#he's so introverted someone please help him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mylonelylife135 · 4 months ago

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My Pathetic Family

Not a funny joke.

TW: Death, Introverted behaviors (Bruh-) Panic attack (Not from you!) Detailed descriptions of gore!

Alfred was getting increasingly worried for you as each day passed by.

Ever since the incident with Master Dick, you stopped playing with your favorite stuffed plushies all together, did not do any more tea parties he would personally partake in, and avoided sitting on the floor.

Now all you did the majority of the time was watch TV in rooms that were often forgotten about.

It was not like you hadn't done anything else, but Alfred found it difficult to get you to the park due to your... fears about encountering Master Dick.

He did not blame you, and while he did have a duty to treat all those in Wayne Manor with respect he found himself almost getting frustrated with the young boy at times more than he would like to admit.

He knew that it wasn't good for you to be in the manor all the time doing nothing as a toddler your age.

He also knew that forcing you to go outside would not be good for you.

He tried, once. You clung to his legs so tightly and stared up at him with such sadness and fear that he swore he could feel his own heart stop at such an expression.

These last three months since the incident you have not set a foot outside the manor, and it seemed like with each day that passed your fear was slowly increasing.

He was seeing a three year old turning into a recluse at such a young age because of one accident. Was it, though?

It was heartbreaking.

Alfred didn't see a way you would improve without some sort of guidance.

So, he would turn to Bruce.

Of course, he was not of much help.

He found himself saddened at that he was no longer surprised at the lack of effort.

He just wondered, why?

... It didn't matter. Not right now when he could see that (____)'s mental state was worsening. He couldn't have any more arguments with someone he considered his son when his daughter was hurting.

It reminded him of Bruce when he was a child who had just lost her parents, in a way. He didn't fail Bruce. He wouldn't fail (____), either.

"Master (____), I would like you to come with me to the living room." Alfred requested, his voice soft as he watched you stiffen up.

You were still scared of going outside.

He was going to change that.

He outstretched his hand towards you, kneeling down to your height and giving you a warm smile. "Please."

You hesitantly reached your hand out before putting it in Alfred's.

Alfred stood up, leaning down slightly as his hand was in yours, and he led you out of your room and down the long hallways.

You clutched Alfred's hand instinctively as he led you towards the living room, your eyes looking around warily and occasionally behind you as you were guided farther and farther away from your bedroom.

Alfred gently ushered you into the living room, shutting the door behind him.

"No more hiding in your room, (____). Let's try something new, okay?" He said softly as you glanced around; noticing some key differences in the room.

The table was pushed off to the side as well as the couch, creative a wide space in the middle of the room.

On the floor were sketch papers, markers, crayons, oil pastels, and colored pencils with a large variety of colors.

You glanced up at Alfred with a confused expression, as if asking what was the purpose of this.

"It's to draw, Master (____). You haven't... haven't been as happy active in anything for quite a while now." Alfred approached you, sitting down in front of the paper and art utensils and patting the spot next to him.

"Come. Let's draw together, (____)."

You sat down next to Alfred, sitting criss-cross and peering up at Alfred. "Why drawing?" You asked, watching as Alfred picked up a yellow crayon and slid a paper in front of you and himself.

"Because you have a bright mind, (____). You just haven't shown it yet." He responded, sliding a blue crayon towards you.

"Draw whatever you like. I think you'll enjoy it more than you think you will."

You picked up the blue crayon, looking down at the paper and thinking about what to draw.

What did you like? You used to like your stuffies, not as much anymore, though. You liked tea party's, but you stopped having those since...

You didn't want to keep thinking of him. You didn't want to see his face full of anger in your head again-

He's already haunted you enough in your dreams.

"I... I like dogs." You muttered, dragging the crayon you held in your dominant hand and dragging it slowly across the paper.

You made a line, then another, and another.

Alfred watched as you started drawing, a smile crossing his face as he began to draw alongside you. He preferred to draw a cat.

He would glance occasionally at your drawing, watching you draw with a concentrated expression and tongue sticking out.

After 10 minutes of comfortable silence, you let out an annoyed groan.

"This doesn't lok-look like a dog." You frowned, bringing up the paper for Alfred to see.

It was a dog with a square chest, four small lines that were supposed to be legs, a wavy line that was supposed to be its tail and a round circle with two dots for eyes and and a smile for its mouth. The dog did not have any ears.

Alfred raised an eyebrow, his lips pursing as he tried not to smile at the drawing of a dog that did not, in fact, look like a dog.

"Nonsense, (____). It looks like a dog to me." Alfred responded, biting his lip slightly as he tried not to laugh.

"You-You're lying, you're smiling!" You whined, pointing a finger at Alfred accusingly.

"I-I am not, Master (____)-" a smile crept on Alfred's face, covering his mouth with a hand as he looked away.

"Yes you are!"

Yes he was.

The living room was filled with fits of laughter and childish giggles as you and Alfred spent the afternoon drawing weird looking animals, stick figures of you and Alfred at the park, and big flowers that actually looked like flowers.

It was a start, but it filled with Alfred with hope that maybe you would get better.

Alfred was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up as he took note that he had all his equipment for today's baked goods.

Measuring cups? Check. 2 large bowls? Check. Spatula? Check. Measuring spoons? Check. Muffin baking pan, baking cups, cooking spray...

While Alfred was making sure he had everything he needed, he couldn't help but notice small movements in the corner of his eye.

He turned around only to see your tiny hands grabbing at the edge of the table, up in your tippy toes in an attempt to climb onto it since the chairs were too big for you to sit on.

He would have to order smaller chairs later...

"Master (____), why are you trying to get on the table?" Alfred asked with a raised brow, his hands reaching down and picking you up by under your arms.

"I wanted to see!" You said, squirming in his grasp and trying to look over his shoulder to see what was so important that he was standing there in silence.

"I am making sure I have everything I need for blueberry muffins." Alfred explained, gesturing to the equipment as well as the ingredients he had on the kitchen counter.

"You're making muffins?" You asked, your big eyes staring up at him.

Alfred knew that look on your face, you wanted to eat the muffins once he was done making them.

He could see the way you kept looking at the equipment and ingredients on the table, a look of interest on your face.

Did you want to bake? Sensing a rare opportunity to teach you something new you seemed interested in, he quickly took it. "How about this, Master (____). If you help me make the blueberry muffins, I'll let you have some. How does that sound?" Alfred offered, setting you down gently on the tall chairs; bringing the ingredients and equipment to the table in favor of the table counter.

You nodded reluctantly, letting out a small huff. He couldn't keep those muffins from you!

"Here, can you spray oil in this baking tray? It's important that the muffins don't stick to top of the pan as they rise." Alfred explains, handing you a can of oil spray.

It seemed like an easier task than trying to get you to measure the flour, he was confident that your little arms wouldn't be able to hold up the bag of flour and you'd make a mess of the table.

Alfred carefully poured One and a half cups of flour into a measuring cup, he could hear you shaking the can vigorously and glanced over to see you spraying the oil into the muffin tray and around the top of it with both hands.

Relieved he made the correct choice, he focused on measuring the sugar next before he heard you shaking the can again and looked over to see you staring up at him with a mischiveous gleam.

Alfred didn't have time to question you before you sprayed him with oil.

Fortunately, he was wearing an apron that mostly took the brunt of the cooking oil. His right hand did have oil on it now, though.

He looked down at you as you let out a childish laugh, clutching the can of oil spray to your chest as you let out fits of laughter.

He wasn't very impressed, but it was hard for him to get mad. He hadn't seen you laugh like that in quite a while.

"That is enough of spraying from you, little one." He said firmly albeit without any real bite, gently taking the can away from your grasp.

He knew you didn't mean any real harm, it was just dumb kid's stuff.

he was glad you started becoming more playful and more willing to leave your bedroom.

He was happy you were improving.

You helped alfred whisk vegetable oil, eggs and milk together as well as lemon zest albeit with his steady hands keeping the bowl from slipping out of your grasp.

He would then add the mixutre to the flour, sugar as well as baking powder and salt, folding it in and then adding in the frozen blueberries.

He folded them in, making sure to not overmix the mixture and putting the mixture into the baking cups you had added into the muffin pan prior while you watched with curious eyes.

He would then put it into the oven and you cheered, clapping your hands together.

Alfred could feel his chest swell with affection, you deserved the world and so much more.

You ended up eating muffins with Alfred that day, they were tasty and you wanted to try baking again sometime.

You colored in the lines of a coloring book as best as you could with a yellow marker, occasionally glancing up at the TV in the living room as you laid belly first on the fluffy carpet.

You had the remote right next to you.

You had turned on the TV and flipped through the channels before finding one that interested you, ballet.

You had seen ballet dancers on TV before, but you had recently gained an interest in them. The ballet dancers on TV were so beautiful, the women would twirl flawlessly and moved with such grace that shouldn't be possible but it was. It was an you wanted to do what they could do. They were special, and you wanted to be special, too.

You just... Were a bit scared to go to ballet classes right now, with other kids.

You wanted to ask Alfred if you could maybe have a private teacher or something. You didn't know how to interact with other kids and didn't want to get hurt again if you made them angry.

Shaking your head, your thoughts drifted to today.

Today was a special day, too.

It was your birthday. You were turning four years old today! You hadn't seen Alfred all day since you woke up, you hoped he was planning some sort of surprise.

Your attention from your drawing of the ballet dancers that looked more like stick figures than anything as the screen changed to some news channel.

You looked up at the screen, confusion in your eyes.

This hasn't happened before, ever.

What was the occasion? You could see a young news reporter in a white suit, he looked into the camera with terrified hazel eyes.

Or maybe who was behind it.

"Is this thing on? Harley, make sure it's on!" A voice yelled, you swore you could hear a "Yes, Puddin'!" in the background.

A man dressed in a purple suit with green hair and very, very pale skin sauntered up behind the table where the reporter was, clearing his throat "Hello, people of gotham! I know that not many of you yet have heard of me but trust me when I say, you will." The man spoke with confidence in his tone, puffing out his chest slightly.

He held a mallet in his hand, tossing it around in both hands occasionally like child's play and whistling.

He looked like a clown.

There was something wrong with him.

"I am the Joker. You may know for poisoning the water supply here and there, fighting Batman in public every once in a while..." He trailed off, looking off towards the terrified news reporter with a deranged smile.

You just noticed that he was cuffed to his seat, trying to pull his wirsts out of the metal cuffs to no avail.

"While I do enjoy the publicity on the back of news papers for these last few years, it's frankly quite insulting." he sneered, his smile twitching as he turned to meet the reporters gaze.

"Tell me, dear citizen. What do you think of me?" You could see the clown's hands twitch while holding the mallet.

"I-I-" The man couldn't speak, he was sweating heavily and was gasping for air as he tried desperately to pull his wrists through the cuffs to the point his wrists began to bruise and bleed.

"I th-think-" He didn't even get to finish his sentence before the Joker raised the mallet up into the air and smashed his face in with a deafening crack you would never forget.

Blood splattered across the table, the back of the seat that the reporter was in and on the mallet.

A choked gurgle escaped the man, somehow still alive with his head dented in by the mallet before Joker swung again; this time causing his brain to splatter against the back of the wall, his skull shattering under the weight of the impact and crunch as his head was caved in,leaving the bottom of his chin the only thing somewhat intact.

Your wide eyes watched, taking in the blood, the brain matter and how much red and pink there was.

You could only watch as the Joker struggled to pull out the mallet from the man's dented in skull, finally pulling it out with a heave and ripping part of the top of his spinal cord out in the process with a wet squelch and causing tiny skull fragments to fly on the table, the floor and on the cadaver's lap.

You weren't focusing on what the Joker was saying at this point if he said anything at all or laughed hysterically that he killed a man on live television: You were focused on how the crimson liquid dripped down the table, how the pink mush slid down the wall and how dark the colors were.

Your hands tapped on the carpet around you before grabbing the remote and turning off the TV, staring down at your drawing blankly.

You picked up a red and pink marker and started to color in a new drawing.

It was the only color you could think of right now.

You couldn't get it out of your head.

Alfred would burst into the room minutes later, worry and fear on his face as he had rushed into the living room. "(____), you didn't have the TV on, did you?" He asked with thinly veiled concern, quickly scooping you up into his arms. "No Alfy. I wasn't watch-watching TV." You said calmly, burying your face into his neck.

You didn't want to make Alfred unhappy by saying you did, you just...

Couldn't risk getting hurt again.

You could hear Alfred let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Good, I think It is time I showed you something Master (____). I want you to close your eyes, alright?"

"Okay."

Alfred walked out of the living room with you in his arms, not noticing how the drawing hidden under another that was of a stickfigure in a purple suit hitting another stickfigure with what looked like a big hammer and the pink and red scirbbled over the mallet, a poorly drawn table and the man's face.

NEW CHARACTERS!

The Joker

-There's no good in him, What does Bruce see in YOU?

Harley Quinn

-Psychotic bitch, just another accomplice. Just as bad as him.

Relationship status!

Bruce Wayne (your father): -5/100

-You haven't seen him in months.

-You wished he stopped that evil man in time.

-Failure.

Alfred Pennyworth (Your only friend): 95/100

-You only need him. No one else.

-You feel bad about lying to him

Richard Grayson (The one you fear): -30/100

-You've avoided him for months and haven't seen him, but he still haunts your dreams.

Taglist!

@the-dumber-scaramouche @sirenetheblogger @bellethesleepypotato @mev-fizzah-writes @tsxukikami @shycreatorreview @redsakura101 @feral-childs-word @lexi-username-1 @vanessa-boo @schnuggelig-schnecken-schnurrt @sleeping-l0s3rs @simpingpandas @vanilliona @shycreationdreamland @uu-uuu @crazycookies73307 @chericia @jellystar-star @sillysealsies @hopingtocleaemedschool @sukaretto-n @cantfindmelol @sunshinepower17 @ryuushou @kore-of-the-underworld @bongwaterflavoredgatorade @mxvoid26

A/N: Soooooo, that's the bad unavoidable experience. You don't catch any breaks do you? I never did say the experience would be caused by the family. The unavoidable is infact a direct consequence of choosing hobbies that are mostly done indoors. If one more hobby was an outdoor one this would have been avoided since you wouldn't be watching TV at the time. How you feeling about this? The taglist took a bit to write in which is why this is semi later than what I posted. If I didn't tag you I'm sorry, it took like 20-25 minutes to tag everyone. ALSO! ballet is going to be learned in chapter 5. You kinda aren't going to in chapter 4 cause of uhhhhhh well what happened above.

#batfam x batsis #batfam x neglected reader #neglected reader #yandere batfam #batfam #batsis!reader #It gets worse before it gets even more worse-

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morthstaar · 8 months ago

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Please, PLEASE Tulpar crew x a very shy/introverted reader who is like crushing on the crew really hard but way too shy and embarrassed to tell them but like the crew starts to slowly catch on to them and the way they act different around them. Also I don't mean the crew as a whole I mean the separate characters 😭🙏🏽

ask and u shall receive 😈

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OH GOD, YOU CAN TELL?

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Captain Curly

-oh.. curly knew from the moment you laid eyes on him that you had the biggest crush on him.

-there is no slow realization.

-not at all oblivious to it.

-everytime your eyes would seemingly uncontrollably and totally unconsciously drift to him he would try to meet your gaze with a friendly, boyish smirk.

-does that happen? HELL NAH. you are much too shy to even look the captain in the eye.

-your little heart almost beats out of your chest at any interaction. little or big.

-"Hey, just the person I needed to see. I have a little favor to ask you."

-oh god. suddenly words seem hard to pronounce and the entirety of the english language is no where to be seen.

-after a few weeks, curly would definitely find this endearing.

-i feel like since curly is so outgoing, he would be very intrigued by someone who is the complete opposite.

-curly wouldn't act much different when it comes to you, due to maintaining professionalism as his role as captain.

-he may due small acts like making a cake simply to indulge in your sweet-tooth that he somehow knew about you.

-"oh, we just had extra packets of sugar. i just thought id bake something. you like cake right?"

-cheeky motherfucker.

Intern Daisuke

-dude is so so so oblivious even though you make it perfectly clear...

-you could be making like.. making out with the guy and he'd be like,

-"yoo, we are literally besties right?"

-deadass, he prolly had no idea you liked him for weeks.

-you could be laughing extra loud at his jokes then realize ur laughing too loud, look at him while he isn't looking at you, sneak an extra sweetener packet on his bed when he isn't around,,,,

-his ass still is clueless.

-it takes either curly or swansea's help to realize that you had a massive crush on him but were just to shy to say something.

-once he realizes, he is now all over you and following you around like a lost puppy. not nonchalant at ALL.

-literally tries to pick up the polle statue to show his 'guns' but the statue moves only an inch..

-now he is hyper aware of your actions and reactions, he finds your shyness just SO CUTE WTFFF.

-compliments you to see what you would do.

-"man, have you always been this hot or is it just the sweetener talking?"

-runs away.....

-would steal sweetener packets just for you two to share :)

Nurse Anya

-i feel like she notices how different you act around her, but she just thinks its because you two are good friends.

-she never assumes anything, just her friend being friendly.

-even though you sometimes make it unintentionally obvious..

-like this one time you recommend her a book from your quarters library and her fingers lightly grazed yours reaching for it.

-oh shit. her soft hands touched yours. oh god what does a normal person do in this situation??

-"thank you for the-oh... book."

-well, they don't smile awkwardly, sweat pouring down their face and leave in a hurry with the book still in their hand.

-anya isn't stupid or completely oblivious by any means. she definitely knew from this encounter of your little crush on her.

-she is quite flattered honestly. someone so similar to her truly likes her?

-when she fully processes this information, she is very subtle with how she shows her affection back.

-during check-ups, she sometimes gives you a treat from one of her desk drawers for being a good patient.

-other times she lets you join her late at night in the lounge to just look at the pretty night time screen.

-"this makes me miss home. it's so beautiful."

-you'd look over at her and her eyes are not on the screen, far from it actually.

-her eyes are on you.

-so this is what a heart attack feels like..

Mechanic Swansea

-unpopular hot-take, swansea is actually a dilf and he often has younger men/women confess their feelings to him.

-so because of that headcanon, swansea definitely knows how you feel from the first time y'all met.

-your eyes would subconsciously peek at his open shirt revealing his chest. suspiciously, whenever he would look back, you quickly turn away shyly...

-he immediately thinks he is way to old for this shit. he just got out of a divorce and prolly never wanted to try again. especially with someone younger.

-"what is with this damn younger generation with old people.."

-he tries to avoid you even though you two are co-workers and.. work together. on the same ship.

-as weeks go by, your shyness starts to grow on this grumpy man. he... he thinks it's endearing in a sense..

-he rather likes how reserved you are, and how are aren't as loudmouthed as daisuke.

-he won't act much different to you, but according to the rest of the crew it is obvious.

-swansea leaves little sticky notes reminding you to eat or sleep because lets be honest.. you are quite neglectful, and the sticky note quotes,,

-"..the crew doesn't need you passin' out while doin' your job. so eat or i will make you."

-swansea is also much more soft-spoken with you than anyone else.

-he has never raised his voice or spoken down on you. his usual brashness and snarky remarks are now toned down (but not entirely) around you.

-"hey. i didn't say you had to leave, did i? stop puttin' words in my damn mouth and sit."

Co-captain Jimmy

-jimmy prolly doesn't even acknowledge you at first.

-you could be looking at him, thinking he doesn't know that your eyes are skimming over his face and body.

-oh but jimmy.. he does know,,, but he never shows that he does.

-he likes the attention on him. your eyes looking him over when she doesn't even know that he is soaking it up.

-im sorry but he definitely gets off to the fact that you are shy and get flustered easily.

-he loves how malleable and submissive you are due to your shyness. and he uses it to his advantage.

-he shows his affection strongly after he knows your crush.like sometimes he would purposefully follow you places and when you turn around he'd be like..

-"do you mind? you're in my way.."

-i feel like he wouldn't know how to properly express his feelings so he would be kind of unnecessarily mean and cruel.

-and after he would be mean he would be nice and extra affectionate so you would still like him.

-like you could be working on something and is critical about your work.

-"are you serious? tsk.. move, since you clearly cannot perform a basic task."

-then later he's like..

-"im glad someone on this ship is helpful, like you."

-basically, he purposefully plays with your feelings to get you to confess bc i feel like he likes when women come to him.....

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing x reader #swansea x reader #swansea mouthwashing #daisuke x reader #daisuke mouthwashing #anya x reader #anya mouthwashing #curly x reader #curly mouthwashing #jimmy x reader #jimmy mouthwashing

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suiana · 1 year ago

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✎ yandere! criminal who is helplessly in love with you, devoting his life to you and keeping your affections solely on him, and him only.

✎ yandere! criminal who can't help but flirt with you despite being so beaten up. i mean you're just so cute! why wouldn't he flirt?

✎ yandere! criminal who always reminds you that he has the upperhand no matter what his condition is like. he likes playing dirty.

✎ yandere! criminal who commits even more crimes after seeing you talk with someone who isn't him. doctor, you just never learn, do you?

"remember doctor, you may be smarter, but i always have the upperhand."

the criminal mutters, smirking as he leans into your touch. you merely click your tongue, grimacing at the his antics before going back to tending to his injuries.

you were his doctor, illegally caring for one of the most wanted criminals in the country simply because he was once your childhood friend. you knew it was wrong, you knew you should have rejected him the second he came stumbling to your apartment one day with a bloody wound.

but you didn't. you took him in and treated his injury, nursed him back to health and even offered your place as refuge if he ever needed medical attention again.

unfortunately, you failed to realise that the man was crazy in love with you, infatuated to such an extent that he would harm others without a second thought.

"please, you must understand, i've only ever wanted you to love me and not some other bastard. if you didn't talk to him i wouldn't have needed to hurt that guy."

he mutters, looking at you with such a fond expression that you would've mistaken for love. you really didn't know how to respond to his affections. after all, he was your childhood friend turned criminal. things would be even worse for you if you reciprocated him.

so you did the best thing possible and just ignored him whenever he went off on another tangent of his delusional rambles. you daren't speak up and reject him again. oh no, it happened once and you didn't want it to happen again.

"you look so sexy when you ignore me."

the criminal coos, placing his hand over yours as he brings it to his cheek. you uncomfortably maintain eye contact with him, grimacing as you allow him to mutter and talk about his love. it's okay... just tolerate it...

"oh baby, don't you get it? everything i do is for you."

yeah, you know. he tells you all the time. bout how all his crimes are dedicated for you or done in your name. of course he never says it to the public, he doesn't want you to get jailed! though, he can't help but fantasize about how romantic it would be if you two were both wanted criminals on the run together.

"why must you torment me like this? all i've ever wanted was for you to love me back."

he sighs, not noticing your pursed lips or obvious discomfort.

"never smile for anyone else. only i should have the honour of seeing it. all those other fools will never worship you the way you should be worshipped."

you can't help but twitch at his words. ugh, he always preaches about worshipping you and stuff. it's so... is he mentally insane too?

you get the love part, but the worshipping? you won't be surprised if he prays to you when he's on the brink of his death.

"no one gets me like you. that's why i love you so much."

your childhood friend mutters, finally letting go of your hand after pressing a tender kiss to the inside of your wrist. you allow your hand to limp by your side, standing like an npc as you continue to stare at him as he continues his dramatic talk.

you never knew he yapped so much before. when he was younger he was more introverted, more silent and just clingy. now he can't shut up. or maybe that's just around you.

you continue to listen to the male yapping, not really processing his words. hopefully it'll be over soon... but your hopes were crushed as you freeze in place, eyes widening in horror as he smiles widely at you, eyes fully deranged as he suddenly brings your hands to his cheeks, forcing your cold hands to cradle his cheeks.

"i mean, don't you love me too?"

shit, how do you answer this without meeting a bad fate?

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere concept #yandere imagines #yandere criminal #yandere criminal x reader #gn reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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sanjisleggy · 7 months ago

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the warlord’s wife (dracule mihawk x reader)

req: Oh if you want to you should do a Mihawk x reader (fem or gn) that's hurt comfort where the reader is like the exact opposite of him. Like she is usually so happy and sweet and kind. And something happens and maybe she starts to worry that she is too much for Mihawk because he is just someone who is quiet and to himself all the time and she thinks she is constantly bothering him

a/n: ahhh my first attempt at writing for Mihawk! a much shorter fic compared to my others but i hope you guys like it nonetheless :3c i’d love to write longer fics for him if anyone has any ideas yippee

contents: rude people (lol), insecure!fem!reader, simp!Mihawk, a tiny bit of angst, some hurt/comfort, fluff :3c

wc. 1k

wanna be on my taglist?

—

standing outside the large ornate doors, you feel your face burn with embarrassment as you contemplate simply going to the docks to wait out by the hitsugibune until the gala ends. as tempting as escaping from the horrific social situation sounds right now, your pride refuses to let you bow your head in defeat.

”i don’t know how else to convince you,” you try to appeal to the two marines standing guard outside the venue entrance once more, “if you could just ask him to verify my identity—”

”i’m sorry, miss,” the larger man of the two cuts you off with a less than apologetic look. “there’s just no reason why we should do as you say. if we listened to every man or woman demanding to go in, we’d lose our heads.”

your indignance and frustration quickly bubbles into pure anger and for a brief moment you lament having left your katana back at the castle. you bite your tongue, unable to think of any other way to convince the marine officers that you are, indeed, a guest who’d been invited to the gala because you’re literally one of the Warlords’ wives.

“besides,” the other officer chips in unprompted, “no offence but you don’t seem like the type of woman someone like Dracule Mihawk would marry.” his partner fails to hold back a scoff but quickly attempts to return his expression back into one of neutral professionalism.

clenching your fists by your sides, you try your very hardest to keep your eyes from tearing up for the second time tonight. normally such a comment wouldn’t phase you—years of being Mihawk’s partner has done wonders for thickening your skin—right now, though, you can’t help but feel a familiar sharp stinging sensation pierce through your chest.

of all the snarky comments you marine dogs decide to make, why this one?

ii.

it had only been an hour into the gala and already you regretted begging your husband, just weeks prior, to consider attending with you as his guest. the event was a grand one held by the marines every year to “show their appreciation” towards their allies, which included the Seven Warlords; and every year the invite would show up at your doorstep only to be promptly thrown out by your introverted husband.

”can we please go? i miss going for social events like these.” you’d pleaded that night in bed, hugging his arm tightly as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck—a move he liked to call ‘playing dirty. “just this once to see what it’s like, then i’ll never ask again.”

both you and Mihawk knew it was a lie but the swordsman was nothing if not a simp for you so he begrudgingly agreed.

”care to elaborate why?” you challenge, taking the two marines aback if their surprised expressions are anything to go by. clearly not used to ‘civilians’ talking back to them, they take a moment to gather their thoughts—and at least have enough decency to look embarrassed at being called out.

”w-well—”

“your wife is such a chatterbox! it’s a wonder you’ve tolerated her for as long as you have!”

”your husband is whom? forgive me, i find that hard to believe.”

”i thought he was some kind of recluse?”

”maybe it was an arranged marriage. how scandalous.”

”i pity the poor man. all my husband does is talk and it drives me insane some days.”

”darling?” a deep familiar voice calls out from behind you, accompanied by the sound of heeled shoes clicking against stone. before you can turn around, you feel his warm hand rest itself on your shoulder, the comforting heat of his body engulfing you from behind. “i’ve been looking for you.”

the blood drains from both the marine officers’ faces, their eyes widening in shock as it dawns on them what a mistake they’ve just made. as though pleading for mercy, the eyes of the larger man flickers in your direction, almost screaming: “please, i’m too young to die.”

”were these men giving you trouble?” Mihawk probes gently, using his other hand to tilt your head in his direction. the moment his eyes meet your own and widen ever so slightly, you know there’s no point lying. as much as you’ve been able to hold back your tears of frustration well enough to fool the average man, your husband is anything but average.

mouths still agape, the marine officers can do nothing but watch as the notorious swordsman proceeds to cup your face with his right hand in a manner so tender they can’t help but suspect he’s an imposter. unbothered by the unbelieving stares sent his way, Mihawk brushes his thumb under your eye as though to confirm his suspicion.

”they were but it’s okay now,” you finally reply, placing your hand over his to hold it in place as you relish in the comforting warmth of his palm.

”what did you do to my wife?” he disregards your subtle plea for peacemaking. he knows you well enough to infer that you simply don’t want him to make a scene for the sake of maintaining his public image.

Mihawk’s aware of how much you actually enjoy silently watching him defend your pride and honour; and he also knows from experience how happily you’ll reward him with your honeyed words and sweet touches later tonight, when it’s just the two of you alone together. it concerns him, slightly, if he were to be honest, how easily you have him wrapped around your finger—but that’s something to think about another day.

the marines stutter and stammer but nothing coherent leaves their lips, all linguistic ability fading into nothing under the angered gaze of the Warlord.

”be thankful my beloved is as kind as she is,” the swordsman warns, all the while maintaining his hardened glare. “know that had she not vouched for you two, i’d have no problem killing you right where you stand.”

—

taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x yn #one piece x you #op x reader #op #fanfic #imagine #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort

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rooster-the-love-of-my-life · 1 month ago

Text

Idiots At a Wedding pt2

Summary: Pretending to be Bob's girlfriend in front of his family has tk be easy right? Right...??

Pairings: Bob Floyd x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of family trauma, crying, kissing, Bob

A/N: omggg you guysss!!!!!! You're the absolute best, o wasn't expecting to get so uchlove from all of you, so.than you very very much much for this. Also I'm very sorry if anyone of you hasn't been tagged, I've been trying to tag yall but I can only have 50 tags per post, so I'll have to find a different way to tag you all. If any of you know how please do tell me, I could really use your help. Anywhoo, enjoy reading and don't be a stranger.💞💞

series masterlist || part 3

After spending an hour trying to make yourselves look presentable, you and Bob made your way downstairs to the party. The house was already packed with people, and more were yet to come. As soon as you reached the last step, Bob was whisked away by Mary and Jeff, leaving you standing alone in a corner.

"Ah, there you are." Annies sweet voice flooded your ears. "Where's Bob? He left you all alone already? I swear that boy need a lesson in how to treat a lady."

"It's fine." You replied. "He wouldn't have left me alone if he didn't know I could handle myself in a room full of strangers."

"Oh, I see you're one of us." She nodded cryptically. "I always knew he would go for someone like you."

"What does that mean?" You asked.

"What my dear sister means to say is, you're an extrovert too. Just like the rest of the Floyd family." Another sweet voice broke into your conversation. Looking at where it came from, you found it belonged to a young woman, who had now slung one of her hands on Annies shoulders and was leaning against her. "Robby's the only one of us who's an introvert, for a moment we all thought he was adopted, but alas, that quite shy boy is all ours. I'm Lucy."

"Ah, the bride to be. Congratulations." It all clicked finally as she engulfed you in a classic Floyd hug as well.

"You're even prettier than I expected." She said, as Annie agreed with her loudly.

"Oh please, have you two seen yourself." You chucked, slowly becoming red. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but what did you mean by he would go for someone like me?"

Both the blonde sisters shared a knowing look with each other before Lucy explained. "Bob is the quiet one of the family, as you may have noticed. He was the one who stayed inside and read a book while the rest of us played football or did some loud thing. We always knew he needed someone to bring him out his shell, someone like you."

"And from what I've seen till now, he seems to be really comfortable with you. More than with anyonelse else." Annie finished, both looking smug.

If you weren't blushing before, you sure were now. You knew how different you and Bob were, anyone with functioning eyes did. But you had no idea you had any sort of effect on him. Maybe you two really were great actors. If so, this performance alone was enough to earn you an academy award.

The night continued, you stuck around with Annie who showed you around the house and introduced you to everyone all the while asking you about your work and the navy. After a few hours, when it was nearing dinner, Bob finally found you.

"Hello ladies." He said, walking up from behind you, casually planting a hand on your waist, catching you off guard. "Hope my sisters aren't annoying you darling."

Darling? Where did that come from? Regardless, your heart did back flips upon hear the nickname slip so casually from his mouth.

"Oh not at all." You replied, looking up at him. "In fact they've kept me really entertained with all your childhood stories."

"Oh dear lord no." He groaned loudy, his head falling down and landing in the nape of your neck. "Why do yall hate me?"

"What kind of sisters would we be if we didn't tell her about all the times you've peed yourself as a child?" Lucy teased.

"The nice kind." Bob mumbled, lifting his head a little but still keeping his chin resting on your shoulder. "But don't you both worry about anything. I'll tell her every embarrassing thing about yall before going to sleep tonight."

"Is that your idea of pillow talk Robby?" Annie joked, instantly making her younger brother regret saying what he said. "If so, I must say I am very disappointed."

"Now, now kids." You jumped in, knowing how flushed the man behind you must have gotten. "Be nice, I've got all week to see you three fight. Don't ruin the show just yet."

All four of you shared a laugh, when Mary called everyone for dinner. The entire party filled into the big dining room where homemade food was spread out on the table.

"Bobby, I might just kiss your mother." You whispered, mouth salivating at the sight of good home cooked food. The navy had it perks, but good food was not one of them.

"Be my guest." He chuckled. "But just beware, she might never let you leave."

You were about to say something else before you were interrupted by Mary clearing her throat.

"As most of you might know, today's the first day of the wedding celebration for our dear Lucy and Peter. And as out family tradition says, the newest couple in the room has to share a kiss. So come on yall." She finished, as both you and Bob looked around the room to see which couple was going to be the one kissing.

All the while, the entire room had turned towards the two of you and was watching you expectantly. It took a while for you two idiots to realise just who Mary was talking about, and as soon as you did, Bob quickly spoke up in defense.

"What? Ma. Come on, it's Lu's wedding."

"Yes, but Peter and I have been together for three years. You two have been together for only six months." She replied quickly, smirking.

"But-"

"No no, no ifs, no buts." One of Bob's many aunts jumped in. "Tradition is tradition, honey. Now come on, give your girl a kiss."

While Bob was trying to get you two out of this situation, you were stood next to him absolutely frozen. You had agreed that you might have to kiss and show a little affection out in public, but you didn't think it would be so soon. Even though Bob put up a tough fight, he couldn't put off his family.

He leaned down to your height, and slowly planted a soft kiss on you cheek, earning groans from everyone.

"Come on man." Someone shouted. "You kiss grandma Ruth better than that."

"Yeah Robby, I wouldn't be shocked if she left you for kissing her like a teenager." Someone else shouted as the whole room erupted in loud laughter.

Turning your head to your left, you were met with Bob's crimson face. Through all the howling and laughter, all you could think of was how horrible this must be for him. He never liked being the center of attention, ever. So having about fifty people urging him to kiss you might just be his worst nightmare.

Without a second thought, you placed your right hand on his left cheek and turned his head towards you. You took a step closer and got up on your tiptoes to reach him. Slowly, you leaned in with closed eyes until your lips landed on his. Bob was caught off guard for a mili second, but he quickly put his hands on you hips and brought you in closer, engulfing your mouth with his own.

From the moment your lips touched, you felt as if your whole body was on fire. You had done many things that pumped adrenalin through your body, heck you flew plane for a living. But none of it even came close to what you felt upon kissing Bob Floyd.

Bob kept pulling you in closer, as if he was afraid he would wake up from a dream if he let you go. But when he head the loud hooting around him, he finally came back to his sense and realized he was standing in the middle of a dining room and not alone with you. Though it did feel like it from the moment you touched his cheek.

You two pulled away, breathing heavily, yet still holding on to each other. You were just about to pull away completely when Bob learned in and gave you a short sweet kiss, making your heart leap right out of your chest.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Someone exclaimed over all the commotion. Your entire face was red and you were breathing heavily, staring right at the ground as Mary urged everyone to take their dinner.

Next to you, Bob was sure he had died and your kiss was what had greeted him into heaven. But neither of you had time to even look at each other before plates were thrust into your hand and food into your plates.

--------------------------------

The bedroom was awkward to say the least. After dinner, which seemed to stretch out for an eternity, you finally trudged back into Bob's childhood bedroom, silent and red faced, both thinking about the same thing.

You slipped into the bathroom to get ready for bed and to get your giddy heart to stop beating so fast while Bob changed his clothes outside, reminding himself it was all just for show. All it'll ever be.

By the time you came out, he had already slipped under the covers and turned off the lights. Due to the lack of light, and your clumsiness, you bumped your foot into one of the dressers hard.

"Ow." You whispered, bending over because of the pain, cradling that foot while hoping on the other to keep standing stright.

"You okay?" Bob asked, voice gruff, followed by the rustling of sheets.

"I'm gonna need your help navigating the room Bobby." You whispered, trying to hide the pain in your voice.

"Oh shit sorry." He mumbled, turning on his bedside lamp. "I forgot it's your first time here."

"It's alright." You limped over to the bed and sat down, still cradling your hurt foot.

"Does it hurt too much? Should I get ice?" Bob fussed, serious faced, as you turned around to look at him, and boy was he a sight for sore eyes. His hair was messy, the kind of messy you wanted to run your hands through and mess up more. He wasn't wearing his glasses, sleep was evident in his eyes and his muscular torso was on full display.

Another thing learned about sweet, mysterious Bobby. You thought to yourself, trying not to blush to hard at the sight of him.

"I'm fine Bob, it's just a stubbed toe. I'll survive." You said, noticing how his expression hadn't changed. "And if I don't, I have you to nurse me back to life."

"That you do." He chuckled.

"There he is." You said, getting into bed as well. "Thought I'd lost you for a second."

"I was just worried." He replied, sliding in as well, laying face to face with you.

"You fuss over the stubbed toes of all your friends or am I just special?" You joked.

"You're just special." He answered without skipping a beat. You two laid in silence for a few moments, lost deep into each other eyes. But the big yawn that left your mouth ruined the moment.

"Go to sleep." Bob smiled at your scrunched up face, extending his arm to turn the soft yellow light off. "I'll see you in the moring."

"See you in the morning Bobby." You whispered through another yawn.

"Night sweetheart."

------------------------

Morning came quicker than you wanted it to. Sunlight poured through the windows and the shrill chirping of birds took over, as you moved your blanket up over you head and turned the other way in an attempt to block out the sunlight. You were expecting, half hoping, Bob would still be sleeping next to you, but all you found when you stretched your hand was an empty bed. His side of the bed was already made, with his blanket neatly folded.

Of course he made his bed as soon as he got up, you thought, learning another thing about him.

You were in half a mood to stay in bed for a bit longer and laze around, but the smell of fresh pancakes mixed with the sound of laughter got you up on your feet within a second. You quickly got dressed and headed downstairs, where you were greeted by the Floyd family already enjoying breakfast.

Annie was sitting at the table laughing at something Lucy had said, with Andy playing in her lap. Mary was over by the stove, flipping pancakes with military precision along with Jeff who was cooking the bacon. And then there was Bob, who was standing at the end of the counter, pouring everyone orange juice in mismatched cups. His hair was sweaty, face flushed, glasses foggy, like he'd just come back from a run.

"Morning." You said loudly, announcing yourself. Everyone's head turned to you and a chorus of 'good morning' rang through the room. "I see you're still keeping up with your runs." You commented, walking closer to Bob.

"Can't give Hondo the pleasure of thinking I've gotten slow, now can I?" Bob replied, laser focused on pouring the juice.

"Right, throw me under the buss, why don't you. I won't be supried if I can't run a meter after eating your mom's food." You sighed, thinking about the delicious meal you had last night and the one you were about to have now. "Mary, you have magic in your hands, pure magic."

"Well thank you darling." She said, picking up the plates with the pancakes and heading towards the table. "At least someone here appreciates my cooking."

"Oh come on ma, we've been having your food for ages." Lucy argued.

"That doesn't mean you can't compliment a woman once in a while." Mary looked at her children with a pointed, teasing look.

"Don't worry marmie, as long as I'm here, you'll always have someone to compliment your cooking." Jeff chimed in, placing the bacon on the table and then placing a soft kiss on Mary's cheeks, the same way he would with his mother's.

Your heart melted upon seeing this. The way they all had accepted someone new into their family, loved him like their own. You could only hope you would get this in your life.

"That makes two." You added, smiling at the matriarch who returned it with the same vigor. "You need some help?" You asked Bob, who was finished with his task.

"If you won't mind." He replied, looking down at all the cups there were to carry. Without wasting another second, you both jumped into action. A minute later, all of your were seated on the table as plates of food were being passed.

Once everyone was settled in and already gulfing down the breakfast, Mary spoke up, breaking the silence.

"You know, I never asked how you two met?"

You head snapped up instantly, as did Bob's. There was a slight excitement in his eyes, the kind that comes when you see a question you already know the answer of in a test.

"Well we both-" Bob started, but was stopped by Lucy.

"I want to hear it from her." She said, looking at you intently. "Women always know how to tell a story, with exact timelines. Men don't."

"Well," You stared, placing your cutlery down gently in your plate. "We were both assigned to the same special task force a year ago. After the mission we were all asked to stay back, and that's when we got together."

"Oh my god, you're even worse than him." Lucy groaned.

"Come on, give us something more. We can't live on breadcrumbs." Annied chimed in.

"Details, dearie, details. Give us the details, tell us what you thought of our Robby when you first met him." Mary urged you, after your vague reply.

"Okay, um. I first saw him at the bar where the whole squad generally hangs out, the hard deck." You started, smiling fondly at the memory of that night. "He was sitting in a corner, drinking ginger ale and eating peanuts, while everyone else was playing pool. I was a little late-"

"As always." Bob added, giving you a teasing smile.

"Only five minutes late." You corrected, rolling your eyes playfully. "I didn't see him at first-"

"Cayse you were busy arguing with Hangman." He butted in again. "A usual occurrence."

"Will you let me continue?" You huffed, as Bob raised his hands in surrender, motioning your to go on. "When I finally did see him, he offered me his peanuts-"

"Which you took a handful of."

"Bob." All women on the table screamed.

"Sorry, sorry."

"And I've liked him ever since." You finished, knowing in your heart that the last part wasn't a lie.

"Aww, ain't the sweet." Mary gushed. "Now, tell me who asked who on a date?"

You shared a knowing look with Bob across the table and spoke before he got the chance to. "Mary, do you think your son would ever ask someone out first?"

The whole table erupted in fits of loud laughter, as Bob sank into his seat.

"You didn't ask her out?" The older woman gasped. "Why?"

"Why? Mama, have you seen her?" The answer slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. It was true of cousre, he was always afraid to talk to you cause of how pretty you looked at all times, but he never meant for it to come out like this.

"Our little Robby, smitten like a kitten." Lucy teased, pulling at her older brothers cheeks, who swatted her hands away.

"As cute as this may be, I still think it's wrong you didn't as her out." Mary voiced. "Your father taught you better than this."

"What do you want me to do now mama? Were already together." Bob replied.

"Ask her out." She suggested.

"Mary, that's completely unnecessary." You chimed in.

"Nonsense. My son should know better."

"Yeah Bob, ask her out." Annie nudged you slightly, a cheeky grin taking over her face.

"Ask her out Robert." Jeff was in support of the ladies as well, smirking wildly at his brother-in-law.

"Ask her out, ask her out." Lucy chanted childishly. Even baby Andy started babbling as if he was willing his uncle to do the same.

"Alright, fine, fine." Bob sighed and sat up straight in his seat. You were as red as a tomato by now, finally understanding what Bob had meant when he said his family was a little too much. He said your name softly, looking right into your eyes.

"Darling, will you be my girlfriend?"

"Happily."

---------------------

The rest of breakfast was a blur. Conversation flowed easy, love and warmth busted through the table and all you could think of was how fun it must have been growing up in such a family. A family who accepts you just the way you are, you didn't need to change, didn't need to be perfect to earn their love, all you had to be was theirs and they loved you. Oh, how you wished you had a family like that.

After breakfast was done, you were helping Lucy with the dishes all alone in the kitchen when she asked you your plans of the day. You were about to say it would be to do whatever was asked of you, but she had plans of her own for you.

"Well, whatever they are, cancle them." She announced, sitting up on the kitchen counter next to the dishwasher, where you were standing. "Cause I've decided to make you one of my bridesmades. Annie the made of honor, obviously. I was down one girl and one of Peters friends had to sit out, but not anymore now that Bob has got you into our lives."

"Oh Lucy, are you sure?" You asked, overwhelmed with how much this family had welcomed you. "It's your special day. I don't want you to feel obliged in any way to add me to your bridal party. I'd be more than happy to sit and watch the ceremony."

"Oh please, I might not have know you for too long, but I've grown really fond of you. Part of it cause I believe you truly are an amazing person. The other part is cause of how you are with Bob. I know he's my older brother and he's supposed to be the one looking out for me, but ever since we were young, it's always been the opposite. He's always been the quiet one, the easy target for most people, that's why we were all worried when he said he wanted to join the navy. None of thought he'd make it through basic training, but here he is. We all always knew he need someone soft, someone gentle, someone who could help him tune the world out whenever it got too loud or mean. And I'm glad he's found that in you."

You couldn't stop the tears from forming in your eyes as Lucy spoke. Bob's whole family cared so much for him, they never tried to change him or stop him from being who he was, they just protected him the best they could. And now they put their faith and trust in you to do the same, to love him gently and unconditionally. All of this made you feel extremely guilty for lying to them. Here they were, opening their home and hearts to you while you were deceiving them every chance you were getting.

"Oh Lucy." You whispered and slung you arms over her shoulder as she leaned down to hug you as well. "I'd be honored to be your bridesmade."

"Good." She laughed as she pulled away. You saw that tears had begun forming inher eyes as well. "Now, I'm gonna go stop crying cause I don't want my face to be all puffy all day."

With that and a squeeze on you shoulder, she was gone, leaving you alone, crying in the kitchen. Everything that was happening just reminded you of how different your family was, how conditional. The more you witnessed the love between the Floyd's, the more your ind was flushed with the bad memories of your own home.

Though your tears and the echos of your past, you didn't hear Bob descend the stairs and enter the room. He saw you leaned over the counter with eyes closes, sniffling softly and he immediately dropped the wet towel in his hands down on the floor and ran towards you.

"Hey, hey sunny, what's wrong?" He asked softly. He had never seen you cry before, he doubted anyone from the squad had, so this caught him completely off guard. "What happened? Did you get hurt? Did someone say something? Did I do something?"

"It's nothing Bob." You turned you head tbe other way, not wanting him to see you cry. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine, you're crying." He whispered, placing his fingers gently under your chin and turning your head towards his. "You can tell ne what's wrong sunny." He cupped your face and began wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

"I just really like your family Bob." Your voice cracked in the middle of the sentence as more tears spilled out of your eyes.

" Oh honey." He moved his hands from your cheeks to the back of your neck as he pulled you into a hug. This was the closest you had ever been to him, and a little part of you was cursing you for being this vulnerable during this time. The part raised by your father.

"I'm sorry, you're supposed to be enjoying with your family, not watching me cry." You pulled away, much to Bob's dismay. "I'm sorry, just forget this ever happened."

"You know you can tell me anything right sunny, anything at all. I'm all ears." He said, trying to look into your eyes but you kept your head down, not having the courage to meet his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Yeah, I know." You sipped your hands from his grasp and moved past him. "I'll tell you some other time."

You moved to the stairs quickly before Bob could say anything else. Evey muscle in his body was telling him to follow you, to demand to know what's wrong and help you fix it. But having grown up around women had taught him it was better to leave you be for the moment. Even though his heart was hurting, he had to give you space.

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winterswift · 1 month ago

Text

can we pretend?

pairing: bob reynolds x f! reader.

summary: when you asked bob to pretend to be your fake boyfriend, you had no idea you'd fall so hard for him.

word count: 4,4k.

tags: fake relationship, pining, this is sort of grumpy x sunshine, except that instead of grumpy, he is shy and introverted. he fell first AND harder, mentions of y/n, a lot of fluff, sentry makes his appearance (kind of).

—there are mentions of a man harassing the reader but nothing overly excessive.

a/n: english is not my first language so there might be grammatical mistakes. this took longer than i expected, but i'm happy with the end product. the fake relationship trope is one of my faves, and i was quite excited to use it in a Bob fic. i hope you like it :).

Bob couldn't help but observe you. He didn't intend to do it; he was meant to be reading, but the sound of your voice distracted him. There was a man nearby, possibly too close to be regarded proper.

You did not appear to be comfortable; your body was rigid and your eyes darted around in search of an escape. Every time he approached closer, you took a step back.

He understood how it felt because he felt the same way with practically everyone. But he wasn't used to seeing you like this; you used to be confident, a ray of sunshine whose demeanor didn't quite suit with the grim New Avengers. He didn't like seeing you like that, small and insecure, almost afraid.

He felt compelled to do something, but he wasn't the sort to harm, so he waited. When the man left and you breathed a sigh of relief, he continued his reading. He pretended he hadn't noticed your footsteps approaching.

“Bob!" you exclaimed. You were overjoyed to see him; normally, no one reacts that way when they meet him. Except for you. "I was looking for you."

You settle next to him with a huff, your cherry smell overwhelming his senses. He adored your perfume but would never express it aloud. "I need to ask you a favor," you said, blushing as if embarrassed.

"What can I do for you?" he inquired, anticipating that you would want a book, as you occasionally did.

"I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend." He almost didn't understand you because you spoke so fast. He gazed at you with wide eyes.

"What?"

"Please!" you begged, anxiously. "I'd do anything for you. I will buy you anything you want, but please say yes."

He wasn't sure it was a good idea; he wasn't exactly boyfriend material, but seeing your eyes almost to tears, he couldn't turn you down. Not if you looked at him like that.

"F-fine," he agreed, hesitantly.

You let out an enthusiastic giggle and threw yourself into his arms with such vigor that you nearly knocked him off the couch. He gave you a few pats on the back before pulling away.

He wasn't used to that type of affection, especially after what had taken place in New York, but that was just how you were, warm and dazzling. You didn't appear concerned that he would use his powers on you.

"Thank you so much, seriously, it means a lot to me," you stammered. "It's just for a couple of days, until that guy stops bothering me. I've told him several times that I don't want to go out with him, but he will not take no for an answer. I'm desperate.”

He was enraged at the thought of someone making you uncomfortable; he told himself that he would pay more attention to that man and would not allow him to get near you. He may not have been the most intimidating member of the team, but he was confident he could get him off your back.

"Don't worry, I'll help you." Your thankful smile made it all worthwhile.

He had absolutely no idea what he was getting into.

The following days went by normally, but Bob noted the small changes. You appeared to want to spend more time with him; nothing was overstated; you simply sat next to him at breakfast and smiled. Sometimes you'd sit next to him as he read.

You never interrupted him because you were too gentle for that; instead, you remained by his side as a warm and soothing presence. You never compelled him to speak, you never exceeded his space; you were simply present. He appreciated it.

He began to feel safe by your side, not that he hadn't before, but that he did so more frequently.

It was one of those days when they simply existed next to each other that you started a conversation.

"Bob," you called, and he noticed your soft tone. "Are you sure you want to do this?" I know I practically forced you to say yes, but you may always decline. I don't want to make you uncomfortable; if you don't want to, I can ask someone else if-”

He had noticed that you spoke too quickly when you were nervous, which he found very adorable.

"No!" stopped you, and he grimaced instantly, realizing he had sounded overly enthusiastic."It doesn't bother me; if I hadn't wanted it, I would have said no. It's fine, really.”

That was only half the truth; it wasn't that he couldn't say no; rather, he couldn't say no to you.

“Good,” you replied with a relieved smile. "Thank you again; you really help me a lot."

"There's nothing to thank me for," he told you with a little smile. "Did you see him again?"

"No, I've been avoiding the places he usually goes," you answered, visibly annoyed. "I know he comes a couple of times a week, but I'm not sure when."

"Don't worry, we'll keep an eye on it," he assured you.

Bob kept his promise to her. The next day, he had asked Yelena for a list of everyone who worked for Valentina. The former assassin lifted her eyebrows and smiled, but said nothing.

It took him some time to find him, but there he was. His name was Daniel, and he worked on the tower's repairs. None of the workers were permitted to enter the floor where they lived, but this man seemed to disregard the rules in order to come closer to you.

Daniel had not returned to the tower, but that did not prevent him from staying near to you. It was embarrassing how closely he followed you like a lost puppy, but he wanted to guarantee your safety.

He didn't see him until a week later, when he was bothering you again. As you attempted to distance yourself from him, your face flushed with discomfort.

"Come on, beautiful, just one date," he urged, smiling condescendingly. Bob had a brilliant gleam in his eyes before approaching you.

You saw a tiny shift in his posture: his steps were firmer, and his hands were no longer fidgeting. His eyes no longer avoided you; they focused on you with such intensity that you blushed.

He approached you with a smile, standing next to you and wrapped his arm around your waist, drawing you closer to him.

"Hello, darling," he whispered, kissing your forehead. You attempted to hide your amazement; Bob had never been so affectionate with you, and even though you had technically asked for it, you had no idea how to react. "And who are you?"

Daniel swallowed hard, clearly intimidated. "I'm a friend of Y/N," he explained, shaking his hand. "Daniel."

Bob grasped his hand harder than needed. "How strange, she never mentioned you," he said, smiling. "I'm Robert, her boyfriend."

You tried to disguise a smile by hiding your face in his shoulder. You didn't realize Bob could be that petty.

Both enjoyed Daniel's annoyed expression; from that perspective, they appeared to be a loving couple. Nobody would assume they rarely touched hands.

"I don't want to take up more of your time, Daniel," you said. "See you later."

You instantly grabbed Bob's arm and pulled him out of the room. You did not want to spend any more time with that man. You spoke once you had gotten far enough away.

"That was incredible!" you exclaimed, laughing. "Did you see his face?"

Bob's shyness emerged at that moment. "Yeah, I hope that keeps him away from you."

"I hope so," you sighed. "Thank you, Bob."

He grinned at you, with a lovely blush on his cheeks. You wanted to express your gratitude for everything he was doing for you, so an idea began to shape in your thoughts.

"Hey, do you want to get out of here?" you said. The glitter in his eyes revealed the answer.

You led him to a new café that had opened a few blocks from the tower. When you heard out it was a cat café, you immediately felt Bob would enjoy it.

And you were not mistaken.

His smile when a kitten approached him warmed your heart. Bob surrounded by kittens was not an image you wanted to forget.

You took care of his order, and when you returned with two coffees, he was holding a little cat against his chest. You snapped a picture before he could resist.

"What are you doing?" he asked you.

"You two looked too adorable," you said with a smile. "I couldn't help it."

Bob shook his head with a smile, rebellious strands of hair fell over his eyes. You wanted to tuck it behind his ears, but you lacked the courage.

Both of them drank their coffees silently; you didn't want to press the conversation, and Bob was distracted with the kittens. You were astonished when he talked first.

"Can I ask you something?" You nodded slightly to encourage him to speak.

"Why me?" he questioned. "Why did you choose me?"

The question threw you off; choosing him felt natural, even instinctual. Furthermore, you did not want to confess that he was perfectly your type.

You inhaled deeply. "Because you are a good man, Bob. You are sweet and gentle, and you know how to listen to others. You make them feel seen. Not to mention that you're handsome," you admitted. "Who wouldn't want to have you as a boyfriend?"

You blushed beneath his gaze; he gazed at you as if you were the sun peeking out from behind the storm, as if you were something that only happens once in a lifetime. Doubt appeared in his eyes; he didn't believe the sincerity of your remarks, but you were speaking from the heart.

When he saw you weren't going to change your mind, he smiled at you; it wasn't exaggerated or overly bright. It was a warm smile, the type that brings out people's beauty and makes you want to get closer to them.

You wanted to be close to Bob.

Something shifted between you two that day, an unsaid understanding, an invisible string forming between you. A gravitational pull that neither of them could resist.

But not everything is perfect.

What about their little getaway? It was the cover of every magazine at the time. Their faces and furtive smiles had been shot, revealing the intimacy of the moment to everyone.

Valentina had something to say about it.

The woman showed up in the tower with a stomach-churning smile. You didn't like the glow in her eyes, and your body was screaming at you to get away from there.

Bob and you exchanged perplexed looks when she threw a magazine at you that had you on the cover.

"My little superhero lovers, I wanted to speak to you.”

They were certainly in big trouble.

You approached Bob, unintentionally seeking the reassurance his presence brought. Valentina must have noticed their fearful expressions when she spoke to them.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not angry," didn't help them relax. "In fact, this is perfect. Two Avengers in love is just the type of PR we need right now. People enjoy good romance.”

You shifted uncomfortably; you two were not even dating. You would not be in that position if you hadn't made that idiotic request.

"But we don't—" you attempted to say.

"I don't care if you love each other or barely tolerate each other," she exclaimed, frustrated. "I need you to sell it to the public. Next Friday, there will be a charity gala; I need both of you to attend and be the perfect pair. Mel will send your outfit within a few days.”

Both attempted to object, but a single glance from the woman hushed them. "I'm not asking you. Do not fail.”

With that, she went out the door.

"I'm sorry, Bob," you apologized instantly. "This is my fault, I should have realized they were taking pictures of us. You don't have to go; I can tell Valentina that this was entirely my idea, and-"

"Hey, Y/N, breathe," Bob interrupted you, holding your hands. It's not anyone's fault; besides, I agreed to do this, remember? We're now a team, and I'm not going to leave you alone.”

Your frown softened as he spoke; he always manages to calm you down.

"What about the party?"

"We just have to show up there, I think I can survive a party," he told you. "Only if you go with me."

"Deal done," you said with a smile.

It was the night before the gala and you couldn't sleep, the mattress sank uncomfortably under your weight, the sheets that wrapped around you made you feel suffocated. Every time you closed your eyes, thousands of scenarios where everything went wrong began to emerge.

You took a couple of breaths, trying to calm the rapid beats of your heart. You couldn't help but feel anxious; generally, the public events you attended never ended well.

You began to reflect on the previous several weeks, thinking about how the situation had slid out of your grasp. You hated yourself for doing this to Bob.

Bob had been nothing but kind to you, and he chose to help you even though it was not his responsibility. Bob who gazed at you as if you had hung the moon and stars for him.

You had no idea what to deal with those feelings, and you never expected to feel anything for him. Of course, he was always handsome to you, but a relationship required more than just that.

And yet, there you were. Unable to resist your heart's longing for him.

You wanted to be the one who made him laugh out loud and earned his trust. You wanted to see the gorgeous blush that appeared on his cheeks whenever someone complimented him, and you wanted him to take you in his arms and never let you go.

However, he most likely did not feel the same way. You were sure that Bob was too kind to reject you, if you had the courage to declare your feelings and stop pretending.

Soft knocks on your door distracted you from your thoughts, and you reluctantly got up, wondering who was calling you at such a late hour.

Bob's blue eyes gleamed when he saw you, his hair was ruffled, and the deep black circles under his eyes made him appear exhausted. You raised an eyebrow when you saw the pillow he was holding under his arm.

It seemed that you had called him with your thoughts.

"Sorry," his scratchy voice from sleep made you shudder. "I didn't want to wake you, it's just that I couldn't sleep and didn't know what else to do."

You gave him a slight smile before opening the door. It was Bob's first time in your room, and he couldn't help but notice every single detail that made the space yours.

"Don't worry," you murmured, gesturing to the mess of blankets that composed your bed. "I couldn't sleep either."

Bob gave a tiny mumble of understanding; he was too nervous to say anything. Your scent was everywhere, and it was driving him insane.

You stifled a yawn as you took his hand and dragged him to bed. Bob followed you with unsteady feet, and the sight of you with tired eyes and a soft-looking pajama made his heart race.

They lay down with a good gap between them, but after a few minutes, you couldn't help but desire to be closer to him. You moved around, placed your head on his shoulder, and rested your arm on his stomach. You let out a relieved sigh as you felt the warmth of his body on yours.

Bob remained completely still; it was the closest they had ever been. Your breath tickled his skin. He lovingly enveloped you in his arms, and you almost fell asleep immediately.

He noticed your serene expression, the contour of your nose, your slightly parted lips, and how you clung to him. Unconsciously, he began to touch your hair, finding it difficult to understand that someone could feel secure with him.

"Y/N," he muttered, afraid to wake you. You made a sound that resembled an response. "Are you nervous?"

"A little," you sighed. "I don't trust Valentina's intentions, and it's my first time attending a gala with a partner. Well, you are not actually my boyfriend, but for them—"

Bob's laughter interrupted you. "I got it," he said, smiling at you. "To be honest, it's the first time I've attended an event like this. So I'm nervous, too."

Your fingers intertwined with his, and your thumb caressed his knuckles. "Don't worry, they'll love you," you remarked in a sleepy voice.

"It's not their opinion that matters to me," he murmured, but you were already asleep.

Bob let out a defeated sigh and closed his eyes. He instantly fell asleep with you beside him.

When you awoke the next morning, your bed was empty, but you were holding a pillow that did not belong to you.

They both ignored one other all morning, they were embarrassed and too frightened to engage in normal conversation. And the team's relentless taunting of you did not help.

Since they discovered you were in a "relationship," the comments haven't stopped; they never miss a chance to make you blush with their words.

So you decided to hide in your room until it was time to go to the party; however, you still needed to prepare.

You took your time showering and perfuming your body; Valentina had hired numerous people to do your makeup and hairstyle, so you didn't have to worry about it.

The makeup enhanced your looks; they applied an eye shimmer to you that complimented your clothing and made your glance appear more alluring. Your hair was done with gentle waves that cascaded down your back.

You couldn't help but huff at the color of the dress, yet it was still perfect for you. Valentina did her best.

The cloth was comfortable and hugged each curve of your body. It truly made you feel beautiful.

They gave you matching shoes and jewelry, and once you'd completed changing, you glanced in the mirror. You took a deep breath, attempting to settle your nerves. You needed to think that everything would be alright.

You strode down the hallway with your head held high, attempting to radiate confidence. Bob was probably waiting for you in the common area, so you increased your pace.

You spotted him before he noticed you. You were left breathless.

He was dressed in a black suit that appeared to be tailor-made, fitting perfectly around his shoulders and the muscles in his arms. His hair was slicked back with gel, and you were surprised to see that he hadn't shaved; his stubble appealed to you.

He spotted you at that very moment. You gave him a little smile when you saw his open mouthed expression.

His gaze swept over your body, admiring how the dress highlighted your beauty, hugged your physique, and made you appear like a goddess descending to earth.

"Golden?" he inquired with a playful smile, admiring the hue of your garment.

You rolled your eyes. "Well, I'm supposed to be Sentry's girlfriend, with the power of a thousand suns, blah blah," you stated as you approached him. "I had to match, you know?"

"What-what are you doing?" he stammered as you placed your palms against his chest.

"You have your tie crooked," you said, removing the knot with ease. Bob held his breath as you completed your assignment. "Done."

"Easy, Bob, I don't bite," you winked. He murmured something you didn't understand before offering his arm to let you start your way to the door.

"Let's get out of here."

The venue was full, and the sound of so many voices mingling assaulted your ears. You gripped Bob's arm a little tighter.

He was equally nervous, his body shivering slightly against your side. You felt compelled to soothe him, so you entwined your fingers with his and gently squeezed them.

You moved closer, your lips brushing across his ear. "Breathe. We're in this together."

He offered you a faint, strained smile, but it was enough for you. His arm wrapped around your waist, warm and firm, as you both entered the building.

All eyes were on you, the star-crossed lovers, as Valentina had described you. Something about you grabbed attention: your silent complicity, the way you orbited one other, and your inability to stop looking at each other.

Nobody would ever suspect it was a meticulously planned performance. Or that's what they wanted to believe, but you knew some things couldn't be faked.

Bob let you lead the discussions, watching with interest as you enchanted others with your charm. He only spoke when necessary because he still struggled with social interactions. Instead, he remained by your side, always with you.

He hadn't missed the looks some men gave you, so he made certain they knew you weren't alone. That someone was looking after you, even if he was aware you didn't need it.

The night flew by as you both approached the bar for a drink. The lights had darkened, and there were a few couples dancing. You had a small grin on your lips and a sparkle in your eyes, as if you wanted to dance but didn't dare to ask.

Bob didn't want to pass up the opportunity, even though he didn't like the thought of so many people watching him. He extended his hand to you in a subtle invitation. You could barely conceal your surprise.

"Come on," he said, guiding you onto the dance floor. You restrained a smile.

"I didn't know you liked to dance," you joked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and drawing closer to him.

“I'm a terrible dancer," both of them began to sway to the beat of the music. "But it would be a crime not to dance with you."

“Smooth" you chuckled as he spun you around. "Thank you, you are the perfect partner."

When he glanced at you, his eyes had a golden shine in them, but you didn't say anything; you just smiled and put your forehead on his shoulder. That simple act of confidence touched Bob's heart.

Your hair tickled his chin, and your perfume dulled his senses. Your skin felt warm where his hands touched you, and the steady ebb and flow of your breath helped him stay grounded.

He genuinely wanted to kiss you, but he didn't dare. Not there, not where they were exposed to the eyes of others. So they continued to dance, till their feet hurt.

And when you were bored of the music and the people, you proposed leaving. It wasn't your first time attending an event in that building; you were familiar with the space and knew you had to show Bob the view from the terrace.

You led him along the empty hallways, hands clasped and bursting into little giggles of hardly restrained joy. You could feel the excitement in the air, the expectation of what could happen.

The cool night air sent shivers down your spine, as you walked closer to the balcony to take in the view; you'd always enjoyed seeing the city at night.

"Isn't it beautiful?" you stated, feeling Bob's warmth next to you but not taking your gaze away from the city.

"It is," he said, staring at you.

Bob took advantage of your distraction to look at you, noting the way the moonlight reflected on your features, the sparkle in your eyes, and every mole and freckle on your skin. He gazed at you as if he wanted to remember you forever.

You were heartbreakingly beautiful, and it took his breath away. And, God, he loved you with such devotion that even the worst parts of himself yearned for you.

"Are you okay?" you asked, your fingertips gently brushing against his knuckles. "I hope tonight wasn't too much for you."

He shook his head slightly. "It was...fine. I had fun, how about you?”

"I always have fun when I'm with you, Bob," you remarked, smiling sweetly.

His heart raced, and he knew he needed to kiss you. He couldn't leave the night without trying the taste of your lips.

"I've wanted to do something all night," he said, his voice dropping an octave. The intimacy in his tone caused you to lean closer to him.

"Oh, really?" you inquired with bright eyes. "What is it?"

"This," he said, and then he kissed you.

He kissed you desperately, like a beast eager for you, as if he wanted to take every breath that left your lips and claim it for his own.

He claimed your lips as if they were all he needed to survive. And perhaps it was.

His fingers trembled as he grabbed your waist, not out of nerves or fear, but out of barely restrained despair. For the desire to explore your skin.

The world melted away under his touch, the sound of the city scarcely audible in your ears; on that lonesome terrace, only he and you existed.

Your lungs burned, but you didn't want to let go, so you clutched to him tighter, wrinkling the neck of his shirt with your fingers. Bob's arms gripped you securely, and you knew he wasn't going to let you go either.

Your heart raced as his darker eyes met yours, he placed his forehead to yours. They remained motionless for a minute, the only sound coming from their heavy breathing.

You let out a giggle. “God, I like you so much. I'm glad I asked you to be my fake boyfriend.”

Bob laughed, and his chest vibrated against yours. "Yeah, maybe we should change that," he told you. "What do you think? Do you want to be my girlfriend? This time, for real."

"I would love to," you smiled, sealing your words with a kiss.

Asking him to pretend to go out with you was the best decision you'd made. And as for Daniel, let's just say your boyfriend made it clear to him that you were no longer available.

thanks for reading!

#thunderbolts #marvel #fanfic #bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x you #bob reynolds x y/n #bob thunderbolts #sentry #the sentry x reader #sentry x reader #marvel fanfic

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0scarp1astr1 · 1 month ago

Text

࣭ ˖ 𐔌 𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐧 ࿐ . ۫

જ⁀➴ Desc: || Oscar finally wants to marry you, have his life with you forever. The only issue being, the media made sure to out his ring shopping, and the headliner of another woman didn't help his plans. ||

ᯓ★ Oscar Piastri x Fem! Reader

ᯓ★ 2x Genre: Angst, Fluff

ᯓ★ Warning: None

ᯓ★ Requested? No

Author Note: Here is Oscar! I have two more solo fics to write before I jump into your request. After Oscar, will be Lando and Franco. Thank you guys so much for the support, it's never overlooked by me. You'll get this Oscar fic on the same day as Kimi, because it was already halfway written in my drafts, and thanks to the amazing support, I won't leave you guys waiting much longer. So please, enjoy. Remember that the request box is open and private messages are as well.

☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★

Oscar still remembers the night he first met you like a half-faded photo—soft around the edges, but vivid where it mattered most.

It was during a party that Lando had thrown together after a long stretch of back-to-back races, something loud and electric to blow off steam. The kind of night Lando lived for—fast music, faster drinks, and friends packed into every inch of his flat like confetti. Oscar, on the other hand, was the furthest thing from a party person. Introverted to his core, the very idea of voluntarily putting himself in a loud room full of strangers felt like social self-sabotage. But Lando was persistent—painfully persistent. He begged, bargained, and eventually guilt-tripped Oscar into showing up, if only for an hour.

So Oscar did.

He walked into the chaos dressed in the most neutral outfit he owned—a plain white T-shirt and jeans that looked more like he was running out for groceries than attending a party. He hadn’t even bothered to fix his hair properly. It wasn’t rebellion; it was just indifference. He had every intention of staying for sixty minutes, tops. No small talk. No drinks. No dancing. Just show face, and ghost.

The second he stepped through the door, it all hit him at once—the pounding bass vibrating through the floor, people laughing too loudly in every direction, bodies packed shoulder to shoulder. The kitchen, somehow the heart of the whole thing, was a mess of spilled cocktails and half-eaten snacks. There wasn’t even a corner left to hide in.

Oscar cursed himself. What was I thinking?

“There you are!” came a familiar voice over the music. Lando, of course—red-cheeked, grinning like the Cheshire cat, and already halfway through whatever drink he was holding. His eyes lit up like he’d spotted a unicorn. “I was starting to think you bailed again. Come on! Let’s get you a drink!”

Before Oscar could even open his mouth to say no, Lando had already slung an arm around his shoulders and steered him into the crowd. Oscar didn’t want to drink, didn’t even want to be seen, but Lando was too giddy to disappoint. He sighed and accepted the cup pressed into his hand.

“You’ll enjoy it! You’ll like it, I swear!” Lando said with the confidence of someone who never doubted for a second that the world would bend his way.

Then, just as quickly, Lando vanished into the sea of people, leaving Oscar standing alone with lukewarm liquid in hand, surrounded by moving bodies and muffled conversations that all blurred together. He tried to tell himself it would be over soon. Just one hour.

That’s when it happened.

Someone bumped into him from behind—not roughly, but enough to jolt the drink in his hand, the liquid sloshing over the rim and onto his shirt. He blinked, startled, already half-prepared to retreat further into the wall.

“Oh my god—I’m so sorry!” you said, turning around quickly, your eyes wide with genuine concern. “Did I spill it all over you? I wasn’t paying attention—I swear I didn’t see you standing there.”

Oscar glanced down at his shirt. A light splash of whatever Lando had given him—nothing major. But before he could say anything, you were already rambling out an apology.

“I really should’ve been watching where I was going... Ugh, I hate when people do that and now I’ve done it myself. Are you okay?”

Your words were fast, a little breathless, and filled with a kind of awkward charm that caught Oscar off guard. For the first time that evening, he let out the faintest smile.

“It’s fine,” he said quietly, the corners of his lips tilting up just enough. “Honestly. Not the worst thing that’s happened tonight.”

You laughed—warm and soft, like it was only meant for him—and for a brief second, the room didn’t feel so loud. The lights weren’t so harsh. And maybe the party wasn’t as unbearable as he thought.

You offered to help him clean it up, reaching for a napkin, fussing just enough that it made him laugh under his breath again.

“I’m usually not this clumsy,” you said, glancing up at him through a sheepish grin.

And Oscar—introverted, anxious, very much ready to leave ten minutes ago—found himself replying, “I’m usually not at parties.”

“Well,” you said, handing him a slightly crumpled paper towel, “maybe tonight we both try something new.”

And somehow, from that small moment—a bump, an apology, a soft exchange—something quiet but significant began. A kind of comfort Oscar hadn’t expected to find in the middle of a crowd. You didn’t know it then, and neither did he, but it was the start of something...different. Something good.

The conversation between you and Oscar had been easy—too easy, almost like the universe had decided he deserved a break that night. The kind of connection that didn’t come with effort or force. Just simple, smooth energy that felt right.

You didn’t pressure him to drink. You didn’t overwhelm him with questions or drag him into noisy chaos. Instead, you just existed beside him—calm, grounded, and genuinely enjoying yourself without needing alcohol or attention to do it. He noticed that. He noticed everything about you.

The way your eyes crinkled when you laughed too hard. The way you playfully scolded Lando when he tried to stack too many ping pong balls into a single cup during a chaotic game of beer pong. The way you somehow made even that look fun—made him laugh, made him play.

Oscar didn’t really care for beer pong. He barely cared for parties. But he found himself lingering near you like gravity had quietly shifted its pull. You didn’t demand his attention—you earned it, slowly and naturally. And somewhere between the laughter and small talk, between your jokes and the occasional clink of plastic cups, Oscar realized something: he wasn’t counting the minutes anymore.

Maybe it was you that night. Maybe it was always going to be you.

As the night wore on, the apartment started to thin out. Guests began filing out in little groups, hugging each other goodbye, buzzing from drinks and good vibes. The music softened. The once-wild energy simmered into a low, sleepy warmth. But Oscar didn’t notice much of it. Not really. Because you were still there—walking beside him out the door, arms brushing lightly every now and then, both of you laughing at something small and ridiculous you said.

The world outside was cool and quiet, a peaceful contrast to the storm of noise inside. It felt like a reset button had been pressed.

“I had fun tonight,” you said, breathless from your last laugh. “Oh! I never introduced myself properly—my name’s Y/N. Sorry, I totally forgot.”

Oscar gave a small shake of his head, the corner of his lips tugging into a soft, rare smile. “No worries. Oscar Piastri.”

You raised your brows, a playful sparkle in your eyes. “Oscar Pastry, huh?”

It was a tired, overused joke. He’d heard it before. But somehow—coming from you—it landed differently. He laughed, a real one, not just a polite exhale. A small, surprised sound that made your smile grow a little wider.

And that smile? That might’ve just been the highlight of his entire night.

Then came the soft sound of tires rolling to a stop—the cab pulling up to the curb. You turned to him, shifting slightly, your expression suddenly more serious, but no less kind.

“Oh—before I go!” you said, reaching into your pocket and pulling out your phone. You held it out to him, eyes sincere. “I’d like your number.”

Oscar blinked, caught off guard for a moment. No one had ever asked him like that before—straightforward, unbothered, sure. But it didn’t feel intimidating. It felt like you. Honest. Warm. Real.

He took your phone without hesitation, typing his number in carefully, and handing it back with the ghost of a smile still on his lips. You didn’t linger after that. Just a quick thank you, a soft “goodnight,” and then you were off—sliding into the backseat of the cab, waving briefly as the door shut.

Oscar stood on the curb for a moment longer, watching the car disappear down the quiet street, the faint trail of its taillights flickering in the distance.

And you? You sat in the backseat, scrolling to his contact, smiling to yourself as you saved it—Oscar. No last name. No note. Just that.

Neither of you knew it at the time, but that night would stick—etched in both your memories like a hidden bookmark in the story neither of you realized had just begun. The night didn’t end with fireworks or sweeping gestures, just the quiet magic of meeting the right person... in the most unexpected place.

And to Oscar, you would be unforgettable. Because somehow, on a night he didn’t even want to show up… You made it one he’d never want to forget.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

After that night at the party, something changed for Oscar. He didn’t expect it—hadn’t prepared for it—but he found himself reaching for his phone more often than he ever had before.

At first, the messages were short and simple. “Hey, did you get home okay?” “Was that your go-to drink at the party?” But soon, those texts began to fill the quiet spaces of his day. Good morning. Sleep well. What are you up to tonight? Want to hang out?

It became his favorite routine. You and him, tucked away from the noise of the media, the cameras, the press. No interviews, no scrutiny—just small, precious pockets of time that belonged only to the two of you. Cooking dinner, walking in the park, watching trash TV until midnight with snacks balanced between you. It was normal. It was private. And for Oscar, it was everything.

Then one evening, during a quiet moment as you both sat near a sunlit window, he looked over at you, heart racing, fingers twitching ever so slightly, and asked softly:

"I want to take you on a date… if you’ll allow it?"

It was such a simple question. But it carried weight. The moment you said yes, something shifted—for both of you. A quiet promise began to form, one that would only grow stronger.

The first date was his idea—sweet, understated, and just enough to ease his nerves. A cozy dinner. Light wine, shared food, conversations that felt like warmth in motion. The two of you sat across from each other like the rest of the world didn’t exist. You talked about family, childhood memories, even weird food preferences. And you laughed. A lot. There were inside jokes born that night, the kind no one else would understand.

The second date was your turn. You chose bowling—unexpected, messy, chaotic fun. You were both competitive in the most ridiculous ways, Oscar pretending to pout when you landed a strike, you high-fiving him dramatically when he finally beat your score. That night ended in the quiet of an empty hilltop, lying on the hood of his car, counting stars like kids at summer camp. He remembers how you laughed when he pointed at a constellation and got it completely wrong. That was also the night you took your first photo together—unplanned, under the stars, a blurry shot that still lives in his camera roll. One of his favorites.

The third date was his again. But this one was different. This one meant something. It was quieter, more intimate. He had flowers—soft lavender and cream ones he thought matched you perfectly. His voice trembled slightly when he finally said, "Will you be my girlfriend?"

It slipped out so naturally, so full of quiet confidence that it surprised even him. You said yes, of course. And he swore the moment your smile bloomed, he felt like he could breathe easier.

Time passed. Dates turned into routines. Routines turned into a life.

Oscar found a flat in Monaco. It was beautiful, filled with sunlight and soft corners and windows that framed the sky just right. But it wasn’t until you moved in that it felt like home. Slowly, your life together began to decorate every inch—photos pinned to the fridge, coffee mugs you’d argue over, throw blankets left tangled on the couch after movie nights.

The mornings started with your cooking, the smell of coffee drifting through the flat, Oscar appearing in the kitchen still half-asleep but smiling as soon as he saw you. Every goodbye kiss at the door, every return home to your arms open wide—it grounded him. Anchored him.

And then there were the moments that most people didn’t see—the quiet proof of love.

You staying up late to finish a work project, Oscar pulling up a chair beside you just to keep you company, offering snacks or resting his head on your shoulder. Him canceling plans when you weren’t feeling well. You learning everything about F1 just so you could cheer for him in a way that made his heart feel full.

Love didn’t shout between you—it whispered. In everyday things. In shared space, in little favors, in choosing each other again and again. And of course, Lando, ever the enthusiastic third wheel, cheered you both on like the biggest fan of your love story. “About damn time,” he’d joke, still bragging that he was the reason Oscar even showed up to that party in the first place.

Oscar knew now—what he hadn’t known that first night in the crowded kitchen. That bump… that spilled drink… it led him to something real. Someone real.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

In the present moment, on a sunlit and sweltering race weekend in Miami, the paddock buzzed with its usual mix of chaos and glamour. But your day had found its own rhythm—drifting from garage to garage, laughing with friends, soaking up the little moments that made this fast-paced life feel normal.

You were somewhere nearby, probably with Kelly, sharing laughs and gossip about her famously private boyfriend, Max Verstappen, or perhaps doting on little Penelope, who had taken an unexpected liking to you. Maybe you were with Alex, teasing her about her and Charles’ adorable little dog, Leo, or even chatting up Lewis, nudging him about why he still hadn't settled down so you’d have another couple friend to drag along to double dates. Or maybe, just maybe, you were off somewhere talking Franco's ear off—your conversations with him always managed to stretch into something long, effortless, and full of laughter. He had grown to be someone Oscar trusted with you. And that meant everything.

But right now, Oscar had something heavy pressing on his chest.

He made his way through the paddock, helmet still in hand, race adrenaline still fading from his system, until he found himself at the McLaren drivers’ room. There sat Lando, dressed down in his suit but glued to his phone, probably scrolling through his Instagram feed or replying to fans.

Oscar cleared his throat. “Mate, we need to talk.”

Lando immediately looked up, expression flickering with concern. He tossed his phone to the side, giving Oscar his full attention. “What is it?”

There was a tension in Oscar’s voice that made Lando squint. “Are you breaking up with Y/n?” he asked a little too quickly, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Oscar rolled his eyes with a soft scoff. “No, it’s… something serious.”

That made Lando lean in slightly, curiosity sharpening. Oscar sat beside him, shifting forward, elbows resting on his knees. His hands wrung together before he finally said it—softly, but with a clarity that felt like standing at the edge of something huge.

“I want to be with her... forever.”

Lando’s brow lifted slightly, waiting for more.

“I mean it,” Oscar added. “Not just dating. Not just someday. I want to marry her.”

Lando froze, then let out an audible “Ohhhhhh.” He stared at Oscar, blinking once, then twice before his lips broke into a slow, boyish grin. “You want to marry her? Mate… that’s huge.”

Oscar blushed slightly at even admitting it out loud. But it was a good kind of blush—the kind that comes with certainty.

Lando’s tone softened. “What made you want to settle down?”

Oscar paused. The question lingered in the air, and he let the silence hang for a moment before answering.

“It’s everything, Lando,” he said. “The way she makes space feel like home, the way she smells when she’s baking. The way she talks to people—so gentle but strong. The way she handles herself, how she doesn’t chase the spotlight, but it still finds her. The way she is with kids—God, when I see her hold Penelope, or laugh with Charles and Alex about Leo like it’s a child, it just… makes me want to have that life. A real one. With her. Waking up next to her every day, watching her grow, maybe even… raising a little us someday.”

He smiled faintly, his thoughts clearly far away now, lost in the mental image of a family he hadn’t even begun to build but somehow already felt was real.

“She’s soft-spoken. Kind. And I love her, Lando. More than I think I’ve ever loved anything in my life.”

Lando blinked away a bit of emotion at that, not expecting Oscar to say it like that. “Damn,” he whispered. “That’s actually really beautiful, mate.”

Then came the realization.

“And I’m guessing… you’re telling me this because you need help.”

Oscar gave a sheepish nod. “I want to surprise her. I want the proposal to be perfect. But I’m gonna need you to keep her distracted for a while.”

Lando leaned back with a smirk. “Oh, I’m the distraction?”

Oscar chuckled. “You’re the only one I trust to pull it off and not ruin it.”

Lando held up his hands dramatically. “I’ll do it. But only because I love her almost as much as you do. And because I know she’s going to say yes.”

Oscar’s smile widened—relief, nerves, joy, and love all tangled into one quiet moment.

And somewhere in the paddock, while you laughed with a friend or cradled Penelope or nagged Lewis just a bit too much, you had no idea that the man you loved was planning the next chapter of your forever.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The Miami sun beamed down mercilessly, heatwaves shimmering off the asphalt. The crowd was electric, a sea of color and noise vibrating through the paddock and into every driver’s chest. The lights above the grid flashed one by one.

Red. Red. Red. Red. Red.

Lights out.

The race began in a blur of tire smoke and deafening roars. Oscar got a solid launch, holding P3 as Lando surged forward, challenging Max for the lead. The three of them—Oscar, Lando, Max—became the trio to watch, locked in a ruthless, tire-burning dance through the corners and straights of the Miami circuit.

Inside his helmet, Oscar was calm—hyper-focused, heart racing in time with the engine beneath him. Every sharp turn and braking zone was met with precision. His thoughts flickered to you in the paddock.

Lap after lap, Oscar edged closer.

By Lap 42, Lando had made a brave move down the inside of Max into Turn 11, clean and fast. The crowd erupted.

McLaren was now running 1–2.

But Oscar wasn’t done.

“I’ve got more in me,” he said calmly over the radio, voice smooth like steel.

His engineer trusted him. “Use Mode Push.”

The gap between him and Lando was just under a second. Teammates or not—this was still a race. Lando knew it. Oscar knew it.

By Lap 49, Oscar was in DRS range, tires still fresh from a perfectly-timed stop. He followed Lando through the long sweeping section, patient… waiting… then he launched—down the main straight, DRS open, slipstream locked.

Turn 1.

Late braking. No lock-up. Clean line. Oscar Piastri takes the lead.

Lando tried to counter, staying within reach, but Oscar had already found another gear.

Behind them, Max was hanging on in P3, but couldn’t match the pace—his tires fading, the Red Bull slightly unsettled through the corners.

McLaren was on fire.

The sun began to set, casting golden light across the track. Oscar rounded the final corner, heart hammering as the checkered flag waved.

P1.

He did it.

Lando crossed just a few seconds behind for a brilliant P2, and Max Verstappen rolled in to secure P3.

McLaren erupted in celebration—mechanics throwing their headsets, hugging, yelling, half in disbelief and half in joy.

You stood in the middle of it all, hands covering your mouth, heart ready to burst.

The trio stood tall: Oscar, Lando, and Max.

The champagne sprayed high into the air—Lando was the first to pop his, hitting Max directly, and Max retaliated without hesitation. Oscar laughed, shielding himself at first, before joining in and dousing Lando in return.

But his mind never wandered far.

As the national anthem faded and the crowd roared, Oscar took a deep breath, heart full. The victory tasted sweet—but not just because of the race. Because you were there. Because Lando stood beside him, grinning like a proud idiot. Because in that golden moment, everything felt exactly as it should.

He caught your eyes again from the podium, and in that split-second—champagne dripping from his curls, his suit marked with grit and glory—he mouthed two simple words:

“For you.”

The moment Oscar stepped down from the podium, past the flashing cameras, the sprayed champagne still dripping from his curls, his eyes scanned the crowd frantically—until they landed on you.

You didn’t hesitate. You bolted past the last line of crew members and into his arms. Oscar caught you with a firm lift, pulling you close as you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, your smile wide and your cheeks flushed with pride and emotion.

“You did it! Congratulations, baby!” you exclaimed, your voice bubbling with joy. And then—without pause—you kissed him. Everywhere. His cheeks, his temple, his nose, his lips—each kiss full of love and celebration.

Oscar laughed, head tilting back slightly from the peppering of affection, the kind of genuine laugh he only ever saved for you. His arms were still around your waist, not letting go just yet. “You’re my lucky charm,” he teased, his voice soft, eyes shining. “You show up, I win.”

You gave a playful little scoff, brushing your fingers through his damp curls. “Mmm, so now I’m responsible for the trophy?” “I mean… I did win when you wore that dress,” he murmured with a cheeky smirk, making you laugh and roll your eyes. “Oh, so it’s the dress, not my presence?” “No no—definitely you. The dress is just... bonus magic,” he grinned.

With one last loving squeeze, he gently lowered you back to the ground, but his fingers lingered at your waist, reluctant to let go too quickly.

You turned then, catching Lando approaching with a smug smile and open arms. You didn’t hesitate to embrace him too.

“You did so good out there, Lando!” you said warmly, hugging him tightly and giving him a few proud pats on the back. “I’m really proud of you.”

Lando chuckled, ruffling your hair slightly like a teasing older brother. “Yeah, yeah, give all the attention to the golden boy over there,” he joked with a tilt of his head toward Oscar.

You grinned and gave him a little nudge in the ribs. “Come on, second place on a day like today? You and Oscar owned that track. McLaren hasn’t looked this alive in a long time. You should be proud.”

Lando’s eyes softened then, smile turning more genuine. “Thanks, love. Means a lot coming from you.”

Oscar stepped forward, bumping shoulders with his teammate as they exchanged a look of shared accomplishment. “Couldn’t have done it without you keeping Max on edge.” “Yeah, well,” Lando shrugged, “someone had to play defense while you went full superman.”

The three of you stood there, a small trio in the middle of a chaotic celebration, but in your little circle, time slowed down. There was champagne still soaking into the gravel, mechanics shouting joyfully in the distance, and fans cheering just beyond the gates. But none of it could distract from this feeling—this warmth.

Franco soon joined you, jogging up in his Alpine gear, having stayed to watch the podium.

“Hey! Look at you three!” he beamed, pulling you into a half hug. “I swear, Oscar, you better hold onto her tight. She’s had you glowing since lap one.”

You blushed and laughed, while Oscar gave a mock-serious nod. “Trust me, mate. I’m not letting go.”

You glanced up at him with a look—soft, unspoken, but deeply mutual.

Franco clapped both Lando and Oscar on the shoulders. “Drinks tonight, yeah?” Lando smirked. “Oh, we’re celebrating big.”

Oscar looked down at you, brushing his thumb across your cheek gently. “But I get the first dance with her,” he murmured.

You smiled, leaning into his touch. “Always.”

Oscar watched you disappear into the crowd, your figure moving with effortless familiarity toward the Red Bull garage. He caught a glimpse of you slipping past engineers and mechanics, weaving between busy crew members until you finally reached Max and Kelly. Despite how intimidating Max Verstappen could seem to outsiders, Oscar knew better now—he’d seen the soft moments, the quiet way Max would look at Kelly, or how easily the two of them welcomed you both into their lives.

Kelly adored you, and you adored her. Whether it was cozy nights in, talking for hours about life and love, or the occasional spontaneous spa day, your bond with her had blossomed into something beautifully natural. Max, too, had warmed to you over time. Dinners, double dates, quiet afternoons in Monte Carlo—Oscar often caught Max cracking a rare grin at something you said, or leaning in just slightly to hear you better, a silent sign of trust and respect. It made Oscar love you even more.

As your laughter trailed off into the distance, Oscar turned back to Lando and Franco, his hands in his pockets, a rare look of nervous excitement passing over his face.

“Alright,” he began, voice lower now, more serious under the buzz of post-race energy, “she has work tomorrow, a project she’s submitting to the office. So she’ll be busy most of the day. That gives me a window.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, already suspecting where this was going, while Franco leaned forward with interest.

“In two days,” Oscar continued, “we’re going ring shopping.”

Lando let out a soft whistle, impressed. “It’s actually happening, huh?”

Oscar gave a small but meaningful nod, the corner of his lips tugging up in the kind of smile only you had ever been able to draw from him. “Yeah. It is. I’ve known for a while, but... it just feels right now.”

He turned to Franco, clapping a hand on his shoulder with a kind of brotherly sincerity. “I’m gonna need your help, mate. You’ve got the taste. You’ll scout stores ahead of time, take pictures of the rings, tell me what you think fits her best.”

Franco chuckled. “Ah, so I’m the ring scout now, huh?”

Oscar grinned. “Exactly. But not just any ring—her ring. I want it to look like it was made just for her.”

Franco gave a small salute. “I’m on it. She’s got that elegant but soft vibe. I’ll find you something that screams her name before you even say it.”

Oscar’s gaze then shifted to Lando, a knowing smirk forming. “And you... you’re my distraction.”

Lando scoffed with a dramatic gesture. “What am I? Her babysitter?”

“No,” Oscar teased, “but if there’s anyone she can hang out with for hours without asking questions, it’s you.”

Lando shrugged, amused. “Fair enough. We do talk absolute nonsense for half the day. What do you want me to do?”

“Whatever keeps her away from jewelry shops and suspicious thoughts,” Oscar replied. “Lunch, karting, shopping, hell, make her organize your closet if you have to.”

Franco barked a laugh. “Don’t give him ideas. He will.”

Lando held up his hands innocently. “Hey, if it helps your cause, I’ll let her roast my entire wardrobe. Again.”

Oscar laughed softly, but the emotion in his eyes was real—warm and hopeful. “Thank you. Both of you. This is the biggest thing I’ll ever do. And I just want it to be perfect.”

They both nodded, a quiet weight settling over the group—this wasn’t just about helping a friend. It was about witnessing love grow from something casual to something forever.

Franco glanced toward the Red Bull paddock where you were now talking animatedly with Kelly, your head thrown back in laughter. “She doesn’t even know what’s coming,” he said with a grin.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

While the rest of Miami’s nightlife pulsed with post-race energy—drivers, teams, and celebrities diving into champagne-soaked celebrations—your evening with Oscar was unfolding in a much quieter, far more intimate way.

The two of you had reserved a private dining room in one of Miami’s most elegant rooftop restaurants, overlooking the glowing skyline and gentle waves in the distance. The restaurant itself felt tucked away, dimly lit with golden chandeliers hanging low and casting a soft warmth across the sleek black-and-gold table setting. You and Oscar had invited his family to join you—a post-race celebration, but one that felt more personal than public. It was the kind of night Oscar treasured.

He sat beside you in a crisp black button-up, sleeves casually rolled, a watch still on his wrist from earlier. You wore something soft and elegant, a silk number that caught the light every time you moved. The view behind you shimmered, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

Across the table sat Chris and Nicole, his parents, both dressed with easy sophistication. Beside them were his sisters—Edie, Hattie, and Mae—laughing quietly among themselves as the waiter finished pouring wine into everyone's glasses.

Conversation flowed easily. There was something so grounded about being around his family, and you fit right in. You always had.

“He can be a bit messy at times, but I love him,” you said with a playful smirk, cutting into your filet as Oscar let out a light groan beside you.

Nicole burst into laughter, resting a hand near her wine glass. “Oh, believe me, we know.”

Chris chuckled as he leaned back in his chair. “There was a time his floor disappeared under piles of laundry. Thought he was nesting.”

You laughed along with them, the sound soft but heartfelt. Hattie smiled warmly at you from across the table, and you leaned a bit toward her, offering gently, “Did you want a refill, Hattie?”

She shook her head, sweetly. “No, I’m okay. But thank you.”

That’s what they all appreciated about you—you didn’t hover or perform, you simply were. Genuinely kind. A natural fit. You never tried to control Oscar’s time with them, only added to it. Dinners like this were your idea. And even in a restaurant as polished as this one, with live jazz floating up from the bar below and silver clinking softly against china, you made everything feel like home.

“So,” Nicole began after a sip of her wine, eyes twinkling over the rim of her glass, “any kids in the future?”

The table paused. The jazz in the background suddenly felt a little too well-timed.

You choked slightly on your bite of food, coughing into your napkin as Oscar’s eyes widened beside you.

“Mum!” he half-laughed, half-groaned, patting your back lightly as he shot her a look. “You can’t just drop that.”

Nicole held up both hands, unbothered and smiling. “I’m just asking! You two are practically a married couple already.”

“I am so sorry, Y/n,” she added, though her grin betrayed the sincerity. “Curiosity got the better of me.”

Chris was shaking his head affectionately beside her. “Smooth, Nic.”

You finally caught your breath and placed your napkin down, glancing up with a shy smile. “It’s okay, really. Just... wasn’t expecting that while mid-bite.”

Oscar leaned closer to you, his hand finding your thigh beneath the table—comforting, reassuring. You met his gaze briefly and saw that soft spark in his eyes, the one that always made your chest ache in the best way.

“I mean... we’ve talked about it a little,” you admitted, voice gentle now. “Nothing planned just yet, but... it doesn’t scare me. Not with him.”

Nicole’s expression melted with affection, and even Edie let out a quiet, dreamy little “aww.” Hattie and Mae giggled between themselves.

“I think you two would be wonderful parents,” Nicole said earnestly. “You’ve already been so great with Mae.”

“Can I name the baby?” Mae asked innocently, blinking up from her drink.

Everyone laughed again, even the waiter delivering dessert cracked a smile.

Oscar turned to you again, voice low and full of fondness. “They’re getting ahead of us.”

You smiled into your wine glass, eyes shining in the candlelight. “Maybe not by that much.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, almost absentmindedly, and then turned back to his family—conversation resuming, laughter bubbling through the air like champagne.

And as you sat there with the city lights dancing behind the windows and Oscar’s family all around you, you realized this moment—this soft, private, real celebration—was your favorite kind of win.

Dinner had long since wound down, the plates now empty save for the smudges of sauce and lingering crumbs from the breadbasket that Mae had slowly picked apart during dessert. Glasses sat half-full, the red wine catching the soft candlelight, and the scent of roasted garlic and rosemary still hung in the air, mixed with subtle hints of your perfume every time you leaned forward to speak.

Laughter still bubbled around the table, gentle and unforced, the kind that came from genuine joy—not from anything particularly funny, just from being with people who made you feel safe. You were relaxed now, more than you'd been in days. Maybe it was the quiet joy of Oscar’s win, maybe the closeness of his family, or maybe it was the arm he had draped around the back of your chair, his fingers idly brushing your shoulder like he was tethering himself to you. Even when he wasn’t looking directly at you, you felt him. But tonight, he rarely looked away.

He watched you with soft eyes, his posture open and content, nodding along as you told Nicole and Chris about your work and the never-ending test of patience that was your boss.

"My boss isn't the nicest," you said with a little roll of your eyes, fingers wrapping around your wine glass. “I’m afraid if I don’t quit someday, he’s going to drive me up the wall. He wakes up miserable, I swear.”

Nicole let out a sympathetic laugh. “Some people just have a talent for ruining mornings.”

You sighed, smiling tiredly. “Thankfully for me, Oscar keeps me from overworking too much.”

“I’m not the biggest fan of your boss either,” Oscar chimed in easily, his voice low but protective. “In fact, I have told you—if you want to quit, you can.”

There was no pressure in his tone, just quiet support. But you shook your head gently, already knowing that.

“I know I can,” you replied, reaching under the table to brush your fingers along his knee affectionately. “But I don’t want to be at home with nothing to do all day. I like my independence… even if it means a few headaches.”

Chris smiled into his glass, watching the exchange with clear admiration. It was subtle, but everyone at the table could feel it—Oscar respected you, deeply. And it wasn’t just because of the way you held your own, or how you showed up for him and his family—it was the way you carried yourself, the way you chose him and still chose you too.

Nicole gave your hand a gentle squeeze from across the table. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re handling it all beautifully. But you always have a place here, you know. And a family who’ll back you up, miserable bosses be damned.”

You smiled at that, glancing around the table at the people who had, over time, become an extension of your own.

But a glance at your phone made your brows furrow softly. “It’s getting late…” you murmured, pressing the button to lock the screen. “Oscar and I should head back to our hotel room.”

Oscar nodded, already scooting his chair back in sync with you.

You stood and smoothed your dress before stepping around the table, leaning in to wrap your arms gently around Nicole first. “Please,” you said softly, “whenever we fly back home after the season, think about coming to see us. Dinner at our place in Monaco. I’ll cook, and you can bring dessert,” you added with a wink toward Edie.

Nicole hugged you warmly. “We’d love that.”

Chris gave you a firm but fatherly hug. “Count on it.”

Even Hattie, usually a little more reserved, pulled you in with quiet affection, while Mae clung to your waist like she wasn’t ready to say goodbye. “You make the best noodles,” she whispered, giggling.

Oscar stepped in then, brushing a kiss to his youngest sister’s hair before pulling out his wallet and sliding his card to the waiter with a quiet thank-you.

He turned back to the table once more, giving his mum a light peck on the cheek. “Thanks for coming, really. This meant a lot.”

Nicole touched his arm, smiling. “We wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

Hand in hand, you and Oscar exited the private dining room, stepping out into the cool Miami evening where the buzz of the city still lingered faintly on the breeze. The driver was already waiting by the curb, the car quiet and comfortable as you both slid in.

As the door closed and the city lights streaked by outside, Oscar leaned his head against the seat, finally letting out a long, content breath.

“That was… perfect,” he murmured.

You glanced over at him, reaching for his hand again. “It really was.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The quiet hum of the laptop fan was the only sound in the room. You sat propped up against the pillows, legs tucked under the covers as the early morning sun streamed gently through the sheer curtains. The golden light spilled across the white sheets and reflected off your screen, giving the whole space a soft, honeyed glow. Your fingers tapped rhythmically against the keys, eyes focused, though your mind drifted in and out.

Oscar’s side of the bed was already cold.

It was odd—he was never one to sneak out of bed without at least whispering a goodbye or pressing a kiss to your forehead. But this morning, he’d slipped out early, quiet as a whisper, and all he’d left behind was the subtle impression of his body on the mattress.

You told yourself not to overthink it. Maybe he went for a run. Maybe there was media to handle. Maybe Franco had roped him into some Alpine post-race brunch. Still, the quiet without him had weight. You missed him. You always missed him when he was gone too long, no matter how silly that sounded.

With a sigh, you shifted the laptop from your thighs and placed it gently beside you. Work could wait ten more minutes.

Slipping out of bed, you padded across the plush carpet in your soft lounge set, the kind Oscar always complimented with that quiet smirk of his. Your hair was a bit messy from sleep, but you didn’t care—this was your quiet time. You moved toward the door, mostly out of instinct, thinking maybe you’d call room service for some tea.

A light knock came just as your fingers grazed the handle.

You cracked the door open cautiously, only to be greeted by the wide, mischievous grin of your best friend.

“Lando?” you blinked, surprise melting into warmth as your lips curved into a smile. “What are you doing?”

“Coming to see you,” he said with his usual cheeky charm, rocking on his heels. “I figured you were still in work mode, but I missed annoying you. Thought I’d remind you I exist.”

You laughed softly, opening the door wider as you leaned against the frame. “I could never forget. And yeah, I’ve been buried under this stupid report since dawn.”

He leaned his head in a little to peek past you. “Oscar not here?”

You shook your head slowly. “Weirdly left early. Didn’t say much.”

Lando made a thoughtful noise, hands sliding into his hoodie pockets. “Hmm. Probably up to something.”

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Do you know something?”

Lando raised both brows in mock innocence. “Moi? Absolutely not. I’m just here for moral support.”

You gave him a playful nudge. “Right.”

“Anyway,” he continued, brushing past the subject casually, “whenever you get a break, we should hang out. Just like old times. I was thinking a walk down the marina, maybe grab something stupidly sugary from that gelato place you love.”

You softened at that.

It had been ages since you and Lando really spent time together. Not because of any distance emotionally, but just… life. Between your job, Oscar’s schedule, travel, and managing your own life, moments for spontaneity had slipped through the cracks. Still, Lando never once gave you guilt about it. He just kept showing up, in that uniquely Lando way—goofy, loyal, and present.

“I’d love that,” you said sincerely. “Let me finish this report, and I’m yours.”

He gave you a salute and leaned against the doorframe lazily. “Perfect. I’ll be your personal assistant today. I’ll make sure you hydrate and don’t throw your laptop across the room.”

“Tempting,” you muttered, glancing back at the screen. “Really tempting.”

Lando chuckled, watching you fondly. “Alright, finish up. Then we’ll go get your sugar fix."

You shut your laptop with a triumphant snap, the final click of the keyboard leaving you with the kind of satisfaction only people with insufferable bosses understand. You stretched your arms above your head and sighed—finally, freedom. You threw on a pair of jeans, a tucked-in tee, and a light jacket before grabbing your phone and heading to the door, where Lando was waiting, leaned casually against the hallway wall, scrolling through TikTok with a crooked grin.

“Took you long enough,” he teased, sliding his phone into his pocket as he pushed off the wall.

“I was making the world a better place,” you deadpanned. “One report at a time.”

He snorted. “Well, Saint Y/N, you’ve earned gelato and gossip.”

And with that, the two of you were off.

The day passed in waves of golden sunlight and warm laughter, walking side by side through the winding streets near the marina. You shared bites of your gelato—Lando insisting pistachio was superior, you rolling your eyes at him—and stopped by little shops just for fun. Conversations flowed effortlessly, drifting between real-time updates on your jobs and memories from your younger, wilder days.

At one point, Lando pulled out his phone and showed you a horribly grainy video of the two of you from years ago—some summer night, somewhere in Monaco, where you both looked far too caffeinated and chaotic.

“Oh my god,” you laughed, your hand covering your mouth. “Why do you still have this?”

“I cherish our worst moments,” he said proudly. “They’re funny.”

You bumped your shoulder into his, warmth blossoming in your chest. It had been too long since you'd laughed like this. Lando always had a way of bringing out that younger, freer version of you—the part that still existed beneath the maturity of your relationship and responsibilities.

What you didn’t know—what Lando was thrilled to keep secret—was that every spontaneous detour, every long-winded story, every stop to pet a random dog on the street was part of his mission: keep you out, keep you distracted, keep you from suspecting anything at all.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Oscar stood in a bright, marble-floored boutique with Franco at his side, both of them scanning the lit glass cases filled with rings.

Oscar was focused—no, obsessed. His arms were crossed, brows furrowed, eyes narrowed like he was trying to choose tires mid-race strategy.

“She doesn’t like anything too flashy,” he murmured under his breath, eyes flicking between two rings. “But she likes rose gold. And I think she mentioned cushion cuts once when we walked past a shop in Milan.”

Franco, dressed in a loose tee and joggers, was leaning with both elbows on the glass, eyeing Oscar with the casual fatigue of someone who had been ring-hunting for hours. “At this point, I think you know her ring size, style, and finger temperature better than she does.”

Oscar cracked a faint smile, but his eyes didn’t move. “I want it to feel like her. Not just some expensive rock. Something that feels like... something she’d wear even if I hadn’t given it to her.”

Franco hummed softly, tapping the edge of the glass case. “She’s not marrying the ring. She’s marrying you. But I get it.”

They circled the shop again—one that had been recommended by Kelly, who had insisted on it. Still, something wasn’t clicking. Every ring looked beautiful, but none of them felt right. Oscar was patient, but the weight of it all was beginning to grow heavier in his chest. Not with fear—but with hope. With love.

“I might have to wait until we’re back in Monaco,” he said after a long pause, eyes still studying a delicate piece of art nestled in a velvet tray. “Find the place we passed last year, the one she actually stopped to look at. She didn’t say anything, but she smiled. I remember.”

Franco nodded, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Then that’s where we’ll go. I’ll go with you. I’m already invested now.”

Oscar chuckled softly, finally stepping back from the glass. “Thanks, mate.”

“Of course.” Franco grinned. “I’m gonna cry at your wedding, by the way. Don’t expect anything less.”

Oscar laughed, and for the first time all morning, his shoulders dropped. “Honestly… I probably will too.”

Back outside, the sun had begun to dip low in the sky, casting long, golden shadows over the sidewalks of Miami.

And across town, you sat beside Lando on a bench overlooking the water, laughing softly as he told you some ridiculous party story, completely unaware of the quiet, sacred thing that was unfolding just for you.

Monaco had a quiet rhythm to it, one that you always forgot about until you returned home and were swallowed by its golden calm. The sun here poured differently through the windows. Softer. Gentler. The marble tiles of the flat cooled your feet, and the scent of the ocean always lingered faintly through the open balcony doors.

You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed the way silence felt in this place — not lonely, but peaceful. Like the world had exhaled and left you and Oscar a little corner to just be.

It had been a few days since Miami. Oscar had kept close in those first two days — helping you unpack, ordering your favorite meals, bringing you coffee in bed before your eyes even adjusted to the morning light. But slowly, he started stepping out more often. Nothing too unusual at first. Errands. “Meeting someone real quick.” A run.

He didn’t seem distant, but he wasn’t... anchored either. And maybe that wouldn’t have mattered if you hadn’t been through a time when Oscar was distant before. Your brain had been trained to catch the smallest changes — the ones that carried no words but all the weight.

And so when Lando dropped by for the third time in a row that week, casually flopping on the couch beside you, your instincts began to hum a little louder.

You sat beside him with your knees curled under you, your laptop open on one side, a throw blanket tucked into your side, a matcha half-sipped on the coffee table. Lando was unusually quiet. His phone buzzed twice in quick succession, and you caught the screen flash: Oscar 🟢.

Lando’s thumb flew over the keyboard a little too fast. Your brows lifted.

"Who's got you smiling at your phone like that? New girlfriend I don’t know about?" you teased lightly, leaning toward him.

He looked up with a crooked grin, the one he always used when he was trying to cover something. "Just Oscar. Dumb memes."

You hummed but didn't say more, your gaze narrowing slightly before returning to your laptop screen.

But Lando knew you. Knew that when you got quiet like that, your thoughts were spinning.

Oscar, meanwhile, stood in the heart of a sleek, private boutique tucked in a quiet corner of Monte Carlo, sunlight bouncing off the glass cases as he stared, once again, at a selection of rings that all felt just off. Beautiful, yes. But none of them whispered your name to him.

He glanced at the time. Lando was keeping you company, but he couldn't keep disappearing. You weren't oblivious. You noticed things. Oscar hated lying to you, even if it was for something good.

That was when Pietra walked in — tall, elegant in her own right, with long waves of dark hair and a casual grace that made her look like she belonged in Monaco. She was warm and quick-witted, and Max Fewtrell’s long-time girlfriend. Oscar had never thought to introduce her to you — too many timing misses, travel overlaps — but today, she was his salvation.

"You really owe Lando for this," Pietra said with a teasing tone, sliding her sunglasses onto her head. "Max says hi, by the way. He was going to come but bailed when he realized you were still shopping. He said you're worse than his sister."

Oscar laughed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know it’s taking forever, but I need it to be perfect."

Pietra looked at him for a moment, then softened. “That’s why she’s going to say yes.”

Oscar glanced down at the tray, a set of dainty rings catching Pietra’s eye. She picked one up, holding it to the light. “What about this one?”

He looked.

And for a moment, his world stopped.

It was a cushion-cut solitaire, resting on a delicate rose gold band with a tiny crescent of opals nestled into the undergallery — a barely-there detail, but one Oscar remembered you had swooned over in a passing comment about “moonlight jewelry” once in a boutique window.

His breath caught.

“This is it,” he whispered.

Back at the flat, Lando stood abruptly from the couch, stretching in a too-casual way. "Hey, wanna go for a walk? Get out of the house, stretch our legs?"

You looked up at him. "You’ve been awfully persistent about spending time with me lately."

Lando froze.

You narrowed your eyes.

“I mean—” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Oscar’s just been out a lot, and I thought maybe you were lonely or something.”

You raised a brow, standing up slowly. “Are you hiding something from me?”

Lando gave a helpless laugh, wide-eyed, nervous, and terrible at lying.

“I swear to god,” you said, half-serious, “if this is some kind of Bachelor scheme and there’s a camera crew hiding behind the balcony curtains—”

He threw a pillow at you.

But even as you laughed, some part of your heart fluttered — a tiny bloom of nervous hope — wondering, without saying it aloud: What if?

And somewhere across town, Oscar held the ring in his hand, chest rising with a quiet certainty.

Soon, he thought.

Not too soon to rush.

But soon enough to make you his forever.

Oscar had never been good at slowing down — not when it came to racing, not when it came to you. But today, in that softly lit boutique nestled in the quieter quarter of Monte Carlo, time felt like it paused around him.

He stood across the glass counter, the velvet tray beneath the ring doing nothing to dim its quiet beauty. The cushion-cut diamond sparkled under the overhead lights, the rose gold catching the soft warmth of the afternoon sun filtering through the windows. And then… the undergallery. The tiny opal crescents—just like moonlight, just like you described once in a whisper, not even realizing he was listening.

But he always was.

Pietra leaned in beside him with a little gasp of awe, her perfectly manicured fingers slipping the ring onto her own hand. “Oscar,” she said softly, holding her hand out in the light. “This is so her. Delicate but not dull. It feels like her, doesn’t it?”

Oscar smiled. Not just with his lips — with something deeper, steadier, full of quiet emotion.

“I can already see her face,” he said, voice low. “I know the smile she’ll give me. The one where her eyes crinkle, and she tries not to cry but absolutely fails.”

Pietra laughed softly, turning her wrist to admire the way the light danced off the gem. “She’s going to cry. But only after she threatens to kill you for making her wear mascara.”

Oscar chuckled, heart warm and full. It felt good to have someone like Pietra here. She wasn’t just helping — she was grounding him. She had that calm, older-sister kind of energy, and Oscar had grown to appreciate that in the moments when nerves would usually get the better of him.

What neither of them noticed — focused entirely on the sparkle of commitment and the gentle way they spoke about love — was the quiet click of a shutter.

A passerby, someone too nosy for their own good, had spotted them through the storefront window. Snapped a photo. A girl trying on a ring. A guy smiling at her. In Monaco, of all places. Gossip didn’t need context, not in this city.

The image would slip onto the internet before either of them even left the boutique.

—

Back in your flat, none of that existed yet.

The world was simpler. Safe.

You and Lando had abandoned any plans of going out for the night, content with messy hair, pajama bottoms, and a pizza box open between the two of you on the couch. A cheesy romcom flickered on the screen — one of those so-bad-it’s-good movies that had probably been made on a budget smaller than your monthly grocery bill.

You rolled your eyes dramatically as the male lead delivered a particularly corny line.

“Oh my god,” you laughed, pointing. “That’s the third time he’s used a pun to ask her out.”

Lando leaned back, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe Oscar sits through these.”

You snorted. “He doesn’t. He always falls asleep halfway through, like clockwork. I turn and he’s just—” You mimed a snore, complete with a drooping head.

Lando burst into laughter, his phone buzzing once against his leg. He didn’t even check it — too immersed in the comfort of this moment. This was what he missed — you like this. Relaxed. Real. Laughing with him like you always used to before life got busy, before relationships and careers and grown-up things got in the way.

He passed you the last slice of pizza, still warm. “You’ve turned into a whole domestic goddess, you know that? Like... slippers and blanket cape level.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “Hey. I can still party if I want to. I just prefer wine nights and bad movies over... tequila and regret.”

Lando grinned, raising a toast with his soda. “To wine and bad movies.”

You clinked your can against his with a mock-serious nod. “To falling asleep in Oscar’s lap thirty minutes in.”

The laughter that followed felt easy, familiar — the kind that tugged you out of your head and into the moment. You had no idea what was unfolding just a few miles away. No clue of the photo. No clue of the conversation that had happened under soft lights and velvet trays.

For now, you were content. And Oscar, even unknowingly walking into a potential storm, was the same.

Because the ring — your ring — was finally nestled into a small, white box.

It only took a few hours — a handful of blissful, ignorant hours where everything had felt okay. Where laughter still echoed off the walls of your Monaco flat and the world outside hadn’t yet crashed into your peace.

You and Lando had ignored the buzzing of your phones for a while, passing it off as meaningless group chats or social updates. The TV blared louder in the background, the glow of the screen reflecting off your tired, happy faces as you sat wrapped in a blanket with the last bits of pizza crusts on the table.

But eventually, it was too much.

“Enough is enough,” you sighed with mild annoyance, grabbing your phone from the couch. Lando barely flinched, eyes still fixed on the movie, chuckling under his breath. It wasn’t until your breath hitched—sharp and confused—that his gaze slowly flicked toward you.

Your eyes didn’t leave the screen as your thumb scrolled, mouth parting in disbelief.

“Oscar Piastri caught ring shopping with Pietra Pilão?” you read aloud, voice cold and thin with disbelief.

Lando blinked, the words not processing immediately. “Wait—what?”

You turned the screen toward him with trembling fingers. There it was. The headline, the photo, the moment. A still frame of Oscar in the boutique, his smile gentle, genuine… Pietra trying on your ring. His eyes soft in a way you knew too well. A way that had always been reserved for you.

“Who the hell is Pietra?” you asked, voice shaking now.

Lando’s mouth opened but no words came. The blood drained from his face. “She’s—she’s Max’s girlfriend, I—she was just helping—wait, wait, you don’t think—”

“You knew he was seeing someone else?” Your voice cracked hard. You stood now, backing away from the couch as though the photo had burned into your palms.

“No! No—Y/N, he’s not! I swear, I would’ve told you. Oscar isn’t like that. He’s—he wouldn’t—he’s not—”

You shoved the phone closer to him. “Then what is this, Lando?! You don’t look at a woman like this unless you love her!” Your voice broke mid-sentence, and your breath hitched in your throat as tears welled up, unrelenting and bitter.

Lando shook his head, desperate. “It’s not what it looks like. You know how things get twisted. The media doesn’t care if it’s real or not. It just looks juicy so they push it. Don’t let them ruin what you two have.”

You wiped at your face angrily, pacing now. “He’s been leaving early. Always distracted. Always tired. And I blamed myself—thought maybe I wasn’t enough or maybe he was overwhelmed. But this? This is why? And you want me to bite my tongue?!”

Your voice cracked again, this time from somewhere deeper, more raw. Lando stepped forward, hand outstretched as if to comfort you, but you recoiled.

Across the city, Oscar had just left the quiet side street boutique, the little white ring box tucked safely into his jacket pocket, protected like a secret he couldn’t wait to share.

He was humming under his breath on the walk up to the flat, the crisp sea breeze catching strands of his hair. He pictured you waiting inside — maybe working on your laptop, maybe teasing Lando about something dumb. He smiled at the thought, unlocking the door quietly.

But the moment he stepped inside, the air was different. Thick. Heavy.

He heard it before he saw it. Your sobs — raw and jagged — echoing faintly from the hallway.

His shoes hit the floor as he rushed in, panic slamming into him like a wall. “Y/N?”

Then he saw Lando. Standing still. Quiet. Guilty.

Oscar’s heart dropped like a stone.

“Did you hurt her?!” he snapped, voice edged with protective anger.

Lando flinched. “Mate—wait, just calm down—”

“Don’t blame him for hurting me!” your voice rang out, breaking and sharp. Oscar turned toward you just in time to see the devastation etched across your face. Your eyes were red, glassy. Your hands trembled at your sides.

“You were ring shopping with another woman,” you said, almost in disbelief. “And you looked at her with so much love.”

Oscar’s entire body froze. “Wait. Wait—you saw that?” His voice was strangled, a mix of shock and immediate horror. His hand went instinctively to his jacket pocket where the ring box still sat, untouched.

He whipped around to Lando, eyes wild. “You told her?!”

Lando shook his head quickly. “Wasn’t me! It’s online. It’s everywhere.”

Oscar’s breath left him in a single, ragged exhale as realization sank in.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out like this,” he said to you, stepping forward, desperate now. “That’s not—God, Y/N, that woman? Pietra? She’s not anyone to me. She’s Max’s girlfriend. She was just helping. Just helping pick a ring for you.”

You stood frozen, chest heaving. The words didn’t process at first. They felt too late. Too cruel. Or maybe too perfect — the way lies always sounded when you wanted to believe them.

Oscar took another step toward you, slow and pleading. “Please. Please look at me. You know me. You know I would never—”

Your hands covered your face, a sob escaping. He moved closer again, tentatively, reaching to pull them down, to see you, really see you.

The silence in the room was unbearable. Lando looked between you both, eyes filled with guilt and helplessness.

And Oscar — eyes glassy now too — held onto one thing.

That you hadn’t walked away yet.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The silence between you and Oscar had stretched the entire evening into something unbearable — heavy, tense, every second swollen with unsaid words and questions that circled your mind like vultures. You’d curled up on the couch long before the moon had risen high above the Monaco skyline, your body turned away from him, trying to fake sleep you weren’t getting.

Oscar sat alone at the edge of the bed for hours, eyes locked on the floor, his head resting in his hands as the weight of your silence suffocated him more than any headline ever could. He had given you space, knowing you needed time. But as the hours ticked by, something inside him twisted — he couldn't keep waiting. Not when you were only feet away but felt like a lifetime.

He stood and padded barefoot into the living room. The lights were dim, shadows falling soft across your figure, but even in the low light, he could tell — you weren’t asleep. Just still. Quiet. Hurting.

He stood in front of the couch, staring down at you.

“Come on, sleepyhead,” he said softly, his voice rough around the edges. “It’s getting late.”

You didn’t answer. You just curled deeper into the cushions, your arms wrapping tighter around your body like you were holding yourself together.

Oscar sighed. He knew you — really knew you — and he recognized this version of you: the one caught between fear and logic, love and pride. You weren't angry just to be angry. You were hurt. Confused. And worst of all — trying to shield yourself by pushing him away before he could really break your heart.

“You probably held her,” you muttered finally, voice muffled but sharp.

Oscar’s jaw tensed. “Come on, baby,” he said quietly, crouching down beside the couch. “Don’t be that way. You know that’s not fair.”

Your eyes stayed fixed on the armrest, on nothing in particular, but your voice trembled with more than just frustration. “I don’t know anything anymore. You say things like they’re easy to believe, but when I saw that photo—when I saw your face—” You cut yourself off, swallowing hard.

Oscar didn’t interrupt. He let the storm come. Let you say what you needed to.

“It was love, Oscar. You looked at her like she mattered. Like she was me. You can see it written all over your face. So maybe you didn’t mean it like that, but that’s what the world saw. That’s what I saw.”

Oscar closed his eyes for a moment, his chest rising and falling as he fought to keep his composure. When he opened them again, his gaze softened as he reached out, cupping your face gently in both hands, guiding you to look at him.

And for the first time all night — you did.

What you saw in his face was not guilt. Not lies. Not even frustration. It was raw, open, utterly honest love.

“You can choose not to believe me,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “You have every right to feel like this. But that photo? That moment? I was never looking at her, Y/N. I was watching someone try on the ring that I want to see on your hand. And the look you saw? That wasn’t for her. It was for the thought of you.”

You blinked, the tears rising again, thick and hot.

“I’ve had this planned since Miami,” he continued, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “Franco helped me there. He was the only one I trusted to get it right. But then he had to go home to Argentina, and I still hadn’t found your ring. So I asked Lando for help. Not because I didn’t want to be honest with you — but because I wanted it to be perfect. I didn’t want you to guess what I was planning. I didn’t want you to feel pressure.”

He paused, eyes flickering down for a moment before meeting yours again. “Lando couldn’t leave you without tipping you off. So Max offered. Then Pietra came instead. That’s all it was. A friend helping me pick the thing that’s supposed to sit on your hand for the rest of our lives.”

You stared at him, breathing uneven.

“I didn’t tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise, not a headline. And I swear to you, Y/N… I would never replace you. I wouldn’t survive a life without you in it. You mean everything to me.”

The tears finally slipped free, rolling down your cheeks as Oscar brushed them away with both thumbs, his touch gentle, reverent.

“I love you,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “And I will ask you to marry me. But not like this. Not out of fear or to fix a misunderstanding. I’ll do it when your heart is calm and your mind is at peace. But right now… I just want you back in bed with me. Please. Come lay with me. You don’t have to talk, you don’t have to forgive me yet, just… be near me.”

He lowered his forehead against yours, voice barely above a whisper.

“My arms have never held anyone else… and they never will. They only know you.”

For a long moment, you didn’t speak. You just breathed with him. Listened to the heartbreak in his voice and the trembling devotion behind every word.

Then, slowly, you nodded — not in full surrender, but in exhaustion. In aching trust. He stood and reached for your hand. And this time, you took it.

You let him lead you to bed, where the silence that followed was different. Not heavy. Not sharp.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Time, they say, softens the edges of even the deepest pain — and slowly but surely, it did.

Your heart, once heavy with doubt, now beat steady and light again, reassured by Oscar’s love, his honesty, and the unwavering way he remained beside you in silence, in understanding, and in forgiveness. He didn’t push you to forget — only asked you to remember the truth of who he was, and what he meant when he said he loved you. And you did. God, you did.

Oscar, for his part, was swift and clear with the public — not with anger, but with the calm of someone protecting something precious.

"She and I want our relationship to be private. While you all know we're dating, and while some moments are shared in photos, what we are like at home and away from media... that’s ours. And we want to keep it that way." One simple, composed statement that shut down the rumors with grace. No drama. No need for defense. Just truth.

It wasn’t long before Lando reached out. Your apology was tearful, met with a warm and understanding hug that said all is forgiven even before words were spoken. He introduced you — properly this time — to his friends. Pietra’s arms wrapped around you in an instant when you met her.

“Oscar is in love with you,” she said with an earnestness that nearly brought you to tears. “Please don’t let someone behind a screen ruin what you two have. I saw the way he looked at that ring. You were the only thing on his mind.”

And you believed her.

So when your anniversary came around, Oscar didn’t even hesitate. “Anywhere,” he said, eyes shining. “Anywhere you want.”

You remembered a moment months ago — Fernando teasing you about Spain, tossing out casual restaurant suggestions in that charming way of his that never felt quite casual at all. Something about Spain had stuck with you — maybe the way he described the sunsets, or the late-night streets lit with music and warmth. Maybe it was how far it felt from the noise. The rumors. The past.

So Spain it was.

It felt like breathing again.

No flashes of cameras. No whispers. Just you and Oscar, hand in hand beneath golden skies and blooming balconies. Spain welcomed you like a secret, like it had waited for this moment just for you two. You updated Lando in brief, teasing texts — mostly pictures of food, the occasional photo of Oscar caught mid-bite, and even one blurry selfie of you both on a park bench, laughing.

Lando, as expected, responded with endless emojis and one message that had your face turning red hot:

“Wear protection, please. No mini-Piastris yet, I’m not ready to be fake uncle material.” You showed Oscar. His ears turned red before yours did.

“We’re never telling him anything again,” he muttered, hiding his face in your shoulder.

And then… came the night.

That one night in Spain. Your favorite so far. It had rained earlier, so the streets were glossy beneath your shoes, catching reflections of old streetlamps and flickering lights from warm, rustic windows. You and Oscar had just finished dinner on a tucked-away terrace, where guitar strings floated down from somewhere above, and the candle between you two refused to go out despite the breeze.

The night air was perfect. Cool enough to make you inch closer to him, warm enough to never want a jacket between you. The moon above was shy, peeking through clouds like it was giving you privacy.

Oscar’s hand never left yours.

"Come with me," he said after dinner, his voice low — almost like he didn’t want to disturb the night.

You followed him down a quieter path, away from the cafés and people, down toward a small garden square you didn’t even realize existed — all stone benches and overgrown vines, ivy twisting around old wrought-iron fencing, and a little fountain still bubbling lazily in the middle.

And then he stopped walking.

You turned, puzzled, about to ask what was wrong.

But then… he let go of your hand, took a slow breath — and dropped to one knee.

Your heart stopped.

His hand reached into his jacket and pulled out the small velvet box, but he didn’t open it yet. His eyes never left yours. They were glassy, a little nervous — but full of love. Steady. Certain.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice low but clear, “I’ve had this moment in my head for a long time.”

You covered your mouth with your hand, tears already rising as he continued.

“I remember the first time I realized I was in love with you. It wasn’t dramatic. No fireworks. No big, cinematic moment. It was simple. We were in the kitchen. You were wearing one of my old shirts, humming to yourself and burning the toast because you were too busy dancing around. And I remember standing there and thinking—‘I want this forever. I want her forever.’”

You laughed through your tears, a broken little sound, heart twisting.

He smiled, a bit shy, a bit overwhelmed, but still holding himself steady.

“Since then, I’ve watched you grow, and I’ve grown with you. We’ve had good days. Bad ones too. But no matter where life has taken us, I’ve always known… I don’t want to go through any of it unless you’re right there next to me.”

He looked down for a moment, then back up again, his voice cracking slightly.

“You’ve seen me at my best and at my worst. You’ve believed in me even when I doubted myself. And you never asked me to be anything more than who I am. That’s what made me choose you. Not just for now. Not just for the good moments. But for life.”

He opened the box.

The ring shimmered in the dim light — simple, delicate, timeless. Just like you.

“I don’t want a flashy life. I don’t need perfection. I just want us. I want late-night talks and sleepy mornings. I want your laugh echoing through the house. I want quiet Sundays and chaotic dinners. I want a life where I get to love you every single day and never have to let you go.”

He took a slow breath, his voice softening.

“So, Y/N… will you do me the greatest honor of my life — and marry me?”

You were already on your knees before you realized it, hands on his face, tears streaking your cheeks.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice shaking with emotion. “Yes, Oscar. Yes.”

He slipped the ring onto your finger with trembling hands, then pulled you into him, forehead resting against yours as you both smiled through tears.

You kissed him like you were promising him forever — because you were.

And in that quiet corner of Spain, beneath a sky full of stars and a garden full of memory, the future officially began.

☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★

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#f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #oscar piastri x fem!reader #oscar piastri #f1 angst #formula 1 fanfic #f1 headcanons #formula 1 x reader

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thetrasha · 29 days ago

Note

I don't usually make requests, but even though I know you've been told this before, I won't hold back from saying that I love the way you write the characters and, well, I love your writing in general!

I wanted to request something about the Straw Hats and how their ideal partner would be like.

(I don't know if this comes off as too vague, I just need more of your writing, please.)

Thank you so much, anon ╰(*°▽°*)╯ I'm glad you trust me with your request!! And I appreciate your support - more than you know, in fact 🥺Glad you enjoy my silly blog and want more. Luckily, I'm here to deliver...

And don't worry, I love vague asks, it gets the creative juices flowing :D Hope you like this one~~

PS. This is based on this post

Ideal Types

STRAW HAT EDITION

Law, Ace, Sabo, Shanks, Buggy version here

LUFFY

Luffy needs someone who…

isn’t afraid of rediscovering the world and in turn themselves

can be the voice of reason sometimes

feels rather than thinks

is open-minded, spontaneous and authentic

Luffy can help you cope with these character flaws:

awkwardness

naivete

timidness

An absolute dealbreaker would be…

dishonesty and apathy

Luffy sees you and, at first glance, just knew that you were going to be very dear to him. The world hasn’t been kind to you, even if you try to downplay your circumstances. You claim that others have it worse, that you’re not at all special, that you don’t have what it takes, but he knows. Oh, he knows that you do. You’re waiting to be liberated, to live life on your terms. He’s giving you that chance because he sees more than just potential in you – he sees expanding horizons when he’s looking into your eyes, he sees a soul that rivals the depth of the ocean, and he sees unimaginable treasure in you.

ZORO

Zoro needs someone who…

is self-assured, ambitious and humble

knows their place in the world or is relentlessly trying to find it

is an introvert rather than an extrovert

cares deeply about him and others

Zoro can help you cope with these character flaws:

pride

stubbornness

self-sacrificial tendencies

An absolute dealbreaker would be…

a weak sense of self and no desire to self-improve

Zoro sees you and… sees himself. Well, a less hardened version of him; you still have that softness about you, you have vulnerability and you’re not yet frayed, pulled apart by the seams, …you’ve had to carry your battle scars, yes, but they made you stronger, inspired you to take on the world, not shut yourself away from life experience. Your dream and your kindness coexist… Zoro thinks that’s fascinating. Your care for him proves your bravery – you are fond of the man who rarely talks, rarely reciprocates touch, who rarely… lives for himself, but you still see him for who he is and believe it’s worth protecting. You’re so admirable.

USOPP

Usopp needs someone who…

seeks harmony

hasn’t given up on the world and wants to make it better

has no tolerance for cruelty

is cheerful, dedicated and forgiving

Usopp can help you cope with these character flaws:

cowardice

anxiety

envy

An absolute dealbreaker would be…

choosing cowardice over doing what’s right and ingratitude

Usopp sees you and knows you’re someone who’s been burnt too many times. People don’t have nearly as much empathy for your situation as they say they have – believe him, he knows all about it. They can be so unnecessarily cruel, hostile for no reason… He understands why you’re like this and he feels an immense amount of protectiveness towards you, knowing that he can lift you up and show you that anyone can make it. You just have to believe in yourself! And if that’s too hard for you right now, he can believe in you for you, he doesn’t mind. One day you’ll stand beside him and you’ll thank the other for the things you’ve taught one another.

SANJI

Sanji needs someone who…

doesn’t judge other people prematurely

is deeply empathetic and acknowledges other people’s struggles

sees through anyone’s facade

is sweet, loving and reliable

Sanji can help you cope with these character flaws:

being too trusting

overthinking

insecurity

An absolute dealbreaker would be…

spite and being cold-hearted

Sanji sees you and feels seen. Nobody ever bothered to do things for him… just for the sake of taking some weight off his shoulders. It’s like your well-being depends on his own; he cannot fathom why anyone would want to spend time with him without expecting a favour or anything in return. And he desperately tries to pay you back with acts of service, but you just won’t budge. You tell him that this is what love’s like – it’s innocent and nurturing, a constant give and take. You respect him, which almost makes him cry. It’s a strange feeling… to be wanted without offering an arm and a leg, but he’s given you his heart anyway. Even without asking for it… you always had it, after all.

FRANKY

Franky needs someone who…

rejects rigid social structures

has something unconventional about them

has a strong sense of justice

is fun-loving, humorous and intelligent

Franky can help you cope with these character flaws:

self-destructive tendencies

deep regrets

scepticism/ distrust

An absolute dealbreaker would be…

greed and hubris

Franky sees you and thinks you’re enough just the way you are. You don’t have to change a thing about yourself. That fragile state you’re in – he’s here to mend it, slowly but surely. The world just didn’t appreciate your brilliance enough! You were just fine when you fit in because you’re one of the few people who could fell the system; that’s who you are at your core. You saw Franky and you saw a friend first, not a machine and certainly not a weapon. And as you slowly got to know him, you learnt to love both his human heart and the wires, pistons and cogs making it pump. You were hard-wired to reject yourself, but he’s here to tell you that you’re super awesome… well, until you learn to believe it.

BROOK

Brook needs someone who…

has a deep understanding of what it means to be lonely

is creative, funny and perceptive

feels like they are the odd one out

thinks rather than feels

Brook can help you cope with these character flaws:

feeling like you don’t belong anywhere

loneliness/ solitude

melancholy

An absolute dealbreaker would be…

disloyalty and small-minded thinking

Brook sees you and just intuitively knows that you’re his missing piece. You relate to his greatest source of pain, but you don’t let it keep you from living your own life, no, you use it as fuel to make your time on this Earth matter. You know just how precious time really is, so you are unapologetic in your pursuit of your own happiness, even if the path towards it isn’t exactly easy. It’d take him some time, but he wants to be the reason behind ever chuckle, every smile, every bit of affection you’re ready to offer. You’ve been so alone for so long, nobody has ever bothered to see you for who you are: You are vibrant and so worthy of being alive. It makes him appreciate the time he’s got now, too.

JINBE

Jinbe needs someone who…

is wise, mature and caring

is curious about other cultures and their customs, wants to understand the world

loves learning something new every day

recognises that one person cannot change the world – but doesn’t obey in advance either

Jinbe can help you cope with these flaws:

inability to find your purpose

feelings of inadequacy

pessimism and/ or nihilism

An absolute dealbreaker would be…

hypocrisy and hedonism

Jinbe sees you and knows you’re meant to be something great, you just need a helping hand and some words of encouragement. Maybe that’s what you’re lacking – a strong support system. He’ll gladly provide that for you, just to see you thrive right next to him. It’s strange; he thought he would never find someone quite like you, everybody has their charm, but you were introspective and self-aware. With him, you can put most of your worries to rest. You don’t have to adapt to getting the short end of the stick anymore, you don’t have to be there for everyone only to get nothing in return. He makes sure that you’ll always have someone to lean on and cry with.

#one piece #one piece fluff #one piece x reader #op x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #usopp x reader #sanji x reader #franky x reader #brook x reader #jinbe x reader #x reader #thetrasha writes #thetrasha requests #👽 anon

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tteokdoroki · 2 years ago

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☆༉ — YUUJI ITADORI. isn’t it weird? how love never changes.

about. no matter what anyone says, yuuji itadori’s love for you is unwavering and he hopes that you’ll never see a reason to change. not for anyone, not even him. (1K)

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, characters are aged up to 20s and in college, weird gf and jock bf, yuuji is a jock and has obnoxious teammates, reader is an introvert and wears glasses, selfship coded i fear, fem!reader.

“itadori, don’t you think your girlfriend is a little.. weird?”

the pink haired jock blinks once, then frowns as he tugs a fresh shirt over his head — practice with his soccer team had ran a little longer than anticipated and he didn’t feel like coming home to you, his girlfriend, in a stinky old shirt.

yuuji’s not sure when the topic of locker room talk had switched onto him and his love life but he cares enough to bite — not about to let his teammates talk smack about his girl. “where’d you get that idea from?”

another teammate speaks up. “when she comes to your games, she wears your sweatshirts but doesn’t cheer for you at all.”

“she’s just shy, nothing wrong with that.” yuuji counters.

“whenever we hang out at the after partie she’s always… clinging onto you… doesn’t drink with any of us.”

“i told you, she’s a little shy,” he stands up a little straighter this time, narrowing his eyes. “and parties aren’t for everyone. she might not like them but she’s there to support me. shouldn’t that be enough?”

“but dude…” someone else speaks up. “don’t you find any of that strange? like she’s just… weird.”

yuuji can’t get home fast enough after that. he almost falls to pieces when he sees you singing and shuffling your way through the cupboards in his dorm kitchen — making yourself a snack. he loves it when you stay over and he gets to watch you like this, so calm and at ease in his space. he feels grateful to even be sharing it with you.

weird isn’t a word that yuuji itadori would use to describe his girlfriend.

he finds you intriguing. your relationship is still new, so all of the differences between you both interest him beyond belief. each time he discovers a new habit of yours (like the way you forget to take your glasses off when you sleep) or a fact about your life before college, or finds out something obscure relating to your hobbies and interests… yuuji can’t help but to fall in love with you all over again. like an astronomer who’s searching for the secrets of the universe, the pink haired jock wants to know every interesting little detail that makes you, you.

that’s created the very person he loves today.

“please never change,” yuuji breathes against the back of your head once he’s home. you can’t even comprehend the speed at which he’s dropped his gym back before he’s wrapped himself around you in the same manner that a boa constrictor would. only more affectionate. “and if you do, let me change with you.”

being this close to itadori, you can smell his baby-fresh soap and the tinge of sweat from his work out. you can feel the strength of his arms as they squeeze you close from behind — like he’ll never let you go. he makes you feel loved even when it’s not on purpose, you go your every waking moment cared for and adored by yuuji itadori. it’s always subconscious, unwavering and steady. your love is stable like that, never dampened from those outside of the two of you — that much will never change.

“that’s a big ask, yuu.” comes your contented hum, but you don’t stop your actions — continuing to make your snack while the pink haired jock squeezes you tight. as if to become one with you. “people change all the time.”

you hold up a hand behind you and he sucks the peanut butter from your thumb eagerly. “i know, but i don’t want what anyone else says about you or us to make you change,” he mumbles petulantly against the shell of your ear, trying to find the right words as he tucks his face into your neck. “you’re perfect to me, as you are.”

it’s cute that he reminds you of such a trivial little thing. those big brown eyes of yuuji’s see perfection in all of your flaws. he loves you so much you wonder if how much you feel for him even compares.

“what’s gotten into you?” you giggle, spinning in his arms to stand on the tips of your toes �� pressing a soft kiss to the point at which your boyfriend’s jaw meets his neck. it’s all you can reach. “did something happen?”

yuuji hesitates for a moment, lips pursed and honey-glazed eyes cast to the side. he would never lie to you, that’s not in his nature — but he’d never want to hurt your feelings either. “the guys…the guys on the team said some stuff about us today,” his voice trails off and his hands trail upwards, dipping underneath the jersey of his that you wear to draw circles into your waist using his rough thumbs. he figures it’s best to tell you before one of his teammates let it slip and hurt your feelings. he would rather die then let that happen. “they… they think you’re weird and that… that we’re too different.”

“o-oh.”

a flash of pain comes with the territory of yuuji’s honesty, but he’s quick to soothe it as though he’s running your burn under a stream of cool water. “but i like you. like…really really like you,” the words rush out while his eyes stay serious and set in stone. your boyfriend grasps both of your hands firmly before you can even think to cry or pull away.

yuuji is there and he is constant and that is never changing. not for anyone, except for you. “and i like all of the funny things about you. that you’re a little quiet, that you’re always by my side, that you leave me notes in my gym bag or share your celebrity crushes with me. i like you for you. even if you’re a little weird — then…then i am too!”

his hands, strong and yet so soft, traverse up to your round cheeks — tilting your head up to face him. “please don’t ever change because of what people say,” yuuji repeats tenderly, his lips finding the crown of your head in a gentle kiss. he stays there, like a magnet on metal and the world stands still for a moment. remaining the same, no longer changing, so that yuuji itadori can love you as is. “the way you are right now, it’s everything to me.”

itadori only moves when you tip your head back to get a better look at him, he looks down at you through his unfairly long lashes — brown eyed gaze latching onto yours while your hearts sync up, beating to the same drum. “i’ll never change, as long as you promise to always love me like this.”

“i’ll love you the same way that i always have. like i’m the luckiest guy in the world, yeah?” he laughs and you smile — because it’s hard to be upset when yuuji is around, and protects your love so genuinely.

you lean up and he meets you half way — pressing a slow and lingering kiss to the swell of your lips, wrapping his arms around you once again as you away to a silent tune in his tiny dorm kitchen.

change is inevitable of course. the two of you will grow and become different people than you are right now — but you will always find your way back to the beautiful love that you hold.

much like a butterfly that blossoms into something beautiful too.

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weneeya · 4 months ago

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shy shy shy m.list | rules

pairing. haikyuu x reader

characters. bokuto, kuroo, akaashi, kageyama

note. HAIKYUU IS SO BACK omg you can't imagine how happy i am to know that i'm going to see my boys on screen for more time!! ofc i had to write with them to celebrate <3 please request with haikyuu more and keep going for much longer!

Bokuto

Having a crush on someone as shining as Bokuto was difficult, you had to admit it. It was none of his fault, of course ; you couldn’t blame him for being such an extrovert. It was almost like a joke to have someone as introverted as you wanting to stand by his side. But how could it be different? Everything about Bokuto was absolutely amazing.

The real problem was how oblivious the boy was. You weren’t the best at sending signals, that was for sure, but Bokuto didn’t understand any of them, not even the most obvious ones. You were starting to think that there was no way this could work ; but you would never be able to admit anything out loud, while looking right into his eyes.

You were both walking together to the gymnasium after your class. He was as excited as ever, claiming that he couldn’t wait to show you the new tricks he learnt so you would see how great of a player he was. Your eyes were never leaving his face ; it was like you weren’t able to look away even if you wanted to. Something about him was simply dragging you in.

Until Bokuto noticed when he turned his head to take a look at you. He tilted his head to the side, raising his eyebrows a little. “Something’s wrong?” He asked bluntly, and you swore you could feel your heart about to explode in your chest. Your face began to burn almost immediately as you looked away, stuttering a few unintelligible words.

You had stopped in your path, and so he did a few steps ahead of you. He crossed his arms on your chest, apparently understanding your few words about being sorry or anything. “You’re great y’know. You shouldn’t look down on yourself like this.”

It was always like this with him. Either he was the most oblivious guy on Earth, or he was saying the right words way too easily, like it was nothing for him. You looked up at him, nodding slightly with the hint of a smile, which made Bokuto’s smile come back wider than before. “It’s better! Come watch me play now!”

And he walked back to the gym with his prideful smile while you were almost melting behind him. You didn’t know if you’d be able to confess to him one day, but if something was sure, it was that Bokuto Koutarou would be the death of you.

Kuroo

You were well aware of how much Kuroo loved to tease you. It seemed to be his favorite game since the two of you grew closer. The thing was that you were the most introverted person he ever met, and his best friend was Kenma. It wasn’t exactly that you were introverted, but you really were so shy. It made your reactions to his teasing so adorable, he couldn’t help himself.

It didn’t annoy you, but you knew sometimes it made you hesitate about doing some things. You were always hesitant about initiating stuff, but knowing he would tease you made you doubt a bit more. It wasn’t his fault, it simply was your brain torturing yourself. You knew that he would never do anything to make you uncomfortable.

You were sitting in the gym while he was training with his team, waiting for him to finish. A small notebook on your knees, your eyes were focused on his movements and how good he looked while playing. It was probably the moments you saw him being the most serious and focused.

You quickly grabbed a pen in your bag and, maybe a bit too naturally, you began to sketch some small doodles of Kuroo playing volleyball. You were so absorbed by what you were doing that you didn’t notice the team taking a break and Kuroo walking to you.

He glanced above your shoulder, a grin appearing on his lips. “Am I looking this good?” He asked, and you jumped slightly because of the surprise. You quickly hid your notebook, turning around to look at him with your face all red. Of course, he had to see you doing this. You wanted to disappear in a hole and never appear again.

He chuckled a bit, taking a sip of water from his bottle. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was flattered that you were taking him as a model for your drawings. With how shy you were, he was sometimes wondering about how you felt about him. Yes, he was scared you might ending up disliking him because of his teasing or else.

He quickly pushed away those thoughts when he saw your cute expression while you were trying to explain yourself while stuttering, which made him grin a bit more. He pinched your cheek, back to teasing you while you trying to push him away while getting redder each second. Teasing you really was his favorite game.

Akaashi

Holding hands shouldn’t be so complicated, you thought to yourself. You always had troubles initiating physical touch, yes, but a simple hold shouldn’t wake you up at night thinking about it. Akaashi was a sweet guy, but you couldn’t help being scared about how he could react if you decided to hold his hand in public. Right, you were together, like in a relationship, but still! What if he didn’t want you to? You wouldn’t be able to look at yourself again if you got brushed off like this.

It was a calm afternoon and you were walking in a peaceful street with Akaashi, simply enjoying the sun and having a small walk. He wanted to go to the library, and you didn’t refuse when he asked you to come with him. But now, all your mind could think about was how you wanted to hold his hand without being able to do anything.

You were side by side, your eyes drifting down to his fingers from time to time as the idea stayed in your mind. In a burst of courage, your fingers slightly brushed his knuckles in a failed attempt before you moved them away without grabbing his hand. Except that your fingers didn’t have the time to run away, being caught back by Akaashi’s hand.

He looked at you with a light smile, his hand giving yours a gentle squeeze. You felt the tip of your ears burning a little when you met his gaze, but a soft smile quickly appeared on your lips. It didn’t need any words, because Akaashi could read you like an open book and you knew his eyes well enough to understand anything without a word.

Perhaps holding hands wasn’t so hard in the end.

Kageyama

He was bad at reading people. He never really learnt, and no matter how hard he was trying, he always ended up having some trouble understanding reactions. It was getting better, thanks to his team ; but when it came to you, Kageyama was completely lost. Sometimes he wondered if you weren’t hating him, because he swore you were avoiding him.

The reality was that you were awfully intimidated by him, and you were scared about what your heart was telling you each time you met his eyes. He didn’t seem to be someone really mean, but he really seemed difficult to approach. At least, for someone as afraid of people as you, it seemed impossible.

But Kageyama liked you. He knew it, he talked about it with his senpais and they all told him that it was this. So why were you running away every time he tried to talk to you alone? It was a bit frustrating, he had to admit it.

You knew it wasn’t a solution, but what were you supposed to do? Face your feelings? No way. Except that he didn’t give you the choice. One afternoon, while you were walking to the gymnasium to give something to Hinata, you got stopped by Kageyama with his usual neutral almost mean natural face.

“Do you hate me?” His words came out quickly, before you had the chance to leave, and they surprised you. You opened your eyes wide, shaking your head. “What? No!” You replied, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Then why are you avoiding me?” Oh. You couldn’t escape it this time.

You tried to align a few words, stuttering something about how you felt, how worried it made you. Kageyama didn’t understand everything, but he got the main idea : you were afraid about how he was feeling. Fine, he just had to be honest then. If it meant you would stop avoiding him, it was good.

“I like you too, so don’t avoid me,” he said and you simply looked into his eyes with your lips parted. Your face burned red, and the second after you were hiding it with your hands, saying he was an idiot. Did he do something wrong? Kageyama wasn’t sure, but at least, you were answering him now. He was happy.

thanks for reading <3

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dearsnow · 1 year ago

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YOUR BAR BOYFRIEND

- after being harassed by a drunken stranger, your bar boyfriend swoops in to save the day (bob floyd x fem!reader, fluff, reader is intended to be on the quieter/more introverted side, but if you’re not like that you can ignore that one line ⚠️ verbal sexual harassment, drinking).

PART 2

word count: 1,206

a/n - tell a friend to tell a friend… SHE’S BAAACKKKK!!!! i’m so glad to be back to writing, y’all have no idea how much i missed it. i’ll probably be a bit rusty until i find my rhythm, so please ignore the not-top-quality writing until then. also, feel free to send in requests or chat!!

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, I have a boyfriend.” You utter apologetically, side-stepping the arm of the man in front of you. He reeks of beer and a hard day’s work, his scruffy face all too unkept in the lighting of the bar. You can’t even fathom exactly why you’re in the bar in the first place- you’ve never been one to explore, but this man is making you feel like you never want to leave your house again.

Your eyes scan the room, but no one seems to notice your predicament. The bar is full of Navy men, surely one of them would be fine with pretending to help you. “C’mon, sugar, one drink. Thas’ all ya have to do. If it goes well, hey, I wouldn’t mind one fuck either.” He grins, winking. The hope that you held in your heart is quickly dissipating. “He don’t have to know.” You feel your stomach drop as he moves to grab your hand, but an firm grip shoves his fingers away instead.

“Honey, is this guy bothering you?” A voice behind you speaks. You quickly turn around.

“I… yeah.” You stutter. You’re staring right into the face of a guy in a uniform, his jaw set as he glares at the drunk through his glasses.

He moves in front of you, creating a physical barrier between you and the significantly shorter man. Relief floods you. “Then I think he’d better leave before someone kicks him out, huh?”

The intoxicated man rolls his eyes, but frantically shuffles out the door of the bar. His gait was evidently terrified.

The tension is pulled from your shoulders, and you unintentionally sigh. The guy with glasses turns around to face you. His expression is softer now that the threat is gone, and his concern is almost cute.

“Are you alright?” He asks. “I’m sorry for the pet name thing, but I overheard you and I couldn’t really just stand there and watch. I’m Bob, by the way, Bob Floyd.” He reaches his hand out for you to shake, and as you do, his hesitates through his rambling.

You smile at him. “Thank you, Bob, I’m fine. And I don’t mind.” His grip is firm but not crushing, just like his presence. You introduce yourself, and he nods like he’s desperate to commit the sound of your name to memory. The respectful tone is honestly a breath of fresh air with the raucous energy of the Hard Deck, causing your cheeks to be a few degrees warmer when you pull your hand away. Our of the corner of your eye, you can see him wipe his somewhat clammy hands on the sides of his pants.

“Also, I’m sorry for taking the place of your actual boyfriend. I assumed you just didn’t know where he was, so I stepped in.” His eyes search for your own, holding steady eye contact. They’re the prettiest shade of blue you’ve ever seen.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. I don’t actually have a boyfriend, but I thought a lie was the better choice. You saved me, and that’s all that matters.” Your voice has a certain breathy quality to it. You’ve completely transitioned from terror to being deeply attracted to the person who spared you an even more intense confrontation. Bob’s eyes widen just slightly.

He takes his hands away from his sides and motions to one of the tables in the corner, his face just the slightest bit pinker. “Would you want to sit down?”

You nod, and he leads the way. As he’s pulling out your chair for you, you can’t help but wonder how your night turned out this way. You went from having the worst night of your life to dizzily encountering the person you could only describe as being your bar boyfriend.

You just recently moved to this part of San Diego for a newfound job opportunity, completely unaware of your proximity to the Hard Deck and a Naval base. You didn’t know anyone or anything, and as someone who isn’t necessarily very outgoing, it was hard for you to adjust. Not even your coworkers were easy to make friends with, so you slowly became more and more isolated.

The bar was kind of your last resort. You didn’t expect to find anything great, and you still don’t know what compelled you to go, but some hidden part of you figured that at least you could get some form of entertainment. Finding Bob, though, you never expected.

Conversation feels easy with him. He seems like a quiet guy, but he knows exactly what to say to keep you talking, and he offers insights of his own that just further the subject you’re talking about. Words fly from your mouths, and you can say that you’ve never enjoyed talking more. You bounce from common topics like work and hobbies to deeper breakdowns of memories and experiences, your smile growing wider every second. You’re completely in a world that was built brick by brick for you and him.

You’re so lost in the moment that you don’t even notice the woman who rests her hand on the back of your chair until she speaks. “Bob, you of all people? Never would’ve expected you to abandon us for a pretty girl.”

Bob reddens as you turn to face her. “Sorry, Nat.”

She holds a hand out to you, which you shake. “Call me Phoenix. He’s my backseater, and apparently a lady killer tonight.”

Bob stands as Phoenix gives him a pointed look. “Sorry to steal him away from you, but he’s taken way too long of a break from our pool game. I’ll give him back to you later.”

“You say that like I’m a robot.” He grumbles, showing just a hint of disappointment at having to leave your conversation.

You wave him away. “Have fun, Bob. I’d better go anyways.”

“Wait-“ he starts as you stand up, “-could I give you my number first?”

You secretly cheer inside of your head. You nod, and he takes a pen out of his shirt pocket. “Here.” He mumbles, writing it on a spare napkin and handing it to you. His fingers brush over yours, sending electrifying sparks throughout your entire body. You could get used to this feeling, you think. His hand hovers for a split second before regretfully moving away. “It’s, uh, it’s up to you, but I’d really like it if you called or texted. I had a nice time with you.”

You tuck the napkin into your bag, eyes soft. Bob thinks he’s never seen a sight so beautiful- the sun is setting behind you, and it casts you in a golden light as your mouth quirks up. “Of course I will. I had a nice time with you too.”

Your voice is quiet, but a sound that he relishes all the same. He could’ve gotten lost in you if Phoenix wasn’t impatiently tapping her foot next to him.

She pulls him away, and though he knows he’s up for a lot of teasing, Bob can’t find it in himself to care. He just knows that he needs to see you again, and you know that no matter what, you’ll make it happen.

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happypopcornprincess · 6 months ago

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Under the Same Sky

Pairings - Joaquin Torres X fem!Reader (TFATWS AU)

Premise - You have your heart guarded for the longest time. But when you encounter a stranger on the same mission, will you be able to do the same?

Word Count - 4.5K

Warnings: Some strong language, references to Pop Culture, allusions to SMUT

a/n - I wrote this while I was falling in love with someone. This one is for everyone who ever fell in love, hope you guys have a happy ending that you truly deserve <3

Click here for Part 2

“I swear to God Barnes, if this is some kind of dipshit prank you are playing on me, I’ll give your number to that sweet server lady from Yori’s Japanese place and record your introverted ass trying to strike a conversation.” You grumbled into your phone as you locked your door and walked down the stairs of yours (and Buck’s) apartment building.

After making you spill your morning coffee over the couch while telling you about him evading the country, breaking Helmunt Zemo out from prison, going to Madripor and Karli threatening Sam’s family, he had the goddamn audacity to ask for your help with the entire situation.

You were, of course, rushing to Louisiana for Sarah and the kids, because afterwards you get to murder him in cold blood.

“If this wasn’t for Sam’s family in danger, I would not have asked for you. And by the way, I am not an introvert. That’s you. Now hurry up, my guy’s waiting.” his annoyingly calm voice spoke through the phone.

“Is your guy about to be a wrinkly old pervert trying to get high by speed walking?” you almost screamed, reaching the ground floor and pulling open the back door towards the alleyway. The chill air makes you shiver a bit, and you find yourself colliding with a person, “oof” you hear a muffled sound coming from him.

“I’m so sorry- I-“ you began to explain yourself, but the other person spoke up first, “y/n?”

Your hand hovered over the concealed weapon on your waist, “uh, yeah?” you murmur, taking a step back in caution wondering how he knew your name.

“Yeah, I found her.” He speaks into his cell and cuts the call.

Dressed in casual clothes, he held a duffle bag in one hand, his eyebrows raised as he was looking at you. He smiled, waved at you, and Bucky spoke into your ear, “found my guy?”

“This is your guy?” you said pointing at him.

Bucky only laughed, “meet us in Louisiana. Take care y/n.” he cuts the call. Bucky’s guy was not a wrinkly old pervert, but this insanely good-looking man with great posture and a warm smile.

And to your horror, he was hot.

His warm, sun-kissed complexion hinted at his Mexican heritage. His hair added an air of rugged charm and you swore you never saw anyone with eyes so dark brown that drew you in instantly.

“You are…” you extend your hand after shoving your phone in the pocket of your overcoat.

“Lt. Torres.” He grimaced, embarrassed, “Joaquin. Joaquin Torres.” He extends his hand.

You shake his hand and oh god why are his hands so warm!

“Marines?” you ask, trying not to think about his hands.

“Air Force, ma’am.” He says, stepping back for you to get out of the doorway.

“Please, just call me y/n.”

You fumbled with your bag as he raised his eyebrows, “let me take that for you.” He offered.

“Oh no, no it's fine.” You laughed out, and he raised his arms in defeat.

He was walking to the end of the alley beside you, cold air escaping his lips.

Pink, soft, how would they feel on your lips and…

You concentrate on walking, trying not to look at him where his neck met his shoulders and goddammit what is wrong with you y/n can you stop daydreaming about this guy?

What you missed while giving yourself a pep talk… was the smirk on Joaquin’s face.

---

The initial car ride was a bit silent, awkward conversation hanging in the air. But then, like magic, the tension dissolved. You stumbled upon a shared love for Power Rangers and the cartoons of our youth. Suddenly, you were deep in conversation, reminiscing about your childhoods, carefree and filled with the magic of childhood. Turns out he isn’t much older than you, just a two year difference.

His laughter was infectious. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners, his teeth flashing in a wide grin – it was a sound that felt warm and comforting, somehow. You found yourself leaning towards him, captivated by the way his lips curved into a smile, the way the light caught the gold flecks in his eyes. The familiar road seemed to stretch on forever.

Finally when we pulled onto the familiar, deserted road leading to Sam's house, two small figures came into view, standing near the porch.

“Auntie!” Cass and AJ sprinted to you as soon as you stepped out of the car.

“Heyyyy!” you laugh and fall back as they hug you with full force, “ugh, I missed you guys so much.”

“We missed you too!” AJ grinned as he refused to let go of you.

“Who's this?” Cass asked you, pointing towards Joaquin.

Among the excitement of meeting them, you almost forgot the poor guy. Joaquin stood next to the car awkwardly looking at you. You smile and introduce him, “guys this is my friend, Joaquin.”

“Hey.” He waved at Cass and AJ.

Cass looks at him with all seriousness, “Do you play Fortnight?”

Joaquin fumbled, “Yeah. A bit.”

“Cool.” They both replied in unison.

“Okay now let auntie breathe for a minute.” Sarah spoke as she walked towards you wearing an apron, clearly cooking for dinner.

You hugged her tight, meeting the family after so long, “Hey Sarah.”

You look towards Joaquin, how he was laughing with the kids. And then you look at Sarah, your soul sister, and how Bucky had asked you to break the news to her delicately, “Sarah, we need to talk.”

---

Sam and Sarah were your go to destination every summer.

You saw Cass and AJ grow up after the blip, and stayed with them when they needed help. You might not have the same blood, but they were your family.

They have stayed away from all the mayhem, until now.

You three sat down on the kitchen table and told her everything that you knew about the situation.

“Dear lord.” Sarah sighed as she held your hand, “You think these people… they will come here?

“There is a possibility, but Sarah, I swear I won’t let anything happen, okay?” You squeeze her hand, “We’re here for you and the kids.”

Joaquin spoke up, “We have made arrangements just in case things go south, I’d suggest you to be ready to move anytime.”

“Okay.” looking at the kids playing in the living room, AJ laughing as Cass plays on the console, “I can’t let them be hurt again Y/N, they’ve been through so much.”

“I know.” You look at Joaquin, he gives you a smile and nods, a silent acknowledgement of the promise you were making to Sarah.

You will keep them safe, and Joaquin will be there for you.

---

Starry night sky, the cool lakeside breeze, and the slanted roof of the Wilson residence.

You took a deep breath as you closed your eyes.

If this was six years ago, from the same spot you could hear Steve and Sam coming up with ideas to locate Bucky, Natasha and Clint in the backyard fighting over something stupid, Sarah and her late husband on the porch setting up the grill, and Wanda making things fly that made Baby AJ giggle.

You opened your eyes, but found only darkness ahead of you. That sliver of hope you had of watching your found family under one roof again was alive for five years… until the minute you saw Natasha didn’t return with Clint, Wanda not even looking in your direction at Tony’s funeral, and Steve going back in time without saying goodbye.

Your throat choked up trying not to cry as you recalled Natasha saving you from the hell called Red Room. She bought you up, taught you everything you know, she was the reason you were alive in the first place. Natasha was your sister in every sense, and she was taken away by fate.

Silently crying, you whisper a prayer off into the night.

“Is this seat taken?” you wiped off your eyes as you heard Joaquin.

He was standing on the attic window, two beers in hand. You shrug as he takes a seat next to you, handing you a beer.

“How did you find me?” you ask him.

“I didn’t actually,” he answers, “I just wanted a place to think for a while.” You notice the tension in his shoulders, he was trying too hard to act cool while something was clearly bothering him.

“Spit it out.” you nudge his shoulder with yours.

His deep brown eyes look at you as you take a sip, and he confesses, “I got a call before I came here. My Abuela.” He takes a deep breath, “She’s cooking up a feast for the local homeless shelter, and I know, I know she’s not well because her voice is raspy and she’s breathing too hard and I begged her to sit this one out, but she’s one stubborn woman, won’t even listen to her only grandson.”

You shock him with a laugh, looking at the dew on your bottle, “Sounds like someone I used to know.”

“Your ex?” he nudges your shoulder playfully.

You laugh, “My sister actually,” recalling flashes of red hair chasing you around the Avengers compound, “yeah, she was a force to be reckoned with.”

“She passed away a year ago.” You admit it out loud, it felt weird to talk about her in the past tense.

You feel his body go rigid beside you, “I’m sorry, I thought…”

“It’s alright.” You look at him, and smile involuntarily, “Natasha was more of a mother to me than a sister, and I can’t believe I’m saying it out loud but… I miss her.”

He acknowledges you silently. But after some time, you hear it in his voice; the moment it hits him, “Natasha… as in… Natasha Romanoff?”

It made you laugh; his jaw wide open in shock, eyes wide. He looked like his eyes would come out of his head. “I don’t go by Y/N Romanoff, for people to react like that.” You point at him and he closes his mouth.

“How… I didn’t know… but you two-”

“- look different?” you bring your knees closer, wrapping your arms around them, “I was adopted.”

“ohhhh.” He drew out the exclamation, taking his sweet time not knowing what else to say.

“She saved me from the Red Room. Took me under the wing, sent me to High School… God knows how that went.” You laughed recalling the absolute menace you were during your teens. “If there was mischief in school, my name was somehow related. And Nat was always there to get me out of it. Except for that one time I blew up the toilets to rebel against the dress code… said I deserved getting suspended.” The fight you had afterwards… Steve and Tony had to interfere or else you both would have torn each other’s heads off.

“My mom once got a call from the local ER when I was twelve.” He spoke up, looking at the stars and a smile spreading on his face, “I drove my bike off of the road and straight into the canal, and hit my head pretty hard. She was mad as hell and Abuela won’t stop fussing about me. I was grounded for the entire semester, but every night we three would sit in the living room to watch whatever was on Cartoon Network.”

There was sadness laced in every word of his, “That was the last summer I had with her. She passed away a few months later.”

You could not say anything.

You knew exactly how he was feeling right this moment, that empty feeling inside your chest left behind after somebody’s gone. You silently hold his hand, acknowledging the hurt he must be going through.

“I must be the last person you want to hear this from, but, know that the hurt you’re feeling right now, y/n,” he gently grasps your hand, “it’s just all the love you have for the person you lost. I don’t want to say it gets easier, but you get better at letting it out over time.”

“Thank you, Joaquin.”

He smiles, taking a sip from his bottle glancing at you. Dark brown pupils looking right into yours.

Damn he’s pretty.

Your heart dropped a beat, a funny feeling in your chest unblurring the next second.

The first thing Natasha and Clint taught you was how to read people. You could tell what was going on in someone’s head just by looking at their subconscious cues. A voice in your head pointing out everything you need to know about them.

It was quite silly to be honest, that voice inside your head that had been quiet for a while now, was screaming at you for not looking at what was right in front of you…

You liked him.

---

“I was not expecting that.” You speak into Sam’s empty room, standing on the doorway with Joaquin.

Cass and AJ had separate rooms, Sarah had hers, and the only empty one was Sam's, which you were to share with Joaquin.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” He says unprompted.

“No, no, Joaquin, we traveled for the entire day. We’re both tired. We can share the bed.” He was too tall to fit on the couch anyways.

He picked his bags and settled in, “You sure?”

“Yeah. It’s fine. No worries.”

Worries, y/n, you’re not doing this out of goodwill. I mean… His arms? Just imagine how they would look wrapped around your-

You let out an internal scream and started unpacking your luggage before you did something scandalous, freshened up in the washroom and returned to the room to see him lying on one side of the bed, his back to you, wearing only sweatpants and a white vest. Your eyes were drawn straight to his biceps, they looked like they belonged to some sculpture in the dim lamplight.

Someone works out.

You immediately slapped a hand on your mouth realizing you said that out loud. Frozen with embarrassment, you waited to see if he heard that.

When you were certain he didn’t, you took your place on the other side, and were immediately knocked out by the exhaustion.

---

Next Day

You woke up to the smell of pancakes and the shouts of AJ and Cass from the backyard. You stretched out, thinking of any tasks you had to do today. You'd helped Sarah pack a go-bag yesterday and set up the alarms around the house. The only task left was to have a look at the Attic. The clutter filled there could be the best hiding spot for anyone.

After sniffing the smell of fresh pancakes for the second time, you couldn't resist any longer. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and padded downstairs.

Sarah and Joaquin were laughing in the kitchen, the sound warm and inviting. He was wearing an Air Force t-shirt over his sweatpants, his hair still damp from his shower, and a lazy smile playing on his lips. Of course he's a morning person, you thought, a pang of envy hitting you.

"Good morning sleepyhead," Sarah called out, her eyes twinkling.

Joaquin looked up, his smile widening as he saw you. You realized, with a jolt, that you were still in your Naruto pajamas, your hair a complete mess. Panic surged through you, but when you saw him smiling at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners, you relaxed slightly.

"Morning," you mumbled, taking a seat at the table.

"Joaquin made these," Sarah announced proudly, placing a plate of golden brown pancakes in front of you. "They're incredible."

"They are," you agreed, already taking a bite. "God bless you, Sarah, these are heavenly."

"Oh, that's all Joaquin," Sarah said, pouring you a tall glass of something. "I just made the milkshakes."

"Milkshakes!" you exclaimed, your eyes widening.

"Chocolate and caramel," she said, placing the glass in front of you. "With extra cream."

"Thank you!" You high-fived her, then turned to Joaquin. "And thank you, for the pancakes."

"Anytime," he said, taking a bite of his own pancake. He met your gaze, a slow, appreciative smile gracing his lips. You swore you saw a glint of something in his eyes – amusement? Admiration? Something more? You blinked, suddenly unsure of yourself.

Is my head playing tricks with me? you wondered, your heart pounding a little faster than it should be.

---

“Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm…”

“Uhh… What's the whole deal with John Walker?” Joaquin asked while fixing a sensor on the attic window.

All afternoon you had been setting up sensors anywhere there was a blind spot. You don’t want to scare Sarah, but your gut would not be satisfied until the house was a fortress.

“It’s the government’s doing to be honest. I have a feeling it’s gonna implode royally and they’ll be doing anything to cover it up.” You looked up from your tablet, “including taking down Walker.”

“Damn.” He stopped, climbing down the window still, “you speak like you’ve witnessed this before.”

You let out a dry laugh, connecting the sensor to your tablet, “I saw the Avengers being torn apart from the inside.”

“Wait,” he tilts his head, his hair bouncing while doing so, “you were with the Avengers during the Sokovia Accords?”

“Yep.” You sit along the wall under the open window, with the sunlight pooled into the attic and cool air rushing in, and pat the space next to you, “I was eight maybe, when Natasha and Clint saved me from being an assassin for The Red Room.” You took a deep breath, “Grew up with them, I stayed mostly on the sidelines until the Civil War. Then it was three years of being blacklisted by the government and whatnot.” he takes a seat right next to you, your shoulders touching.

“Enough about me,” you look at him, “What about you? Where are you from?”

“Born in Mexico, raised in Arizona.” He looks at you, his eyes in the sunlight shining bright.

Can eyes sparkle? I’ve never seen someone’s eyes sparkle before.

“Damn. Grand Canyons, huh.” you smile as you imagined him in hiking gear.

“Yeah, I’ve been there many times and believe me… it takes my breath away every single time.”

You huff out, “I always wanted to hike on that trail, never got the chance.”

“Maybe you can come with me after all this is over.” He says coyly, nudging your shoulder, “I can show you around, we can go visit other places, Horseshoe Bend, Havasu Falls…”

Y/n… just say it. He can’t be more obvious than this.

You smirk, “Joaquin Torres,” he looks at you, his cheeks turning red, “are you asking me out on a date?”

“Maybe… if you want to.” He looks at the ceiling, and to your amusement, you realize he was blushing, “And I promise I won’t scam you for money…” you laugh out loud, “I’m always up for hiking the trail, you know, because I work out.”

You groan in between laughing, “you heard that!”

“Yeah, I heard you checking me out…”

“…I wasn’t checking you out!” you fall back on the wall, “You have nice arms. That’s all.” You try not to smirk, but you see him do so from the corner of your eye.

“That’s all? What about my sensor uploading skills?” he wavered his eyebrows.

“10 by 10. You remain undefeated.”

Silence falls over as you keep stealing glances at each other. It’s only broken when he says, “You’re really pretty by the way.”

You laugh, and nudge his shoulder, “just pretty?”

“…and a Geek, you looked great in those Naruto pajamas…”

You hide your face in your hands but he continues, “Where did you get them? Costco?”

“I went on tour to Japan, so…” you look into those chocolaty brown eyes again, his face in the sunlight makes his features stand out, your attention going to his lips.

“Maybe you could take me with you next time.” He says, holding your hand, caressing the back as he looks at your lips.

“Only if you want to.” You whisper, leaning in, praying you weren’t reading this wrong.

Joaquin took hold of your neck, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. He pulled you closer, your lips meeting in the middle with a soft, exploratory touch. His lips were soft, as you'd imagined, and his hands cradled your face, his thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate for more. His tongue darted out, tasting you, a low groan rumbling in his chest that sent shivers down your spine. You wanted him to do more, go further, and you pulled back slightly, your eyes searching his.

Before Joaquin could protest, you straddled him, pushing him back against the wall. His eyes widened in surprise, a predatory glint entering them. You crashed your mouth on his, this time with a fierce urgency. The soft exploration of your first kiss quickly escalated into a desperate demand, your bodies pressed together, a primal need igniting within you.

"Fuck... y/n," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips, his fingers digging into your skin. He pulled back slightly, his lips leaving a trail of hot kisses down your neck, his breath fanning against your skin. He found the sweet spot on your pulse, sucking on it with a possessive intensity that made you arch against him. You gasped, clutching at his shirt, your nails digging into the fabric.

He leaned back, his eyes closed, a blissful moan escaping his lips. "God, you taste incredible," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. He kissed you again, this time a slow, deliberate exploration, his tongue tracing the inside of your mouth, mapping every curve.

Every inch of your body seemed to ignite by his touch, time melting away. There was only him, his hands roaming over your body, his lips devouring yours, and the intoxicating feeling of desire that consumed you both.

High Pitched and Grating, a sensor alarm rang through the attic.

You retreat in shock, like two deer caught in headlights, and Joaquin grabs the tablet and sees where this was happening.

Blood drained from his face as you witnessed at least four flag smashers moving towards the Wilson residence, guns armed, maybe a mile away.

He gets up, “East side?” grabbing the tablet and locking the windows.

“I’ll get Sarah.” You reply, already on your feet rushing downstairs.

---

"Halt," Lucas whispered, his voice a low growl in the pre-dawn darkness. The team crouched low, their figures mere shadows against the backdrop of the dense forest. Sam Wilson's house loomed ahead, a beacon of normalcy in the encroaching gloom.

"I see only two people inside," Matt reported, his voice a whisper cutting through the silence. "No kids." He checked the thermal scanners, the infrared images flickering on his visor.

Artie, his face pale in the moonlight, grabbed Lucas's shoulder. "Karli didn't say anything about kids."

"She told us to bring them alive," Lucas reminded him, his eyes fixed on the house. "And they need to be unharmed for negotiation."

Nadia shifted uncomfortably, her hand tightening around the grip of her revolver. "I don't like this," she muttered, her voice laced with unease. "I didn't agree to harm any kids."

Lucas turned to her, his gaze sharp. "Nadia!" he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "We're doing this. One way or the other. Stop whining and get to work."

He took a deep breath, the metallic scent intensifying. "One World..." he began, his voice echoing in the stillness.

"One people," his team responded in unison, their voices a low, guttural chant.

With a silent, coordinated movement, they emerged from the shadows, their figures gliding towards the Wilson residence, the air thick with anticipation and a chilling sense of foreboding.

---

"Go, go, go!" you barked, adrenaline surging through you. You snatched Sarah's bag, your fingers brushing against the cool metal of the handgun inside. You grabbed AJ's hand, his small fingers clutching yours tightly, and ushered them towards the waiting car.

Cass and Sarah were already running, their figures mere shadows against the encroaching twilight. You threw the bags in the backseat, your movements a blur, then helped Cass and AJ climb in.

Sarah slid behind the wheel, her face pale. "Y/n, what are you doing?!" she gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"I have to stay here," you said, your voice firm. "Make sure they don't follow you." You shoved your Glock into Sarah's hand.

A roar from inside the house cut through the tension. "Y/n! They're here!" Joaquin's voice, amplified by the sudden silence, echoed through the air.

"Sarah, I promise I'll be fine," you said, your gaze locked with Cass's in the rearview mirror. Tears were streaming down her face, but she nodded, her small frame trembling. "You have to go." You shoved your tablet into her hands, a desperate plea in your eyes. "Remember what I told you earlier. You'll be safe here."

"Sarah, go!" you screamed, your voice hoarse.

You watched as the car lurched forward, disappearing down the dirt road that snaked towards the water. A beep on your watch confirmed her location, a fleeting sense of relief washing over you.

Phase One. Over.

Phase Two. Let's go.

You sprinted through the back door, the house suddenly feeling eerily silent. Joaquin was already there, a grim set to his jaw. He was clad in his SHIELD armor, the sleek black material gleaming in the dim light. Guns and your emergency bag lay scattered across the kitchen table, a grim testament to the impending battle. You stole a glance at the tablet, its screen flickering with life as it ran facial recognition on the figures outside.

"Ready?" you asked, your voice a low growl, as you slipped on the bulletproof vest and began loading the magazines.

"Yeah," Joaquin replied, his eyes scanning the room, assessing the situation.

You looked out the window, the setting sun casting long, eerie shadows across the yard. "Let's hope Sam doesn't sue us for destroying his house," you muttered.

To be continued...

Part 2

A/N - Thank you everyone for sticking with me till the end of this fic! if you liked it please let me know through the asks and the comments. Love y'all, Take Care!

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