#i've had enough of being a magical girl

[justmeinabigolworld]

and I didn't even include magical boy anime (which isn't as rare as some people think)

look. a subgenre going in a direction you don't like for a while doesn't make it "dead". reboots, sequels, prequels, and stuff like that are the trend in all sorts of media, not just magical girl anime.

also, there are all sorts of cool magical girl works that aren't anime, and i don't just mean manga and light novels. there's live-action stuff, VNs, webcomics, written works, cartoons from countries other than japan...

and guess what? i'm not against dark magical girl stuff by any means. madoka magica was what got me into magical girl stuff in the first place! i love all sorts of magical girl media, both light and dark, though i don't claim to be an expert by any means. there's still so much stuff i haven't watched/read/played...

anyway, the anime listed here include Artiswitch, Kuromajo-san ga Tooru, Little Witch Academia, Fantasista Doll, Magia Wars, SHY, Hina Logi: From Luck and Logic, Matoi the Sacred Slayer, I've Had Enough of Being a Magical Girl, Urahara, Flip Flappers, Six Hearts Princess, Magical Girl Kurumi, The Demon Girl Next Door, and Mewkledreamy. The upcoming ones are Magical Girl Aiko, Princess Session Orchestra, Acro Trip, Magilumiere, The Magical Girl and the Evil Lieutenant Used to be Enemies, and an unnamed magical girl anime from Studio Pierrot

[yukiimufinz]

why the hell does the animes with the best artstyle end up being weird asf

LIKE IT LOOKS SO DAMN CUTE BUT I COULD ONLY WATCH LIKE 3 EPISODES OF THE ANIME BECAUSE IT'S SO DAMN WEIRD

WHYY

[sh33bsreblogging]

Response to Previous Tags: So. HI. UH. OP, I wasn’t expecting you to catch me in the tags, as that usually doesn’t happen to me.

I know you said "in the tags" but. tags would not be able to contain everything. OF WHICH, OP I DONT EXPECT YOU TO READ EVERYTHING IF THE KEEP READING THING DOESNT SHOW UP IN THE REBLOGS. OK. I dont know how this Will look in reblogs either so PRECAUTIONARY WARNING OKK, long as fuck. I'll put condensed version in tags.

But, okay, if oc’s count then… properly my favorite character is one of my own making, and she is named Night Verr’la. (Ver-rr-la) [Roll your r's] Who is a Tavern keeper, and was previously a Paladin. (As mentioned in initial reblog) Which, isn’t actually her real name. It is a false one she made from her previous one. Vera Knight.

Reason for that is the whole Paladin thing wasn't a great one.

Vera Knight comes from the world Sil'vina (Sill-vin-na), specifically from the city Navatal (Nav-ah-tal). There are 7 main gods, called lordfolkes, in this world and Navatal has a big religious following under one of these. The Lordfolke Nature.

Vera's parents were alright for what they could be in Navatal's environment. Both of them were Paladins themselves, and did push for Vera to become one as well, but others from outside of the family were pushing for this as well. They were both religious under Nature.

Starting at 7 training for being a Knight began- something that was just common practice for this Medieval time-period set world- and would continue on for several years until she was 19. Sometime during this period, Vera would have interest taken in on her by a subsection of worshipers of Nature that were more fanatical in nature than others. This cult would have her be changed from who she was normally trained under to a more secretive section. Training already was hard, but the new one was considerably more brutal.

Despite this, Vera did excel at it, but with this change she began to notice and realize that she didn't want to be doing what she was doing. Before this point, she was fully believing in the ideals of those around her and doing what others wanted her to do, or to become. This did not change very quickly, but over the course of a few years it would lead to her running off from all of that.

Now, I've not mentioned anything of what the training has apart of it, only that it was difficult. Navatal's religious side has a thing for wanting Paladins and Clerics to become something known as a Messenger. - A Messenger is the equivalent of an "angel" or even a "champion" for the lordfolke they serve under. They are blessed with markings after making an oath to serve the god once training was complete, unsurprisingly called "Messenger Markings" currently, and these gift the individual with access to the ability to have stronger magic at base than normal. These markings take on different shapes depending on which god it is from. Nature is that of vines, leaves, and eyes.

Vera was going to become a Paladin with the end goal of becoming a Messenger. This path of training is unusually brutal, designed more in mind of making these individuals more like into a weapon than a solider. Putting them at odds with their peers, living in a situation of fear of breaking any rule due to threat of harsh punishment. Often this was physical harm of death.

Some of their training had them following commands to kill those who had broken religious rules without any question.

Vera would at first be fully within this mindset, but the 4 years spent training she would discover things that would slowly make her question more and more of what she was doing. Though, this questioning started after the final trial to earn her markings. A misinterpreted phrase, "survival of the fittest", lead the fanatical group to have those they pulled aside into this separate training to fight to become a Messenger. Last one standing was the "fittest" and thus fit to become one. I do not think it needs to be said who won that.

Which, as mentioned previously, caused her to run off during what would of been the 5th year of training. She realized that she didn't want to be a Paladin, or a Messenger, or following under her god. None of this was something she ever wanted, and instead being things that Someone Else wanted her to do.

Running off meant leaving everything she knew for the unknown, and breaking her oath. The oath being broken means a rather painful moment of the markings changing, no longer a blessing and more of a curse at this point. Angular, thorny, vines with open, eyes with cat-like slits are now what they look like, in contrast to the smooth curls and leaves of what it was previously. These cover her upper arms, shoulders, and back.

When she now uses plant magic it will feel like these vines constrict around her, digging their thorns in to her skin. Her magic supply has been reduced back to what it was, an issue when you've been trained to use spells that drain more than you naturally have, and it is further an issue because the strength of the magic she has didn't reduce. This doesn't sound like an issue, but it is for similar reason to that of the spells she knows, it takes more concentration to control stronger magic, and her concentration is contested against by the markings causing her pain.

It is a recipe for easy Magic scarring.

Magic scarring is when magic is mishandled by the caster, or significantly damaged by another caster.

Despite this, she learns more Mind magic from a fellow run away, another under a different lordfolke [Prophecy] who no longer wanted what they originally set out to do. She already knew some mind magic, things of illusion and trickery to make the environment harder to navigate, so you couldn't escape from her.

But this individual taught her how to mess with memories. To take them out of someone's head and into a stone.

Vera, at this point, has changed from using her name to using an alias. Night Verr'la, and on top of that one, she would become known as "Burden Bearer" by those she used this new spell on.

See, she still wanted to help people, she always had wanted to help others. She thought she was doing this while as a Paladin, but that wasn't so as she learned. Now she was trying to help people again, though again it wouldn't go well.

12 years she spends as Burden Bearer, going around and "helping" others by removing the memories they didn't want to remember. Anything they didn't want to remember, and keep them safe. The hope was that they would come back and deal with it, and some did, but most simply left the memories there with her.

This becomes an issue after a certain Sillia Fiear. Her final client.

Sillia sought out Burden Bearer in not the erasure of a memory, but in the management of emotions. She had been afflicted with the Golden Curse, after having stolen from The Golden Dragon. A curse that would make her transform into a dragon herself during outbursts of emotions, commonly stress or anger. This draconic form was functional solely off of fight or flight responses, there was no higher thought other than that. Sillia was commonly the Fight response, and so you can see how this leads into trouble for her when this hot-head gets too worked up and now there is a large dragon killing everything in the vicinity to Make the area safe for it.

Night was not as experienced in assisting in such a request, but attempted to anyways. But the extraction of memory or emotion alike is a tricky process, and after a while something was bound to go wrong.

A patient too worked up, a mistake made, magic strained beyond what she had, and a fight broke out, resulting in Sillia's death, and Night's close call with it.

In this fight, the memory stones that Night had got shattered. This returns those memories to those people, and in a way makes them relive it partially. ... Some memories are too harsh to relive again, especially after experiencing a life with them gone, to learn what these experiences stole from you is a bit too much for some.

Night stopped being Burden Bearer after that. Scared from the fight, horrified at what happened in result of it with the memory stones, and yet feeling nothing about it, which scared her further. If only for it to drain away, causing a slight loop of horror.

See, the spell Night over extended her abilities on, was a Calm Emotions spell. It scarred her, she used too much of magic she didn't have to try and vainly calm Sillia down. Magic scarring effects are influenced by the spell that caused it. In this case, Night was now afflicted with a permanent state of neutrality. If emotions were contained in a bucket, then hers had a big hole in the bottom of it, and only the strongest ones could stay around for a little while.

It caused conflict within her, she wanted to feel bad for what had happened, but found that she couldn't, not for long. She already was a bundle of issues but this only made it worse. She hated it, and in turn herself.

Night would end up traveling to a town called Eventide, and set up a Tavern a short distance away from it. No longer trying to help people as directly as she did before, taking up a more passive version of it. A simple rest stop, nothing more than that.

She would come off as closed off and cold to most, nice but only within reason of not being outright rude to customers. She kept to herself, and did not talk much of herself. She would lie of her past, or skip around talking about it.

Eventually a Forestfolke (fae) would come by, and Night would end up setting up a garden in the back for them. M was their name, and M only hung around due to Night's scarring, them having scarring of their own that was the inverse of Night's, but Night didn't want them bothering her customers so she made an area for them to stay.

A pair of individuals would come by that were also runaways, a twins who ran off from their home, due to parents that were not so kind to them. She gave them shelter, and food, and let them stay. After a while, it would be that they formed a found family kind of connection, an adoptive mom, of which the Forestfolke did similar with Night as a sibling dynamic.

a few others would come by, and similar situations of Night growing to care about them would occur, despite the initial distancing she would do to them all.

10 years of being a tavernkeeper. 10 years of the only part of her life that she would consider good, if only for it to end with the town being attacked by a group known as Phobos. With Night and M dying to protect the others, so that they could get to safety.

It was a successful endeavor.

I left out some details here and there, too much to explain everything in one post, I'd go on for even longerrrr. But, here An Image of her, if you wish to see. She weilds a big hammer :]

favorite character from any media BUT it has to be a woman. in the tags now go (pls talk to me about your favorite fictional women pls pls pls pls)

[lgbtlunaverse]

I've seen a good number of people ask a question along the lines of "why do characters like Falin and hate Laios when they're so similar?" and i've also seen good analysis on the differences in how the touden siblings carry themselves that would, despite their shared traits, make a person gravitate to one more than the other.

But i feel like we've overseen one very central thing here.

People don't like Falin

Like... the average person in dungeon meshi doesn't like Falin. She was deeply ostrasized by her home village, in magic school she had zero friends before Marcille and the others generally saw her as strange and a bit offputting.

Characters like Namari and Chilchuck like her well enough but not necessarily more than any other member of their party, including Laios. Neither Kabru nor his party think much of her. The canaries don't give a fuck about her. Toshiro's retainers don't see her as anything else than the weird foreign girl their boss has a crush on.

The reason we think everyone loves Falin is because, despite all the indifferent side characters, the 2 most important and central characters of the story are Laios and Marcille. Who are NOT representative of the average attitudes to Falin! But necromancy georg number 1 and 2 are our main eyes into the story and they love Falin so much that it colours our perspective of the whole world.

The only side character who qualifies as liking Falin and not Laios is Toshiro (at least at first, as he ends the story on much better terms with Laios) and that says a lot about his character, with him drifting to the quiet Falin precisely because of her oddness but being both uncomfortable with and deeply jealous of Laios' much more open expression of that oddness. Because he's a repressed guy from a culture where etiquette is incredibly important.

But like I said, that's a specific aspect of him, not to the world at large.

Because there's also people that click more with laios than with Falin.

Kabru, for one, who is initially distrustful of laios but clearly also deeply fascinated by him and drawn to him.

Minor spoilers, and you don't have to read too deeply into this, because I don't think Kabru particularly dislikes Falin or anything. But it's interesting that when he talks about his distrust of the toudens in ch.32 he's talking about them both. But his big friendship declaration in chapter 76 is aimed squarely at Laios, he doesn't say "you and your sister" he says "you"

And Senshi!! He instantly clicks with Laios, well before he does so with anyone else in the party– who he also becomes friends with, it just takes a bit longer– specifically because they bond over their shared special interest in monsters!! Senshi is kind towards Falin and cares for her wellbeing, but he also... doesn't know her. The reason he is even here, helping to save her, is because he and Laios bonded over monsters and he wants to help his new friends out!

Of course, the theme of neurodivergent isolation is very present in Laios' story. I'm not denying that. He does turn people off, without meaning to and unable to fully understand why! But so does Falin. And just like there are people who like her despite of or even because of those traits, there are people who do the same with him.

In conclusion: "Average person loves Falin and hates Laios" factoid actually statistical error. Average person is neutral on both Falin and Laios. Georcille, Laiorg and Geoshiro, who live in the dungeon and think over 10,000 Falin-loving thoughts a day, are statistical outliers adn should not have been counted.

[loycos]

this season we got to see a whole new side to caitlyn's fighting: close counters. something that she used to be so, SO terrible at.

This season, not only did we see her physically fighting twice, but she also went against the 2 most badass fucking terrifying butches on the show: Sevika and Ambessa. and in both times, she WON.

how does that make any sense? is she now an amazing crazy brawler who can kick anyone's ass??? hardly. of course there are factors at play that helped her achieve this other than raw strength (the hextech malfunction and mel's magic, respectively). but just how the hell did she even hold on her own in physical fights with these beasts of women without them literally flattening her in less that 5 seconds?

that's where a whole side of Caitlyn that i don't see discussed often comes in: respect. or at least, lack thereof. Caitlyn is one of the least respected characters in the show, by other characters. i've addressed it in a post before with Jinx, who doesn't want to acknowledge Caitlyn as a human, for many reasons, but it can definitely come across as disrespect. we saw it with Salo on 2 different occasions. Singed did not give a fuck about Caitlyn's threats and basically called her an impatient baby. she is referred to as a "child" or a "girl" more than fucking Isha. if we go back to season 1, seems like her own parents struggled seeing her as an adult that can make her own choices. her coworkers make fun of her dedication. Marcus thought she was an entitled brat. when they first met, VI didn't respect Caitlyn at ALL.

the 3 characters who know Caitlyn and respect her are: Vi, Jayce, and Mel. that's so fucking sad. Caitlyn wants to be acknowledged for who she is and her capabilities, yet she has to fight harder for it than anyone else around, despite her privilege. or maybe because of it. notice how it's something Maddie preys on: "Piltover looks up to you. i look up to you". she knows Caitlyn desperately wants be taken seriously.

back to fighting: if you notice, Sevika and Ambessa are doing the exact same thing here.

during their fight, Sevika looked like she was mostly just pushing Caitlyn around, trying to hold her off, while Cailtyn was fighting for her life.

we know how ruthless Sevika can be when she actually puts effort into fighting, but in this case it looks like she was playing with her food for just a little too long, and then the hextech weapons started freaking out. and that cost her the fight.

with Ambessa it's even clearer. yes, in a way she sees Caitlyn almost like a surrogate daughter, but does she? notice how she calls Mel by her name. she addresses Caitlyn as "child", and she's not even HER child. it's belittling. Ambessa mostly tries to mold her, and she clearly did not expect Caitlyn to be intelligent enough to pick up on it.

the whole fight in episode 9. Ambessa letting the mole she planted in Caitlyn's bed to execute her? not even doing it herself? disrespect. mocking her for being desperate? disrespect.

when they actually fight, Ambessa shows the exact same symptoms Sevika did. maybe its a Noxian ritual or something, to torture your victim before u publicly execute them, but in certain points in the fight she couldve had Caitlyn killed and just chose not to. it's especially noticeable after she gauges Caitlyn's eye, and Caitlyn rests defenseless on the floor, bleeding on 2 fronts. what does Ambessa say? "you fought well, child." if that's not the disrespect of the century i don't know what is. and AGAIN, this cost Ambessa the fight. and her life, in this case.

the saddest part of it all is that Caitlyn is the character that shows respect the most, to almost everyone she meets. regardless of how they treat her.

[modedelagauze]

Lying is The Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

​​pairing: Ellie Williams x f!reader summary: Ellie finds out you do burlesque and fucks you in costume after the show. cw: nsfw, dom!Ellie, thigh riding, praise kink, cursing, strap, fingering (4.2k) Read the extended version on AO3 HERE

an: I've got serious p!atd brain rot right now so stream Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off to get the full vision~

unedited btw!

“Five minutes!” shouted a voice over many, somewhat distorted by the echo of clicking heels rapidly shuffling between the narrow corridors of the dressing rooms and storage closets sandwiched among one another downstairs. You took a moment to reapply a thick layer of the blood colored bullet in your fingers and puckering to place a kiss on the surface of a half boa covered mirror as a way of wishing good luck to yourself before the show. You were one of the only cabaret girls who actually sang at the club and the only girl to  have ever sang for Ellie Williams personally. At the beginning of the semester you’d often spend late afternoons alone and enclosed within the padded walls of the black box theater, on campus, practicing. You were blissfully unaware of the fact that there was someone else who was also using the space on occasion, probably for the better. It only was two weeks into the term that you’d stayed later than usual singing–ten minutes at most–and been disturbed by the nervous brunette carrying a guitar. To avoid drawing attention, Ellie had always entered the theater through its reliably unlocked back doors only to be gifted with the sound of your voice. Entranced by the melody, she decided to wait behind the curtains, standing just far enough for a view of your form without being noticed. It was only when you turned to take a swig of water that you became aware of the girl watching you. After that encounter she suggested that the two of you spend some time singing together, that you could learn a thing or two from each other. You ended up learning how magical her fingers could feel buried deep within that aching cunt of yours. With time, of course, she’d gone and destroyed what the two of you had built by indecisively bouncing back and forth between you and some girl back home. So, here you were ignoring her third call of the week and at the same time hoping to see her in passing just for one moment of spite.

On the stairs down from the dressing room, you practiced breathing exercises in preparation for the upcoming vocal stress. Girls called out wishes of support as you made your way down the long hall until their voices faded into the hushed whispers of patrons and the sharp clanging of glasses upon their wooden tables. It felt as though time had sped up tenfold how a wire was so quickly slid behind your ears and down your costume; a small flesh colored earpiece rushed into your right palm to be placed comfortably at your own will. Right at center stage was the band’s pianist, side facing the curtains, whilst the rest of the group were all tucked along the left side of the stage facing the audience. He passed along a supportive nod in your direction as you rushed into position; that being sat atop the far right side of his piano with an arched back and one thigh flush against the wood while the other was kicked up and bent.  

“Thirty seconds till curtains rise,” ushered one of the techies and thus began the pianist, a playful and upbeat tempo before joined by the bass then guitars. The crowd cheered, queueing everyone behind the curtains that the two dancers upon the stage beyond had begun dancing along to the music. Slowly the velvet draping began to reveal light, decorating everyone behind the curtains too in ribbons of dancing radiance. 

In synchronization with the drums having now kicked in and the curtains fully raised, you began in a teasing tone, “Is it still me that makes you sweat?”  Your hands navigated down your hair and to your breasts, stopping to cup them ever so slightly before tauntingly sliding a single bra strap down between the lines, “am I who you think about in bed when the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you’re sliding off her dress?” An o-shaped expression of faux-embarrassment graced your face for a moment before gliding off of the piano and maneuvering around it to wrap your arms around the pianist in an attempt to imitate the look of a neck kiss. The next line was one of mockery, “Think of what you did and how I hope to god she was worth it.” As the final words of the phrase escaped your lips, your eyes landed on Ellie sandwiched within the crowd along the center stage, earning a stutter only recognized by the pianist as his eyes quickly darted to you and back to his instrument of choice. “When the lights are dim–And your heart is racing as your fingers touch her skin.” The line was rushed in order to catch up with your stutter, though the pianist threw in an additional key to make up for it, smiling as he played. In one fluid motion the two dancers along stage, darted to your figure and tugged on either side at both arms. You sang with pure confidence, borderline arrogance “I’ve got more wit” as one dancer dropped your arm the other spun you into hers and ran a hand along your face, thumbing at your flush bottom lip “a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck than any girl you’d ever meet.” Your song choice for the night had been a very carefully curated one though you weren't expecting to see Ellie any time soon–especially at your place of work out of all locations–it felt so good to sing your emotions out and leave them on the stage, but seeing her just now had felt like the greatest fuck you that the universe could offer. Had she even known that you’d be here or was it all by pure coincidence? Regardless, you'd come to the conclusion that now was no better a time than ever to remind her of the mistake she’d made. The other dancer’s hands found their way to your waist, unraveling you from the original’s hold and into her own. Both of your hands landed in your hair, teasingly pulling at it leading her to imitate the ghost of an open-mouthed moan, “Sweetie you had me.”

The routine required you to pick a random guest in the audience to sing to and Ellie had just so managed to pick one of the best seats in the house. Navigation was really quite effortless as you made sure to spend a lingering moment here and there singing into the face of occasional patrons. Each strum of the bass was a stride forward before unabashedly ending up at Ellie's table. You managed to dance around the other people sitting there and right into her face without wasting a beat. You asked and received and here she was in all her glory, a bewildered look upon her face as if she hadn't expected for you to make such a commotion about her appearance. You knew under that carefree attitude that she loved to portray there was still that same nervous girl tucked away within. It was as if she’d planned to show up in order to provoke you and realized that now was too late to back out. Usually she had no issue confronting any issue at hand but the problem was that she hated the attention confrontation brought her. She wanted your attention after having not seen you in so long and was desperate enough to risk embarrassment for it, which said more than enough.

Her gaze brought out a degree of seduction in you that had been fighting to finally be on the prowl again, tantalizing and enough for the girl in front of you to practically taste you with her eyes. You could see her fingernails hopelessly digging into the arm rests of her chair, respecting  the club rules that patrons weren’t allowed to touch any of the performers unless they placed the hands of patrons upon their bodies themself. 

A wicked smile was unavoidable as your hands grew to extend themselves past your own body and onto hers, delicately tiptoeing down her shoulder blades, scuffling the tips of your freshly manicured nails down the sides of her biceps. How you knew she loved the scratches; the way you would often leave her skin tinged red the following morning after a scandalous night. Maintaining eye contact was the name of the game for the entire duration of your little escapade. Naturally you already had the girl by an inch or two, but with the added height of heels you were a steel tower of carnality that she wished to rip apart. If anything she liked that you were taller because It made watching you sink down onto her strap all the more enjoyable. Seemingly the length of your legs created an illusion of prolonged time settling down upon her crude nature and she could watch you ride all night long.

You were sure to drag your claws along her jeans, pressing just hard enough for her to feel it through the fabric as your hands retracted down to her knees and you dropped to a close legged crouch looking up at her, running your hands across your own skin and through your hair, suspending it all in the air long enough for her to get a good glance at the exposed skin of your neck and hickeys from someone who wasn’t her. Slowly you stood again, rocking your hips back and forth as and circled her seat. She hadn't taken much of a sip from her drink and so from behind you snatched the floating cherry stem from its alcohol soaked entrapment. When you could see her eyes again, you reached to wrap your left hand around her jaw, forcing it open as you allowed the cherry to hover over your outstretched tongue then flicking it inside of her mouth. Of course she caught on and separated the cherry from its stem and you dropped what was left of it back into the drink. “Oh no, you know it will always just be me.”

From there you made your way back to the stage and concluded the set. Exiting the stage, you caught the view of a faint glow upon Ellie's face as was seemingly typing away furiously upon that screen. When you finally got to the dressing room your phone had lit up with a flurry of messages from the distressed brunette. The first about how beautiful you were, next demanding you keep your costume on, followed by how much she wanted to ruin your pretty makeup and finally concluding it all by asking if you could just come outside for a moment. And of course she got the better of you. Frankly you were turned on by how desperate she looked and sounded. Maybe you’d punished her for long enough? Washington got cold fast and by early November snowfall was impending so you grabbed your fleece and made for the back door where-to nobody’s surprise-Ellie was parked almost directly in front of the door whilst leaning against the passenger door waiting for you. 

“It’s good to see you.” She spoke as she moved to open the door for you to get in.

With only inches between your lungs, you crossed your arms stopping dead in your tracks. “That’s not what you said to me Ellie. You asked me for a moment, not a damn joyride.”

The brunette rolled her eyes, now dropping her crossed arms to motion at the enormous building behind you. “Can you just listen to me for five minutes (†)?” she sighed loudly before continuing on in an almost pleading tone. “You just gave me a fucking amazing show and the place is obviously about to close. The least I can do is congratulate you on all this, because I haven't heard a lick from you in the last two weeks and suddenly you've become a damn good showgirl.”

Avoiding the situation, you sniffled at the bitter cold before gliding inside of her leather interior. “I’m freezing.”

She was quick to slam the door shut, mumbling something about you irritating her as she made her way back around to the driver’s side. Humming quietly, the speakers inside said what she refused to say aloud, “Why don't you show me a little bit of spine you’ve been saving for his mattress. I only want your sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me.” And of course you would've done just that, but it was only fair that you made the process difficult. Too many times had you easily given into her apologies within hours. Truthfully you missed her and the way she fucked you, but don’t get it twisted, it wasn’t that Abby hadn’t been easily laying you to rest when you couldn't see Ellie and vice versa, but why have only one pretty girl in your life when you could have two of them? It was pure and utter unapologetic greed.

As she had previously requested, you kept the same lingerie from earlier on; a pair of fishnet tights, low rising short shorts decorated by black sequins with a matching bustier so low cut that she was surprised it had not warranted one nip slip throughout the entire show. A plethora of golden cuffs spanned either of your biceps while a frilled garter belt adorned your left thigh and your hair, she couldn't even begin to speak on those perfect ringlets and how they framed your face, cascading down your shoulders into ink blotted waterfalls. The charm decorated braids placed sporadically around your head were always the cherry on top of it all because she loved how she could always hear you coming before she actually saw you; waiting like a dog with perked ears for a treat. 

After her door was closed and locked you turned to face the girl, now ready to lay bare whatever needed to be said and done. “Well?” You taunted, sliding your feet from their heeled prisons and bringing your legs up to your chest to sit comfortably.

Ellie adjusted the gear before she moved to reach behind the head of your seat , reversing out of the parking lot. Her eyes darted over to you then back on the road, laughing dryly as she responded. “Please don’t play stupid with me (†). We both know why you’re in my car.” 

You opened your mouth to speak then decided against it, staring out of the window with crossed arms when you responded. “How did you even find out where I work at Ellie?”

She laughed before placing a hand on your thigh, playfulling squeezing the tender tissue. “I knew that I only had to look for the most glamorous place around. Besides, Jessie really doesn’t like conflict.”

“And who the fuck are you, going around asking my friends about me Ellie?”

“He’s my friend too. I don’t understand why you have to be so damn difficult when you’re sitting barefoot in my car. I can’t think of any other reason you’d be undressing yourself already.” You’d been so busy pretending to be mad at her that you hadn’t realized that the car had just come to a stop in an empty parking lot, with only the faint illumination of a nearby lamppost to reveal the silhouette of her face in a warm wash of light.

Finally you decided to face her, “Maybe I’ve decided to change things up. I like hearing you whine, Ellie.” her gaze softened, eyebrows raised as a smirk played at the corner of her mouth fighting to reveal itself. 

Ellie reoriented herself to lean on the center console, partially to close the space between the two of you and also to allow her eyes finally a better view, mentally undressing your figure in the process. “You’re so demanding (†).”

You leaned in, whispering a final retort before closing the gap. “I get off to being worshiped by you, Ellie.” 

You could feel the girl smiling into the kiss as her fingers entrenched your curls, holding them tightly in a delicate cluster. After the two of you finally pulled apart a string of saliva had remained connecting you both until you’d moved far enough to break the thin bond. Her eyes were darker now, thinking of the ways she could mold you into whatever she wanted in this car. “Get in the backseat,” she demanded breathlessly. The girl then increased the volume of her music before she joined you back there, the next track being ‘Is It Really You’ from Loathe.

The two of you fought like swordsmen to control the encounter, Ellie forcing you into the cold glass of the window when she was the one kissing you and then switching to Ellie restrained with her head to the leather when you were the one kissing her. You sat straddling her lap, one leg folded up along her hip and the other fallen between the leg space separating the front and back seats. Your fingers threaded through her hair as an arm moved to gently squeeze your throat, locking you in place as the other reached around, palming your ass for a couple seconds before she snuck a finger around the ribbon holding your bustier together, tugging at the material. “So fuckin pretty,” she gasped between the dancing of your tongues. “Put your arms up.” You did as told with a careless disregard for the long process of getting that thing back on after all of this was over. You just wanted her all over you now. 

Ellie was a mess as she watched the reveal of your breast falling free from the bustier, instantly taking a taunt bud into her mouth and tweaking the other in her fingers. You moaned at the shockwaves it sent echoing down your body straight to your pussy, but there were no breaks to this ride. 

You didn’t even realize her fingers had already peeled back the crotch of your shorts when the sound of your fishnets ripping under her grasp brought you back down to reality. The air was cold against your clothed, sticky cunt as it begged for room to breathe. Her fingers began massaging small circles onto the inflamed pearl, already wet enough for it to stick to your panties. “All this dancing around the fuckin’ questions I ask you,” she laughed over your hushed moans before stopping to slap your desperate pussy. “Tryna pretend you didn't want this, but you’re so fucking wet already (†).” 

You’d forgotten who you were under her hold. Somehow it had become so embarrassing to be as bratty as you were, deliberately pissing her off in order to earn a good fucking, sitting there with your eyes screwed up and a hand over your mouth, silencing the pornographic noises attempting to escape your throat over mere dry humping. “Come back to me baby; You don't get to run away.” she teased, resulting in an aggressive hickey pressed into the skin above your nipple. Another electrifying shock when she bit down and in that same moment sneaking her digits into your panties to now perform an inhumane assault on your pink parts. “I wanna hear you.” The vulgar brunette hummed.

“How many times did she make you cum?”

Your eyes threatened to shut closed again, nearing the verge of pleasure filled tears sliding down your perfectly powdered cheeks, “What baby?”

“Abby.” At this point she was starting to sound annoyed, picking up the pace.

Out squealed a voice that you hadn't known could even come from within, “I don't know.”

“Then we should start counting how many I can put you through.”

Just as you could see the horizon of your orgasm approaching she retracted her fingers from the sopping canal, earning an exasperated whine on your end. She took your jaw into her left hand, turning your face away from her as she drug her tongue down your skin, biting at it rougher than she normally was-like there was something to be proven. “You want me to fuck you real bad huh?” She gloated, hooking a finger around the seat of your undies and running her digits along your slit, collecting more than enough slick for it to run down her fingers and onto her palm “Yeah?” She continued, pushing two fingers into your hole without warning. 

“Please,” was all that you could muster, grinding your hips onto her fingers for any sort of additional pressure. Almost there. Like clockwork she caught onto what you were attempting and stopped you dead in your tracks with her fingers having gone limp and the other hand holding your hips in place. 

“Now, you know better than that.” She spoke imitating faux-empathy, “especially when we’re like this with each other.” Because normally after arguing the two of you fucked it out and at some point during the transaction someone apologized resulting in an orgasm for the other but for now this was world’s nastiest game of chicken. In passing moments, she began again, fingers curving directly into that spot that made you see stars in the night, a hand placed on your hips rocking them back and forth. “C’mon baby, fuck yourself for me.” And you damn sure rode her like it was nothing, eyebrows knit together as you focused your entire being on getting off. It didn't even take a whole minute for you to get there, and Ellie grinned at her handy work, but this was only the beginning. “One. That’s a good girl.” Your legs shook in reaction to her aggression and you attempted to stop her fingers from continuing on, wrapping your own around her steady wrist.

“Move your hands (†).” She ordered as your eyes began to water from the overstimulation.

“I can’t.” You pleaded in broken whimpers.

All she could do was laugh at you again, offering encouragement as if this was nothing to her. “You will. I need to hear that shit real loud on my dick.” Those words alone were enough to send you through another fiery orgasm. You swore your moans were loud enough to be heard beyond the entrapment of this car and Ellie liked pushing herself to see just how loud she could get you. “Two. It was that easy.”

Stiff fabric was good for hiding things just as she had until now, exposing the strap on that you had assumed to have been her phone in her pocket earlier. Ellie took you into her arms, rearranging the two of you where she was now the one on top and your head resting against the door’s storage compartment. “You ready baby?” she enquired, taking a minute to kiss your cheeks. You nodded, cunt throbbing for more as she watched it produce more of that thick hot arousal. 

“You got the prettiest pussy in the world, (†).” She began, taking the plastic dick into her hand and tracing your slit, bewitched by the beautiful glass shine of your cum dripping down onto the leather seat as if an antiquated romantic painting. In that moment the guilt came flowing down her conscious for everything. Just wanted to make up for it by making you feel good. “Fuck, I can’t wait,” the girl whined, slowly pushing herself into you, feeling her own wetness completely entrenching her boxers and making its way for her thighs. The way your hair laid along the car interior, fanning out around you like a headdress made her melt, stopping to kiss you again before she began stroking slowly, making sure to allow you time to adjust to the feeling of fullness. 

“More,” You pleaded, beginning the process of catching her rhythm in your hips. 

“Yeah?” She answered, taking your thighs into her hands and sliding them over her shoulders, thrusting deeper for a couple of moments. “Feel good?” You struggled to formulate a coherent response and decided on simply nodding between moans. Ellie took this as a sign to make up for lost time, fucking into you with such force you were sure she could feel it on her own end, getting closer to finally cumming. 

“Like that! Just like that!” ripped a scream from your lungs, satisfied with her rhythm having at last caught onto matching with her. She thought you were too fucking gorgeous of a girl that just looking at you had her loosing it, just seeing your expressions and the way your tits bounced so beautifully, revealing the stretch marks on their underside that she so loved to trace when the two of you laid in bed together; a live erotic portrait unable to be topped by even the masters themselves. Your arms locked around Ellie’s neck, taking her hostage in your grasp and moaning feverishly into the girl’s ears. Before one could get past your lips another would come, choking you on your own pleasure. “So fuckin good El’s.” If she was doing everything right then you wouldn’t have been able to speak, so she slipped an arm between your stomach and hers, pressing your abdomen down  while the other arm kept you locked in place for her to use and abuse. You yelped, surprised by the added pressure, now feeling her deeper than before. Your hands loosed around her neck, digging into her back possibly even drawing blood.

“Take it, pretty girl.” she cooed, wanting everyone on the street to know her name and how good she made you feel. Didn’t matter how late into the night it was. It wasn't long until you came unraveled under her, your thighs clenching in anticipation for the coming waves of your climax. “Atta girl, I got you,” she whispered, continuing her dangerous pounding. A banshee would’ve been disturbed by the sound of you two. Of course Ellie always had to get the last laugh. “Three,” she sighed, wiping away the beads of sweat that had formed on her clammy forehead, bits of her fringe stuck adhered to the skin. "Forgive me?"

Would you guys be interesting in full length fic? I had lot of fun writing this. :p

Original Release: 11/7/24 Edit: 11/8/24

[ssahotchnerr]

Aaron’s wife getting drunk on spiked egg nog at a party with the rest of the BAU and she’s just all over Aaron. Kissing every part of his face and pinching his cheeks, she even tells the rest of the team cute stuff he does for her and being like “isn’t he the bestest hubby ever?!” Aaron’s just in the corner blushing lol

lovestruck and eggnog

!!!!!!!!!!!<3333 cw; fem!reader, reader is intoxicated, mentions of drinking, fluff, small allusions to sex/praise

in the midst of the party, you made your way back to aaron. he's been seated in the same spot for a while - exactly where you had been with him an hour ago - but still, his presence surprised you, your few glasses of spiked eggnog all to thank.

you promptly dropped yourself onto his lap, absolutely buzzing. your voice was on the sing-song side, your words slurring together the smallest amount. "hi handsome."

"hi honey," aaron chuckled quietly, amusingly wrapping an arm securely around your waist. his eyes scanned you, quick to notice your current state. "having fun?"

"a ton." you nodded giddily, "especially now, now that i'm with you." you reached past him, grabbing the santa hat perched atop derek's head - "hey!" - and sloppily onto aaron's, rather lopsidedly at that.

a giggle erupted from you, "look how cute you look!" you turned to derek, wrapping your arms loosely around aaron's neck. you squeezed him softly, causing your cheek to come flush with his. "isn't he so cute?"

derek snorted faintly, covering it up by bringing his drink to his lips. "he's a stunner, for sure."

aaron subtly glared at morgan, while you continued. "i love you, just so much." you placed a kiss on his cheek. and then another. and then another.

aaron laughed gently as his hands sprawled across the span of your back, holding you close - and steadily - to him. the more you littered kisses across his skin, the more his cheeks flushed, "what're you doing?"

"loving on you silly." you gave him an almost offended look, before your face returned to that soft, lovey-dovey expression. "because i love you. and i love being your wife." you took his face in your hands, planting a kiss onto his lips. "i love that i get to do this wheneverrr i want."

quick to reciprocate, but more reservedly in view of his colleagues, aaron gave you one more, small peck, "i love you too darling."

"you're perfect." your focus went back to derek, as emily and penelope joined the three of you as well. "he's perfect. wanna know what perfect things he does?"

"don't hold back on us," emily egged you on completely, at the playful expense of aaron - she shot him thoroughly entertained look.

"he gives me soo many back rubs, especially if i have a bad day. he leaves me sticky notes everywhere. on my coffee mug, on the bathroom mirror, on my pillow if he leaves early. i find a ton when you're all gone on a case, i don't even know how he does it." your nose scrunched a tad, befuddlement in your voice. "must be magic."

"and what do these notes say?" penelope asked eagerly, as if she's been waiting forever to hear details when it comes to a certain boss. (to be fair, she has.) (more often than not, you've spared them the specifics just as much as aaron.)

a wickedness came forth in your eyes, your lips pulling into a smirk. your hand found the back of aaron's neck, your fingers brushing through the nape of his hair. "he left me one yesterday that said he'd like to-"

"okay." aaron interrupted, kissing the spot of skin behind your ear and halting your words. "sweetheart, if you continue, i'll never hear the end of it."

you complied, but just for a second. "he's just so cute." you cheesed, pinching his cheek gently. despite the fact you were very much inebriated, you were well aware enough to not actually hurt him. "he's all i want for christmas." after your statement, your smirk quickly resurfaced, your current no-filter flowing freely. "i've been a good girl, haven't i, aaron?"

another snort exited a wide-eyed derek, and you missed the others' very taken aback reaction as your gaze shifted to aaron, whose blush was prominent as ever.

"what?" you pouted softly, confusion arising on your face.

a mix between a sigh and a breathless laugh left aaron through his nose, affectionately patting your hip and transferring the santa hat onto your head, "i think that's enough eggnog for you tonight."

[justauthoring]

This is the Beginning [1/?]

Summary: You never thought you'd be able to escape Buggy, and yet, a boy with a straw hat, a man with three swords and a girl with orange hair somehow manage to free you. The journey that follows afterwards is your chance at freedom and maybe something more.

A One Piece Live Action Rewrite

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

Pairing: Live Action!Zoro Roronoa x F!Reader

TW for this chapter: mental and physical abuse, ableism, Buggy is a whole warning himself, you're also blind in your right eye.

Word Count: 5,963

A/N: Here it is!! The first chapter! I've already started the second chapter because I'm so excited for this series but thought I'd get the first chapter out and see what you all think!

Feel free to leave a comment, reblog or send me an ask on your thoughts! I'd love to hear them :)

Chapter One - Your Angel Eye

The day you’re born, your left eye holds the complexion of an angel.

Sparkling white, the gasps that echo around the bed of your mother are unanimous. It’s an eye that no one has ever seen before. The single eye glows in the dim lit room, ethereal and almost magical. Your mother’s nursing maid tells your mother it’s a miracle, a sign of something great. Says it’s like an angel was born that day.

Or, at least, it would’ve been had you not been born blind in your right eye.

Still white, but murky and fogged, your right eye is glaringly different from your left.

The blessing you’d been born with is instantly cursed.

And you’ve felt that curse every day since.

-

Cabaji’s grip is tight as he yanks you along. Pinching and painful, but you bear it all with no more than a wince knowing that worse will be waiting for you should you try and argue.

At least, it’s your intention not to make a fuss. But his pace is too quick for you and you don’t have the time to gather your bearings before your hip is digging into the edge of a table. It causes you to trip, losing your footing. Cabaji lets go of you in response, your world tilting as the realization that you’re going to fall dawns on you. A flash of Cabaji’s blue and white scarf flitters past your vision and you’ve no doubt that the man has slithered away before your fall could bring attention to him.

Letting out a short yelp, you expect to feel your knees dig into the hardwood of the bar floor, only you never hit the ground.

Blinking, you glance back, only then registering the hands on your waist as you meet a pair of dark-brown kind eyes staring right back at you. The man who’d caught you has the brightest smile on his face, lips stretched wide and teeth glinting in the dim light of the bar. You blink at him, taking in the straw hat on his head as you slowly push yourself to your feet, his hands pulling back in response.

“A-Are you okay?”

You hadn’t even noticed the other boy sitting with him. His voice comes out in a timid squeak of concern, eyes assessing you behind big, round glasses.

“Oh. Y-Yeah,” you mumble, voice quiet, before turning back to the boy with the straw hat who’d caught your fall. He’s still staring up at you with those eyes and beaming smile. “Th-Thank you,” you shortly bow, twisting your fingers in your grasp nervously. 

You’re about to take a step back and turn around when the boy calls out;

“What’s with the eye-patch?”

His question comes out blunt, asked in a friendly, curious town as he glances up at you. It gives you pause, body tensing as you frown down at him.

“Luffy!” His timid friend exclaims, lips parting bafflement. His eyes shift frantically from you to his friend and back, as if unsure of how you’ll respond. You don’t really respond in anyway, per say, just gape wide-mouthed down at the pair, bewildered.

Luffy just continues to grin up at you. “It’s cool!” He cheers, care-free and earnest. “Are you a pirate?”

You’ve no idea how to respond and you’re pressingly aware that the longer you take, the more angry Cabaji will be. You’re sure to already receive an ear-full, if not worse, after being stupid enough to trip over your own feet. You don’t even want to think about what will happen the more you make him wait.

“No?” Luffy pauses, for the first time his smile faltering. It’s only for a second before it returns. “Because I—”

You don’t stick around to listen.

Your body reacts on impulse and before you even realize it you’re spinning around and racing out of the bar before Luffy can finish his sentence. You don’t dare glance back to see his reaction and you hope the strange boy won’t do something as silly as try and follow you.

You’ve just made it into the turn of the alley when your arm is caught by someone. At first, you fear it’s Luffy, but when your head snaps round to look, you’re faced with the steaming expression of Cabaji staring back at you, eyes blazing.

“Does stealth mean nothing to you, you idiot?” He hisses, towering over you by the sheer height of him as you lean back, avoiding his eyes. “It’s bad enough you tripped on your own two feet, but then you went and talked to someone?”

Face twisting at the pinching grip on your arm, you bite your lip. “I-I just thanked him for catching me,” you whisper, trying to hide the shrill of pain from your voice. “I didn’t tell him anything!”

Shoving you back by the arm, Cabaji huffs; “you better of not. We can’t go back to Buggy empty-handed or with the marines after us. He’ll want his map back.”

Swallowing thickly, you hug your now free arm. You avoid Cabaji’s eye as he stares down at you, choosing to focus on your feet.

“Better not screw this up, Y/N. You remember what happened last time you disappointed Buggy, right?”

Shuddering at the memory, you quickly nod. “I won’t mess up again,” you assure, finally meeting his eyes as you nod frantically. “I promise.”

Cabaji just quirks a brow; “we’ll see.”

-

While you and Cabaji hadn’t been able to return the map to Buggy directly, you hadn’t gone back empty-handed. Of course, Cabaji was the one who got to deliver the good news while you were directed to go to your small tent and wait until Buggy came for you.

After facing a sneer or two from passing members of the crew, you’d finally made it to your tent. With a huff, you fall back onto the small cot sat in the middle of the tent, pulling your knees up to your chest as you let your head fall. You hated when you were sent on missions; it didn’t matter who Buggy paired you up with, they were awful. No one on the crew liked you and so they found it fun to torment you as much as they could. It was, however, no doubt that Cabaji was one of the worst.

The twisted acrobatic found a particular joy in causing you pain and fear.

Letting your eyes fall shut, you try to savour the moment of peace before it’s inevitably taken away. It’s a wonder to you, though, why the second your eyes fall shut you envision those dark-brown kind eyes from earlier that day. Luffy, his friend had called him. The boy with the beaming smile and a straw hat. Such a small moment and yet, it’s the first thing your brain thinks of the moment you’re given the reprieve to.

Was it because he’d caught you? Was it because he’d been kind, if not a little strange? You’re not sure, and it doesn’t matter anyways. Luffy, his friend and two others, an orange-haired girl and green-haired swordsman had stolen the map from the marines and therefore, were now targets of Buggy’s. There was only one way that ended.

“Long day then, my Angel Eye?”

You start at the voice, eyes snapping open as you suddenly find Buggy in front of you, grinning down at you with that manic smile of his. You hadn’t even heard him come in, not his footsteps or the flap of your tent… You can feel your heart start to race at the sight of him and you’re trying to ignore the tremble of your body as you meet his eyes.

“C-Captain,” you greet, biting your lip.

He sighs, as if annoyed by your stuttering. “Come now, sweetie. Surely, we’re beyond that pointless stuttering of yours.”

Frowning, you glance at your feet. “Sorry.”

Shaking his head, Buggy just rolls his eyes. “Look at me.”

Instantly, snapping your gaze upwards, you meet his waiting gaze.

He grins wide. “Take off that eyepatch,” he orders sharply. “You know I don’t like you hiding.”

You want to argue. You want to say no. But you know you’ll only pay if you do, so, with just a second of hesitation, you reach up with nimble fingers to pull off the black eyepatch around your eye. Within seconds, Buggy is right in front of your face, bright red-nose touching your own as he stares deeply in your right eye.

His grin is not at all warming and enjoyable as Luffy’s had been. Instead, as he stares down at you, all you want to do is crawl in a hole and hide.

“Ah, I never get tired of seeing it.” He laughs, voice pitching. “So glaringly ugly compared to the beauty of your left eye.”

Swallowing thickly, you bite back the hurt. Buggy has said much worse things about you after all.

“Captain,” you find the courage to speak, figuring he’s probably the happiest he’ll be with you in that current moment. “Are you going after the map?”

Smile falling, Buggy leans back. “Duh,” he rolls his eyes. “It’s my map.”

Swallowing thickly, you try to ignore the pounding of your heart as you ask the next question. “And… the boy—the people who has your map?”

Buggy’s face twists, as if confused by your question. “I’ll kill them,” he shrugs, like it’s the obvious answer. “Like I always do.”

Your chest tightens. You don’t know why.

Standing to his full height, Buggy places his hands on hips.

“Come on then,” he grins down at you, “it’s time to greet the townsfolk.”

-

The day Buggy had found Orange Town was the day you realized you were never going to escape his crew. 

You’d watched as he and his crew decimated the town, destroying the houses and shops and leaving nothing in their wake. They’d done it all with smiles and laughs, ignoring the screams and cries of the townspeople as they begged him not to destroy their livelihoods. 

It had taken Buggy all of ten minutes to realize you were just standing there, frozen in place. His blinded rage had been terrifying, racing towards you as he screamed and cursed at you for standing there like an idiot. 

“If you don’t start moving,” he’d hissed, “I’ll kill them all.”

Letting out a sob, you’d shaken your head in a pathetic attempt at refusal.

“Hah!” Buggy had laughed before you could respond, throwing his head back in jest. “I’m going to kill them regardless.”

“No,” you’d argued, stunning him. The word had left your lips beyond your control, blinded by your desperation. “Please, don’t.”

Realistically, it had been nothing more than a pathetic plea. Buggy and the crew wouldn’t stop until he was satisfied and you asking him definitely wasn’t going to change that.

A moment of tense and uncomfortable silence had followed. The entire island had seemingly fallen silent, the rage of the crew halted and the cries of the townsfolk paused at your small, pathetic plea. You’d watched firsthand the glint that had shifted in Buggy’s eyes as he stared you down.

In seconds, he’d grabbed a handful of your hair and begun yanking you towards the line of townspeople the crew had cornered. As you tried to pull his grip off of you, feet kicking up the dust of the ground beneath you, the townspeople started whimpering and cowering at Buggy’s approach.

Then, you found yourself forced to your knees in front of them.

Their wide, terrified eyes stare back at you. Women clutching their children who are crying, the men trying to protect them. At the front sits the mayor, eyes afraid but shoulders squared in a last attempt of defiance.

“My faithful fans,” Buggy calls out, gesturing to the townspeople who flinched back at him. “I’d like to introduce you to my most precious treasure, Y/N! Do any of you want to venture and guess what makes her so precious?”

Head bowing, your fingers dig into the ground beneath you, cutting through your skin as silence echoes.

When Buggy doesn’t receive a response, he lets out a growl and suddenly, his hands are on you. Without an ounce of gentleness, he rips the eyepatch off of your face, nails scratching against your cheek.

Instantly, there’s an echo of gasps from the townspeople.

“Ugly, isn’t it?” Buggy laughs, taking your chin in his grasp and forcing your head up, presenting you to the crowd. The action strains your neck but Buggy only pulls harder. He cruelly pets your cheek, frowning down at you as if feeling pity for your sorry state. “Not only does it take away the beauty of her other eye but she’s blind too! Hah! A beautiful freak. And a disobedient one at that.”

His eyes shift to you once more, narrowing his gaze as he tightens his grip.

You let out a cry in response, jerking in his grasp but you can’t twist yourself out of it. 

“Why shouldn’t I just kill them all?” He asks you, using his free hand to gesture at the townspeople. “Why should they get to live?”

The cries and gasps of fear in response to Buggy’s words pierce your heart. You hear the whispers of them all, some begging for mercy, others trying to console and soothe; you don’t know if it’s for others or themselves. It’s heartbreaking; innocent people who’d been forced to bow and submit to a crazed man’s will. 

Focusing on Buggy’s waiting gaze, you swallow thickly.

“B-Because,” you gasp, trying to ignore the ache of his grip. “Who… Who would watch your show?”

An echoed beat of silence follows, before Buggy blinks at you.

You use that as your chance.

“If you kill them, there’ll be no one to watch your g-great performances.”

He lets go of you, pulling back to sweep his gaze across the townspeople as you fall down, exhausted. The hand that had been on you moves to his chin, rubbing thoughtfully as the rest of the crew starts to make their way over. 

“I can’t deny you’re right…” He mumbles, nodding to himself. You and the townspeople watch with bated breath, waiting for him to say more.

A minute later, he does. With a loud clap that makes you jump in fright and a maniacal smile returning to his face, Buggy turns to you.

“It’s decided!” He cheers, stepping towards you as you flinch back. “I’ll let them live.”

A breath of relief runs through and you hear the townspeople follow suit.

“But,” Buggy continues and your breath halts. “The cost of their life is on your shoulders, my dear.”

Brows furrowing, you shake your head. “Wh-What?

Buggy crouches in front of you, shoving his face into your own as he laughs. “Everytime any one of them steps out of line, it’ll be you that pays. In whatever way I see fit. That’s the price for their lives.”

Biting your lip, you feel your heart fall to the pit of your stomach. You should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. That Buggy wouldn’t let it be that easy.

With strain, you push yourself up, moving so your hands are on your knees rather than crouched over into the ground. You grip your pants tightly, trying to ignore the race of your heart. You can feel the townspeople watching you, unsure, and the sneers of the rest of the crew as they laugh at your situation.

“Okay,” you whisper.

“Hmm?” Buggy taunts, leaning forward as if he hadn’t heard you. “What was that, dear?”

“Okay,” you repeat, louder, meeting his eyes. “As long as you let them live.”

All you receive in response is a laugh, loud and terrifying. With one final glance down at you, Buggy spins on the spot, practically prancing away from you.

The second his eyes are off of you, you sink to the ground.

“M-Miss?”

The voice is quiet, but still you hear it. Turning your head, you find the Mayor crouched down in front of you.

“Thank you.”

You blink back at him, silent. Silent because you don’t have the heart to tell him that there was no point thanking you—you might’ve spared their lives but that didn’t mean they were in any less danger. 

You didn’t know how to tell them what a crazed monster Buggy was.

So you just don’t say anything.

-

A cry leaves your lips, knees digging into the hardwood and trying to ignore the violent shake of your body that follows at the sound of laughter.

With sweat beading on your skin and muscles aching in exhaustion, you glance at your feet the second you hear footsteps grow closer.

“Such a shame, Y/N.” Buggy coos down at you mockingly. “You still don’t have the moves perfected.”

Gritting your teeth, you huff; “that’s because you’ve never taught me them!”

A loud snap and radiating sting is what follows your outburst, a cry leaving your lips as you curl into yourself. Clutching your aching cheek, you glance up at Buggy. 

“As a member of my crew and a freak of my performance, you should know the moves.” Buggy grunts down at you, shaking his head at you like you’re a petulant child. “Such a shame too. I’m sure our audience was looking forward to the performance too, right?”

At Buggy’s words and the sign held in their direction, a cheer of forced “yes’s” follow, echoing.

Angered at the sight of the chained ‘audience’, you shake your head. “They’d like to be set free.” You hiss, narrowing your eyes up at Buggy.

Buggy’s lips curl into a sneer. You curl back instantly, seeing the crazed look in his eyes.

Taking a step towards you, his hand disconnects from his wrist, moving towards you. “I’m sick and tired of you—“

“Captain! Captain!”

Suddenly Mohji comes running in, the flap of the tent flipping up behind him as he races towards Buggy with a grin.

“What?” Buggy hisses, his detached hand inches from you as he glares at Mohji. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“We caught them,” Mohji cheers, pointing behind him. “We’ve got the map!”

-

The instant the mayor speaks up, you fear the worst.

From the back of the crowd, hidden amongst the townspeople and the rest of the crew, you’d been deliberate in avoiding calling attention to yourself. The second the crew had brought in the crate they’d used to capture Luffy and his friends, you’d made it your goal to avoid being seen. You doubted Luffy would even remember you anyways, as you’d all but ran from him.

You feared how Buggy would react too in the slim chance Luffy did recognize you.

So, despite the discomfort you felt at watching Buggy torture Luffy, you’d forced yourself to remain silence and quiet. Even if you tried to stand up to Buggy and help Luffy, you wouldn’t be able to stop him.

All that would do is get you hurt and maybe others too.

Luffy was just some boy you’d randomly met in that bar. Met isn’t even the right word. He’d stopped you from falling and had tried to talk to you, but you’d turned tail and ran the second he had.

It was best you stayed hidden and hoped that Buggy would kill them soon and then you could just forget all about Luffy and his friends.

That’s what you should do.

That’s what you intended on doing.

“Hey, kid!”

Eyes widening, you watch as Buggy races towards the crowd, grabbing a kid by the neck.

“You want to get tall fast?”

Your body moves on instinct, feet taking you forward before you can even register what you’ve done.

“Buggy!”

Halting at the sound of your voice, the crowd stills, the child still in his grasp, Buggy twists his head to glance at you. Instantly, the smile on his face twists into a frown as he glares at you. Leaning back, his grip leaves the kid as he shakes his head.

“Was wondering where you snuck off too, Angel Eye.” He growls, and you inhale sharply.

“I thought the cost of their lives was on my shoulders,” you breathe, clenching your fists in an attempt to soothe the racing of your heart. “Leave the kid alone.”

Buggy hesitates, lips parting, but before he can say anything, Luffy’s voice cuts in;

“Hey,” he’s suddenly calling, voice light-hearted and not at all the tone someone should have in the predicament he’s currently stuck in. “Aren’t you the girl from the bar? The one who ran away?”

Body tensing, you freeze in place.

So he did recognize you.

Letting out a shaky breath, you slowly turn your head to meet Luffy’s waiting gaze, watching as his squinted eyes slowly widen in recognition.

“It is you!” He exclaims, laughing. “Where’s your cool eye patch?” 

You don’t respond, terrified eyes turning back to Buggy who glances between you and Luffy.

“Please,” you choose instead to focus back on the kid, pleading. “Leave the boy alone. Let me pay the price for the mayor speaking out.” Pressing your hand to your chest, you plead.

Buggy stares at you for a moment, before letting out a loud laugh.

“I did once tell you that,” he snorts, “but I’ve changed my mind.”

He’s spinning, grabbing the kid and yanking him to his feet before you can even think to respond. You gasp in response, racing forward, but before you can reach him, Buggy has spun the boy and himself around to face Luffy.

“Boogie,” Luffy starts, “I’m warning you.”

Jerking the kid, Buggy hisses; “it’s Buggy! And you’re warning me? Now that’s a laugh.”

He pauses, and all that’s heard in response is the sound of the boy letting out a small gasp of fright.

“I said,” Buggy sighs, “that’s a laugh.”

Instantly, a chorus of forced and frightened laughter echoes.

“Buggy,” you call, “please. Don’t hurt him!”

You try to take a step towards Buggy but before you can make it a single step, your wrist is grabbed by another. You whip around in response, only to see the edge of a blade held directly at your throat. One of Buggy’s crew grins back at you.

You mentally curse yourself for being trapped so easily, useless to do anything to help the kid when the sound of Luffy yelling catches your attention.

His hands, which have been stretched wide thanks to the Gum Gum Devil Fruit he’d eaten, are slipping through the restraints holding him hostage. You watch with wide eyes and parted lips as he frees himself, falling to the ground with a thud the second his wrist slips through the cuff.

Standing, he glares at Buggy; “put him down.”

“But why?” Buggy laughs, and your eyes fall back on him in fear for the kid. “He’s having such a great time. Aren’t you, junior?”

To answer his own question, Buggy forces the kids lips into a smile. 

“Yes,” he says in a child’s voice. “The best, Buggy.”

Luffy only hesitates a second, before he’s flinging his fist back, arm stretching like rubber behind him as he bellows; “gum gum…” Then, his hand swings forward, landing a hit right on Buggy’s face. “Pistol!”

You watch in shock he’d managed to land a hit on Buggy, but no hope floods you.

You know the ability Buggy holds.

As you expect, his head detaches from his neck, falling into the lap of one of the townspeople which causes an uproar of terror, screams following in response.

“Well, well, well,” Buggy calls from the lap he’d landed on, flipping his head round so it’s straight up. “Looks like we have something else in common,” he chuckles, before returning his head to his body. The only relief you feel is the sight of him letting the kid go.

“You ate a Devil Fruit?” Luffy asks.

“The Chop Chop Fruit,” Buggy clarifies, before stepping forward. As he does, he takes off his jacket before pieces of his body begin to separate for emphasis. “So you can slice me and you can dice me, but I’ll always put myself back together again. Wanna see what else I can do?”

Attached again, you watch as Buggy raises his right arm, the hand gone.

Your eyes widen. 

“Luffy, watch—!”

It’s too late. The second Luffy’s head turns round, Buggy has already squashed the fruit in his grasp, effectively knocking Luffy out.

You watch his body hit the ground with a thud.

“Y/N,” Buggy calls, pulling your eyes on him as your whole body tenses. “Me and you need to have a little chat.”

-

“Let me out! Hey! Let me out!”

Shaking the bars of the cage, you know realistically no matter how loud you scream or hard you pull, no ones coming to get you nor are you getting free. Buggy had locked you in the familiar cage shortly after everything, locking it with a smile on his face and the promise that he’d come to set you free later.

When he felt like it.

And then you and him would hash out your “differences”, he’d said. Grinning and eyes shining with malice and intent to hurt, you’d tried to ask for his forgiveness but he’d only left you begging without a single glance back.

That had been fifteen, maybe twenty minutes ago and you hadn’t heard anything or seen Buggy or a single member of the crew.

It wasn’t the first time Buggy had locked you in this cage. You could no longer keep track of the amount of times you’d been forced into the small cage for “punishment”, whether by your own actions or those of the townspeople. You hated it and that’s exactly why Buggy kept you in here, because he knew how much it terrified you to be trapped like this.

It felt worse this time, though. Worse because you knew that Luffy was in danger and potentially the townspeople too. Buggy’s insistence to go after that boy showed you he was growing bored of using you as a scapegoat every time the townspeople did something he didn’t like. You knew no matter how much he hurt you, he’d never kill you. Buggy had some sort of sick fascination with you, and if he simply planned on getting rid of you, he would’ve done it already.

The townspeople though? Luffy? He’d definitely kill them.

“Please!” You bellow, voice screeching in your desperation as you shake the door of the cage, the metal clanging against itself with no give. “Buggy!”

The only thing you’re given in response is more silence.

Hugging your knees to your chest, you bite your lip to hold back the sob that threatens to pull from your lips. You were so sick of this. So sick of all of this. Being a captive of Buggy’s, forced to be his play thing day in and day out and watching innocent people be hurt and murdered around you constantly.

You hated it.

Feeling your eyes water, you sniffle, throat burning from your screaming and hands aching with how hard you’d been pulling as you accept the fact that Buggy was going to leave you here until he wanted to free you.

And you weren’t going to get out any other way.

A few minutes of silence pass, stuck in your thoughts and trying to keep the panic at bay, before footsteps echo. You sit up immediately, twisting the small bit you can in the cage, waiting to see the familiar face of Buggy walk through the tent.

Only, it isn’t Buggy who walks in.

It’s the green-haired swordsman you’d seen with Luffy.

He pauses at the sight of you as you gape up at him.

Then, a minute later, he’s blinking; “who are you?”

A second passes, one, two, and then your lips part in disbelief.

“What are you doing here?” You breath, bewildered. “Shouldn’t you be… Didn’t Buggy…?”

The man shrugs. “I was looking for booze,” he points behind himself. “I escaped.”

You’re absolutely floored.

“And Luffy?”

“He did too,” the man nods, shifting to set his hands on his swords again. You frown when you realize there’s three. “Clown guy’s defeated.”

That gives you pause. Wide eyed, you gape at him; “you defeated Buggy?”

“Naturally,” the man snorts.

Lips parting, you find no words to respond and instead, stare back at him as if he’d grown an additional head, baffled.

You don’t have to find the words though, because in the next second, a cheery voice is calling out; “Zoro!”

Luffy comes racing in through the tent in the next second, followed by the orange-haired girl. You blink, gripping the bars of your cage as you watch Luffy bound up to the man, Zoro, oblivious to the way he pulls away from him in response.

Then, Luffy’s eyes fall on you.

“Eyepatch girl!”

Zoro frowns. “She’s not wearing an eyepatch.”

“Ah, but she was!” Luffy cheers, pointing at you. “It was so cool!”

“We should hurry up,” the girl cuts in, looking unimpressed as her eyes flicker over you briefly before turning back to Luffy and Zoro. “I don’t want the marines catching up to us.”

“True, true,” Luffy nods.

“You find anything useful?” Zoro asks, glancing at the girl.

“Not really,” the girl shrugs, “most of it is just weird circus crap. Now,” she shifts to Luffy. “Can we go?”

You watch the whole conversation in astonished silence. It doesn’t even occur to you to ask them what happened, if Buggy’s whole crew was defeated or most importantly set you free. The whole nonchalance of their conversation stuns you stupid.

“Should let the girl go, no?” Zoro asks, pointing at you. You straighten when the attention is turned to you. “Or am I the only one noticing she’s in a cage?”

The girl's eyes meet yours before settling on the large lock keeping you trapped. “I found a set of keys on one of the guys. Here.” She slips past Zoro and Luffy, heading towards you. Stopping right in front of you, she starts filtering through the keys.

“It’s, uh, that one,” you point at one smaller key. “I’ve seen it before when, well, the other times I’ve been locked in here.” Your voice quiets as you finish your sentence, curling in on yourself at the attention that garners you.

The girl just nods.

In the next minute, you’re on your feet, standing in front of the three of them.

“Now can we go?”

“Sure, Nami,” Luffy grins, “just one last thing.”

He’s spinning round to face you, and then his hands are on your shoulders and his beaming smile is focused solely on you.

“Join my crew.”

Silence.

Then, “what?”

You, Zoro and Nami all echo it, voices loud, pitched and in disbelief as Luffy just grins at you.

“You were a part of Buggy’s crew, yeah?” He asks and you slowly nod. “Perfect, then you’ve already got the experience.”

“What, I—” Stumbling over your words, you shake your head. “You don’t even know my name. I mean… I was a part of Buggy’s crew. The same crew who just held you all captive! Shouldn’t that make me… like your guys’ enemy or something?”

“Nah,” Luffy waves you off. “You looked pretty miserable with him. Not to mention, we found you in a cage. Plus, I saw you stand up for that kid. That’s the kind of person I need on my crew.”

You just stare at him, then Zoro, then the girl, and though they look unimpressed, you notice they are staring back at you almost as if they expect you to come with them too.

Were any of these people normal?

“I’m a lousy fighter.”

“No problem,” Luffy shrugs. “Zoro can teach you.”

“Don’t volunteer me,” Zoro huffs, bopping Luffy on the head.

He doesn’t argue though.

“I’m a freak.” You say, trying to come up with a reason why asking you to come with them was a terrible choice. You figured since Buggy had spent enough of his time reminding you of the fact, surely Luffy would agree.

Luffy shakes his head. “Your eyes are cool! They don’t even match,” he laughs, “and I like your eyepatch too.”

“Luffy,” the girl hisses at him, lowering her voice. “Have some tact. She’s… blind in her right eye.”

Luffy turns to look at her, before turning back to you, lips parted and head tilted as if in curiosity.

“It’s true,” you mumble, pressing your hand to your eye, covering it from sight. You definitely needed to find your eyepatch. You hated not having it on. “I can’t see anything with this eye. Another reason why you shouldn’t want me on your crew. I’m… I’d be no help…”

You don’t dare glance at any of them, fearing the looks you’d receive in response. You didn’t want to see their pity and you definitely don’t want to see the disgust on their faces at your disability.

“That—!”

“You’ve got nowhere else to go, right?” Zoro cuts off whatever Luffy had been about to say. You meet his eyes in disbelief, not expecting him to be the one to speak up before frowning and giving him a nod. “Might as well come with us then.”

Staring at him a moment longer, you let your eyes fall on the girl, who simply shrugs back at you before turning back to Luffy’s beaming expression. He nods at you excitedly, eagerly urging you to agree.

Not knowing how else to decline and knowing deep in your heart you don’t want to, you nod.

“O-Okay.”

-

After Luffy had backtracked to grab a single bun of the food the mayor and town had tried to offer them, you hesitate on following.

Your eyes follow him as he jumps up on the boat and you see the three of them staring back at you, waiting. But your feet won’t move. There’s a moment where you just stand there, before you turn, bowing your head down and saying the words you’ve wanted to say since that day Buggy had landed on Orange Island.

“I’m so sorry.”

Eyes falling shut, you grip the sides of your shirt, waiting for the anger you expect to receive from the townspeople. You’d been a part of the crew that had tortured them and destroyed their town; you wouldn’t be surprised if they wanted to kill you themselves.

When you don’t hear anything, you slowly glance up at them.

Only to see them all smiling down at you.

“We should be the ones apologizing,” the mayor dismisses, shaking his head at you as he urges you to stand back up. “And thanking you. You saved our lives that day.”

Shoulders falling, something warm floods you at his words in the midst of the astonishment you feel.

“We owe you a great deal, little lady.” The mayor nods, and before you can say anything, the whole town is bowing to you. They move in sync with each other, heads bowed and you can hardly believe your eyes. “Thank you.”

“I… Oh!” Hands falling to your lips, you ignore the way your vision blurs through your watery left eye, shaking your head. “Please, it’s okay! I’m… I’m just relieved you’re all free now thanks to them.”

They slowly stand up, and you let your gaze sweep across the crowd.

“I wish you the best of luck with your journey,” the mayor smiles down at you. “And hope to see you again someday.”

You smile at him one last time, stepping back as you wave to the townspeople. They return your wave, sending you all off with smiles and wishes of good luck.

Then, as you reach the boat, you find Luffy grinning back down at you.

“Let’s go!”

[h3rmess]

SL*T ME OUT

Written by @h3rmess ✰ | KINKTOBER (late entry)

"eat the d*** like you was ugly" ☆

After the U-20 match, oliver and the others decide to go out and have some fun. They go to a karaoke booth to let loose and forget about their loss. Oliver wants you to help him blow off some steam in a different way...

notes : this was meant to be for kinktober but I forgot to upload... I love aiku so so much!! I literally started screaming when I saw him in episode 5

WARNINGS : oliver aiku x fem!reader, oral (m receiving), facefucking, masturbation (f), picture taking, semi-public oral sex???, pet names, praise, swearing, no relationship (that's how aiku is ☹️)

"Where is he?" You whispered, holding your phone in your hand as you walked away from the arcade, into the area where the karaoke booths were.

You kept checking your phone in case a text from him magically appeared, hoping that he would come to save you from this bewilderment.

"Wow, look at that!" A low, husky voice spoke from behind you, forcing you to turn around abruptly.

Hands in the pockets of his kit and leaning against the wall, he offered you an irresistible smirk that made your heart race.

"Really went all out for me, huh?" He commented, observing the short, body-con dress you wore. In this setting, you looked like you belonged in a club.

He took a step towards you, standing up properly once more as he towered over you, your chin lifted behind comfort to meet his gaze.

"Oliver!" You exclaimed with a smile. "How was the match? I didn't get time to check the end results."

He rubbed the back of his neck with a solemn sigh, "We lost..."

Your expression displayed remorse as you pulled him into a hug. "You played amazingly, though. I was so proud to see you on the screen. You were definitely remarkable." You spoke, recalling his outstanding plays.

"Hmm, yeah... I'm still super bummed though. I thought we were gonna win." He pouted as he looked away.

"You seem pretty upset..." You spoke softly.

"I am. That's why I wanted to see you." He looked back at you slowly.

"Huh?"

"Y'know, I've been so stressed lately. I've had way too much practice and not enough time to...unwind." He tried to mask his smirk with a sombre look, but you saw through it.

"And what exactly does that have to do with me?" You questioned, knowing exactly what he was implying.

"Well, you're here, all pretty and dolled up. Let's not let it go to waste." He looked at you, his eyes predatory.

"What are you suggesting we do?" You prompted, your heart rate increasing as you became more nervous. Your palms began to excrete sweat as he leaned in closer to you.

"How about we ruin that makeup of yours, huh?" He grinned, his hands suddenly groping your waist.

"And how exactly... do you plan on doing that?" You felt breathless as you huffed out a response.

"Acting dumb are we now, baby? Why don't I fuck that mouth of yours so we don't have any more stupid responses?" His straightforward suggestion left your stomach tumbling, a new pulse being formed in your womanhood.

You were lost for words as he took you by your arm and dragged you into the booth, shutting the door.

"I told the others to get here in 30 minutes. That should be enough time." He sat down, looking up at you with a stern glance.

"Whatcha waiting for? On your knees." He commanded as you complied immediately, his voice forcing you into submission.

"That's a good girl..." He smiled as he stroked your face. You nuzzled into his touch, his huge hands bringing you comfort. He brushed his thumb carefully over your lips, slightly smearing the pink, shimmery gloss on them. You sat patiently on your knees, waiting for his next move.

Looking up with lusful eyes, you let his thumb slip into your mouth. Your face heated up slightly with embarrassment as you tried your best to maintain eye contact.

He removed his thumb from your mouth and lifted your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his once more. He let go, his hands reaching for his waistband. He lowered his slacks slightly, allowing him to slip himself out of his confinement.

His dick hit his abdomen instantly as he hissed, clearly needy as the pre-cum dripped down his swollen tip.

His hand gripped his member carefully as he pumped his length for a while, his breath becoming heavier by the second.

Your cheek was hit with a slap from his dick as he smirked down at you, infatuated by the size difference. You both wondered how you were meant to fit all of him in your mouth.

"Open up, doll." He commanded, his tip nearing your mouth. You followed his order, immediately being met by the bitter yet intoxicating taste of his arousal.

Your jaw slackened to accommodate his size, which was proving quite difficult.

Gripping your hair gently, he pushed your head forward, your face nearing his base. Tears began to form in your eyes as you gagged and choked slightly, overwhelmed by his huge size.

He pushed himself fully into your mouth with a grunt, his inability to hold back becoming clear.

"Fuck..." He said with clenched teeth. "Taking me so well, aren't ya? Putting that... ah- pretty mouth to good use, huh?" His thrusts started to hit deeper, increasing in speed. His words and actions did nothing but add fuel to the fire, igniting a feeling in you that you couldn't resist giving into.

Saliva leaked from the corners of your mouth as you choked around him, his thrusts relentless. You noticed some of your lip gloss on his base, which somehow turned you on even more.

His grunts and moans became more frequent as his pumped into your warm mouth even harder, throwing his head back slightly.

"Fuck...'m so close, baby... Gonna be a doll and take it? Gonna swallow everything I give to you?" He questioned, maintaining eye contact the entire time. You hummed around his cock, your hand reaching into your panties to gain some relief as your clit throbbed.

Your mind became hazy as you stopped thinking, completely submitting to Oliver and your growing lust. Your pussy was leaking. You dragged some of your arousal from your empty hole to your clit, rubbing it at a pace that instantly caused you to start moaning.

Oliver chuckled and then threw his head back, your vibrations sending him closer and closer to the edge. His grip on your head became more firm, his thrusts hitting deeper than ever before.

"Mmm, baby, I'm gonna- fuckkk..." He could barely form a sentence which made you laugh when you thought back to this moment ; not that you would've done any better.

You never stopped stimulating your nerves. You felt a warmth building as your stomach felt knotted. You kept playing with yourself as he used your mouth.

"Keep touching your little pussy... just like that." He forced out, speaking to you proving difficult as he almost reached his high.

You looked up at him, your makeup smeared, your eyes teary and lidded. That was all it took. His thrusts became sloppy as he let loose, his head thrown all the way back, moans escaping him like never before.

His liquid poured into your mouth, sitting on your tongue, filling you up. He came a lot. His thrusts continued for a while as you felt your orgasm approaching.

"Don't swallow yet, princess."

You blindly obliged.

"Can I take a picture? You look so pretty like this."

And for some bizarre reason, those were the words that made you cum. You nodded, holding him and his juices in your mouth as you shook, your eyes rolling back slightly. You whined and whimpered as you saw a bright flash come from Oliver's phone. Your vision was blurry, obscured by tears as you stopped your relentless torture on your pussy.

You tried to calm your breathing as Oliver spoke.

"Open your mouth."

You did as he said, watching him posting his phone to take another picture. His dick was still in your mouth. After taking the picture, he removed his half-hard dick from your opening.

"I'm gonna take a video now, okay?" You hummed in response.

He pressed record, his hand reaching down to grip your cheeks, squishing them in a way that forced your mouth open. You whimpered slightly at his sudden movement.

"Look at how pretty she is." He spoke, the camera focusing on your eye makeup that was far beyond saving.

"Holding my cum in her mouth just like I asked her to." He grinned down at you.

"Swallow it." He commanded, the camera still rolling. You closed your mouth to swallow with a gulp, reopening it to prove you had done as he asked.

"Such a good girl..." He let go of your face, grabbing his dick once more.

"Lick it clean for me, doll."

You immediately started licking, as if you were hungry for it.

His phone remained in your face, but at this point, you didn't care.

Your tongue made its way along his length, being sure to capture any left over cum on it. You stuck your tongue out, moving it up to his tip as you looked straight into the camera.

"Fuck... don't do that. You're gonna make me hard again." His dick twitched slightly.

And yet, you continued until all of his mess was cleaned up, letting go of his dick that was now almost fully hard again.

He stopped recording.

"I'm gonna get you back for this... Just you wait." He remarked.

You smiled at him as he helped you up onto your feet again.

"You'd better go home. I mean, unless you want anyone seeing you in this state. " He suggested. Typical of him.

You reached into your handbag, pulling out some make-up wipes to clean the mess he had left your face in.

Meanwhile, Oliver unlocked his phone, a notification appearing, telling him that the boys were outside.

"Shit, they're here." He panicked slightly as you finished up, turning towards him.

He placed a short kiss on your lips. "See you soon, beautiful. I'll be messaging you, so don't you dare turn off your phone, got that?"

"Okay. Bye, Oliver." You waved, leaving before his teammates could make it into the booth.

Oliver Aiku was such a dog... and yet, you couldn't help but come back for more.

[enwoso]

Lovie fic nye party and Lovie is desperate to stay up till midnight but alessia doesn’t want to let that happen so makes the whole party fake that its new years before it actually is so Lovie can celebrate with them

MIDNIGHT MAGIC | alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

it was new year's eve and you were bursting with with excitement. you were bouncing around the living room in a sparkled dress, your hair done to perfection with sparkly bobbles and hair slides as your face was painted with enthusiasm.

since you had been told about new year's eve by beth one afternoon while you waited for your mummy, you'd non stop talking about staying up until midnight.

but with that, your mummy knew there was no way you would make it. knowing you would be flat out asleep by the time the clock even struck ten pm.

you were a ball of energy but once that energy drained and it inched closer to your bedtime, your eyelids grew heavy faster than anyone could even say 'happy new year'

but alessia had a plan. an elaborate one that would ensure you felt like you had experienced the full midnight celebration without the inevitable crash into your slumber.

"alright, lovie. are you ready for the party?" alessia asked as her voice too was full of excitement, though her heart ached a little sing how determined you were. "but you have to promise me you'll try your best to stay awake"

you nodded, your eyes wide and gleaming, "i will stay awake, mummy i promise i'll wait for the fireworks and i'll say happy new year to all the girls"

alessia smiled, pushing your little head back which had '2025' in silver sparkly letters big and proud on it "tonight will be so special and you won't believe whose made the journey!"

you gasped, "who? who?" you asked, you asked your little legs hopping up and down in excitement.

"you'll have to wait and see" alessia dragged out her last word as a small huff came from you.

all the arsenal girls had been invited by alessia and had promised to help alessia with making tonight magical for you, the living room had been transformed into a festive wonderland, fairy lights twinkling— which you had helped put up, as well as a big balloon banner which read happy new year across the wall.

as well as your favourite part a table piled high with all of your favourite treats — mini cupcakes, juice cartons and of course enough crisps to feed a small army.

the plan was simple, set up a fake countdown and let you celebrate with all of your favourite people.

the doorbell rang and your eyes grew wide as saucers, "is that them, mummy? is that them?" alessia grinned as she nodded, helping you to open the door as all the arsenal girls were here.

each and every one complimenting how cute you looked as alessia hugged each one as they walked into her home. but as each one came in, you waved to beth and then you face lit up as you spotted someone who definitely didn't play in arsenal reds anymore.

"vivvy!" you squealed rushing into her arms, giving her a big hug as viv laughed at your reaction. "you came! beth said you might not be able to come"

"i wouldn't have missed it for the world, klein"

"how come i never get that type of reaction?" beth huffed as she leaned against the banister, alessia giggling at beth's reaction.

"beth she sees you at least five days a week-"

"and?”

once you had got over the star struck of viv making the journey down settling into a rhythm with the arsenal girls being around your house, music filling your ears until.

"where's my favourite little russo?" a voice with a thick accent called out as your head shot up. there was only one person who had a favourite russo.

"mummy? is that tooney?" you gasped as you looked towards your mummy, the smile giving away everything as she nodded.

you quickly getting up and making your way to the hallway, "auntie ella!" you squealed rushing into her arms as she hugged you once she'd put her bags down.

"'ello tiny, i've missed ya!" ella smiled as she tickled your side, earning a few giggles from you as you went to inspect what she had brought for you.

"are these for me?" you asked pointing to the chocolate cakes decked with icing and cool decoration. ella nodding as you rushed to tell your mummy with such excitement as ella followed you into the living room, saying her hellos to the arsenal girls.

your body was filled with even more excitement than you thought was even possible. all surrounded by those you loved, it was a dream come true for you.

but as much fun as it was, alessia had a little secret up her sleeve to ensure you didn't realise what was going on.

as the night grew later, alessia had kept a careful eye on the time, both the real time and the fake clock. when the real time had hit just past 7:55 pm which was exactly thirty-five minutes before your bedtime — alessia was beginning to gather everyone for the 'countdown'

"lovie, cmon it's time! we are gonna do out countdown for the new year!" alessia announced with a wink as ella helped to round everyone up.

you jumped up and down, "yay! i'm ready! i'll say happy new year like big girl!" you cheered umping up and down and clapping your tiny hands.

the girls all gathered around, pretending to check their watches making dramatic faces as if they were waiting for the clock to strike twelve.

"ten... nine... eight..." alessia started, and the room filled with cheers. "seven... six... five..." everyone joined in, chanting with exaggerated excitement.

in the moment, kyra was really paying attention as she glanced down at her own phone and at the time and then up to the other, "it's literally only-" she stopped herself mid-sentence, her eyes widening as she realised now what alessia meant by an early new years, "oh.. uh happy new year tiny!"

the room erupted in laughter as your eyes sparkled, you hadn't even noticed the slip up. too focused on watching the large clock on the wall strike, twelve. as you popped your party popper. "happy new year!" you shouted as you clapped your hands like a pro.

ella leaned over to alessia and whispered with a wink, "she's going to remember this for years. the best party"

alessia couldn't help but smile, "i think we done a pretty good job!" alessia paused as ella hummed in agreement before alessia broke into small laughter, "we aren't going to hear the end of that fact she's seen the real midnight, though"

as the fake new year's celebration continued, the team showered you with love, played games and even with a small persuasion game with your mummy were allowed to kick the ball around in the living room.

even if you did have to help kyra and katie hide the fact that the three of you had broken one of your mummy's ornaments that had lived on the coffee table for ages. but alessia wouldn't notice that it wasn’t there? and you would maybe tell your mummy about that later..

but by the time the actual midnight came around, you'd been changed into your pyjamas and were already fast asleep, snuggled up on the couch. your tiny hands clutching your esme the elephant teddy.

alessia looking down at you, her little girl, her heart full. she'd given you the magic of the night and you own kind of special celebrations and you could wake up tomorrow thinking you had stayed up till the very end of the year.

as a content left your mummy's lips, she whispered, "happy new year my lovie. you're my favorite part of every year."

and as she kissed your forehead, she could already picture next years celebrations. but for now, alessia savoured this moment knowing she'd made it a memory to last forever.

[suhlogic]

paradise [kim mingyu x fem!oc]

summary: going to la union for a temporary escape from your busy city life was supposed to just be all about you, not until you meet a hot stranger at a bar and things escalate quite interestingly for the week.

warnings: slight age gap, dom!mingyu, sub!reader, unprotected sex, choking kink, creampie, size kink, praise kink, dry humping in a semi-public place, biting kink (slight), cum-eating

[🔞]

your city life proved to be exhausting, still navigating everything at 21 despite being independent and already moved out of your parents' house but the corporate life was a bitch to deal with on top of your mother nagging you to fulfill your filial duties as the eldest child to provide when they are still fully capable of supporting themselves and your younger sibling. so here you were, driving alone in your car on the way to la union to unplug for a week. the car ride was boring and tiring since your friends were all busy and you didn't want to ride a bus alone. finally, you arrived at your hotel early morning and got everything settled before you slept to make up for the exhaustion.

after a good few hours of decent sleep, you decide to get ready for the beach and put on a light red bikini that was just held together by strings that was properly showing off your huge tits. you also put on a skirt and a thin knitted coverup while your hair was up in a cute claw clip and grabbed your small tote bag on your way out to have some fun while the sun sets. as you reach the seaside, you decided to lay your towel on the sand and put your bag on it as you enjoyed swimming in the water basking in the sun.

[11:00pm]

after washing up back at your hotel room to grab dinner at the bar, you put on a pink dress with a thigh-high slit that was backless with just a pair of lace panties underneath. as you make your way into a chair by the bar counter and order your food, you mind your own business. after all, the fun doesn't start until the alcohol gives you enough courage to get fucked by a handsome stranger.

sipping on your cocktail was already affecting you and noticed that a tall handsome guy, with sharp gentle features and a short cropped haircut was eyeing you. his sun-kissed skin looking perfect under the strobing lights, athletically built body showing off through the shirt he's left the few buttons open with biceps practically begging to rip through its sleeves. but you weren't going to make it easy for him, catching his stares and waving back at the mystery guy. luring him to come over to your spot, and it fucking worked like magic.

his aura was intoxicating. the moment he leaned in to whisper something in your ear, he immediately had you hooked. "so what's a pretty girl like you doing in this place?" he smirked. you felt taken aback by his deep voice, his breath being minty with a hint of the gin and tonic he was drinking earlier. "just looking to have fun,although i've heard the real fun starts in the bedroom" you bite back with a smile from your pink glossy lips.

he laughed at the smooth rebuttal and reached his hand out to introduce himself, "feisty, i see...it's so rude that i didn't introduce myself. i'm mingyu by the way," he said. "and i'm _____," you shake his hand. "you know, i could show you a fun time what do you say?" his huge hand grabs the small of your back, the tension and close proximity making you yearn for his touch. the flashing lights and the music thumping on full blast against the speakers felt so right under the hot twinkling stars on a summer night,

"don't worry baby, they're too busy to care about what we're doing" he whispers as he holds you tighter and grinds his clothed member against your ass harder, "fuck, let's get out of here...my room." you whine as you begin to face him and grab his hand, leaving after paying your tabs.

once it was all settled, you and mingyu began to walk back to your hotel with hands intertwined together no one but the stars and the waves crashing against the shore witnessing romance brewing between the two of you as the music began to fade into the distance. the walk back to your place consisted of laughter and getting to know each other more, you began to learn that he was also getting away from the chaos of the city—family stuff, in his own words. not long after, the two of you made your way inside the elevator and pressed the floor where your room was.

you grab him by this nape and pull him in for a kiss, tasting your sweetness on his tongue and glistening pink lips which turns heated the moment your hands travel down his toned abs and into his boxers, feeling up his manhood—lengthy, thick and hard. you pull his pants down along with his underwear as his dick springs free slapping against his stomach past his belly button.

"will it fit?" you give him your best doe eyes as you begin to jerk him off, spreading his precum around the slit of his bulbous mushroom tip. "don't tease me, i need to be inside you now." he moans, the lust in his eyes darkening as he takes his dick in his hand and rubs it up and down your wet folds before inserting it slowly. his tip feeling hot and heavy against your wetness, moaning at how his dick feels inside you.

"didn't expect to pick up a hot stranger like you tonight..." you smirk, shifting to sit up on the bed while he grabs a towel to clean the both of you up and runs a bath. "i've had my eyes on you since you walked into the bar , i'm glad the night ended with you under me," he teasingly winks as he motions for you to come sit in between his legs and starts to wipe you down.

but mingyu couldn't help leaving slow and soft kisses down your cheeks and down your jawline as he cleans you up, "babe... don't start now, i can barely walk," you laugh, trying to suppress your moans. "i can carry you anywhere, don't worry," he whispers as you lean your neck to face him and pull him in for another kiss. after cleaning the two of you up, mingyu carries you in bridal style into the bathroom and helps you get into the bathtub and follows suit behind you and engulfs you in his warmth.

his biceps hugging you flush against his chest as you grab on his forearms biting at it softly and kissing it. you don't know if he''ll remain a stranger for the night or someone you'd be spending the rest of your life with but surely you hope it's the latter. he smirks at your antics and kisses your cheek, "happy 2nd anniversary, my love."

[goldfades]

oh, golden boy, you shined a light on our home; and at your best, you were magic, we were sold; so don't tell them what you told me; don't even tell them that you know me; i would rather burn forever, but you should know that i died slow, running through the halls of your haunted home; merry christmas, please don't call; merry christmas, i'm not yours at all ─── PAIGE BUECKERS

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.9k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you and paige had been the kind of love story everyone admired from afar: picture-perfect in the daylight, chaotic behind closed doors. it wasn't her fault, not entirely. paige had her own ghosts, shadows you couldn’t chase away. but this Christmas, as the snow falls in connecticut and the ache of her absence presses like a bruise against your ribs, you realize you can't keep bleeding for someone who won’t stop breaking.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SOULCRUSHING ANGST W/ NO HAPPY ENDING!! pazzi mention, paige being a PLAYER and descriptions of anger (directed at reader), manipulation (?), just overall angsty

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | i've been listening to merry christmas, please don't call so i just HAD to make an angsty paige fic, i hope yall enjoy! (im so sorry for this fic)

There’s something profoundly cruel about December. The way it wraps the world in glitter and glassy snow, fooling you into believing anything could be beautiful if you squint hard enough. The kind of month where people hold hands and drink too-sweet cocoa, and you’re left standing under a streetlamp that flickers like a pulse—waiting for a call you know better than to answer.

You tuck your hands into your coat, biting back the cold. Connecticut is quieter than you remember, or maybe it’s just your corner of the city. Paige isn’t here to fill the space with that too-bright laughter that used to feel like sunshine and now feels like static in your chest.

The coffee shop across the street is closing for the night. You watch the barista flip the sign, your reflection ghosted in the fogged window. It looks like someone else—someone better, someone softer, someone who could’ve saved her.

But you couldn’t save Paige. Not from herself. Not from the carousel of pressure and pain that spins faster than either of you can jump off.

The two of you had been magnetic once. You couldn’t say it was perfect—it never was—but there had been a time when Paige made the air around her shimmer like heat on asphalt. Everyone wanted to be near her, but you were the one she chose. At least, that’s how it felt in the beginning.

The story of you and Paige wasn’t simple. It couldn’t be, not with how bright her world burned, how impossible it was to separate the good from the bad, the joy from the heartbreak. It all started with her charm—effortless and magnetic, the kind that made you believe she could do anything.

You met during her sophomore year at UConn, the same year her name became synonymous with excellence. She’d smile at you during study sessions, her sneakers squeaking against the gym floor as she absentmindedly dribbled a basketball while you worked on assignments. Her laugh was a sound you could pick out of a crowd, bright and airy, like it didn’t belong in a world this heavy.

The early days were golden. Paige had this way of making you feel like the only person in the room, her attention sharp and unwavering. She'd surprise you with late-night drives to nowhere, the car filled with the smell of takeout and the sound of her carefully curated playlists. She'd drape her hoodie over your shoulders when the Connecticut winters bit too hard, her hands brushing yours in a way that sent sparks down your spine.

She wasn’t just a basketball prodigy to you; she was Paige, the girl who could quote Parks and Recreation word for word, who cried during Marley & Me, who kissed you for the first time under a canopy of stars in a parking lot after a particularly grueling practice.

You learned quickly that loving Paige meant loving her ambition, her relentless drive. But it also meant loving her through her shadows—the doubt that crept in after a bad game, the pressure that clung to her like a second skin. At first, you thought you could handle it. You thought your steady presence could be her anchor.

But Paige’s world was intense, overwhelming, and sometimes suffocating. There were moments when she’d retreat into herself, shutting you out completely. Nights when she’d sit in silence for hours, staring at the wall, her thoughts a storm she refused to share.

“I’m fine,” she’d say, her voice clipped, whenever you tried to reach her. “It’s just basketball. It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing, and you knew it. It was the weight of the world on her shoulders, the unspoken expectation to be perfect, to never falter. And sometimes, that weight turned her into someone you didn’t recognize—distant, sharp-edged, unreachable.

There were good days, though. The kind of days that made you believe you could weather anything together. The way she’d look at you like you hung the moon after a big win, her joy infectious and radiant. The soft kisses she’d press to your forehead when she thought you were asleep, the whispered promises that everything would be okay.

But the cracks in the foundation grew wider as time went on. Paige didn’t know how to lean on you—didn’t know how to share the parts of herself that weren’t shiny and triumphant. And you, in turn, didn’t know how to break through the walls she built so carefully around her heart.

The arguments started small: missed dates, unanswered texts, her constant insistence that she “needed space.” But they grew sharper, uglier, as the stress of her career bled into every corner of her life. You tried to be patient, to understand that her world was chaotic in ways yours wasn’t.

“I’m trying,” you told her one night, your voice breaking after yet another fight about her shutting you out. “But I can’t keep doing this if you won’t let me in.”

Her response was cold, distant: “Maybe I don’t need you to fix everything for me.”

It was the beginning of the end.

The good moments became fewer, swallowed whole by the tension that never seemed to fade. Paige became harder to reach, her laughter rarer, her smiles strained. She’d come home late, exhausted and short-tempered, and you’d sit across from her at the kitchen table, wondering when you stopped feeling like her partner and started feeling like a stranger.

And love, real love, isn’t just about the good moments.

The cracks began to show in small ways. The way she’d go silent when you asked how she was really feeling after a rough game. The forced smile she’d wear in public, only to collapse into your arms behind closed doors, her exhaustion radiating off her in waves. Paige didn’t talk about the pressure—not really. She’d shrug it off with a joke or brush it aside with a kiss, but you could feel it in the way she clenched her fists when she thought no one was looking.

And then there was the anger.

It didn’t show up at first, not in ways you could name. Paige was too composed, too practiced at keeping herself in check, her emotions folded neatly into the corners of her well-rehearsed smile. But over time, the cracks in her composure grew sharper, splintering into moments she couldn’t quite hide.

You remember the first time it caught you off guard. It was late November, and the two of you were walking back to her apartment after a grueling game. Paige had played well—at least, that’s what everyone kept telling her. She’d drained three-pointers with a precision that seemed almost effortless, threading passes that left defenders spinning. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough for Paige.

“I should’ve done more,” she muttered, her voice low but heavy with frustration. You glanced at her, confused.

“Paige, you scored 26 points,” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “I think that qualifies as doing more.”

She stopped walking, her breath fogging in the cold air. Her jaw clenched.

“You don’t get it,” she snapped, and the sharpness in her voice cut through you like a knife.

You blinked, taken aback. “Then help me get it,” you said carefully, stepping closer. But she only shook her head, her hands buried deep in her pockets.

“Forget it,” she muttered, and the conversation ended there.

But the tension lingered.

It wasn’t always so direct. Sometimes it was the way she’d sigh too loudly when you asked her a simple question, or the way she’d press her fingers to her temples when you suggested she take a break. Other times, it was silence—the kind that stretched too long and settled too heavy between you, a chasm you didn’t know how to cross.

And yet, there were still moments of sweetness. Paige was never just one thing. She’d show up at your door with takeout after you’d had a rough day, or pull you onto the couch, wrapping you in her arms as though she could shield you from everything. She’d kiss the top of your head and whisper things like, “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” and for a while, you believed her.

But the anger didn’t go away. It grew, festering in the quiet corners of your relationship until it felt like a third presence in the room. It wasn’t directed at you—not always—but it seeped into everything.

You’d watch her pace the living room after a game, her movements restless and sharp, her hands running through her hair. She’d mutter under her breath about missed shots, bad calls, and how the team deserved better. You tried to comfort her, to remind her that she was enough, but your words never seemed to stick.

“Stop,” she’d say, cutting you off mid-sentence. “You don’t have to fix this. Just… let me be.”

You told yourself it wasn’t personal. That she wasn’t mad at you, but at the weight she carried, the expectations that pressed down on her until she couldn’t breathe. And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were becoming collateral damage.

The fights started small—little disagreements over nothing. Where to eat, what movie to watch, whether she could manage to take one damn day off. But they escalated quickly, her voice rising in frustration, yours trying to keep up.

“I’m trying to help you,” you said one night, your voice cracking under the strain.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” she shot back, her eyes blazing. “You think you can just fix everything? Newsflash: you can’t.”

Her words hit you harder than they should have. Maybe because deep down, you’d started to believe she was right.

The nights after those fights were the hardest. You’d lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, the silence between you louder than any argument. Paige would sit on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands, the weight of her regret pressing her down. She never apologized—not with words, anyway. Her apologies came in the form of a soft kiss on your shoulder, a whispered “goodnight” that barely reached your ears.

But you started to wonder if love was supposed to feel this heavy.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love her. God, you loved her. Even when she was angry, even when she pushed you away, even when the weight of her world started to crush you, too. But love wasn’t enough to keep you from drowning.

The night it all came crashing down, the snowstorm outside was unforgiving, a whiteout swallowing the world whole. You stood in Paige’s apartment, the dim light of her living room casting long, jagged shadows across the walls. The heater rattled and hissed, struggling to keep the space warm, but it couldn’t touch the frost between you.

Paige sat on the edge of the couch, her elbows resting on her knees, her hands gripping her hair so tightly you thought she might pull it out. Her breathing was uneven, each inhale sharp and jagged like broken glass.

“I can’t keep doing this,” she said finally, her voice cracking on the last word.

You flinched at the sound, the weight of her statement hitting you square in the chest. It wasn’t the first time she’d said something like that, but tonight it felt different. Final.

“What does that mean?” you asked, your own voice trembling despite your best efforts to steady it.

She looked up at you then, her eyes red-rimmed and glassy, her face a mask of exhaustion. “It means I’m tired,” she said. “Of… of everything. Of trying to be everything for everyone and failing every single time.”

“Paige,” you began, stepping closer, but she held up a hand to stop you.

“Don’t,” she said sharply, and the venom in her voice made you stop in your tracks.

“I’m not one of them,” you said, your tone soft but firm. “I’m not asking you to be perfect, Paige. I’ve never asked that of you.”

She laughed bitterly, the sound so hollow it made your stomach churn. “But you expect me to be okay,” she said, her words like knives. “You expect me to keep it together, to let you in, to… to lean on you like that’s supposed to fix anything.”

“Is that such a terrible thing?” you shot back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “To want you to let me help? To not have to feel like I’m walking on eggshells every second I’m around you?”

Paige stood abruptly, her sudden movement startling you. “You don’t get it,” she said, her voice rising. “You’ll never get it. You don’t know what it’s like to have the whole damn world waiting for you to screw up. To know that no matter what you do, it’s never gonna be enough.”

Her words hung in the air like a challenge, daring you to respond.

“You’re right,” you said after a long pause, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t get it. I don’t know what it’s like to be you. But I do know what it’s like to love you, and to feel like I’m not enough for you.”

Paige’s breath hitched, and for a moment, she looked at you like she wanted to say something. But then her expression hardened, her walls slamming back into place.

“Maybe you’re not,” she said, the words so quiet they almost didn’t register. Almost.

You froze, your heart dropping into your stomach. “What?”

Her eyes were cold now, her shoulders tense. “Maybe you’re not enough,” she repeated, louder this time. “Because if you were, I wouldn’t feel like this all the time. I wouldn’t—” She stopped herself, shaking her head as if trying to clear it. “Forget it.”

“No,” you said, your voice shaking with a mix of anger and heartbreak. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to say something like that and then just walk away.”

Paige turned away from you, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t mean it,” she muttered, but the damage was already done.

“Yes, you did,” you said, and the finality in your tone made her turn back to face you. “You meant it, Paige. And maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m not enough for you. But I’ve been trying. I’ve been here, through everything, while you’ve been pushing me away and blaming me for things I can’t control.”

She didn’t respond, her jaw clenched so tightly you could see the tension in her neck.

“You want to be alone so badly?” you said, your voice breaking. “Fine. Be alone. I’m done trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Paige didn’t move, didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at you. And that silence said more than words ever could.

You grabbed your coat, your movements mechanical as you headed for the door. Your fingers fumbled with the handle, but before you stepped out into the freezing night, you turned back one last time.

“I loved you,” you said, your voice trembling. “I hope you know that.”

And then you left.

The cold hit you like a slap in the face, but it didn’t compare to the hollow ache in your chest. You walked away from her building, your breaths coming out in shaky puffs of air, your eyes stinging with unshed tears.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

But as you disappeared into the snowstorm, you couldn’t shake the image of Paige standing in that living room, alone with her anger and the ghosts she refused to let go of.

It was summer in Connecticut, the kind of evening where the world seemed to hold its breath, suspended in a twilight haze. The sky was streaked with pink and gold, casting a warm, nostalgic glow over the small lake where Paige had driven you after practice. She had her hand on the back of your neck, her thumb tracing lazy circles over your skin as you leaned against her car, watching the water ripple in the breeze.

“This is the spot,” she murmured, her voice low, almost reverent.

“The spot for what?” you asked, turning to face her.

“For when it gets too heavy.”

Paige rarely talked about the weight she carried—her expectations, her relentless drive to be more, to be better. But you could feel it in her sometimes, the way she’d go quiet after games or the way her smile would falter when she thought no one was looking.

You followed her gaze out over the lake. It was still, reflecting the sky like a mirror, and for a moment, the world felt smaller, safer. Paige tilted her head back against the car, her eyes closing as she took a deep breath.

“You ever feel like you’re just… spinning?” she asked softly.

“Like everything’s moving too fast, and you can’t get off?”

She opened one eye, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, like that.”

You laughed, the sound breaking through the stillness like the first notes of a song. “All the time.”

Paige turned to you then, really turned, her gaze heavy and intense in that way that always made your heart stutter. She reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Her hand lingered, her fingertips brushing against your cheek.

“You make it stop,” she said, so quietly you almost missed it.

“Make what stop?”

“This,” she gestured vaguely, her other hand cutting through the air like she was trying to grab hold of something intangible. “The spinning. The noise.”

Her eyes locked onto yours, and in that moment, you felt the full weight of her, the vulnerability she rarely let anyone see. Paige Bueckers—the golden girl, the superstar—looked at you like you were the only thing holding her together.

And maybe you were.

She leaned in, pressing her forehead to yours. “Sometimes I feel like I’m on this carousel, you know? Like I can’t get off, even when I want to. But when I’m with you…”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “When you’re with me, what?”

“I forget about it,” she said, her voice cracking just a little. “I forget about everything else.”

You stayed like that for what felt like forever, the two of you wrapped in a quiet moment that felt too fragile to last. Paige’s hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer until there was nothing between you but the soft rise and fall of your breaths.

“Promise me something,” she whispered, her lips brushing against your temple.

“Anything.”

“Don’t leave. No matter how bad it gets, don’t leave.”

You pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, your heart breaking at the vulnerability etched across her face. “I won’t,” you said, the words heavy with meaning.

Paige kissed you then, slow and deep, her hands framing your face like you were something sacred. And for a moment, the world did stop spinning.

Later, when the sun had dipped below the horizon and the stars began to flicker into view, you lay on the hood of her car, her arm wrapped tightly around you. She traced constellations in the sky with her finger, whispering their names like secrets only you were meant to hear.

It was moments like this that made leaving unthinkable. Paige could be selfish, distant, and infuriating, but she was also this—the girl who made you feel like the center of her universe, if only for a little while.

And that’s why, even now, with the carousel spinning faster than ever, you knew that if she called, you’d pick up. You’d step back into the whirlwind, the heavy gaze, the endless cycle.

Because Paige had a way of making you believe in the calm between storms, in the stillness of a summer night by a lake that felt like it belonged only to you.

Paige had this way about her—a pull that felt almost gravitational. It wasn’t just her talent, though that was undeniable. It wasn’t even her looks, though you’d be lying if you said her golden hair and sharp blue eyes didn’t make your stomach flip every time she turned that full-force charm your way. It was something deeper, something intangible. Paige made you feel seen, even when you didn’t want to be. Especially when you didn’t want to be.

She’d waltz into a room like she owned it, every movement effortless, every smile calculated but somehow still genuine. Paige Bueckers had the kind of confidence that bordered on arrogance, but with you, it softened. She let you see behind the curtain—the cracks in her armor, the moments when the golden girl wasn’t so golden.

And God, those moments were everything.

You remember one night in particular, when the weight of everything had been too much for her. The team had just lost a game they were expected to win, and Paige had been uncharacteristically quiet the entire bus ride back. You’d waited until everyone else had cleared out of the locker room before approaching her, unsure if she even wanted you there.

But the second she saw you, something in her crumbled.

“I can’t,” she’d whispered, her voice shaking as she sank onto the bench. “I can’t keep doing this.”

You didn’t say anything, just sat down beside her and pulled her into your arms. She clung to you like a lifeline, her tears soaking into your shirt as you ran your fingers through her hair, whispering soft reassurances.

It was moments like that when you realized just how deeply Paige had wormed her way into your heart. She wasn’t just the superstar everyone else saw; she was vulnerable, complicated, and so achingly human. And she trusted you with that side of her—a side no one else got to see.

But it wasn’t just the heavy moments that kept you tied to her. It was the good ones, too—the nights she’d show up at your door unannounced with takeout and a goofy grin, insisting that you needed a break from studying. The way she’d drag you to the park at midnight just to lay on the grass and stargaze, her hand intertwined with yours as she pointed out constellations you’d never heard of.

It was the way she looked at you, like you were the only thing in the world that made sense.

Paige had a way of making every moment feel electric. When she kissed you, it wasn’t just a kiss—it was an event. Her hands would cradle your face like you were made of glass, her lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your knees weak. And when she smiled at you afterward, that lazy, lopsided grin that was so uniquely hers, it felt like the world had been set right again.

You knew it wasn’t healthy. Paige could be selfish, possessive even. She wanted you on her terms, when it was convenient for her, when she needed someone to hold her up. And you let her, because when Paige loved you—even if it was only halfway—it felt like the sun had risen just for you.

You told yourself that you were the one who truly knew her, the one who saw the real Paige beneath the accolades and the golden glow. And maybe that was true. But knowing her didn’t make it hurt any less when she started to pull away.

Because Paige Bueckers had a chokehold on you, and no matter how much you wanted to let go, you knew you never really could. Even now, with everything that had happened, all it would take was one call, one look, and you’d be hers again, no questions asked.

That was the thing about Paige—she was a storm, unpredictable and destructive, but you couldn’t help but stand in the rain, hoping for just a little more sunlight.

The air was thick with warmth and laughter, the kind of joy that buzzed around a room full of people who felt like family. Paige had insisted you come to the team hangout, her eyes softening in that way that always made it impossible to say no.

"It'll be fun," she had promised, lacing her fingers through yours. "And Azzi will be there, so you won't feel out of place."

You swallowed back the irony now, standing on the fringes of the crowded living room as Paige and Azzi shared a quiet laugh across the room. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen them together, their bond growing closer in ways that should’ve been comforting. It should have made you feel secure—Paige having someone who understood her world, who could shoulder the weight of the same pressures.

But it didn’t.

It hurt.

Azzi’s laugh was the same pitch as Paige’s, soft and genuine. The way Paige leaned in when she spoke, her eyes crinkling at the corners, was painfully familiar. You’d seen that look a thousand times before—directed at you. Once.

You stayed pressed against the wall, your drink warming in your hand as you watched them. It wasn’t just the way they talked, like no one else was in the room, or the casual touch of Paige’s hand against Azzi’s arm. It was the comfort, the ease. The way Paige smiled at her, unguarded and free.

You’d been here before. In the passenger seat of her car during late-night drives. On her couch, curled up with her hoodie draped around your shoulders. Sharing secrets that felt too heavy to speak aloud. It was supposed to be your safe space—yours and Paige’s.

Now, watching her light up for someone else, you couldn’t help but feel like a ghost. A witness to something that wasn’t meant for you anymore.

Azzi said something that made Paige throw her head back in laughter, her hand brushing Azzi’s knee as she doubled over. The sound echoed in your chest like a bullet ricocheting off hollow walls.

And you died slow.

The walls of this house weren’t hers, but they may as well have been. Paige had a way of haunting every space she occupied, leaving pieces of herself in every laugh, every look, every touch. But tonight, it felt like you weren’t welcome in the hallways of her haunted home. You were an intruder in a space you used to know intimately.

The toughest part wasn’t the way she drifted to Azzi like a planet pulled into a stronger orbit. It was the fact that you both knew exactly why it was happening. Paige wasn’t trying to hurt you, not intentionally. She was finding something she needed—something you couldn’t give her anymore.

And it crushed you, knowing she wasn’t the person everyone else thought she was. She wasn’t just the golden girl with the easy smile and the killer jump shot. You knew the sharp edges, the flaws she tried to bury under layers of charm. The way she’d lash out when she was scared, the selfishness that reared its head when she felt cornered.

You knew her. Really knew her. And you still stayed.

Stayed when she’d shut you out after a bad game, refusing to talk for days. Stayed when her ambition left no room for you, when she forgot birthdays and date nights and promises. Stayed because Paige wasn’t just the bad parts.

She was also the Paige who kissed your knuckles when you cried, who brought you flowers "just because." The Paige who whispered “I love you” like it was a secret meant only for you.

But now, watching her laugh with Azzi, you wondered if you’d stayed too long. If you’d held onto someone who wasn’t yours anymore.

Paige glanced over, catching your eye for a brief moment. She smiled—polite, distant. And then she turned back to Azzi, her attention snapping back like a rubber band.

It hit you then, the final blow.

Paige’s world had shifted, and you weren’t the center of it anymore. You were the afterthought. A memory of a time when she was still figuring out how to carry the weight of her life.

And for the first time, you let yourself wonder if maybe Paige wasn’t yours at all. Maybe she never really had been.

There’s a cruel intimacy to grief. The way it finds you in the smallest moments, in the cracks of your routine, in the way the wind moves through the trees or how a song starts playing in a grocery store. Paige is everywhere in Connecticut. Or maybe she’s everywhere in you.

You tried to move on. God, you really did.

At first, it was sheer force of will. You buried yourself in work, in plans with friends who didn’t know Paige beyond the headlines. You deleted her photos off your phone, shoved her sweatshirt to the back of your closet where the scent of her—a mix of fresh linen and something indefinable—couldn’t haunt you.

But grief has a way of sneaking back in. It wasn’t the big things that unraveled you; it was the little ones. The way every basketball game you flipped past felt like her shadow. The sound of laughter at a bar that hit the same pitch as hers, making your chest tighten with phantom warmth.

And God help you, it was the moments when you wanted to hate her but couldn’t. Not when you’d catch yourself remembering how she used to light up at the simplest things—pancakes on a lazy morning, a dumb joke that wasn’t funny but made her laugh so hard she’d double over.

Then there were the rumors. Whispers and Instagram stories. Paige and Azzi—courtside banter turned into something more. The first time you saw it, you scoffed, dismissing it as gossip. Paige always had a way of pulling people into her orbit, Azzi included.

But then came the photos. Nothing overt, nothing scandalous. Just Paige leaning too close during post-game interviews. Azzi’s hand on her shoulder, casual but deliberate. They weren’t trying to hide it, but they weren’t broadcasting it either.

The night you saw it, you stared at your phone for too long, trying to decipher the ache in your chest. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. You hadn’t expected Paige to wait for you, not when she had the kind of life that moved at the speed of light. But it was the simplicity of it that hurt the most. The way Paige could give Azzi the pieces of herself you’d fought so hard to hold onto.

You spent the rest of that night curled up on your bed, scrolling through her photos until the light from your phone burned your eyes. By the time you fell asleep, the only thing you felt was exhaustion—the kind that settled in your bones and didn’t leave.

And now, it’s Christmas Eve.

You’re back in Connecticut, surrounded by family and the kind of warmth that’s supposed to feel comforting. But it doesn’t. Not entirely. The house is decked out in garlands and twinkling lights, your mom’s favorite holiday playlist drifting faintly from the kitchen. Your siblings are laughing over some board game you’ve never liked, and you’re standing by the window, watching the snow fall.

It’s quiet in your corner of the house. Too quiet.

The phone in your pocket buzzes. Once. Then again.

You don’t have to look to know who it is.

Paige’s number is burned into your memory, as familiar as your own name. Your chest tightens as you pull the phone out, the screen glowing with her name. It’s been a year since you last spoke. A year of awkward smiles at mutual friends’ events and polite nods when your paths crossed. A year of trying to forget the sound of her voice, the way she’d say your name like it was something precious.

You should answer. Or maybe you shouldn’t.

The buzzing stops, and you think it’s over. But then it starts again, more insistent this time. She doesn’t leave voicemails anymore. Just lets the silence hang in the air between calls.

Your hand hovers over the screen, your breath hitching as the familiar ache rises in your chest. You close your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the cold seeping through the windowpane, on the distant sound of your family laughing.

When the buzzing stops again, you shove the phone back into your pocket.

Merry Christmas, Paige. But I can’t do this. Not tonight.

You turn away from the window, your heart heavy with the weight of all the things you’ll never say. The snow keeps falling, covering the world in glitter and glassy silence. Paige is still everywhere, even when she isn’t. And you?

You’re still trying to move on. Still waiting for the day when the sound of her name doesn’t feel like a knife twisting in your chest.

The night stretches on, slow and agonizing, the kind of quiet that sinks into your skin and keeps you awake for all the wrong reasons. You sit by the fireplace long after your family has gone to bed, the flames casting dancing shadows on the walls. Your phone sits heavy on the armrest, as if its weight could pull you under.

You wonder what she wanted to say.

Paige wasn’t one for grand gestures, not outside the court. She wasn’t the type to pour her heart out over the phone, but you knew her well enough to read between the lines, to decipher the emotions she couldn’t put into words. And that was the worst part—knowing that whatever it was she wanted to say, it would hurt.

She’d moved on. You were sure of it. Azzi filled the space you used to occupy, and that should’ve been enough to keep Paige away. But here she was, her name lighting up your phone like some ghost that refused to rest.

You couldn’t stop yourself from picturing her—where she was, what she looked like tonight. Was she staring out her own window, watching the snow fall, her lips pressed into that familiar line of determination? Or was she somewhere loud and bright, surrounded by the buzz of life, calling you from the edges of a party she didn’t really want to be at?

The questions gnawed at you, each one another layer of hurt you couldn’t shake.

You thought about the last Christmas you’d spent together, curled up on the couch in her apartment, the world outside forgotten for a few stolen hours. Paige had draped an arm over your shoulders, her face buried in your neck as she mumbled something about how she wished every day could feel like that—quiet, safe, yours.

But nothing stayed quiet with Paige. She lived in a whirlwind, and you’d gotten caught in the eye of the storm. You let her pull you under because you thought, for a moment, that you could save her.

Instead, she left you drowning.

The fire crackles, breaking the silence, and you blink back the tears threatening to spill.

You reach for your phone, your thumb hovering over her name. It would be so easy to call her back, to let her voice fill the space between you. She’d say something half-apologetic, half-charming, and you’d forgive her like you always did, because how could you not?

But you don’t.

Instead, you turn the phone off and set it face-down on the table. The room feels emptier without its glow, but you welcome the darkness.

There’s something profoundly cruel about December. The way it promises joy wrapped in ribbons and snowflakes but leaves you colder than before. It’s a month of ghosts, of memories that slip through your fingers like frost.

And Paige? She’s the cruellest ghost of all.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[firelightfics]

Work your magic.

Scar x Mage! Healer! Gn! Reader

From this message (CAUSE I FORGOT TO TURN THE ASKS THING ON BEFORE AND REALISED SO LATE 😭)

Warnings: mentions of illness, violence and drug use [not Reader], should be mostly fluff though, banished mage reader, okay.. I kinda gave Reader an adoptive daughter I can't help it I'm sorry.

Extra: The person requested for the reader to be strong, so I went with the route of them being able to create and manipulate detailed and realistic illusions, and their strength is in that sort of field rather than battle strength. So they have a more mental strength and can manipulate dreams although its not really a main point.

DID I NAME SCARS BABY? YES. I NAMED HER RIRI OKAY? ITS CUTE. SHE'S CUTE.

Summary: Y/n, a mage, who has wandered too far from home finds themself under the care of the firelights. Or perhaps the firelights have found themselves in their care. A particular chirean takes interest in their less than typical methods of calming people.

Masterlist.

Ko-fi

---

Its been too long since I have seen my family. I come from a place far from here, so far I'm not even sure it is of the same plane of existence. My home feels foreign to me now. Years have passed since I was there. Banishment does tend to keep a person away I suppose.

Since I have wandered to a new home, a place I stumbled upon by chance. No, even that isn't right. I stumbled upon the person running this place is more accurate, he was shielding a small injured girl from harsh weather and clearly manic due to the fear of losing the child in the even harsher city of Zaun. I offered them help as I was nearby enough with a place to stay. I couldn't be more glad that Ekko accepted my help that day, as stubborn as he can be.

Its only been a couple of weeks since such an event, but Flora has healed quickly with my help and has been helping introduce me to the Firelights. She's a sweet girl who now seems rather attatched to me and tends to stick around the medical area that I have taken residence in. Ekko, the leader, has helped me get more comfortable here and I couldn't be happier. Or maybe, I could be happier. I've never tried to be more than just content, its all my family allowed until I tried something new and got myself banished.

In the past few weeks, many people have come to me for assistance. Plenty injured from time out on the streets, a few scraped and scratched children and returning firelights after their dangerous missions. It worries me how many shimmer affected patients I've recieved, this drug is a foreign concept to me still but calming those affected with illusions of things they enjoy seems to solve their aggression for a time until the drug wears out. Healing can only help so much when the wounds are not visible. I find much more difficultly with these patients, but if I weren't up to the challenge I would have left.

-

Flora had just settled in for the night, a small loft area for her to use as she pleases. Although she doesn't have a proper room, I plan to change one of the unused rooms into a proper space for her if she wishes. For particularly gruesome patients, I always ask her to return to her normal room and she does. What a sweetheart. I hum a tune as I pack away balms and bandages to use another day. The quiet is nice with the shadowy atmosphere, few things would dare disturb such a calm. Few, but never zero.

The door is quickly flung on its hinges as Scar, Ekko's seemingly stern right-hand man, bursts into the room, startling me and Flora, who was very nearly drifting off. His eyes are wide with a certain kind of distress only a worried father can display. In his arms is his screaming baby girl, the poor dear clearly unwell. Not a word is said as I take her from his arms and usher her to the nearest and softest place to lay her. Scar seems to shake with terror. He must be almost as frightened as her.

I gently feel her forehead to vaguely check my suspicions of a fever and am pleased to have guessed correctly. I swirl my hands with a dark blue starry mist forming into shapes and animals, floating and playing with one another as a distraction for the poor baby. Her cries seem to dull, if only for a moment. Her concentration taken from what I could only assume to be a headache and placed on a starry fox prancing amongst a now fully formed forest scene. With the distraction working, I quickly gather a child friendly medication for her. Its a sweeter flavour than most but she surely won't mind or care as she is too enraptured by the friendly forest creatures of my hometown.

She doesn't fight or fuss over the medication, simply grumblles a little, and turns back to her little show. However, I'm reminded of another presence when the silence is broken by his ragged breathing. I assume Flora is asleep after the littlest was calmed. I pick her up and move towards where Scar is sat. The larger man looks utterly horrified, his normally steady stance shattered at the thought of his daughter being deathly ill. Luckily, it seems to be not much more than a fever and headache.

"Rough day?" I ask simply as I bounce her lightly in my arms before handing her back to Scar. He sighs as he carefully grips her small form, his lip twitches up in a quick huff of air and smirk paired as one.

"Something like that. Is she going to be okay?" He quickly switches topics to avoid the obvious worry I have forming for him.

"Of course, it doesn't seem like anything serious. No real magic had to be used aside from my little 'puppet show' for her." I gently tickle under her chin, causing her to giggle at the attention. Scar's eyes bounce up to meet mine, and he smiles. Staring into his eyes, I see the clear tiredness of a struggling parent.

"We shou-"

"You should stay." I catch him before he tries to flee. Why is he so against taking a break? If not for his own sake, why not her sake? "I have a cot she can use, and we have spare room for you both it really wouldn't trouble us. To be able to look after her, you need to be able to look after yourself."

He looks down and grimaces but nods and follows while I guide him to one of the spare rooms that are likely to keep longer-term patients, but I've never had that, so they're empty. I bring him to a room with items for caring for babies and a bed big enough for him to sleep nearby. He lays her down so gently that it makes me honestly question what I even know about the man.

"Thank you." Is the last thing spoken between us as I leave for the night.

-

This is the first of a few of our encounters, seemingly becoming more frequent. His eyes always a sharp contrast to their normal rough shape and instead becoming soft around me and little Riri. Maybe a small bit of progress, but it is progress nonetheless.

She quickly recovered and yet Scar was adamant on staying and asking me to care for her when I could, which was admittedly most of the time since the only patient I seem to ever recieve is the vastayan himself. As though he was allowing only himself to take the rougher hits to get treated by me.

The door to the clinic gently clicks open and Scar appears in the room, Flora and Riri are playing in the far corner and I'm reading a worn down book on the counter.

"Pick up time already? My, how the time flies. I-"

"Actually I'd like to stay tonight, if thats okay?"

My face contorts to one of confusion, but I won't lie and say it isn't a pleasant surprise. I simply nod, thinking he'd leave to the room he's basically claimed as his and Riri's. However as he stops he nods me over.

Curious, I follow without any debate. Flora will look out for Riri and knows what she's doing by now. He sighs as he drops to sit on the bed and pats a spot next to him.

"I, I have had trouble sleeping." He grimaces and puts his back against the wall. "I was wondering if you could use those illusions of yours to help me?"

My eyebrows raise, and my mouth falls open slightly. He's asking me to use my magic on him? I was convinced he hated it as he only ever cautiously stared when I'd used it. I thought he was afraid. His brows are pulled together, and he can't meet my eyes, hands placed on his lap in front of him.

"Why would I ever turn down my second best patient?" I grin at him and he looks up confused.

"How am I second?" Almost offended, a fake snarl on his lips but a slight upturn that is barely hiding a smirk.

"Oh poor dear," my hand gingerly raises to meet his cheek, "are you jealous?"

He quickly breaks and chuckles, fake snarl failing completely, instead changing to a weak smile. Oh, so we are like that, I suppose. The grin on my face turns to a full smile that I hope properly conveys the joy that comes with the accidental confession of sorts.

"How could you possibly be jealous of your own daughter? The little thing has been such an angel, why wouldn't she be my number one." I tease knowing it will irk him slightly.

Before I can revel in my slight victory, he gets in close and grabs a hold of my jaw. Eyes meeting mine in an intense stare before quickly pressing his lips to mine. Simple. Yet so impactful. He pulls back and his eyes droop, the tiredness still there yet he seems far more awake somehow.

"Shut up and work your magic, mage. The quicker your done, the quicker we can sleep."

"We? Whoever said I was going to sleep too?"

"Me."

---

OKAY I THINK I LOST THE PLOT OF WHAT I ORIGINALLY WANTED TO DO WITH THIS PROMPT BUT I can't lie, they're cuties still 🤭

I'll be getting through each request one at a time and will post when I open them up again, sorry this took so long (im still reeling from Act 3 ngl but also life is catching up to me so it might be a sec)

[lucysarah-c]

Mounting Spring Ch.7

Summary: Paradis has opened its doors to the world, and the Rumbling has not yet occurred. The military board insists, "We need more Ackermans!" to avoid ruining Mikasa's life. Levi agrees. Arranged marriage, explicit consent, Omegaverse. Alpha! Levi x Omega! Y/N. Mentions of underage marriage but it doesn't happen, the reader is over 21. Age gap but they are both adults. (I would say enemys to lover but they don't even know eachother to be enemys lol.)

Author note: I've had this idea for so long… Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure, and I decided to treat myself with it.

From the creator of "Not in season?" I bring to you "Mounting Spring" lmao haha sorry it's just that my first omegaverse was rather a success… so I decided to do another.

Masterlist to the previous parts!

Ao3 link in case you prefer to read there!

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Levi whispered, though his lips were already on her neck, sucking softly. He inhaled deeply, pinning her against the wall. “You smell too good.” 

The girl chuckled, unfazed. “It’s not me. It’s my roommate. She's the one in heat—her stink stuck to me." 

It was intoxicating, mind-blowing. Levi felt like he was losing himself. Her hand brushed his face, soft as velvet, and for a moment, it seemed too perfect. His brain spun, a haze of imagined pheromones clouding his senses. The omega in his arms had to be the one in heat, right? It all felt too real. 

What...?  

When he raised his head, shaking off the fog, he realized the warmth he’d buried his face into wasn’t her neck—it was his own folded arms on his desk. He squinted against the blur of exhaustion. 

“Meow.”  

His foggy gaze landed on a cold, unceremonious wet nose poking his face. 

Levi groaned, turning his head away. "Not now," he muttered, half-heartedly swiping at the persistent feline. But the cat wasn’t one to take a hint. It resumed its soft, clawless pats against his cheek. 

"Go away," Levi grumbled, already knowing resistance was futile. Burying his face deeper into his arms, determined to stay asleep, though he knew it was pointless. Levi groaned, swatting at the feline. The animal, unbothered, hopped down from the desk, only to start scratching at the window with maddening insistence. 

The sharp sound made Levi sit up instantly. “What?” he hissed, trying to keep his voice low so as not to wake the other person sleeping nearby.  

He glared at the white cat, which now wound itself around his legs, purring and drawing lazy figure-eights. 

Levi stared at the animal like it had personally offended him. "What do you want?" He sighed, scratching his undercut, his hair a mess from sleeping at the desk. "Go back to sleep with your owner." If the damn thing responded with words, he swore he’d lose his mind.  

Eventually, he stood, running a hand through his messy undercut. The cat seemed pleased, trotting around the room and glancing back to ensure it was being followed.  

“Your food bowl?” Levi guessed, following reluctantly. “I filled it last night.”  

“Meow!”  

“It has food!” Levi snapped, shaking the bowl to demonstrate. The kibble rattled against the bottom, spreading out enough to cover the previous patch of emptiness in the centre. The cat dove in as if the food had magically appeared. Levi blinked. "...You’re actually dumb." 

Hands on his hips, he watched the cat eat for a moment, his tired gaze drifting toward its fluffy, oversized frame. “You know,” he muttered, “when she said she 'kitty,' I wasn’t expecting a fat lump like you.” 

The cat ignored the insult, contentedly crunching away.  

Levi, on the other hand, felt personally attacked. His good dream was ruined, and exhaustion weighed heavily on him. Taking a few quiet steps to the bedroom door, he peeked in on Y/N. She was dead asleep—mouth open, arms sprawled out, chest rising and falling slowly. 

“Tch.” Levi scowled. “You’re the one who’s supposed to be waking up, not me.” 

Defeated, he turned toward the bathroom, muttering under his breath. As he pushed the door shut behind him, a loud, offended yowl made him freeze.  

“Shit,” Levi muttered, reopening the door to find the cat squeezing through the gap. 

“No. Out,” he ordered, pointing toward the door like the cat was a misbehaving soldier. The animal, tail held high and proud, sauntered inside as if it owned the place.  

"Listen," Levi pinched the bridge of his nose. "I’m going to take a shit, and you’re not invited."  

The cat stared at him, unmoved. “Great. You’re as stubborn as your owner.” 

Scooping up the cat, he carried it out of the bathroom and shut the door firmly behind him. 

But peace was short-lived. 

Scratch, scratch, scratch. 

"For fuck’s sake," Levi growled through clenched teeth, yanking the door open again. The cat waltzed back in triumphantly, jumping onto the sink and leaving tiny paw prints across the surface. 

Minutes later, Levi sat on the toilet, glaring at the smug furball perched nearby. "You’re going to ruin my doors," he whispered. The cat tilted its head, feigning innocence. "I’m warning you, little shit. I brought you here. I can take you back." 

— 

“Levi, they’re about—”  

Hange stopped mid-sentence, staring at the door in shock as Levi opened it. He stood there, not fully dressed, with a white cat perched on his shoulder like some smug, oversized parrot. "What do you want?"  

Hange grinned, trying not to laugh. "If someone told me a month ago I’d see you married and... rocking a cat, I’d have said they were crazy." 

Levi grunted. “He demands to be picked up.”  

Hange raised an eyebrow. “Demands?”  

“It’s shocking how persistent this little shit is,” Levi’s expression was deadpan as the cat headbutted him affectionately, purring and kneading at his shoulder. “I’ve seen Titans less annoying.” 

Hange chuckled, reaching out to pet the fluffy troublemaker. “Aw, he likes you.”  

“Yeah, well, I don’t like him.”  

“Sure you don’t.” 

Hange’s grin widened. “Anyway, what’s taking so long? We should get going.”  

"I need to talk to Y/N before we head out. Don’t wait for me—I’ll catch up." 

Hange’s expression turned sympathetic, though they hid it behind a crooked smile. “She didn’t wake up?”  

"Heavy sleeper," Levi muttered, glancing toward the bedroom. "Apparently." 

Levi sighed, sinking into his chair as the cat curled up on the seat beside him, stretching luxuriously like it owned the place. He rested his elbow on the table, drumming his fingers against the surface. His sharp eyes flicked to the bedroom door, where a narrow crack revealed her silhouette shifting slightly in sleep. 

The quiet was suffocating. The ticking clock seemed louder with every second, a steady reminder of the time slipping away. He’d hoped she’d wake on her own, but clearly, that wasn’t going to happen. 

Pushing himself up, Levi padded silently back into the bedroom. He leaned over her sleeping form, nudging her shoulder gently. "Y/N, wake up." 

She groaned in response, pulling the blanket over her head like a shield against his persistence. 

"Come on," Levi tried again, his voice soft but insistent. "Wake up. Have breakfast with me." 

She mumbled something incoherent, her words muffled by the blanket. 

"Don’t make me drag you out of bed," Levi warned, his patience thinning. 

Finally, she grunted, peeking one bleary eye out from under the covers. "What’s with you tonight?" she muttered, her voice hoarse from sleep. "What time is it?" 

"6:02," Levi replied flatly. 

At that, Y/N turned to glare over her shoulder, her expression dripping with disdain. "Let me sleep," she hissed before burying herself back under the blanket. 

Levi stood there for a moment, debating whether to let her win this round. But no—he wasn’t leaving without talking to her. He nudged her shoulder again, and after several more minutes of coaxing (and a few muttered curses from her), she finally shuffled into his office. 

Now she sat at the table, a steaming cup of tea before her and a plate of white milk bread that looked barely touched. She slumped forward, her chin nearly resting on the table, her eyes half-lidded and unfocused. 

Levi sipped his own tea, watching her with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "You went to bed late last night?" he asked, genuinely surprised at her zombie-like state. 

"No," she mumbled, blinking slowly as if even that required too much effort. 

"You sleep a lot," Levi commented, his tone blunt. 

Her head lifted just enough for her to shoot him a withering side-eye. "Not my fault you can’t," she retorted, her voice edged with grogginess. "And it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do, locked up in here." 

Levi raised an eyebrow at her tone, but he didn’t immediately snap back. He understood the frustration simmering beneath her words, though he wasn’t the type to coddle. ‘Deep breath,’ he reminded himself. Gently, he pushed her milk tea closer to her. “Drink this. Wake up a little so we can talk.” 

Y/N didn’t respond, her head dipping as if she were about to fall asleep right there at the table. She reached for her tea, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated. "Can’t we, like, talk at three in the afternoon?" she muttered, shooting him a bleary side-eye before taking a small sip. 

The silence that followed was broken only by the soft purring of the cat, which had moved to sprawl across her lap, its paws lazily kneading the fabric of her dress. 

“You’ll have plenty of time to sleep when I’m gone,” Levi finally said, breaking the quiet. His tone was even, though careful, like he was trying to tread lightly. “I’m leaving for the day. Maybe I won’t be back until tomorrow morning. There are important meetings here—military board and investors.” 

“Alright, have a nice day,” she replied flatly, almost like a broken record. She paused, then added, “What are the meetings about?” 

"Work stuff," Levi replied curtly. "Nothing that concerns you." 

Y/N glanced at him but didn’t press further, though her silence spoke volumes. Her gaze lingered, her thoughts unspoken but clear enough: ‘So, you’re one of those husbands.’ 

Levi, meanwhile, leaned back in his chair, one arm resting on its back, his legs crossed. His free hand tapped against his teacup, the steady rhythm betraying his rare anxiety. His jaw tightened as he hesitated. He wasn’t good at this. —conversations meant to bridge gaps or soften rough edges. ‘Let’s just... be honest and work from there,’ he told himself. 

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you since last time,” he began, his voice firm but steady. “You shut yourself in your room after that, and then I had to leave for the Capital. I don’t want to keep dragging this out.” He paused, setting the stage for what he knew would be a difficult conversation. 

"I’m—" she started, but Levi cut her off with a sharp, commanding tone. "No. I’m speaking." 

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her annoyance evident, but she let him continue. 

“I didn’t know about the engagement,” Levi continued, his tone unwavering. “I had no intention of calling it off once I found out, but I was dragged into this just as much as you were. This wasn’t my choice either.” 

"It’s hard to explain, and honestly, I don’t completely understand it myself," he admitted. "But there’s another girl—someone from the same family line as me. Our families are considered... special. Stronger than most. That’s what the government cares about. And they want more of us. You know what I mean." 

Y/N’s cheeks flushed faintly as she pieced together the implications. 

“It was either her or me,” he explained. “She’s too young. And, honestly… I’ve lived long enough. So, I accepted.” 

An awkward silence filled the room. Levi searched for the right words to conclude, while Y/N seemed lost in her own thoughts. Her earlier grogginess had faded entirely, replaced by a sharp awareness that made the moment feel heavier. 

“What I’m trying to say,” Levi added, his tone quieter now, “is that I never intended to get married. It wasn’t in my plans. You didn’t want this either. But we’re stuck together, so we might as well try to make it work. Alright?” 

Her gaze lifted to meet his, her eyes no longer bleary with sleep but sharp and reflective. Levi held his breath, waiting for her response. He half-expected her to come back with some snarky comment or maybe even a spark of optimism. 

Instead, she asked, “Why did you choose me?” 

Levi exhaled, his honesty both a curse and a blessing. “You were the oldest,” he said simply, his words stripped of any pretense. 

— 

‘What the fuck did I say now?’ Levi wondered, his irritation mixing with guilt. ‘I was honest so we could work from scratch, at least have a solid base if we end up with a couple of brats in the near future.’ But his words had clearly landed harder than he intended. Her hopeless expression stuck with him. ‘I’ve seen cadets about to die on Wall Maria with more hope in their eyes than she had just now.’ 

“Oi, earth to Levi,” Hange waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him back to the present. “Hey, shorty, I need you here.”  

Levi blinked and refocused, realizing he had zoned out during the endless meeting. The large wooden table in front of him was covered with maps of the island, lines marking train systems, new coastal formations, and areas for expansion. Blueprints, photographs, and important dates were scattered among stacks of documents. 

"I’m just tired," Levi lied, his voice clipped. 

Hange didn’t buy it for a second. "If you’re worried about your wife, don’t. You locked that door." 

“I’m letting her go out tomorrow if she wants,” Levi said offhandedly. “Her post-heat is over, and it’s been nearly three weeks. Summer’s around the corner, and this office is starting to feel like a goddamn oven. I can’t keep the windows shut forever. Almost all the alphas have already gone through their ruts.”  

Hange gave him a quizzical look. “You sure?”  

Levi shrugged, his indifference hiding his uncertainty. “I’m not sure about anything anymore.”  

But the weight of those words wasn’t about his sudden marital status. His eyes wandered to Zeke’s letters, filled with orders. Across the table were Kiyomi’s detailed instructions, blueprints for expansion, photos of progress, and debates among the military board about whether Historia should have a child. Levi’s jaw tightened. He pushed his chair back, rising with deliberate movements.  

He approached his squad, who were enjoying their meal break at a smaller table nearby.  

“Oi, listen up, brats,” Levi called out, his tone sharp enough to cut through the chatter. But as he looked at them, his brow furrowed. ‘Each day I’ve gotta look up more. For fuck’s sake, how much taller are these kids gonna get?’ 

Sasha beamed, food halfway to her mouth. “Did you have dinner, Captain? This is amazing!” 

Levi allowed the smallest of smirks to slip through.  

“What is it, sir?” Mikasa asked, her quiet voice drawing the group’s attention back to him.  

Levi inhaled deeply, bracing himself. “I got married.”  

The reactions were instant and varied. Jean made a face that was equal parts disbelief and disgust, like the concept itself offended him. Sasha froze, a piece of food dropping from her mouth. Armin raised his eyebrows, lips pressed tightly together, while Connie’s jaw went slack. Only Eren, lost in his own world lately, seemed unaffected, while Mikasa’s expression shifted quickly from surprise to understanding. 

“So… she might be joining us for meals or something,” Levi concluded with a tired sigh, clearly done with the announcement already.  

“Congratulations,” Armin said, snapping himself and the others out of their collective shock.  

“Yeah, well,” Levi muttered, dismissing the sentiment. “Try to be on your best behaviour.” He fixed a pointed glare at Eren, his tone sharpening. “And take a damn shower, for once.” He felt like a tired mother scolding a rebellious teenager who’d just shouted, “It’s not a phase!” while looking like they hadn’t seen a bar of soap in weeks. 

“Of course!” Sasha chirped enthusiastically, breaking the awkward tension.  

But the air shifted as Mikasa interrupted, her voice calm but firm. “Floch was the one who tried to break into the room.”  

Levi’s gaze flicked to her, his surprise momentary but genuine. Her new sense of loyalty didn’t go unnoticed. “Doesn’t surprise me,” he admitted, clicking his tongue in annoyance. ‘Just confirms my judgment.’  

Before he could say more, Mikasa continued. “I’ll keep him in line.”  

Their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between the two Ackermans. It wasn’t just about loyalty; it was about the unspoken weight of their shared circumstances, their duty.  

“I’m counting on it,” Levi said, his tone gruff but laced with trust.  

— 

“I’m counting on you,” Hange murmured. 

The meeting dragged on until the final toast. Glasses were poured, and voices echoed in celebration.   

“You know I fucking hate social events,” Levi muttered back, his voice low and biting. “The last thing I want to do is stay here and get shitfaced with a bunch of old bastards talking about which cadets half their age they’re fucking or how grumpy their wives are.”  

“I know, I know,” Hange replied, whispering urgently. “But I feel so out of place here. Come on, Lev… just go along with me.”  

Their eyes met—not as commander and captain, but as friends. Both of them were thinking about the same person, the same absence that hung heavy over moments like this. The one who would’ve handled this situation with grace, who thrived in these spaces.  

Erwin.  

Reluctantly, Levi picked up his glass and raised it in the air, muttering as he joined the others, "For the coast expansion." 

He drained the drink quickly, then reached for a cigarette, lighting it with practiced ease.  

It’s going to be a long, shitty night.  

— 

“I’m back,” He swag the door open and announced perhaps a bit too loud for the time that it was. The saliva in his mouth was thick and stuck to his tongue in an unceremounious way. ‘I’m getting old,’ 

“Oi, Y/N,” he called out, his voice low but hoarse. He cleared his throat, trying again. “You awake?” 

Silence. 

Levi lingered there for a moment, one hand braced against the frame. He scanned the darkened room, illuminated only by the soft glow of moonlight spilling through a crack in the curtains. It was quiet—too quiet. 

He huffed, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him with a soft click. His boots scraped lightly against the wooden floor as he moved further in. It was late. Too late for anyone to greet him, but still, he’d paused by the door as if expecting her to get up and do just that. He muttered under his breath, scolding himself for the ridiculous thought. 

‘Isn’t that the point of having a wife? You come home late, feeling like shit, and she greets you with love and all that bullshit.’  

Levi loosened his cravat, tossing it onto the chair, then kicked off his boots with practiced ease. His movements were quiet, efficient, and deliberate, but his mind wasn’t. 

There she was, sprawled out under the light sheet, one arm tucked beneath her head and the other draped protectively over the cat, who lay belly-up between her arm and her side. Both were fast asleep, undisturbed by his return.  

Levi stopped in his tracks, his sharp gaze softening as it landed on her. She looked peaceful. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, the moonlight catching the soft curve of her cheek and the faint messiness of her hair against the pillow.  

His eyes lingered, trailing down the length of her body to her hips. The sheet clung loosely to her form, draping over her in a way that left little to the imagination. Levi caught himself staring Hange would probably throw some biological explanation but he only nodded to himself and muttered under his breath, “Nice.”  

‘What the hell am I doing?’ he thought, shaking his head slightly. But the pull was there, undeniable and quietly insistent. 

Almost without thinking, he took a step closer, then another, until he was at her side. The cat stretched out before curling into covering his face with his paws. Levi crouched slightly, bringing himself level with her.  

For a moment, he debated whether he should wake her. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say— or even what he wanted from her.  

Her hair was a little wild, strands of it splayed across her face and pillow. The image of the other military board members’ complaints about their own wives popped into his mind uninvited.  

‘Ugh, she’s turned into some cold bitch, I’m telling ya. Won’t even let me touch her lately.’ Levi remembered thinking, Yeah, well, maybe it’s because your secretary sits on your lap half-naked, you bastard. I wouldn’t touch you either. 

The memory made his jaw tighten. The idea of sitting in a room full of other alphas, whining about his wife, made him want to retch—or maybe that was just the alcohol. Either way, he thought, ‘I should try, right? To be a better husband.’ 

Slowly, Levi leaned in. The faint scent of her hair—soft, warm, and subtly sweet, like coconut and jasmine—washed over him. It was... nice. Comforting, even. 

Without overthinking it, Levi reached out, his hand brushing against her head in a careful, hesitant gesture. His fingers moved with an uncharacteristic gentleness as he let himself grow accustomed to her scent. It smelled so good, so calming, that a small, ridiculous part of him wondered if, in a rut, he might’ve purred. 

Then, before he could second-guess himself, he pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to the top of her head. It wasn’t out of love—not yet—but more out of a sense of duty, a vague understanding that this was what he should be doing. 

Straightening up, he nodded to himself, absurdly convinced he’d just done something monumental. His gaze drifted to the nightstand, where her ring sat. A thought struck him, one that seemed like an absolute stroke of genius in his overtired mind. ‘I’m a man who resolves problems.’ 

With newfound determination, Levi grabbed a spool of thread and some glue from his desk. Sitting down, he began carefully wrapping the thread around the base of the ring, reducing its size. He worked methodically, though his vision blurred slightly from exhaustion. 

The task absorbed him entirely until he felt a gentle tug.  

“Oi!” he barked, his voice low but sharp.  

The cat had taken an interest in the thread, enthusiastically pulling at the loose end with its tiny claws. Its wide eyes gleamed with mischievous energy.  

“Don’t do that,” Levi muttered, reaching to swat the thread away from the feline troublemaker. The cat, unbothered, merely stretched again before curling up smugly beside him.  

Levi picked up the cat, holding it up to eye level. In his slightly intoxicated state, he stared at the feline with the seriousness of someone about to start a profound debate. 

“You’re fat,” he declared, as if he and the animal—who had the mental capacity of a toddler—had some long-standing, unresolved feud. “And adopted.” 

“Meow,” the cat replied, entirely unbothered. 

Levi’s expression didn’t falter. “And your balls are cut off,” he added smugly, a hint of triumph in his tone. “So, I’m winning.” 

His eyes squinted as he looked at the cat, and when the animal tilted its head, he mimicked the movement. Groaning complaints filled the air as the cat wanted to be put down already but Levi held it closer to his face. The pink paw pads pressed against Levi’s face, shoving him away.  

“Meowww,” the cat protested. But unlike all the previous insults, Levi rubbed his face against the animal, enjoying the softness. 

In his drunken state, his words slurred together. “How the fuck do you do it?” he asked, almost offended. “You smell good even though you clean your whole body with the same tongue you use to clean your asshole.”  

The cat kept complaining, kicking at Levi until he finally set it back down. 

Now, with conviction, he kept going with his previous task. Once he thought his mission was a complete success, Levi admired the ring resting between his fingers, pride swelling in his chest. “See? Told you I could do it,” he mumbled, smirking as he observed his creation. He turned to look at the cat, which had climbed back on top of his desk, as if challenging his capabilities. “I’m such a good husband,” he declared as the ring diameter had reduced with the thread.  

But when morning came and the sun’s harsh rays pierced through the room, waking him with a killer hangover, Levi stared at the ring in disbelief and second-hand embarrassment. It felt like the actions of a stranger, not his own.  

“Why the fuck did I do that?” he muttered. 

One hand rose to his face, shielding his features as he groaned—partly from the hangover, partly from sheer embarrassment. “If the ring was shitty before, now it’s even worse,” he muttered. 

It was almost mid-morning, far too late by Levi’s standards. He reeked of alcohol, his hair was a disheveled mess, and he desperately needed a shave. The room’s temperature crept higher with each passing minute, and he was all too aware it was going to be an unbearably hot day. 

“Levi?” her voice startled him, pulling him from his thoughts. He opened his eyes. 

“Do you know why Clauwsy has glue in his fur?” she asked, holding the cat in one arm while using the other to carefully work a brush through the feline’s tangled fur. Levi didn’t respond—just let out a slow, resigned sigh. 

“Are you alright? It’s late for you to still be here,” she added, her tone soft but curious. 

Levi dragged himself out of bed with a low grunt, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’ve got the morning off,” he mumbled, heading toward the basin to splash some cold water on his face. The sharp chill hit his skin, waking him up just enough to feel even more miserable about the state he was in. 

She was still working on the cat’s fur, her expression somewhere between focused and annoyed. “Good. You look like you need it,” she remarked, glancing over at him briefly. 

Levi grabbed a towel, drying his face. “Yeah, I got that part,” he muttered. As he turned back toward the room, he noticed her scanning the nightstand, then the desk. 

“What are you looking for?” he asked, his voice low but curious. 

“My ring,” she replied, her tone sharp with frustration. “I’ve looked everywhere for it, but I can’t find it. Have you seen it?” 

Levi froze for a moment, his hand gripping the towel tighter. ‘Shit,’ he thought, glancing toward the drawer where he’d stashed the poorly-repaired ring last night. 

“I... uh...” He cleared his throat awkwardly and turned to the desk. Reaching inside the drawer, he pulled out the ring, now wrapped in lumpy, uneven thread with spots of glue visible along the edges. He hesitated before handing it to her, his expression uncharacteristically sheepish. “Here.” 

Her expression shifted from confusion to clear displeasure as she took the ring from his hand. She turned it over, inspecting the botched craftsmanship. “What… what is this?” she asked, holding it up like it might bite her. 

Levi scratched the back of his neck, his face tinged with a rare hint of embarrassment. “It didn’t fit you properly,” he mumbled, barely audible. “Thought I’d, uh, fix it.” 

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Fix it?” she repeated, her voice heavy with disbelief. 

Before she could even argue, Levi cleared his throat, clearly steering the conversation in a different direction. “You can go out now,” he said casually, his tone flat, but his words immediately caught her attention. 

“Wait, really?” Her face lit up like a thousand stars, a grin spreading wide across her lips. 

“Yes, but you gotta listen—” 

Before he could finish, she was already walking toward the door, her excitement propelling her forward. 

Levi’s reflexes were faster. His arm shot out, easily catching her by the wrist and tugging her back to his side. “Oi, oi, oi, hold up, girly,” he said, the nickname slipping out in his usual blunt tone. 

Her smile faltered for a split second, and her lips pressed into a thin line. ‘What did he just call me?’ she thought, her cheeks warming slightly with a mix of embarrassment and indignation. 

“I said,” Levi continued, his voice low and deliberate, “you gotta listen up. The world isn’t going anywhere.” 

But her gaze betrayed her impatience, darting back to the door as if it might disappear at any second. The urgency in her expression was almost comical, and it made Levi click his tongue in irritation. Without warning, he gripped her cheeks firmly, forcing her to look at him. 

“Oi, pay attention,” he said, his sharp grey eyes locking with hers. “If you don’t listen, I’m locking the door again like I did for the past three weeks. And then? Bye-bye going out.” 

Her eyes widened slightly, and she pouted, a small noise of protest escaping her lips. “Sorry,” she mumbled, her tone soft and sheepish as her bottom lip jutted out slightly. 

Levi exhaled heavily, running a hand through his disheveled hair. The reluctance was evident in the way his shoulders tensed, but he was someone who preferred ripping the bandage off. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just gonna say it,” he began, his tone measured but firm. “This is a military headquarters. Everyone here is mostly betas and alphas.” 

Her brows furrowed, a flicker of confusion in her eyes. “Okay... and?” 

Levi looked away for a moment, as if debating how blunt he should be. His jaw tightened before he turned back to her. “Most of the alphas here haven’t seen a pretty girl in dresses in a long while, wayless an omega.” His voice was calm, but the weight of his words hung in the air like a warning. 

Her expression immediately shifted, offense flashing across her face. “That’s not my fault!” she shot back, her arms crossing defensively over her chest. 

“I fucking know,” Levi replied flatly, his tone unchanging. “But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s true. And you should take precautions.” He paused, letting his words sink in, before continuing. “This is a working place. People are working here. Do not disturb the peace.” 

She stared at him, her indignation clear in the way her lips pressed into a thin line. “So, what, you’re saying I’ll be a distraction just by existing?” 

Levi rubbed his temples, already regretting bringing this up. “Look, I’m not saying it’s fair, and I’m not saying it’s right. I’m just telling you how it is. Don’t be stupid, and don’t do or wear anything that’ll drag too much attention to yourself while I’m not around.” 

She looked away, her jaw tightening, but she stayed silent. The mixture of embarrassment and frustration on her face didn’t escape his notice. Levi sighed, his voice softening just a touch. “If some asshole does something inappropriate, you tell me, and I’ll handle it. But I need to work, and if you want to walk around here unclaimed, you’ve gotta be sharp.” 

Her shoulders eased slightly, though she still wouldn’t meet his gaze. After a moment of silence, she gave a small, reluctant nod. “Alright,” she muttered, her voice quieter than before. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he added, his tone curt as he wrapped up the conversation. 

Somehow, that made her chuckle softly, the sound light and unexpected. Levi raised an eyebrow in silent question, his expression asking what she found so funny. 

“So I don’t wear heels?” she teased, a faint smile tugging at her lips. 

Levi shot her a deadpan look, unimpressed. “Don’t get cocky with me,” he said flatly. 

“Good.” Levi stepped back, satisfied with her response, though the tension in the air lingered. He wasn’t the type to coddle, and he knew his approach wasn’t exactly gentle, but he also wasn’t going to sugarcoat reality. “You can go,” he added after a pause, his tone lighter. “Just don’t make me regret it.” 

With a loud sigh, he turned to prepare for training. Grabbing his gear, he muttered to himself, “What’s the worst thing that could happen?” The words felt hollow even as he thought them, a weak attempt to reassure himself. 

— 

“Good morning!”

Hange paused mid-step, observing the scene from what they considered a safe distance, a piece of bread dangling from their mouth—a quick breakfast snatched during their busy schedule. Their curious eyes gleamed as they took in the unfolding interaction.

“M-Morning?” The ginger-haired girl blinked in confusion, her gaze shifting between her companion and the new arrival—a girl dressed in civilian clothes, cradling a cat in her arms.

“Well, good morning indeed,” the male soldier beside her murmured, almost entranced. His dazed admiration earned him a sharp nudge in the ribs from the female soldier next to him, her frown deep enough to scold him silently.

“Excuse me, but where can I find something to eat?” Y/N asked, her cheerful voice cutting through the tension. Her bright smile seemed to radiate warmth, and both cadets found themselves blushing slightly as her delicate perfume drifted their way. Both, despite their gender, unmistakable alphas.

“Oh, it’s on the bottom floor. The biggest two doors—you can’t miss them. They’re probably wide open,” the ginger-haired girl explained hurriedly, a hint of shyness creeping into her tone.

“Thank you, you’re very sweet,” Y/N replied, her smile widening.

“And you smell very sweet to—I mean, you’re very sweet too!” the girl stammered, her face turning beet red as she fumbled to recover. Her companion couldn’t hold back a chuckle, clearly amused by her flustered state.

“W-who… who are you?” the ginger-haired girl managed, her embarrassed smile giving way to a mix of curiosity and unease.

Without hesitation and with the same bright, welcoming smile, Y/N answered, “I’m Captain Levi’s wife.”

Both cadets froze, their eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets as they processed her words.

“Ah…” they whispered in stunned unison.

“Nice to meet you! See you around!” Y/N waved enthusiastically before strolling off, leaving the two cadets to exchange wide-eyed glances. Slowly, almost dazedly, they lifted their hands to wave back.

As Y/N’s voice echoed down the corridor, greeting yet another group of cadets with a cheerful, “Hi, good morning!” the trio of male soldiers glanced at each other before responding awkwardly, “Good morning…” Their words were followed by stifled chuckles as they watched her pass.

“Dear Sheena…” Hange muttered, biting back a laugh as they observed from their hidden vantage point. Finally, they gave in, shaking with quiet laughter. “God, Levi’s never going to unlock that door again.”

They paused, weighing their options. “Should I tell him?” A mischievous grin spread across their face as they snorted, “No fucking way. Let him find out himself.”

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out.

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Rule Breaker - Pt 2

max verstappen x single mom!reader

{prev} {next}

warnings: cursing, reader y/nsplains, jos is an asshole, fluff, barely proofread, logan tries to flirt, y/n's bestie is a tumblr girlie at heart, kiddo steals the show Summary: Max has it all...right? Besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. Until... You moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles. word count: 6833 auth.note: thank you all so much for the love for part 1!!! ily all and i'm having so much fun writing this

The paddock was relatively quiet so early in the morning. Unable to sleep, y/n had left the hotel and made her way to the track. She was taking the opportunity to explore the settings on the camera and getting her bearings since she didn't have any work duties to complete until later in the day. She had expected Kevin to want to come with her, but he'd opted to sleep in with Ellie, who would bring him to the track later. So she wandered, exchanging the occasional greeting with others. Stopping to take a photo of a bird perched on the fence in front of pit lane, she backed up, crashing into someone.

"Whoop, s'cuse me, sorry," she said, turning to apologize properly. She recognized the two men by their faces but her mind blanked on their names.

"It's alright, ma'am. Didn't mess up your shot, did we?" His American accent was a happy surprise.

"I don't think so." Smiling, y/n lowered the camera. "My fault, and I'll blame it on being new."

"Marketing?" The other man guessed.

Australian. And suddenly she remembered their names. "Social media. I'm y/n."

"So great to meet you." Logan tipped his head slightly. "Carolina?"

"God, you can take the hick outta Carolina, but you can't take the Carolina outta the hick." He grinned and she laughed. "North Carolina, yeah."

Oscar stared at Logan. "How did you guess that? She just sounds plain American?"

"No, dude, it's the lilt. It's like when George got pissed we couldn't pick up on the different English accents."

"Can he pick up on the different American south accents?" y/n asked.

Logan rolled his eyes. "He knows Brooklyn, Midwest, valley girl, and just south."

"In his defense it's hard to pick out each individual one," Oscar pointed out.

Y/n shrugged. "You've got a point. I sound different from people that grew up just an hour from me."

"Yeah! And I know mine's been butchered from so much time in Europe." Logan nodded.

"You still sound more like home than anyone else I've met."

"I was gonna say the same thing – you sound like home." He smiled, a soft, genuine smile that had her smiling in return.

"And what do I sound like?" Oscar asked with a grin.

"A magical place far, far away," y/n told him. She covertly checked the time and wondered if hospitality had finished setting up so she could get some coffee.

"Hear that? I sound like Star Wars."

"She's using southern charm on you, dude," Logan snorted.

"Well it's working, I'm charmed."

A giggle bubbled up her throat and she let it free, raising her camera and giving them a hopeful look. "Okay?"

"Hang on—" Logan fussed with his hair, and y/n laughed when Oscar reached to help him, then they both had to fuss with Oscar's hair. "Think we're presentable enough?"

She nodded, moving so the sunlight was beside them. She got several photos and thanked them. "I'll send them to y'alls social media teams?"

"You can just send it to me." Logan began patting his pockets for his phone.

"Unbelievable," Oscar muttered under his breath, and y/n barely heard it, giving Logan her number and adding him to her contacts once he'd sent her a text.

"I should get going – Sorry for bumping into you."

"Don't apologize, I'm glad you did."

As she walked away she gave her head a little shake, smiling to herself when she overheard Oscar's grumbling that Logan had flirted with fuckin' Red Bull's social media admin. Something told her to glance back and she did, amused to see Logan watching her. Don't show interest, don't show interest, don't—

He gave a little wave. And she smiled, waving back.

Fuck.

Ducking around the corner, she wandered until she found hospitality, grogginess taking over as she made her way to the back to fix herself coffee. She recognized a couple engineers and mechanics that she'd met in Milton Keyes and greeted them, settling into a corner to drink and look over the pictures she'd gotten.

She was on her second coffee, had uploaded the pictures to her laptop, and was editing the first batch for a short video when the chair across from her was pulled out, taking her shoe with it.

"Sorry," Max said when she yelped, chuckling as he bent to pick up her shoe. "Didn't know you were attached."

"Bad habit I'm afraid." Taking the shoe, she shifted to put it back on. "Picked it up when I was pregnant now I do it without thinking."

"For the swelling?" he asked, sitting down and taking a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah." After tying the shoelace she shifted, tucking one foot beneath her. "Good morning, by the way."

"Morning. Already working?"

"I'm gonna do a short photo tour of the track. I got some nice shots."

"You walked the track?"

"I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep, so… It's beautiful first thing in the morning."

Max nodded, picking up his coffee again. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

"Max, you should know that hotel beds suck. Especially with a three year old sleeping sideways and a snoring friend in the other bed. Is this where you tell me you slept great?"

"Haha, no. My sleep was shit but it wasn't because of the bed. I didn't get enough." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I was up late sim racing."

"Okay, explain sim racing to me," she requested, slipping one earbud in so she could check that the music she'd selected went well with the photos. Tweaking it as he began to talk, she realized she was barely paying attention to her work, exporting and posting the video to all the platforms then closing her laptop to focus on him. He talked with his hands. It was something she'd picked up on already, that if he was focused on the topic he used his hands. Maxplaining the fans called it. Finishing her coffee, she listened intently, propping her chin on one hand.

 He smiled, almost shyly, as he finished. "It's something I truly enjoy. I'm not very sociable. I like going out once in a while, but I prefer to stay in, yeah? And I can spend hours in the sim without thinking twice."

"I spent the last few days watching a lot of interviews. Not just of you and Checo, but everyone on the grid," y/n said softly. "Leclerc talks about piano and his family, Norris talks about gaming and DJing, and Hamilton has his six hundred side projects."

"Yes?" He didn't look or sound impatient for her to get to the point, and she appreciated that.

"The thing is, they all have passions outside of racing. This – formula one, fastest cars, all that – is a goal, a dream, but they all have something else they love, that they can pursue now." She paused, meeting his eyes. "The only thing I've seen you passionate about is racing."

He blinked once, nodding his head. "Because it is my passion."

Y/n regarded him carefully for a moment. "You're very lucky, Max."

That must have surprised him, because his brow furrowed. "Why do you say that?"

"Not everyone is able to be successful following their passion. Being able to do what you love for both a job and hobbies is almost unheard of, yet you're doing it. You break records and win races and yeah you've had a few setbacks but you're still in love with this. And on your off time you're training to be better and studying tracks and you go home and race on your computer." She shook her head in amazement. "You're incredibly lucky, that your passion is not only something you're good at but something you can be immersed in nonstop, and that you haven't lost your love for it."

"I guess I am lucky," he said carefully. "But luck had nothing to do with me getting into formula one."

"I know." She held up her hands, not wanting him to think she thought he was in the position he was purely by chance. "I can't imagine how much work you've done over the years, or how many sacrifices you've had to make. It's just… In my experience, passion doesn't always equal financial stability is what I'm trying to say."

"What's that saying? Do something you love and you never work a day in your life?"

Y/n snorted. "That's bullshit. I love sleeping and yet I still have to work."

That made him laugh and she rolled her eyes, even though she enjoyed the sound. "Surely you love more than sleep."

"I love a lot of things. Maybe that's been my problem all my life. I find things and fall in love with them and when I think hey this might be it something new and shiny comes along and I fall in love with that."

"There's nothing wrong with being passionate about many things," Max said gently.

"That's what I keep telling myself. And yet—"

"Are you saying you don't love your job?"

She froze, a wave of panic rippling through her. "Uhmm… Since it's technically my first day I can't answer that."

"Okay. Do you love your social media?" he asked, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table.

The table which was, suddenly, smaller than she remembered.

"I like engaging others. I like creating conversations and seeing my work appreciated," she finally said.

"You sound like a PR person. Do you love it?" He enunciated each word slowly.

She couldn't say yes. The answer wasn't no, either, because she didn't hate it. "I personally hate it. But you've learned how to make it work for you, yeah? How to word things to spark a conversation among followers? What type of content people appreciate?"

"I like to think so."

"Stop being so unsure of yourself. You study it, right? At your last job when you posted a video and no one liked it what did you do? "

She exhaled harshly. "I compare it to ones that did well and pick it apart to see why it didn't work."

"Why?"

"Why?" she echoed.

"Why did you pick it apart?"

"Because I wanted it to do well," she said slowly.

"And these conversations you want to create, do you join in or sit and watch them happen behind the safety of your screen?" He reached over, gently turning her laptop so he could see the screen.

"I engage. I reply and ask questions to make the viewers want to keep the conversation going."

"Why?"

"Because—" She clicked the mouse, bringing up the comments below the video she'd posted to Instagram. "These comments? Come from people that love this brand – or sport. Some of them are trolls who just want to start up an argument to make their boring lives more interesting for a few minutes, but for the most part it's people who care. People who want to see this team do well. People who had the dream of doing it themselves but life got in the way. People who watched it with their parents and still watch to stay connected to someone they love. It's little kids who want to be like you. It's people who spend their hard earned money on a t-shirt or a hat or a ticket to see someone they admire live out their dream." She took a quick breath, scrolling through the comments. "If I don't like or respond to them, they feel like their opinions don't matter. And maybe they don't in the grand scheme of formula one. But they want to be seen and heard. When I click and they see that Red Bull Racing liked their comment or replied with an emoji or whatever, they have a few seconds of elation, and their support of this team is cemented just a bit more."

Max blinked at her, and she continued even though she heard him draw a breath to speak.

"I know very well how horrible social media can be. However, I've seen how it fosters growth for a company. You're not stupid, I'm sure you've seen how TikTok challenges or Instagram livestreams have brought in more support. Not to mention money. If a post of you wearing your Red Bull shirt gets a million likes, I can probably pull the data and show you that a hundred thousand people went to view the shirt on the official shop and probably twenty-five thousand ordered one. A silly picture of you arriving for race day or a new helmet design pulls people in and gets them excited. And, yes, it makes money. Which in turn pays the salaries of everyone on the team."

"Y/n."

She sucked in a breath. "I'm—"

"Passionate," he whispered before she could say sorry.

"I know what it's like to enjoy something and never feel included," she murmured. "So, yeah… I guess I love what I do, because I like that I can include people in something they love."

His hand covered hers briefly. "For a moment there, I even loved social media."

She watched his fingers squeeze hers before they slid away, wondering why his touch lingered. "Yeah?"

"It's easy to forget that there are real people saying nice things. Sometimes all you can see is the negativity."

"Negativity only breeds more negativity—"

"And when you look at it, it's all you'll see," he murmured.

"Well… So far everything I've posted today has been met with positivity."

"That's good."

"Okay, a few comments about wanting to see Lando on the podium. Thank you for letting me rant about why I do what I do," she said, glancing at his hand without meaning to.

"You let me do the same," he reminded her. Lifting his chin, he waited until she looked at him again. "Are you too busy to see what I was talking about?"

"I don't have anything scheduled until after lunch."

"Perfect." He lightly drummed on the table and stood. "Do you want to see my rig?"

"You do know I won't have a clue what anything but the computer and monitor are, right?" Smiling, she stood and began packing away her stuff.

Closing her laptop, he handed it over, catching her earbud when it fell off the edge of the table. "Maybe you'll like it so much you'll want one of your own."

*-*

He was rambling, he knew he was, telling her about the setup and his plan for the 24 hour race over the weekend and how he had everything scheduled so he could do two of the things he loved most. But he could tell she was paying attention, actually listening, as if she really cared. Rubbing his palms against his thighs, he finished and looked up at her.

"So this is your actual job and the f1 thing is just a hobby?" she teased.

Laughing, he got to his feet and got himself a can of Red Bull. "It's just racing, y/n."

"And racing is life."

"Absolutely." He watched her muffle a yawn behind her hand.

"Am I allowed to mention it in my posts? Because it sounds so badass. Sim race stint then qualifying, chug a Red Bull, sim race stint then race."

"You can mention it, not like it's a secret." He watched her hide another yawn and cleared his throat. "Looks like you need a Red Bull."

She shook her head. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Nodding, he checked the time. Just over an hour before he had to meet with his trainer. "Of course."

"I hate Red Bull," she whispered.

He choked on a laugh. "You what?"

"I've tried so many times! I can just about stomach one of the flavored editions, but the original? Tastes like battery acid to me." She looked embarrassed and covered her face with her hands. "Please don't tell anyone."

"You hate the drink. So you accepted a job with a team owned by the drink company." He wanted to laugh. It was so absurd to him.

"Yes," she groaned.

"That would be like me taking a job at Instagram."

"I know it's so bad. What makes it worse is I love Monster—"

"Of course you do," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"Please say you won't tell anyone. If corporate hears, I'll probably get fired. It's in my contract that I can only drink that while in pubic during race weekends which means I've got to either stick to water or learn to fake it."

"Your secret's safe with me," Max promised, breathing in the aroma of her perfume as she moved past him to get her bag.

"Thank you. I think Ellie would kill me if I told her I have to find a new job."

He didn't want her to go so soon. Ridiculous because he knew he'd see her in just a few hours. By the end of the weekend he'd be sick of seeing her. Sipping his drink, he finally sighed and cleared his throat. "You can take a power nap."

She whipped her head around, sending a wave of her perfume his way. "What?"

"A power nap." Before he could stop himself he was setting down his drink and taking her bag off her shoulder. "Thirty minutes, and you'll feel great."

"Max—"

"You need to be alert and focused, and I don't have a Monster for you to drink. Please, I insist." He motioned to his bed in the far corner, gently nudging her shoulder when she hesitated.

"You're sure?" she asked softly, and when he assured her he was she bent to take off her shoes, looking almost elated as she walked over to the bed. "Wait, I need to set an alarm."

"I'll wake you."

She lifted an eyebrow and he pulled out his phone to set a thirty minute timer. Satisfied, she sat on the edge of the bed, thanking him several times as she laid down and curled up on her side. "Thirty minutes."

"Thirty minutes," he murmured, sitting on the couch to answer emails. It was fifteen minutes before she stopped shifting and kicking, and when he heard her breathing even out he knew she was asleep. Resetting the timer, he stood and carefully pulled the blanket over her, then returned to the couch and tried his best to ignore that she was sleeping in his room.

Her phone started buzzing on the table. She didn't stir so he ignored it, focusing on his email. That was impossible though so he cleared out his unread texts, one foot bouncing each time he heard her breathe. A mistake. It had been a mistake. He jumped up when her phone began to buzz again and, glancing from it to her, he realized she would undoubtedly sleep through it. He picked it up and was about to silence it when he saw the name on the screen. Ellie. That was her friend that was helping with Kevin… Something could be wrong, so he answered the call and lifted the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, we just— Who's this?"

"Max. This is Ellie?"

"…Yes…" The woman sounded wary. "Why are you – Oh! Max! Right of course. Um, is y/n okay?"

Max looked over at her, smiling faintly when she shifted. "She's fine. Taking a nap, actually."

Ellie snorted. "Of course she is."

"Is everything okay with Kevin?"

As though aware of the question, Kevin began chattering in the background. "Yeah, he's perfect. I was calling to let her know we just got here but I ain't got a clue where to go."

"Are you at the main entrance?" he asked, slipping out of the room so he wouldn't wake y/n. Ellie told him where they were and he nodded as he pulled out his own phone to text one of the team assistants. "You're going to walk down to the turnstiles, scan your passes and come through. Someone will be there to meet you and bring you to the motorhome."

"Ok perfect. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome. We'll be downstairs to meet you." Ending the call, he checked that the assistant was going to meet them then reentered his room. He closed the door and silenced his timer. "Y/n?"

She hummed in her sleep, and he smiled while he crossed over to the bed.

"Y/n," he called gently. She groaned, shifting to face away from him and it suddenly occurred to him that when he went to bed that night he would smell her on the pillow and the sheets. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea, but it was too late now.

Would he be an asshole if he had his sheets changed before the end of the day?

Leaning down, he gently touched her shoulder. She inhaled sharply and he saw her eyes snap open. "You have company on its way," he said softly, tugging the covers back in case she tried to get comfortable again. His eyes swept down, locking on the skin bared by her shirt, which had ridden up in her sleep. "Come on, you had a nice nap, time to wake up."

"This bed is so much more comfortable than the one at the hotel," she mumbled, slowly sitting up and turning to face him. Smoothing down her shirt, she stretched and sighed, blinking as she focused on him. "Oh! Ellie and Kevin!"

He laughed as she leapt to her feet, his hands immediately moving to steady her. "It's fine, they haven't even made it to the paddock yet. I've sent someone to meet them."

"Oh," she murmured. "Thank you."

His hands were on her hips, and he forced his breathing to remain calm as she rested her hands on his forearms. The space, which had felt roomy and open, now felt tiny with how close she was to him. He was painfully aware of the scant space between them and each place their bodies touched, but more so of her. That heady floral scent of her perfume and the softness of her palms against his skin. The gentle lushness of her hips. He could hear every breath as his gaze traveled up from her hands to her face, lingering on her slightly parted lips before settling on her eyes. "You good?"

"Yep."

"Right. Sorry," he mumbled, releasing her hips and taking a step back. "I'll get your shoes."

What was wrong with him? It hadn't been so long that he got turned on like a teenager just from touching a woman… As he bent to retrieve her shoes he counted back, dragging a hand over his face in humiliation. What must she think of him? He'd brought her to his room, showed off his fancy toys, then let her sleep in his bed. She probably thought he wanted to fuck her—

You do.

—which couldn't be further from the truth. He was just being nice. Because she was nice. That was all.

Wasn't it?

And why, he wondered as he handed her shoes to her and told her about answering Ellie's call, did he care what she thought? Not caring was his specialty.  

"How do you feel?" he asked, finishing his drink in one gulp.

"Refreshed. Thank you so much, Max." She tied her shoes and ran her fingers through her hair. Her lips moved but he didn't hear a word she said, watching her gather her hair and twist and twirl it, securing it with a band from her wrist.

Witchcraft.

"That okay with you?" she asked, slipping her phone into her pocket.

"Of course," he answered automatically.

She clapped her hands together. "Great! I'll put up a post asking for fan questions."

Max blinked, pinching his brows together. "Fan questions."

"Well we can't do an impromptu Q and A without questions." She had her other phone out now, fingers flying across the screen. "We'll do it this afternoon? Just let me know the best time."

Fuck's sake. What had he agreed to? More importantly, how had she gotten him to say yes? Everyone knew he had a low tolerance for marketing. He could take it back and say no, he couldn't do it today. He could tell her to get Checo to do it, that he would do it another time. He'd gotten out of marketing and social media stupidity without a problem plenty of times before. But he was already opening his calendar, going over his schedule, already telling her the open slot he had at 5, and was already putting Q and A with Y/n in that space.

"Perfect," she enthused, shouldering her bag and heading for the door, her fingers still tapping swiftly on the screen. "They should be here about now, right?"

Nodding, he followed her out the room and down, smiling when Kevin came through the front door with a woman he assumed was Ellie. The boy dropped her hand and sprinted over to y/n, who dropped down to hug him tightly. Max looked on, chest squeezing, searching for something that had been lacking, as mother and son talked and hugged, their words overlapping. They both understood each other perfectly, though, and he smiled at Kevin's excited retelling of what he'd had for breakfast. Introducing himself to Ellie, he reached to shake her hand.

"Mister Max!" The boy squealed.

"Kevin!" He was down in a split second, Ellie forgotten and chest constricting tighter as Kevin hugged him like a long lost friend.

"I saw two cats and a horse!" Kevin tugged at his shirt, grinning as he showed off his Red Bull merch.

"You did? What kind of cats?" he asked, taking the boy's cap and beginning to roll the brim for him while the boy described the cats and then the horse. Returning the cap, he enthused over animals, telling him about his own two cats and pulling out his phone to show him a few pictures.

"I miss Cotton," Kevin said with a small pout.

"Is that your cat?" Max saw his trainer approaching and gave him a quick nod.

"Yeah. We can't bring him to Eng-a-lund so Aunt Ellie's sister has him." Kevin's pout melted into a faint smile. "But she sends lots of pictures!"

"That's good. And maybe you'll be able to get him soon."

"Mama says it's s'pensive." The boy sighed as though he had to earn the money to bring his beloved cat to England.

"I know," Max sympathized. "Go with your mum, yeah? I've got to go train."

Kevin's face puckered in confusion. "Train? Like Shang?"

Y/n cleared her throat. "We watched Mulan on the flight last night."

"What did Shang do?" Max vaguely remembered the movie, but it had been years since he'd seen it.

"He made a man out of 'em."

"Okay, doodle bug, we have to let Max get his workout in," y/n said, flashing Max a smile. "If you ask another question he'll start singing the song."

Max stared at her then turned his attention back to Kevin. "What song?"

Because he had to. Because hearing her groan as her son began singing a song about being a man was priceless. And the dramatic way she hung her head when Ellie joined in made him laugh. Kevin giggled, cutting off his singing and looking at Max hopefully. "Will you watch it with me?"

"I—"

"Mister Max is too busy to watch a movie," y/n cut in.

"We'll watch it this weekend," Max promised, hating the sadness in the boy's eyes. Relieved when it disappeared in a flash, he gave him a high five and stood.

"Yay!"

He exchanged a look with y/n, who sighed and nodded, reaching for Kevin's hand. "I'll see you later," he said.

"5 o'clock," she reminded him as he headed out.

*-*

"So…"

Y/n groaned at Ellie's knowing tone. Watching as Kevin was snatched up by Lando so he wasn't crashed into by Charles in the impromptu game of football, she folded her arms over her chest. "So?"

"He had coffee with you."

God, here we go.

"Showed you his private room and his expensive computer setup… Let you take a nap in his bed—"

"He's just being nice," y/n insisted.

"And he's gonna take time out of his ridiculously busy weekend to watch a movie with Kevin." Ellie hummed, taking a sip of her tea.

Ignoring her, y/n looked on as Lando, Oscar, and Logan pretended to fight back the others while Kevin kicked the ball towards the goal. They were all shouting, dramatic and over the top, and above it all she heard the sweetest sound of her son's laughter. When the ball rolled into the net there was a roar that rivaled a championship game, and she joined in the cheering and applauding.

"You could do worse," Ellie murmured.

"Would you stop?" Y/n rolled her eyes, giving Logan a thumbs up when he gestured to the football and Kevin, understanding they wanted to have another quick game.

"He's cute."

"They all are," y/n muttered without thinking, lifting her camera for a few photos for her personal collection. Recognizing Checo when he suddenly appeared in the viewfinder, she snapped more photos, lowering the camera to watch.

"You know—"

"I can't wait for you to start your job so I can come and try to partner you up with a coworker," she huffed, snorting when Ellie gasped.

"You wouldn't."

"In a heartbeat."

"Besides, there's only one person in that group that's technically your coworker," Ellie said.

"I'm not here for that."

"I know." Ellie leaned against her briefly. "Wouldn't be me if I didn't encourage a delusion, though."

"Yeah…" Y/n laughed softly. "It's my first day, of course everyone's already in love with me."

"Exactly."

It was what she loved about Ellie. No matter what, she could make her laugh. Grinning, she watched Kevin bump into Oscar, who immediately collapsed with an exaggerated howl of pain, holding the leg that Kevin hadn't touched. "And they're all so good with kids."

"Total dad material, every one of them," Ellie agreed. "Not a stepdad, a dad who stepped up."

She choked on a laugh, playfully swatting her friend's arm. Because she knew Logan had overheard them. "Stop—"

"And probably more than willing to crack your back—"

"Oh my god." Clapping a hand over her face, she sensed someone approaching. "I have to work with these people."

"Only until they fuck a baby into you."

"Hey, y/n, your kid's so cool," Logan said.

Her face burned but she slowly pulled her hand away, giving him a weak smile. "Thanks."

He propped his hands on his waist, breathing heavy as he watched Kevin dart between Lando, Oscar, Checo, and Alex. "He always this energetic?"

"Fify-fifty. He's either like this or so quiet I worry he's up to something."

Logan chuckled. "Is he a troublemaker?"

"Nah, if he's quiet it's because he's focused on his cars or studying a bug."

"Christ! Get it away from me!"

Y/n's heart lurched at the sudden shriek from Lando, and she barely saw him sprinting away from her son, who was holding something in his hands.

"It's a frog, mate!" Oscar shouted behind him.

"Don't care!"

Kevin slowly walked over to y/n. "Mama, look!" he said, eyes shining with excitement. His cheeks were a little flushed from the hard play and he was giggling. "Mister Lando scared of a l'il frog."

"He's just not a country boy like you, honey," she soothed. "But maybe we should put the frog somewhere he'll be safe?"

"C'mon, Kev, I'll help you," Logan offered.

"Hmm," Ellie hummed once Logan had scooped Kevin up, cupping one hand over the boy's to keep the frog from jumping away.

"Shut it."

"I didn't say a word."

"Please, that hmm contained at least two paragraphs, ten innuendoes, and a pointed reference," y/n said, trailing behind Logan. Looking on as he set Kevin down near the tree line, she got a few pictures of them releasing the frog. She cringed when her son wiped his dirty hands on his shorts but Logan didn't seem to mind, lifting him up and carrying him back to her.

"He's free!" Kevin squealed. "Thanks, Mister Logan."

"Anytime, Kev." He tousled his curly hair after setting him down, flashing a shy smile at y/n.

She returned the smile, eyes following Kevin as he ran back to the game. "He's gonna pass out as soon as we get back to the hotel."

"He could probably run circles around all of us all night," Logan chuckled.

"True…"

"So like…" He cleared his throat. "Are you married?"

God, she loved Floridians. "No," she answered, turning to look at him. "Are you?"

"God no." He made a face at the thought. "So you're single?"

She nodded, already formulating how she would turn him down if he asked her out. She was too busy. Not interested in anything romantic at the moment. It never hurt to be honest, right? She couldn't lie and say she just had a messy breakup or—

"Would you be interested in – I'm not trying to hook up or anything," he said quickly when she opened her mouth. "Just, like, as a friend? I know how it is to feel like a fish out of water here. I'm kind of used to it but I can remember feeling like I was alone and surrounded by people who didn't understand my Americanisms."

"Oh." Aw. Damn it, she couldn't say no to that. "I… Yeah, sure, I'd like that."

He smiled. "Awesome. Maybe we can do something tomorrow after practice?" he suggested.

"Sure, sounds great. Text me?" she requested. Her phone alarm started going off and she pulled it out to silence it. "I gotta go. I'll see you later."

She waved to Ellie and mimed that she had to get some work done, waiting for her friend to wave back before making her way to the garage. While walking she got a message from one of the mechanics that the cars were photo ready and quickened her pace, envisioning the photos she would get of the mechanics and engineers. As she worked she asked questions, truly interested in what everyone did, a small idea forming that she'd run by Mr. Horner later. She knew that she would enjoy mini profiles on the team, with just the most basic of information like their names and where they were from. Maybe how long they'd been on the team, what had brought them to formula one…

"Thanks so much guys," she said as she finished up, declining the offer of a cold Red Bull. Her alarm went off again – twenty minutes to get ready to meet Max in the lounge back at the motorhome – and she switched off the camera, waving bye and turning to leave the garage.

She slammed into a human wall, grunting in surprise as she stumbled back. Twice in one day, really? The bump had caused the camera to slam against her ribs and she rubbed the spot gently. "I'm sorry! Wasn't looking where I was going."

She expected a chuckle, a reassurance that it was a hazard of the job. Maybe even an apology in return. Instead, the older man sneered at her, looking her up and down in such a way she felt like a child caught misbehaving. "You need to learn your place."

She gulped, fear prickling through her embarrassment. And even though she knew she hadn't done anything wrong, she found her mouth opening to apologize. "S-sorry."

"Horner know better than to hire amateurs," he muttered, scoffing. "He obviously didn't hire you for your looks."

She bristled at that. "I beg your pardon?"

"As you should." He brushed past her.

She felt weak. Clammy and cold. Shuddering slightly, she swallowed hard and left the garage, heading straight for the motorhome, where she was able to catch her breath. Who the hell had that been? He'd been wearing a Red Bull pass, so he had to be on the team. He was obviously important. She couldn't imagine him being considered her boss, not when everyone else had been so nice and—

"Ah, y/n, are you ready to do the Q and A?" Max asked.

Y/n felt her lungs burn and sucked in a breath, staring at the cup of coffee she'd made herself. "Y-yeah, I'll meet you up on the deck?"

Please go up, please go up, please go—

"What's wrong?"

Goddammit.

"Y/n?" He looked and sounded concerned, and she ducked her head as he walked over. "Hey…"

"I'm fine," she lied.

"You're a terrible liar," he said, leaning against the counter. "What happened?"

"Nothing, I'm just overreacting." Rubbing her hand over her face, she shook her head and reached for the coffee. "Just a run-in with an asshole."

"But I haven't seen you in three hours." Max's lips barely twitched at the corner.

"Not you, a different asshole." She felt her cheeks burn and groaned. "I'm not saying you're an asshole!"

"You don't have to, I already know I can be an asshole at times." Folding his arms over his chest, he met her eyes. "Who was it?"

"That's the thing, I don't even know. I was coming out of the garage – You know, I went down to get pics of the mechanics? Anyway, I was about to text you about the Q and A and wasn't looking where I was going and bumped into him."

"Who?"

"I don't know. Older, kinda tall? Sour faced." She raised a hand to the man's approximate height. "I apologized and he told me I need to learn my place, then said I was an amateur and Horner obviously didn't hire me for my looks – I didn't ask his name because I was in shock. All I know is he had a Red Bull pass."

Max's brow furrowed, and she felt him tense. Then, to her surprise, he described the man perfectly.

"Yeah, that's him." She bit her lip. "You know him?"

"Unfortunately," he muttered. "It's my dad."

"Oh." Y/n looked down at her coffee. "Sorry."

"Me too." He sighed, pushing away from the counter. "Don't listen to him, yeah? You have more right to be here than he does, and you're not an amateur. As much as I hate social media, even I can tell that you're excellent at your job."

"Thank you," she whispered. "I just… I've spent my entire adult life working to improve myself and discover my own worth as a human being, and I can give other women empowering pep talks, but I still freeze when a man that thinks he's better than me talks down to me."

"Fuck him," Max said simply. "He's not your boss, he can't control anything you do in your life."

"Either you're really trying to make me feel better or you really don't like your dad," she murmured. When he didn't reply, she slowly lifted her gaze. Seeing the muscle in his jaw twitch, she felt a pang of sympathy. If the man had been that rude to her, a stranger, she couldn't begin to imagine what he'd been like to his own son.

"If he speaks to you like that again, you let me know."

"I don't want to cause a fuss—"

"Not wanting to cause a fuss is why he thinks he can get away with it," Max pointed out. "I'll speak to Christian—"

"Max, no, it's literally my first week!"

"Which is why you have to set boundaries now. He'll either treat you with the respect you deserve or he'll be banned from the paddock."

Y/n blinked in shock. "You'd have him banned?"

"In a heartbeat." The look on his face told her he was serious, from the determined set of his jaw to the way he kept his eyes level with hers. "So either you mention it to Christian in the team meeting or I will."

"God," she groaned, knowing that this had to be just one tiny item among a long list of infractions for Max to want him banned. "Okay. I'll tell him before the team meeting tomorrow."

"Good. Come, let's do the Q and A. You ready?" he asked, taking her empty cup and throwing it away.

"Yeah." Grateful for the distraction, she walked to the stairs with him. "I did a clip of you looking confused and posted it on TikTok and Instagram that went viral because I captioned it When You Ask Max Verstappen About Anything But Racing. Oh and I found out Tumblr fans love making gifs of you laughing. Twitter likes making memes out of your face. Whereas Facebook is mostly a bunch of boomers commenting about how I'm ruining the integrity of the sport."

"I really do hate social media," he snorted.

"And that is why I'm doing social media," she teased. Halfway up the stairs, she slowed, turning to look at him. "Thank you, Max."

"For hating social media? You're welcome."

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@spookystitchery | @halleest | @lyannesworld | @llando4norris

[writememysticfalls]

Nice Kitty | Kol Mikaelson

Summary: Kol stared up at you from the floor. His chest gleamed with sweat. “Nice kitty,” he whispered.

You and Kol are dirty rivals. A spell gives you total control over his body, so you decide to teach him a lesson.

Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x witch!reader

Genre: Suggestive, Enemies to lovers

Word count: >1k

“Morning, princess,” Kol said, sliding into the cabin’s tiny kitchen.

He rested his hands on either side of your head, caging you in.

Kol was naked - apart from a towel draped low on his hips. He shook out his brown curls, spraying you with water.

“You're in a good mood,” you said, eyes fixed on your book.

“Yep,” Kol said. “Because that nasty spell you tried on me last night didn't work.” He booped your nose. “Maybe little Y/n’s not ready for big boy magic.”

“How do you know the spell didn't work?” you said, smirking.

You reached behind your back, and pulled out a human heart - Kol’s heart.

“What have you done to me?” Kol panted, clutching his empty chest.

You smirked. “I stole your heart. I control you now.”

You lifted the heart.

“I am sick of you calling me princess… ” you said, squeezing the heart, so Kol groaned, “and little girl…” he sank down the wall “and mamacita, which is just yuck.” Kol fell to his knees.

Kol stared up at you from the floor. He was panting like a dog, mouth open, his chest gleaming with sweat. “Nice kitty,” he whispered.

You grabbed his hair in your fist.

“If you want your heart back…” you said, twisting his hair, “you'll have to beg.”

Kol narrowed his eyes. “Never. I've been tortured before, love.”

You pulled his hair harder, till his eyes welled up in pain.

“Can I-” Kol stuttered. “Please can I have my heart back?”

You giggled, releasing him.“I'm not giving you your heart back, dumbo. I’m going tell Klaus to give me the white oak stake, or I'll crush the heart and kill you.”

You booped Kol on the nose. “But I couldn't resist. You look so pretty on your knees.”

You and Kol marched through the woods, on the way to meet Klaus.

“I get it. I'm your slave,” Kol said. “But is the outfit really necessary?”

Kol was wearing a pink tutu, a pink fluffy tiara that said “FAIRY PRINCESS”, and a matching pink wand.

“No,” you said, skipping along, holding Kol’s heart. “But you look so cute!”

Kol had had enough. He reached out to snatch the heart from you.

You refused to let go. You and Kol fell to the ground. You rolled over each other in the dirt.

“Get - off!” you shrieked. Kol’s heavy body pinned you to the ground. His hot breath tickled your face.

“Vasmatos-” you tried to say, but Kol pressed his hand over your mouth, stopping you.

You and Kol both squeezed the heart at once.

And you got the weirdest feeling.

It was like being drunk on champagne. Everything turned hazy, golden. The world felt like one hilarious joke.

You suddenly felt that you didn't want to hurt Kol. You wanted to… kiss him.

Kol looked down at you like he was thinking the same thing.

Kol pulled his hand off your mouth, and flicked your plump lips with his thumb.

“That feels funny,” you giggled. “Good funny.”

“Yeah?” Kol said softly.

Kol stuck his tongue out, and licked your pink lips. You started laughing hysterically.

You pushed Kol down onto the soft forest floor, so your body was above his.

“Ha ha,” Kol said. “Upsy daisy.”

He bit the soft skin under your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine.

You noticed Kol’s heart, discarded on the floor. You had a vague feeling that the heart was important. But that felt so distant… and Kol’s mouth was so close…

You reached out, and dug you fingers into the heart.

You and Kol were struck by a vision.

-

A teenage Kol, stretched out on his bed, asleep. The twisted sheet left little of his sun-kissed back to the imagination.

“Taya…” Kol mumbled.

He bit down on his pillow. His breaths sped up.“Taya...”

A woman appeared at the doorway, clearing her throat.

Kol scrambled to a sitting position. The sheet slipped onto the floor.

“I’m awake,” he said thickly, his muscled arms wrapped around his knees. He blushed, and red exploded over his chest and legs.

“You're late for your morning lesson,” she said, faintly smiling. “And… I’m not ‘Taya’. I'm Miss Taya, to you.”

-

“Who’s Taya?” you said, walking behind Kol as he stormed through the forest. You were carrying Kol’s heart in your bag, to avoid touching it.

Kol’s face was a painful red. “You. You got inside my head!”

You said, “Technically, I got inside your heart-”

“Shut up!” he said. “Please… don't do that again.”

Kol was trembling with shame and anger. Your brown eyes had seen deeper into his soul, into his memories, than any girlfriend’s ever had. And it terrified him.

“It's not like I enjoyed that,” you said. “The freaky magic of the heart made me… like you for a second.” You shivered.

Kol realised that they had almost arrived at the Mikaelson house. His time was running out.

“Okay,” Kol said, stopping in his tracks. “You've won. You've humiliated me.” He grabbed the tutu in one hand, and danced around in a circle, waving the wand with the other. His face fell. “Just please don't give me to Klaus.”

You stared hard at Kol. “Why are you so afraid of Klaus?”

Kol scratched the back of his head. “I can't tell you. Just trust me.”

“If you want me to help you, I need the truth,” you said.

Kol looked down. “I've never told anyone this. I don't know how.”

You waited.

Finally, Kol pulled out his heart, and dug his nails in. Both you and Kol both struck by another vision.

-

Teenage Kol, peeking through a cottage doorway.

He was clutching a thorny rose, and his brown, muscled forearms were covered in scratches.

His eyes grew wide.

In the dark room, Taya was gripping the wall, her long hair flowing over her naked body. She was breathing hard.

A naked man grabbed her body from behind, his hands on her waist.

The man’s laughing blue eyes met Kol’s for a second.

It was Klaus.

The rose crumbled in Kol’s fist.

-

You gasped lightly. “That was Taya, your teacher. The one you had a crush on. Klaus was…”

“Klaus was fucking her,” Kol said darkly. He sat on the forest floor, crushing a pebble in his fist.“A few months after that, she disappeared, like all of Klaus’s girlfriends. The bastard killed her.”

You held Kol’s hand. “I'm so sorry,” you said, gazing up at him. “You loved her.”

“I think I did,” Kol said. “You know, before Taya died, I was a nice guy. Worthy of a good girl like you,” he said, smirking. “But that night, I decided to stop loving people so easily. Trusting them.” He thumped his chest. “Enter Kol Mikaelson, world-class arsehole.”

“You're not an-” you started. You smiled. “Okay, you are an asshole. But you're not… a bad person.”

Kol placed your hand on his cheek. His chestnut eyes held yours. “You're not like me, Davina. You're good; you're beautiful. And Klaus hates things which are good and beautiful. You can't make a deal with him. He’ll destroy you.”

You stepped away from him.

“I'm sorry, Kol,” you said quietly, tears welling in your eyes. “I really liked you.”

Then, your face hardened into a mask of fury.

“Klaus Mikaelson!” you yelled, running towards the Mikaelson house. “I have your little brother’s heart. Give me the white oak stake or he'll be dead by the time I count to ten…”

Kol pounded a tree trunk with his fist in anger, again and again, until the wood crumbled under his fingers.

He had trusted you. He had let you in. And you had used him.

Kol was lying in his bed in the Mikaelson house that night, when he heard a quiet “Ow.”

How was he such a trusting idiot, despite being hurt a thousand times?

-

He laughed, sitting up. Your head was stuck halfway inside his bedroom window.

“Help me,” you said. “My hair’s stuck.”

“Hurts, doesn't it?” Kol said, massaging his head. “Having your hair nearly yanked off.”

“Let me in,” you repeated, your voice breaking. “I'm here to rescue you. And this hurts like a bitch.”

“Who taught you that word, little girl?” Kol said in mock horror. “Wash that pretty mouth of yours out with soap.”

But he gently untangled your hair and gave you his hand to climb inside.

You sat down on the bed. Kol flung himself into an armchair in the corner of his room, his bejewelled finger tapping the arm. His head lolled back on the seat.

“Where did you get that pose from? GQ?” you said, laughing into your hand.

Kol got up and sat quietly down next to you, his ears burning. “Shouldn't you be more sorry or something?” he said. “You did try to sell my body today.”

You looked down. “I am sorry. I was going to leave you with Klaus, but then I thought about your story, and… I felt bad.”

Kol lightly brushed your hair behind your ear. “Is that the only reason you came back, then? You felt guilty?”

You met Kol’s eyes. You looked perfectly serious in the way only young people can. “No. I felt… a lot of things.” You looked down. “But I can't like you that way, Kol. When I like boys that way, people get hurt.”

“I know,” Kol said. “That tends to happen to the people I like, too.” His hand nudged yours on the bed, so your little fingers were touching. “I do have a knack for falling for the wrong people, don't I?”

You scoffed. “Are you talking about Taya right now? Because I really don't think bringing up your-”

Kol silenced you with a kiss. He was surprised at how good a kisser you were. Your body melted against his without shyness. You wrapped your arms over his shoulders, pulling him closer. For a second, he was jealous of the boys who had kissed you before him.

“You're a good kisser. Should I be worried?” Kol said. He twirled a strand of your hair around his finger, possessively.

“You're a bad kisser. Should I be worried?” you said.

“Hey!” Kol said. “I have a thousand years’ experience…princess.”

“Yeesh,” you said. “You must not have done a lot of kissing in the last thousand years.”

Kol laughed. This was probably a bad decision, but it didn't feel that way.

It felt like hope.

​—

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