#she is about to come down on you with the force of a thousand suns and the rage of a teenage girl

[better-setterv2]

Hey, I don’t know if your requests are open, but I was wondering if you could write a story about Lewis and tennis player Reader. Like she is nr. 1 in the world, and they celebrate her win of another tournament? (if you want it can include smut, but it doesn’t have to). Thanks❤️

𝑀𝒶𝓉𝒸𝒽 𝒫𝑜𝒾𝓃𝓉

Authors Note: Hi lovelies! I absolutely loved writing this one-shot. I hope the person that requested it enjoys! Lots of love xx

Summary: After winning the Australian Open, the world’s top tennis player is surprised by her secret boyfriend Lewis Hamilton in the crowd, leading to a night of passion, public pride, and the start of their shared spotlight.

Warnings: sexual content, mild swearing

Taglist: @hannibeeblog @nebulastarr

MASTERLIST

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

The stadium buzzed like electricity under your skin.

Rod Laver Arena was a cathedral of sport tonight, packed to capacity with tens of thousands of fans and millions more watching around the world.

A hot summer wind whispered through the open roof. The air was heavy with tension, expectation and the kind of energy that could crack lightning across the Melbourne sky.

You rolled your shoulders back and steadied your breath, standing behind the baseline with the weight of a country or more on your back.

Sweat traced a slow path between your shoulder blades beneath your violet and black Nike kit, damp strands of hair sticking to your temples beneath your hat visor.

You raised your arm patting your damp face with your wrist band, breathing heavily.

6-5 in the third set tiebreak.

Match point.

The final point of the Australian Open women’s final.

You could hear your heart pounding in your ears. Somewhere in the crowd, people were chanting your name. Others followed. Then the whole arena surged into a chant. You closed your eyes and let the sound lift you.

Focus. Breathe. Trust your body.

Across the net, Aryna Sabalenka stared you down like the warrior she was. Her chest rose and fell with exertion, her neon pink dress soaked through with effort. You had battled her for nearly three hours under the Australian sun, each set a war of wills, but you were here now. One point away.

The chair umpire called, “Time.”

You bounced the ball three times.

Tossed it into the air.

And served.

The ball cut through the air with slicing pace and landed near the sideline, forcing Aryna wide. Her return was fast but shallow.

Your instincts took over. One step in. Racket low. Forehand. Deep into the opposite corner.

She chased it.

Desperate.

Her feet scrambled across the court.

She reached. Swung.

But the ball clipped the net cord and died.

Gasps. Then silence.

And then - chaos.

The crowd erupted in a wall of sound.

You dropped your racquet and fell to your knees. Your hands flew to your face as tears pooled in your eyes.

You had done it.

You were the Australian Open champion.

Your team rushed onto the court - your coach, your physio, your hitting partner.

You embraced each of them as flashes exploded from every direction. You barely heard the interviewer’s first question as you blinked up at the stands, overwhelmed.

You scanned the VIP box instinctively. But he wasn’t supposed to be here. He was overseas getting prepared for the race season coming up and with himself starting at Ferrari.

You shook the thought from your head and waved at the crowd, lifting your arms, heart pounding with adrenaline and disbelief.

“I’m just, I don’t even have the words,” you choked out in the interview, wiping tears from your cheeks. “This one means the world. I’ve worked my entire life for this moment. Winning the Australian Open has always been my dream. Even though I am number one in the world already, this has been a massive achievement."

And you had. From a tiny court in your hometown, all the way to world No. 1.

The trophy ceremony began and you stood beneath the bright lights of Rod Laver Arena, clutching the silver Daphne Akhurst Memorial Cup like it was a lifeline. You thanked your team, your family, your fans.

And then came the camera lens.

The moment every player dreams of.

A black marker was passed to you. You knelt before the lens and grinned.

You signed your name with a flourish and, below it, wrote -

"For every girl who was told she couldn’t."

And then, in smaller letters, only visible to the few who’d pause to read it -

"For him."

You smiled.

Because even if Lewis wasn’t here, he would see it.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

The celebration was still roaring behind you as you disappeared into the tunnel beneath Rod Laver Arena. Your legs felt like jelly not just from the match, but from the weight of it all. The cameras, the spotlight, the ceremony. It was over. And you’d won.

You clutched the trophy tightly to your chest like it might float away if you didn’t hold on.

A member of the WTA staff guided you through the winding halls of the stadium, offering congratulations and asking if you needed water or food. You nodded absently, still high on adrenaline.

Your team peeled off toward the press room, but your agent lingered behind, eyes twinkling.

“There’s…someone waiting in your private suite,” she said, tone casual.

You turned, puzzled. “Media?”

She shook her head with a sly grin. “Just go see.”

You padded down the hall, your tennis shoes squeaking faintly against the polished floor.

You opened the door.

And stopped.

Lewis was there.

Leaning against the windowsill of your private lounge, hands in the pockets of his charcoal Ferrari hoodie, cap pulled low over his face. But that smile - that unmistakable, heart melting smile lit up the room before he even moved.

Your mouth fell open. “You’re - what - Lewis?”

He stood up straight and took a step forward, his voice low and warm.

“Didn’t think I’d let you win your first Aussie Open without me here, did you?”

You were already in motion.

You ran into him, arms flying around his neck, trophy clattering to the carpet as he caught you. You buried your face in his hoodie and suddenly all the tears you’d held in during the trophy ceremony came crashing down.

“You lied to me,” you whispered, voice breaking. “You said you had meetings. You said you couldn’t -”

“I had to,” he murmured against your hair. “You wouldn’t have focused if you knew I was watching.”

You pulled back to look at him, tears streaking your cheeks. “You watched the whole thing?”

He brushed your hair away from your face. “From the third row. You were unbelievable. I’ve never seen anyone move like that. Every time you hit the ball, the whole arena held its breath.”

You laughed through your tears and lightly hit his chest. “You asshole.”

“I know,” he grinned, then kissed you deeply. “But I’m your asshole.”

You melted into him. His cologne - the earthy, clean smell that always lingered in your pillows when he left hit you full force. He kissed you again, slower this time, cupping your face with reverent hands.

“You’re everything, you know that?” he whispered. “Everything.”

You laughed softly, your forehead resting against his. “You coming back to Melbourne just to see me win is already the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

He pulled back just enough to lock eyes with you. “I didn’t just come to watch you win.”

His hands slid to your waist. “I came to remind you what happens when you do.”

The door to your suite clicked shut and locked behind you.

Lewis didn’t say a word as he backed you toward the plush couch by the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Melbourne skyline. The city lights twinkled outside, a mirror of the stars in your eyes as he traced his fingers along your jawline.

“You’re still shaking,” he whispered, thumb brushing your cheek.

“Adrenaline,” you said, breath hitching as his hands slid down your waist. “And maybe because you just showed up like a damn movie ending.”

He smiled. “Couldn’t miss my girl’s greatest win.”

His girl.

The words settled into your chest like a promise. You tugged his hoodie upward, fingertips brushing the hem of his shirt.

“Take it off,” you breathed.

He did slowly, deliberately revealing the tattoos you knew by heart - the compass on his chest, the script over his collarbone, the lion on his pec. Every line, every shadow, made you ache for him more.

You pulled your visor off, then the damp tank top, leaving you in your sports bra and skirt. Lewis’s eyes flicked down your body with heat and reverence, as if you were the trophy tonight.

“You looked like a goddess out there,” he murmured, stepping closer, hand skating over your exposed stomach. “I nearly lost it when you signed that lens. It reminded me of when I first did it in F1."

Your voice softened. “I signed it for you.”

He paused. His thumb rested above your navel.

“I saw it,” he whispered, suddenly serious. “I saw every word.”

And then his lips were on yours again this time firmer, more desperate now. The kiss deepened quickly, mouths open, breaths mingling as his hands tangled in your hair. He backed you against the couch and gently pushed you down, climbing over you like he’d waited all season to have this moment.

His body hovered above yours, eyes dark with desire.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he said, voice low.

You shook your head. “Don’t stop.”

Your skirt slipped down your hips, tossed somewhere near your trophy.

He kissed every inch of your inner thigh before his mouth reached the core of you, tongue warm and slow and purposeful. You gasped, your hand flying to his braids as he worked you open with lips and fingers, coaxing pleasure with the same focus you brought to center court.

When you came, you cried out his name, shaking, legs locked around his shoulders. He looked up at you, smug and tender.

“Still shaking?” he asked.

You were breathless. “For a whole different reason.”

He stood, unzipping his pants and you watched with hungry eyes as he slid them off along with his boxers. His body was beautiful, lean, carved, all heat and control. He kneeled between your legs, running his hands along your thighs again, patient, reverent.

“You’re sure?” he asked again, voice husky.

You reached for him, pulled him down until his forehead touched yours.

“Make me forget the world,” you whispered.

And he did.

He entered you slowly, both of you groaning at the perfect, familiar stretch.

You clung to him, your hands on his back, nails dragging over skin as he moved. He kissed your collarbone, your jaw, your lips between every thrust, whispering how proud he was, how beautiful you were, how no one in the world compared.

The rhythm built, his hips moving against yours in smooth, rolling waves. Each movement echoed with tension and devotion, like he needed to be closer, deeper, inside your very bones.

“I love you,” he murmured into your mouth as you began to fall apart again.

"I love you too." You moaned back throwing your head back.

You came with a sharp gasp, trembling beneath him. He followed soon after, groaning as he buried himself to the hilt and spilled into you, holding your face like he never wanted to let go.

When it was over, he collapsed beside you on the couch, both of you sticky and glowing with sweat, your skin still buzzing from the high.

Wrapped in one of the soft robes, you stood by the window a little while later, watching Melbourne glitter beneath you. Lewis came up behind you, arms slipping around your waist.

“Tomorrow, they’ll talk about your forehand,” he murmured. “Your stats. Your legacy.”

You smiled. “And tonight?”

He kissed your neck. “Tonight, you’re just mine.”

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

The morning after your victory arrived like a dream you never wanted to end.

Melbourne was still glowing from the night before. Headlines flooded your phone -

"World No. 1 Reigns in Melbourne"

"The Queen of Tennis Conquers Australia"

"Crossover Power Couple? Fans Think Lewis Hamilton Was in the Crowd!"

You sat at the edge of your hotel bed, wearing nothing but Lewis’s white t-shirt and your gold WTA bracelet. The trophy was beside you, glinting in the early light. Lewis was still asleep, one arm draped over his eyes, the other stretched toward the spot where you’d been curled into him all night.

Your phone vibrated again.

A message from your agent -

“Press conference in an hour. Wear something killer. You’re the moment.”

You smiled.

In the bathroom, you applied your makeup carefully, chose a sleek white pantsuit that hugged your body and made you look as powerful as you felt. When you stepped back into the bedroom, Lewis had one eye cracked open and a crooked smile on his lips.

“You trying to kill me this early?” he said, voice still scratchy from sleep.

“You coming with me?” you asked, walking over and sliding onto the bed beside him.

He reached for your hand. “If you want me there.”

“I want them to see.”

His brow lifted slightly. “All of them?”

You kissed his shoulder. “You were there for every part of this win. It’s time they know.”

The press conference was already crowded by the time you stepped inside. Cameras flashed, journalists whispered and jostled. But the moment Lewis entered behind you, hand on your back, a hush rippled through the room like a wave.

You smiled graciously, taking your seat at the table with your nameplate and the trophy in front of you.

Lewis stood to the side, watching, his presence magnetic. He wore a tailored black suit with no tie, his braids pulled back, sunglasses tucked into his collar. Every part of him screamed quiet support and pride.

A reporter raised her hand.

“First off, congratulations! You made history last night. But I have to ask there’s been a lot of speculation online. Can you confirm that Lewis Hamilton was in the stands during your final?”

You didn’t hesitate.

“I can confirm he was,” you said, smile widening. “He flew in to surprise me. And yes, we’re together.”

The room exploded in flashes and soft gasps.

Lewis simply nodded once, cool and steady, as if he’d been by your side all along. In truth, he had ways just been in the background. Until now.

The moment you stepped off the podium, he was waiting for you.

“That was brave,” he said, fingers brushing yours.

“That was honest,” you corrected. “I don’t want to hide anymore.”

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “Then let’s show them how a real team celebrates.”

Later that night, you curled up with Lewis on the hotel bed, doom scrolling through social media as he laughed beside you.

@WTAfanatic: “LEWIS HAMILTON AND [Y/N]?! I THOUGHT I WAS READY BUT I WASN’T.”

@GOATandGOAT: “Their baby’s gonna have a 200 mph serve and a carbon fiber stroller.”

@F1updates: “Hamilton’s biggest win this year might not be on the track.”

“I can’t believe how loud the internet is being,” you muttered, cheeks burning with joy.

Lewis took your phone and tossed it gently onto the other pillow.

“Let them scream,” he whispered, pulling you into his arms. “We’ve got our own world.”

The chaos quieted by evening.

Your eyes caught the last of the golden sunset spilling through the windows. You stood on the balcony in one of Lewis’s oversized tees, sipping champagne from the bottle as the breeze tugged at your hair. Below, Melbourne buzzed softly with nightlife and celebration but up here, it was just peace.

Behind you, Lewis stepped out, freshly showered, his chain glinting in the dying light. He wrapped his arms around you from behind and kissed the top of your head.

“Proud of you doesn’t even cover it,” he murmured into your neck.

“I feel like I’m still floating,” you whispered, leaning back into him. “Like it didn’t happen.”

He turned you gently to face him. “You’re not dreaming. You earned every second of it. And I was lucky enough to watch you do it.”

You reached for his hand, running your thumb over the knuckles. “I used to think winning was everything. Like if I had the title, the ranking, the trophy it from every tournament would finally feel like enough.”

“And now?”

You looked up at him, eyes soft.

“Now I think the best part is who I got to share it with.”

His smile was warm. He leaned in and kissed you, slow and unhurried. Not a kiss of celebration, or of lust but of something deeper. Of foundation. Of future.

As the sky turned lavender and the first stars appeared, you both stood there in silence, the city beneath your feet and the whole world stretched ahead of you.

And for once, you didn’t feel like you were chasing anything.

You’d already won.

[howoffcentre]

POV: You're fucked

[andypantsx3]

FILLING IN | BAKUGOU x READER ˖˚˳⊹

summary: A production assistant for an erotic arts studio, you think you've seen every ridiculous plot line under the sun. But not even porn tropes can compare to the absurd reality you find yourself in when the on-screen talent drops out, and you're asked to fill in opposite the studio's number one star Bakugou Katsuki.  contents: The classic oh-no-the-porn-talent-has-gone-missing-let's-sub-a-rando-in trope, no quirks au, pornstar Bakugou, soft dom Bakugou, gn + afab reader, unrequited-requited crush, slight bondage, descriptions of afab genitalia, nipple sucking, cunnilingus, piv sex, pet names used: angel and sweetheart, porn with surprise feelings, 18+, 8.2k words notes: This is my Bakugou x Reader commitment for @ficsforgaza, and I am sorry it is late enough to also count for Valentine's Day (but also Happy Valentine's Day!!) Additionally, a special thank you to my angel princess @ofmermaidstories for handing me the nerd + pornstar combo when I was worried about Bakugou's characterization. I think this is the only way I could have ever written a pornstar Bakugou that felt right to me. Love you, Mermie.

The studio was churning in chaos by the time you arrived.

The first sign that things weren’t right was Komori, one of your fellow production assistants, propped against the wall outside. Her cellphone was pressed against her ear, and she looked nervous, her foot tapping a thousand miles a minute. She had a thumbnail pressed to her mouth and was chewing steadily through the nail like a rabbit through a lettuce leaf.

You didn’t want to disturb her, so you buzzed inside the studio, only to find the hallways filled with an equally nervous energy. Yaoyorozu, one of the production managers, hovered in the doorway of a dressing room. She looked to be arguing with someone, her normally sweet expression pinched in profile. A small circle of people took up the hallway behind her, shifting apprehensively.

A shrill voice filtered out of the dressing room as you tried to wedge yourself by. “I said I’m not doing it. We’re getting married and we agreed I wouldn’t do this anymore.”

“Bibimi—” Yaoyorozu started.

“Effective immediately. Find someone else,” Bibimi’s voice replied.

You stopped in your tracks, blinking as you turned back to the doorway, peering over Sato’s shoulder.

Bibimi Kenranzaki was one of the studio’s top actresses, the very performer scheduled to shoot the production you were working on this afternoon. The shoot was a Valentine’s Day special, and had already been delayed at Bibimi’s request several times. If you’d understood Yaoyorozu’s previous concerns correctly, today was the last possible day to shoot it with enough time for it to make it through editing to post on Valentine’s.

This was not good.

“Bibimi, of course we would never force you to do something you did not consent to,” Yaoyorozu said patiently. “But you can see how having delayed this shoot many times already puts us in danger of not delivering on our commitments.”

You heard a dismissive snort issue from the room, and peered over one of Yaoyorozu’s slender shoulders. Bibimi lounged across one of the waiting room couches, arms crossed over her chest. An enormous diamond ring you’d never seen before glinted from one of her fingers, clearly the source of today’s change of heart.

Oh, production was not going to be happy.

You winced as you ducked out from behind Yaoyorozu, heading back down the hall to stuff your things into one of the vacant lockers. It was a struggle to fit everything in as today you’d come directly from a lecture—two textbooks the size and weight of cinderblocks choking up all the space in your bag. You would have thought that, considering that a wide swath of the production staff were college students—including several of the performers themselves—the studio would have had a better set up. But it was often a fight to the death to even find an open locker amongst the many other bookbags, and an equally Sisyphean struggle to get the door shut on the tiny cubbies.

Once you finally managed to finagle the door shut on your backpack, you made a beeline for the supply room. Typically, your first task of any shoot was acquisition of about a million pounds of baby wipes and lube, though you wondered if they would be needed today, given the scene with Bibimi you’d just witnessed.

You checked the film schedule posted in the staff entry to find the allotted set room. Then you made your way down the twisting maze halls carpeted with ancient olefin to the set for You Cumplete Me, the obnoxious working title Kaminari had come up with for this particular Valentine’s Day project.

The room was set up like some generic apartment, a large bed with a wire-framed headboard dominating the majority of the space. A cherry wood nightstand cluttered with fake knick knacks stood diligently at the bedside, and two fake windows with their curtains drawn shut overlooked the whole affair, red dressings fluttering slightly in the breeze from a fan.

Most of the production staff was already inside the room, the cameramen and director huddled together in the corner, whispering nervously. You spotted Mina, the wardrobe coordinator and makeup artist, fussing with her phone in the other corner, her various products and brushes spread out across a plastic folding table, looking put out.

“You know if we’re going to be able to sub anyone in for Bibimi?” you asked as you approached her, flopping down in one of the chairs set up at her makeshift dressing table. You arrayed your armful of lube and plastic packs of wipes at the corner so as not to disturb her arrangement.

Mina’s eyes flicked up to yours and she grinned, the upturn of her mouth accented with perfectly-applied hot pink lipstick.

“Komori’s called like ten other actresses so far and can’t get anyone,” Mina answered. “And Shiozaki and Kendo are in-studio but both just got off another shoot so we contractually can’t use them. I think Yaomomo is ready to start shaking people down.”

You winced. Yaoyorozu never lost her cool, but the pressure must be mounting. You knew marketing materials had already been put out on the studio’s website, specifically promising the return of the studio’s highest-grossing star—Bakugou Katsuki—opposite Bibimi.

While Bibimi might be the highest paid actress, Bakugou was the real draw of UA Productions. UA churned out projects that were largely targeted towards less traditional markets—largely women—porn that was often of higher production value, higher quality scripting, and careful coordination showcasing enthusiasm and consent. It also subsequently employed more than its fair share of beautiful men.

And Bakugou Katsuki crowned that pile of performers. Though foul-mouthed and often irascible, he was undeniably breathtaking to behold, both on screen and in person. He was the typical blend of tall, strong, and well-muscled that most UA actors were. But he moved with a singular precision and intention that drove fans wild, and came equipped with bed-rumpled blond hair, mile-long lashes, a surly, pouty mouth, and a facial symmetry that Euclid himself would have wept over.

He was also nearing the end of his doctoral and would not be filming for much longer, you were given to understand. So the studio stood to lose a significant amount of audience trust and money, should this production fall through.

As if on cue, Bakugou Katsuki himself stomped through the doorway. The expression on his face told you he was already well-aware of what was happening with Bibimi, and he was getting annoyed with the hold up. He set a direct line for you and Mina, mouth twisted in dissatisfaction.

Your ears promptly went hot, the way they always did when Bakugou was in your line of vision.

You’d unfortunately had something of a crush on him from the minute you’d become a production assistant at UA, your third year of college. Funds were tight and your masters program loomed large in front of you, its meager stipend like a slap in the face. You’d needed something else flexible, and you’d found UA through the friend of a friend—its proximity to the university, and ever changing schedule of ongoing productions offering the perfect amount of flexibility for your situation.

Bakugou had been there that first day as Yaoyorozu gave you the tour, too. He’d been tucked up on the couch of the waiting room as you passed through, blonde hair rumpled, someone’s lip gloss still smeared at the corner of his jaw. He looked like a soft, relaxed mess—clothes askew like he’d pulled them back on after a shoot and immediately migrated to the couch—though his scarlet eyes tracked intently across the page of an enormous engineering text spread across his thighs. His long fingers twirled a pen absently, tapping against a notebook peeking out from just under the textbook, headphones jammed over his ears.

He did not look up as you made your way inside, but your stomach had flared to life with a sudden flutter of butterflies. You were startled by the pretty set of his mouth, the long lashes that swept over his cheeks as he read, the flex of those long, beautiful fingers on his pen. You had never seen a person so perfect in real life, and the effect was dumbing.

“That’s Bakugou, one of our performers,” Yaoyorozu had told you, leading you through the room. She did not stop to introduce you. “He’s working on a PhD in chemical engineering, and performs once every couple of months for us. He’s—erm—not quite friendly, so we’ll skip the introduction today.”

You’d followed her, nodding obediently, leaving Bakugou behind. You’d dutifully concluded your tour and signed all the paperwork, and met several other members of the staff. It was only when you’d been released from your onboarding obligations that you saw Bakugou again, as you ran out into the parking lot to start your car.

It was raining out, a torrential downpour much worse than when you’d arrived that came down in thick, pelting sheets. Visibility was bad enough that you almost missed the tuft of blonde hair across the parking lot, ducking under the awning of the nearby bus stop.

You knew the route headed back towards your university, and subsequently your apartment, and it dawned on you that Bakugou’s would most likely be attaining his cited PhD at your same college. You felt your mouth twist, impressed. PhD tracks were notoriously difficult to attain at Musutafu University—no wonder Bakugou needed a job that was, for lack of better phrasing, quick and dirty. He probably was drowning in post-grad labs and dissertation materials.

The memory of those long fingers tapping at the edge of his text suddenly flickered again in your brain, and something possessed you as you started up your engine. Before you knew what you were doing, you had pulled your car around into the bus stop bay, leaning out to call out to him.

“Hey—Bakugou, right?” you said, watching as scarlet eyes found yours, narrowing suspiciously. His pretty mouth lifted in an immediate, reflexive snarl, and those broad shoulders squared off, like he was getting ready for trouble.

You cut in, quickly explaining yourself when you realized he had no context for the rando hanging out of their car window at him. “I’m Yaoyorozu’s new production staff. Just joined today. Are you headed towards Musutafu U and do you want a ride?”

A blonde eyebrow lifted. “You’re with UA?” he asked. His voice was a kind of low growl, not unlike the thunder suddenly echoing overhead, and the sound shot through you like a bolt of lightning.

“I—yeah. Just signed the paperwork this afternoon.”

Several spatters of rain dampened your cheeks where you had your head poked out of the window, and Bakugou’s eyes tracked them closely as he leaned in. “Then let’s get one thing straight right off the bat—I don’t fuck coworkers off the clock.”

You recoiled, horrified at the conclusion he’d immediately brought himself to. “No! That’s not what I—I didn’t mean like—! I just thought because it’s raining out, you might want—”

“I want you to fuck right off, is what I want,” Bakugou said, crossing his arms over his chest. He made a show of leaning back against the glass wall of the bus stop, its interior papered over with moldering ads. It was a clear dismissal.

You blinked at him stupidly for a moment, mind reeling that your gesture had been received so poorly. But then you realized he hadn’t seen you, in your trek through the staff room during your afternoon tour. You’d only just seen him, and you hadn’t spoken to him besides. Despite your immediate interest in and respect for him, he knew nothing about you.

And he was a pornstar, come to think of it. He probably had had a fair number of creeps proposition him out of the blue. Enough that he was suspicious now, as you might have been, were you in his position.

Your cheeks heated, suddenly ashamed. You nodded, gritting your teeth as you ducked back inside your car.

“Right, fucking off, as requested,” you said, turning your blinker on to move back out into the road. “Sorry to scare you. See you, um—see you at work sometime.”

“Oi—I ain’t fuckin’ scared,” you heard him growl, but then you were turning back out into the street. You rolled your window back up as you sped up, resisting the urge to look back at Bakugou in the rearview.

What a humiliating first impression that had been.

You'd fretted about it for another week before your first official day at UA, and for several weeks more when you didn’t immediately run into Bakugou. When you’d finally met him properly, however, Bakugou acted like he’d never even seen you before in his life, and you somewhat gratefully followed his lead. He treated you like anyone else, with the same kind of universal severity he turned on the other production staff. You discovered very quickly that he was impatient, brusque, no-nonsense. He stalked onto every set with all the latent energy of a nuclear missile strike, and never softened until after the shoot was over.

His general attitude, and your humiliating first encounter should have been enough to turn you off of him. But the occasional glimpse of him after a shoot—rumpled, relaxed, open in a way he normally wasn’t, in the way that you'd first seen him—was unfortunately enough to keep those initial butterflies aflutter.

The fact that he was smart—and annoyingly adept in the bedroom, considering the number of reshoots his costars often needed after they accidently came too early—did not help matters.

“Where the fuck is Yaoyorozu?” he demanded of you and Mina, as he approached you in the set room now.

You met his scarlet gaze, holding very still under his regard.

“She was negotiating with Bibimi just now when I came in,” you told him, cheeks heating as his eyes flicked over you. He had a very direct way of evaluating people, and rarely missed a detail. You hoped your makeup wasn’t smudged from where you’d had your head propped up in your hand, valiantly resisting falling asleep in your earlier lecture.

“Bibimi’s a waste of fuckin’ time,” Bakugou growled.

You rolled your eyes. He couldn’t very well act opposite his own hand, so someone was going to have to fill in.

“Well Mina says we’re not having luck finding anyone else either so Bibimi is your best bet,” you told him.

Bakugou looked down his perfect nose at you. “Anyone in this damn studio could do better than she does.”

You felt your eyebrows raise. Bibimi was popular with a variety of audiences for her exaggeratedly dollish features—you doubted just anyone could fill in for her and look as good. You said as much to Bakugou, and he scoffed.

“‘S not about looking good, it’s about showing that you’re feeling good,” he said plainly, igniting a wave of fire across your cheeks. The flames worsened when he crossed his arms over his chest and you had occasion to notice he was in nothing but a workout tank, his bare biceps flexing enticingly in the studio lighting.

You were thankfully spared from having to form a coherent response by Yaoyorozu stepping into the room. She was tailed by Komori, and wore a troubled expression. She waved an elegant hand that encompassed both your camp in the corner and the directors on the other side of the room.

“Bibimi is unfortunately out. And we cannot use Shiozaki or Kendo. I am afraid we may have to call off the shoot this afternoon,” she said.

“So get someone else in,” Bakugou said, with his usual brisk directness. He turned to face her. You caught the whiff of something light and clean on him as he did so, laundry detergent and recently-applied shampoo.

Yaoyorozu fixed him with an expectant look. “We’ve unfortunately worked our way through the roster of available performers. Unless you know someone else?”

Bakugou stared back at her evenly, arching a blonde brow. “There’re a bunch of extras already here, aren’t there?”

A little shock went through you. Extras. As in the…people in the room right now? Did he really mean the production staff?

Yaoyorozu blinked, apparently taken aback. Then her gaze slid thoughtfully between Komori, Mina, and you. Another little thrill raced through you, like you’d suddenly missed a step. Surely they both could not actually be considering that.

“I’m a hoe but I’m a loyal hoe,” Mina said from next to you, immediately putting up a rosy palm. “Eiji is my one and only, sorry babes.”

Yaoyorozu nodded. “Of course, I would not expect you to violate any commitments you already had to a significant other.”

“I am also seeing someone,” Komori volunteered, a shy little blush sweeping across her cheeks. You smiled a bit at her obvious regard for whoever it was—until you sensed a dozen pairs of eyes suddenly turning to you.

Your stomach dropped—less of a missed step then and more of a sudden push off a cliff.

Worst of all was the pair of scarlet eyes suddenly burning with undue regard in your direction. You stared straight at Yaoyorozu, unable to meet Bakugou’s gaze. You still felt like you might burn up under his scrutiny, like an ant under a magnifying glass.

“I—uh—” you said dumbly, floundering for the right set of words to explain yourself. “Uhh.”

“You seeing anybody?” Bakugou prodded, prompting a fresh wave of heat to your cheeks.

“Well—no—”

“You clean?” he asked.

Your face burned hotter. “Yes, if you must know—-but uh—”

“Then what?” he prompted.

“Is it that easy for you? To just switch partners like that?” you asked. You weren’t exactly a blushing virgin but you still had only slept with partners you had cared for. Bakugou had worked with you for years and never signaled anything beyond dismissal and semi-professionalism—so it wasn’t like he had that same level of interest in you, despite your enormous crush on him. How could he just switch, just like that?

Bakugou uncrossed his arms to settle his hands on slim hips instead, and he gave you another evaluating once over. “Something the matter with you?” he asked. You noticed he did not ask if you thought something was the matter with him. You wondered if your crush on him was that apparent.

“No,” you said defensively. “Just—I don’t know that I’d be any good on camera.”

“You’ve been in videos before,” Mina pointed out, tugging playfully on your belt loop. “You were in Bibimi’s Christmas special a couple years ago.”

“That was different,” you said, staring at her. “I was her evil coworker who sent her running into Tetsutetsu’s muscular arms. I didn’t have to get naked.”

“We can give you time to get prepared,” Yaoyorozu promised kindly. “If you wanted to um, clean up or trim—”

“It’s not that!” you said quickly, waving your arms. Your ears burned. “I just mean I would be shy.”

Bakugou watched you silently for another long moment, his full mouth pursed in thought. His gaze dragged down your body and then back up to your face, and you felt it like a physical touch.

“Then if you forgot you were on camera?” he asked, a rasp in his tone.

You blinked at him dumbly. “If I—forgot?”

“If I made you forget,” he said, flashing a sharp smirk. The arrogance looked so good on him, zinging through your veins like an electric current. Your cheeks and ears flared even hotter, until you thought you might actually be emitting smoke from them.

You tried to form words but seemed to have trouble shaping the proper ones with your tongue, making a series of choking noises before you managed. “There is no way you could—you’re not that good.”

Something hot flared to life behind Bakugou’s eyes, and his smirk curled even sharper. “We’ll see about that.”

“What if Bakugou helps you get over your nerves, and we just try it and see how you do.” Yaoyorozu prompted gently. “Is that something you would be willing to do? Of course we won’t pressure you.”

Your gaze jerked back to her as you startled. For just a second you’d sort of forgotten there was anyone in the room but Bakugou.

“I sort of doubt—but if you really need—I mean I could—try…” you fumbled out.

Yaoyorozu nodded gratefully, looking pleased again. “Alright, then let’s at least try it. Mina please find proper costuming and help get Y/N ready. I will draw up a short contract with the same terms we promise all our on camera talent for you to look over when you’re done.”

You nodded, a little dazed. Had you really just agreed to—?

But then Mina was laughing, grabbing you by the elbow and drawing you out of the room. She marched you towards the back of the studio building where she’d amassed a respectable wardrobe, racks upon racks of clothes. “Alright, this is going to be so fun! I love dressing new talent! It’s always fun to work out what’s going to work with your coloring and style on screen.”

The mention of you doing anything on screen had all the blood draining from your veins, but Mina didn’t seem to mind. She kept up a stream of happy, easy chatter as she pecked around in the racks like a chicken hunting a grasshopper. Eventually she emerged with a robe in a deep pink, slippery and silky and glistening faintly under the overheads.

“Okay so you’re supposed to be a loving couple celebrating your anniversary and looking for ways to spice things up,” she said. “So you’ll be waiting for him to come home, looking delicious in this little slip of a thing. He can unwrap you like a V-Day present!”

Her callback to the plot of the shoot suddenly made you realize there were way more things involved in the project than just being pawed at on screen—and you did not know any of Bibimi’s lines. How the hell were you supposed to deliver any kind of performance?

“Don’t worry about it, I assure you the gears are already churning in Momo’s big brain,” Mina said when you asked as much. She peeled you out of your sweater and jeans, and ushered you into the robe. Cheeks burning, you let her look you over to make sure you were properly groomed for the camera.

Then before you could get cold feet, she bundled you up and shepherded you back into the set room and set to work on you with her various pots of paint and ointments. She worked a couple things into your hair, applied something glossy and sticky to your mouth, and adjusted the fit of your robe to her liking until she pronounced you ready.

Yaoyorozu was already leaning over you by the time Mina released you, laying out a packet of sheets in front of you. She detailed the terms to you in the professional, clipped tone you’d heard her conduct business in before, and soon enough you were penning in your own name in a shaky hand. The strokes looked almost foreign on the page, and you felt a little more than lightheaded thinking about what you’d just signed yourself into.

“So—what am I supposed to do about Bibimi’s lines?” you asked, your voice coming out kind of dry and crackly.

“We’re going to improvise,” Yaoyorozu said. “Bakugou will guide you. Try to respond as best you can to what he says, along the framework of being a couple celebrating their anniversary. It’s most important to capture your intimacy, however, so we can always come back and reshoot any dialog as needed after. You can call him Katsuki, there are no aliases for this shoot.”

You nodded, feeling even more nervous now that all the prerequisites had been completed.

That left Komori waiting for you. She was apparently assuming the duties you’d abandoned by becoming the star of this absurd alternate dimension. She led you over to what had been meant to be Bibimi’s starting mark on the bed and helped you spread your pink robe out enticingly. You almost laughed as you helped her, feeling foolish and distinctly unsexy for the deliberateness of it all.

There was nothing less romantic than half a dozen other people in the room with you, cameras and hot lights trained on you like you were an escaped convict under a helicopter floodlight. You got the impression that it was going to be a monumental task to work up the nerve to even loosen the tie on your robe, nevermind remove it.

Except then Bakugou walked in.

He’d changed, sometime in the half hour or so Mina had had you in her clutches. He prowled into the room in a dark charcoal suit, the consummate businessman home from his generic businessman job.

He looked unfairly good in it too—the close cut of it highlighted how his broad shoulders slashed inwards into a trim waist, and his pants showcased the flex of a strong, hard thigh. He’d acquired a chunky wristwatch in a dark metal, and it glinted dully under the overhead lights.

He looked sleek and dangerous, even though you’d just seen him stomping around in sweatpants not thirty minutes prior. You felt your breath escape you in a whoosh, your heartbeat kicking up as he prowled closer.

“I’m home, angel,” he said, a smoky rasp curling on the end of his voice. Despite the pet name, he sounded enough like his usual self that you almost answered him in turn.

You vaguely remembered you were obliged to playact with him, and you summoned up your nerve. “Hi, Katsuki,” you said. You hoped your voice did not sound too shaky. “Happy Anniversary.”

Bakugou’s scarlet eyes dipped down to your robe, fastening to the spot where it gaped open suggestively over one thigh. Your skin buzzed like a hive of bees was trapped beneath it.

“This my present?” he asked, stalking closer. He snagged the tie of your robe in his long fingers, toying with it speculatively.

“It should be easy to open,” you joked, then almost cringed.

Sexy. You were supposed to be sexy, not goofy as hell. And what happened when he really did try to open it?

A small amount of panic crept up your spine again, seeping into your veins. You did not feel ready to be naked before all of the eyes in this room, nevermind the roving gaze of the internet. What had you been thinking, signing up for this?

Your hand came up defensively to tug the robe tie back out of Bakugou’s hand, only for it to be captured too. Bakugou tugged you up and to him, and your face broke out in another sweeping wave of flame as you felt the hard planes of him against you. He was so warm, and smelled so good up close and you could not even begin to know what to do or where to put your hands—

Before you could ask him what the heck he was doing, however, he brought your captured hand to his mouth. You almost leapt out of your skin when you felt the gentle press of his lips on the inside of your wrist, the careful flicker of a tongue. Those scarlet eyes slid over you knowingly, near enough that you could see tiny flecks of deep purple in them.

His other hand came up to take your chin, his thumb stroking over the side of your jaw. The feeling made you shiver slightly, and it must have been clearly visible because the corner of Bakugou's mouth lifted into a smirk against your wrist. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, every inch of your skin thrilling with the feeling of your longtime crush doing something this to you.

“Think I’m gonna enjoying opening you alright,” Bakugou intoned.

You struggled to remember what he was talking about, giving up almost immediately as his mouth trailed along the inside of your arm. It traced up and up and up, until he was hovering dangerously close to your face. His fingers tightened on your chin, tilting your face up to his.

And then he bent his head, and crushed his mouth to yours.

Immediately, everything else disappeared.

Kissing Bakugou was three thousand zillion times hotter than you could have ever even imagined. You’d sort of imagined that with an attitude like his, he would be all power and impatience. And the power was there, but leashed, somehow. His mouth was hot and shockingly sweet on yours, and his fingers cupped your face to his, holding you there like he planned to kiss you for hours yet.

Your head was spinning by the time he let your mouth free, and the dip of his blonde lashes as he looked you over was extraordinarily self-satisfied.

His hand on your chin went to your robe instead, pulling the collar wide so that he could lower his mouth inside instead, kissing over your throat. You seized fistfuls of his suit, clinging to him, as he mapped a hot path across your shoulder and collarbone, one of his hands coming up to up your chest.

You heard yourself let out a soft hiss as his thumb pressed over your nipple through the silky fabric. Bakugou sucked a careful bruise into the side of your neck as he did it again, letting out a barely audible snort when you jerked in his hold, unconsciously arching into his hand.

“So sensitive for me, angel,” he drawled as his other hand came up to carefully pinch your other nipple.

You heard yourself make a small, choked off noise like a whine, and you could feel Bakugou’s lips pull into an answering smirk against your throat. You didn’t think you had been quite this responsive to a partner before—but something about the careful, purposeful way he was touching you had your blood running quicker in your veins.

Bakugou’s thumbs traced slow, deliberate circles over your nipples with just the right amount of pressure to make you groan. He teased you again and again as his mouth traced higher on your neck.

Within minutes you were panting, a slow, syrupy pleasure dripping down into your core.

Bakugou tugged your robe wider, then bent his head. You felt the tickle of his hair against your collarbone, softer than you would have thought, as his mouth closed over the point of one nipple. The draw of his mouth had you arching up into him immediately, pleasure zinging through your veins.

“Oh my god,” you said, seizing a fistful of that blonde hair.

Bakugou’s tongue teased at the nipple, and you writhed in his hold. Then he did the same to your other one, and you thought you might die. He hadn’t even touched you yet and you already wanted to crawl out of your skin with impatience.

“Katsuki—please,” you heard yourself say, almost distantly. “Katsuki—oh!”

“Please what, angel?” he said into the skin of your chest, before laying his mouth back over your nipple and giving a sweet suck.

“Oh my god—please!” you said, stupidly. Not an answer to his question but you’d forgotten how to string words together, your brain-to-mouth connection running on autopilot.

“Gonna have to be more specific, sweetheart,” Bakugou said, and you heard the relish in it. Your face burned, and you yanked his hair a little more firmly. He just groaned, and then sucked you a little harder.

“Touch me! Please—Katsuki,” you panted out, hips flexing unconsciously with the pull of your nipple.

“Thought this was my gift, angel. I can’t enjoy it how I want?” he asked.

You considered his words muzzily, having no idea what he was talking about. Gift? What gift was he talking about?

Bakugou’s scarlet eyes flicked up to yours, and something in your expression must have told him you had no idea what he was on about. His mouth pulled up into a self-satisfied grin, and he leaned up to kiss you again.

You flattened yourself out against his chest, all but velcroing yourself to him. You wanted to feel every inch of that hard body against you, wanted to climb as far into him as you could. Something gratifyingly hard pressed against your stomach as you kissed him, and he grunted, locking you to him with a muscled arm across your back.

“Want me to touch you, angel?” he asked.

You nodded. A smile played across his lips.

“Get on the bed for me then, sweetheart.”

It took a minute for you to process but then you were scrambling to obey, scrabbling your way onto the bed, turning and watching as Bakugou stepped nearer.

He shed his jacket as he approached, yanking off his tie too and flinging it somewhere behind him. Then he crawled over you, his fingers seizing the ties of your robe as he did. He pulled it open gently, then yanked a little harder until the silk tie slid free.

His eyes picked over it speculatively, then flashed back up to you. A look of intent interest settled over his features.

“You ever been tied up before, angel?” he asked.

You shook your head, even as it swam with the implication. Your skin prickled, somehow growing even hotter. He didn’t mean to…?

“You gonna let me?” he asked.

You rather thought you would let him do anything he wanted with you. The question was barely out of his mouth before you were nodding hurriedly. A shocked laugh punched out of him, and he gathered up your wrists, scooting you backwards until they pressed against the headboard.

He looped the silk around your wrists, gathering it into a series of complicated knots. He moved with a purpose and precision, his movements sure and practiced. You tested the give of the ties when he sat back on his haunches, finding that they held firm, even when you put a little more muscle into it.

Bakugou’s gaze blazed over you, hot like coals. His eyes traced over your body, spread out under him now, your silk robe pooling at either side of you in a pink puddle.

He bent his head and kissed you again, until you were fuzzy with the feeling once more. Then he worked his way downwards, softly biting your shoulder, licking over one nipple, pressing deep kisses into your belly and then indent of your left hip.

A shock of pleasure raced through you when you realized where he was going with this, and you let out an involuntarily little gasp as he hooked your thighs over his broad shoulders.

“Katsuki,” you began, though you had no idea what you meant to follow it up with. Bakugou didn’t wait for you to finish, ducking his head and licking a hot stripe up the cleft of you.

Immediately you arched, thighs flexing under his hands. Your face heated when he laughed again, but any embarrassment was instantly forgotten when he licked over you again, slower and more deliberate this time.

“Oh my god,” you said again, biting off into a groan when his tongue dipped deeper between your folds, flicking up over your clit.

“Yeah, angel?” Bakugou asked, his voice a heady rasp. “You like that?” He layered another open mouthed kiss over you, slow and thorough, until you were arching up into his mouth again.

It would have been evident to anyone on earth how much you liked it from the noises you made, the way you kicked and squirmed with the movement of his mouth. He sucked your clit gently into his mouth, then laved over it firmly as he pressed his fingers to you, the pads of his index and middle slowly sinking into you.

Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head when he gave another slow suck, the feeling almost too much. His fingers pressed deeper into you, easily slipping in with how comically wet you were for him. The gentle suction of his mouth made everything a million times better, everything a million times worse, as he carefully curled his fingers within you. He seemed to immediately find a spot within you that felt like he was touching your clit from the other side too, and the feeling was immediately far too much.

“Holy shit,” you heard yourself say, cutting off into an honest to god whine when his tongue swirled around your clit, just as he teased a finger along you from the inside too. “Katsuki—oh! Katsuki please! Please oh my god oh my god.”

Bakugou’s ministrations grew a fraction firmer, and you heard him groan too as he kissed you messily.

“So fucking hot for me, sweetheart. So sweet,” he said, then sucked again, a tiny bit harder this time. His fingers stroked you from the inside, a firm, deliberate rhythm that had you turning your face and muffling a keen into the meat of your arm.

Your hips flexed against his face, wild and uncontrolled, wanting less, more, not enough, too much, oh my god—

“Katsuki!” you cried, as you suddenly hit the crest of your pleasure. Your wrists pulled against their bonds, and the feeling of helpless restraint suddenly made everything feel a thousand times more intense. Every single nerve ending in your body felt like it was on fire, so that even the air of the room seemed too harsh on your skin. You screamed as you rode out your pleasure against Bakugou’s face.

He worked you through it diligently, licking and sucking until you collapsed back to the mattress, panting like you’d just run a marathon.

“Good, angel?” Bakugou asked.

You nodded breathlessly, turning your face to his when he crawled up your body to kiss you again. The taste of yourself on him was both embarrassing and thrilling, but Bakugou didn’t give you much leeway to consider it, kissing you into a stupid, pliant little puddle against the mattress.

You could feel him hard and hot against your hip as he did so, but he didn’t make any move to get inside you yet. Instead, his hands moved over you, slowly teasing you from satiation back into want. His fingers played with your nipples again, pinching them softly and rolling them. It felt like he'd rigged up some kind of wire, leading from your nipples right to your core, that lit the pilot flame of your interest again.

A couple minutes of diligent teasing, and easy, unhurried kisses had you wiggling under him again soon enough. It was only then, when you realized you were unconsciously rocking your hips against Bakugou’s, that he finally sat back to shuck off his shirt and pants.

He was so unfairly beautiful, bared in the bright light of the room. You’d known he was gorgeous, of course, but up close he was something else entirely. He was chiseled with thick muscle, his chest and arms hard and glowing faintly with perspiration. The light and the shadows of the room played over the divots of his muscles with a deliberate care, like he was a painting instead of a man, highlighting him in loving shades. A set of perfect abs trailed down into the hard jut of hip bones over his pelvis, and his cock was just as upsettingly gorgeous as the rest of him. It was thick and full and flush with his arousal, and he wasted no time crawling back between your thighs.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked. His voice had gone even more gravelly than usual, and it plucked at your core like a string.

“Please, Katsuki,” you said, your voice embarrassingly breathy. You couldn’t help yourself though, couldn’t be ashamed with the easy way your thighs fell apart for him. Your ankles hooked across his back, trying to pull him closer still.

He groaned and surged up over you to grab a condom off the nightstand. He quickly rolled it onto himself in one practiced movement, before immediately pressing himself into you.

He sank in mortifyingly easily, you already half out of your mind with want. He didn’t seem to mind, though—you heard the soft, sibilant hiss of his own pleasure as he filled you, and your robe tugged the skin of your shoulder as he fisted a hand in it, just beside your head.

“Been dying to fuck you, angel,” he said. “Thinking about how hot and tight and sweet you would be for me. Been thinking about it nonstop.”

You made a vague noise of agreement, moving your hips with his as he drew back and pressed inside of you again. The slide of him inside you was mind-numbingly good, the pressure against your stomach as he pressed back in almost sparking stars in your vision. The flex of his abs between your thighs as he found his pace was almost immediately too much for you, and you had to turn your face away. You tilted your face up to his, watching him as he watched you.

Bakugou seemed to read your expression easily, finding the angle and pace you liked incredibly quickly. He slid an arm under the small of your back to angle your hips up into him, yanking you up like you were nothing, and the show of easy strength had your toes flexing and curling against his back.

He kissed you again, catching the sounds of your pleasure in his mouth as he rocked into you. You moved against him, hips bucking, delirious with the feeling of him. Eventually he freed his arm from under you, pressing his thumb to your slit again with deadly precision.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned into his mouth, legs tightening on him as he played with your clit. The almost-too-gentle sensation of his thumb on your clit, coupled with the relentless drive of him inside you had your vision sparking and greying at the edges. His face swam in front of yours, and all of your limbs began to feel shivery, almost too weak to lift yourself into him the way you needed, to rock against him and find relief from the friction.

Bakugou continued to tease at you, carefully pinching and petting. His hips drove into you tirelessly, slapping the bottoms of your thighs, as you strained in your silk bonds, wanting to grab him, pull him even harder into you.

“Katsuki, please please please,” you heard yourself begging. You felt him smile against your mouth, tasted his reply more than heard it.

“You want me to let you cum, angel?” he asked, doing something with his fingers that made your breath catch in your lungs.

“Unhh, yes—please!” you cried, desperation coming over you in a white haze.

You had never—never—been so desperate for anything in your entire life. You didn’t know how Bakugou was doing it, why his touch felt like so much more than anything else you’d ever felt in your life. If he didn’t let you cum you were certain you were going to die, right here and right now.

“You gonna scream for me, sweetheart?” Bakugou asked, his voice raspier than you’d ever heard it. He grit the words out, like he too was on the edge of his own climax, barely staving it off.

“Anything, I will do anything,” you babbled senselessly. “Yes—going to scream for you—Katsuki!”

Bakugou’s gaze was hotter than you’d ever seen it, scarlet eyes clouded with pleasure, glowing like banked coals. “Then you can come for me, angel. Come on, sweetheart.”

“Oh!” you cried in answer, your feet planting themselves on the bed to jut your hips up hard. Bakugou’s thumb pressed hard against your clit, then, firm and merciless, and he fucked into you harder, his pace growing faster, furious.

Your second orgasm hit you like a truck, snapping your spine into alignment, locking all your limbs up as if in rigor mortis.

“Katsuki!” you wailed as you writhed against him, clenching and fluttering around him as you sobbed.

“Oh fuck,” you heard him say, and his hips stuttered. You realized he was coming too, fucking into you sloppily and disjointedly as he rode out his own pleasure. You arched and spasmed with him, clawing uselessly at the silk that bound you, twisting in blissful agony.

When you finally came back to yourself you found yourself slumped on the bed, Bakugou’s weight pinning you down into the mattress. His chest was slicked to yours with sweat, and you could feel the rapid rise and fall of it against you as he caught his breath.

“That good, angel?” he asked, his voice heady with satisfaction.

You nodded, absently turning your face back up to his for a kiss. He granted it, kissing you almost possessively. He looked soft and rumpled, just the way you'd always liked him, and something in you purred with satisfaction at finally getting to have him like this for you.

Gradually, you became aware of other sounds in the room as you came down from your high. Quiet murmuring and the sounds of shuffling met your ears, the shutter click of a camera lens slicing through the atmosphere like a knife.

A sudden shock raced through you when you realized you and Bakugou were not alone—and you were on the set of a porn film, half a dozen eyes glued to you just over one of Bakugou’s thick shoulders.

A porn film. You had been shooting a porn film!

“And cut!” you heard the director’s voice ring out, like a bucket of water dumped over your head.

You tensed up beneath Bakugou, mind racing. Holy shit, he had actually managed to make you forget, exactly the way he'd promised.

You could tell Bakugou was thinking the same thing as he went to untie you, looking extremely satisfied with himself.

“Told you, angel,” he said, flashing something of a feral grin. You hated how good the self-conceit looked on him.

You went to draw your wrists back to yourself as he let them free. But Bakugou caught them instead, carefully massaging the skin there as if to make sure things were circulating properly. It was a startling note of unexpected care, as was the way he drew your robe closed around you again against the sudden chill of the room.

You found yourself saying wonderingly, “Wow. It was just that easy for you to switch partners like that.”

The thought somehow stung, even though you’d known going into this what you were getting yourself into. Somehow, the latent care and intention with which Bakugou had fucked you had addled your brain, made you think your connection had been something more. He had felt like he had feelings, beyond those mimed for the camera.

But here was evidence to the contrary, plain and simple. There literally was a camera.

Except then Bakugou looked down at you, a frown marring his pouty mouth. “Well yeah. ‘Course it was gonna be that easy when it’s you we’re talking about.”

You blinked at him, not understanding what he was saying. “Uh. When it’s—me?”

A crease came in between Bakugou’s blonde brows. “I said it, didn’t I? While we were fucking? Wanted to fuck you for a long time. Of course it was easy.”

Your stomach dropped, like a rug had just been yanked out from beneath you. “You—have? What? Since when?” you demanded.

Bakugou leveled you with an unimpressed stare. “Since the second time we met,” he said, and your mind flashed back to the way he’d seemed not to recognize you, that second time you'd spoken to him. “Once I realized you did work for UA and weren’t actually a little fucking creep trying to lure me into your car.”

You felt your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline. “Then—? For years? You cannot be serious. You never acted like we were anything other than coworkers!”

Bakugou scoffed. “We fucking were coworkers. And I told you, I don’t fuck coworkers off the clock.”

You blinked again, startled by the level of professionalism couched in the crassess of his statement. It made sense, you supposed, for a pornstar of Bakugou’s caliber to have put boundaries like that in place. Probably everyone in the world would just be dying for a shot at him.

“Wow,” you said, almost to yourself. You didn’t know what to do with this new information, wondered how it was going to be possible to behave professionally with Bakugou at all going forward. It was probably obvious to him how big your crush on him was, given that he’d known all along he could make you forget you were on camera. Given the way you reacted to him embarrassingly easily.

Except then Bakugou leaned forward, putting his face startlingly close to yours. “Emphasis on were, since this is my last shoot,” he said.

You stared at him, wondering if you were interpreting the implication correctly. There was no way he meant—?

“Uhhhh, meaning what, exactly?” you prompted, heart beating just a little bit quicker despite yourself.

Bakugou’s mouth turned up into a gorgeous smirk, and he ducked his head even closer, voice going softer.

“Meaning you’re going to get dressed and I’m going to take us to get something to eat,” he said, fingers playing at the edge of your robe. “And then you’re going to give me that ride home in your car after all. And we are going to do this all over again.”

Flames erupted across your face, sweeping across your cheeks. And you were up out of the bed before you even realized what you were doing, catching yourself on the bedside table as you stumbled.

Bakugou’s laugh chased out of the set room as you raced towards the wardrobe again. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, this time.

Not when your heart felt like it was going to beat right out of your chest. You smothered a smile as you ran down the hallway.

Much like Bakugou had just done to you—it looked like your hopes and dreams were finally lining themselves up and filling themselves in.

[pucksandpower]

Fantasy Come to Life

Day 23 → Consensual Non-Consent 💋 Max Verstappen

Warnings: 18+ content, CNC, drugging, and conditioning

Kinktober Masterlist

The streets of Monaco glimmer under the soft afternoon sun, a golden haze coating the narrow lanes of boutiques and cafés. Your sandals click against the cobblestone as you make your way towards the boutique district.

Excitement pulses in your veins. The air smells of salt from the sea mixed with expensive perfumes wafting from open shop doors. A vacation, you think. Finally, a breath of freedom.

There’s a group of tourists ahead, their laughter bouncing between the buildings, but you don’t pay them much attention. You’re too busy thinking about the new dress you’ve been eyeing since last night. Just a few more minutes, and you’ll-

A hand. Suddenly.

It’s over your mouth. It’s over your nose. You barely process the scent of something sweet before your body reacts, muscles tensing as you thrash, trying to scream. But your voice is gone. Your world is tipping sideways. The bustling streets dim, muffled voices becoming far-off echoes.

You struggle. Harder now, your legs kicking wildly, hands flailing to grab onto something — anything — but it’s useless. The arms around you are too strong, pulling you back, pulling you down. The cloth over your face smells like chemicals, sickly sweet and heavy.

The light above you begins to blur. Your fingers twitch, reaching for the fading streetlights, for the sky, but everything’s too far away. Your limbs stop responding. You’re falling.

And then — nothing.

***

When you come to, your eyelids feel impossibly heavy. Everything is hazy, dark. You try to move but your body doesn’t listen. Panic flares. You can barely breathe, and your head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton.

Then you hear voices. Men, low and murmuring, their words filtering into your consciousness through the haze.

“... should be waking up soon,” one of them says. His voice is smooth, calm, like this is all perfectly normal.

“Why her, though?” It’s the driver, speaking in a clipped tone. The rumble of the engine thrums beneath you, the subtle vibration reminding you that you’re in a car. “There are thousands of beautiful women here, Max. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

There’s a pause.

And then, a deeper voice, Max, answers.

“I knew the moment I saw her,” Max says, his tone dark, possessive. “She’s meant to be mine.”

Your heart thuds. You can hear him shifting in the seat next to you, close enough that you can feel the heat of him.

The driver scoffs. “That’s ridiculous. You don’t even know her.”

“I don’t need to,” Max replies smoothly. “Some things are undeniable.”

His words drip with confidence, like this is all part of some grand plan that only he understands.

You try to move again, to make a sound, but your limbs are heavy and unresponsive, and fear curls in your stomach like a fist. You’re trapped, lying motionless in the backseat of this car with two strangers, one of whom thinks he owns you.

“She’ll resist,” the driver says. “They always resist.”

Max chuckles, low and quiet. “Of course she will. At first.” There’s a pause, then you hear him shift closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “But I’ll make her understand. She’ll be perfect once I’ve made her mine.”

The air around you feels suffocating, his presence overwhelming. You want to scream, to cry, but your body remains limp, powerless under whatever they’ve drugged you with. You try to focus, to force your eyes open, but it’s like swimming through quicksand.

“She’s pretty,” the driver remarks after a beat. “But not worth all this. You really think she’s the one?”

Max lets out a quiet laugh, a sound that sends chills down your spine. “She is the one. I’ve seen plenty of women, but none like her.”

The driver grunts, unconvinced. “You sound obsessed.”

“I’m not obsessed,” Max corrects him, his tone calm, deliberate. “I’m certain.”

A silence stretches between them, the only sound the hum of the engine and the faint rustle of fabric as Max leans back.

You fight against the drug still clouding your senses, trying to make sense of your surroundings. The luxurious leather beneath you, the soft vibrations of the car — this isn’t just any car. It’s expensive. You can tell by the way it smells, by the subtle way it moves over the road. These men — they aren’t amateurs.

“What’s the plan, then?” The driver asks, breaking the silence. “You can’t just keep her like this.”

Max takes his time responding. “I’ll introduce myself properly once she wakes up. Once she’s calm.”

“And if she’s not?”

“She will be,” Max says, a thread of steel weaving into his voice. “She doesn’t have a choice.”

Your stomach churns. You try again to move, to scream, but nothing comes out. It’s like your body is a prison, and you’re trapped inside, helpless. You feel Max’s gaze on you, heavy, unyielding. Even though you can’t see him, you know he’s watching, waiting.

“You’re insane,” the driver mutters, shaking his head. “This is a bad idea.”

Max doesn’t respond immediately. When he does, his voice is low, quiet, almost intimate. “You don’t understand,” he says. “She belongs to me. I knew it the moment I saw her walk out of that hotel. I could feel it.”

The driver sighs. “I still don’t get it. Why go through all this trouble? She’s just a girl.”

“She’s not just a girl,” Max snaps, his patience thinning. “She’s the girl. The only one.”

Your pulse quickens. You’ve heard enough to know that whatever Max wants from you, it’s not something you can just walk away from. There’s something dangerous about the way he talks about you, like you’re an object, something to be claimed and owned.

“Whatever,” the driver says, clearly done with the conversation. “Just make sure you know what you’re doing.”

“I always do,” Max replies, the confidence back in his voice. “Now, keep driving.”

There’s a shift in the car, a turn, and you feel the momentum change as they head somewhere new. You fight to stay conscious, to fight through the fog in your mind, but it’s getting harder and harder to focus. The drugs are still working their way through your system, and you can feel yourself slipping.

Max leans in closer again, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “Don’t worry,” he says. “You’ll wake up soon. And when you do, we’ll start over. Properly this time.”

The car hums beneath you as it continues its journey, and with every second that passes, you feel yourself fading again, drifting away into the darkness.

***

Time slips away, and you don’t know how long you’ve been out when you finally stir. Your eyes flutter open, and the world slowly comes back into focus. The car has stopped, parked somewhere dark and quiet. You can barely move, but you manage to shift slightly, just enough to feel the weight of the leather seat beneath you, the tightness of your clothes against your skin.

There’s a rustle next to you, and then Max is there, leaning over you, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice a low purr. “You’re awake.”

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, and all that comes out is a faint croak.

“Shh,” Max soothes, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Don’t try to talk. You’re still a little out of it.”

Your heart races, and you try to push yourself up, but your limbs are still sluggish, your body refusing to obey.

Max watches you for a moment, then smiles. “Don’t worry,” he says. “This will all make sense soon enough.”

You want to scream, to lash out, to fight, but you can’t. You’re trapped, and Max knows it.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, leaning in close, his breath warm against your skin. “And I’ll make sure you understand that.”

Terror grips you, but there’s nothing you can do. Not yet.

Max sits back, his eyes never leaving you, and for the first time, you realize just how much danger you’re in.

The world outside the car is quiet, the faint rustle of leaves the only sound in the stillness. You’re groggy, trying to push through the fog in your mind as Max’s hands move to unbuckle your seatbelt. His touch is efficient, calculated, not gentle. The door opens with a soft click, and you feel the cool night air wash over your skin.

Max leans down, his face close to yours, eyes sharp and watchful. “I’m going to carry you inside,” he says, almost as if he’s giving you permission to protest. But you can’t. You can barely lift your head. The drug still lingers, turning your limbs to lead.

Without another word, he slides his arms under you, lifting you effortlessly. His grip is secure, possessive, and you can feel the strength in his muscles as he carries you out of the car and toward the looming silhouette of a villa in the distance. It’s massive. Larger than anything you’ve ever seen in real life, with sprawling gardens that stretch into the darkness. The villa itself is lit from within, a soft glow spilling through tall windows. It’s beautiful in a cold, detached way, like a piece of art you can admire but never touch.

As Max carries you up the long driveway, his pace is steady, unhurried. He isn’t worried about anyone seeing him. He’s confident. Why wouldn’t he be? There’s no one around. No one to help.

“Where are you taking me?” You manage to whisper, your voice weak but steady enough to ask the question that’s been burning in your mind.

Max doesn’t stop walking. He doesn’t even look at you. “Home,” he replies simply.

You swallow, the word landing like a stone in your chest. “This isn’t-”

“It will be,” he cuts you off, his voice calm, like he’s already made up his mind about everything. “You’ll see.”

You try to focus, to take in every detail. The way the villa seems to stretch forever, the heavy scent of flowers in the air, the distant hum of the sea. The weight of Max’s arms around you, the way his fingers press into your skin as though he’s afraid you might slip away.

But you’re not slipping anywhere.

He carries you through the grand entrance, past doors that swing open with ease, revealing a marble-floored foyer that’s so pristine, it feels untouched. There’s a quietness to the place, a hollow, echoing silence that sends a chill down your spine.

The sound of Max’s shoes against the marble floor is steady, rhythmic, as he carries you through the house. You catch glimpses of rooms as you pass — an opulent dining room with a crystal chandelier, a sitting room with velvet chairs and enormous windows. But it’s all a blur, your mind struggling to hold on to details as exhaustion pulls at you.

Finally, Max stops in front of a set of tall double doors. He shifts you slightly in his arms, then pushes one of the doors open with his shoulder. The room beyond is lavish, even more opulent than the rest of the villa. The bed is massive, draped in silk and velvet, with heavy curtains framing the windows that stretch from floor to ceiling. The walls are lined with dark wood, polished to a shine, and a crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting soft light across the room.

Max walks over to the bed, lowering you gently onto the soft mattress. Your body sinks into the silk sheets, and for a moment, it feels like you’re floating. But the comfort is fleeting, replaced quickly by the suffocating weight of reality.

He stands over you, his eyes scanning your face as if he’s searching for something. “This is where you’ll stay for now,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact. “Until you understand.”

You blink, struggling to keep your thoughts from spiraling out of control. “Understand what?”

Max’s lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile. “That you belong here. With me.”

You want to argue, to scream, to do anything to break through the haze that’s clouding your mind. But the words catch in your throat, and all you can manage is a shaky breath.

Max moves to the foot of the bed, his hands clasped behind his back as he regards you with that same unnerving calm. “This is the beginning,” he says softly. “The conditioning will start now.”

Your heart lurches. Conditioning. The word feels clinical, detached, like something out of a textbook. But the way Max says it makes it clear that this is no abstract concept. This is real. It’s happening to you.

“What are you talking about?” You whisper, forcing the words past the lump in your throat.

Max steps closer, his gaze steady, almost gentle. “You’re going to learn to associate certain things with me. Pleasure, comfort, safety. And you’ll learn that being without me ... hurts.” He says it so simply, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Your stomach twists. “You can’t ... you can’t do this.”

“I already am,” he replies smoothly, his eyes dark and unreadable. “The process is simple. Every time you wake up, you’ll feel better when I’m here. Worse when I’m not. Eventually, it’ll become instinct. You’ll crave my presence. You’ll need me.”

Your breath quickens, panic rising in your chest. “You’re insane.”

Max tilts his head slightly, as though considering your words. “Maybe,” he says, almost casually. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

Before you can respond, there’s a knock at the door. Max doesn’t react, doesn’t even turn to look as the door swings open. A man enters, dressed in a white coat, carrying a small bag in one hand. He’s older, with graying hair and a sharp, clinical air about him. He looks at you briefly, then turns his attention to Max.

“Everything’s prepared,” the man says, his voice clipped and professional.

Max nods. “Good. Let’s begin.”

The man moves to the side of the bed, setting his bag down on the nightstand. You try to push yourself up, but your body still feels sluggish, uncooperative. Fear surges through you as the man opens the bag, pulling out a syringe filled with clear liquid.

“Wait,” you rasp, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Please, don’t do this.”

Max moves closer, his gaze fixed on you. “It’s for your own good,” he says softly. “You’ll understand soon.”

The physician takes your arm, finding a vein with practiced ease. You flinch, but the needle is in before you can even protest. The liquid burns as it enters your bloodstream, a slow, creeping warmth that spreads through your body.

Your vision starts to blur again, the edges of the room fading into darkness. Max’s voice is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

“You’ll wake up soon,” he says, his voice gentle, almost soothing. “And when you do, I’ll be here. Right where I belong.”

***

The next time you open your eyes, it feels like hours have passed. Maybe days. You’re not sure. The room is the same, the heavy curtains drawn, the chandelier casting its soft glow across the dark wood and silk.

Max is there, sitting in a chair by the bed, watching you. His presence is like a weight in the room, something you can feel even before you fully register it. The sight of him sends a strange warmth through your chest, a flicker of something you don’t want to acknowledge.

“You’re awake,” he says, his voice low and steady.

You blink, trying to shake off the fog that still clings to your mind. “What ... what did you do?”

Max leans forward slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I told you,” he says softly. “The conditioning has begun.”

You try to sit up, but your body feels weak, drained. The drug — whatever they gave you — is still working its way through your system, dulling your senses. But even through the haze, you can feel it. The strange pull toward Max, the inexplicable comfort that his presence brings. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong.

“You can’t-” you start, but your voice falters. The words don’t come as easily as they should.

Max stands, moving to the side of the bed. “I know it’s confusing right now,” he says, his tone almost kind. “But it’ll get easier. The more time we spend together, the more natural it’ll feel. You’ll stop fighting it.”

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog. “I’ll never-”

“You will,” Max interrupts, his voice firm but not harsh. “You don’t have a choice.”

He reaches out, brushing a hand over your hair, his touch gentle but possessive. The warmth that spreads through you at the contact is immediate, overwhelming, and you hate it. You hate the way your body responds, the way your mind seems to betray you.

“I’ll leave you for now,” Max says, pulling his hand back. “But don’t worry. I won’t be gone long.”

Your heart races as he steps away, moving toward the door. The thought of him leaving sends a sharp pang through your chest, and you can’t understand why. This is what you want. To be free of him. To be alone.

But as the door closes behind him, the room suddenly feels colder, emptier. The warmth he left behind begins to fade, replaced by an aching void that gnaws at you from the inside.

You close your eyes, trying to fight it, trying to cling to your own thoughts, but the emptiness crashes over you like a tidal wave. It’s immediate — sharp and suffocating, spreading through your body like a cold fog. You close your eyes, trying to focus on anything else, but the ache pulses deep inside you. Your muscles tense as though they’re bracing against a storm, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

The room feels unbearably quiet without him, as though the air has been sucked out, leaving only a hollow silence behind. You hate this. You hate how quickly your body has betrayed you, how quickly the comfort of his presence has taken root inside you.

This is wrong, you tell yourself. It’s the drugs, the conditioning.

But the longer he’s gone, the more unbearable the ache becomes. It’s subtle at first, like a distant pressure, but it grows stronger, clawing at your insides until every nerve feels raw and exposed. Your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps as you fight against the pull, but it’s relentless.

Time stretches out. You don’t know how long you’ve been lying there, staring up at the ceiling, but it feels like an eternity. Every second without him feels like a thousand needles pressing into your skin. Your body screams for relief, for the warmth of his presence to soothe the burning ache inside you.

You grit your teeth, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. This isn’t real, you think, but your body doesn’t care. All it knows is that it hurts.

And then, after what feels like an eternity, the door opens.

The relief is instant. The moment Max steps into the room, the ache that’s been gnawing at you recedes, replaced by a wave of warmth that rushes through your veins. You hate it. You hate how quickly the pain fades, how easily your body responds to him, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

Max walks in slowly, his eyes locked on you, taking in every detail of your face as if reading the changes in your expression. You don’t need to speak for him to know what you’re feeling. He can see it. He can see how desperate your body is for the comfort he brings, even though your mind is screaming for it to stop.

“I told you,” Max says softly, moving closer to the bed. “You’ll feel better when I’m here.”

You don’t respond. You can’t. Your throat feels tight, the words trapped inside you, and the worst part is you don’t know if they’d come out as anger or something worse.

Max sits on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. The touch is gentle, careful, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “I’m here to make you feel good,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “That’s what I’ll always do. As long as you behave for me.”

You swallow hard, the weight of his words pressing down on you. He says it like a promise, like he genuinely believes that he’s helping you.

“I don’t need you,” you manage to whisper, your voice shaking. “I don’t want this.”

Max’s smile is soft, almost pitying. “Your body says otherwise.” His fingers trail down your cheek, brushing against your skin. “You can fight it all you want, but you’ll always feel better when I’m close. That’s the way it’s going to be.”

You try to pull away from his touch, but your body betrays you, craving the warmth and relief that comes with his proximity. The ache that had threatened to consume you moments ago is gone, replaced by a simmering heat that spreads through your limbs, making your skin tingle under his fingertips.

Max watches you closely, his eyes dark and calculating as he gauges your reaction. “See?” He murmurs, his voice soft and coaxing. “You’re already starting to understand.”

“I hate you,” you whisper, but even as you say the words, your body is reacting to him, leaning into his touch despite the protests screaming in your mind.

Max doesn’t flinch at your words. If anything, he seems amused. “Hate me if you want,” he says, his tone light. “But your body knows the truth.”

His hand moves lower, trailing down your arm, sending a ripple of sensation through you that you can’t control. Your breath catches in your throat as the warmth intensifies, and you clench your fists, trying to fight the pull.

Max’s fingers skim the edge of your dress, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches the way your body reacts. “You’ll feel good, I promise,” he whispers. “Better than you’ve ever felt before.”

You shake your head, panic rising in your chest. “No-”

But Max doesn’t stop. His hand slips under the fabric of your dress, his touch deliberate and slow as he hikes it up over your thighs, exposing your skin to the cool air of the room. Your heart races, a mixture of fear and something you don’t want to name thrumming through your veins.

“Shh,” Max soothes, his voice steady. “You’ll learn to trust me. To need me. It’s already happening.”

You try to close your legs, but his hands are firm, guiding you open, controlling the movement of your body as if you’re nothing more than a doll in his hands. A small, broken sound escapes your throat, but he doesn’t stop, his fingers tracing patterns over your skin, making your pulse quicken.

“I told you I’d make you feel good,” he says softly, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “You don’t have to fight it.”

Tears prick at your eyes, your chest heaving with shallow, uneven breaths. You want to scream, to kick, to fight him off, but the weight of your own body holds you down. And worse — the warmth that follows his touch, the heat building in your core, it betrays you. You can’t stop the way your body reacts to him, no matter how much you want to.

Max shifts, his knee pressing against the bed as he leans over you, his hand sliding higher under your dress. His fingers graze the edge of your underwear, and your breath hitches, panic and unwanted anticipation coiling together inside you.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “Don’t.”

But Max doesn’t listen. His hand slips beneath the fabric, his fingers brushing against you, and the sensation is overwhelming. You arch against him involuntarily, your body moving without your consent, and the heat inside you builds, the ache that had threatened to consume you earlier morphing into something entirely different.

“You’ll come to love this,” Max says, his tone calm, confident. “In time, you’ll crave it.”

You want to scream that he’s wrong, that you’ll never crave this, but your body doesn’t listen. It reacts to his touch, to the way his fingers move, coaxing a response out of you that you can’t control.

Max’s other hand moves to your hair, brushing it back gently as he leans down, his lips close to your ear. “Let go,” he whispers. “Stop fighting it. I’ll take care of you.”

Your breath is ragged, your heart pounding in your chest as the heat builds inside you, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge, caught between the need to escape and the unbearable sensation that’s pushing you closer to a precipice you don’t want to fall over.

“I’ll always make you feel good,” Max murmurs, his fingers moving faster over your clit, his voice a steady, calming presence in the storm raging inside you. “As long as you’re good for me.”

Your body tenses, the wave crashing over you, pulling you under. You gasp, your back arching off the bed as the sensation overwhelms you, drowning out every thought, every protest, until there’s nothing left but the blinding heat of release.

Max’s hand stills, his touch softening as the aftershocks ripple through you, and he watches, his expression unreadable as you come undone beneath him. You hate it. You hate every second of it. But the worst part is that your body craves it.

Max leans back, his hand trailing away from you, leaving your skin burning in its absence. He stands, adjusting his sleeves as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

“You did well,” he says, his voice soft, almost tender. “I’ll leave you to rest now.”

Your body is limp, your mind spinning as you try to process what’s just happened. The ache is gone, replaced by an empty exhaustion that weighs heavily on your limbs.

Max heads toward the door, pausing only briefly to glance back at you. “Remember,” he says quietly, his eyes dark and intense. “You’ll always feel better when I’m here.”

Then he’s gone, the door closing softly behind him.

You lie there, staring at the ceiling, the echo of his touch still lingering on your skin. The room is silent again, but this time the silence isn’t cold. It’s suffocating, pressing down on you like a heavy blanket, and for the first time since you arrived in this place, you realize just how trapped you are.

And worst of all, you know that he’s right.

***

The door opens again.

This time, when you hear it, your body doesn’t flood with fear, or even confusion — it’s anticipation. The ache that had returned in his absence is quickly soothed as Max steps into the room, his presence undeniable, filling the space with a charged energy that you’ve come to crave.

His steps are measured, deliberate, as he crosses the room to you. There’s no hesitation in his movement, no uncertainty. He knows exactly what he’s doing and what you both agreed upon. The room feels smaller when he’s in it, like the walls close in, but in a way that feels safe, protected — like nothing can touch you except him.

Max’s lips curl into a slow, knowing smile as he comes to the side of the bed, his eyes locking onto yours. He says nothing at first, letting the moment linger between you, thick and heavy. You’re not sure if you should speak or wait for him to break the silence.

He doesn’t make you wait long.

“Good girl,” he murmurs softly, his voice like velvet as he leans down, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “You were perfect.”

There’s a flutter of warmth in your chest at the praise, something that makes you feel both proud and vulnerable all at once. You blink up at him, your body still exhausted from what just happened, but there’s something comforting about the way he’s looking at you now. The way his hand reaches out to caress your cheek, tender and affectionate, as if to erase any remnants of the harshness from before.

“I wasn’t sure if you could handle it,” Max continues, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw with an intimacy that feels far more personal than anything he’s done before. “But you did. You always do, don’t you?”

You nod, your throat tight, the words caught somewhere between your mind and your mouth. You can’t quite shake the feeling of how intense everything was, how quickly it all escalated. But now, with him here, touching you like this, the pieces of the scene start to fall away, revealing what lies underneath.

Max watches you, waiting for your response, but he’s patient. He always is, especially after something like this. He knows you need time to come back down, to find your footing after the role you’ve both played.

“Was it … okay?” You manage to ask, your voice still soft and hesitant. There’s a vulnerability in your tone, a need for reassurance, even though you know how he feels.

Max’s eyes soften, and he leans down to kiss you — soft, slow, and deliberate. His lips linger against yours, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss. It’s a different kind of intensity now, one that speaks to the connection you both share. When he finally pulls back, there’s a hint of amusement in his gaze.

“More than okay,” he whispers. “You were incredible.”

The tension that had been coiled inside you loosens at his words, and you feel yourself relax against the pillows. Max’s praise always has this effect on you, like it fills in the cracks and makes everything feel right again.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your lower lip as he studies your face. “Every second of it was perfect because it was with you.”

The weight of those words settles into your chest, grounding you in the reality of what you both share. It’s all an act — a scene you agreed upon. Max has always been careful, always made sure you were okay with everything. That’s how it works between you two. The intensity, the control, the power dynamic — it’s all part of the game, part of what you’ve both built together. But underneath it all is the love, the trust that binds you to him.

He presses another kiss to your lips, softer this time, a gesture of affection rather than dominance. When he pulls away, there’s a lightness in his expression, a warmth that makes the remnants of the scene melt away completely.

“I have something for you,” he says, standing up and walking toward the door. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

You watch as he exits the room, the anticipation building again, though this time it’s mixed with curiosity. Moments later, Max returns, pushing a small cart laden with trays of food. The smell hits you first — rich, savory, and mouthwatering. Your stomach growls in response, reminding you that you haven’t eaten in what feels like forever.

Max notices, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a satisfied smile. “I thought you might be hungry.”

You sit up slightly, propping yourself on your elbows as Max wheels the cart over to the side of the bed. He lifts the lids from the trays, revealing an array of delicacies — perfectly grilled meats, roasted vegetables, fresh fruit, and decadent desserts. It’s more than just a meal, it’s a feast.

“Let me,” Max says, reaching for a fork. He cuts a small piece of steak and holds it out to you, his eyes watching your every movement, waiting for you to take the first bite.

You hesitate for only a moment before leaning forward, letting him feed you. The flavors burst across your tongue, rich and savory, and you can’t help the small sound of appreciation that escapes your lips.

Max’s smile widens. “Good?”

You nod, swallowing before responding. “It’s amazing.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and there’s that familiar warmth in his voice again, the praise sinking into your skin like sunlight. He cuts another piece of food, feeding it to you before leaning in to kiss you between bites.

Each kiss is soft, slow, and filled with an affection that feels worlds away from the intensity of earlier. You sink into the moment, into the comfort of his presence, letting yourself be taken care of.

“You were so perfect for me,” Max whispers between kisses, his lips brushing against your cheek. “I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

You smile softly, feeling the tension of the day melt away as you let him feed you, let him take care of you. There’s something intimate about the act, something grounding. It’s not just about the food — it’s about the connection, the way he looks at you with such devotion in his eyes.

Max takes his time, savoring the moment as much as you are. He alternates between feeding you and stealing kisses, each one a little longer, a little deeper than the last. His hands are gentle as they move over your skin, brushing your hair back, cupping your face, his touch always lingering just a little longer than necessary.

“You have no idea how proud I am of you,” he murmurs against your lips. “The way you trust me, the way you let go. It’s everything I could ever want.”

You close your eyes, leaning into him, the warmth of his words settling deep inside you. It’s always like this after a scene — the tenderness, the closeness. Max knows how to bring you back, how to make you feel safe and loved after everything.

“I couldn’t do it without you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Max pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression softening even more. “We do this together. That’s what makes it so special.”

There’s a weight to his words, a promise that echoes in the quiet of the room. You nod, knowing it’s true. You wouldn’t be able to do any of this without him — not the scenes, not the intensity, not the way you let yourself go completely when you’re with him.

Max leans in again, kissing you deeply this time, his hands cradling your face as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. When he finally pulls away, there’s a hunger in his eyes, but it’s not the same hunger from earlier. This one is softer, more intimate, and it makes your heart swell in your chest.

“I love you,” he says again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you too,” you reply, the words coming easily, naturally, because they’re the truest thing you know.

Max smiles, a slow, satisfied smile that makes your stomach flip. He reaches for one of the desserts on the tray — a small piece of chocolate cake — and holds it out to you. You take a bite, and before you can even swallow, Max is kissing you again, his lips tasting of chocolate and sweetness.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs against your lips, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of kisses and laughter, the food slowly disappearing from the trays as Max continues to feed you, praising you with every bite and every kiss. The intensity of earlier is long gone, replaced by something deeper, something that feels like home.

And as you lie there in his arms, sated and content, you know that no matter what happens, no matter how intense the scenes get, you’ll always have this — this quiet, tender intimacy that belongs to just the two of you.

[naomis-daydream]

she’s my // paige bueckers

warnings: explicit lyrics (song + comments) & grinding? they’re literally dancing though yawl so it’s fine!!

summary: you and paige have been best friends since you arrived at UConn your sophomore year, to the general public, at least. though most would say they’re a little too close for comfort. what happens when the two are caught being more than friendly at a concert during the off season?

a/n: i lowkey don’t like this😭. roughly inspired by all the videos of paige at the a boogie concert and a very specific lyrics from the song “mood swings” ;)

✧

usually you hated concerts.

the entire concept of them, to be honest. thousands of sweaty bodies, crowded areas, and loud music. it was all a huge turn off for you, with the exception of a few of your favorites who you would kill to see in person. so, when your girlfriend surprised you with tickets to a boogie’s concert, who were you to say no?

the seats were amazing, with you practically being feet away from the stage. you were currently pressed against a metal railing separating the audience from security who guarded the stage, aubrey, kk, and azzi to the left of you in the same predicament, while paige was to your right side. amidst the high capacity of the crowd, still you swayed mindlessly, mouthing the lyrics to “drowning,” as the bass filled your ears and pounded against your feet.

you continue to rap along to the beat, turning to azzi to match her flow as she recorded you, paige close behind you throwing up two peace signs.

you laugh as she hypes you up, ending the video as the song comes to a close. as it fades out, a familiar “wheezy outta here!” floods the speakers, evoking screams of excitement from the audience.

“ahhh shit!” you yell, causing azzi to shake her head with a smile.

“they got you started, huh?” paige asks, from beside you.

though you don’t answer her question, not in the way she hopes, at least. you choose instead to face her as the song begins.

i’ma beast, i’ma goblinnn, let that shit fly. you don’t want not problemmm

as you continue the taller girl simply admires you, rapping while throwing up all kinds of hand gestures to the music. she’s nodding and rocking with you to the beat of the music, nose scrunched up as you lock eyes. you point to her as a smile forms on your lips, as you mouth the lyrics.

she was my bestie, never knew she was so nasty, yeah.

and she so sexy. kissing on bitches like lesbians, yeah.

paige raised her brows at your bold demeanor, seemingly forgetting about the nature of your relationship as you were surrounded by thousands of people, plenty of which had already recognized paige.

though, she thought, what’s the harm in a little teasing, right?

with that in mind, she takes your hand that was previously pointing at her, raising it above your head as you swayed. she twirls you slowly, stopping once you’re facing away from her.

perfectly in sync with the music, you start to whine your waist against her pelvis, bending over slightly.

ass so fat, oh bounce it up and down like a basketball.

she drops your hand previously raised above your head, placing it on your waist instead, guiding you.

you place your palms on the cold metal in front of you, smiling as you look back to find Paige’s gaze glued to the curve of your ass, barely contained by the skirt that adorned your figure.

you laugh as you stand upright again, feeling a quick slap on your ass as you adjust your skirt. you turn around, giving your girlfriend a smile with a playful glint in your eyes.

when you meet azzi’s eyes, her pointed disapproval doesn’t go unnoticed. you glance beside her at aubrey who shares a similar unamused look.

“what?” you ask.

“nothing,” aubrey shrugs with a goofy smile, “just didn’t know yall got down like that.”

-

the next morning, you’re greeted with rays of light peeking through your thin curtains, forcing your eyes to squint at the intensity.

it wasn’t warm and yellow like the early morning sun, but harsh and white like that of a midday rise. you rolled over, your girlfriend’s arm still wrapped loosely around your waist as you go to check the time.

2:37pm.

you chuckle at the sight. with how late you guys were out last night, it was no surprise to you that you woke up so far into the day.

your movements, though minimal, seem to pull paige out of her sleep, grogginess lacing her voice as she stretches and groans.

you turn back around, sitting up against the headboard. you run your fingers through her blonde locks, smiling at her puffy lips pouting as she pulls herself from her sleepy state.

“good morning sleepyhead,” you say softly.

“g’morning,” she mumbles, lips still buried in the covers. “what time is it?”

“half past two. we had a little too much fun last night i think.”

this pulls her head up from the mattress, and sleepy smile on her lips as she recalls the concert. “mmm, we had a time last night.”

you giggle at her words, smiling down at her. you reach for your phone on the nightstand beside you, going to look at the pictures from the previous night.

you scroll through the countless photos and videos you took that night, from you recording a boogie from the audience with you rapping in the background, pictures of you and the girls getting ready, and the string of locations paige dragged you to after the concert.

you eventually go to tiktok, initially wanting to see your drafts of the many attempts of a dance the team tried to teach you, but you were sidetracked by over a hundred notifications in your inbox from the last couple of hours.

you had been tagged in videos, pictures, and in comments relating to the team at the concert last night. you smile as you see a few of the crowd hyping kk as she danced in the center of a circle, locs bouncing to a bass that was deafening even through the phone. though, that isn’t what caught your eye, it was the fact that the majority of them pertained to a blurry video of you bent over in front of paige with her eyes and hands glued to your ass and you danced on her.

“oh my gosh,” you mutter.

paige plants her head in your lap, looking over at your phone to see what you were looking at.

“oh…shit.”

in hindsight, it may not have been the smartest decision to practically grind on one of the most popular college basketball players at a concert where she’d already been recognized countless times. more so when it was to a lyrics about girls who like girls. but what the hell? who two weren’t exactly a secret, you just never addressed rumours and kept it pushing.

you see her shrug below you as she watches the video replay, shrugging before pulling the cover closer to her and burying her face deeper into your lap. “guess the damage is already done, might as well stop hiding.”

you go to open the comments, knowing people are loosing their shit, and you’re right, which is why you can’t help but laugh as you read them.

uconnfanpage no fucking way.

bueckersb1tch YALLLLLL

user3 the way she was catching her shit…

editzgalore DAMN IT💔

user6 best friends my ass😭😭

wcbb_fan ain’t no way they ain’t fucking💀

username ONE LEG UP MADISON. REALLY?

✧

[darlingsshii]

breeding season~!

°•*⁀➷ hi i finally remembered to write things anyways adepti breeding season methinks

cw: girldick. boydick too. everyone has a pp except reader. afab! gn! reader. lots and lots of breeding. a lot of cum also. feral characters. lowkey kinda omegaverse. dom characters. xianyun canonically has claws. slight blood kink for her too.

ZHONGLI prefers to present himself as a gentleman in most scenarios, and god was it getting difficult to keep his composure when all he wanted to do was pin you down and breed you all night long until the sun was rising. it was just a bit inconvenient when he found himself going into the adeptus equivalent of heat, and frankly he didn’t know how he survived it before he had you. after all, why would he pleasure himself with his hand if you were right there and willing to help him? granted, you may not have known what you were signing up for when you agreed, but he won’t let you go now.

how many hours had it been? you had long since sunken under the waves of overstimulation, only being able to make pathetic whimpers that just spur on your boyfriend. with every thrust of his cock into your messy cunt, a bit of his cum drips out and onto the drenched bedsheets. this man has insane amounts of stamina, and he’s not stopping until he absolutely has to.

XIAO tries not to be obvious about it. he tries to be more gentle in bed, but his slightly rougher demeanor gives him away immediately. he’s so reluctant to pull out even after he cums inside, he has to physically restrain himself from continuing to thrust into your used hole. he would bury his face into your shoulder to inhale your scent, driving him closer and closer to just going absolutely feral.

he tries to be gentle, he really does, but when you just feel so fucking good around his cock with your scent in his head, he might just lose his patience and pin you down. if you’re too loud and whiny, don’t be surprised when he forces his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet- or at least let the lewd sound of plap plap plap do the talking. at least the aftercare is phenomenal.

GANYU is very submissive when it comes to her mindset of sex. if it pleases you, she’ll do it. want her to top? done! want her to bottom? done! the only time she takes the lead is during breeding season when she just can’t help herself. her sensitivity is so heightened that even a whiff of your scent has her rock hard and roughly pulling you aside to grind into your cunt. she’s normally such a sweet and gentle girl, so seeing this switch flip internally is a sight to behold. she’ll go from shyly blushing and holding your hand to gripping your hips with almost bruising strength while she pounds you mercilessly.

how many rounds had you been going for? you had honestly lost count. you were so overstimulated that your brain was just static and endless pleasure as she continued to piston in and out of your messy and used hole. her cum stained the sheets around you, making a lewd squelching noise with every thrust. her gentle praises were more than enough contrast to the desperate way she was grinding her cock as deep as it could possibly go, whimpering and moaning almost pathetically. and she would keep going until she passed out if it meant she got to keep breeding you.

XIANYUN is very upfront about her needs when it comes to breeding season. she’s been alive for thousands of years, no use in beating around the bush when it comes to those things, otherwise nothing would ever get done. she’s a busy woman, and she’s almost procedural in her approach at first. that is, until she finally sinks her cock into your needy hole. something snaps within her and she’s holding onto your hips so hard her claws would dig painfully into your skin and leave small spots of blood behind.

she wouldn’t stop until you see stars. not until your womb was absolutely filled to the brim with her warm cum and it dripped out every time you moved, thrusting it deeper and deeper into you with breathy moans and praises. she’s normally so orderly and tidy, but you just do things to her that she can’t explain.

[cuntressgoingdigital]

SUPER RICH KIDS | ufc fighter! abby anderson x model! reader

free palestine! click this link for more info

synopsis: you're a fairly notable model and a big fan of UFC newcomer, abby anderson. by a cruel twist of fate, you're caught liking a tik tok edit of abby on your main account. instead of backing down, you use unconventional methods to capture the attention of the fighter before the most important fight of her career.

notes: i have spent an unfathomable amount of time writing/rewriting this and i can't take it anymore! if i don't give in and post it now it's going to rot in my drafts forever

click here for my series masterlist.

cw: 18+ content MDNI, fem reader (she/her pronouns used), alcohol & drug use, oral (a! receiving), abby is gay & in denial + a huge fucking loser

word count: 10.5k

you had your phone set up against your vanity where you sat perfecting your makeup. you were only running to grab coffee with your friend who was stopping in town for a quick photoshoot. comments on your instagram live scrolled quickly on your phone as your ten thousand viewers all vied for your attention. 

“what have you been watching?” you read a comment aloud. you hummed in thought for a moment. “i honestly haven’t had a lot of time to watch stuff recently. fashion week is coming up and y’all know that’s my favorite time of the year.” one last look in your vanity mirror, and you decided your makeup was officially done. “however,” you begin “my ex got me really into ufc, so i always make time for that.” the comments immediately start with their guesses about the identity of this ex, as per usual. tabloids loved to make every small hangout a dating rumor. you ignored those comments and doubled back to your statement. “really, think about it. hot women beating the shit out of each other. one of television’s greatest gifts.” crying laughing emojis started rolling in. “i’m actually really excited for this next fight card.”

a text from your friend dings on your phone alerting you that she’s on her way to the cafe. your cue to end the live. “okay babes, thank you so much for chatting with me! i have to go, but i love all of you. mwah!” you blew a kiss at the camera before pressing the button to stop the broadcast. 

later that night, you’re laying in bed, staring at your phone. a crucial part of your nightly routine. it was as if your tik tok for you page had heard your earlier declaration and started showing you edits of different ufc fighters. you had no interest in the male fighters, scrolling past those videos with no hesitation. this idea did pique your interest. you tap over to the search tab, and type 

abby anderson edits

she was by far your favorite fighter. tear jerking underdog story and the icing on top of the cake was how hot she was. that long blonde hair that was always shiny and soft looking. her perfectly toned arms that you frequently envisioned wrapped around your waist. her long fingers that always prompted the most embarrassingly sinful thoughts. 

the post was a cinematic, yet concerningly horny, work of art. you double tapped the post and continued on with your idle scroll until you tossed your phone to the other end of the bed and fell asleep. 

the repeated buzzing of your phone pulled you from your slumber. the sun was blocked by your blackout curtains, so you had no real concept of time until you looked down at your phone. only a little after 11AM. the next thing that caught your eye was numerous texts in your groupchat with your friends: charlotte, cassidy, and lynzee. 

charlotte, you’d met at a grammy’s afterparty when she brought home the best new artist award. cassidy was your typical drug abusing miami rich girl skating by on daddy’s money. and lynzee was a model you had worked with so often that you became pretty close. after a few years of forcing everyone into close proximity, you were a merry band of semi-dysfunctional really rich friends. 

lynzee: bitch PLEASE check twitter

char: oml thats fucking embarrassing

cass: girl atp you gotta delete all your accounts and move to mars

you realized very quickly all of these texts were directed at you. your hands were shaking as you opened twitter. what could it be this time? 

your mentions were blowing up with the same screenshot. you had accidentally liked the edit of abby on your main account. the creator immediately noticed and posted the screenshot of the notification on twitter. you screamed into your pillow. there was no way to undo this. it was embarrassing, but not career ending. you thumbed back to the groupchat.

you: man fuck yall!! 

you: idk ig im gna double down lmao

you reopen the twitter app and quote the original tweet. 

uh oh. you guys caught me lmao

there was no real point in trying to claim you got hacked or that it was an accident. you would just ride the wave until everyone found something else to talk about. 

and after a couple days they did. it was left as an inside joke for your friend group in which they sent you every video of abby that they came across, irrevocably altering everyone’s social media algorithms.

thursday night your manager called while you were enjoying a lovely meal of doordashed sushi. her grating high pitched voice would’ve ruined your dinner if you weren’t already so used to it. 

“hey, tiff. what’s up?” you put the phone on speaker so you could pour your soy sauce and prepare your chopsticks.

“okay. hear me out– and listen to my full statement before you sigh, scoff, or say anything! i know how you are.” her words made you scowl, but you kept all reactionary noises to yourself. “okay, so tomorrow you’re hopping on a plane to las vegas. your most recent controversy with a certain ufc fighter was caught by some of the promotional execs at maison margiela.” you could only cringe in silence. did everyone know? “they want you to attend saturday’s fight card, show off some new pieces, maybe act cute and joke around, then you can go home.” tiffany paused. “now you may speak.”

“you just set this up without asking me? what if i had plans?”

“if you did, you didn’t run them by me and thus they don’t exist.”

truthfully, you didn’t have plans. you just didn’t want to relive the last 48 hours. people had finally given up teasing you online. in the past, people have called you every evil name under the sun, all of which you could brush off. this time you were publicly labeled as a horny freak. this time the allegations were true. 

you let out the sigh that tiffany anticipated from the moment you pressed the green answer call button. “what time is my flight?”

“good girl.”

and just like that, the very next day you were touching down in las vegas after your red eye flight. moving through TSA and the gates were a breeze. you slept for a few hours before your usual stylist met you at your hotel room. they took some measurements, showed you a few outfit concepts, and were on their way. you spent most of the day in bed in your hotel room, drumming up the energy to sit through hair and makeup later that night. 

abby’s fight was meant to begin around 10:30PM. while you had spent your time resting in bed, abby had been tirelessly working out, stretching, and psyching herself up. tonight was a big moment for her. she was slated to fight ellie williams, a certified fan favorite. her trainer was a hot shot old timer who retired a good twenty or so years ago. she essentially picked up his mantle, and everyone’s obsession with him trickled down into support for her. abby came from relatively humble beginnings. her trainer, isaac, had always remained rather private. he’d trained a few other fighters, but none of them had any real notoriety or staying power. abby wanted to break that pattern. she needed to prove herself tonight. 

it also didn’t help that ellie had talked so much shit about her and her fighting track record. most of the time it was something you did for cameras and then laugh about behind the scenes. ellie’s demeanor never changed on or off camera. as months went on, during weigh in, press conferences, and a million other events, ellie never failed to make a snide comment. months later, abby’s animosity was festering. every meeting turned into a pissing match complete with swearing and the occasional low blow. there was now a deep seeded rivalry (read: hatred) between the two of them.  

your hair and makeup had taken longer than expected, which pushed your stylist back, and now your driver was waiting and more irritated than usual. this night was already a clusterfuck and you hadn’t even gotten to the venue yet. 

you: are yall coming out with me tn?

you: pls say yes or i’ll die actually

lynzee: ya my plane landed a couple hrs ago lmk when you’re leaving your little event

char: couldnt get a flight for tn but i’ll see u tmrwwww

cass: i’m omw to the hotel rn 

no matter how stressful this night was, rest assured you would be getting trashed with your friends and none of it would matter in the morning. you tuck your phone into your bag and step out of the car. like always, there were a million camera flashes directed at you. dozens of people calling your name, asking some trivial question or another. there was only one question you were told to answer. 

“what are you wearing tonight?” a female reporter shouted over the crowd. 

“maison margiela. head to toe, baby.” you blew a kiss and waved at the cameras. while that exchange only lasted for approximately 120 seconds, the walk from the car to the venue entrance shaved at least ten years off of your lifespan. 

you were escorted to your seat with a perfect vantage point of the octagon (and the numerous cameras set up throughout the stadium). these tickets had to have cost thousands of dollars. the crowd was going wild after the last fight that had apparently ended with a dislocated knee. you made a mental note to look up the replays later. 

you gasped when the woman who had occupied the spot next to you reclaimed her seat. “oh my god! holy shit!” 

it was one of the more popular female rappers in recent history. your glam team always played her music while getting you ready and you had grown to enjoy a few of her songs. the two of you chatted effortlessly, giggling and posing for pictures for passersby. 

“hold on, let me get one for my instagram story!” you take a quick selfie of the two of you making kissy faces at each other, captioning it with:

abby anderson’s #1 and #2 fan (i am NOT #2)

you tag her and she quickly reposts it, causing your notifs to go wild. not even 15 minutes later, one of the stadium cameras zoomed in on your face. you could see the little name card they put under your image. runway model was in bold beneath your name.

a man with a microphone, whom you recognize as one of the in house reporters, waltzes up to you in the stands. “it’s so nice seeing you here tonight. you look gorgeous as always.”

you force out your best exaggerated fake laugh. “thank you, thank you. i’m so happy to be here.”

“the people have one big question on their mind. who are you rooting for tonight?” he pauses before turning the microphone towards you. you watch as the large screen in the center of the stadium flashed to a screenshot of your post that was barely 20 minutes old. their social media interns are really on top of it tonight. “now, some people may say the answer is just a little obvious.” he finally turns the microphone in your direction. 

“you guys are really putting me on blast tonight, huh?” you giggle. “i’m here to watch anderson absolutely wash her competition. its no secret that i’m a really big fan. and,” you pause, trying to gauge how much you would regret uttering these words. management wanted cute, so you’d give it to them. “abby, if you see this and you’re into girls, my DMs are wide open.” 

the stadium roared in laughter and gasps and you had a strong suspicion that nobody was focused on your outfit anymore. 

meanwhile, abby is completely oblivious to the crowd and ruckus as isaac gives her words of encouragement as best as he could. he wasn’t quite an affectionate presence. 

“you get out there, and you beat that girl until she cannot stand up. you hear me?” 

abby nods. she closes her eyes and starts her deep breathing exercises that she always does right before a match. 

her eyes snap open when she hears her friend, nora, gasp. she’s scrolling on her phone with misplaced fervor. 

“what the fuck? don’t do shit like that!” abby shouts. she becomes mean before all of her matches. she’s normally a bit more graceful with her language and delivery. not by much, but the difference is noticeable. 

after a few moments of silence, abby speaks again with a slightly raised voice. “what the fuck is your deal?”

nora was used to abby’s behavior before a fight, given she was always there as ringside moral support. she completely ignored abby’s sour attitude and turned her phone towards the fighter. “this model shouted you out and now you’re trending on twitter. you’ve also gained, like, 10k on instagram in the last couple days.” 

abby was almost completely removed from social media. she didn’t know how to use it and hardly ever opened the app. her management team handled most of her socials, and she didn’t want it any other way. this was the first time she had ever heard your name. 

“wait, wait, you have to see this clip.” 

“nora get out of here if you’re gonna be a distraction!” isaac’s voice is stern and intimidating. she tunes him out and completely ignores his request. 

nora holds her phone in front of abby’s face and immediately her eyes grow wide. 

“abby, if you see this and you’re into girls, my DMs are wide open!” 

her whole face was suddenly hot. you had said it so coolly. the sweet little giggle you had let out. she wanted to watch the video on repeat just to see the way your lips formed each syllable. she had never considered her sexuality. not until right now, in this exact moment, minutes before she was due out in the ring. there was never any need to. her one and only relationship her entire life had been with a man and that had only recently ended.

she had to admit you were pretty. the longer she stared at your perfectly arranged features, maybe she could see herself—

“get that shit outta here, nora. i’m serious!” isaac’s voice cut through abby’s thoughts. nora rushed out of the room and up into the stands, taking her place in abby’s corner. 

the old man’s voice was eventually drowned out by the sound of her own rapidly beating heart. a runway model was interested in her? 

you were insanely out of her league. maybe if she had been more famous, more talented, she would feel like she had a shot. 

what was she even thinking? 

“focus!” isaac yelled a few inches away from her face. 

you were antsy in your seat waiting for the match to start. you had put your phone on do not disturb after your friends started rapidly sending messages in the groupchat. 

cass: girl wtf why would you say that on LIVE television 

lynzee: gay asf in 4k

all of a sudden, the music in the stadium cut and the announcer’s voice came over the loudspeaker. 

“and now, we have one of the most anticipated fights of the night! in one corner, we have ellie ‘stealth killer’ williams!” cheers erupted in the stadium as ellie strutted out towards the octagon, flanked by her trainer, joel miller. her head was held high, and as usual, she looked smug. she was the popular pick as tonight’s winner. 

“in the other corner, tonight’s underdog, abby anderson, the wolf of salt lake!” when abby came out, her furrowed brow and intense facial features immediately had you blushing. her skin tight black shorts that hugged her massive thighs and tiny sports bra left little to the imagination. all you could think about was placing sweet kisses along her biceps and chest, going lower and lower until her legs were slung over your shoulders for you to bury your face in her cunt and eat her out like it was the last meal you would ever be served. 

all abby could think about were all the eyes on her. a few boos came from the crowd, as was expected. sometimes, ufc fans got a little too enthusiastic. the ellie diehards were definitely in the stadium tonight. 

“ladies and gentlemen all across the world, it’s time!” the crowd chanted along with the announcer.

more importantly, you were in the stadium tonight. her self proclaimed number one fan. you had single handedly made her popularity skyrocket in only a few days’ time. she couldn’t disappoint you. even worse, it would be embarrassing for her to get her ass kicked publicly with you several feet away, catching every single second of it. so much was riding on this moment. 

isaac had stationed himself in her corner of the octagon and she could feel his eyes boring holes into the back of her head. before she knew it, she was in the center of the ring, touching gloves with her opponent. 

as soon as the round started, every single thought in her mind melted away. there was only one objective: beat the shit out of ellie williams. 

the first round was painful to watch. ellie was known for her quick jabs and light feet, the exact opposite of abby. she was big, burly, and punched hard. ellie dodged her punches beautifully, landing a few kicks and jabs of her own. a few moments before the round ended, ellie connected a nasty kick with abby’s nose. her blood smeared down her face and dripped onto the mat. luckily, she had one minute to recoup back in her corner with isaac. 

“all you have to do is outlast her. chill out, reserve that energy. she’ll run out of stamina eventually.” isaac’s voice was a lot calmer in comparison to his sharp tone earlier. 

nora busied herself with tenderly wiping blood off of abby’s face and whispering in her ear “you’re good. it doesn’t look broken.”

you had to admit, that was a little hot. 

god, you wished that was you. 

their sixty seconds ended and it was back into the ring. the second round wasn’t much better. abby had avoided a good amount of ellie’s strikes, but the ones she ate were downright ugly. if the fight were to go to judge’s decision right now, abby would certainly lose. she was going to do everything in her power to prevent that. all of abby’s wins came from knockouts or submissions. technicality was never her strong suit. her adrenaline was at an all time high. she needed to get back in there. one solid punch. that was all she needed. 

you were on the edge of your seat, much like everyone else in the stadium. 

judging by her movements, it was clear ellie was exhausted. her punches had less momentum. there was an obvious change in strategy: dodge everything and wait for the final round to end. abby noticed this and planned to capitalize off of it. there was a careful pattern to ellie’s movements. she just needed to exploit it.

the entire arena was captured in anxious silence. abby’s right fist had made an audible connection with ellie’s cheek. she fell straight back onto the mat and abby ran to straddle her and keep punching. while barbaric, it was necessary to establish a knockout. doesn’t mean abby didn’t get off on the feeling. watching your opponent drop to the ground like that was a high that was irreplaceable by any drug in the world. that feeling enveloped her tenfold knowing that this time, it was ellie williams. 

it only took a few seconds for the referees to intervene, declaring a clean, uncontested knockout. they had to peel abby off of ellie. both of their respective teams flooded the octagon, along with several interviewers. 

abby still hadn’t come to. her adrenaline had yet to bottom out. she looked like a deer in headlights as a half dozen people shoved cameras in her face. she couldn’t hear anything. not her team’s congratulations. not the crowd’s uproar.

“you came into this octagon as the sort-of new kid on the block. this is your first time as a headline fighter. is there anything you want to say to everyone after that absolutely beautiful knockout?”

this was the only question abby had thoroughly processed. 

“uh…” her voice was unsteady. “i wanna thank my dad, who always encouraged me to never stop fighting. thank you to my fans out there, whether you’ve been here from the very start of my career or you hopped on board an hour ago.”

was she talking about you and your post? the subtle mention nearly had you kicking your feet in the stands. 

“and thank you to ellie for being such a cunt, because i don’t think i would’ve been able to hit as hard without a burning desire to put your ass back on that mat.” 

the octagon erupts into shouting and swearing as a now conscious ellie started yelling inaudible insults. her trainer joined in on the ruckus creating quite the spectacle. abby geared up to scream back, but is quickly course corrected by isaac and nora leading her out of the ring and off camera. 

you cheered all the way up until the moment abby fluttered out of the public eye, shouting until your throat felt sore. now, it was time for you to make your great escape. no use in sticking around to see a bunch of men get maimed in the title fight. especially, when you can instead hang out with your best friends.

you: ok im leaving the venue. meet @ the club around 12?

lynzee: yesssss

the car was already waiting outside when you rushed away trying to avoid any cameras. “please go as fast as possible.” you instructed your driver.

abby was immediately ushered to the makeshift infirmary in the basement of the venue. three different people were inspecting her for any serious injuries while nora prepped ice packs for her. 

the adrenaline had her thoughts all over the place. above all the commotion, your words played on loop in her head. this was supposed to be a big moment for her. why were you overshadowing that? 

“can everyone get the fuck out? i just need 15 minutes of silence.” 

the medical team seemed hesitant, sharing concerned looks with both isaac and nora. 

“you heard her! file out!” isaac’s shout sent all of them running. 

quiet took over the room while abby tried to clear her mind. god, why couldn’t she rid her thoughts of you? 

she turned to nora “show me how to repost something on my instagram story.” 

nora’s eyebrows raised. “what do you mean?” 

“what do you mean ‘what do i mean’?” abby couldn’t even hold eye contact with her friend. shame and embarrassment had completely taken over. “that model you were talking about…i wanna respond, or whatever.” her attempt at being nonchalant was failing miserably.

“ohhh someone has a crush!” nora teased. “abby you know you can just dm–“

“it’s not like that! she just got me a lot of attention and i wanna thank her.” nora snickered. “can you just do what i’m asking, please? without the commentary.” abby knew regardless of what was said, nora would never let this go. “just tell me or i’ll get someone else to.” this was a lie. she could barely tolerate asking nora. 

“will i be getting paid for my duties as your social media manager?” 

“nora i’m fucking ser–“

“damn, you’d think you’d be in a better mood after this win.” nora pulled out her phone. “alright, what do you wanna say?”

it was nearing 1AM and you were drunker than you intended to be. some pretty brunette with a heavy spanish accent had bought you more than enough drinks at the bar. it wasn’t long until you found yourself in a dark corner of the club, bodies pressed together, tongues down each other’s throat. her hands roamed down your body, eventually resting at the curve of your ass. you couldn’t tell how much time had passed before a group of three girls came to retrieve their friend. she hands you her phone, a gesture you assumed was intended for you to leave her your number. you oblige, even though you doubt you would care enough to text her back in the morning. 

you attempted to sober up just enough to shuffle back to your friends on the dancefloor. every few seconds another person would brush by with an indecipherable “excuse me”, trying not to spill their drink. a few droplets of someone’s cocktails fell onto your bare arms, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. nothing mattered right now. 

lynzee leaned down, her mouth next to your ear, she practically had to shout “we’re going to the bathroom!”

she attempted to hold you up as the group of you shoved your way through the crowd. you took a long look at yourself in the mirror. a mix of lipstick belonging to you and the girl who’s name you don’t remember is smeared along your chin. 

lynzee snorts incredulously “damn girl, i see you were busy.” 

you couldn’t manage the multitasking of a response and redoing your makeup. all you could do was hum in vague affirmation.

cassidy busied herself with crushing a pill on the bathroom counter and lining it up with her metal amex card. 

“bitch, ew you’re gonna do that on the public bathroom counter?” you managed to drunkenly slur out. 

cassidy rolled her eyes and smacked her teeth. “i’ve done worse.” 

“okay well speed it up. we look hot, we need a pic.” lynzee spoke over the sounds of your friend’s deep inhales. 

after a few camera flicks and a slew of different poses, the three of you prepared to brave the dancefloor once again.

“lynz, send them in the groupchat. do it now because you always fucking forget.” it was getting harder by the second for you to string along coherent sentences.

you took a brief look down at your phone screen and a single notification caught your eye.

a.ander.son reposted your story

you stopped dead in your tracks. “hold the fuck on.” your fingers made quick work of unlocking your phone and opening instagram. abby never posted on her story. she barely even made regular posts. text was overlaid on your original picture.

thanks for all your support <3

your drunken delusions were building. of all people she shouted you out. she had to have seen the clip of you attempting to flirt. it was meant to be. she liked you back!

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” cassidy asked between sniffles as she rubbed at her nose. 

all you could do was turn your phone screen towards your friends. your excitement was more than evident.

lynzee rolled her eyes. “are you, like, 13? dude, if you wanna fuck her just dm her right now.” 

“it’s not like that! i mean, i do wanna fuck her, but i don’t wanna just fuck her.” against your better judgement, you go to her profile and click on the messages tab. “what do i even say?” you whine. it took you a few tries to make the message vaguely understandable, but after a while you decided to leave well enough alone. 

confrats on the win!! you look super hot even with blood on yoir face :P

after a match, win or lose, sleep always evaded abby. she had been devotedly researching you for the last couple hours. she had read and watched a multitude of interviews where you talk about your life and your accidental break as a model. she studied your runway walk and every magazine spread you had ever been in like there would be a test the very next day. 

of course she was attracted to you. who wouldn’t be? you’re a model. well, she wasn’t attracted to you. not in that way.

okay sure, she’d thought about kissing girls in the past, but it was always a fleeting concept . there was a time where she thought she had a crush on nora, but that’s just the way girl friends are, right? there was nothing there. they had just always been really close. 

but, she hardly knew you and for the last several hours all she could think about was kissing you. maybe she was just trying to move on from owen? trying to shift her perspective?

it's around 3AM when abby finally built up the courage to open the message. her heart raced as she read the line of text over and over. she tapped over to your instagram story (something nora had taught her to do earlier that day) and she sees a short video of you holding a very expensive bottle of liquor, pouring the liquid directly into the mouth of someone she could only assume to be a friend of yours. 

you’re holding the girl by the chin, looking down into her eyes. the sight makes abby’s throat constrict. she could only imagine being in her position. 

you holding her chin, head tilted back, mouth open, a string of spit exchanging between your mouths. the mere thought had her rubbing her thighs together, desperate for some reprieve. 

what the fuck was she thinking? 

that post was made hours ago, thus explaining the drunk text. there was no way you were anything near sober now. even if you weren’t, abby wasn’t quite sure how to respond to your text. instead, she locked her phone and decided to call nora bright and early the next morning.

well, abby didn’t know that read receipts were a thing. you and your friends were being driven to your hotel and you had been drunkenly babbling for the last half an hour.

“god, what if she’s not even gay?” tears began to well in your eyes as drunken theatrics took over. “i fucking embarrassed myself! i bet she’s laughing about it in a groupchat with her friends! that’s what we always do!” 

lynzee, being the most sober of your trio, pulls out a crumpled napkin from her purse and dabs the tears that are running down your face.

“you two don’t understand how embarrassing it is to flirt with a straight girl! it is so fucking hard to be gay around here!” you attempted to take deep breaths through choked sobs. “what if this is a sign that i should get back with my ex?”

“NO!” lynzee and cassidy practically scream in unison. 

cassidy deeply sighs with her hands over her eyes. “you’re hot. you can pull anyone you want. now, please calm down before you fuck up my high.” 

and for the rest of the ride you quietly sobbed while lynzee rubbed your back and attempted to console you with the occasional “it’ll be fine.”

you don’t remember getting up to your hotel room, so when lynzee shakes you awake you take a few extra seconds to take in your surroundings. 

“it’s 5PM. get up sleeping beauty.” she places a cold bottle of water and two painkillers into your hands. oh, how grateful you were for her right now.

the two of you order room service while lynzee recounts the events of the night to you. 

“there’s actually a video of you cry–“

“don’t fucking show me that! in fact, delete it right fucking now!” 

this reminds you of your drunk text to abby. you rush to pick up your phone from the nightstand, ignoring the low battery pop up. your heart is racing.

“can you see if she dmed me back? i can’t do it myself.” 

lynzee scoffs. “god you’re so dramatic.” you hear her tap the screen of your phone a few times. “oooo–“

“let me see!” you climb off the bed and rush to snatch your phone back.

there was, in fact, a text from abby that was sent around 9AM.

abby’s hands were shaking when she sent the message. nora had groggily listened to a condensed version of abby’s sexuality crisis for the better part of an hour. nora convinced her to just give the situation a try if she felt so strongly about you.

“imagine fumbling a model all because you’re terrified of being gay.” nora was trying her hardest to keep abby in line. deep down, she wanted this for abby so she’d shut the fuck up about owen. “if you think you like her, just go on a date. if it doesn’t work, no harm, no foul.”

that finally convinced abby to just send the message. when she read it back to nora, she could only groan.

a.ander.son: i’ll be in vegas for the next week if you wanted to get dinner?

a.ander.son: or we can do something else?

a.ander.son: this is my first time here so i’m not really sure what people do around here haha

“it sounds like you’re inviting her to a business meeting, not a date. that wasn’t flirty at all!” 

“should i send another–“

“no!” nora quickly exclaimed. “then you’ll look desperate. just wait for her to respond.”

she did just that for a few hours. it was nothing short of agonizing. finally, exhaustion put her out of her misery and she managed to get a few hours of sleep.

sadly, this was your last night in vegas. you had a flight to new york tomorrow afternoon to prepare for your runway appearance for fashion week. there was no way you would have your shit together in the next hour or two to make it to dinner either. 

you: srry i just woke up!! 

you: me & my friends are going to a penthouse party tn if you wanna pull up? we’ll prob be there around 11ish? you can be my +1 :)

the sound of her phone buzzing tore abby from her sleep. she wasted no time unlocking her phone and reading your message. she hadn’t ever been to a real party before. in the one semester of college she had completed she was invited to a frat party alongside owen and lasted about twenty minutes before she became overwhelmed and left. he hadn’t even bothered to walk her home. 

she could tell this party would be drastically different. this wasn’t a bunch of college kids. it was likely a bunch of b-list celebrities and nepo babies. abby wasn’t anywhere near notable enough to hang with that crowd. 

but, she needed to see you. who knows the next time you’ll be free? much less in the same city as her. 

a.ander.son: ok sounds fun. i can meet you there?

you squealed in excitement and flopped back against your bed. ultimately, she would be your fourth plus one which would be pushing it if the guy hosting the party, some wannabe actor who’s dad is a prominent movie producer, hadn’t been begging for attention in your dms for the last several months. apparently, he didn’t believe you were gay. hopefully this would put his advances to rest. 

abby called nora five times before she answered. 

“what is it now? i was in the shower.” 

“i have–“ abby glanced at her phone screen to check the time. “less than six hours to figure out an outfit for a penthouse party.” her thoughts were racing while she thought about every single detail of the night. “i didn’t pack anything fancy. god, and she’s gonna be dressed in designer–” 

“take a deep breath, anderson.” there’s some shuffling on the line and abby hears the shower water turn off. “we’ve got a couple hours before shops close. we’ll find you something.”

it took a few hours and several shops to curate a suitable outfit for abby. a black linen button down that she purposely left unbuttoned halfway down to expose the perfect amount of her chest. a pair of tight fitting khaki slacks gripped her ass in the best way possible. the last, and arguably most important, piece of the outfit was a thin gold chain with a small wolf pendant attached to it that sat along the exposed skin of her chest. nora took the time to gel down and neatly plait abby’s hair. everything about her appearance had to be perfect. 

it was nearing the meet up time and abby was running on max three hours of sleep. nora had abandoned her in favor of getting some sleep back in her hotel room. the feelings of anxiety and sleep deprivation were blending into this miserable haze of unending thought. she checked her phone every time it buzzed. 

you: what’s your addy? i’ll send a car for you

you: gotta ride separately with my besties

you: just tell the dude at the door that youre with me

it didn’t take long for the driver to arrive after she sent the text with her address. the man didn’t bother turning back to look at her before speeding off. the whole ride, abby feverishly texted nora with updates. 

nora: just take a couple shots it’ll make everything better!! have fun babe <3

when the car stopped abby was met with the sight of a twenty story building towering over her. the lobby area was well furnished with couches, a crystal chandelier light fixture, gold framed paintings, and roman-esque pillars. there was a lone man waiting downstairs. he was tall, bald, buff, and staring at her like she was the scum of the earth. if she hadn’t been trained as a professional fighter she would imagine his gaze would spark some semblance of fear.

“uh, i’m here for the party, i guess?”

he didn’t speak a word until she uttered your name and showed off the text thread between both of you. 

“follow me.” the hulking man led her towards a glass elevator and her heart immediately dropped. the elevator was spacious, but all at once she felt claustrophobic. she had to make a concerted effort to steady her breathing. every second felt like an hour as the elevator ascended past all twenty floors. she busied her mind and hands texting you

a.ander.son: i think i’m here? i’m going up in the elevator

when the elevator finally opened she was met with an unfathomable amount of people. this had to be a fire code violation. the music was too loud and there were at least a hundred voices trying to shout over it. the claustrophobic feeling came back and was ten times worse.

there were two separate stories to the penthouse. the second story was a closed in space that overlooked the bottom floor. people had crowded along the stairs and were packed in on the awning. the modified kitchen and lounge area was swimming with people, all seemingly crowded around the bar towards the kitchen area. towards the back of the first floor were huge glass panels from floor to ceiling. she could see the terrace outfitted with a huge pool and a full service bar. 

people were shoving past her with nary an “i’m sorry” or “excuse me”. 

where the hell were you? 

before she could gather her bearings she was approached by a clearly drunk man. 

“holy shit!” he slurred. “you’re that hot ufc girl! ”

all abby could spare was a half-hearted awkward laugh. “yeah, i guess.”

“bro, can i get a pic? my friends won’t believe you’re here!” before she could reply he was already moving in, placing an arm around his shoulder. “dude, you beat the shit out of williams yesterday.” he flagged down his friend who already had a camera ready. she was wholly unprepared when the flash went off. 

she hoped that wouldn’t be posted anywhere. 

“oh my god, will you move?” somehow abby could hear your voice over the deafening music and chatter of the party guests. 

you scoffed, clearly disgusted by the man in your vicinity. “get away from her, travis. she’s not gonna fuck you.” you gave the man a light shove, sending him stumbling backwards. “now fuck off!”

everything around her melted away. abby was completely in awe. your skin was glowing, hair perfectly groomed, dressed to the nines. she felt horribly underdressed next to you. 

your squeal brought her back to reality. “holy shit, you actually came!” overcome with excitement, you threw your arms around her. the smell of your perfume made abby shudder. 

she wanted you so bad.

“i’m such a big fan!” you went on. “i’ve been following your career for, like, forever.” finally you released her from the hug and immediately abby missed your warmth. “wait, is that weird to say?”

“no, no, i dont think its weird.” abby reassures you. it’s not like she hadn’t spent several hours last night researching your entire life. “it's nice to finally meet you. you look really pretty.” she felt like a fucking dork. this was like an eighth grade dance. except everyone was really famous, in their 20s, and people were snorting mysterious powders off the bartop.

“you look overwhelmed. is this your first big party?” 

how was she failing so miserably at fitting in? 

“is it that obvious?” 

you intertwined your fingers and began to drag her through the crowd. “don’t worry, a drink will fix everything.” you plowed through the crowd until the two of you were on the terrace. “i can also probably find you any drug of your choice…pretty much anything.”

“no, no. i’m good. i get drug tested regularly before my matches.”

you nod in acknowledgement. how had you not thought of that?

“honestly, i don’t even really drink. my trainer is pretty strict.” 

you gasp in surprise. “oh shit, you should’ve said something! i wouldn’t have invited you to a function with a bunch of sloppy drunk wannabes and b-listers.”

“no, its okay! i’m glad i got to tag along!” abby would’ve met you anywhere you requested. she would follow you to hell if it meant she could talk to you for a little longer. “i’ll have a couple drinks with you.”

abby smiles when your face brightens. “yay!” 

you shoved your way through the crowd without a care in the world. a few people yelled a greeting at you, but you didn’t spare a passing glance. whilst being dragged, abby noticed a few of them eyeing her up and down. some of the looks had a predatory vibe, like they were waiting for a moment to devour her whole. the rest of them gazed at her in confusion, perhaps trying to place where they would know her from. all of it made her want to crawl into a ball and die on the spot. this was nothing like being in the octagon. it didn’t even compare. 

abby doesn’t notice when you stop moving and runs into you, making you practically topple over. before you can fall too far, she gently pulls you by the hand, her other arm bracing you to prevent any impact. 

abby parts her lips to apologize, but you speak before she can. “that was smooth, anderson. and kinda hot.”

suddenly, her words failed her. 

you lean across the bar and hail over the poor bartender who is clearly up to his neck in drink orders.

you look over your shoulder at abby. “what do you want?”

she didn’t even know the names of cocktails. even if she did, everything had left her brain as soon as you took her hand. “whatever you’re having, i guess?”

“two shots of tequila. salt and lime, pretty please. and none of that bottom shelf shit!”

abby found your mannerisms nothing short of adorable. judging you solely from your interviews, she would’ve never guessed you were this brash in person. you were much softer when faced with the public. it was almost jarring. 

“okay, this is good shit so it shouldn’t be too bad going down. ” you finally released abby’s hand to deliver her shot to her, a salt shaker in your other hand. “lick the back of your hand.”  

abby did as she was instructed and you shook a small line of salt onto the wet trail of spit. the entire time you held eye contact with her. the whole ordeal felt oddly intimate.

“salt first, shot, then lime, ‘kay?” 

she followed your lead and downed the shot. she tried so hard to steady her resolve, but her face gave her away. with the lime in her mouth she watched as your hand raised to thumb off small remnants of salt at the corner of  her mouth. the feeling of your freshly done nails grazing her skin made goosebumps raise. 

immediately after, your phone vibrates in your purse and you peek at the message. 

lynzee: bitch you will never guess whos here…

the next message is a photo that you tap to open. you can’t keep yourself from groaning aloud. it was your ex that you had been crying about the night prior. the last thing you wanted tonight was to see her. she tormented you with the whole on again off again thing for years. anytime you saw each other in a setting like this, she somehow always made it in your pants at the end of the night. you were trying so hard to shut the door on that chapter of life.

“you alright?” abby quickly noticed the change in your demeanor. 

you were doing everything in your power not to scream. “yeah. one of my evil exes is here.” 

“one of? you have a lot of evil exes then?” abby hoped that didn’t come off as rude. she was trying to lighten the mood. 

it does get a laugh out of you. “more than you’d think. we actually just broke up for good.” you let your words sit in the air for a few seconds before you felt the need to clarify. “well, not just, it was like six months ago.” 

you huffed. “it’s hard being in the industry. everyone’s tirelessly trying to dig dirt up on you. friends, family, paparazzi. everyone’s telling a different story about my life and my relationships and she just feeds into it.” here you were talking about your ex with a girl you were trying so hard to fuck. “god, she’s such a fucking bitch.”

“yeah, me and my ex boyfriend broke things off a couple months ago. he told me i was putting my career before him, but i found out he was fucking some other girl while we were dating. i’m pretty sure they’re together now.” abby shrugged. “it didn’t really hurt. i guess i hadn’t had feelings for him for a while.” she was starting to regret getting this personal. 

“so…” finally, you could address the elephant in the room. “ex boyfriend…we never really broached the subject.” the drinks in your system were making this conversation bearable. “i’m sure you saw that really embarrassing situation on tik tok.”

abby had no clue what you were talking about, but she let you go on.

“and the stuff i said right before your match. i didn’t know if this was a date, or if we were just hanging out, or if you even like girls…” you cut yourself off before you could keep rambling on. 

abby was trying so hard not to think about it. she was shit at flirting and hadn’t been on a real date in ages. “if you want it to be a date, then it can be?” she sounded far more unsure of herself than she intended to. how do you tell the girl you’re on a date with that this was her first time being on a date with a girl. even in this moment she was confused about her sexuality.

“can i be really lame for a second?”  you slid the two shot glasses back onto the bar. without waiting for a response you continued speaking. “can i get a picture? i know people have been asking you that all night, but i know my followers will find it funny.” you sighed. “well, its actually mostly for me. kind of cool to meet your idols, ya know?”

idol? abby wasn't sure on whether she should be flattered or embarrassed.

abby was almost thankful you gave her something else trivial to think about. 

but, she was terrified of being photographed next to you. you looked a million times better than she did right now. she didn’t even know how to pose and you were a model. what was meant to be a cute exchange, was turning into a nerve wracking experience. 

while you fiddled with your phone, abby busied herself with brushing a few wispy hairs that had escaped her braid behind her ears. 

“cass!” you hailed over a girl that was the visual definition of ‘lights are on, but no one’s home’. her pupils were wide and she practically skipped over. “jesus christ, cass.” you rolled your eyes. “just take this picture for me.”

you stepped back against the glass balcony railing and waved abby towards you. she took a couple hesitant steps before the dizziness and nausea took over. even from several feet away she could see the busy city street thousands of feet below. all she could think about was the glass shattering and her collapsing over the railing.

“are you scared of heights?” your voice broke abby from her trance.

she couldn’t verbally admit that to you. a girl who beats people into submission for a living is afraid of heights? that’s embarrassing. 

you could tell by the way her face paled that she was terrified. “hey,” you take her hand and pull her close, her chest flush with your back. “just don’t look down, babe.”

abby’s eyes snapped back to cassidy who was lining up the shot. she took at least a dozen photos from different angles and the whole time abby stood like a statue. when she’s finally done, cass practically shoves your phone back in your hands and turns on her heel to prance off once more. 

“have fun…make good choices!” she calls back before disappearing into the crowd. 

“that one of your friends?” abby asked whilst watching the girl skip off.

“yeah, that’s cassidy. she’s not really all there, but we love her anyways. you should meet my friends sometime.”

from there you and abby spent a ridiculous amount of time idly chatting over a couple more drinks and you were all over her. the clarification that this was in fact a date meant you had to turn up the charm. there was no way you were leaving this party without her in tow. 

you were in a horrendous sex drought and all that had to change tonight. 

you never let go of her hand, not even for a second. abby finally gathered the confidence to wrap her free arm around your waist, keeping your chest pressed against her’s. this killed two birds with one stone. you knew your closeness would make its way back to your ex, keeping her at least three yards from you at all times, and you got to be the eye candy of the woman you’d had a schoolgirl crush on for the last year. 

as time went on and the alcohol took over, abby started to get a little more personal with her responses and (thankfully) more charismatic. she told you she ended up pursuing ufc after her father put her in boxing classes when she was younger. there were never any real opponents, just learning form and endurance. even then, her coach told her she had natural talent. with him being a neurologist, he was hesitant to let it escalate to real matches. this was hands down one of the worst professions to get into if you wanted to keep a working brain past age 35. alas, he couldn’t tell his daughter no. especially because he knew she would’ve done it anyway with or without his support. he served as her ring side doctor every match and died shortly before she went pro. 

you knew all of this after being obsessed with her ever since her debut, but hearing the story in person made you want to sob. 

“sorry. i didn't mean to kill the vibe.” 

you shook your head “no, no! it’s okay.”

naturally, you got into your backstory and how you got into modeling. the story was actually almost embarrassing if you thought about it too long. you were really popular on tumblr during your teenage years and accidentally became one of those “aesthetic blog” it girls. a la joanna kuchta and barbie ferreira. you were invited to do a small shoot for a big brand and slowly fought your way to the top. now, you do editorial magazine covers and could walk the runway in your sleep.

despite her research, this was something abby didn’t know. you always told the story slightly differently during interviews. 

before she can get another thought out, your lips were pressed against hers. she shuddered, unsure of what to do with her hands or any part of her body. she could taste the tequila and hint of lime that the two of you had shared together earlier. she wasn’t expecting this to have happened so publicly. there were dozens of people around, at least half of them were likely staring. that wouldn’t ruin this moment for abby. this kiss was all that had been on her mind (and yours quite frankly) from the moment that she saw that clip of you jokingly flirting with her before the match. 

your chest was pressed against her’s and abby slowly moved to wrap her arm around your waist. for a moment you broke the kiss and eyed the crowd to the side of you. “sorry. i saw my ex walking over and didn’t want you to have to sit through that screaming match. but” your facial expression softened, a sheepish smile spreading across your lips. “i also did just want to kiss you, so it was a perfect excuse.” 

“you definitely didn’t need to apologize.” abby was more than happy to serve as an ex deterrent. it was everything she dreamed of and more. 

you take the comment as the go ahead to lean in to kiss her again. you wrap your arms around her neck as she presses her body against yours, the pendant on her necklace pressing into your skin. you needed to be infinitely closer to her. her arm wraps tighten around your waist, abby craving that same closeness. you softly whimpered against her lips before breaking the kiss that lasted long enough for your friends to have taken note and give you a thumbs up from afar. you looked at abby through your lashes and laced your fingers between hers. 

“follow me.” without even giving her a moment to process, you were dragging her behind you and up the stairs through a door.

you shove past some people and hop a couch that was meant to be blocking off the hallway towards the bedrooms. you knew better, though. you round a corner and approach a door, pulling on the knob and feeling no resistance. “dumbass never locks his door.” you slid past the threshold of the room, pulling abby in with you. 

the bedroom was huge, featuring a california king bed, with coats piled atop it, an impossibly large television mounted on the wall, an impossible number of racks of clothing, and a dark wood nightstand next to the bed with an array of pills, both crushed and uncrushed adorning the surface.

“who’s room is this?”

you gave a dismissive wave. “the asshole who's hosting. he’s been trying to get me in his bed for months. kinda ironic, honestly.”

did this mean you were going to–

“can you take my shoes off for me?” you ask as you plop down onto the white duvet covering the bed. like an obedient dog, abby immediately dropped to her knees and began undoing the straps and sliding them off your feet. she also took the time to slide off her shoes and leave them next to yours. 

you lean back against the bed, looking up at her. abby’s heart was beating so fast she worried it would give out altogether. she had never done this before and the lingering fear of disappointing you was weighing down her body. 

“well, dont get shy now.” you whisper. “or are you scared of me?” 

abby bit into her cheek, shaming herself for allowing her face to give her hesitance away. she wanted this so badly, but didn’t know where to start. 

you could tell by the blush on her cheeks and the way she was awkwardly shifting back and forth between both feet that she likely had no clue what she was doing. maybe you were jumping to conclusions. maybe, she was overwhelmed by the idea of fucking a literal model. 

but, you could smell a baby gay from a mile away. 

you beckoned her over. “come here. lay down, let me take care of you first.” once again, abby did exactly as she was told. she was entranced by the soft sounds of your voice. you could tell her to jump off a bridge and she would happily do so. 

abby took your spot, leaned back against the bed, legs hanging off the edge. you pressed tender kisses along her neck and collarbones while you slowly undid the button and zipper on her pants. abby was trying to play it cool, but you certainly knew better. you slid down onto your knees, the carpeted floor sure to leave some marks by the time you were done here. with some help from abby you eased off her pants and her underwear beneath them. 

“i wouldn’t typically skip right to the main event, but…” you held a hand up, showcasing your sharp acrylic nails. abby got the picture. “let me know if you want me to stop, okay?” 

abby nods with a barely audible “okay” before you position her legs over your shoulders. the feeling of the tip of your nose and lips moving along her inner thighs has her barely able to breathe. your teeth graze along her sensitive skin and her body betrays her when she lets out a whimper. 

by the time your tongue makes contact with her clit she’s already wet and aching. the way your tongue circles around the bundle of nerves allows abby’s body to finally release the built up tension, something you can immediately feel. the careful flicks of your tongue makes her a whimpering mess. she knew no one would be able to hear her over the music, but there was still something so weirdly shameful about being this eager. 

you look up at her briefly, your mouth and chin shiny after burying your face in her cunt. “aw, you look so cute like this.” 

abby could’ve came right there. 

after the comment, you went right back to work. you’re being agonizingly slow on purpose. all for her validation. all so she can tell you through breaths of desperation that she needs more. 

“fuck that’s—” she hisses at the feeling of your lips parting to suck on her clit. “you’re…really good.” she’s trying so hard to keep her thoughts straight while she’s being undone by you. 

you pick up the pace a bit and abby instinctively bucks her hips against your tongue. she whines your name and you’re filled with a renewed sense of desire. slowly abby grows louder and has to bite into the heel of her palm just to smother the noise. you’re committed to going as long as she needed you to. even longer if she’d let you. 

but, abby couldn’t last much longer. the feeling in her lower abdomen had her practically begging for release. “i think i’m gonna cum.” she hoped you would hear her strained whisper. she absolutely didn’t have it in her to repeat herself. 

she assumes you get the message when the flicks of your tongue get faster and your grip on her thighs becomes tighter. 

all at once, her orgasm hits her. again, the palm of her hand is flush against her mouth while she rides the intense wave of pleasure. you don’t stop until you’re sure she’s all the way through it. 

she had never felt an orgasm like this before. in fact, she could count on one hand how many times owen had actually made her cum. he was never this attentive or gentle. or maybe you were just ungodly skilled? either way, she was more than happy to leave that wet spot on the duvet of whoever’s room this was.  

when you stood and crawled on top of her, abby was still trying to regain feeling in her lower half. without words, your lips capture her’s and once again she starts to feel a heat pool between her legs. the taste of her on your lips is almost intoxicating. she needed to stay like this forever. 

you let out a sing-songy “my turn.” 

abby felt like she learned enough from you to finally be able to take on this task. it couldn’t be that hard. right?

the doorknob jiggles. both of you swiftly turn to the bedroom door. 

you roll your eyes. “just ignore it. probably some girl who had too much to drink and needs a place to throw up.” 

then, there was a series of loud knocks. you sigh in defeat. the vibe was officially killed.

you both rush to put your clothes back on and look vaguely presentable before you walked back out into the sea of people. when you opened the door there’s a man you only vaguely recognize. he looks the two of you over and it seems to click that he was definitely interrupting something. 

“do you know where luke is?” he could barely stand and it was apparent that the question required all three of his brain cells to be hard at work. 

you scoff. “how the fuck should i know?” without another word you’re hopping back over the couch barrier to make it to the main area of the penthouse. you walk hand in hand with abby, attempting to make your way back to the terrace. 

over the music, you hear someone scream your name. you come face to face with charlotte and she waves you over. 

“we need to get cassidy in the car back to the hotel, like, now. she’s throwing up over the railing of the terrace. can you grab her some water?” there was an urgent tone in her voice so you knew it was time to say your goodbyes. 

“well. duty calls.” you breathed out a deep sigh. the universe seemingly didn’t want to see you orgasm tonight. 

“i have to get home anyways. i haven’t exactly slept since the match.” 

you kiss her one last time. “let me give you my number!” she hands you her phone and lets you type in those ten digits she had completely forgotten to ask for. “text me whenever you're not busy training or whatever. i’ll fly out to you, wherever you are.”

when you handed the phone back and waved goodbye, she looked down at the contact and smiled at the little pink heart you had put next to your name.

the only reason this got posted was bc i realized it would never feel "finished" so i guess this is just an introduction to any nonsense i want to write about them later

kisses to everyone who actually slogged through this <3

[ghostsirensworld]

may I request another Luffy x fem reader please. Where Luffy is always picking up y/n like anywhere and everywhere they go (they aren’t dating or anything yet either) and he’s just always carrying her. Maybe even one day she’s wearing a skirt and so she freaks out when Luffy goes to grab her but Luffy holds her skirt down while carrying her. I don’t know I feel like it would be cute. Thank you!

i forgot i write HELP but ofc!

TW: use of y/n, bad writing? ooc luffy?

childhood friends, jealous!luffy

Luffy x Reader: "Carried Away"

The sun was shining brightly on the Thousand Sunny, the crew spread across the deck, doing their usual tasks and enjoying the breeze. You were lounging near the edge, your feet dangling lazily as you enjoyed a rare moment of peace. For once, there were no urgent adventures or chaos, just the sound of waves and the hum of the ship’s sails.

"Y/N!!"

Of course, that peace didn’t last long. You knew that voice all too well. You didn’t even have to turn around before you could feel the ground rumbling under the weight of an incoming force.

Before you knew it, you were hoisted into the air. Luffy had, as always, picked you up out of nowhere.

"Woah!" you yelped, surprised, but not shocked anymore. You were used to this by now. Luffy, your childhood friend, had a habit of just… picking you up whenever he felt like it.

"Let’s goooo!" Luffy cheered, his usual infectious grin spread across his face as he swung you up on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Luffy! I swear, you’re impossible!" You crossed your arms over your chest, trying not to laugh even though you were already used to being carried around like this.

"I’m just helping!" Luffy said innocently, his free hand patting his stomach. "You’re so light, Y/N! It’s fun!"

You sighed but didn’t make much of an effort to struggle. You had grown up together, after all. From the days in Fuschia Village, when Luffy was always running wild and dragging you along on his crazy adventures, to now—he’d always been this way. Playful, spontaneous, and completely without any sense of personal space.

You were just about to tell him to put you down when Luffy started walking towards the galley.

"Hey, I’m hungry!" he said, as though it was the most obvious reason to drag you along. "You can’t be busy, right? Come eat with me!"

"I’m not your personal carrying service, Luffy!" you said, half-laughing, half-glaring at him. "But fine, I’m coming with you!"

It was just easier that way. But then, as you glanced down at your outfit—a simple skirt and blouse—you suddenly realized something.

"Luffy!" you gasped, your eyes widening. "Wait, wait, wait!"

Before you could stop him, Luffy went to grab your legs to adjust his hold on you. And as he did, you felt the skirt of your outfit shift, and your heart dropped into your stomach. You weren’t wearing anything under your skirt—well, other than your underwear, but that was still something to be cautious about!

"Luffy, stop!" you frantically pulled down your skirt, but as soon as he noticed your distress, he froze.

"Huh? What’s wrong, Y/N?" Luffy asked, still completely oblivious.

"My skirt—!" you trailed off, fumbling to hold it down and trying to cover your modesty.

"Oh!" Luffy’s eyes lit up with sudden understanding, and instead of letting you squirm, he carefully used one hand to hold the hem of your skirt in place. He adjusted his grip, still holding you securely, but this time he made sure your skirt stayed in place.

"Is this better?" Luffy asked, his big, goofy grin back on his face.

You blinked in surprise, feeling your face warm up. Luffy had always been clueless, but he was somehow sweet in his own way. You couldn’t help but be grateful that he wasn’t intentionally embarrassing you further.

"I swear, Luffy, you’re impossible," you muttered, trying to hide your flustered expression.

"I’m sorry, Y/N! But look! I’m holding your skirt down, so it’s okay now, right?" Luffy said, looking incredibly proud of himself.

You let out an exasperated laugh, your face still slightly flushed. "Yeah, sure… just don't go picking me up like that in front of the crew."

"Ohhh, I can totally pick you up whenever I want!" Luffy grinned wider, clearly not taking your warning seriously.

You sighed, half amused and half exasperated by his antics. "You really don’t know how to act around me sometimes, huh?"

Luffy gave you an innocent shrug. "What can I say? You’re my best friend! You’re just too fun to carry!"

And there it was again—the simplicity of your friendship, the carefree bond you shared that had started all those years ago when you two were just kids running around the village. Luffy may have been reckless, a little clueless, and definitely impulsive, but he never meant any harm. It was just how he was.

As you looked up at him—his goofy, infectious smile that had never changed since childhood—you realized, despite everything, this was just how things were between you two. You didn’t need to be dating to share this kind of bond. Maybe, just maybe, Luffy didn’t realize it, but he was already carrying your heart in his goofy, unintentional way.

"Alright, alright. But next time, no picking me up in front of everyone," you added, giving him a playful nudge.

Luffy nodded, grinning ear to ear. "You got it, Y/N!"

As he turned to head toward the kitchen, you couldn’t help but shake your head. There was no one quite like Luffy.

And maybe, just maybe, you liked it that way.

[ceesimz]

Her Perfect Delusion

She's carefully curated the perfect lie, and you're at the centre of it.

There’s one thing about life that you don’t quite understand; how fast you can go from loving someone to hating them.

Those two things are a phenomenon that have coexisted together since the start of humankind, though it’s a hard thing for most people to accept. They’re arguably the two strongest feelings, there’s no choice in experiencing them, they come when they’re least wanted. What are you supposed to do when they occur at the same time?

When you first read that text message, the one that kept you up at night and has done for two weeks, it was as if you were the rope in an endless game of tug-of-war, being pulled back and forth relentlessly by an angel and a devil, by the resentment and longing that fought it out in your mind, each pulling with an equally unbearable amount of force. It prevented you from deciphering your true feelings, only making the whole situation a hundred times worse. 

You hated her, with every fibre of your being, yet you couldn’t shake that godforsaken, overwhelming, self-sacrificial pit of love that refused to leave your heart. Your own organs, both your heart and your mind, were entranced by her, betraying your own common sense to despise her and forget her. 

We can’t tell the team yet. I will pick you up tomorrow morning and we will carry on as normal.

That was it. No other explanation, no clarification, no mercy. 

It came mere minutes after she walked out of your apartment when she had broken up with you. Apparently she had the guts to end your year-long relationship in a heartbeat, but was too much of a coward to give you any say in person about telling your friends. 

And you followed her instructions wordlessly.

How could you ignore her, forget her, hate her, love her, when even after she had broken up with you, she forced herself into your life with no care in the world? 

Part of you thought something was wrong with her, because for a while now, you hadn’t recognised her as the woman you loved. Her breaking up with you just solidified that – she was completely unrecognisable. The sympathetic, caring side of you which she once adored, it craved to wrap her up in your arms, lead her back to bed, and talk for hours as the sun set and subsequently rose until you figured out what was going on inside her mind. Before you got together, you spent far too long trying to unlock that side of her. Maybe you never truly saw it in the first place.

You refused to leave the club, even though staying would mean seeing her almost everyday. Alexia might be Barça, but it was your club too. Your family too. Whether you were overstaying your welcome or not, you weren’t about to let a failed attempt to build a life with someone else stop you from keeping a life for yourself. Barcelona was home. Alexia had been too, you weren’t about to lose two at once.

If you told people, you would be alone. It was Alexia’s club before you joined. Your friends were her friends before she introduced you. Barcelona was Alexia’s home before it was yours. There wasn’t a part of you that doubted she’d turn the whole of Catalunya on you if everybody knew the true state of your relationship.

So the morning after that text, you clambered into her car, a suffocating, thick silence seated in the car with you both, and that was that. Weeks passed before you without even realising it. The hate wore off and the love only got stronger.

Every morning for training, she picked you up, you walked in together, feigned smiles on your faces that physically hurt deep in your chest. With Alexia, you had given her thousands, if not millions, of genuine, joy-filled smiles. All you were left with was tear-filled eyes instead, drowning in the love lingering, blinking them away near enough every second you spent with her. 

It took far too much force to withhold the smile, though it soon became second nature. You got a routine down with her, and you were so focused on keeping up the act, you trained on auto-pilot. The scaffolding it required to pin the smile to your face was heavy, and it was like one strong gust of wind, one act of affection that brought back a whirl of memories, whether that be an arm around your shoulders or a kiss to your cheek, was all it would take to knock the bars out and let it all come crumbling down. Perhaps that would be for the best.

Just a shame you were in too deep to realise that.

“You guys want to come over for dinner tonight?” Irene asked from Alexia’s left. You were on the captain’s right, hands swinging between you. It was the image of happiness, of how soft your love had once been, though that was merely a figment of the past. A piece of your heart you’ll never get back, a piece Alexia held onto and flaunted in your face with how she held onto your hand, and you simply let her.

“We have plans already, no?” Alexia turned to you, a look in her eyes that had you agreeing easily. You didn’t have the strength to verbalise your willingness to fall at Alexia’s feet once more, so you settled for a nod.

“Ah, a shame. Another time.” Irene smiled, a genuine one that you envied. 

God, how pathetic. To envy someone over a smile.

“Por supuesto.” Alexia confirmed, waving at her friend as she made her way to her own car. 

Like always, you put your bag in the trunk of her car, and climbed into the passenger side. As you did everyday, with no complaints. Why didn’t you complain? Is that really how weak you are?

“What are you doing on Saturday?” Alexia asked you this time, her lips in a thin line as she reversed out of the parking space. Her voice was cold, stern, distant, completely devoid of the gentleness she once addressed you with. She almost didn’t sound like Alexia. 

“Um, nothing I think, I don’t h-”

“Good. You will come to dinner with me and my family.” 

It was a demand, not a question, not an invite. The shy, heart-warming excitement she spoke with when she asked you to join her family for dinner for the first time didn’t even feel like something that had once happened anymore. It was such a contrast from that treasured memory, you had to cover your mouth to stop the sob that wanted to suddenly escape.

However, that heartbreak of a reminder wasn't even the main thing on the forefront of your mind at that moment. Instead, all you could focus on was the fact she hadn’t told her family yet. This wasn't part of this fucked up ordeal.

There was no way, in good conscience, that you could look her mother in the eye and lie to her. 

“You haven’t told your family about us?” You said in an insecure voice, chancing it and looking over at her. There was no need; she wore the same expression she had adorned since the breakup, one of stoicism and carelessness. One that exuded control, one which relished in that fact.

“Do not start. Do not pick a fight right now.” Was all she replied, and if there were ever two statements to sum up the state of your relationship, it was those. 

Her hands clutched the steering wheel tighter, her nostrils flared in frustration with her lips pursed into a thin line, meanwhile you cowered into your seat like a scolded child. Throughout this whole situation, each day Alexia had slowly beaten down your confidence, a piece of your self-esteem cracking and falling away with every word that she spoke. You were losing yourself in the process, and having already lost the other half of your soul in your break-up, you didn’t know if you would survive any longer. 

There had been one fight so far, but Alexia refused to let it happen again. Any time you showed the slightest bit of disagreement, she’d say something that would silence you in an instant. You knew it was unfair, and toxic. You didn’t do anything about it though. Of course you didn't.

“I’ll pick you up at eight. It’s at my Mami’s house. You will not say a word about us, you understand?” She pressed sternly, glancing away from the road for a second to give you a piercing glare. It only provoked that pit of nausea that cruelly reminded you of your current position every time it made an appearance. 

“I understand.” You whispered in a voice that Alexia knew too well; there was a lump in your throat that you had to fight past to speak.

This time, when she turned to look at you, you swore you saw a hint of regret in her eyes. Before you could get your hopes up though, she was focused on the road in front of her again, brows furrowed and her usual frown on her face. 

You got a physical break from her the next day, but not a mental one. A two day respite had been given to the team, the Friday and the Saturday, and you loathed them. You cursed yourself for that, because why could you find issue with time off but not the vicious cycle you found yourself in? 

Every second of that Friday was spent in bed, submerged by a blanket that faintly smelled like her, in your bedroom that was still decorated as if someone loved you, with pictures all around and traces of small details which only existed as a result of being wholly adored, like you once had been. They were glimpses of the past, evidence of the affection you had a taste of, yet had been pulled away just as the disbelief began to wear off.

Even a year down the line, you were just waiting for the other shoe to drop. From the moment you met her, the moment she asked you out on a date with her voice trembling and her hands fidgeting, you were in a near constant state of disbelief. Never in your life did you picture yourself in such an idyllic relationship, with a woman not even your wildest dreams could have imagined. Maybe you were right to cling onto your insecurities, because in the end it did turn out to be too good to be true.

As a matter of fact, it had been your heart that was dropped, shattering into fragments too small to be fixed back together. Instead, you were shoved to the side and thrown to the floor like a child that lost interest in a toy. Even still, Alexia didn’t have the same emotional maturity that a child had to give you your space to grieve, choosing to parade you around on her arm like the pain she’d caused was the greatest achievement of her life. 

You didn’t move, get up, talk to anyone, nothing. Those tasks felt too big to approach, you felt too small, too undeserving. So you subjected yourself to thirty-six hours of nothing but overthinking. What else was there for you to do? You had nothing else going for you except your broken relationship, there wasn’t exactly a lot of options. 

Any memory that came to mind, you thought about it, hashed over every moment of it, looked at every viewpoint you could think of from Alexia’s perspective, until you rinsed it dry and tears soaked your pillow. All these times where her disdain towards you was glaringly obvious, yet you still didn’t have the strength to break apart the love you stored in your bones. You found yourself defending her, coming up with excuses for the way she acted, and no part of you stopped yourself. 

Eventually though, the tears dried out, just in time for you to start getting ready for dinner with her family. 

Her family, who were none the wiser to the despicable actions of their daughter, sister, niece, cousin. They thought the world of her, the star of the family, heart of the city, the best athlete of her sport that could do no wrong, personally and professionally.

Was it wrong to end a relationship out of convenience, yet still pretend to be in love to avoid the dull task of sharing the embarrassment that it hadn’t worked out as planned? They probably wouldn’t think so. They would take her side, paint you as the villain, and shower the Ballon d’Or winner with the support and care they believed you never gave her. You did, Alexia knew that, yet you couldn’t imagine a world where she’d stick up for you anymore.

That was just another example of how lonely you’d be if anyone found out what had happened. You decided, in the end, you had no choice but to continue this act. The realisation that the greatest loss in all this wasn’t the love you had to fake, but the person you became to keep the lie alive, was so soul-crushing. What hurt more was that there wasn’t a thing you could do to fight it.

You had to redo your makeup twice before Alexia texted saying she was waiting for you, not because you were crying, but because your hands trembled with adrenaline, the only saving grace for this dinner. You couldn’t get through it on your own, maybe this was the one time your anxiety would come in handy.

Her mother greeted you warmly, rambling about how long it had been since she last saw you, and how exhausted you looked. Alexia, of course, wasn’t far behind nor out of earshot – you could bet your house on the fact she wouldn’t leave your side for a second throughout this torture, desperate for another glimpse of the wounds she was leaving – with a flash of a warning in her eyes for you to keep your mouth shut, before the warmth came flooding back and she greeted her family with a smile she once gave to you.

Food was passed up and down the table in heirloom dishes, recipes that had been family tradition for longer than any of them could remember filling Eli’s home with a concoction of scents, all of which were heavenly and not an ounce overwhelming. Though, despite the sweetness in the air and the deliciousness on show, you couldn’t quite find your appetite. Alexia noticed and turned her head, her lips by your ear, murmuring about ‘growing up’ and ‘not coming across as rude’ and ‘not making a scene in front of her family’ before pulling away with a kiss to your cheek. Some of her family caught on, grinning and winking and teasing her for such a deliberate display of affection, and she brushed it off with some gently-uttered Catalan, which had them all cooing and smiling brightly at you.

Then, the questions came. Wine, sangria, beer, they’d all loosened the Putellas’ tongues. 

When are you popping the question, Ale?

How many children do you plan to have?

It’s about time you bought a house together, no?

How many carats in your ring, hija?

For reasons you didn’t care to delve into, it was them that snapped you out of the daze you were in. The numbness faded. The emotions came barrelling in. The hate outgrew the love, brewing and simmering, rising, until it bubbled over and erupted.

Though, you still had some decency, where the same couldn’t be said for Alexia.

The questions stopped when you slowly stood from your chair, your adrenaline urging you to move quicker but your sense overshadowing it, as you pulled your hand from Alexia’s grasp. It tightened for a moment, trying to keep you in place and under her control, where she was able to contort and twist your view of yourself, your view of the world and what you believed was acceptable for yourself. But for the first time, you slipped away before she could do anything to stop you. 

Silently, like you should have done weeks ago, you walked away from her and out the front door. As soon as you were out of sight, the door closing softly behind, you ran. 

You ran because you could, because now was finally time for you to relish in the strength that had been out of reach for longer than you could remember. You ran because your adrenaline was shouting for you to, needing an outlet for all that had built up and led to this moment. There were emotions coursing through you again, compared to the numbness that had consumed you, and you didn’t know what to do with the rush that came other than run. It was a madly cathartic feeling, unlike anything you’d ever experienced before.

Until you crashed. And everything crumbled down on top of you. 

You stopped running. You looked around. 

You were in a neighbourhood just outside of Barcelona that you didn’t recognise enough to be able to navigate how to get home. The reason for that? It was your girlfrie- no, your ex-girlfriend’s mother’s neighbourhood, Alexia’s hometown, where everyone there knew the Putellas-Segura family not just because of the height of the captain’s success but because of how close-knit the community was. They didn’t know you, but they surely would when word would spread like a wildfire about the events you had caused. Yet more people that would be against you.

Your phone was buzzing wildly in your pocket, and that numbness, the anxiety, the mental paralysis that struck whenever Alexia reached out to you tried desperately to take over. But you had made it this far, you weren’t about to ruin all your progress. So, you declined her call, and despite the fear that had your hands shaking and mind racing, you blocked her contact.

The calls stopped immediately, as did the messages. And where you stood then, there were no physical traces of her in your life. No toxicity bleeding through your phone and making a place for itself in your mind. It was the first time she couldn’t contact you, couldn’t force herself into your head, couldn’t control you.

Every decision you made then was entirely your choice.

You called a taxi. You waited on the side of a road, having to stumble through the pronunciation of the street you were on to the poor driver on the other side of the phone, and waited. Your eyes didn’t stop scanning the area around you, worried that Alexia would somehow be right behind you, desperate to verbally lay into you for the rest of the evening.

However, the cab arrived before that could happen, so you clambered into the back of it and slammed the door shut behind you with a little too much haste. The driver glanced back at you in the rearview mirror, and you smiled apologetically, before relaying the address of your apartment. 

It wasn't relief or gratitude that filled you during that car journey. That would be too good to be true. No, instead it was a deep, burdening feeling of... unknown. These weeks of unsettlement and unfamiliarity hadn’t prepared you for not being the puppet that Alexia controlled with the strings at her fingertips. Your heart beated wildly in your chest, thumping away with the rhythm of your thoughts which were far too convoluted for you to make a clear plan of action.

What were you going to do once you got home? Just... go to bed? Then wake up in the morning and head to training like nothing had happened? As if your life hadn't just burst at the seams, flipped upside down, imploded, for the second time in only a few weeks?

And as it had done for so long now, your mind began to betray you. One could class it as second nature at this point. Because, how could you do this to her? You did cause a scene in front of her family, and in the process, probably burnt every remaining bridge you had in Barcelona.

This wasn’t something to celebrate. That feeling of catharsis earlier? Merely a distant memory. All you felt was regret. A few friends had warned you in the first place about everything to do with your move to the Spanish city. Why move so far from home? Why uproot everything you ever knew? And many more along those lines.

Yet, the ones that stood out the most were all to do with her.

How could you fall in love with your captain? Wouldn't a breakup between you both ruin the team? She's the best footballer in the world, what are you doing with her? Out of everyone she could have, why you? She could have anyone in Barcelona, what is it about you that she could surely find in anyone else?

Maybe all their doubts were right. It really was doomed from the start.

And as you unlocked one door to your flat after arriving, you looked around at the space that once brought comfort, the only thing it gave now was... cold, but deserved loneliness.

All you could do was stare and reflect on how the dull, desolate, dark and dismal space only represented the punishment of your actions. You did this to yourself; there was nobody coming to save you, nor did anyone even want to.

Except one, but help was the furthest thing on her mind.

“Open this door right now!”

You could recognise that angry, demanding voice anywhere.

“Do you know what you have done!?”

Of course you knew. That's what killed you the most. There was no coming back from this, not when she was outside your door with more fury in her words than you had ever heard before.

“Will… will you just let me in? So we can talk?”

When she spoke then, there was an ounce of sympathy in her tone, which you grasped onto as if your life depended on it. She had you wrapped around her finger, and she knew it. You were pretty certain she revelled in it.

A second passed between her plea and you rushing to let her in. Perhaps even that was generous.

Her shoulder shoved into yours as she rushed in, immediately beginning to rant a tad aggressively in rushed Catalan. For a moment, you feared her, afraid of the capability she had with her words. One of the many things you had learnt about her in the weeks that had passed was that her need for control and her willingness to express that had no boundaries at all.

On the other hand, your earlier discovery that you did indeed have a backbone sparked something inside of you. If you didn't act upon it now, didn't take advantage of the rare situation where you had some faith in yourself, you'd never make it out with your self-worth in tact. You didn't want to build your future on a foundation of lies and deceit. You didn't want to trade in your potential for a lifetime with someone that did nothing but wear you down to the point that you didn't recognise the person in the mirror.

You knew who you could be if you just took your life into your own hands, you saw that earlier, and the figure that looked back at you when you did your hair in the morning and brushed your teeth at night was a brave woman that deserved more than what she had put up with these last weeks. You had a life before Alexia, one full of actual joy and unbridled excitement which had led you to this city in the first place – that same person deserved a life free from the restraints of a shameful, dishonourable relationship that hadn't been real for months, nevermind the weeks of theatrical, Oscar-winning performances that came from a place of hatred, not love. It was never love on Alexia's behalf, not for a single fleeting moment.

“No, Alexia, you do not get to come here and do this. I refuse to sit back and be the punching bag you use for your own fucked up ego!”

Her scathing rambling in her mother tongue came to a halt. The silence that followed was oppressive to Alexia, a feeling she'd inflicted upon you countless times yet never been on the receiving end of. For you, the silence was nothing but an opportunity to finally take back the reins of your life.

“YOU broke up with ME!” You shouted, and instantly felt a rush of adrenaline surge through, just like it had done earlier. “But you won't let me leave your life! You won't let me grieve our relationship! I wa-”

“I told you it was better if we c-”

“No, it is my turn to speak. You have spoken more than enough recently.” The glare you sent her way physically hurt her. She knew she deserved it but it made her sick. This had been a long time coming. “I have spent every second these past few weeks trying to be good enough for you and if anybody asked me why, I don't think I could come up with a truthful answer. Maybe it's because I hoped you would see just how much I loved you, that you would change your mind and say you regret breaking up with me. But now... I just have to thank you.”

Her face pinched together in confusion, and all she wished for in that moment was a chance to explain herself.

When she sent that text, however long ago it was, she never planned for it to end like this. She wasn't in her right mind as she typed it out and hit send. Tears burnt her eyes and dropped onto the seat of her car whilst the regret that tried to save her from drowning was out-strengthed by the shame that pulled her under. If she could take back the break-up, she would in a heartbeat. That was something she realised the moment she saw your first tear drop, when she heard the first poorly disguised sniffle from the person she still loved, whilst she wrecked the beautiful relationship you both had built, in less time than it took to say the alphabet.

That was no excuse, she knew that. It was just far too little, and far too late.

“Wh-what? Thank me?” She repeated. The defeated look on her face would have wrecked you once. On this occasion, you had to stifle a grin that would border on being a little too psychotic. Revenge was a dish best served cold.

“Yes. You showed me your true colours, Ale. I planned on spending the rest of my life with you, so thank you for showing me who you truly are before we were in too deep. You hurt me more than I could ever express these last weeks. You ruined me. But I know I am ten times the person you'll ever be, and I know that I can pick myself up and put myself back together. I don't want you around to see that, you don't deserve it.”

There it was, the statement Alexia had feared for weeks: you didn't want her around anymore.

Those words were the reason why she had barely let you out of her sight, why she always cut you off at the first sign of conflict. If she kept you under her watchful eye and within arms reach, she could pretend, even for just half a second, that the pair of you were still wrapped up in each other's love, like Alexia hadn't broken up with you. ‘Selfish’ hardly scratched the surface in reference to her actions and this one-sided deal. But if it all ended, the two of you would just be teammates again, which somehow hurt worse than being strangers. And should you ever leave the club, she wouldn't even have an excuse to talk to you everyday. Maybe that would be better than playing football together whilst having to pretend there wasn't a year's worth of history, of adoration, of pure and whole-hearted love between you.

You clasped your hands in front of you as you waited for her to process your words, just another grace you gave her that she never did you. Everytime in the past that she had said something that felt like a blow to the stomach, she swiftly moved on before you could compute what she said. She seemed speechless, which was a first.

“I… no, you have the wrong impression, mi amor, I didn't-”

“You don't get to call me that anymore. You lost that right the second you started pulling away before you even ended our relationship. But please, go ahead and try to dig yourself out of this mess.” Every time you spoke and returned the harshness she previously addressed you with, the pained expression to her face only intensified.

“The person you saw since we broke up, that's not me, I swear!" You couldn't help but scoff. “I mean that honestly. I... I don't recognise that person. You must know that, no?”

Her lips could lie, but her eyes couldn't hide her true thoughts. She was clutching at straws and coming up empty for reasons about her arrogant, toxic behaviour. Choosing to stay silent despite the pleading look on her face, you sighed exasperatedly.

“I am sorry, and I will make sure that you know that. I have regretted breaking up with you from the moment the words left my mouth. Even more when I asked you to do this deal. It's not right, or fair, and I don't know why I thought it was acceptable to ask you to do it. All I know is that I did it because I love you. And I couldn't bear to let you go.” She spoke slowly but with desperation clear on her face and in the way she moved. 

Whilst she was talking, her hands never stopped moving in front of her, though she ended her point with the palm of her left hand, the one that always held yours no matter what, landing on her heart. Under her soft skin there, with the lines there you were sure you had memorised, she felt the rapid beat of the organ that was slowly, at a tortuous pace, being torn in two. And it was entirely because of her own doing.

“That isn't how you love someone, Ale.” You said simply, ensuring she felt the full effect of those words.

The first tear of the confrontation fell at that precise moment. It didn't come from you.

“I know.” Alexia whispered, her voice cracking as the dam she’d worked so hard to build for the last however long finally burst. 

Even after all that had happened, all the pain she'd handcrafted for you and the irrevocable damage she'd caused, you would be lying if you said the sight of her crying didn't make you feel guilty. You weren't the type of person that made people cry. It took all the will-power you had to remind yourself that the blonde in front of you had dug her own grave and it was time for her lay in it.

“I’m not going to sit around and be the outlet for whatever identity or moral crisis you're going through. I deserve better.”

“And I know that, I promise that I do." She sobbed. “You do deserve better and I'm sorry I couldn't be that for you.”

“There you are.”

Your words shocked you just as much as they did Alexia, they came out before you had even registered them as a thought. Apparently the adrenaline was doing more work than you assumed. It wasn't ideal, but you weren't sure how you would cope without it. Acting like this was so out of the norm for you, if it wasn't for the addictive rush throughout your veins, you dread to think of what you would have done when the midfielder initially arrived. The most likely outcome was… you breaking down into tears, falling to your knees, and apologising in such a pathetic manner that Alexia had no choice but to take you back into her arms with an awkward, pitiful grimace on her face.

Thankfully, nothing remotely close had happened. If anything, it was the opposite. The tables had turned to an extreme degree. You had every bit of control in this scenario, and though you didn't doubt that Alexia could flip it around whenever she felt like it, it was your opportunity to recover your sanity and make the most of this one time where the cards were in your hands.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Alexia questioned.

“The woman I fell in love with, who has a heart and actual feelings." It was a comment that almost crossed an invisible line by your standards. Not like you could take it back though, so you had to settle for pursuing vengeance and continue by explaining yourself to the clueless woman before you. “Who thinks of the person she’s talking to as an equal rather than someone she towers over. Who reali-”

“I have never thought of you as below me, why would you say that?” She interrupted you in a panic, but you ignored her.

“Who realises that her actions actually do have consequences, and that people won’t stick around when she doesn’t show she appreciates their company. Where have you been all this time?” You laughed in spite of her, to which her eyes widened and she took a step closer. She tried to reach out for your hand, but you moved it out of her way.

“I have been right here, I haven’t gone anywhere!” Alexia argued. It was funny really, just how quick her entire façade had subsided and gave way for such a ridiculously victimised mindset.

“You and I both know that’s not true at all. For the last quarter of our relationship, you’ve been a completely different person. So distant and… unbothered. Unbothered about me, you didn’t show for a second that you cared for me and loved me. And instead of a seamless split where we both can grieve in whatever way works best for us individually, you drag me around on your arm, flaunting how detached you are!” You were shouting, you recognised that, but you didn’t care. The neighbours can have their fun and get a front row seat to it all. “I thought you, at the very least, had the common human decency to not be selfish and let me work through my feelings, where I was completely heartbroken may I add, with no distractions and no games. But no, you forced me into this excruciatingly difficult and painful experience that h-has wrecked me!”

Tears hit the wooden slats beneath the pair of you, both looking through blurry vision and barely being able to stomach the sight of the other in such states. Never, in the time you’ve known each other, did either of you think it would ever end like this. 

“I’m sorry.” It was all Alexia could think to say. And it wasn’t good enough, she never had been.

Pulling your sleeves over your hands, you turned away from her for a moment and dried your face from the endless stream of emotion that overwhelmed you. As you did so, you took a few quiet deep breaths in, an attempt to gain back some composure. 

“The last thing you will do for me is telling people the truth.” You began when you turned back to her. “You won’t leave out a single bit of detail. You will tell everybody we had in our life together what you did to me, what you made me do.”

“I already told my family. After you left.”

That caught you off guard. You didn’t expect her to have the guts. 

There was a brief period of time between you getting home and Alexia arriving that you don’t really remember. It was a blur, mostly, not that you were surprised considering the anxious cycle of spiralling you found yourself in. 

You found enough satisfaction from the way she murmured that admission that she felt a deep amount of shame, and possibly a hint of embarrassment, meaning her family had hopefully lay into her about her actions. Maybe they were on your side after all.

“There are still many people to tell. You’re not getting away with this, Ale. I will make sure you never do this to anyone else, ever.” 

For Alexia, who foolishly had a speckle of hope remaining, had all her dreams about the future shattered with that last sentence.

“I cannot get you back? Ever?” 

Even if it did frustrate you, you couldn’t just forget a year-long relationship in a flash.

“I don’t think so.” You told her, because you couldn’t give her a straight no.

She nodded on instinct, until she stopped, because a fresh wave of sobs consumed her, and she had to cover her mouth to muffle the sounds of them. She only allowed a couple to escape, before she forced down all that emotion and glanced back at you.

“I know I deserve that. It doesn’t make it hurt any less.” This time, you nodded, because you agreed with her. 

The Barcelona captain had hurt you immeasurably, yes, but after all, love always went in hand with hate. And despite the fact the latter was a much stronger feeling now than it had been since that day in your apartment with a stoic, indifferent blonde in front of you, you couldn’t ignore the feelings you still held for her. They had taken a backseat throughout this, though as the argument gradually came to a natural end, the events of the day depleting both your emotional staminas, those same feelings came creeping back. In all honesty, you didn’t think they would ever fully leave. That was an issue to tackle another day.

“I understand. But you have to learn how to deal with that because I don’t think it will ever change.” You told her, a little less sternness in your voice now that the fight was beginning to leave you.

“I will. I will do everything you have said, I promise.” Her last promise to you.

There wasn’t much else to say after that, apart from…

“I think… I think you should go now.”

So, with a single nod of her head, Alexia slowly made her way to the door and you trailed after her. You saw the tremor to her hand when she reached for the handle, and heard the shake of her breath when she breathed out. Then she opened the door, and with one last look back at you with glossy eyes that held far too many emotions within them to be unpacked right now, she stepped out into the corridor and closed it behind her.

The sole company you were left with was the silence that cloaked your apartment. It was deafening, and the only thing it did was heighten the emotions you were left with. 

All you could do, in that moment, was slump back against the wall by the entryway, slowly slide down it until you were seated on the floor, and cry out every last tear you had left inside you.

[feyhunter78]

Jealousy on the High Seas

Description: You’re not a jealous person, but your crush on Sanji might be proving you wrong.

You like Sanji, like like him as Luffy might say, if he knew you liked Sanji, that is. You like his smile, his hair, his style, his accent, how sweet he is, and the way he flirts with you so effortlessly that it makes you feel like the main character in a romance novel.  You like like Sanji, and it’s absolute torture because so does every other girl on this damn island.

You don’t even know what it is about today that’s getting so under your skin. You wouldn’t say you’re the jealous type, and usually him flirting with other girls doesn’t bother you, but as you watch him flirt his way through the marketplace you find yourself nearly bursting into envy green flames.

You’re itching to shoot something, the golden pistols at your hips drawing in the sunlight, storing it within themselves to be later used as ammunition. You breathe out and try to calm yourself, nothing good will come from shooting a random tree or sign, it’ll only draw unwanted attention, the targets on the Going Merry will be there when you return.

“Okay, so after we get these vegetables, we need to get some fabric for you and Nami, and then I think we’re done!” Luffy says, looking over the list Nami wrote out for you guys.

You nod and try not to glare at the back of Sanji’s head, because he’s flirting again, for what feels like the hundredth time today, and you’re really struggling to keep your cool.

“Oh, I can make anything, darling, just give me the right ingredients.” Sanji says, winking at the girl working the vegetable stand.

She blushes, stuttering as she hands Sanji the bag of vegetables he purchased.

You exhale sharply through your nose, and Luffy raises a brow. “You okay y/n?”

You nod, tapping your fingers against one of the holsters at your hips. “Yeah, I just hate how long this is taking.”

“We’ve only been at this stall a few minutes, though?”

The girl giggles at something Sanji says, and he leans closer, inspecting whatever she’s holding. “Now that is a work of art, and I don’t just mean the bracelet. It should be a crime for hands such as yours to be forced to work, they belong in a museum to be adored by thousands, along with the rest of you.”

“They belong in a museum.” You mimic under your breath, arms folded over your chest, your eyes darting between Sanji and the girl.

Luffy tugs on your sleeve. “Do they put hands in a museum? I’ve never seen any that weren’t sculptures or still attached to people.”

“No, he’s just being stupid.” You grumble before raising your voice so Sanji can hear you. “Sanji, let’s go, we have other places to stop at.”

Sanji flashes both you and Luffy a smile over his shoulder. “Of course, my apologies.” Then he turns back to the girl. “Thank you for your help, madam, it’s been a pleasure bending your ear.”

You roll your eyes and turn on your heel, spine stiff as steel. “Forget it, I’m going to that stall down the street, so I can get the fabric.”

You storm off before Luffy can say anything, cursing yourself for getting so worked up. It’s Sanji, he's a flirt, you’ve known this since you met him.

They find you where you said you’d be a few minutes later, admiring the bundles of fabrics, holding a deep blue one up to the sun, and scrutinizing it.

“Excellent choice Miss, that color would look ravishing on you.” The merchant says, rummaging through his stock and handing you a forest green fabric swatch. “Or a beautiful green for a beautiful woman?”

You smile and take the swatch, ignoring Sanji’s scoff. He just bought you some fabric dyed this very color at the last port, he knows you don’t need anymore. Oh well. “Wow that is beautiful, add it to my order as well please.”

“As you wish.” The merchant says, folding the fabric and placing it beside the blue.

You scan the stall. “Do you have anything pink? I’m planning to make two skirts, so I’ll need extra fabric.”

“Of course, one moment.” He ducks beneath the counter.

Sanji saunters up, draping an arm over your shoulders. “I do so love seeing my princess in pink.”

“I’m making a skirt to send to Kaya, and the other is for Nami, not me.” You tell him, brushing his arm off as the merchant reappears and places a bolt of pastel pink fabric before you. You pay the man and snatch up your purchases before Sanji can, pointedly ignoring him as you storm off back towards the ship.

“Y/N sweetheart, wait for us.” Sanji calls, his long legs bringing him to pace with you quickly.

“Walk faster if you don’t want to be left behind.” You tell him, not sparing him a glance. You just need to get some space from him so you can calm down and nurse your wounded pride.

“I mean I won’t complain about the view either way.” Sanji smiles, clearly expecting you to play along like you usually do.

“Go back to that vegetable seller then. You can get a great view of the ship sailing away without you.” There’s venom in your voice, and you see Luffy look between the two of you, utterly confused.

“Now why would I want to do that when my best girl is right here?”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah right.”

“Have I upset you, love? What’s with that frown marring your gorgeous face?” He coos, reaching out to stroke your cheek.

You stop dead in your tracks and shove his hand away. “Oh, fuck off Sanji, I’m not in the mood for false flattery.”

“False?” Sanji looks as if you’ve slapped him.

“Yeah false, fake, faux, pretend, not fucking real.” Okay, you’re losing it a little bit, jealousy is definitely not a good color on you.

“Uh, guys, maybe we should have this conversation back on the Going Merry?” Luffy says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You’re right, Luffy, I don’t want to talk about this.” You agree, pointedly ignoring Sanji who still looks stunned, and heading back to the ship.

You’re near the bow of the ship, targets hung from the rigging, swaying slightly in the breeze. One shot, two, three, four, all dead on, bolts of light piercing through the sacks, and spare bits of wood or metal picked up on the islands the Going Merry stops at. You don’t feel better, though, you can’t get the sound of that girl’s laughter and the way Sanji leaned in out of your head. You let out a frustrated huff and holster your pistols, the metal warm in your hands.

“Nice shooting.” Sanji says, and you turn to see him leaning against the mast, unlit cigarette in hand.

“Don’t light that while I’m here.” You remind him, intending to brush past him and hide out in your room.

Sanji catches your wrist, tucking his cigarette away. “I’d never dream of it.”

You nod, debating pulling your arm away or stomping on his foot and running.

“You’re upset with me.” He says softly.

Busted

You pull your arm away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, love, I’m not stupid.”

“I think Zoro would disagree with that.”

“Yeah, well, I could say the same about him.”

You shrug, sensing a potential escape. “Go do it then.”

“Nah, I’d rather stay here and figure out what’s wrong.”

You go for denial again. “Who said anything’s wrong?”

Sanji arches a brow. “So, we’re all good then, yeah?”

“Yeah, we’re fine.” You say briskly, moving to pass him once more.

He catches your waist this time, pulling you to face him. “Ah, I said good, not fine, sweetheart.”

You scoff softly, pressing your fingertips to your temples, irritation clear on your face. “Fine, yeah, we’re good, happy?”

“I would be if I believed you, but I don’t.” His expression softens, his voice devoid of its typical cockiness and charm. “What’s wrong, love? Tell me what I did, and I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

You worry at your bottom lip, teeth catching on a patch of dried skin, tearing sharply, leaving a stinging sensation, blood blooming on your tongue.

Sanji hands you a handkerchief, and you press it to your lip, grateful for the distraction. “You didn’t do anything abnormal; I’m just in a mood today.”

“Specifically aimed at me, though?”

“Maybe I’m also pissed with Ussop, you don’t know.” You argue, kicking yourself for losing any sense of detachment you might’ve been portraying.

Sanji fixes you with a look, his fingers flexing where they’re settled on your waist. “I think I know you well enough to tell when you’re angry with everyone or just with me, darling.”

Fuck it, guess you’re doing this, sort of confessing, sort of not confessing your feelings. “Fine, okay, I was just kinda upset about all the flirting in the market today, that’s all.”

“Upset?” He asks, his expression tightening, his voice colored with hesitation.

You nod, pulling the handkerchief away, the dot of blood vivid against the pure white cloth. “I know I shouldn’t be getting all worked up about it, but I just…I didn’t like seeing you flirt with all those other girls.”

“Other girls?”

“Yeah, you were flirting with like half the island.”

Sanji nods, something dawning on him, a brilliant smile stretching across his face. “I see.”

Your brows furrow, though your stomach flips at the sight. “What?”

His smile briefly dips into a smirk. “You’re jealous.”

“Of course I am? Why wouldn’t I be? I like you, and I have to watch you flirt with other girls right in front of me.” You huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“So, you’re upset I was flirting with other girls right in front of you, because you like me.” He reiterates slowly, that stupid smile that you can’t help but find attractive returning to his face.

“Maybe Zoro was right.” You drawl, trying to stifle your embarrassment.

Before you can blink, Sanji has you pressed against the mast, one hand cupping your cheek, his thumb resting at the corner of your lips, your breath catching in your throat. “And here I was thinking I was all alone in my feelings.”

“What?” You ask, almost panicked, head spinning as you try to make sense of the situation.

He tilts your head up gently, eyes so blue you could drown in them. “I’m not, am I?”

“No.” You manage to say, melting into his touch, eyes threatening to flutter closed when Sanji dips his head, his lips a hairsbreadth away from yours.

“You’re stunning when you’re jealous, you know that? Absolutely stunning.” He says, lips ghosting over your own with each word.

If he doesn’t kiss you, you’re going to scream.

“Hey y/n are you still out here? I want to use the targets for pra—oh shit, shit, sorry!” Ussop’s voice has you and Sanji jerking apart, as your fellow sharpshooter scrambles back, one hand over his eyes.

“I’m done with the targets, you’re good.” You tell him, fighting back the urge to scream.

“Maybe we should find somewhere more private?” Sanji suggests, holding a hand out to you.

You take it. “That’s probably a good idea.”

@elrondswifey I hope you enjoyyyy🥰🥰

[universefcb]

hiii!!! how are youu?? i was wondering if you could do some pau cubarsí comfort, maybe where him and reader are dating but she sees him playing football with a girl (it could be at training or somewhere), and she feel a little insecure because she's not good at it or doesn't really like it an thinks he would rather be with someone who can play or enjoys it! (i'm not sure if it makes sense! personally i love watching sports but i am so bad at playing them😭😭) also i love your fics!! your writing is so so pretty!!

Don't have to be like her

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí X gf!reader

Summary: You feel insecure when you see your boyfriend playing soccer with a girl

Warning: Mention of Reader, Anguish/fluff

Author's note: I really wanted to be a soccer player when I was younger KAKAKAKAK

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

The sun was already beginning to set on the horizon when you decided to stop by training. It wasn’t unusual to show up unexpectedly, sit in the stands and watch Pau doing what he loved most. There was something mesmerizing about the way he moved, the way he read the game, the way he smiled after a good pass. You loved seeing him like that.

But that day, the smile that normally grew on his face was stuck somewhere in his chest.

There, on the field, Pau was laughing next to a girl who was also training with him. She was good—very good. She passed accurately, dribbled easily, and the way she moved seemed almost like a dance. Pau was smiling at her in a light, playful way, and although you knew, rationally, that it was nothing wrong, something inside you shut down.

You didn't know how to play soccer. You never knew how. You barely knew how to kick a ball. And even though you loved watching, cheering, and cheering at every game, you always felt out of place when it came to playing the sport. It wasn't your world.

Maybe… maybe he would prefer someone who would share this with him. Who could share the field, the training sessions, the games with the ball. Maybe he would have more fun with her than with you.

You hated yourself a little for thinking that way.

Later, already sitting on the grass near the exit, you tried to hide what you felt when he came running, still sweaty, hair messy, smile of someone who lives with an open heart.

"Hey, love," he crouched down in front of you and gave you a quick peck. "You came to see me?"

You forced a smile and nodded.

"Yeah... I wanted to see you play."

"Lucky me," he laughed, but his expression changed subtly. "Is everything okay?"

You hesitated, fidgeting with your fingers.

"That girl you were playing with… she's good."

"Júlia? Yes, she's great. She came to train with us because of the mixed training, to integrate the youngsters from other categories as well."

"Ah..."

He frowned.

"What it was?"

You bit your lip, trying not to look silly.

"Nothing. It's just... sometimes I think maybe you'd have more fun with someone who likes to play too. Someone who knows how. I love watching you play, but... I'm terrible at it. And it's not like I can share that with you."

Pau was silent for a moment. His expression was not one of impatience. It was one of caution.

"Love…" he held your hand, and his eyes searched yours with such sweetness it almost hurt. "Do you think I love you any less because of that?"

You didn't answer, but the way you lowered your gaze said it all.

He came closer, resting his forehead against hers.

"I fell in love with you. For who you are. Not for who knows how to kick the ball," he smiled, small. "I don't need to share the field with you. I want to share my life."

You felt your eyes burn.

"I'm happy when you come to see me. When you cheer for me. When you wait for me after training. That's what matters to me. Not if you know how to keep up the ball," he laughed, trying to make you laugh too. "By the way, have you ever seen me play Just Dance? You're a thousand times better."

You chuckled, sniffling.

"Don't say that, I'm horrible too."

"But it's my horrible one," he teased, kissing her cheek affectionately. "And that's all that matters."

You snuggled into his embrace, smelling his sweat and wet grass.

He didn't need someone like him.

He loved you just the way you were

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @merinottt @htpssgavi @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr @pedricando @barcapix @owala6789

[namism]

Hello it's me! Sorry for being late sending this reply, but is it alright if I ask for the strawhat's with a dog hybrid reader that ends up taking the treasure off their ship? Sorry if this sounds crazy (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

mink on the run! the world's cutest thief | straw hats

➳ categories: canonverse, female canine mink reader

➳ word count: 2k

➳ summary: After scoring a gold mine on an island, the Straw Hats throw a celebration. Unbeknownst to them, a visitor decides to join in.

➳ notes: thanks for the request! 🧡 not sure how you wanted it to turn out but i ended up writing a one piece filler episode/scene. on that note, sorry not sorry chopper

➳ cross-posted on ao3

Odd things have been surrounding the Straw Hats lately. Robin was the first to sense that something felt off, then Usopp second. After that, everyone else followed, raising their concerns one by one.

Turns out it was just Luffy sneaking into the kitchen for a midnight snack.

Once that was settled, the rest of the crew kept their guard down for the rest of their stay on the island, hopping off the Thousand Sunny and roaming around the capital.

Nico Robin, however, still feels iffy.

Luffy's appetite did not spike her radar, so she doubted it was the cause. Looking at their circumstances, though, she understands if everybody else just shrugged it off because they're preparing for yet another celebration, the excitement fogging their heads.

Still, she decides to keep an eye out, afraid that something might be after them.

Brook is the first to notice her vigilance.

"You seem to be worried about something, Robin-san."

Robin tells him of her suspicions. To her surprise, Brook agrees to help her, and together, they go about their days keeping watch.

Unbeknownst to them, inside a little cask stowed away at the corner of the Thousand Sunny's lawn deck, emerges a canine mink previously in hiding.

You lift the lid of the cask and scan your surroundings before deciding to hop off. The sun is gone and the sky is dark, while the ship of the Straw Hat Pirates is, for once, silent.

Taking a whiff of the fresh air blowing from the combers of sea, you stretch your limbs and crack your bones to prepare your body for the strenuous movements needed for your extravagant plan. A small smirk forms on your lips when you eye the door to your right.

You force yourself into the room, but end up leaving disappointed as you realize that you're in the men's quarters. You step out quickly, then race up the steps by the foremast to check the room on the upper level.

Kicking the door open, you instantly smell the items you're after.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the ship is the Straw Hats' cook, humming a soft tune to himself as he prepares tonight's dinner celebration for the entire crew and their acquainted islanders. In the middle of cooking, however, he smells something different in the air, and his senses start tingling.

He sets the gas stove on low and pokes his head out of the kitchen door, looking into the darkness to investigate the cause of his senses. When he's charmed by the scent, he pauses his cooking, promptly dashes out of the kitchen, and walks across the lawn.

That's when he notices the light emitting from the women's quarters. Faint and mysterious, Sanji decides to check it out, knowing well enough that Nami and Robin aren't on the ship at the moment. Suddenly, he runs into an equally confused Franky emerging from the basement, who quickly agrees to come with him to check the light.

When they get to the door, that's when they find the impostor.

"We got a thief!" yells Franky upon seeing you rummaging through Nami and Robin's items, your furry hands inches deep into the treasure chest that one of the girls has stationed beside the beds. Alarmed, you hop on your knees and throw two gigantic sacks of treasure on your back. "Aow! The thief is stealing Nami's treasure, and she's SUPER cute!"

Facing the two men by the door, you realize that you're trapped. Looking to your right, you find two portholes large enough for you to crawl out of.

Deciding to bail on your operation, you plead with the two men cutely, your eyes turning glossy and your eyebrows knitting together.

"Garchu!" you greet with your adorable puppy eyes. Realizing that you're a mink, the blond is immediately entranced, while the other stands his ground and doesn't react to your scheme.

Nonetheless, you hastily open the porthole and squeeze your sacks of treasure through them. Startled, the two men decide to go after you with the blue cyborg initiating the chase, but you're long gone from the Sunny by the time he forces his bulky metallic body through the opening.

Hopping off the ship, you look behind you with your tongue sticking out, barking in between laughs as you realize that they're chasing after you.

"My beautiful lady, wait up!" the blond man of the Straw Hats yells.

You make a face of disgust. "Ew, what's his problem?"

You make a beeline for the forest, dodging tree branches and obstacles swiftly to lose the men behind you, but they maintain their speed. You quicken your pace and head straight to the island capital, where you can hopefully blend into the crowds and disappear into the night.

As the festive crowd goes wild, mingling merrily with the Captain, sniper, musician, and talking reindeer of the Straw Hats, the top drinkers of the pirate crew congregate at the gazebo, where a competitive crowd cheers on their betted pirate. Nami wipes the corners of her mouth after having drunk another bottle dry, earning a snicker from Zoro, whose competitiveness coaxes him to grab another bottle of alcohol. Across from the two, Jinbe laughs heartily over his 15th cup, watching the chaos all go down.

Robin sits around a campfire with the island children, styling their hair into fishtail braids, when she feels something strange yet again. She looks behind her only to see Luffy and the others dancing around the pavilion, concluding that it might just be her paranoia talking.

She proves herself otherwise, however, once Franky and a heart-eyed Sanji emerge from the forest breathily.

"Aow! She's stealing our treasure!"

Robin looks across the pavilion and sees you, a canine mink, holding two fully loaded sacks of treasure and looking awfully similar to their friends back in Zou. You weave through the crowds with purpose, almost losing her attention, but she summons replicas of her hands on the ground where you walk, gripping your ankles.

Stumbling on your feet, you growl at the happenstance before leaping into the air forcefully, grabbing the attention of the many islanders around you. The music stops as gasps of surprise echo across the pavilion. Robin summons another handful of her limbs to restrain you, but you shock her with your Electro, allowing you to move around freely.

You land on top of the Straw Hats' Captain and sniper, knocking them on the ground with your two feet. Their reindeer and musician scream, and you pluck the pink cotton candy away from the reindeer's hands.

He starts crying, but you run away.

"MYYY LADYYY! Come back!"

Looking behind you, the blond cook from the Thousand Sunny is back on your trail with the blue-haired cyborg following him closely. You grumble under your breath and dash to the gazebo, where the crowd stays ignorant to the turn of events, too involved in the drinking competition they're hosting to care.

Suddenly, you leap across the table, triggering further chaos as you crash the competition. Jinbe and Nami scream, while Zoro ignores the commotion as he finishes the last of his alcohol.

"Give me that!"

You snatch the swordsman's cup and drink the last few drops of liquid, grimacing at the bitter taste. Angry, Zoro jumps to his feet and readies his swords to fight.

"Nami, that dog mink stole our treasure! Get her!"

At the sound of the cyborg's cries, you realize that you're in the presence of the woman whose room you were in earlier. Gulping, you hop off the table and sprint out of the gazebo. Nami, the woman with tangerine hair, begins to heat up at the news and reaches for her Clima-Tact.

To your luck, you're long gone from her sight before she could use her weapon. You head toward the maze of residences that engulf the city, taking sharp turns and running down alleyways to lose them.

Moments later, you run into a cute predicament.

"Stop right there! Freeze!"

A laugh erupts from your chest the moment you spot the Straw Hat's talking reindeer. He holds a small paw right in front of his other one in a kung fu stance, but he's so cute and tiny that you're incapable of feeling scared.

Looking at the cotton candy in your hand, a wicked idea comes to mind.

"Give back our treasure, you mink!" he growls.

"Ah, but that would just be upsetting." You feign a frown. "If I returned the treasure, will you-teia let me go?"

"Absolutely not!"

"Even with cotton candy?"

The reindeer's eyes soften as you wave the strawberry-flavored candy in your hand. His hands relax, and he slowly reaches out for it.

You hold it back.

"No can do. You-teia have to clean it first with water!"

You give him the candy and pull out a water bottle from your knapsack. With a wicked smile, you pour water onto the cotton candy, causing it to melt in the reindeer's hands until it's fully gone.

"All done! Enjoy!"

As you run past him in laughter, he realizes what you had just done, looking back and forth between the melted (practically non-existent) cotton candy in his hands and the spot where you once stood. Tears well up in his eyes a second time as he realizes that he just got fooled.

Two streets down from yours, an annoyed Zoro runs after a fuming Nami with her Clima-Tact out and ready to attack. Jinbe is on the other side of town with Brook and Usopp acting as lookouts. When she sees your tiny furry figure at the end of the street, the two humongous bags of the Straw Hats' precious treasure riding on your back, Nami erupts into flames and hurtles down the path to catch up to you.

You run faster. Suddenly, at an intersection where four streets meet at a marble sculpture of the island's ancient hero, appears the Straw Hats' idiot Captain and another one of his nakamas with the Paramecian Devil Fruit power, holding the talking reindeer in her arms.

"O-Oi, is this really the mink that made Chopper cry?" Luffy asks Robin as he looks at you confusedly. Chopper wails, flailing his hands around as rivers of tears flow down his face.

"T-That's her! S-She"—he sniffs—"she stole my cotton candy and made it disappear!"

The three watch you laugh, one arm clutching your stomach.

"There she is!" Franky's voice rings out from the street to the west, the creepy blond man running after him.

"Get the treasure and stop her, you idiots!" Nami commands from behind, and the Straw Hats follow immediately. You channel your Electro and shoot bolts toward them, effectively knocking them down besides Nami and their Captain. Nami unravels her Clima-Tact, generating a gigantic Thunder Ball of electrified air. She hurls the ball toward you, but you send it flying back with a magnified fist of your Electro.

"What do you think you're doing?! You can't do that to my crew!" Luffy hops on your head and blocks your line of sight. You scream.

"Get off me!" You push him off you as you run out of breath. Digging into your knapsack, you grab the piece of venison meat you were saving for dinner and shove it in his mouth. Luffy bites down on the meat, distracted, so you take the opportunity to leave, heading east.

Despite your attacks, the blond man of the crew—Sanji, you believe his name is—stands back up feebly and uses every bit of his energy to still run after you.

He closes the distance between you, but he's too slow to catch up as he sees you stand on the ledge of a stone bridge.

Turning around, you shoot him a wink, causing him to swoon.

"Bleh! Thanks for the treasure, Mugiwara! Garchu!"

Sticking your tongue out at the defeated crew, you dive into the river and swim toward the estuary leading to the sea, never to return with your treasure safe and secure behind you.

[glassrowboat]

I Grew Up. Jing Yuan.

Summary: Before Jing Yuan was the general of the Luofu, he was just another kid who would play with wooden swords and bugs; a menace who was always ready to prove himself as a Cloud Knight. And besides him? An apprentice from the Alchemy Commission who was always ready to annoy him in his endeavors.

Warnings: Mentions of war, gore, death, there is an NSFT part (when both characters are adults), so fingering, smut, oral

Word count: 11,300+

A loud, cheery voice called out “one, seventeen, five hundred and seventy two,” as a blade swung in the air. The rustle of clothes coming with each move, every practiced hit to a non-existent enemy having a random number sang out into the air to match it. No chirping bird nestled in the trees to be had as the source of the voice had long since scared them all away. “Nine hundred and ninety nine, fifty six!”

And with each shout, Jing Yuan was repeating the number he was actually on in his head, trying not to let a certain annoyance distract him as she had done so many times before. This one's antics are just as familiar as the spot he found himself training in. Cracked stones with bits of moss growing between the once upon a time smooth concrete, a red tree providing shade from the blaring sun, and a bench only five feet away currently supporting a girl with her hands to her mouth, trying to echo out each word.

“Sixty nine! Two thousand one hundred and five!”

Her green dress was tell enough that this girl was from the alchemy commission, but they both already knew that the details of swirling clouds were so unlike the ones above the two providing shade. A shadow cast out over the courtyard, helping keep the air just cool enough that a light breeze would have anyone considering fetching a sweater. Well, anyone who's not in the middle of a training session.

“You are being a nuisance.”

Per usual.

Bringing his sword back up to practice another swing, Jing Yuan tried his best to ignore the taunting words, just begging him to chase her around the small space again. “Oh, big word for a little guy. Jingliu teach you that one recently?”

“What if she did? Master is-”

“Three hundred eighty six.”

“Master is-”

“Seventy nine.”

With a clamor Jing Yuan drops his sword in a way one could compare it to a knight getting his weapon knocked out of his hand in the heat of battle. A daunting enemy above him threatening to end his life with their own blade as he scurried to fetch it back in time before that looming presence, a terrifying face about to become the last thing his ten year old self sees. So like a prince charming in a fairy tale, his fingers would grasp the worn down hilt from the shape of his hand just in the knick of time, blocking the enemy’s strike. A triumphant hero. Except it was the complete opposite. The sword just fell to the ground from a slip of Jing Yuan’s fingers.

“Smooth moves, Yuan.”

“If you hadn't distracted me.”

“And what Cloud Knight is supposed to lose his weapon because a chicka said a few words?”

Jing Yuan had to stop himself from biting on the inside of his cheek or maybe even a scoff just so he could get out: “any knight should know that sometimes you will lose your weapon in combat and what really matters is what I do next.”

Like he could grab a hidden dagger! Or….”I could just take the blade of a defeated foe.”

“Like what? Those giant ones the mara use?” She held a hand up above her head, waving it in the air to call extra attention to it, a habit from waiting to be called on in class after listening to someone drone on for hours at a time about the medicinal properties of lily of the valley or something of the like. “I've seen those before, and they're taller than both you and I, so good luck! You'd have to spin around in circles just to give the blade any force behind it.”

A small giggle fell from her lips as she pretended to swing a giant blade, mocking the same way she would see Jing Yuan use his own.

‘Just what in the world is she imagining?’

“Just admit it, evolution didn't choose you, short stuff. So you'll just be a knight in training even when you're five hundred years old.”

‘As if!’

Picking his blade back up Jing Yuan slid it away in its designated sheathe with a satisfying click, the glare from the metal no longer reflecting on the ground beneath him as the sun peaked out from behind the clouds. “I told you that I'm going to be taller than you one day. Besides, you're only four inches taller than me, that isn't a lot.”

“I feel like I can make a joke here but it might go over your head.”

“Nope! Nope!” Not wanting to hear it, Jing Yuan smacked his hands to his ears. Maybe it would be enough to block out her shrill voice even as her steps echoed with every step she took closer to him to try and pull them off and out of place. “Just because you had to earn about that stuff for your studies doesn't mean I want to hear it. Not again. Mom already gave me the talk, and it was awful!”

“You're such a kid.”

“She was talking about things with things and wouldn't let me leave until I repeated it back to her.” Right after he had run to go try and wash his ears out by dunking his head in the water can outside his home in hopes of the water knocking the words loose.

“You're not helping your case here.”

“It doesn't matter! That stuff like kissing other people the way mom and dad do is so not on my agenda. That can be saved for your princess stories and other girly stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” A little grin curled at the corners of her lips, most likely due to having another retort right on the tip of her tongue. She even got out the words “then why are you so huffy over this stuff” before being cut off with little to no mercy by a loud call of her name. A man’s voice shouting for the girl again and again, only drawing nearer with each passing second. “Shit! I-I mean shoot. Shoot.”

Dropping his hands he stood there watching the panic come to her face. Only slightly smug. “Sure you did.”

“You're not helping!”

Quickly, her form ran over to the courtyard's many walls, green dress fluttering behind as those little legs scurried around in a panic. Her voice only picked up in speed as she tried to get the situation out of her mouth and understood as fast as possible. “Yuan, I have to go right now. I left without permission again.”

‘Of course she did. Probably to get out of those talks about being switched out to advanced classes.’

“Hoist me up!”

“And why should I? You've been doing nothing but trying to get under my skin this entire time.”

Again, another call of her name sounded. Haize’s voice getting clearer and clearer. A man Jing Yuan had only come across in passing when trying to drag a certain nuisance into playing with him. Or, a better way to put it, his friend's master.

“You motherf- I'll owe you!” Her hands were scrambling at the bricks on the wall, trying to find just the right ones to use for purchase. As if that's how scaling a flat wall would work, like rock climbing. Sure. “Just help me up or for the Reignbow Arbiter sake!”

He couldn't help the chuckle he was trying, and failing, to fight back from escaping, not with how quickly she did a 180. From teasing the life out of him (per usual) to now looking like she would plead like her life is on the line. Though with master Haize, it was hard to tell. He could very well deal out writing the same sentence a thousand times over worse. At least that's one of the lighter ones Jing Yuan has heard about.

‘One shall not leave the alchemy commission without permission’ with each ‘I’ dotted with one of her hastily drawn hearts.

“Why should I? I think this is simply karma.” Despite his words Jing Yuan was already coming over to help, eyes going up and down the wall to figure out the best way to go about it.

“You little- I'll owe you, okay?”

“I know you will.”

And just like those five years ago, when they were both kids running amok trying to help one of them escape from an unjust punishment, her shoe fell between his interlocked hands to his shoulder as she managed to swing a leg over gray tiles of the walls roofing. Admittedly, it was a bit of a blessing that at least this time, she didn't have to step on his head to get that proper step up. Last time that left a good mark of dirt in what was otherwise Jing Yuan's pure white hair as she scrambled away with a wide eyes scanning over the courtyard like she was expecting her master to pop out of thin air and a quick “see ya!”

Now, though? She was looking down at him from up high, her hand held out to help him up to follow her.

“And why are we sneaking into one of the alchemy commissions gardens when you have full access to go here?” This entire thing didn't really make sense to him, but here he was playing along even as the scent of flowers hit Jing Yuan in a way that was comparable to a woman accidently spraying her perfume in your face.

“Because, esteemed Jing Yuan, you're not allowed back here. And we have to do something to celebrate you officially becoming a cloud knight.”

Grabbing her hand the very same ‘esteemed knight’ pulled himself up and along beside her with very little help besides a tug or two to his blue sleeves. The uniform he now gets the privilege to wear with a red ribbon Jing Yuan ties around his waist every morning with pride after years of work and swinging that same blade over and over again. He swears that if he took a moment to just sit there and close his eyes while this menace of a woman jumps down into the garden below that he could feel the grip in his palm.

That is until his eyes shoot open as he hears a grunt and sees her figure kneeling on the ground, one of her hands brushing dirt off her face. Failing at that too, but for now she doesn't need to know that.

“Smooth moves.”

“Shut it.”

Jumping down after her, in a proper landing, Jing Yuan helps her up as she huffs and puffs.

“But my point still stands, cloud knight.” Knocking a hand against his chest, she turned back to the garden before them. An array of colors. Each petal is like a brush stroke on a canvas. “You got to your big goal, so we should celebrate.”

“Many of the other trainees after getting accepted were shooting the breeze with shaoxing glasses in their hands, and you choose a flower field you know like the back of your hand to take me to?”

“Fine, don't appreciate it. But I at least thought it would be nice. It's been a while since you've been allowed back here after you ruined a flower bed.”

“And last I recall you're the one that pushed me into said flower bed.”

“Anyway-” trying and failing to hide her laughter at what was most likely the memory of tripping Jing Yuan straight into a pile of dirt and seeds before her fellow classmates, she bent down to get a proper look at the blossoms before her. She probably knew every little detail about that flower, but Jing Yuan couldn't place it as anything more than just another pink one.

‘Anyway, she says.’

“Since when did it hurt to stop and smell the roses? Besides, if anyone catches us, I'm just here….getting a few herbs I need to dry out for a project I have planned out. The number in my dorm has been dwindling.”

Moving besides her, he sat down on the wooden walk set up to make sure no one would repeat his mistake so many years ago of mistaking where the path ended and patch started. At least that's the lie this one who thinks proper decor is bottles full of potions ultimately decided on before their scolding began. Jing Yaun’s boots made a hefty clunk as he settled down.

“And not even a drink to be had?”

“Yuan, wait until you're older. I shouldn't have to go over the repercussions of drinking before your prefrontal lobe has fully matured with you. I'll do it too.” Another huff. “It's very important for you not to touch a drop before your behavioral patterns-”

“Is this you talking or the lessons you've learned, Prodigy?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.”

Plucking one of the flower's petals off she held the fragile thing up, studying the veins as she held it up to the full moon. The only source of proper lighting to be had when neither of you could afford to turn on the ones for the garden without being caught. Who knows what trouble could be had for you two from this even with her supposed foolproof excuse for being here.

“Carnations. You've probably seen a few as decorations at those fancy tea houses, the ones we've seen those Foxian ladies favoring so much. These can be used for their anti-inflammatory properties if you're in short supply of the normal pain meds the commission makes. A poor substitution in my book, but it's best to always have something extra on hand just in case.”

Raising his hands up Jing Yuan brings them together a few times in a short round of applause. She always did look so intense when bent over work tables with mixtures of all sorts at her fingertips, eyebrows knit together just as they are now. “You really do sound like a proper healer when you go off about this. Shame I know you for mainly cussing when you stub your toe.”

“A lady is allowed to express herself!”

“‘Lady.’”

“‘Cloud knight.’”

“You can't use that on me anymore now that it's true.”

It takes a moment, her eyes on him in silence before finally relenting and muttering a short “touche” he almost missed.

Taking the petal from those hands lacking the calloused his have Jing Yuan pinched it softly, trying to view the one little piece of life the same way she seemed to. A well of endless possibilities that could be made into something more than just a woman's perfume. “Say, I think it's time I cash in one of the many favors you owe me.”

“And what favor do I owe you, big guy?”

“Ah, someone's still petty I grew taller than them.” Chuckling Jing Yuan looked up from the petal to a face that still had the slightest smear of dirt on its cheek, barely seen in this lowlight. “What happened to those precious three inches you had on me?”

“It was four.”

“Three inches.”

“Well, it's perfectly normal for a young man to be tall. If anything, it's just a sign that you were able to grow up strong and healthy despite all the times you slid your fried cabbage on my plate.”

Something she had let him do on multiple occasions as they shared a table at either the alchemy commission when everything was stuffed full of nutrients and seemingly without a sprinkle of sugar or at his family home as Jing Yuan’s mom always slipped them an extra dessert whenever she was over.

“Well, uh…”

‘Okay, it seems we're getting off track here.’

“You owe me for helping you escape Haize when you were thirteen.”

“No, I gave you my desserts for a week in recompense. It's been paid off already, Yuan. Try again.”

Huh. Tilting his head at that his eyes rolled up to the star covered sky. The Luofu was on its night cycle meaning they could properly see the galaxy beyond the blue hue and clouds that would be overcast during the day time.

“It's pretty, isn't it?” A hand pushed his shoulder, not nearly enough to knock Jing Yuan down to the wooden path but it had him rocking in place for a moment. Tall but lanky as a certain healer had described him, right after saying he needs to eat more, then he'd properly fill out once he ages up and grows out of the awkward teenage phase. “Just say what you want. I'm fine with you owing me for once.”

“Of course you are.”

And of course he shoved her shoulder right back.

“Can you tell me what it's like to see a mara-struck up close? If I'm to meet one in combat, I should know what I'm going into, and Master Jingliu can only help so much.”

‘Master has only one perspective.’

“Good to know you're not so overconfident that you're rushing into battle with your sword raised for a charge. I didn't know you had a brain in there.”

“Seriously? You- Just back to my question.” Jing Yuan snapped.

“Okay. Fine. Impatient much. The thing is with your question…It's simply not a fair comparison.” She took a moment, eyes going from between him to the flowers that surrounded them. Lavender, marigolds, chrysanthemums, and so so many more. A field. And if he asked Jing Yuan was sure she could tell him the scientific names of each one without issue. “The ones I deal with are primed for dissection, not for a fight.”

A sigh.

“But, it's not pleasant. Master had me- let me try again. You know those gingko leaves that tree in the courtyard you used to always train in? How would they slowly turn from green to yellow only to fall off soon after?”

“I would always be tasked with cleaning them up. Part of my ‘due diligence’ and training in patience. I'm pretty sure though it was just master Jingliu not wanting to clean it up herself.”

“Well,” a small giggle came from her at that, “someone needed to do it. And if I caught you sweeping I'd always fetch a broom and spend the afternoon helping you catch up on chores.”

‘And she would always hold it over my head after.’

“I loved gingko leaves when we were younger, because they made me think of you and those moments where we were threatening to hit each other over the head with those old brooms that probably couldn't even handle a single strike. I would pick one out from the dustpan and keep it stored away in one of the many pots in my room. Like they were precious.”

“Is rambling included at this time to stop and smell the roses?” He couldn't help the little grin that came to him, lips quirked up at the edges with absolutely no effort to stop it.

“Don't interrupt me if you're the one who wants an answer. No lecturer wants a student that can't shut their fucking trap.”

“Okay, okay.” Raising his hands in surrender was automatic at this point after hearing just that pissed off voice alone. “Go on, teacher.”

“Thank you. For the Reignbow Arbiter’s sake. So,” Her hands clapped together, calling attention to herself despite the fact Jing Yuan was already paying more than enough to her, “back to my point.”

“The thing is…After my first dissection, even with master Haize watching over the entire procedure, I couldn't look at the mara-struck all at once. I was supposed to dissect it like a frog, something I've done dozens of times before, but I couldn't even just take a step back to look at the thing properly. It was a task to be objective.”

‘Couldn't look at them? Was it someone she once knew?’

“When I finally did it was at the end of the process when the master said I could wash off, and there I stood by the sink with those stupid blue rubber gloves covered in the coagulated blood of a dead body and gingko leaves.”

“I couldn't think about them the same way anymore.” Her head dropped. Eyes downcast on the very hands that had cut and opened up what was essentially, or at least should be, a corpse. “The abominations are so different from us.”

“I know.”

Even the thought of those creatures could ruin a night like this, it seems, one full of their usual antics and trouble seeking habits. The mara-struck, an inevitable fate for all Xianzhou natives if death doesn't take them first.

“Maybe you were right, maybe a drink to go with this night of celebration would have been better. Then we could be cheering about something stupid and-”

His hand was raised, reaching out to her, only stopping midway when she glanced up at him with a disapproving stare; most likely for interrupting her or getting caught off track despite all the times she's done so to him. “And you were just getting on my case about it earlier, too. Frontal lobe..something or another.” And he wiped the dirt he had been letting stick to her without a word off. The grainy texture is a sharp contrast to her own smooth skin.

“You- how long has that been there without you telling me?”

“Since you fell off the wall.”

“I didn't fall. I jumped.”

“And you're sure about that, Prodigy?”

She swatted his hand away, much like she was dealing with a pesky bug flying around near her ear.

“I hope you know that when you get hurt on the field, and you inevitably will because all you knights do at one point, they will bring you back to me. When that happens, I will make sure that whatever injury you acquired will somehow end in my fellow healers being convinced they need to chop one of your limbs off due to risk of infection. You will be at my mercy, Jing Yuan.”

‘Great, another threat.’

She's made hundreds of threats since the moment they met varying from some that had Jing Yuan stumbling over himself in shock to wondering if the best she could do was smack him over the head. Especially when he's still getting taller. Who knows, maybe one of those days she'll have to ask him to lean down for her just to be met with a solid hit to the head. The thought alone had him laughing.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hey! What's so funny you two bit bitch?”

“You don't need to worry about it.”

Taking one of those pink carnations, Jing Yuan plucked the stem from the ground, not bothering to mind the dirt when his fingers were already dusted with it. Fragile petals and a soft hue. It truly was just a flower in his eyes, but somehow, it looked like more than that as he tucked it behind her ear as she scolded him for picking something without permission.

It was two years later Jing Yuan found himself holding a bouquet of the very same flowers after toiling over the best way to do this for hours, but they seemed only fitting. The shop owner he bought them from was nice enough to wrap them in those sheets of paper used for…well, decoration? And a red ribbon much like the very one in his hair.

The only difference being from when he bought them ten minutes ago to now is how the long stems had been wrangled as he clutched them tight in his sweating hand.

And her, staring up at them.

“Happy Luofu alliance day to you too.”

“You're all the way out here instead of joining in on the festivities?”

Papers were scattered all around her like a blanket on the grass, some clearly torn out from their notebooks as pages were frayed at the ends and others were slightly yellowed from years of use and spills of what is most likely more than just coffee stains. Scribbled notes that had Jing Yuan careful not to step on one and leave a footprint behind (for fear of being scolded, again) as he caught glimpses of diagrams, highlighted margins, and sketches of organs as he walked closer to her.

“There will be countless more years to spend in the Dragonvista Rain Hall. For now, I want to spend my one free day organizing my notes.” As she spoke she lifted up the notebook that had been on her lap in the air.

“Your ‘one free day’ being a holiday you're required to take off.”

‘Yet here she is working.’

Glancing up Jing Yuan’s eyes fell on the tree she was sitting under. Foliage far from dense enough to keep the occasional sun beam peaking through the leaves as they cast golden rays on her green dress; still wearing her alchemy commission uniform, even now.

“Did you not have to be dragged to classes once kicking and screaming?”

She would even cling onto his arm, shouting for the future cloud knight to protect the poor damsel in distress from the fearsome bad guy. That being Haize as he plucked her up from the ground and carried her out of the courtyard like a disgruntled cat. Jing Yuan’s ear would be ringing for the rest of the day, but it was always worth it seeing her so pissed off after purposefully being a frustrating little brat. Teasing him like no tomorrow.

“Times change, Yuan.” She said, her words full of laughter. “Though, I did see this poster earlier about some foxian theater troupe putting on a performance. Epic of the Old Verdant House, if I remember it right.”

“That explains why we can hear drum chanting all the way out here.”

A melodic beat full of energy that matched the chatter of the crowds down below. From here, he could see the lanterns hanging off of every pillar they could and tops of tents full of wares with people being waved in to 'come and see what we're selling, benefactors.’

“Sure does….say, I'm surprised you have the day off. Shouldn't an esteemed cloud knight be going around patrolling the streets to help keep the peace? I thought you'd jump at the chance to try and show your dedication, yet here you are not even in uniform.”

Standing there in everyday wear without a single piece of armor, Jing Yuan shifted his hanfu sleeve, the fabric stretching only to fall back as he let go. It wouldn't hinder him, but it certainly wasn't his usual garb.

“I switched out my shift with that kid you helped last week.” Though she had many patients. It wouldn't surprise him if she had forgotten about the event entirely. Things do tend to start blurring together when it's the same day after day, or at least that's what she says. “The one who got all bruised up in training, Aiguo?”

She hummed at that, seemingly to take a moment to recall. “The blond? For a cloud knight he sure does bruise easily.”

“He does…” The flowers in his hand were only wrangled up further as this conversation continued. This was besides the point. “So, rewriting your old notes then instead of going to that performance? I might have to grab a rose so you're forced to stop and smell them.”

Her eyes flicked up to him and he had to grip onto those already wrangled stems even harder to keep himself from simply choking the words out in his haste. A few white knuckles were easy enough to stand in favor of making this right.

“It's a better use of my time then watching you try and catch a goldfish at one of those scooping games again. I'm pretty sure by the time you were out of credits to waste away the vendor and I had become dear friends.”

He couldn't help but raise a brow at that. The only reason he was trying so hard in the first place was because only a week before, she was forced to get rid of her pet scorpion. Ingredients had been found in her dorm by a supervisor, and after an apparently long meeting, it was determined the thing had to go despite her begging to just let him stay in the alchemy commission.

“It was rigged.” He said, slightly shrugging as he did so.

“All carnival games are rigged. That's the point.”

‘True, but at least it got her laughing. Even if it was at my expense.’

“Or, and hear me out on this, Yuan. It could also be that you just suck.”

“Thank you, so much.”

“Oh you're so very welcome.” Picking some of the sheets of paper up she tucked them between the pages of her notebook. Brand new but it was already covered in dirty fingerprints. No doubt from her collecting samples to tie into the pages as he could already see some of her old notes with a dried out jimson weed (if he recalled the name correctly) pinned down with thin metal wire keeping it in place. “I just don't have the time to do this any other day.”

“So.” stepping in closer to her spot under the tree Jing Yuan kneeled before her, making sure they were eye to eye even if she wasn't paying him the same amount of attention he was her. “If I asked you to come down and watch me struggle to catch you another fish?”

“And do you have the credits to spend on something so lavish?”

“I can spare a few.”

“I…I'm busy. I want to get this done.”

“And I can get you some osmanthus jelly.” Lifting the bouquet up, Jing Yuan held it up to her, the end of the red ribbon softly swaying from the movement. “You preach to me the importance of taking a break, but you can't take one yourself?”

“You know I hate when you use my words against-”

And her words were drowned out by the loud sound of an engine, of a starskiff racing on by as fast as it could go. A familiar sound that would normally have Jing Yuan nodding to himself at the sight, taking in the beauty of such skilled piloting, but right now it only had him spitting out hair from his mouth as it whipped right into his face. White filled his vision as papers flew before his very eyes. A specimen of belladonna seen for only a moment before it trailed off, caught in the strong breeze the ship kicked up.

“No! No, no, no!”

Like confetti the notes she had spent years on flew away. Not even her hands snatching to grab anything proved fruitful as she scrambled up to pluck anything from the blue sky. Her fingertips barely grazed a sheet completely covered in yellow marker over the written margins before it fell to the crowd below.

Multiple people down below dressed in their finest attire, the festival masks, and waving their fans to keep cool in the generated heat of the Luofu's system were caught looking up and around them as the notes fell all around them. Ranging from the rooftops to the streets as those years she spent were tread over with little to no care, like they were nothing more than posters advertising something or another, causing her to whine at the sight.

“Fuck!”

As Jing Yuan pulled the last bits of hair from his mouth, he could see her flipping off the direction the pilot flew off in, even as it was long gone.

“Fuck you you punk ass bitch! Come back here before I shove a catheter up your dick!”

“Interesting insult.”

Grabbing a sheet of parchment from the branches of the tree, only a few of them stuck in there, Jing Yuan held it out to her.

“I hate this fucking household.”

Sighing Jing Yuan looked back at the paper in his hand as she just pouted at the sight of it. There goes his chance to confess it seems. Another day then.

“Come on, Prodigy, I'll help you find everything we can. It doesn't matter if it means spending the entire Alliance day peaking into alleyways or climbing over crates.”

“Just another favor I'll owe you.” She grabbed the paper from him as she spoke, fingers going over that messy handwriting that was no doubt scrawled down in a rush to get everything in her mind to a proper record. “Years of work.”

“No, there's no….”

‘No need for a favor.’

“Actually.” The flowers were over by the tree now, forgotten in the midst of what just happened, but did he really need them right now? Sure, this wasn't how Jing Yuan had been wanting this to go down, but what did those hours before the mirror practicing what to say as his friend, a fellow Cloud Knight, mean in retrospect when she was pouting like this? “I'd like to cash in that favor now. I’m going to ask you something, and I don't want you to immediately say no. Take your time to think about it.”

“Now that's a big ask.” She said, grip tightening a little bit more to the point the paper started to crinkle under her touch. Maybe she was worried it would grow wings and fly away on her too.

“I know.”

Grabbing her hand, careful to make sure his actions did not tear anything, Jing Yuan squeezed it softly. She had no calluses made from the efforts of swinging a blade- of wielding a weapon. No, they were soft from the amount of lotion she used from always applying some after washing her hands again and again once she was done making some new medication or concoction or another thing of the like. Somehow, that made it all the easier to hold her just like this.

“The next Alliance festival, I want to go together not as friends, or two people trying to find your notes, but as eachothers date.”

“No.”

“Now that's not taking your time-”

“Ask me again later, when I'm in a better mood; and pick an event that will happen sooner than a once a year festival.”

‘Oh…. Oh!’

Squeezing her hand a bit tighter, Jing Yuan asked: “will you go on a date with me sometime this month? We will have to figure something out between your busy schedule, Prodigy.”

“I said, ask me later.”

“Technically it was ‘later,’ just by a few seconds.”

“This is the worst confession I have ever heard and I've seen people proposing on the medical beds when one of them is so drugged they can't even understand what is being said to them.”

After a moment she added in, “you still have to help me find my notes though, then I'll say yes. And I want a better confession too, like in those romance books. Give me a whole speech.”

“Are you seriously asking me to study those girly novels of yours?”

“Yes. Or no dice.”

“I- fine.”

‘To believe that years ago I'd cringe at the thought, but here I am agreeing to it just to satisfy this bossy woman.’

“You're always a headache.”

Later that day, after spending hours combing the city to find every last sheet they could manage, Jing Yuan tied the red ribbon around her pinky, admiring how it showed she was his. as she told him she'd find the time in her busy schedule to squeeze in one little outing.

And it was that very same hand he tied a ribbon to, that he grasped that day, the very same day he played in his head again and again with a smile that could never leave him at the memory, that is now threaded through Jing Yuan’s hair.

Tugging. Pulling. Unapologetically leaving knots he'd have to comb out later.

“Patience.”

“You've been saying that for the past ten minutes, Yuan.”

The way her voice came out slightly strained had his lips tugging up. Soft little pants he was drawing out of her from those pretty lips he yearned to kiss right now even as his own were sliding along her naked thigh. Tongue just barely lolling out for a small lick before retreating once again.

She'd call him a tease. Has been, actually. But Jing Yuan couldn't barely help himself when seeing her like this.

Blankets pushed off to the side and barely hanging off the edge of the bed that was cast in only the low glow of a lamp on a desk nearby. One covered in glass bottles full of things he's been warned not to touch, and he knew well enough to listen. It was enough to have his fingers gleaming as he pulled them away again.

Much to someone's dismay.

“Stop being mean to me. Please.”

Jing Yuan only hummed in response, not minding her begging much as his teeth just barely dug into her skin; the idea of leaving a mark was so, very, tempting. To know that under her skirts in the days to come would be proof of this moment in the dark.

Her thigh tensed in response, muscles flexing before falling back to a relaxed state as his lips ran over the imprints of her underwear he had been pulling and tugging at earlier left. A garment discarded as soon as his head dipped between her thighs, yet here she was urging him to give her more.

‘How greedy.’

But he is too as Jing Yuan’s cock strains against its confines. Fabric he'd usually consider loose, breathable, and easy to move in suddenly betraying him with every shift of his hips against this old mattress. Barely providing anything friction as he breathes in the scent of sex. Of slick. Of her need for him.

Just that alone had his hips bucking forward.

His gaze moved from the way she sucked his fingers in as they slid back inside her with a wet squelch up to those half lidded eyes that flicked between him and the ceiling.

“Yua-”

A chuckle fell from him as she chased after him, her breath hitching and eyes falling closed as his tongue slid between those lips he's never had a proper chance to taste before, and oh what he would do to let those legs wrap around his fluffy white head and eat a meal he's never had before for hours just to find what would make her unravel beneath him.

Would she call his name in those final moments with her toes curled the way they are now? Would she be clinging onto the sheets with a knuckle white grip? Would her chest heave as he watches those breasts still red from being tugged and teased at fall with every breath?

Yes, they were both greedy.

“I know you're doing that on purpose.” She finally managed to say between her whines and attempt to stifle them away under her free hand.

“Am I now?”

That accusatory glance had Jing Yuan curling his fingers over a soft spot that felt different from the rest, spongy even, as he tried his best to act innocent. Not very convincing when his words are muffled by her pussy, but it was a try nonetheless.

“F-fuck…”

“I can't help but think you liked that.”

It was a wonder she wasn't trying to kick him in some way, but maybe that's just because with every movement of his fingers, her head was being thrown back into the white covers.

“Where do you…how do you even know where that is?”

“This?” Jing Yuan asked, fingers crooking even more by just the slightest amount to brush over that spot inside of her again.

She didn't need to know the real answer to that, not when she wouldn't let him live it down if she ever found out. She'd get on him until his ears turned pink, and she'd only make it worse by pinching them and saying something like “oh sweetie, you're looking sick. Maybe we should take your temperature, yeah?”

So no, he'd keep the fact that one of her fellow students in the alchemy commission went around to all the guys he knew were in a relationship during the mess hall. Lunch hour as silverware clattered against those metal food service plates while some young lad with a diagram of all things pointed out…well...where to touch a woman in exchange for a hundred credits in turn.

Money well spent in his opinion if it had her looking at him like that. Glazed over eyes enough to have Jing Yuan wanting to press a kiss to those soft lips. To let her know just how she tastes.

“Maybe I'm just a natural; a prodigy just like you.”

Wouldn't that be nice? To know just where to touch her to have his name cried out like a prayer. The Reignbow Arbiter an afterthought to his fingers, but he was willing to give her the rest of their lives together to figure this out. To have her melt in his embrace on all the nights they will have, just like this one where she sneaked him into her dorms.

The door didn't even creak on their way in.

He didn't even stop to do anything more than lock the door before Jing Yuan had pulled her into his arms. Hands playing with the fabric of that green dress as it traced over the

gold accents on her chest all the way up to the clasp keeping it shut as their lips met in hurried kisses. One after another as she tugged him along through the bedroom to help keep those heavy boots of his from accidently kicking and knocking over anything of importance as they found their way between boxes of files to the bed.

Designs of swirling mist made Jing Yuan feel like he was on cloud nine as they slid up her thighs.

She rolled her eyes as he asked about her underwear, wanting to know if it was just for him. If she anticipated this happening and wanted to look her best for him.

The thought was a sweet one.

But right now that pair was tossed off somewhere long forgotten as his face was covered in her slick, and hands forcing her legs apart as she writhed beneath him.

How long could he take without breathing in some more air? The thought only came to Jing Yuan as his ears buzzed the same way they would after staying too long underwater. She the lake he would willingly jump in even if he drowned.

“Pr-Prodigy my ass.”

A kiss to her trembling thigh, eyes locking with hers.

“Are you saying I'm not doing a good job?”

“Not at all.”

‘Of course, even like this, she's snarky.’

A whine, a plea for more met him as Jing Yuan pulled his fingers out. The curve of her plush ass he wanted to squeeze and grope at covered in spittle and arousal just like his mouth.

Maybe if she was in a sane enough mind, she'd be saying something like it's been twelve minutes now. That is if she ever got the chance as he kissed her again. Body hovering over hers, taking note of just how small she looked under him.

How easy it was to grab her wrist and pull her flush against him.

Cock brushed against her through those damnable layers of clothes Jing Yuan wore that had his head burying away in her neck to take in the scent of herbs that clung to every piece of clothing she had. Trying to bite back a groan as he did his best not to rock against her in a frenzy, but it was his Prodigy who ran a hand along his bare back and whispered in their small sanctuary of sheets and pillows “we can stop if you're nervous.”

And like an over eager fool he rushed out a no.

“No, I promise I'm fine.”

‘Worried I'll cum in under a minute, but fine.’

“Besides, you made me wait for a full year, so I'm not going to pass on this now.”

“Patience,” She teased back. Hand brushing along his cheek that he couldn't help but to press a kiss to. “Besides, it seemed only right to wait until we were both adults.”

“Is this where you lord over the fact you're three years older than me again?”

Though she hasn't done that since he passed her in height, much to a certain someone's annoyance.

“Maybe.”

Tightening his grip on her waist Jing Yuan pulled her impossibly closer. Her warmth, her laugh, her hands tracing the muscles on his back she could surely name off the top of her head like it was nothing, it was all a reminder of how much he held her dear.

“Can we….”

“Start now?” That laugh again, the curl of her lips as she looked up at him through those long lashes she has cursed everytime they ‘betrayed her’ by letting something in her eyes.

“Yes.”

It was as Jing Yuan had tugged those pants down and out of the way that she grabbed his chin to lead him into a kiss. The taste of her still there, still lingering as her lips parted into a moan as for the first time it was his cock that filled her. That they were intertwined in a way that would make the Aeons themselves blush.

And it was in that moment as his hips moved to meet hers with a wet squelch that had him biting his lip not to moan too loudly and give away what they were doing to any of her neighbors in the dorms did the words I love you fill the air.

Her hands in Jing Yuan’s hair as she whispered them right back.

I love you.

I love you.

That's what she said to him as the wind whipped around from an awaiting ship. Luggage in her hand as she looked back between the people on board who were walking back and forth from the dock to a place Jing Yuan couldn't see with wooden crates full of provisions. Behind them, he could see the cloud knights assigned to this mission, just like she was.

Shinign blue armor just like his own, but he wasn't one of the few that were chosen for this. No, she was.

A healer is always needed.

“I shouldn't even be gone long. At most maybe a year. Maybe two.”

Far from long in the eyes of a Xianzhou native, that's for sure. The denizens of the Luofu had their lives tick by as the humans who came to the ship for trade and sightseeing grew old and suddenly stopped showing up. All due to a very obvious conclusion. But two years without her?

“Why wasn't it someone else assigned? There's always Aihan.”

“That girl? She still gets squirmish during autopsies.”

Meaning: no can do.

The stomping of boots continued as men tread back and forth. Some of the knights even stopped to give Jing Yuan a respectful nod or even a wave before continuing on with their task. His brothers in arms, despite the fact he wasn't going to be beside them on the field this time.

“Besides, it's only Yaguoret. This should all be wrapped up quickly. At least compared to the thirty year missions some people are assigned to.”

A shrug, like this, wasn't a big deal at all despite the fact they both have been on a battlefield now. They both knew what it was like.

“Look Yuan, I'll be back in two years at max and when I arrive in your awaiting arms,” her hand slid along the blue fabric of his uniform, playing with the material she had sewed back together for his time and time again, “you can keep me all to yourself for a week. Just you, I, cute dates or… other things.”

“Two weeks.”

“One and a half.”

“Two weeks, Prodigy.”

The two stared at each other for a moment before she finally sighed, shoulders dropping for only a moment.

“Fine, two weeks. I'll be all yours.”

Grabbing her hand, Jing Yuan locks their pinkies together. Silly, childish really, but it always worked when they were younger. Though it was mainly her wrangling him into compliance.

“Promise me.”

“I-I…..promise.”

So why was he now sitting in her room staring up at Jingliu listening to his master say something he never thought would be uttered?

The file boxes had been taken away, the bottles that had once reflected his own golden eyes back to him as Jing Yuan asked about the contents now missing, even the terrarium for Ingredients she never bothered to get rid of was gone like it never existed in the first place. The dorm room is bare, hollow of the personality it had accrued over years of use.

Photos of them ripped from the walls leaving dark squares from the sun aging the wallpaper that once framed those cherished memories.

“What do you mean she's been exiled?”

“I mean exactly what I say, Jing Yuan. The young apprentice of the alchemy commission, student to cauldron master Haize, has been exiled from the Luofu.”

Jingliu's hand moved to rest on the empty desk, brushing over the dust that had accumulated during the past three months that no one had properly cleaned this room. It was always something he intended to do, to keep up with making sure this place was as spotless as he could make it so she wouldn't come back to dust bunnies and a fit of sneezes, but work had been suddenly thrown onto him like something was amiss. Something massive had obviously happened, but he knew better than to ask when every time those who talked about it would shut their mouths the second even a wisp of his hair was seen.

“The fact she wasn't sentenced to death is a surprise.”

Because of course no one would want to talk to him about his own partner being….

“This is a mistake!”

Getting up from bed that creaked under him from the sudden movement Jing Yuan stood before his master, eyebrows pinched together to keep himself from outwardly scowling at the woman he owes so much to after years of training with the sword.

“You know her just as well as I do! She never would have hurt anyone like this.”

“When I knew the girl best, she was a fledgling. A kid, just as you are now. Letting your emotions blind your view of the truth will do nothing to help you.”

“I've known her for fifteen years. There's no way the same woman I know who takes spiders outside after finding them would be capable of murdering a hundred knights.”

She can't even hold a sword properly. She is a healer, a woman who makes mixtures and applies bandages. Who presses kisses to his wounds as Jing Yuan tries to brush them off like they're nothing to avoid the bitter sting of hydrogen peroxide she would mercilessly apply to him with a smile like nothing was wrong. A woman like that holds no contest to men trained for combat. Some of those men who were sent out even had hundreds of years under their belt.

“Even if she poisoned them?”

Jing Yuan hissed out a breath at that, jaw tensed just the same way it would when the antiseptic met his braised skin.

“She's…she may be capable, but that doesn't mean-”

“After the soldiers died, the effects started to show in the village people that lived on Yaguoret. Even cauldron master Haize said it was the same symptoms the corpses of the cloud knights seemed to have gone through.”

Jingliu pulled her hand back from the desk, a small coating of dust on her fingers she brushed off.

“Haize has done everything he can with what he has, but the people native to that planet keep dropping faster than he can try and make new remedies.”

The two stared at each other for a moment, like Jingliu was waiting for Jing Yuan to finish what she was trying to say himself, but he bit his tongue. Refused to use it. He wouldn't say the words aloud.

“Only your partner would know the best way to go about making a poison that her own master could not find an antidote, or whatever those alchemy commission bunch need, to stop this issue in time.”

“The elders have decided this will be written off as a plague. That will be what is documented as to keep Haize from having his position looked at with suspicion, but he will be on thin ice from here on.”

What Jingliu wasn't saying is: it's a wonder the man is keeping his job at all.

“This isn't possible.”

‘She wouldn't do anything to risk her…and the promise.’

As it felt like his chest was being clawed at by an invisible hand winding its way through his mouth, past Jing Yuan throat, and ripping his lungs apart to grasp at his heart Jingliu placed a letter in his lap. The envelope it was in clearly had been torn open, but it was his name on the white parchment with the ‘I’ dotted with a heart.

The sight of it made it even harder to breathe.

“She left this behind for you, clearly. When they were cleaning out her room trying to find evidence that was stumbled upon.”

That would explain why her room is so empty.

The words why is it open then we're right on the tip of his tongue, but they both already knew the answer to that.

“Do you know its contents?”

Jingliu nodded at that, not saying a word as her red eyes flicked down to the torn apart packaging of something that was supposed to be meant for only him.

“Does it mention…”

‘Does it mention why?’

“It's best you read it yourself if you want to know.”

It was the force of habit alone that had Jing Yuan nodding as he was given one last glance by his master before she left him alone. Most likely he can process this thing on his own, but just the sight of it, the idea of what's inside, made him feel sick. Hell, he was half tempted to burn it and throw the ashes of what's left out the window so he can watch them dance on the wind the same way those specimens of belladonna and jimson weed got carried away.

Swallowing down the taste of bile licking at his tongue, Jing Yuan folded up the envelope and tucked it away in his uniform.

That… can be saved for another day.

A day for centuries later.

A day for when he was stopped short as a bird flew down and nestled upon the crook between his shoulder and golden armor piece strapped down to Jing Yuan's arm. Little chirps filled his ears as he walked through the streets of the Luofu. Sing song, a perfect background to his afternoon stroll as the few people he passed by on this path he's memorized after years of use bowed their heads.

Surely, if it wasn't for the upkeep on the potholes or cracks in the sidewalk he would have worn the shape of his boots into the white concrete long ago.

Another chirp and Jing Yuan looked down at the red beaked creature with a lazy smile. These things were always so comfortable with him, to the point he's even gotten a few comments from Fu Xuan about being a princess. Something he just nods along with without complaint.

It was amusing how much his acceptance seemed to annoy her.

“Now, now, if you're too loud you might make this old man lose even more of his heari….”

His hearing.

But there he was, stopped short, one foot in the air waiting to follow along the path only he knows the exact details of even as people try to record the goings and happenings of the Dozing General. Frozen in space, in time, like it was ice that kept him stock still and not a single image that came onto one of those many blue screens depicting today's news.

The words wanted written right under the white and red pictures of Blade, Kafka, and a woman Jing Yuan never thought he'd see again.

That old ache blooming in his chest again like a flower in a patch of dirt just waiting to be watered as her eyes were revealed to him. Even in a drawing meant to capture her image, they never changed.

Teasin, inquisitive, and seemingly filled with thoughts he never had the neverending years to dig into like he was planting his own garden.

Wanted Stellaron Hunters.

Turning on his heel the bird that was nestled against him flew off, its wings flapping away as it took flight, and he was left to stride out of Starskiff Haven with his boots thudding their way back to the Seat of Divine Foresight as Jing Yuan tried with all his restraint not to break out into a full out run.

“You're dismissed,” is all he said as he entered those old walls, loud and clear for everyone inside to hear.

Heads turned his way, some immediately moved to leave, and the blond rascal of a kid he was so fond of came up to him only to hold his tongue as he saw the look on Jing Yuan’s face. A “very well, General,” threw his way as Yanqing followed everyone else out.

Jing Yuan didn't even notice the glance back to him as the doors shut.

Now it was just him standing there on the giant board surrounded by blue holograms, banners hanging from the beams up above, scrolls stored away in their exact places, and the lion statues he himself commissioned to be built in this place.

All alone.

Just like he was with a letter he never wanted to read as his feet carried him to that desk he hovers over day after day. Fingers moving along the smooth bottom to press a button that forced a drawer open. Thin, barely able to contain anything at all. When he first got this piece and requested such an addition, the odd looks didn't bother him much, not when the carpenter didn't need to know what it was for. As far as he cared, the simple phrase ‘official documents’ would have held enough weight.

But it wasn't some folder filled with the Xianzhou Luofu's darkest secrets, well, not fully anyway. Rather, it was a torn open envelope and the messy scrawl of his name.

‘Jing Yuan’ staring back at him.

Even after all these years later and his memories fade in favor of a blanket of mist keeping all those years locked away, he knew well enough she didn't like to refer to him that way.

It was Yuan.

It was her Yuan.

The paper felt odd in his hands, despite the number of times he's pulled it out and debated opening the thing before it faded away to dust, like it was brand new. A clean sheet of paper, despite it no doubt having passed through multiple hands before something that was rightfully his possession fell into his grasp for the first time. Fingers teased over the ripped envelope as he pushed it aside and pulled out a folded note.

It wouldn't be too late to back out now, just how he has done a hundred times before as he failed to bite the bullet even his old master was able to, but then the image of her flashed in his mind again. The wanted poster was an accurate portrait, but it still felt like a character compared to the memories that were like a migraine that never ceased to ache.

‘Evolution didn't choose you, short stuff.’

‘Since when did it hurt to stop and smell the roses?’

‘I don't care if I'm busy, I'll find the time to go on that date with you. I promise.’

I love you.

I'll be back in two years.

A whirlwind of moments together, of her words, that had him just barely creasing the note.

The thought that she promised to come back quickly buried away as he, for the first time, unfolded the note he's kept all these years without her by his side.

Dear Yuan,

I have drafted this letter over ten times now, and I can't quite seem to get the beginning of this right, so I think it's best just to get into the thick of things. You agree, yes? I hope you do.

I'm sure the news of what has happened (or is about to happen, if you're looking from my point of view) has reached you now. Is this a shock beyond words, or did a part of you know this was going to happen? We do tend to let our unconscious selves be quieted and hushed away by emotions. Such is the way of any sentient creature whose instincts do not drive them. But you cannot look me in the eyes and tell me this was not something you would fully deny being something I am capable of if you weren't driven right now by what I can only guess is…betrayal.

I didn't mean to be your first heartbreak, my Yuan. No, I never wanted that at all. I wanted things to stay just the way they were when you'd take that wooden sword of yours when Jingliu hadn't yet given you permission to wield a real one and chase me around with it because I teased you too much. Or maybe back when we would turn rocks over a day after it rained so we could try and find bugs together.

Oh Yuan, I could list countless moments I wish time had chosen to freeze us both in so this outcome never had to come to pass.

But it did.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not sorry for my actions.

The words ‘I can't afford to be’ were crossed out.

Do you remember that night when we snuck into the gardens? I do. Very well at that. I hope you do too, just for different reasons. That night, to me, was being with you, of enjoying our time, until you brought up the mara-struck. Those creatures that plague us all at the end of our lives like a withering flower bound to end up as nothing more than a husk of itself as its body is preserved much like that one I keep with a red ribbon tied around it (the one you gave me when you tried to ask me out like a bumbling mess) pressed between pages as it's currently being used as a bookmark. The abominations, they have made me realize something you might not have yet.

Maybe those three years I have on you really do mean more than I would care to admit. Maybe in three years' time when you are at the age I am now, you'll realize this for yourself too. This war is never going to end. This war will taint what is beautiful in the world. We were blessed to have a loll in the time we were growing up, but that is only because of the sacrifices of many given for such peace.

But still, many died when our eyes were blinded by youth.

And when the battles did come you were a guard on some street in the Luofu as I was called out of my dorm to treat the few men who came back from their efforts in the middle of the night. Blearly, I was lacking sleep, but I did my job just as I always have. That is what I told myself when I had to dissect my first body at the age of fifteen. ‘Do your job, girly’ despite the fact I was surrounded by those older than me and even they cringed as Haize yanked some pubic hair from a corpse to store into a plastic bottle for proper collection.

It took a while for them to forget this thing before them, this hunk of meat was dead and therefore couldn't feel pain. It took me a while, too.

Back to the men…They would come in covered in blood, scratches that were left by creatures I never would have dreamed of existing before until they told me about them as I figured out all on my own how to detach a chewed up limb from a man without making it too painful.

They still passed out in the end.

One day you will know war, you will know what it's like to be on the battlefield for more than a skirmish, you will know the smell of the dead as all their bowels release and the smell of shit fills the air, just as I do now after having been called to be a medic in those poorly put up tents behind the fighting men.

Yet I don't want people to have to know about war. I don't want you to know about war despite your jumping at every chance to prove yourself as a Cloud Knight. I don't want those people of Yaguoret to know about war as we descended on their planet. But it is inevitable. They are a poor people who know little of what to do with the land they possess, and we are a civilization that sees their planet for the resources it has.

It was already discussed after the first talks with the people there after they turned away our offers of trade that they needed to be…wiped out.

Children, mothers, fathers who can't even put up a proper fight, let alone to a Cloud Knight.

So if you are wondering if I killed our men, the very people we talked with in the mess hall, or annoyed on the training grounds, or that I bandaged in the past, then I have to tell you I will.

They won't survive, of course they won't. What kind of prodigy would I be if I couldn't make a simple poison that would properly kill a man? Or a good hundred.- Sorry, I shouldn't be making jokes now. Force of habit.

There will be no war if the people trying to make a war are dead.

There is no way to enact change without sacrifices. That is how medicine is made. First, someone must come to you with an issue, a sickness, and it is their loss of life that allows you to test the boundaries of this illness.

But that doesn't change the fact that I will soon become a murderer.

Somehow, I am calm, at ease, yet the most scared I have ever been in my life.

But I have cast aside my alchemy commission uniform, for I am no longer a healer. A murderer cannot claim that title.

So, as I said before, I won't apologize for my actions, but I'm sorry I had to face this world before you did, to come to my own conclusions. I can't help but wonder if I was younger, if I didn't have those three years on you, if we could find our own conclusions together. Ones that we could support side by side that wouldn't result in this.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is-

And the last words, with a dried teardrop smearing the letters to the point they were barely legible as Jing Yuan had to narrow his eyes to read.

I am sorry I grew up without you.

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Death and the Fool

Chapter 2: The Ace of Pentacles--Upright

Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Summary: Where the personification of Life believes she has no chance with Agatha Harkness after Death gets to her first

Spotify playlist here

Read on Ao3 here

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 |

Taglist: @hannah-0730 @loveshineslikethesky

“The Ace of Pentacles–Upright: Opportunity, prosperity, new adventures.”

__________

October 2026

The first thought that comes to your mind is not good. 

The house that stands in front of you looks just shy of completely mangled. The door has been ripped off its hinges, splintered into a thousand pieces. Outside, the flower box holds crushed shrubbery and chrysanthemums and the roof drain pipe is half way from completely falling off. 

You take a few measured steps forward and notice the mailbox is overflowing with mail. You sigh, roll your eyes, and continue towards the house.

Stepping through the door, you’re met with piles of splintered wood, and as you try to watch your footing, your eyes lock onto something familiar. Your heart lurches when your fingers touch it. The Triple Goddess pendant was all too familiar. You had known Agatha for over 300 years and she never once went anywhere without it.

You slip your nail beneath the clasp of the pendant. Inside is another familiar sight and you smile bitterly at the piece of dark hair before closing it again and dropping it in your pocket.

You can't see her, but Agatha’s voice is clear and distinct, and your chest warms hearing it for the first time in decades.

“Fine, I’m driving.”

There’s no chance of reacting when she rounds the corner as soon as the words escape her mouth.

You’re both frozen, staring each other down, and the kid behind her looks between yourself and Agatha.

“Hi,” he smiles, attempting to hop towards you. When he makes eye contact, something feels off about him. You recognize every single soul that walks the Earth. You create them from nothing, yet form them into everything. But this one, you don’t recognize. 

“I’m–” His mouth is forced shut and it looks almost as if his own skin is stretched over his lips. When a black squiggle paints itself over where his lips would be, you narrow your eyes at him.

Agatha reaches for a pair of scissors and cuts the rope from around the boy’s wrists, handing them to him, “Cut the rest of yourself free,” she sneers, “and go outside, you’re driving.”

He struggles to hop between the two of you, stumbling briefly on the wood chips, but managing to catch himself before he leaves for the grassy front yard. 

“He has a sigil,” you point out, watching him carefully.

“Yep. I’ve been calling him ‘Teen’,” she says. “He’s pretty insistent on not being a kid.” 

You turn your head to look back at her. “Rio said she ‘stopped by’.” You pause and look around at all the damage in the house–broken glass and china in the kitchen and more concerningly, blood on the floor. “It seems she left out some parts of her story.”

Agatha purses her lips, “Like trying to kill me?”

“Oh, I’m sure you enjoyed that, Aggie,” you sigh, leaning against the wall. “You were never one to shy away from a fight.”

Agatha’s stiff and cold demeanor didn’t falter, even at the nickname. “Why are you here?” she asks.

She’s so different from the Agatha you originally knew. The Agatha that would laugh at the stupidest jokes you’d tell her. The Agatha that would climb up a tree to scare you and Rio and laugh with that mischievous glint in her eye. The Agatha that would sing lullabies. 

Oh, how you miss the Sun.

“Just checking in,” you shrug. “Where are you driving to?”

“The last time I saw you–”

“You told me I’m too pure,” you butt in, remembering the memory that you aren’t too fond of. “You told me that I’d be corrupted by your ways if I did not leave. But I’ll tell you the same thing I told you that night, Aggie–Unlike Rio, I can find any soul, anywhere, at any time without her necessary process. No amount of dark magic can hide you from me, Agatha, and you cannot corrupt me. You cannot corrupt Life.”

She’s quiet for some before she glances at Teen, who sits on the grass, clearly distracted by his phone. Agatha leans in closely, lowering her voice, “We’re walking the Road.”

You pull back, searching her eyes for any sign of farce, “You said you would stop with the Road bullshit, Agatha. What is he, sixteen?”

“Well that was before Wanda Maximoff drained me of everything and stole the Darkhold…besides, I’m just having him drive me around collecting witches for the coven,” she shrugs. Agatha grins as she watches you sigh, “Why don’t you join us, hon?”

“Excuse me?”

Agatha takes a pair of sunglasses and cleans them off with her shawl before slipping them over her eyes and smiling at you. “You’ll be here with Rio to collect their souls after I drain them anyway. Why don’t you have a bit of fun?”

You want to say no. You want to say no so badly, but you don’t. Instead, you groan. “Fine, but I’m not having that kid drive me around. I’ll stay here and…clean up.”

“Sounds good, doll,” she smiles–and, oh, how you love when she smiles, especially when it has that mischievous undertone. Agatha steps over pieces of the door and exits through the doorway. “We’ll be back soon!”

When the pair of them leave you’re left to your own devices. You look around the entire first floor, ending in the kitchen. You let out an exasperated sigh, Rio really did a number on this place.

By the time you finish cleaning the house, it’s three o’clock and Agatha and Teen still aren’t back. You aren’t usually the type to snoop around but you’re so curious as to how Agatha’s been living the last few years.

In the room off the left of the foyer is the sitting room Agatha came out of. Afternoon light creeps in through the curtains but the lamps provide a warm ambience as you take a lap around the room. 

You don’t recognize a single person in the framed pictures–there’s a bearded man with an older woman who looks to be his mother, a picture of three women, and a bigger picture with a huge group of people all wearing shirts that read “Bohner Family Reunion”. 

There are collections of records and Blu-Ray discs from the previous owner and you rifle through them–a colossal amount of classic rock and movies that you know a guy would try to man-splain to you when you tell him that you “just don’t get it”. 

On the partition wall separating the sitting room from the dining room, there are at least thirty pictures and pieces of paper covered in red ink. Upon further inspection, the pictures are nothing but daisies and patches of grass, and the ink on the papers are just random letters and scribbled lines. You think back to your conversation with Rio the previous night.

“She’s gone all true crime and thinks she’s trying to solve a murder. It’s kind of funny actually, I’ve been playing along.”

When you go upstairs that’s when you see the little touches of the real Agatha. The door to her bedroom is open and you amble in. Her bed is unmade and you’re not one bit surprised after having asked her decades ago why she doesn’t make it. 

“I’m gonna be sleeping in it again tonight, why the hell would I go through all that effort just to mess it up again?” she had replied.

On her nightstand is a ceramic bunny figurine. Closer to the bed is an empty wine glass with the smallest bit of dried red at the bottom, and beside that is a bottle of ibuprofen and a half-way read through book.

In her closet are all different decades of clothing–50’s, 60’s, 70’s, 80’s, 90’s, and the 2000’s. You find leg warmers and laugh to yourself, imagining Agatha Harkness wearing these brightly colored monstrosities over whatever workout fit she was wearing. Your favorite, however, is the 50’s and 60’s section. You can remember those years so vividly, going to diners with her and drive-in movies after she finished “walking the Road” again.

After closing the closet your attention is pulled to a chair across the room. You walk over to it and see there’s a pair of black boots, a folded white blouse with purple slacks, and a teal trench coat hanging over the back of the chair. On top of the neatly folded blouse is a small envelope with Rio’s familiar handwriting, reading, Agatha.

The sound of Agatha’s voice reaches your ears. You look at the clock and it’s almost four. You’re able to hear her voice clearly, snapping back a snarky remark when Teen asks her where she’s going. 

She’s in the doorway of her room quicker than you realize and when you turn around she has that sly smile that makes you weak in the knees each time. 

“The house looks good,” Agatha says, tossing her shawl and hat on the bed. 

“Thanks, who did you steal it from?” you tease.

“I don’t know,” she huffs. “Some guy named Ralph…or Randall? Robert? I don’t know. I–What the hell is that?” 

She walks quickly over to where you are and snatches the note from the folded clothes. After tearing it open, she scans the lines and rolls her eyes, balling the paper up and throwing it away in the bathroom.

“She does know your style!” you chuckle. You take the clothes from the chair and bring them to her, smiling softly when she glares at them. “Just put them on, Aggie. You want to look good when “walking the Witches’ Road”, don’t you?”

She looks at you, fighting herself before sighing, completely defeated. “Fine. But I’m not going to like it.”

“I don’t expect you to,” you smile, chuckling as she shuts the door in your face.

You have to remind yourself to breathe when Agatha steps out of the bathroom. She could wear a potato sack, a garbage bag, and she’d still be the most beautiful woman you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

“Right,” she huffs, looking at herself in a full length mirror. “How do I look?”

You could answer in a million ways. You could tell her that the way she has her hair pinned up makes you want to place a thousand kisses over the exposed skin. You could tell her that she looks so good you want to rip the blouse she’s wearing open and have her take you right there. That the way her hands adjust the collar of the jacket makes unspeakable thoughts fill your mind.

But you don’t say that.

“Good!” you say. 

She looks at you through the mirror, grins, and turns around. “Good?”

“Amazing!” you correct yourself.

“Amazing?” she repeats. “Hm…Thank you.”

You take a deep breath and let it out. “You’re missing something, though.” 

Under the curious eye of Agatha, you step closer to her and reach into your pocket. When you grasp the pendant of the necklace and pull it out she visibly tenses. But you don’t acknowledge it. Instead, you move closer and reach around her neck, clasping it in place and adjusting it to lay beneath the collar of her blouse. Your fingers straighten out the pendant before pulling away. 

It’s quiet. 

Your eyes meet and you can see something in her soften. 

“Where did you find it?” Agatha asks quietly.

“Amidst the pile of door that Rio left behind,” you answer, letting out a quiet hum. “You’re not you without it and I know how much it means to you.”

“Is his–”

“Yes,” you cut in. “It’s still in there.”

She gives you a subtle nod. “Thank you,” she murmurs.

“You’re welcome,” you whisper, and you can almost swear you saw her eyes glance down at your lips. “You should probably get downstairs. Who knows what Teen is getting up to?”

Agatha scoffs, “Not much probably. Teenagers these days are too soft.”

Downstairs, you see Teen, who has set out what he calls “Pre-Road appetizers”. Over the mantel, he’s taped up a sign that reads “Welcome Coven”.

“I think it’s cute,” you shrug, watching as Agatha tears it down and huffs.

“No, leave it up,” a voice behind you says. “Really sets the mood.”

Teen breaks out into a smile and beckons her in. “Please, come in! Right, Agatha?”

“I don’t care, I mean whatever…” she mutters. Agatha seems mildly annoyed at this situation and you’re finding it hard to reserve a smile.

When Teen offers the new witch a “pre-Road appetizer”, she declines just to be overshadowed by another woman behind her.

“I don’t mind a lapsed expiration date,” she chirps, taking a bite of the expired granola bar. She pauses as she looks at the witch beside her, “High Priestess.”

“Jennifer Kale, potions,” she says.

“Lilia Calderu, divination,” the second one says. She narrows her eyes. “You’re bound.”

“And you need a chemical peel,” Jen retorts, much to Lilia’s dismay.

Behind them, a third woman appears and sighs. “This is never going to work. Your front door is missing.”

“Alice!” Teen exclaims with a bright smile. “How did you find us?”

“I’m an ex-cop,” she shrugs. “That’s gonna be my answer to a lot of questions.”

Impatient, and completely over the introductions, Agatha sighs loudly and claps her hands. “Okay!” she chirps. “We’ve got everyone! Let’s go!”

“Um, what about the green witch?” Jennifer asks.

Agatha scoffs. “Oh, we don’t need one of those! Let’s g–”

“Yes, we do!” Lilia insists.

“Green magic is arguably the most important of the skill sets needed for the road,” Jen says.

After more bickering, Agatha finally relents and leaves the house to retrieve the “green witch”. An awkward silence falls over the room as you all wait for her to come back, and it felt longer than it actually was.

“Okay!” Agatha cheers. “I’ve got our green witch! This is Mrs. Hart.”

A small woman stands beside Agatha, smiling as she greets everyone. “Oh, actually, it’s Sharon!”

You can see Agatha becoming visibly frustrated at the revelry, but she hides it (and not well) with an overly cheery smile. “Alright, let’s go!”

You and Agatha stand together with Teen in between you. You watch as the coven takes in their surroundings. Lilia strolls around, nosing around in the boxes on the shelves while Sharon, Jennifer, and Alice stand there awkwardly.

“Do you think we’ll need another car?” Teen asks. “I don’t think everyone will fit in mine.”

Agatha sighs, “You don’t drive to the Road, Teen. The Road is conjured. In fact, why don’t you go upstairs.” She turns him around and despite his protests, keeps pushing him toward the stairs. “Yeah, let’s getcha up there. Let the adults handle this.”

When he leaves the basement, Agatha turns to you, “Go with him. Make sure he doesn’t come down here.”

The sun is almost completely set when you and Teen make it upstairs. The dim lighting leaves an eerie glow around the house and it’s almost unsettling as you watch Teen explore the living room. When he gasps and picks up Agatha’s rabbit, there’s a twinge in your chest and it feels like you’re seeing Nicky for the first time again.

But your thoughts are interrupted when Teen drops the rabbit and slowly walks outside. You follow closely behind him, “What are y–shit.” 

Agatha had made sure your priority was keeping him from going back down into the basement, but that priority had changed. Now, as you stare face to face with the Salem Seven, your priority has changed: protect Teen and make sure they never reach Agatha.

You pull Teen back, “Get inside, now!” 

You can hear the faint sound of the ballad below the floorboards as you cast a protection spell over the vacant doorway in an attempt to hold them off. Teen pulls the nearest couch over and blocks the entrance. He moves to another room and it’s quiet–and you know that means nothing good. 

Teen’s scream from the other room makes you react before you can even think. You run to him, pulling him behind you just before one of the Seven can reach him. You cast another spell, sending one of them flying into the wall before you turn and run to find Teen.

You can hear shouting below you and just like that, it stops. You know what that means. This wasn’t the first time you’ve witnessed it. 

Teen’s screaming echoes through the house and you can hear him running towards the basement. “Agatha!” he shrieks. “Agatha!”

You run after him, just on his tail as he makes it to the basement. “Teen! Wait!”

“Is this the Road?” you hear him shout. “Is this the Road, because we should really get going!”

And now you’re nothing but confused. 

Is this the Road? 

The Road? “The Road” should be three dead witches and Agatha’s neighbor.

And then you reach the bottom of the stairs. 

You pause and stare at Agatha. The air feels electric and the very thought of the Salem Seven leaves your mind, because when you look up from the hexagon door, your eyes meet and you both share the same questions:

Where did that come from? And why is it here?

[sunarots]

bed chem ━━━ iwaizumi hajime

09. to compete or not compete ♡

“No.”

Tomeka looks at you as though you shat on her desk while she watched. Her hands are clasped before her face with her lips pursed into a pout. With narrowed eyes behind her glasses, she takes a pause before shooting you down in response.

“Look, l/n, I understand that you’re anxious. That fall could have been serious, and I am very glad that you are not injured. However I have already named you and Oikawa as a pair and, if I don’t replace him in the pairs, he won’t be allowed to compete in the solos. Neither will you.”

What? Pull you from the competition? Your jaw slackens at the thought of not competing, heart sinking. Despite your desperation to start begging Tomeka to change her mind, you have to remind yourself that begging might do more damage than it’s worth.

“Well, I’m not dancing with anyone else in the team. I want to do lifts, and I don’t trust them.” You shrug your shoulders and lean back in the chair, waiting patiently for Tomeka to respond.

A part of you was hoping she would give in and reveal she was lying, but instead her expression softens and she nods in agreement. She rises from her chair and waves you to follow after her.

Oh no.

“I had a feeling that would be the case, so I spoke it over with the coach of the hockey team.”

Oh no.

You follow her out towards the rink where the team are finishing up their morning practice. She smiles at some students she knows and pats her husband’s shoulder on the way past.

“Iwaizumi-kun, can you come here?”

Oh no.

You want to start screaming; throw a tantrum in front of everybody to convey your disgust at the thought. There are fifteen people on this team, and she had to choose him? What about Matsukawa? He could do it, easily!

Iwaizumi looks between you and the coach as he removes his helmet. “Sure.” He sets it on the bench and steps away from Hanamaki.

Tomeka has you both sit on the benches, standing in front of you both. “Captain of the hockey team needs good grades, commitment, and talent. You have all three. You are most suited for figure skating.”

Iwaizumi’s jaw drops wide open at the comment, you’re almost shocked it didn’t dislocate. He stares at Tomeka in disbelief before bursting into a fit of laughter. “Yeah, no chance.”

Instantly, you push yourself to your feet. “Well, we can’t force him!” A nervous laugh slips out. “I just… won’t compete.”

You know it’s complete, utter bullshit from the second it forms on your tongue.

Tomeka knows this and she makes it clear. She places one hand on her hip and eyes you up and down. “So you’re willing to sacrifice your title?”

No. Never in a million years. That title is yours, and you’ll be damned if anyone tries to claim it.

You slowly sit back down and start trying to figure out what you should say to Iwaizumi. All your desperation is about to come tumbling out of your mouth, ready to drop on your knees and hold his legs until he has no choice but to agree.

It’s then you realise something: he almost broke your nose. He tried to give you flowers when you were in the middle of a conversation with your coach. He was a dick to you first. Then he continued it. He owes you this.

So that’s exactly what you tell him. He looks at you with an amused smile, ready to start laughing along with you (because apparently you’re a comedian mow?). When he’s met with a deadpan look shielding what he assumes is either the wrath of a thousand suns or a year-long depressive episode, a sigh slips out.

“If I agree, will you be nice to me?” Iwaizumi assumes that’s a reasonable question to ask — he clearly doesn’t know you that well.

“Will you actually try or are you going to keep being a raging cunt?”

Tomeka claps her hands together to shut you both up, her glare sending a shiver down your spine. “Here’s an idea for you both. Work together, or I won’t have you competing, and you will be on the bench for the entire season.” She points between the two of you with a twisted smile. “How does that sound?”

With a heavy sigh, Iwaizumi turns to face you. “Fine. But watch that fucking tone, or I’m out.”

“Right back at you.”

masterlist. previous | next

summary. when an unfortunate incident kicks you out of your university and risks your reputation as one of the top figures skater in the country, you find your place in sendai. but when you discover they only have one rink, designated to their a-league hockey team, your chance at a comeback slips from your grasp. your only in is with the captain of the hockey team. the issue with that? he couldn’t care less who you are.

taglist (45/50). @standcom @thoughtswithbbg @aboutkiyoomi @angtopia @yunavx @celestialm1nd @surfeitstar @xiaoquanquans @istann @aldebrana @mdmraz @softpia @less-chaotic-brain @wakashudou @mo072806 @90s-belladonna @wave2mia @rrosiitas @suuunarin @chaotic-neutral-ig @nanasrkives @hrithi11 @hantas-left-eyebrow @itsdragonius @sexylexy12 @0rangej0e @wordsofelie @p4lli @a-sorrowful-tune @iluv-ace @matt444nixi @charleslec-airlines @meekydeeks @amterasuu @rabbitcola @sickpatientt @sophiahearttss @himec @torkorpse @nscuit @labsbedamned @iloveiwaizumihajime @snoowply @followingmysunsposts @navymacaroons @lover-no-lover61

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

For writing requests, could you write something with Wind and an older sister reader?

Glycerine

Pairing: Wind & Reader

Warning(s): None, just some found-sibling fluff!

Notes: Inspired by "Glycerine" by Bush. This is actually a bit angsty so prepare yourself lol.

Masterlist

You found Wind on the beach, sitting on the pale sand as his outstretched legs toed the line between surf and sand. It was a beautiful afternoon on Onset; the sun was high, the sky was clear, and tears had no place on the young hero's salt-swept cheeks.

"Wind?" you called, toes scrunching when they met sun-warmed granules, your boots kicked casually onto the grassy bank meters away. "Buddy?"

There was a gasp. The Sailor's shoulders jumped. He whirled to face you, already rubbing beneath his sea-colored eyes with a fist. He said your name, once, and forced a smile that looked entirely too watery for comfort. "H-Hey... I thought you were teaching Aryll how to sew."

You shrugged, taking a seat beside him. A part of you wanted to cringe at the thought of all the sand you would undoubtedly find on yourself when this was over, but a larger, stronger part whispered that it was worth it. For him. "I was, but she's a quick learner, like someone else I know."

Another soft, uncharacteristic smile, nothing like the blinding grins he usually treated you with. The muscles in your jaw ached as they fought to keep a neutrally-friendly expression. "Yeah," said Wind, sneaking unusually pensive glances at the roaring ocean. "Wild's pretty sharp, huh?"

Your brow furrowed. You scooted an inch closer. "I meant you, kid."

This time, he looked at you. This time, he seemed to see you. "I'm sorry," he apologized. A habit, you assumed, though it was wholly unnecessary. Tone heavy with an emotion that had your heart twisting in your chest, he continued: "I've just been... thinking."

Oh dear, it was one of those days. You planted your hands behind you, using them as makeshift anchors to lean back a few inches. A thick, salty breeze swept through the beach, further ruffling Wind's nest of hair. You debated running back to the house to grab a brush, but refrained. "About?"

Silence. You didn't push, but you did watch. Red-rimmed eyes, fidgeting hands, suspicious stains on the sleeves of his tunic. In so many ways, Wind was a fully-fledged adult. He could fight, swear, and scream, but it was always the little things that reminded you just how young he was.

The hero chewed his lip, knees drawing up to his chest. Your eyes flicked to the pants he wore–a gaudy orange that you weren't sure had come from teenage rebellion or a treacherously misguided fashion sense–and immediately settled on a small rip near the right ankle.

"I know Legend's prickly, but he'll help you with those if you ask," you mused, almost to yourself. Wind immediately glanced at his pants, and a heavy breath slipped past his chapped lips. Too sad, too old; something was definitely wrong.

"Oh, wow, I hadn't..."

'Noticed it' went unsaid, so you decided to fill the silence.

"You're only going to miss her more if you stay out here," the words slipped off your tongue like silk, though they could have weighed more than a thousand sparkling suns. Maybe they did, and you were simply used to the reality where hard things were said without a second glance.

"She'll miss me if I go back," said the young, vibrant, effervescent hero in a tone that was so melancholic that you briefly considered calling Time over from the comfort of the home's sleeping area, but the memory of him downing no less than four bottles of Elixer Soup suggested the eldest hero had plans that didn't include comforting whichever boy decided today was the day for a long-awaited existential crisis.

You sighed. You closed the distance, wrapping your arm around Wind's shoulders. They were broader than you remembered, but you'd be damned if you let the fact that he was growing intercede with hug timeTM. It didn't take long for the Sailor to accept his fate, shoulders finally dropping as he exhaled a breath typically observed in divorced men in their forties. You'd have to tell Warriors that one. "It's hylian nature to miss someone," you said; gently, not because he was a child, but because he needed it. "It means she cares. Means you care."

"Does it?" was Wind's response, and you couldn't help the snort that escaped you.

"Of course it does," you paused to let the meaning sink in, then added with a conspiratorial grin: "Didn't anyone tell you not to question your elders?"

Wind's ears perked up, but you couldn't find it in you to regret giving him an in. "Yeesh, I didn't know you were that old."

"Rude, I'm actually like, super young," you huffed, injecting as much faux irritation into your tone to hide the fact that you were secretly rejoicing the spectacular return of his borrowed dad jokes, because, really, one could only spend so much time around Warriors and Time before they too found themselves corrupted. You shifted in the sand, gaze turning to the sun, hovering above the horizon like a firebrand, and a small part of you was glad Twilight was currently consumed with that tile game Four played almost religiously. "It's getting late," you told the Sailor. Softly. Kindly.

Wind's toes curled in the waterlogged granules. A foaming wave washed forward, crashing against the boy's pruning skin. His response was a mere whisper above the roaring surf. "She cried when I left," a sandy-colored head leaned against your arm, soft enough that you could have pretended it wasn't there at all.

"Everyone cries, Link," you reassured him, though the results had yet to be seen. "It's what makes us hylian."

Silence.

You heaved a breath.

"Give your sister a hug, kid."

A pair of arms wrapped around your waist, and The Hero of the Winds began to cry in earnest.

"How is he?"

You were torn from your thoughts at the sound of Warriors' voice, glancing up at the Captain, who looked just as tired as you felt. His armor was nowhere in sight, leaving him in an off-white button-up and a pair of tan trousers.

A sigh forced itself from your lips, and you finally spared a glance at the sleeping boy on the mat next to you, one of your arms caged in his tight embrace while the other rested on your stomach. It had taken some convincing--and a hell of a lot of luck--to get the youngest hero into bed, and you hadn't the heart to tug yourself away when he latched onto you, face buried in the soft flesh of your bicep.

"Better," was your response, the ghost of a yawn tugging at the heels of your words. "If you couldn't tell, he's had a rough day."

The floor creaked as Warriors got comfortable beside you, keeping a respectful distance as he settled on one arm, gazing down at the both of you. "I'll say," he murmured, quiet enough that you hardly heard it. A pause, then: "You should rest."

This time, you didn't bother stifling your yawn, uncaring of how it might negatively affect your case. "Someone's gotta keep watch, Wars."

The Captain was unimpressed, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow in obvious disagreement. You were almost jealous. "Yes, me. You're going to have just as rough a day as the Sailor if you don't sleep."

You rolled your eyes, hoping to draw things out as much as possible. You didn't want to leave Wind alone, you couldn't. "Pshh, who needs sleep?"

The floor groaned just as Warriors opened his mouth to offer what you assumed to be a spectacularly-planned rebuttal, only to let it click shut when Time's rumbling baritone filled the small room. Fuck. "What's this about sleep?"

Warriors cerulean eyes found yours, and it was a battle unto itself not to hiss at the smug glint that filled them. He nudged your shoulder, and you went ramrod straight, praying it wasn't enough to disturb Wind. "Just trying to convince a certain someone that insomnia isn't the answer."

That jerk!

"Is that so?" You could practically feel Time's gaze on you. Piercing, all-knowing; like a fucking owl. The floor groaned once more, and you turned your head to watch Time settle on your other side, directly behind Wind. Between him and Warriors, this was turning into a very unnecessary hylian sandwich. "The Captain is correct," said the eldest hero in a tone that sounded like he was laying down a law rather than talking about something as mundane as needing sleep. "Rest. We'll take turns."

"After you drank all that sleepy-time soup? I think not," you shot back, feeling a bit braver than usual. Maybe it was the night, or maybe it was because some twisted part of you wanted to be the only one to protect the youngest hero. "You two need it more than me. It's hard being old."

The Captain sputtered in quiet disbelief. Legend would be proud. "You think I'm old?"

"Actually, the word I meant was 'ancient'–"

"You're so lucky the Sailor's here."

"What're you going to do, lecture me to death–?"

"Quiet, you two," Time interjected, sounding every bit the old man that he was. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, allowing yourself to fall silent for Wind's sake. Warriors made a huffing sound, but also quieted, shuffling to lean against one of the beams protruding from the wall. "There's no reason for all of us to stay up," ugh, that's why you were doing it for them! The Hero of Time said your name like an errant child, followed by a very punctuated: "Go to sleep."

There was no fighting with Time, you knew. He would win, and you would still be on your back next to the youngest hero whether you wanted it or not. Fucking heroes, always trying to look out for others before themselves, and Hylia knew the boys practically drooled at the prospect.

With a drawn-out sigh that rivaled Wind's in supposed age, you let your head fall against the woven mat, a springy thing that would have coaxed you to sleep hours ago had it not been for the boy clinging to your arm. "Fine," you relented, a mere breath in the inky, candle-shadowed expanse of the room. Eyes shut, but not asleep, you mumbled: "Night, Wars, Time."

Warriors' arm stretched over your stomach, his hand reaching to pat down the hem of Wind's shirt as it stretched up, revealing pearly flashes of the Sailor's skin, warm with sleep and rising with steady breaths, not unlike the gentle rocking of a ship upon the Great Sea's waters. Even after the youngest hero's modesty had once again been preserved, the Captain didn't move his arm, and you suspect its purpose was as much to keep you in place as it was to correct a potential wardrobe malfunction. "You're a jerk," you mumbled in half-hearted exasperation.

The Hero of Warriors' chuckle was loud in your ear. "Takes one to know one."

"Children," said Time from the other end of the sandwich, and you rightfully shut up. Fuck him, you could wield a sword as well as any of the others, which meant you were basically an adult by those criteria alone. Plus, you were dashingly attractive and that had to count for something!

Whatever, dad, you thought with an imaginary eye roll, because the eldest hero practically had eyes on the back of his head. He would know, and you were in no mood for another lecture after the one you received for aiding Wild in his quest to ride animals that were most certainly not meant to be ridden.

Sleep never came easy when you were worried, but something was different. While Warriors wasn't mashing himself to your side like Wind seemed intent of doing, the Captain was no less warm, and it was a battle not to hum when an errant insect brought him scooting closer, the heat from his chest soaking into your other arm. It was becoming increasingly obvious: you were trapped by these lovable dorks, and when Time's miraculously un-armored arm swung over to plant across the three of you, the deal was all but sealed.

Darkness blackened the corners of your vision, and the last thing you saw was Wind's sleep-soaked grin uptick in the candlelight.

Someone was calling your name.

You cracked your weary eyes open, ears straining to catch the ghostly mumble of your name; a strange, simultaneously booming and whispered call that seemed to ring in the very recesses of your eardrums. A soft groan left your mouth, only for something to slap down on your face.

"Shh, shh, they'll wake up!"

...Huh??

There was something– nay, someone above you. Someone with stormy blue eyes, wavy blonde hair, and–

"Wind?"

Wind grinned at the sound of his name, his teeth glimmering porcelain in the faint candlelight. His hands returned to your shoulders, shaking softly, and you realized you were still in bed, surrounded by the limp, sound-asleep frames of Time and Warriors, the latter of whose arm was still slung tightly around your stomach. "That's me," he whispered, nearly vibrating with excitement. Ominous, but you were here for it. And, as if the Goddesses themselves had heard your plea for answers that weren't complete horseshit, he continued: "I thought of a new game to play! But I need to test it out first."

Ah, right. If anyone liked games, it was Wind, and you were his all-too-gullible partner-in-crime. Only, these types of exchanges usually occurred at respectful hours of the morning or afternoon, prompting another, less exhausted groan from your mouth. "Can't this wait until morning, bud?"

The Sailor paused to consider the conundrum. "I just..." fuck, he was bringing out the wet baby seal eyes. Little bastard knew you didn't stand a chance. "I don't want to forget it..."

As predicted, your resolve crumbled in the face of his patented sad animal eyes. "Okay, okay," you relented, sitting up on your elbows, keeping your tone especially low to keep the adults trapped in their slumber. "But you have to help me get past Wars, yeah?"

"Duh," was his response, and you had no choice but to crack an equally conspiratorial grin as the Sailor helped you lift Warriors' arm up. He held it as you slid free, snagging a stack of blankets from the corner as a decoy.

Until the Captain grunted, expression scrunching as he registered the change in warmth, and your soul nearly burst out of your chest. Gently, shoving Wind to the side, you bent down to whisper in the Captain's ear in your best barmaid sexy voice: "I'll be just a moment, sugar, then we can continue where we left off ;)"

Another grumble left Warriors mouth, but it was significantly softer, and punctuated by a smacking noise as he attempted to kiss the blanket pile, which would have made for spectacular blackmail, if you were being honest. Where was Wild's Shiekah Slate when you needed it?! With the Captain distracted, you slipped around him, linked arms with Wind, and skipped into the pseudo-darkness like the troublemakers you were.

Once outside, you turned to the Sailor. "So! What's up, buttercup?"

"Well..." and thus began Wind's explanation of his latest 'game', which honestly sounded more like an excuse to run around on the beach than something with actual rules, but, once again, you were here for it. Until he got to the part about rolling in the waves in the dark. Especially when he got to the part about rolling in the waves in the dark.

When he was done, you placed your hands on your hips and grinned like the responsible older sibling you totally were. "That sounds super unsafe, so it'll totally be fun!"

Wind's mirroring grin could have outshone the sun, which was especially helpful considering it was nearly pitch black outside. "Right?! I bet we can get Wild to play today, too!"

"Wait, don't you mean tomorrow?"

"Huh? It's totally today; you were asleep for a while."

"...Wind, were you watching me sleep?"

"What? No! That was Time," the Sailor jammed his thumb into his chest, not passing up an opportunity to throw shade on his brothers. "I have manners."

You raised your hands in faux distress. "Ah, my mistake, good sir! My deepest apologies."

"You should be!" There was a roar, and Wind's head instantly whipped to the foaming surf. "Okay, let's go play before Time and Warriors wake up."

"I'd love nothing more," you patted his shoulder, subsequently raising your palm to meet his in a high-five that rang through the beach like a particularly juice ass slap. Not that you knew what one of those sounded like, per se, but with Legend and Warriors' playful rivalry still going strong, you didn't need to.

"Last one to the waves is a crab!" Wind yelled, dashing towards the waves, with you hot on his heels as an answering whoop tore from your throat.

The game without rhyme or rhythm carried well into the night, until the early morning light bathed the crashing ocean and footstep-marred sand, kicked up from hours of play. Your legs ached from running, and you were sure even Sky could have overtaken you in a race at this point, but it didn't matter. You were free, and you were having fun.

"Can't catch me!" Wind screamed in delight when you tried to tag him, dancing just out of reach like the agile little shit that he was, but you had been preparing for this moment your entire life, using the last of your energy to perform a sort of lunging dive, catching him in the stomach and sending the both of you rolling into the shallow waves, coughing and sputtering as you fought to catch your breath, soaked from head-to-toe and damn proud of it.

"You were saying, you slippery munchkin?!" you giggled, nose throat sore from all the saltwater inhaled over the course of the night. The Sailor sorted, reaching into the shallows and flicking a clump of seaweed at your face. You shrieked and dodged spectacularly, but he was ready with another, larger wad that managed to smack against your cheek, effectively sending you into another half-sputter, half-laughing fit as gallons of saltwater soaked the thick fabric of your tunic and trousers.

"Eat weed, loser!"

"Never!"

Your hand sunk into the sand and, before you knew it, a large clump of it was flung in Wind's direction, catching him in the blue-clothed chest.

Wind gasped.

"Oh, it's ON."

The following ten minutes devolved into what could only be described as a sand-ball fight to the death. Sand was thrown, dignity was abandoned, and you were absolutely positive you would be picking granules out of your holes and hair for the next month, but the sound of his laughter was worth every single grain.

It was only when the front door to the house slammed open and a near-frantic Warriors stumbled outside did you pause, sand pouring from your half-cocked hand. "WHERE–" the Captain caught sight of the two of you, covered in dirt and grinning like the maniacs you were, and simultaneously looked like ten years of his life had been spontaneously snatched away. Rumor has it his groan could be heard on the next island over. "–oh, you've got to be kidding me..."

"I'm a crab!" You called over the waves, eager for yet another opportunity to screw with him.

"Actually, you're a–" Warriors paused, placing his hands together like he was about to pray that your stupidity didn't infect him, too. His mouth moved with exhausted desperation: "Calm, Link, calm."

You and Wind exchanged a glance, but it was quickly broken when Time's silhouette filled the doorway, face curiously blank as he surveyed the scene over the defeated captain's shoulder.

A beat passed.

Time turned on his heel. Time went back inside, steps heralded by Warriors' betrayed whimper. You and Wind high-fived.

It wasn't always easy staying positive when it came to life, but with them, you were willing to try.

Whew! That was a long one! I was super inspired for this, and I hope y'all enjoyed!!

A 'lil extra for y'all:

"Time to get back to bed... sugar," Warriors visibly cringed at your appointed nickname, arms crossed over his chest, and Time looked a hairs-breadth away from smacking his palm to his forehead in exasperation.

You and Wind exchanged a glance that spoke a thousand words. Ignoring the vexed shouts from the older heroes, the Sailor jumped on your back and the two of you sped off into the sunrise, whooping like the madlads you were.