doesn't deserve that. You know he doesn't deserve that, to keep wondering what's going on inside your head when he's done nothing but be there for you, day after day.

"I..." You hesitate, your breath catching in your chest. "There's something I should tell you, but it's really... it's going to complicate things."

Spencer doesn't say anything right away. He just watches you, and for a brief moment, the distance between you feels impossible to manage. You take a step forward, closing that space as best you can.

"You don't have to tell me if you're not ready to," he says finally, his voice so gentle that it almost breaks you. "You never have to feel obligated to tell me anything, I just want you to know I'm here if you wanna talk."

And right then, something shifts.

You're not entire sure what, but something deep inside wonders if maybe—just maybe—it might be time to tell him about the life you've tried to hard to keep hidden. About your precious little girl, and about her father who she's never known, and about the fears that keep you awake at night.

About the little girl who's waiting for you at home, her smile the only thing that keeps you going when everything else is so shaky.

"I have a daughter," you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "She's three. Her name's Isla."

He blinks, processing, before his expression softens. He doesn't say anything at first, just watches you with (gorgeous) eyes of his that feel almost like they can see right into your soul.

You hold your breath, waiting for his reaction. You're expecting him to step away from you, to give some polite excuse and walk out the door.

But instead, he surprises you. "I'd really like to meet her, if that's something you'd be okay with."

You blink at him, feeling your heart skip a beat. "You... you would? You want to meet Isla?"

Spencer smiles, just a little, but it's blindingly bright in your eyes. "Of course, I want to meet the little girl who obviously means so much to you."

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

You stand outside your apartment door, fingers nervously playing with the strap of your bag, suddenly feeling like you're about to do something you can't undo.

Which, you are, but that doesn't stop your heart from thumping uncomfortably, or your stomach from fluttering with anxiety.

Spencer's standing beside you, his eyes scanning the hallway, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looks calm, maybe even a little curious, but you can tell he's waiting for you to make the first move, to invite him inside where everything will change.

It helps knowing that, if you happen to change your mind, he'll leave the second you ask him to.

The familiar hum of the building's old pipes is the only sound between you. You're about to let Spencer see Isla. You're about to let him into this part of your life you've kept so carefully hidden. And it is terrifying.

It's one thing to share a drink or talk about drinks. It's an entirely different thing to show another person the most vulnerable part of yourself.

The next door over swings open, and your neighbor, Maria, steps out. She looks up from her phone when she spots you, waving with the hand that's holding Isla's favorite stuffed bunny—she probably left it there at some point.

"Hey, just finished feeding her a few minutes ago," Maria says with a smile, but there's a hint of urgency in her voice as she checks her watch. "I was just 'boutta call you, gotta head out. You good here?"

You nod, forcing a smile as you take Isla's stuffed animal from Maria. "Yeah, thanks. She's been good today?"

"She's always good, she's a sweetheart," Maria says before turning on her heel, heading towards the stairs with quick steps. She glances back at you once to make sure you're alright before she's gone.

You watch her go, your breath catching in your throat as you unlock the door.

Every part of you is screaming that this isn't a good idea, that you're making a huge mistake by letting Spencer in, but you push those thoughts away as best you can, forcing yourself to step inside and gently pulling him by the sleeve of his jacket.

"Come on in," you say, trying to sound casual, but the words sound all wrong in your own ears, and they surely sound the same to Spencer.

Spencer hesitates for a moment before stepping through the doorway. The second his foot crosses the threshold, something in the air shifts, though neither of you can name what it is.

Isla's small shoes are lined up neatly by the door beside yours, and you can hear her humming softly from the living room. It's the sound of home.

Some of the anxiety fades away. It's more strange than anything to have Spencer here, where it's all real and in front of him.

You move towards the living room, trying to steady your breath. There, sitting on the floor with a coloring book spread out in front of her and a variety of markers and pencils at her side, is Isla.

Her hair's a bit messy, the way it always gets after a nap, but her wide eyes light up the moment she notices you.

"Mommy!" Isla calls, her little face breathing into a grin as she scrambles to her feet. She's barely two and a half feet tall, one of her little hands clutching her stuffed bunny tightly, the other wrapped around your legs.

You plop down on the sofa and ruffle her hair affectionately, a soft smile gracing your lips.

And then, she sees Spencer.

For a moment, Isla just stares at him, wide-eyed and quiet. Spencer's already crouched down, his hands resting gently on his knees, not moving, simply waiting for her to decide if she'll approach him or not.

You hold your breath, watching the moment unfold in real time—you've never had to share this part of your life with anyone. You've never had to share her with another person. And for a brief moment, you're more worried about how she'll react.

And then, like she's made up her mind, Isla takes a few tentative steps toward Spencer. She looks up at him, her face a picture of innocent curiosity, and before either of you can say anything, she reaches out, quickly offering him her stuffed bunny.

Oh, thank God.

Spencer looks at the bunny, then back at her, his expression softening. "Thank you," he says, his voice gentle, as it's as if a part of you clicks into place. Like he's not only accepted you, but now, he's accepting Isla, too.

He's accepting your baby, and you feel like you're going to cry.

She smiles up at him, and for a second, it feels like everything's going to be okay. He doesn't look at her like she's an obstacle, or like he doesn't know what to do.

He looks at her the way he always looks at you—with patience, and something else that you have a hard time naming.

Isla giggles, her small hand still holding the bunny, as then she shyly crawls into your lap, hiding her face against your chest.

Spencer chuckles, the sound low and warm, as he sits down beside you, observing the interaction. You rub your hand up and down Isla's back and press a firm kiss to the top of her head.

After another quiet moment, Isla crawls off you again, sitting back on the floor in front of her coloring book.

"So, uh, do you like coloring?" Spencer asks, his voice carefully light, as he looks over at Isla, who's now holding a crayon like it's the most important thing in the world.

She nods solemnly, but then grins up at him. "I like pink," she says, matter-of-factly, and then she goes back to her drawing.

Spencer's eyes twinkle with amusement. "Pink's a great color," he agrees, and you can't help but smile.

Maybe this isn't so bad after all.

[batmanluigi]

That's one thing I never understood..

Why the Right insists that taxing the rich is a bad idea because the money "trickles down" and everything else will fall into place, as "The Gods" intended.. These people got exactly where they are by not doing exactly that in the first place. Whatever makes anyone think that they will do it when they're wealthy? Trickle-down economics has been a proven failure. Even when they do donate to causes here and there, they are not fixing systemic government/U.S. issues.. It's a meaningless band-aid so they can say, "I did something."

Then, on top of that, they can also use the donations as tax write-offs.. so essentially, society nets nothing.

Besides, the act of helping people in that manner essentially puts the Rich in a(nother) position of power, and a sense of debt potentially ends up being planted to recipients.. And I personally think that power should not be up to individual people in that way.

The line between the U.S. population is not drawn vertically; It is drawn horizontally. The top portion acts as if it cannot survive unless it keeps this line vertical.

Health insurance is not the same thing as a healthcare system.. You want the "working class" to help itself? .. Even the name of that genre of people is made to sound like they are slaves. Maybe solve the issue of why personal healthcare insurance premiums in the U.S. are the same price as a monthly car loan, and doesn't cover anything (minus some preventative measures, thanks ACA) until you pay over $7,000 within the year.

Oh, and don't forget premium costs rising every year, due to "inflation".. Yeah, you really cannot blame everything on inflation when your company is regularly reporting record profits.

This is just one example of the many exploitable facets of U.S. life that have been analyzed and broken down to be most profitable for the few, and it is government-backed. They can do it because Congress allows them to.

"We pay the #1 most in the world for healthcare, yet we rank only #42 in life expectancy."

-- The Manifesto

Burn the system to the fucking ground. Scrap it. Throw the whole thing away. The charade has gone on long enough. Do not let this issue die with time. Healthcare is a human right.

imagine simping for capitalism this badly

[writting-stuff-sometimes]

Play with fire Pt 2- LN4 X Fem reader

Pairing: Lando x Y/n Fewtrell

Warnings: physical Fight

Notes: Here's the second part, it gets messy but I'm almost done with part 3, so it won't be long for it to get better. As always, feedback is really appreciated, and receiving requests.

Thanks for the love.

Part 1

_______

It was the sixth month anniversary with Lando and you had planned to spend one whole week together in Mónaco. As part of the plan, he leased a villa and invited Max, Pietra, and a couple friends to Nice for the last days of the summer break. A few days later he lied and told them he was needed back at the MTC a week early but convinced them to stay back for the remaining days, and you lied to your parents saying you were spending that week with Leah, your bff.

It was day 3 of eating junk food, watching trash TV, and having sex 24/7. You had never been more in love with the man sleeping beside you. Your head on his chest, his soft snoring so relaxing you had no idea how you would be able to fall asleep without him every night.

"Hey mate, are you here?" Your brother's voice made your heart stop. Were you dreaming? "Bob!" Yup, it was your brother.

"Lan, baby" you moved him softly enough not to scare him.

"Yaaaawww" He yawned loudly "Hi bab-"You covered his mouth. His eyes stared at you confused.

"Max is here" You whispered.

"What?"

"Lando, are you here mate? Your car is in the garage" You could see his soul leave his body.

"What is he doing here?" you asked

"No idea!"

You heard a suitcase rolling down the hallway.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck" You started panicking.

"Shh, everything is going to be ok. Stay here" he kissed your lips and stood up, putting on his boxers and joggers. "Be right back" he whispered, and walked out, closing the door behind him. You stood up, put on your pajamas, and rushed to press your ear to the door.

"Hey Mate"

"Oh hey, I thought you were at the MTC"

"Oh, yeah, we finished early"

"It's Wednesday, I thought you were staying there the whole week"

"Yeah, nah, came back this morning"

"That must be a record"

"Yeah, great results"

"Sounds like it"

"What are you doing here?" Lando was trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, but damn was he a bad actor.

"Oh, I messaged you yesterday, P, wasn't feeling well so we decided to return early. You didn't get it?"

"I...I don't even know where I left my phone"

"Oook" Your brother stared at Lando trying to figure out why he was behaving weirdly.

"So, I'm hungry. Do you want to go eat something? Do you want to go get some pizza?" Lando tried to get Max away from the house so you had enough time to figure out a plan. As much as he had been waiting and begging for you to come clean, this was not how he would like to do it.

"Nah, thanks. Actually, P is downstairs sleeping in the car. Plus, I'm not sure if I'm tired from the drive or if I've caught whatever she has; I feel weird, so I'm just taking a quick shower, and I'll spend the night over at her hotel in case she needs something."

"Oh, ok, yeah, that sounds good" You and Lando could finally breathe.

"Are you ok mate? You look flustered"

"Yeah, nah, I'm just tired, it's been quite a week"

"Yeah, I imagine. I'm going to take a quick shower and will be out of here so you can rest"

"Ok, fine, yes"

Your brother went to the guest room, Lando waited until Max's door was closed to go inside his.

"Fuck, that was scary" You whispered still worried Max could hear you from across the hall. "And you're such a terrible actor"

"Hey, I'm not that bad"

"Yeah, you are" You hugged him, placing your head against his chest as his hands caressed your hair. The sound of the shower calming your rushing hearts.

"I have to admit tho" He pushed you away lightly so you were facing him. "This was kind of hot"

"What?"

"Yeah, like this rush, it makes me almost not want to tell him and see how much we can keep sneaking around"

"You're sick" You stared at him, a half smile on your face.

"This is what you've done to me, you've made me a sick, obsessed, unsatiable man" He made a fist with your hair and pulled you to join your lips in a wild kiss.

"Mate, do you have-" Your brother knocked on Lando's door but opened it immediately, a beautiful habit he's had since childhood.

You all stared at each other in shock.

It was a scene straight out of a comedy or a horror movie, depending on who you asked.

You could see your bother's mouth trying to voice his thoughts, but there were too many. The moment you saw his jaw clench you knew you had to speak before Lando did. You loved the man but even with all the PR training, he was the worst at this kind of situation.

"Max, listen" You started in a low voice, taking a step toward him without letting go of Lando's hand. Your bother just raised his hand, one finger up signaling you to wait. "Max, everything's fine, ok?"

"No" He said, his voice so low it was almost scary

"Yes" You tried to remain calm, and so did Lando but the thigh grip he had on your hand told you he was as nervous as you.

"You're fucking my little sister?" He finally voiced the loudest thought in his head, his eyes piercing holes into Lando's.

Not that you were sensitive to the word fuck, but this time it made your skin crawl, being used by your brother to describe what you and Lando had felt just wrong.

"Mate, wait" Lando mimicked your calm voice.

"I'm not your mate!" Your brother raised his voice and you squeezed Lando's hand as a silent request to remain calm. "Mates-don't-fuck- their-mates-sisters" You could see his arms tense, his fingers white from the tight fists.

"We're not fucking" He answered.

"Oh no? Then what's happening here?" He walked in the room pacing around in a frenetic way.

"Both your clothes everywhere, the bed a fucking mess, the condom box on the nightstand? Tell me Lando, what is it that I'm seeing?"

"Max, listen" Max's eyes fixed on your intertwined fingers.

"You shut up, wait until Mom and Dad know about this"

"Don't talk to her like that" Lando tried to defend you but you placed your hand on his chest trying to hold him back.

"I'm not a child anymore Max, I'm a grown-up"

"Oh please, you're a freaking child, and fucking Lando proves it"

"Whether you like it or not, I'm an adult now, and I get to choose who I date, no matter what you or our parents have to say about it"

"Date? You're dating him?"

"Yes" You answered confidently.

"Listen, mate, I love her, ok?" His voice in a calm yet confident tone that made your heart rush with love.

"I'm going to kill you"

"Max" You could read in his body language he was about to lose it.

"I'm going to kill you, Lando"

"Max, wait, please" You tried to place yourself between them but before you knew it your brother was pushing Lando against one of the walls, his forearm pressing his neck as he pushed him hard, Lando tried to push Max away without hurting him.

"Max, wait, what the fuck?" You tried to get close to them.

"Y/n, no, stand back" Lando yelled at you when he saw you were getting closer.

"You're a fucking morron" Your brother kept pushing Lando against the wall.

You rushed to the nightstand and took your phone from the charger ringing Pietra.

"Hello?" The calm sleepy voice on the other side of the line was the complete opposite of the scene right in front of you. You felt bad for bringing her into this, but you needed help to get your bother to calm down, and she was your best option.

"P, you need to get up here, please"

"Y/n? Where are you?"

"Lando's apartment, please, get up here now!" You hung up hoping she was on her way.

"Mate, listen to me, I swear to God, this is not what you think" Lando tried to use his calmest voice possible, trying just to cover himself from the fists being thrown around by your brother.

"Max, stop it! You're behaving like an animal, stop!" You tried to get your brother off your boyfriend but he kept pushing you back.

You heard the door panel beep and then the door opened.

"Over here!" you yelled trying to lead her to the master bedroom, not that the sound of stuff being thrown around wasn't going to lead her there anyway,

"What's happening?" She stared in shock at the scene in front of her "Max, stop it" She tried to approach the fighting men but they pushed her back too.

"Maximilian, you have to calm down, now!" P's voice actually worked, getting your brother to stand back.

"P, this is between Lando and me"

"No, it's not!" You yelled back at him.

"You shut up! Grab your things, you're coming with me right away"

"No"

"Y/n, I'm not playing!"

"Neither am I, I'm not leaving with you, Max"

"Aaaahhh" Your brother screamed and squatted down covering his head with his hands. Pietra was about to walk over to him but you stopped her, asking her to let you go first.

"Max" You said softly walking over to him. Slowly you placed your hand over his shoulder "Max, please you have to listen to us, please"

"Screw you two" He stood up, took P's hand, and walked out of the apartment slamming the front door.

You sighted in defeat, at least he wasn't punching Lando anymore, but it was so painful to see your brother so hurt.

"Baby" You walked over to Lando who was walking back to the bed, holding his ribcage "Are you ok?"

"Yes, I've had worst on track"

"Let me see" You held his face inspecting it, he had a couple of red bruises here and there, but most of the damage had been done to his chest and shoulders. You started shaking.

"Baby" You hugged him, falling to your knees in front of him, tears finally flooding your eyes.

"Shhh it's ok, it will all be ok" He hugged you tightly against his chest, he could feel slight pain but soothing you was more important.

He pulled you up and placed you on the bed, holding your thigh against him.

"It will be ok" he said softly against your hair.

"I know" You answered back between sobs.

"Well, the cat's out of the bag" Lando tried to joke the tension away.

"You think we should've told him sooner?"

"He might have reacted the same, so I'm afraid any time would've led to the same result"

You remained on the bed, with many questions in your heads. Now that Max knew you had to tell your parents, he would probably do everything he could to have them on his side. What was going to happen to Quadrant? Not that Lando didn't trust he could convince Max this wasn't a bad thing, but fear lingered there.

You stood from the bed and started picking up the mess the fight had left.

"Baby come here-"

"Lan, this helps me, let me just... if I can't fix the situation I can at least fix this"

He stood up and helped you clean.

After what felt like an hour or two your phone dinged.

Pi 🌸 Max is calm now, he has agreed to go back up and talk with you guys, we'll be up in a second, but please no PDA for now!

"Lan, they're coming back up, let's go sit in the living room"

"So he can break more stuff?" You stared at Lando "Sorry, no more jokes"

"And no hand holding or kissing, or hugging"

"Are you serious?"

"Just until we get him to listen to everything we have to say"

"Fine"

You waited for your brother in the living room, sitting on opposite sides of the sofa.

You heard the lock panel and your heart rushed. Your brother opened the door letting Pietra in first, she walked all the way next to the sofa but your brother remained at the door.

"Ok, I'm here, talk" His voice was a version you had never heard before.

"Max, we're sorry we didn't come forward about this sooner, I'm sorry, I just, I had no idea how to tell you" You spoke first.

A sarcastic snort left his body as he crossed his arms.

"Love" Pietra stared at him.

"Fine, continue" He rolled his eyes.

If only your brother knew he was responsible for this happening.

______________________________

Part 1

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