#step 1: get him to fall in love with you.
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IM CRYING IM CRYING MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY HAS BEEN ALTERED I AM NOT THE SAME PERSON I WAS 1 FIC AGO THIS WAS SOOOOOOOOO INCREDIBLY WELL WRITTEN ITS TERRIBLE WHY COS WTF DO YOU MEAN IM NOT YN I HATE HER SHUT THE FUCK UP THAT SHOULD BE ME LOBOTOMY RIGHT FUCKING NO
I feel like I just watched a movie. I don't smoke I don't want to promote any form of smoking whatsoever but I need a blunt. That's the only way I can describe this feeling. I'm devastated
I fucking hate it here. Except that's a lie I don't BUT I DO COS THAT SHOULD BE MEEEEE.
The way you write is exceptional phenomenal amazing incredible it's so vivid I can taste it my brain will never recover I am marked with insanity the way you describe everything is amazing like THE SMALL DETAILS THE PINING THE YEARNING THE SMUTT 🫦🫦🫦🫦 THE SMUTTTT FUCK SHIT FUCK SHIT I NEED TO BE PUT DOWN
You sighed, ignoring the way the Gryffindor common room fireplace made his brown eyes almost golden, freshly brewed espresso with nutty foam.
Like thiiisssss wHAT DO YOU MEAN ITS SO GOOD I WISH I COULD ABSORB YOUR BRAIN CELLS. ALSO *snaps fingers* EARTH TO YN???? mama hello u good u are in love stfu eat him or move over so *I* CAN YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT
But George was your friend, as you often repeated to yourself in moments like these, when that mischievous smirk softened to a smile just for you.
DENIAL IS A RIVER IN EGYPT
You tried to reimmerse yourself in your studies, but can’t seem to fall back into the reading, losing track of each sentence before it’s finished.
🙄✋ be fr
George had been pestering you for weeks to spend a portion of the upcoming holiday break with him at the Weasley household, and up until now, you’d successfully resisted. But then he found out your grandparents were going on a trip to Spain for two weeks and became unbearable.
Like honestly girl be so fucking for real HO IS U BLIND ❓❓❓ HE CLEARLY HAS THE HOTS FOR YOU I MIGHT HAVE TO BREAK A FUCKER HELLO?????
It was unnerving, exhilirating, and by far the most important relationship in your young life. Which is why you squashed any wandering thought about his freckles, his jawline, the way his forearms flexed while he read, or the way his chest heaved after a Quidditch match, his hands spidered with veins after hours of gripping the Beater’s Bat.
She's ravenclaw but the stupidest broom in the closet *walks out*
“Not a date!” You tossed over your shoulder as you stepped through the portrait.
BE SO FUCKING FOR REAL YOU IDJIT UGHHHHHHHH *SHOOTS LASER BEAMS IN UR FUCKING FACE*
“I do,” he murmured, ushering you inside and into his mother’s waiting embrace.
... Bestie I'm not even gonna lie to you I don't remember the context of this but I'm sure the correct response is HES SO UGHHH BARK BARK HAHAAHAH LOL
He coughed something that sounded an awful lot like ‘incendio’ into his elbow, wand hand flicking under the table at the same moment. Percy leapt up, the crotch of his trousers igniting with flame.
RAW. TIL THE SKIN FALL OFF. NO HE WAS SO HOT FOR THIS... BADUM TSS UGH HES SO FUCKKKKINNGGGGG RAAHHH I DONT EVEN KNOW EHAT TO SAY IM JUST BARKING
“Could’ve been a little more subtle,” Fred chastised George with a smirk.
“I wasn’t going for subtlety,” George replied. “I was going for ‘burning his bollocks off’.”
YOUR HONOR I LOVE THEM WHAT I CANNOT
You found yourself searching for his eyes across the room, smiling at silly things he’d said hours prior, ghosting your fingers over the places he’d brushed against you while passing by. You’d even take a whiff of his coat when he’d come in after a walk with Charlie and tossed it onto the banister.
...............I'm eyeing this low IQ bottom of the barrel brains moron NASTY. MY LOOK AT YN IS SO NASTY RIGHT NOW WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN *SLAPS HER* GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS AND EAT HIS ASS I WILL BREAK YOUR FUCKING NECK YOURE SO DOWN BAD BUT SO IS YOUR DEPTH PERCEPTION APPARENTLY IDDDDIOTTTTT
George, that bottomless bundle of fizzing energy, seemed even more lively around his favorite people, his heart on full display. And, if you were honest, it was doing funny things to your head and heart.
I would die for him. Girl PLEASSEEE
He caught your wrist in his soapy hand, turning you back towards him. Your heart leapt into your throat at the intensity of his gaze, his jaw feathering with tension as his eyes searched your face. They were so dark, nearly black from his dilated pupils. His dry hand rose slowly, as if afraid you might startle. He dragged the back of his fingers along your cheek before sliding them into the hair at the nape of your neck.
THE WAY MY STOMACH DROPPED GIRL. GIRL. GIRL. GIRLLLL.
THIS WAS SO FUCKING SATISFYING I CANT EVEN TELL YOU I WAS FOAMING IN THE FUCKKNG MOUTH AND I CANT SAY I EVEN EXAGGERATING I FELT MY SALIVA IN MY MOUTH I need to be put down
“Ahem,” someone cleared their throat and you sprang away from George, grabbing a plate as if they hadn’t seen what you were doing. Bill leaned against the doorway, a knowing smirk on his face.
🧍♀️😃👋 HI BILL IF ITS ANY CONSOLATION I ALSO THINK UR HOT *RUNS AWAY* FUCKING HELL
Thanks to your distraction, Percy missed an easy move, giving George the first upper hand of the game. You leaned a bit into Percy’s space, and his hands began to tremble. When you walked away, he compensated for his hesitation with a rash move, exposing his Queen.
Oh damn she playing mind games. Respect
You made your move, but didn’t stop dragging your foot up and along his knee, skimming his inner thigh. He sat up a little straighter, narrowing his eyes at the board, and you expected him to make his move, when you feel a hand clasp around your ankle, his touch a brand even through your thick stockings. His eyes lifted to yours, and the hunger in them stole your breath.
🧍♀️🧍♀️🧍♀️🧍♀️🧍♀️🧍♀️😃😃😃✋✋✋✋✋✋✋✋✋ IN FRONT OF THE WHOLE WEASLEY CLAN UHMMMMMM UHHHHH HUHHHHH🧍♀️🧍♀️🧍♀️🧍♀️🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🛑🛑🛑🛑🛑🛑 HELLO??????? I DONT THIS STUPID ASS BIRD BRAIN LIL SHIT SHE WAS DOWN BAD *smokes a blunt* fuckING WHAT WHY
His family laughed, reminding you that you were, in fact, completely surrounded by his parents and siblings, and you dropped your foot. That fucking trickster, he knew exactly how to get under your skin.
✋✋✋✋✋✋✋✋✋✋✋✋ GIRL IM SAYING UHHH U GOT WAYYYY TOOOO COMFORTABLE WAYYYYY TO QUICKLY HELLO POLICE 🚨🚨🚨🚓🚓🚓🚓
You risked removing one hand to show him what a real bird looks like, and he barked a laugh before banking away from you.
WAIT THE PART WHERE HE WAS TEASING HER ABOUT BEING CALLED FEATHERS WAS SUPER CUTE AND THIS WAS SO WITTY AND CUTE AND AHHH
“George,” you cut him off. “Right now, I need you.”
?????????? THE WAY THIS GOT ME SCROLLING BACK TO SEE THEY WERE IN FACT ON A COUCH WHICH MEANS THEY WERE- ARE IN THE LIVING ROOM???? HUHHHH HMMMMMMM HELLO TALK ABOUT LIVING ON EDGE IDK I COULD BE WRONG BUT ALSO I had to calm myself from the idea that someone could walk in on them with the reassurance you wouldn't hurt me and destroy me so ardently. And you didn't. You a real one for that. UGHHHHH. anyway. All of that + BARKING BARKING SO MUCH.
“Shh, baby. You have to be quiet f’me.” George nudged your shirt up with his fingers, kissing along the purplish bruises marring your stomach. “My poor girl.” His thumbs traced the curves of your stomach softly, almost reverent as he gazed up at you. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. so perfect. I’ve wanted to touch you for so long, to feel you beneath me, fuck, hear the pretty little sounds you make for me.” He was rambling now, lost in the act of worshiping your body, his hands and lips traveling gently over your skin.
IM SO NORMAL THIS IS SO VIVID SO CLEAR SO CRISP SO SOFT AND IM SO NORMAL ABOUT IT. GEORGIE GIVING TUMMY KISSES IS INSANE WORK IMMA NEED IT EVERY DAY FOREVER WHAT IF I CRY
“So fucking good,” he mumbled against you, the vibrations of his low voice making your sensitive clit tingle. You tugged on his hair, encouraging him to pay attention to where you needed him most. “I know, I know.” He pressed a kiss to your clit, teasing you for just a moment longer before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking hard.
SLAPPING MY HAND IN MY FUCKING FACE SO HARD TALKING YOU THROUGH IT IS INSANE WORK I WOULD SIMPLY DISINTEGRATE ITS FINE I AM A NORMAL WELL ADJUSTED MEMBER OF SOCIETY I HOPE YOU KNOW EACH LINE IM QUOTING ESPECIALLY THE SMUT HITTTSSS IT HITSZSSSSSSSSSS FUCKKKK
You smirked, bracing your hands against the back of the couch to pick up the pace, your thighs and abs burning from the exertion. But he felt so fucking good, stretching you open, the root of his cock dragging along your clit.
rAW???? I MEAN I SAID RAW BUT SHE STILL HAS ME GAGGGEDDD
I DONT EVEN HAVE A MEME GOOD ENOUGH FOR THIS. THIS MEME IS SUCH LIGHT WORK SO L COMPARED TO WHAT I FEEL.
“So, can I call you my girl without being corrected now?” He teased, tickling your ribs.
You can literally call me tuna salad fool whatchu meannnnn what r u onnnnnn rn
The following morning, you descended from your room to find George at the bottom of the stairs, shirtless, twirling his Beater Bat in his right hand. The same hand that brought you the most earth shattering orgasm of your life.
FERAL SHE US CRAZZYYYY FREAKKY DOWN BAD AND SO IS HEEEEE SHE IS ME AND I NEED TO GET A LOBOTOMY
“What on earth are you doing?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his middle and kissing his cheek, admiring the violet mark you left above his clavicle.
HICKEY❓❓❓❓ ABSOLUTEL MENACE ABSOLUTE INSANE WORK WHAT THE FUCK I NEED A WRENCH
“I just want to talk,” George said, gently moving you aside before prowling up the stairs towards his younger brother.
I'm sobbing im so in love with him (he is a bunch of lines)
“I'll let ‘im get a good whack in,” Molly said, smiling at you. “Since you're his girl and all.”
GAGGED. MS MAAM I- MRS WEASLEY MAN I....
BESTIE LET ME MAKE ONE (1) ☝️ THING STRAIGHT IF IT ISNT ABSOLUTELY CRYSTAL CLEAR. I ABSOLUTELY LOVEEED THIS. I know I went off on YN and read her to filth but again let me be clear I don't hate her. I've read some yn's that are like 😬 oof you know like that is not me that's is Y/N no ma'am I am not substituting my name there. This is not that at alllllll. I'm just a hater MSJSJSJS now that I have the space to be one on the reblog HAHAHAH BUT AGAIN I DID NOT HATE HEE AT ALL. I DONT HATE HER except I do cos 🤽♀️ THAT 🤽♀️SHOULD🤽♀️BE🤽♀️ME🤽♀️
I actually loveeeeeee the way you unfolded everything. It was really beautiful and it made me miss reading so much cos I have spent an awful lot of time writing. Ughhh it's so good I cannot express it enough. Literally changed my brain I am so happy to find such an amazing George fic because I keep seeing more of Fred when I look up fics for the twins.
Ugh I can't stop speaking praises. 1000000000/10 I would give you my kidney if you asked
A Weekend at the Weasley's
| George Weasley x ravenclaw!reader
summary: you and george become best friends after a poorly timed prank. george has been pestering you for weeks to stay with him at the Burrow for a weekend over the holidays, and you finally cave.
cw: smut (MDNI 18+), dead parents, pining, Percy being a weirdo, quidditch injury and bruising, george still has two ears and a twin, lots of dirty talk and petnames, equal parts fluff and smut
an: george and reader are over eighteen in this fic. timeline is def wrong. but who caaaaaaares bc it's not me!
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
“C’mon, feathers,” George begged, shifting from his place on the couch to kneeling on the floor in front of you. “I promise you’ll enjoy yourself.”
“George, I don’t—”
“Would I ever put you in harm’s way?”
You scoffed. “Well, there was the time you lit my potions homework on fire, and the time you transfigured my chocolate frog into an actual frog. Or the time you and Fred—”
“Besides that!” He huffed, resting his chin on your knees, blinking up at you with round eyes. “Pleeeeaaasssseee, y/n? Come to the Burrow with me.”
You sighed, ignoring the way the Gryffindor common room fireplace made his brown eyes almost golden, freshly brewed espresso with nutty foam. You couldn’t deny George was handsome, most girls at Hogwarts fawned over him or his twin, or both. But George was your friend, as you often repeated to yourself in moments like these, when that mischievous smirk softened to a smile just for you.
“Bloody hell. Fine!” You shoved him off of you to escape his puppy-eyed trap.
“Yes!” He whooped, jumping to his feet. “It’s about time my mum meets my best girl—shit!”
You chucked your Potions books at his head. “Not your girl,” you huffed.
“Says you,” he teased, returning the book to you before flopping back down on the red couch, legs draped across your lap.
“Read the damn pages, Weasley.”
You tried to reimmerse yourself in your studies, but can’t seem to fall back into the reading, losing track of each sentence before it’s finished. George had been pestering you for weeks to spend a portion of the upcoming holiday break with him at the Weasley household, and up until now, you’d successfully resisted. But then he found out your grandparents were going on a trip to Spain for two weeks and became unbearable.
When George set his mind to something, he was stubborn as an ox.
And, despite yourself, you wanted to spend a few more days with him. You loved the Weasley siblings you’d met at school, and heard countless tales of Molly Weasley’s unbelievable Sunday roasts. It couldn’t be that bad, could it?
You were reserved by a nature, a studious and creative Ravenclaw from a muggle household. All things that stood at odds with one, ginger-haired George Weasley. But when a prank in fourth year set for Professor Snape backfired on you, his top student, and ruined your robes, the twins felt so awful they’d taken you to the Three Broomsticks for what George dubbed a “Butterbeer of Forgiveness”.
An unexpected friendship bloomed, and you’d been close with the twin’s ever since, George in particular. You loved Fred, and had countless memories with him, but you and George connected on a deeper level. From the moment you’d met, it was as if you’d always known one another. You could read him almost as well as Fred could, and George could read you better than anyone.
It was unnerving, exhilirating, and by far the most important relationship in your young life. Which is why you squashed any wandering thought about his freckles, his jawline, the way his forearms flexed while he read, or the way his chest heaved after a Quidditch match, his hands spidered with veins after hours of gripping the Beater’s Bat.
And when he called you things like his ‘best girl’, it turned your knees to jelly, your mind inside out. There was no way you’d finish your work now.
“I’m going back to the Tower. I have no idea how you Gryffindor’s get any work done with all this gold.” You stuffed your books into you back and stood, adjusting your robes.
“I’ll walk you,” George said, tossing his book aside. It looked like he hadn’t made any progress either.
“No, no. Finish your work. I’ll meet you in the Great Hall for breakfast, bags packed.”
“It’s a date!” He called as you walk away, and you can practically hear the grin on his face.
“Not a date!” You tossed over your shoulder as you stepped through the portrait.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
“My darlings!” Molly cooed, collecting her youngest two children into a massive hug at the train station terminal. You hid behind George, hoping somehow that she’d overlook your presence entirely. But of course, George wasn’t having it.
“Mum, this is y/n!” He grabbed you by the shoulders and thrust you out in front.
“George,” you hissed, but Molly was already upon you.
“Oh, y/n! I’ve heard so much about you! It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you. We were absolutely delighted when George’s letter arrived telling us you’d be accompanying him,” she chirped, fussing with your h/c hair and blue and bronze scarf.
“It’s lovely to meet you too, Mrs. Weasley,” you said, smiling at her and her quieter husband, who was busy chatting with Harry and Ron.
George slung an arm over your shoulder, wafting his cinnamon-y cologne over you. “Shall we?”
You scowled up at him as he dragged you along behind his family, oblivious to your hesitation, or willfully ignoring it.
The crowded car ride home was chaotic, with everyone speaking loudly over one another, George and Fred the loudest of all in either ear, and by the time you arrived, you heart was thrumming loudly in your head, your chest tight with anxiety.
All you could think about was throwing yourself out of the car door and running back to Hogwarts on foot.
Everyone poured out of the car, bounding across the lawn and up to the slightly crooked, red-roofed home, smoke buffeting cheerfully from the many chimneys.
“Y/n?” George said, pausing when he realized you weren’t in step beside him. Something in your expression gave you away, and his smile fell. “Hey, what is it?” he asked, jogging back towards you and placing his hands on your arms.
“I, it’s…” words failed you as emotion pinched your throat.
“Too much?” he asked, giving you a sympathetic smile.
You nodded, shame scorching your cheeks as you looked down at your feet. The tips of his boots were touching yours, so much larger, a worn brown leather juxtaposing your shining black.
“It’s going to be alright, love,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down your arms to warm you up. “It means a lot to me that you’re here, even if it’s a bit overwhelming. But, hey—” he tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at his handsome, wind-bitten face. “They love you already.”
“You told them about me?” You asked, your nerves alchemizing from wasps to butterflies.
“Of course I did.” He chuckled like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “They’re probably sick to death of hearing about you, honestly.”
“Like how I’ve been tutoring you in Potions for two years?” you taunted.
“I’m sure they assumed after I told them your were the brightest witch in our year.” His eyes twinkled with mischief, ginger hair falling across his brow, and your heart gave a new sort of thump. One that made you a bit queasy with it’s intensity.
“I don’t know about brightest,” you argued as he tucked you under his arm once again, leading you toward the open front door.
“I do,” he murmured, ushering you inside and into his mother’s waiting embrace.
“C’mere, sweetheart. Help me with these rolls.” She tugged you down the hall, leaving George to be ambushed by his brothers.
“Who’s the eagle?” You heard what you assumed it be the eldest ask before you were whisked into the hearth-like kitchen.
Twenty minutes later and you were back at George’s side, sandwiched between him and Ginny at the dinner table, while everyone fought for a foothold in the conversation.
George’s thigh was warm against your own, familiar and grounding, and you resisted the urge to lean into him fully for shelter. Dutifully, he started filling both of your plates as dishes went by, allowing you to sit and take it all in. He snagged the bowl of garlic potatoes from Ron and added a giant scoop to your plate, knowing they were your favorite.
“Thank you,” you mumbled to him, and he gave your shoulder a light bump in response.
“So, y/n. George mentioned you’re a Potions whiz?” Arthur asked through a mouthful of roll.
Heat crept up your neck as everyone’s attention swiveled to you. “It’s my favorite subject, yes sir,” you answered sheepishly.
“She passed her Potions O.W.L. in fourth year,” George said proudly, beaming down at you. “She’s onto custom lesson plans with Snivelus now.”
“George!” Molly corrected, but he only laughed.
“That’s impressive,” Percy said, nodding at you from across the table. “Brilliant and beautiful.”
“I, uh, thanks,” you stutter, stuffing a forkful of potatoes into your mouth.
George stiffened, but his smile never wavered. “That she is.”
“So, what do your parents do? Were they in Ravenclaw as well?” Arthur asked.
The blood drained from your face. You had so hoped this wouldn’t come up.
George’s hand fell onto your leg, his long fingers looping around your pinky and twining your hand with his. “She lives with her grandparents. Muggles,” George said, the finality in his tone ensuring there would be no further questions.
Arthur stuttered an apology, and the rest of the table looked away nervously. But Molly smiled proudly at her son, a slightly flush to her round cheeks.
Again, your heart gave that brutal pang, and your hand squeezed his a little more tightly.
The meal continued on, and you blessedly fell into the background while the other’s talked about their work and the school year. Or, you at least thought you fell into the background, but every time you glanced up, you found Percy’s gaze lingering on you, hawkish.
You had met the third eldest brother on many occasions, as he often escorted you from the Gryffindor common room to the Tower when curfew struck. But he’d never looked at you like that. And frankly, it made your skin crawl.
You weren’t naive. You knew you were beautiful, intelligent, witty, all of the things that drew a wandering eye. But Percy was far from someone you’d be interested in. And you were here with George, after all, even if it was for purely platonic reasons.
You shifted a little when Percy’s gaze lingered a fraction too long, and accidentally alerted George to your discomfort. He leaned down towards you, his height ensuring your head barely reached his shoulder.
“Okay, feathers?” He murmured, but caught Percy flinching his gaze away at the same moment. “Percy bothering you?” he whispered, and you shook your head no. An obvious lie by the way you shifted marginally closer to George when Percy’s gaze returned. “I’ll handle it.” George straightened, slipping back into his ongoing conversation with Fred and Charlie, but you felt his hand skim past your leg, brushing against your calf as he reached for his wand.
The contact sent a tremor through your muscles, your nerves stretching towards every point of contact with him until it was all you could think about.
“George, what are you—”
He coughed something that sounded an awful lot like ‘incendio’ into his elbow, wand hand flicking under the table at the same moment. Percy leapt up, the crotch of his trousers igniting with flame.
Everyone but you and the twins scrambled up, Molly quickly tossing the cauldron of water at Percy’s pants.
“Could’ve been a little more subtle,” Fred chastised George with a smirk.
“I wasn’t going for subtlety,” George replied. “I was going for ‘burning his bollocks off’.”
You hide your snicker behind your hand, the last of your anxiety unraveling. George was with you, you were safe.
Once the fire was out, dinner was disbanded with the twins being sentenced to dishes duty, since it had to be one of them that set their brother’s trousers on fire. You were whisked off on a house tour by Ginny, who eagerly showed you the in’s and out’s of the Burrow until you were dragging your feet, eyes heavy with exhaustion. But you had to admit that you were feeling more at ease, the Burrow and it’s residents wrapping around you like a favorite blanket.
You collapsed into bed just after midnight, a flickering glow in your chest, and a red-haired trickster in your thoughts.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Two more days passed at the Weasley residence, filled with games, oversized meals, books, and antics. There was never a dull moment with the twins and Charlie around.
But the best part, by far, was watching George’s mischevious walls come down, and seeing the softer, more relaxed version of him step forth. He was a devoted brother and son, often forgoing his own needs to help his mother reach something in the kitchen, or offer Ron a bit of girl advice. He spent many hours in deep conversation with is father and older brothers, speaking to a wide breadth of subjects you had no idea he had any knowledge about.
George, that bottomless bundle of fizzing energy, seemed even more lively around his favorite people, his heart on full display. And, if you were honest, it was doing funny things to your head and heart.
You found yourself searching for his eyes across the room, smiling at silly things he’d said hours prior, ghosting your fingers over the places he’d brushed against you while passing by. You’d even take a whiff of his coat when he’d come in after a walk with Charlie and tossed it onto the banister.
He seemed older somehow, more mature than you’d ever given him credit for, and it was undoing the years of resolve you’d cultivated to preserve your friendship.
It didn’t help that he constantly referred to you as ‘his girl’, and any number of tooth-aching pet names. Could he really mean it? You always assumed it was part of some joke you were the butt of, but now…
“George and y/n!” Molly called across the dinner table, breaking you from your thoughts. “Dishes, please!”
Your heart skipped a beat. You and George hadn’t had a moment alone since you’d arrived, and you were eager to soak up some undivided attention.
“Yes, ma’am,” George said cheerfully, rising to start collecting the plates. You hopped up to join him, and everyone else filtered out of the kitchen, arguing about what game to play that evening.
You scrapped while he scrubbed, and fell into easy conversation about the past few days.
“My mum really loves you, y’know,” he said, dunking a plate under the soapy water. “Dad too. He was raving about your thoughts on electric kettles yesterday.”
“I like them a lot too,” you replied, turning to hide your blush while tossing a half-eaten roll in the bin.
“Yeah?” he asked, glancing down at you. “I really hope you’re enjoying yourself. I know I sort of forced you to come, and then you were so anxious. And I know the house is loud and drafty, and the meals are a bit chaotic, and fucking Percy can’t keep his damn eyes to himself—”
Not knowing how else to soothe his worries, you stood on your toes and pressed a kiss into his cheek, derailing his rant into stunned silence.
“I’m really glad you brought me, Georgie,” you said, holding his wide-eyed expression for a moment before reaching for another dish.
He caught your wrist in his soapy hand, turning you back towards him. Your heart leapt into your throat at the intensity of his gaze, his jaw feathering with tension as his eyes searched your face. They were so dark, nearly black from his dilated pupils. His dry hand rose slowly, as if afraid you might startle. He dragged the back of his fingers along your cheek before sliding them into the hair at the nape of your neck.
“Tell me if I’ve misread this,” he murmured, tilting your head up towards him, his lips close enough that you could feel his warm breath across your skin. “Tell me to stop.”
Your heart galloped away, your mind turning to goo as the full scope of his longing came into focus. Heat unspooled through you at the way he angled your head to accommodate his towering frame, in complete control, but giving you every opportunity to stop him.
You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you gave a small shake of your head. No, please don’t stop.
His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his nose brushing against yours as he drew you closer. You pressed your body to his, desperate for his solidity, his warmth, as you trembled with anticipation. He guided your hand to rest around his neck, and you dug your fingers into his hair.
“George,” you breathed, his name a plea, a desperate prayer.
He closed the last millimeter of distance, caressing your lips with his, a delicate, wishful kiss. More cautious than you’d ever seen him. You tightened your grip on his hair, rising onto your toes to kiss him back a bit harder.
You felt the tension in his body unwind and his hand grasped your waist, his tongue sliding along your lower lip, teasing, promising, and your bones turned to mush, your lower belly fluttering with excitement.
“Ahem,” someone cleared their throat and you sprang away from George, grabbing a plate as if they hadn’t seen what you were doing. Bill leaned against the doorway, a knowing smirk on his face. “Father has requested that y/n joins him for a cuppa before the chess tourney begins. Something about doorbells?”
“Oh! Of course!” You replied, dropping the dish into the sink and drying your hands on the towel over the stove. “Thanks, Bill!” You hurry past the eldest Weasley son, cheeks absolutely flaming.
You could barely hold a conversation with Arthur, to fixated on the way your body hummed in the wake of his son’s touch. You were eager to finish what you’d started, but by the time you and Arthur emerged from his study, George was wrapped up in a game of Wizard’s Chess with Ron.
George’s eyes tracked you as you moved into the room, perching on an armchair by the fireplace. Bill shook his head, elbowing Charlie, who chuckled into his whiskey.
“Y/n, want to play against me?” Fred asked from his spot on the floor, crisscross in front of a chessboard on the coffee table.
“Sure,” you said, happy for the distraction.
“Losers rotate out until the winners from each table play one another,” Fred explained as you sat across from him. “Percy always wins, but he’s sulking in his room.” Fred winked, and you stuck your tongue out at him.
Quickly, you lose yourself in the game, and it doesn’t take long before you have Fred’s Queen cornered, a path to victory clear. In a final move, you take Fred’s Queen and win the game in ten minutes flat.
“Merlin, she kicked your ass!” Ron shouted, and the room bursts into laughter.
You flushed under the praise and start reorganizing the pieces. Despite yourself, your eyes flicked toward George, but found he was already looking at you, a warmth in his dark eyes that made your hands quit working, and you knocked over the piece you just arranged.
“My turn!” Ginny said, shoving Fred out of the way.
“Anyone need anything from the kitchen?” George asked, rising to his feet after swiftly defeating Harry.
A chorus of no’s rang out, but you’re already absorbed into the game, finding that Ginny was much better at chess than Fred. You started to make your third move, finding an opening, when you felt a calloused hand brush along the side of your neck, sliding beneath your hair to rest heavily against your skin.
“Need anything, love?” George whispered in your ear, and the blood rushed from your head, leaving you vaguely dizzy, eyes sparkling when you blinked up at him.
“N-no, I’m fine. Thank you,” you stuttered.
“A tea would be nice, darling brother!” Ginny said, jerking you back to the present, and the move you forgot entirely.
“Coming right up.” George’s hand squeezed your neck lightly before falling away, and he disappeared into the kitchen.
The rest of the night carried on like that, lingering glances and scalding touches, the heat between the two of you bordering on incendiary.
You were taking a small break from kicking Weasley ass when Percy emerged from his room, leveling a challenging glare at George. “I’ll take next round,” he said, fixing Charlie with a look.
“Fine.” George made his final move, knocking over Charlie’s queen. “Have a seat.”
Charlie vacated the spot, muttering something about ‘fucking dorks’, and Percy sat across from his younger brother. The energy shifted in the room, going from jovial and teasing to almost hostile. Weasley’s were competitive by nature, the twins in particular, but the tension heightened considerably beyond that as they sized each other up.
Piece by piece, they started moving around the board, an even match as far as you could tell. But based on the murmurings of the family, Percy was off his game a bit, and you had a feeling it had something to do with the way his eyes kept drifting back towards you.
Interesting, you thought, rising from your place on the couch to circle their table, feigning curiosity in the game. Percy visibly tensed, his eyes darting from you to the board and back again. George, however, relaxed, his typical cocky demeanor easing back into his body language.
Thanks to your distraction, Percy missed an easy move, giving George the first upper hand of the game. You leaned a bit into Percy’s space, and his hands began to tremble. When you walked away, he compensated for his hesitation with a rash move, exposing his Queen.
You knew George noted it but he opted for a subtler move, then leaned back in his chair to watch Percy squirm, a slight smirk on his face. When Percy realized what he’d done, he flushed with irritation, his shoulders squared and tight.
And for my final move…
You leaned down to George, nearly resting your chin on his shoulder. His spiced cologne greeted you, tinged with the cinnamon punch of the firewhiskey he’d been sipping on throughout the games. “I didn’t know you were so good at Wizard’s Chess,” you murmured, close enough that your lips grazed the shell of his ear.
His smirk grew as Percy fidgeted, unable to pick a move, struggling to not stare down your sweater. “I have many talents you’ve yet to experience,” he replied, voice low enough that only you could hear him. A thrill rushed through you, so you bowed out before you took things too far, leaving George to deal the killing blow.
Shortly after, you won your final match against Bill, who you suspected threw the game in your favor, and suddenly it was you sitting across from George, the whole family crowded around the table, watching with bated breath.
“Hello, darling,” George cooed, smiling.
“Weasley,” you clipped, all business.
His eyes flashed at the challenge, and he took a slow sip of whiskey. “Ladies first,” he said, setting the glass down.
You started him off easy, confident that you had this in the bag. George was smart, but most of his skill came from his ability to disarm, not his ability to play chess. You, as it so happened, were skilled at both.
It didn’t take long for George’s cocky smirk to fall, his brow to knit together with focus as you guided him slowly into a trap of your own design.
His brow suddenly quirked up, the corner of his mouth lifting, you knew you’d been caught.
“Clever girl,” he purred, moving his Rook and collapsing the trap you’d spent ten rounds constructing. “Almost had me,” he taunted, leaning back in his chair. His legs reached all the way across to yours in his languid position, his sock feet tapping absently against the legs of your chair.
You only hummed in response, crossing your legs. While searching the board, you stretched your stocking-covered foot towards him, sliding it along the inside of his calf. His muscles tensed for a moment, his eyes widening a fraction, before he settled down, watching you with heavy-lidded eyes.
You made your move, but didn’t stop dragging your foot up and along his knee, skimming his inner thigh. He sat up a little straighter, narrowing his eyes at the board, and you expected him to make his move, when you feel a hand clasp around your ankle, his touch a brand even through your thick stockings. His eyes lifted to yours, and the hunger in them stole your breath.
You’d never seen your sweet, good-natured friend look so menacing.
“I should know better than to play chess with a Ravenclaw,” he said, making a weak play with a pawn. “Starting to feel like I don’t stand a chance.”
His family laughed, reminding you that you were, in fact, completely surrounded by his parents and siblings, and you dropped your foot. That fucking trickster, he knew exactly how to get under your skin.
“I don’t know,” you said, stealing the pawn and trapping his King. “You’re doing better than I expected for a younger twin.”
A chorus off oooh’s met your dig, and George huffed a laugh before freeing his King. “You’ll regret that,” he warned with a devilish smile.
“And you’ll regret that.” George fell right into your trap. You skirted his King, stealing his Queen right out from under him. His jaw dropped, and the family erupted into cheers.
“We have a new champion!” Molly cheered, hauling you up to celebrate.
You grinned, allowing them to parade you around. George smiled up at you, a real, proud smile, and it made your stomach somersault. Then, the grandfather clock chimed midnight, rattling the house on it’s structure.
“Alright, enough excitement! Everyone off to bed!” Molly ordered. George’s eyes locked on you, gauging what you would do next. For the first time, you cursed sharing a room with Ginny, and cursed Fred for being born.
As everyone grabbed their things and scattered off to bed, George managed to catch you at the second stair landing before Ginny’s room, startling you.
“Well played, feathers,” he said, brushing his fingertips over your forearm as he looks up at you.
“You were a formiddable opponent.” You shivered under his touch, the heat from earlier instantly flaring back to life.
He stepped up a stair, bringing himself a head taller than you, close enough that you could smell the fire whiskey on his lips.
Could I taste it too?
“Goodnight, love.” He pressed a quick kiss to your temple before breezing past you and bounding up the next set of steps to his shared room with Fred.
You leaned against the wall to catch your breath, heart pounding in your chest. This was not the turn you expected this trip to take, but you couldn’t pretend that a part of you hadn’t wished for it. That it wasn’t why you tried so hard to avoid the trip all together.
But now that you and George had crossed that line, you couldn’t imagine what you’d been so afraid of. You only wished you’d done it sooner.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
The following morning, you’re one of the last to drift down to the kitchen, having spent most of the night tossing and turning, too worked up to sleep properly. You rounded the corner and come to a stop, surprised to find George alone in the kitchen.
“Morning,” he said with a lazy smile.
“Good morning.” You padded towards him, accepting the coffee cup from his outstretched hand. “How’d you sleep?” you asked, blowing gently on the steaming brew.
“Didn’t,” he said, shifting closer to you. His hair was still a little messy from sleep, or lackthereof, his expression soft and voice gravelly.
“Why not?” You asked, taking a tentative sip before setting the mug down on the counter.
“Couldn’t stop thinking...” He dipped his head towards you, his nose brushing your temple.
“About?” The word came out breathless, the coil of want you'd been battling all night tightening with a vengeance.
“What it would feel like to kiss you again,” he murmured, kicking your heart into overdrive.
“And why don’t you?” Your hand creeped along his t-shirt, feeling the muscles along his abdomen sculpted by years of Quiddtich.
“Gotta set up the pitch. We’re playing this afternoon.” His demeanor shifted, all playful and energetic innocence. “See you out there!” He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, then hurried outside, leaving you wet and bewildered in the overheated kitchen.
An hour later, you were perched precariously on an old broom, knuckles white from gripping it so hard. Ginny rocketed past you with ease, nearly throwing you off balance.
“I think you need a new nickname,” George teased, steadying you. “Feathers may not be apt.”
You risked removing one hand to show him what a real bird looks like, and he barked a laugh before banking away from you.
Soon, the game was in full swing, with you, Ron, Fred, and Charlie against George, Ginny, Harry, and Bill. You had only ever ridden a broom in first year, so you were massively out of your depth.
You were given the role of Seeker, opposite Harry, and had no hope of accomplishing a damn thing. Harry was like lightning on his Firebolt, and you bobbed around like a lame pigeon.
Thankfully, none of them seemed to be taking the game very seriously. You were content to float around the property, occasionally remembering that you we're supposed to be looking for something small and golden.
After awhile the boys started to get rowdier, pushing and shoving and bludgeoning.. You tried to steer clear, watching George whack the hell out of any bludger that dare cross his airspace. You would not want to be on the other end of one of those.
“Y/n, watch out!” Ginny cried.
You looked back from where you were staring off into space, just in time to see George barreling towards you, a bludger about five feet in front of him.
You tried to move, to steer the broom literally anywhere, but it wouldn't cooperate. At the last second you managed to pull up, but not far enough. The bludger hit you square in the stomach, knocking the wind from your lungs and nearly forcing up your breakfast with the power of it. Stars danced behind your eyes, your grip began to slip from the handle as darkness raced towards you.
Something else slammed into you, wrapping itself around you—
“Y/n? Baby, are you alright?” George. You could tell you were moving, but couldn't seem to make your eyes focus, keep your body from trembling. Your cheeks were wet, the breeze frigid against your damp skin. Am I crying?
Then you were on the ground, blessed ground, and then you were up again, cradled against George's chest.
He was shouting at someone you couldn't see. “I swear on fucking Dumbledore, I'm going to beat you bloody with that fucking bat—”
“George!”
“Get her some ice,” he barked at someone else. “I'm right here, love, you're okay. Just try and breathe.”
You clung to his dampening shirt, the shock and pain keeping you teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. You could hear other people talking, but your whole world narrowed to two points: George's heartbeat and the blinding pain radiating from your stomach.
“It hurts,” you whimpered, barely recognizing the pitiful sound of your own voice.
“I know, love. I know. I’ve got you, I promise.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, soft and trembling. A moment later, he laid you on the couch, careful not to jostle you more than necessary.
Molly passed something into George's hands. “For the pain,” she whispered.
George crouched down next to you, holding the edge of the cup to your lips. “Take a sip, sweetheart.” You shook your head, your Potions safety training overpowering your reason. “Please, y/n. Let me take the pain away.”
You took a small sip, the tea pungent and floral, but immediately the edges of the pain began to soften. But the relief was short-lived. Exhaustion followed close behind it, dragging you down into a dreamless sleep.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
When you come to, the Weasley house was dark around you. The only light came from the moon spilling through window panes and the smoldering fire across from the couch.
A light snore drew your attention, and you looked up to see George above you, his head lolled onto the back of the couch, sleeping soundly. Your head was resting in his lap, his sweater piled under your head as pillow, and his large hand was stretched across your stomach, fingers splayed from your ribs to your hip bones.
God, your stomach. You moved to sit up, memories of earlier filtering through the fading grogginess of the Potion Molly gave you, but surprisingly, your stomach was only a little sore. More like an overexerted muscle than rearranged organs and cracked ribs.
George stirred, lifting his head to peer at your through half-closed lids.
“What are you doing down here?” you asked, sweeping a strand of red hair from his brow.
He came fully awake then, straightening. “How do you feel?” He asked, caressing your cheek, then running his hands over your arms, your ribs, the swell of your hips.
“The Potion did its job, I feel mostly fine,” you said, catching his hands to stop their exploration, and the buzzy desire they coaxed to life.
“Are you sure?” His features softened with relief, his fingers twining with yours.
“I'm sure. Thank you for saving me.” You leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, ignoring the slight protest in your abdomen muscles.
“Always,” George said, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “I'm sorry I wasn't close enough to stop it from hitting you in the first place. It happened so fast—”
“Love, it wasn't your fault,” you shushed, reaching out to cup his face and stroking your thumb along his cheekbone.
“I just…” he trailed off, leaning into your palm. “I always want to be there to protect you. Or for whatever you else you might need. Do you need anything now? Water, tea? Are you hungry? You missed dinner—”
“George,” you cut him off. “Right now, I need you.”
Desire eclipsed the worry on his face, his eyes shading. “Are you sure you're not in pain? No fogginess or headaches—”
You leaned in and kissed him, a light, floaty peck, silencing his incessant questioning. You appreciated his concern, but there were other parts of you that needed his attention far more. He immediately took charge of the kiss, shifting his weight to lay you back onto the couch. His body rested heavily between your thighs, his mouth devouring yours in fervent, searing kisses.
His tongue lapped at your bottom lip and you opened for him, allowing him to take everything he sought. He kissed you like he didn't know if he'd get another chance, like he'd been waiting his entire life for this moment. It stole your breath, made your toes curl and your pussy pulse with excitement, slick already collecting between your thighs.
You nipped at his lower lip, earning a soft grunt in appreciation. His hips canted forward a fraction, though it seemed he was holding himself back. His lips traveled along your jaw, down the valley of your throat with teasing licks and love bites and you arched into him, a moan spilling from your lips before you could stop it.
“Shh, baby. You have to be quiet f’me.” George nudged your shirt up with his fingers, kissing along the purplish bruises marring your stomach. “My poor girl.” His thumbs traced the curves of your stomach softly, almost reverent as he gazed up at you. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. so perfect. I’ve wanted to touch you for so long, to feel you beneath me, fuck, hear the pretty little sounds you make for me.” He was rambling now, lost in the act of worshiping your body, his hands and lips traveling gently over your skin.
“How long?” you asked, breathless, raking your fingers through his hair while he nursed a mark just under your right tit.
He looked up at you through is lashes, his lips leaving your skin with a pop. “Since that night at the Three Broomsticks,” he said, shifting upwards so he could look you in the eye.
“The ‘Butterbeer of Forgiveness’?” You mouth fell open, shock rocking through you.
He snickered. “Of course, why do you think I kept sending Fred to the bar?”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” You ran your fingers over his jaw, feeling the rough stubble against your skin.
“I—” his voice caught, his gaze averting from you. “I loved you too much to risk losing you.”
Elation soared through you, and you couldn’t stop the smile that split your face. “George,” you said, bumping your nose against his. His eyes flicked back to you, watery and rimmed with red. “I love you too.”
His smile was like the first sun after an endless winter, and he kissed you like the first torrential rain of spring. The heat of summer came quickly though, and soon you were gasping for him again, your hips pressing against the hard ridge in his pants.
“Need you,” you whined into his mouth.
“I’m here, love.” He kissed down your throat again, pausing for only a moment to nip at your taught nipples through your shirt before continuing his downward decent. “Lift up for me.” You lifted your hips, allowing him to tug down your jeans, exposing your sodden red panties to his greedy eyes. “Gryffindor red, huh?” he teased, and you threw your arms over your face to hide your blush. “All for me?”
You nodded, your heart in your throat.
“It’s a shame I’ll have to ruin them.’
“What—” Riiiip! The cold air lapped against your slick pussy, chased by the heat of George’s tongue as he dragged it through your folds. “Oh, fuck—”
“Shhh,” he warned, before flicking his tongue against your swollen clit.
You bit down on the back of your wrist to keep from crying out when he switched from licking to sucking, the walls of your cunt fluttering around nothing. He moved down, flattening his tongue against your entrance and collecting the wetness that pooled there. He gave a light hum of pleasure that had your eyes crossing, his tongue delving deeper in search of another taste.
“So fucking good,” he mumbled against you, the vibrations of his low voice making your sensitive clit tingle. You tugged on his hair, encouraging him to pay attention to where you needed him most. “I know, I know.” He pressed a kiss to your clit, teasing you for just a moment longer before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking hard.
You very nearly cried out, having to clap a hand over your mouth to stifle the sound. Pleasure shot through you, singeing your nerves and liquifying your muscles. So quickly you were unraveling for him, going stupid under his ministrations.
A long digit prodded at your entrance, collecting some wetness before easing inside of you. Your cunt welcomed him gladly, clamping down around his finger.
“Merlin, baby. You're so tight,” he panted, shifting to watch you take another one of his fingers, slick already running into his palm. “Relax, love. Shh, “ he soothed, curling his fingers to pet the inside of your walls, making your mind go blank as bliss washed through you. “That's it, darling. Just like that.”
The knot in your stomach began to wind tighter, burning through you as you fought to relax, to be good for him. But your orgasm was so fucking close, just a little more—
His lips found your clit again, sucking in time with your racing heart as his fingers coaxed you open, and the knot severed. Your peak slammed into you, stealing your breath so you couldn't even cry out to warn him, to sing his praises the way he deserved. Your muscles locked, your cunt bearing down as him as pleasure tore through you until you could do nothing but shiver beneath him.
“Shit, y/n. That was fucking beautiful,” he cooed, easing his fingers out of you and lapping up the release coating him to the wrist. “You alright?” He shifted upwards, kissing your bruised abdomen before pecking your lips, your eyes still glassy and unfocused.
“I've never come that hard,” you pant, throwing your arms around his neck and raining kisses over his slick-soaked face. “What the fuck.”
He chuckled, flushing under your attention. “Happy to oblige.”
You caught the last word in your mouth, kissing him deeply, desperately. Your body was already keying itself up again, and by the twitching length against your hip, he was desperate for you too.
He hooked an arm under your back and hauled you up to straddle his lap, his back pressed against the couch. “This okay?” He asked, sliding his rough hands under your shirt to skate along your skin.
You nodded, rolling your hips to drag your bare pussy along the bulge in his jeans, a skitter of pleasure making your breath hitch.
“Fuck, y/n,” he hissed, hips bucking up against you.
“Yes, please fuck me.” You kissed along his jaw and nibbled at his ear lobe, reaching between your bodies to find his zipper.
He did the same, helping you undo the button and tug down the zipper, his cock springing free from his boxers. The head nudged against your clit, hard and heated, and you whimpered.
With an arm wrapped around your waist, he lifted you slightly, guiding the head to your dripping entrance. Slowly, he eased you down into him, your pussy more than ready to accommodate his length. A rough groan resounded from his chest, and you silenced it with another kiss. His cock stretched you open, hitting that spongy, sinful spot before sliding deeper until he bottomed out, the head nudging your cervix.
“So fucking tight, baby. Bloody hell,” he whispered, voice strained.
“Feels so fucking good,” you whine, grinding your hips against his.
George buried his face into your neck, stifling a moan. His grip loosened, allowing you to start lifting and lowering yourself, riding him slowly, savoring every inch of his cock as it dragged through you.
“M’not gonna last long if you keep doing that,” he warned, mouthing at your neck with sloppy kisses.
You smirked, bracing your hands against the back of the couch to pick up the pace, your thighs and abs burning from the exertion. But he felt so fucking good, stretching you open, the root of his cock dragging along your clit.
His lifted up again only to snap his hips against yours, his hands a vice on your waist as he started pounding into you from below.
“Oh, fuck, Georgie—”
“Quiet, love. You don't want the whole house to hear how good I make you feel, do you?”
You nodded, a whine escaping through your teeth. One of his hands came up to cover your mouth, silencing the sound and infringing on your air supply, callouses rubbing against your kiss-swollen skin.
“I’d love nothing more than for Percy to hear you screaming for me, but this is just for us,” he whispered, breathless as he fucked into you. “Gonna come for me again?”
Your fingers dug into the couch, another peak racing towards you. You bounced with his movements, desperately chasing your high, the ache in your abdomen long forgotten.
“That's it, love. Fuck, m’gonna come.” He threw his head back, a strangled groan accompanying the kick of his cock inside you, stretching your further before pumping you full of his release.
The hot surge of his orgasm sent you flying over the edge, ecstasy pulling your under while your cunt milked him dry with vicious pulls. You muffled your cry into his shoulder as he fucked you through it, until you both collapsed onto the couch, thoroughly spent and panting.
His lips found your forehead, your temple, his hands gliding along your spine, over your hips, soothing you as you trembled against him.
“I love you,” he breathed into your hair. “I can't believe you're here with me.”
You grazed the racing pulse under his jaw with your nose. “I love you, too.” It was exhilarating to say, almost as thrilling as the orgasm you just shared, a massive weight was lifted off your shoulders.
“So, can I call you my girl without being corrected now?” He teased, tickling your ribs.
“I suppose.” You giggled, pecking the corner of his smirk.
The following morning, you descended from your room to find George at the bottom of the stairs, shirtless, twirling his Beater Bat in his right hand. The same hand that brought you the most earth shattering orgasm of your life.
“What on earth are you doing?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his middle and kissing his cheek, admiring the violet mark you left above his clavicle.
“Waiting for Ron,” Fred supplied from the kitchen.
“Who’s waiting for me—oh fuck.” Ron stopped dead at the top of the stairs, still dressed in his pajamas, staring wide eyed at George, or more specifically, the bat in his hand.
“I just want to talk,” George said, gently moving you aside before prowling up the stairs towards his younger brother.
Ron took off up the stairs, their steps thundering through the house as George gave chase.
“George! Shit,” you huffed, glancing at the rest of the family who'd come to see what the fuss was about.
“I'll let ‘im get a good whack in,” Molly said, smiling at you. “Since you're his girl and all.”
Your cheeks flamed, but they only met you with warm hugs and laughter, like they'd been expecting this from the beginning.
Crack!
“Ow!”
"That's for hurting my girl, you git."
Fin. 🐦⬛
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
Thank you so much for reading!
If you enjoyed, you can check out my published work here.
Much love,
Allie
#LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE#EXPLODING SO MUCH WITH LOVE#george weasley x reader#george weasley smut#george weasley fanfiction
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how to lose a girl in 10 days | ch.3 second move
ryomen sukuna x fem!reader
ʚɞ ryomen sukuna is tall, devastatingly handsome, and the campus heartbreaker. everyone knows his name, and his reputation for leaving girls with broken hearts. but then there's you uninterested and completely unimpressed by him. you're the only girl who couldn't care less about him. when his friends tease him about it, everything changes. they challenge him with a bet to make you, the one person who isn't affected by his charm, fall in love with him in just 10 days, sukuna accepts the challenge, thinking it'll be an easy win. it's just a game, a way to prove he can get any girl he wants. but the more time he spends with you, he finds himself wanting something he never expected.
ʚɞ warning/tags: angst, fluff, romance, use of cigarettes and alcohol, jealousy, asshole sukuna, heartbreak, inspired by how to lose a guy in 10 days, college au, enemies to lovers.
ʚɞ now playing - no. 1 party anthem by arctic monkeys
masterlist
note: new chapter! this one took awhile to write but i hope u love!! happy new year <3
The ring of the doorbell jolted you awake, pulling an annoyed groan from your lips. You turned over in your bed, calling out, “Shoko, can you get the door?” Your voice was muffled against your pillow, and you waited, hoping for the sound of her footsteps.
Nothing. No response.
The doorbell rang again, this time louder. You let out a frustrated sigh, throwing off the blankets as you dragged yourself out of bed. “Seriously, Shoko?” you muttered under your breath, shuffling to your bedroom door. You made your way to the front door, each step heavy with sleep-induced annoyance.
When you opened the door, the sight before you gave you pause. No one was there.
Your gaze dropped to the ground.
A massive bouquet of roses sat on your doorstep. You blinked, momentarily stunned.
“What the…?” you murmured, crouching to pick up the bouquet. It was heavier than you expected, the delicate scent of roses filling the air.
Closing the door behind you, you carried the flowers into the living room, setting them down on the table. Shoko, now leaning against the kitchen doorway with a steaming mug of coffee in hand, raised an eyebrow at the sight.
“What’s with the flowers?” she asked, taking a sip.
“I don’t know,” you admitted, still staring at the extravagant bouquet. “Maybe they’re for you?”
Shoko shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t think so. Check for a note.”
Spotting a small envelope tucked among the flowers, you pulled it out and opened it. Your stomach flipped when you read the words.
“thought these were almost as stunning as you let me know if they compare – sukuna”
You felt your heart skip a beat as you stared at the note. Sukuna? Your brow furrowed in confusion. Why would Ryomen Sukuna, of all people, send you flowers?
“Sukuna?” you repeated aloud, more to yourself than Shoko.
“How does he even know where we live?” you asked, a mix of confusion and suspicion in your voice.
“Oh… I may or may not have taken Geto home the other night. And he might have told Sukuna where we live.”
Your head snapped toward her, eyes wide. “What?! You hooked up with Geto? And you didn’t tell me this?”
Shoko shrugged nonchalantly, setting her mug down. “It didn’t seem relevant at the time. It was just a fling. No big deal.”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “No big deal? Shoko, this guy knows where we live! Do you know how creepy that is?”
“Relax,” Shoko said with a chuckle, clearly enjoying your distress. “It’s not like he’s lurking outside your window or something. He just… sent flowers.”
You groaned, sinking into the chair next to the table. “Great. Just what I needed. First he buys me snacks and now he’s sending me flowers? What’s his deal?”
“Maybe he likes you,” Shoko teased, her grin widening.
You shot her a glare. “That’s not funny.”
“No, but this whole situation is.” She chuckled, You had barely had time to response when your phone buzzed on the table, the screen lighting up with an incoming message from Ryomen Sukuna.
You hesitated for a moment, your fingers hovering over the screen. Was he really texting you already? What could he possibly want now?
You unlocked your phone, bracing yourself as you read his message.
12:20PM Sukuna Ryomen: so how’d you like the flowers?
You frowned. So he’s really going to go there? You glanced over at Shoko.
“Shoko… Sukuna just texted me.”
Shoko raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by your discomfort. “Well, well, look at that. He’s not wasting time.”
You glanced back at the message, unsure whether to ignore it or respond. You couldn’t help it, this was unexpected. After a few seconds, you typed out a reply.
12:20PM You: why did you send them? what do you want?
You hit send and sat back, unsure whether you’d made the right call. It felt a bit too direct, but you didn’t care.
Your phone buzzed again, and you jumped slightly, then glanced down at his response.
12:20PM Sukuna Ryomen: no need to overthink it i just thought you deserved something nice
“What does that even mean?” you muttered aloud.
You typed out another reply, trying to keep your cool.
12:21PM You: just a random act of kindness then? what’s the catch
You waited, feeling the tension rise as you glanced at Shoko, who was still watching with amusement.
The text pinged almost immediately.
12:21PM Sukuna Ryomen: no catch just thought you might like them unless you don’t then I’ll send you something better
You stared at the message, your stomach doing a strange little flip.
“Okay, now he’s just being cocky,” you said, shaking your head, showing shoko the text.
Shoko stares at your phone, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “That’s the fun part. He’s definitely interested.”
You let out a sigh, running a hand through your hair. Great. What was happening here? You barely knew Sukuna. Sure, everyone on campus knew who he was, the tall, cocky heartbreaker, but you’d never even had a proper conversation with him.
Now, suddenly, he was everywhere. Sending flowers, finding excuses to cross your path, and even inviting you to parties. It wasn’t normal.
Your chest tightened at the thought. Something is definitely going on… and you don’t like it.
What did Sukuna even want? Was this just another conquest for him? Another name to add to his list?
“Earth to you,” Shoko’s voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality.
“You’re overthinking again.”
“I’m not overthinking,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “I just don’t get it. Why me? He could have anyone on campus, and he usually does. So why is he suddenly obsessed with showing up in my life?”
Shoko shrugged, but her smirk didn’t waver. “Maybe he finally met someone he can’t figure out. Guys like Sukuna hate not being in control. You’re probably driving him insane.”
“Good,” you shot back quickly, but the unease in your chest didn’t go away. Sukuna wasn’t just annoying—he was persistent, calculating, and way too good at getting what he wanted. And right now, you were in his sights.
And that was a problem.
"Shoko, please, I don't wanna go," you begged, standing at the doorway of your room as she rummaged through your closet. The hangers clinked together as she shifted through your clothes, her focus unwavering.
"I swear, if you don't go to this party, I'll never let you live it down." Shoko's voice was light, teasing, but there was a persistence behind it that you knew well.
She wasn't going to give up until you were dressed and ready to walk out that door.
You flopped down onto your bed, burying your face in your hands. "I already went to one party yesterday, and nothing happened. What's the point of going again?"
Shoko pulled out a short black dress and held it up, eyeing it with approval. "Except this time, you've got Sukuna inviting you."
You threw your arms up in frustration. "Yeah, so what? It's not like he actually cares. He's probably just doing this to mess with me. I'm not his type, and I'm definitely not falling for whatever act he's putting on."
Shoko leaned against the wall, unbothered by your complaints. "I'm not saying you have to fall for him, but you're not going to get anywhere by avoiding him. He's clearly paying attention to you, and you're not going to know what he's really about unless you go and talk to him."
You sat up on your bed, staring at her in disbelief.
"Why does it matter? I don't want to deal with him. I don't want to go to another party just to have him act like he's the center of the universe."
Shoko grinned like she knew exactly how to push your buttons. "Because, whether you like it or not, you've got his attention. You're not going to find out anything if you keep running from him. Plus, if you don't go, he's just going to think you're scared."
You slumped back onto your bed, exhaling deeply. "I just don't want to make a fool of myself."
Shoko walked over and sat next to you, nudging your shoulder. "Look, I know he's a pain. But you're strong enough to handle him. If you don't go, you'll just be left wondering what could have happened, and that'll drive you crazy. You don't want to keep playing the ‘what if' game forever."
You stared at her, your frustration building. "So, you think if I go, he's just going to magically be less of a jerk? What if he's just messing with me like he does with everyone else?"
Shoko chuckled softly, standing up and holding up a dress. "I'm not saying he'll be perfect, but you'll never know unless you show up. And if he really is that bad, then you'll have the satisfaction of knowing you weren't the one falling for it."
You sighed, the thought of facing Sukuna again making your stomach turn. But part of you couldn't help wondering what his deal really was. "I just don't want to deal with him."
Shoko raised an eyebrow. "Then don't deal with him.
“Go, enjoy yourself, and don't let him have the power to bother you. He invited you for a reason, and if you don't show up, he'll just just bother you even more."
You hesitated, chewing on your lip. You didn't want to go, but the idea of leaving things unresolved with Sukuna was nagging at you. "Fine," you muttered, finally giving in. "But don't say I didn't warn you when I end up miserable the whole time."
Shoko grinned, practically bouncing with excitement.
"I knew you'd come around! Now, get ready. We're going to show him how hot you are!"
You stared at the dress in your hands, running your fingers over the sparkly fabric. It was shorter than anything you'd ever worn before, the tightness of the material hugging your curves in a way you weren't used to.
With a deep sigh, you headed to your bathroom to change. The tight fabric clung to your skin as you slipped it on, the black dress glimmering with every movement. You didn't feel like yourself in it, but there was no turning back now. The dress barely reached mid-thigh, the hemline sitting just above your knees.
It showcased your hip dips, and the sparkle caught the light, making you feel exposed.
You stared at your reflection, arms crossing over your chest as you tried to will the discomfort away. The dress was beautiful, but it felt like it was wearing you instead of the other way around. You pulled at the fabric slightly, wishing it were a little looser, but it was perfectly fitted-almost like it was designed to demand attention.
You turned back to the door, hearing Shoko's voice coming from the other side. "You almost done?
“Come on, hurry up!"
You sighed and opened the door, stepping out into your bedroom. Shoko immediately turned to face you, a pleased grin crossing her face as she took in your appearance. "See? you look fucking hot.”
You glared at her. "I hate how tight this thing is," you muttered, tugging at the edges. You still couldn't get over how exposed you felt.
Shoko tilted her head, her eyes scanning you up and down. "You look sexy. And don't even try to pretend like you don't know it. The dress is doing all the work for you."
You shot her a side-eye, clearly not convinced. “It's too... much."
"It's not "too much,” she said with a playful smirk, grabbing the black heels she'd given you. "It's exactly what you need. Go, have fun, and let Sukuna see that how hot you are. You're owning this look, whether you want to or not."
You hesitated, staring at your reflection one last time.
The dress did make you look... different. More confident. Maybe it was the sparkle that made you feel like you could shine, even if you didn't want to.
You slipped on the heels, feeling your posture shift as you stood taller. You looked at Shoko.
"You better not make me regret this.”
Shoko grinned, “I won't promise. Now, let me put on some makeup.”
The music was already thumping when you and Shoko walked into the house, the bass rattling the floor beneath your heels. The place was packed, people swaying to the beat or crowded into clusters, shouting over the noise. You tugged at the hem of your dress, still feeling self-conscious as you followed closely behind Shoko.
Shoko grabbed your wrist and pulling you off to the side, away from the thick of the crowd. "Listen," she said, her tone softer now. "If you're not feeling it, just let me know, and we'll leave. I'm not going to make you stay if it gets to be too much, okay?"
You hesitated, her seriousness catching you off guard.
"Okay," you muttered, glancing around the room. “But don't disappear on me."
Shoko grinned, patting your arm. "I won't. You've got this."
Before you could say anything else, a familiar voice cut through the noise, making your stomach drop.
"Well, well, you actually showed up."
You turned to see Sukuna. He looked really good, dressed in a fitted black shirt that showed off his toned arms and just enough of his tattoos to make him look effortlessly cool.
You immediately stiffened, your guard going up.
"Unfortunately," you muttered under your breath, but he heard it, the smirk on his face only growing wider.
"Don't sound too excited, sweetheart," he teased, his eyes briefly flicking to Shoko before returning to you.
He let his gaze sweep over you, slowly, his tongue running over his lips as he did. "I was starting to think you were avoiding me."
"Maybe I was," you shot back, folding your arms over your chest.
Sukuna chuckled, the sound low and infuriatingly self-assured. He took a step closer, his gaze dipping ever so slightly to take in the curve of your dress before flicking back up to your face. The way he looked at you, slow and deliberate, made your skin heat—though whether it was from irritation or something else, you weren’t sure.
“Can’t blame you,” he said. “But you’re here now, and that’s what matters, right?”
You narrowed your eyes, refusing to let him get under your skin. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not here for you.”
“Sure,” he drawled, leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world. “You just happened to show up to the party I invited you to, wearing that.”
Your jaw tightened, and you squared your shoulders. “What I wear has nothing to do with you.”
“Doesn’t it?” His voice dropped, the playful edge replaced with something darker, more intense. His eyes roamed over you again, lingering just long enough to make you want to punch him.
“Don’t test me, Sukuna,” you snapped, your voice sharp enough to make Shoko glance between the two of you with raised brows.
He grinned, utterly unbothered by your tone. If anything, he seemed more amused, like he enjoyed riling you up. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m just saying you look good.”
“Did I ask for your opinion?”
“No,” he said easily, his smirk widening. “But you’ve got it anyway.”
Shoko cleared her throat, her expression caught between amusement and concern. “Well, this is fun,” she said lightly. “But I’m going to grab a drink. You good?”
You gave her a tight nod, watching as she disappeared into the crowd. The second she was out of sight, Sukuna closed the gap between you, his presence immediately overwhelming
Sukuna glanced at Shoko walking away, then back to you, his gaze softening just a little, but the cocky smile never wavered. “She didn’t get you a drink?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.
“No,” you replied dryly.
Sukuna stepped closer, his closeness almost making you take a step back, though you tried to stand your ground. “I could get you something. Whatever you want.”
“I’m fine,” you repeated, your voice tight. “And I didn’t ask for anything from you.”
“Sure you didn’t.” He chuckled, and there was something almost teasing in the way his eyes lingered on you. “But that dress? You’re asking for something.”
You tensed, resisting the urge to snap back. “I came here to hang out with my friend, not to be ogled by you.”
He stepped back, feigning mock hurt. “I’m just admiring your taste in fashion. But I’m guessing you didn’t come here to be sober all night either.”
And he was right, you knew how annoyed you’d be with Sukuna, so you figured you’d need something to take the edge off.
You gave him an unamused look. “I’m not your project to fix.”
“Maybe not.” He shrugged. “But I’ll be around if you change your mind.”
You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, a girl approached from the crowd, her voice dripping with flirtation.
“Sukuna,” she said, her voice laced with sweetness as she placed a hand on his arm. “I missed you last night. You just left without saying goodbye.”
Her gaze shifted toward you, and her smile faltered for just a second, her eyes narrowing slightly as she sized you up. “Is this your girlfriend?”
Sukuna simply shrugged. “Nah,” he said dismissively, like it didn’t matter. “Not my girlfriend.
The girl didn’t seem to care, her smile staying in place as she leaned a little closer to him. “Well, maybe tonight, you’ll stick around longer,” she said, her voice sweet as she twirled a lock of her hair.
But Sukuna didn’t seem all that interested in her attention. With a casual flick of his wrist, he lightly pushed her off his arm, not even looking down at her. “You’re in my way,” he said, completely nonchalant.
The girl blinked in surprise but quickly recovered. She didn’t seem to know how to react, standing there for a moment before scoffing and walking away, muttering under her breath.
You couldn’t help but notice how effortless Sukuna had been in dismissing her. He didn’t even look bothered, and it almost seemed like the girl was just an annoyance to him.
Turning his attention back to you, his smirk was back, as if the whole encounter had been nothing more than a brief interruption. “Jealous?” he asked, his voice low and playful.
You arched an eyebrow, trying not to let your annoyance show. “Not even close,” you replied, crossing your arms.
He leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing just enough to show that he wasn’t buying it. “That’s a lie, sweetheart. You’re not fooling anyone.”
You stepped back, uncomfortable under his gaze, but refused to let him win this little game. “I’m not interested in whatever game you’re playing,” you said firmly, your voice steady.
Sukuna tilted his head, studying you for a moment. “I’m not playing a game,” he said softly, the words almost too quiet for the music around you to drown out.
The tension between you two was noticeable, thick enough to cut through the noise of the party around you. And for a moment, neither of you spoke, just standing there, locked in this strange, unspoken understanding.
Before you could respond, Shoko suddenly appeared next to you, a drink in her hand. “You okay?” she asked, looking between you and Sukuna.
You let out a breath, forcing yourself to relax. “Yeah, just fine,” you said quickly, turning your attention to your friend.
Sukuna didn’t seem bothered by the interruption. In fact, he just nodded, as if he was used to things playing out this way. “Don’t let her scare you off,” he said casually to Shoko, though his eyes were still on you.
Shoko shot him a playful look before leaning in closer to you. “I’m just here to make sure you’re not falling for his charm,” she whispered, making sure Sukuna could hear. “But you seem to be handling it just fine.”
You smiled at her, grateful for the brief distraction. Sukuna didn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes said everything. He wasn’t done with you yet. With a scoff, he turned and walked away.
“Here,” Shoko said, handing you the drink. “You probably needed this.”
“Thanks,” you muttered, still feeling a little intimidated from Sukuna’s attention.
Shoko noticed this. “What happened? Was he being a little too much?”
You sighed and leaned against the counter. “You could say that.”
“Is it really that bad?” she asked, leaning in to talk more quietly. “I don’t know. I think you’ve got him curious.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m interested,” you shot back quickly.
Shoko shrugged, not at all fazed by your response. “I know, I know. But still… he’s kind of hard to resist, right?” She gave you a sly smile. “Anyway, I wanted to tell you about Geto. He’s been texting me all day. I’m honestly not sure what I’m doing with him anymore, though.”
You raised an eyebrow. “I thought you two were just having fun?”
“Well, we are, but… you know how it is.” Shoko waved her hand in the air dismissively. “Sometimes he acts all detached, and then he’ll show up out of nowhere like everything’s normal. He’s confusing, honestly.”
You didn’t know how to respond. Shoko had always played it cool, but it was clear she was a little unsure of where things stood with Geto. You didn’t press the issue, though, since you knew she’d tell you when she was ready.
Before you could respond, Gojo’s voice cut through the noise of the party, casual and upbeat as usual.
“Well, look who it is. The mysterious Shoko!”
You turned just in time to see Gojo walking over, his sunglasses perched on top of his head and that ever-present grin plastered on his face. He had the kind of confidence that was almost irritating, but you couldn’t help but smile at him.
“Hey, Gojo,” Shoko said, barely looking up from her drink. “You know I don’t like being called mysterious.”
Gojo chuckled, leaning in a little too close as he looked at you. “Oh, and who’s this?” His eyes twinkled mischievously. “Shoko, you’ve been holding out on me?”
You raised an eyebrow. “Not at all,” you said, keeping your tone light but firm. “I just don’t usually run in the same circles.”
Gojo let out a loud laugh. “Fair enough. But, if you ever decide to upgrade your circle, you know who to talk to.” He flashed a wink, then finally noticed your drink. “I’ll get you something better,” he said, turning toward the bar.
“Don’t bother,” you replied dryly. “I’m fine.”
Gojo just gave you a nod, understanding, and turned toward the crowd, disappearing into the throng of partygoers.
“Sorry about him,” Shoko muttered.
“Don’t worry about it,” you said, shaking your head. “He’s harmless.”
Just then, Geto appeared, his presence a quiet different to Gojo’s loud antics. His gaze immediately found Shoko, and his expression softened, the tension you saw earlier melting away as he moved closer. Without saying a word, he slid an arm around her, pulling her in gently.
“Hi, babe,” Geto said quietly, his voice carrying just the right amount of affection.
“Hey,” Shoko responded, smiling up at him. “You surviving the chaos?”
“Barely,” Geto replied with a chuckle. “But it’s worth it now that you’re here.”
You couldn’t help but smile at the two of them. Even though you’d only just found out about their ‘relationship’, it was nice to see them together
“it’s good to see you,” Geto said, finally turning to face you fully. His smile was polite, but it didn’t reach his eyes the way it did when he looked at Shoko. “Shoko’s mentioned you a few times.”
You nodded, unsure how to respond. “She probably talks a lot about you, too,” you said, knowing it was a lie. Shoko had only mentioned him once.
Geto chuckled, though his expression was unreadable. “I’m sure she does. She’s not the type to hold back.”
Gojo cut in, grabbing a drink off a nearby table and offering it to you with a bright smile.
“Come on, take it,” he insisted. “I’m trying to make sure you’re having a good time.”
You glanced at Shoko, who gave you an almost unnoticeable nod, as if giving you permission to go along with it. After a brief moment of hesitation, you took the drink from Gojo.
“Thanks,” you said, your voice steady despite the slight tension in the air. Gojo grinned, completely unfazed by the moment.
“Anytime,” he said, his eyes glinting with playful mischief. “Just don’t let Shoko keep you all to herself, alright?”
You nodded at his words, glancing away as your eyes searched for Sukuna. It was strange that he wasn’t with his friends. As you scanned the room, you finally spotted him in the corner with a girl. Before you could make out what was happening, Geto let out a small cough, drawing your attention back. His voice was quiet but steady as he spoke again. “So, how have you been? I don’t think we’ve really had a chance to talk much.”
You blinked, surprised by his sudden shift in tone. “I’ve been fine. You know, the usual stuff. School and all that.”
Geto nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds like you’ve got things under control.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment, as if he was taking in more than just your words.
“Yeah,” you replied, unsure if there was more he wanted to say. It felt strange, like you were both trying to navigate the boundaries of something unspoken.
Gojo, sensing the shift, decided to add his usual touch of chaos to break the tension. “Alright, enough serious talk. We’re here to have fun, not talk about boring stuff. Right?”
Gojo leaned back casually against the wall, sipping his drink and letting his gaze wander around the party. “So,” he started, his grin mischievous as ever. “What’s it like living with Shoko? I imagine she has some… red flags.”
Shoko smacked his arm, rolling her eyes. “Don’t even start, Gojo. I’m a delight.”
You smirked. “She’s not lying. Living with Shoko’s pretty chill. Except for when she leaves coffee mugs everywhere.”
“Not everywhere,” Shoko interrupted. “Just… places.”
“You left one in the bathroom last week,” you deadpanned, and Gojo let out a loud laugh.
“Classic Shoko,” he said, shaking his head. “I bet Geto didn’t know you were a coffee hoarder.”
Shoko shot him a sharp look, her cheeks coloring slightly. “He’s not here to hear about my habits.”
Geto chuckled softly, watching the two of you with an amused expression. “It’s fine. I’ve seen worse.”
“Oh, so you’re saying you’ve already seen her coffee-stash phase?” Gojo teased, raising an eyebrow. “Interesting. Very interesting.”
Shoko groaned. “Ignore him. He gets worse the longer he’s at these things.”
“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” Gojo countered, his grin widening. His attention turned to you again, and he pointed at your drink. “You’re keeping up, right? No slacking.”
You raised the cup slightly in mock acknowledgment. “I’m pacing myself. Someone has to stay sober.”
“Smart,” Geto commented, his tone measured. He looked over at Shoko, then back to you, as if debating whether to say something. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter now. “So, how’d Shoko convince you to come out tonight?”
“She gave me a pep talk,” you replied, casting a faint smile at Shoko. “I guess I just needed a break.”
“She’s good at that,” Geto said, his voice carrying a warmth that made Shoko glance at him, her lips curving into a small smile. “Pulling people out of their routines.”
You nodded, sipping your drink. “She’s definitely good at that.”
The moment felt oddly intimate, even with Gojo’s constant interruptions and the background noise of the party. You could feel Geto’s gaze linger just a little longer than expected, and Shoko seemed acutely aware of it, though she said nothing.
Gojo, never one to let things settle too long, broke the moment with a loud laugh. “Well, I’d say tonight’s shaping up to be interesting. Who knows? Maybe you’ll end up actually having fun.”
“Don’t jinx it,” you muttered, earning another laugh from him.
“Alright, alright,” Gojo said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “I’ll behave, for now.”
Geto shook his head, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “That’s the best we can hope for.”
Shoko nudged your arm lightly. “Come on. Let’s find a spot to sit before Gojo gets us dragged into something.”
You nodded, grateful for the escape, but as the two of you started to move away, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Geto’s gaze following you.
You glanced back briefly, only to catch Geto and Gojo talking in hushed tones, their expressions unreadable. Whatever they were saying, it wasn’t meant for you to hear.
Shoko was nowhere to be found again, and you were left alone in the kitchen, trying to collect your thoughts as the weight of the party surrounded you. You hadn't planned to drink much, but somehow you found your cup refilled a few times, the alcohol making your thoughts blurrier and your resolve a little weaker.
That's when you felt it again, his presence. Sukuna.
He was never far, it seemed.
You could feel the pull of his eyes from across the room, and before you knew it, he was standing beside you, leaning casually against the counter.
"You're still here?" he asked, his voice low, almost teasing. He gave you a look that told you he knew exactly what was happening.
You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain your composure. "Would you leave me alone already?"
“So,” Sukuna ignored your words, his voice taking on a slightly softer tone. “What did you think of the flowers?”
You raised an eyebrow, a hint of confusion in your voice. “I thought I already told you.”
Sukana replied, his tone casual yet with an underlying intensity. “Yeah, but you didn’t seem genuine over text. Just wanted to make sure you actually liked them.” You didn’t respond, still confused about what he was asking.
“The flowers,” he repeated, crossing his arms. “The ones I sent you. Did you like them?”
For a moment, you couldn’t tell if he was being genuine or setting up another one of his smug remarks. “They were… nice,” you said cautiously.
“Nice?” he echoed. “I think that’s the most lame reaction I’ve ever gotten.”
“I didn’t ask for them,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “So forgive me if I don’t fall at your feet in gratitude.”
Sukuna tilted his head, watching you with a glint in his eye that made you feel both irritated and slightly uneasy. “You’re hard to impress, aren’t you?”
“That's because I’m not interested,” you replied firmly.
“Right,” he drawled, his tone skeptical but not unkind. “So that’s why you kept them.”
You blinked, caught off guard by his observation. “How do you know I kept them?”
He grinned, and he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make the moment feel more intimate. “Because if you didn’t, you would’ve told me by now. You’re not shy about speaking your mind, sweetheart.”
Your cheeks warmed at his words, and you hated the way he always seemed to find a way under your skin. “Maybe I did throw them away,” you muttered, looking away.
Sukuna's lips twitched into a smile, clearly amused by you. "What a shame," he said, leaning closer, his body just inches from yours. "Because I could've sworn you were warming up to me."
You shook your head, trying to clear the fog from your mind, but it wasn't working. The alcohol had already taken its toll, and you could feel the way your body reacted to his nearness, even though you were determined to stay in control.
"I'm not warming up to anything," you muttered. The alcohol was making your thoughts slow, and the way Sukuna was looking at you made everything feel like it was happening in slow motion.
He smirked, leaning in a little further until his breath was warm against your ear. "You sure about that?" His voice was a husky whisper, sending a shiver down your spine. "Because I can't help but notice the way you keep glancing at me. You want to be close, don't you?"
Your eyes met his in a gaze that held all the unspoken tension between you. "You think you know everything, don't you?" Your voice came out quieter than you intended, and you weren't sure if you wanted him to pull away or pull you closer.
Sukuna didn't answer you. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm as he stepped in even closer. His lips barely brushed the skin of your neck, and the sensation made your head spin.
"Don't fight it," he murmured, his hand now resting at the small of your back, pulling you gently toward him. "I can tell you want this just as much as I do."
Your head was spinning a little, but you couldn't deny the truth in his words. The attraction was undeniable, and no matter how much you tried to ignore it, it was there, tugging you toward him.
With a slight sway, you felt your body move closer to his, the alcohol making you bold, making everything feel a little more... daring. Before you knew it, your arm slid around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, your face just inches from his. You could feel the heat of his skin, the tension in the air thickening with every breath.
He gave you a half-smirk, one eyebrow raised, the challenge in his eyes clear. "Kiss me," he murmured, his voice velvet against your ear, the words hanging between you like a promise. "I know you want to."
For a moment, you almost gave in. The alcohol, the tension, the undeniable pull between you, it all felt too strong. You could feel his lips just a breath away, your eyes fluttering closed. But then, you stopped yourself. You couldn't do this. Not with him.
You pulled back quickly, pushing against his chest to create some distance. Your breathing was heavy, and your thoughts were clouded.
But before either of you could say anything, the door to the kitchen swung open with a sharp creak.
"Really?" Shoko's voice cut through the moment. You both snapped back in an instant, startled, as she leaned casually in the doorway with her arms crossed. Her eyes scanned between you and Sukuna, amusement dancing in her expression. "I leave you alone for five minutes, and this is what happens?"
You froze, heart pounding in your chest, as Sukuna remained unfazed, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips.
Shoko raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered. "Guess we're skipping the 'will-they-won't-they' phase tonight, huh?" She chuckled and shook her head. "Let's go. I'm getting you out of here before you do something you'll regret."
You wanted to protest, to stay, but the tension in the air was thick, and you could feel your head spinning from the alcohol. As you turned to follow Shoko, you heard Sukuna's voice, low and teasing. "See you later, sweetheart."
You wanted to punch yourself. You hated Sukuna, so why the hell had you almost kissed him? You knew it was the alcohol talking over you, but still… why did it feel so damn good?
He leaned against the counter, watching you disappear into the crowd, your figure disappearing behind a few people. Sukuna's smirk deepened. Day two and he already had you exactly where he wanted.
another note: it felt a little weird making them almost kiss in only the third chapter but i remembered sukuna would probably try to make a move on her like kissing or sleeping with her because he thinks that’s how she’ll fall for him it just makes sense for his character! also was listening to ‘that’s so true’ by gracie abrams and that song is so sukuna and reader
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#how to lose a guy in 10 days#jjk fanfic#jjk x reader#look of love#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna#sukuna ryomen#sukuna series#sukuna x female reader#sukuna x reader#jujustu sukuna#sukuna angst#sukuna ryomen x reader#ryomen sukuna#jujutsu ryomen#ryomen x reader#jjk ryomen#ryomen x you#ryomen angst#jjk x you
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Haha is this thing even on??? taps the mic and tugs on collar of shirt guuuulppp,, could… we get like head canons for characters favorite positions?? Specifically Toji. I like Toji.
nawt even playing with u rn but the second I read ‘specifically toji’ I was like sigh… thinking about kat… and then my eyes flick up and I read ur user and was like ????4&1&3& MYYY WIFEEEEE???? 70% of the time I see toji I think of youuuu icb like that’s literally ur man 😭😭 BUT OH MY GOD I YIPPEEDDDDDD HI WIFE I gotchu 😋🤍 i’ll do extra toji just for u
characters: satoru gojo, suguru geto, toji fushiguro, choso kamo, shoko ieiri, yuki tsukumo
content: most can be read as gn!reader but a few are afab!reader, fem!reader for the girls since they’re sapphics, oral sex, penetration, sex toys, the world’s briefest subtlest allusion to anal in toji’s, yada yada why list positions when they’re down below
18+, MDNI
satoru gojo:
• before I say anything… #weloveyousubmissivetopsatoru
• missionary is his second favorite position. trust. not only does he get to pin you down with his full weight so that he can feel eeeevery inch of your skin against his, look into your eyes, and push deep into you, but. BUT! you can also grab his hips/ass in this position and guide how he fucks you, taking control of the pace. this always gets this man WHIMPERINGGGG into your neck. smothers you in kisses the whole time
• his ultimate favorite is cowgirl though 😋 satoru needs you bouncing and moaning on it at all times 🙂↕️👆🏽 he loves just reclining back and watching you through hooded eyes, lashes batting against his cheeks and toes curling every time you drop back down
• bites his lips to stifle his loud ass noises but this position makes it easy for you to grab his jaw/chin and force his mouth open which gets him extra hot and bothered
• bonus points if you stick your fingers in his mouth… 👹 he loves that shit
• slaps and gropes and licks your tits like his life depends on it while you ride him into oblivion
• also loves lying between your legs so he can go down on you while he humps the mattress like a dog in heat 😇 satoru busts just like that
• if he’s pent up you get the naaaastiest backshots. fucks you like his life is on the line 😭😭 drools into the crook of your neck while slamming into you over and over again until you’re both cumming, stays inside of you until he’s hard again, and then goes for round 2, 3, 4… also satoru always keeps his full weight on you cos he wants to crawl beneath your skinnnn so you’re always like damn. I’m trapped here
suguru geto:
• prefers positions where he can look directly into your eyes and watch you fall apart. that’s his favorite body part of yours— since they’re windows to the soul and whatnot
• also cos the front of your body is his personal charcuterie board; suguru can play with your nipples, kiss you all over, lightly drag his nails down your stomach/sides and watch you shudder, play with whatever the hell is between your legs, etcetera. his Second favorite body part of yours is your thighs so he also likes stroking, squeezing, and kissing them
• also when you’re face to face you can pull his hair and he lets out the most seraphic grunts/whines… he has a sensitive scalp and he loves when you tug at his strands (but he’ll brood for days if you rip his hair out 🧌 be careful with his 40inch bussdown or he’ll end up on national news)
• missionary is a classic but he likes taking it a step further and folding you over like a lawn chair into a mating press. he fucks you dumb stupidly fast like this
• suguru’s also a fan of having sex when you’re both on your sides, either facing each other or spooning. he’s always the first one to wake up so he’ll sometimes just hold you, petting your hair and drinking you in. inevitably gets hard when you rub up on him in your sleep. he’ll wake you up with kisses and murmured words, then lazily fuck you on their sides… he looooves slow unhurried morning sex
• ride his face and he’ll propose 🤷🏽♀️ CALL YOUR PUSSY BRITISH WITH THE WAY HIS TONGUE IS INNITTTTTTTTT
Brief intermission oh my god I just killed the fattest spider and actually cried cos it was so terrifyinggggggg I had to take a 10 min break tjat was embarrassing
toji fushiguro:
• let’s unpack this list— doggystyle, prone bone, happy scissors (THE NAME?), wall sex, and reverse cowgirl
• not even gonna get into mating presses cos everybody and their mother knows he loves that. obviously. MY GOD AND TITTY FUCKING yeah yall already knowwwww you knowwwwwwww
• doggystyle and prone bone yup yup two of his go-to’s. BEND THAT ASS OVERRR LET THAT COOCHIE BREATHE SHAKE THAT ASS BITCH HANDS ON UR KNEES!!!
• toji’s an ass mannnn he needs to cop a feel while destroying ur 🐱 likes pressing down on your lower back with his palms and forcing your stomach flat against the bed to make you arch cos his bitch pose is nyaaaasty!!! get ready to wear turtlenecks after he gives you backshots cos his mouth mauls your shoulders and neck
• you guys are getting audio for the damn anal thing (it’s really not that explicit you’ll see) (it’s 5 seconds)
• happy scissors… still ctfu at the name. anyways toji basically just stands up while you’re on the bed on your back and he spreads your legs heeeella wide so he can watch how you spasm around his cock. likes watching every millisecond of you taking him 🙂↕️ says the nastiest detailed shit about what’s going on downstairs
• “wanna come shower with me babes?” “yeah something sinister is definitely afoot” “what’s that?” “oh nothing… omw 😁😟”
• and you’re right— cos showering together and scrubbing his hair while he closes his eyes like a content cat suddenly turns into him grabbing your goods. which then turns into him fucking you against the shower wall and he just grins while listening to the filthy noises echo off the walls
• sometimes when toji returns home and you give him his daily hug at the door, he just picks you up with one arm around your waist and pounds you against the wall/door until you start wondering what’ll break first— the surface you’re pressed against or your back 😭😭
• aside from doggystyle + prone bone this man is a fieeeend for reverse cowgirl. folds his arms beneath his head while watching you do splits on his dick without lifting a hand to help you… buuuut he does sometimes grab your hips and hammer up into you. may you survive the night 🙏🏽
• ik his ass is playing nba 2k on the dailyyyy on his beat up console!!! so reverse cowgirl lets him play while you ride him LMAOOOOHTKAJEND y’all either end up on the bed with him on his back, you in reverse cowgirl but you lay your stomach flat between his legs so he can peek over your head, or y’all end up on the couch like this so you can cockwarm him… plus you’re his personal set of bongos 🥺😇🌸🕊️🧚
choso kamo:
• this man is a sucker for any position where he gets to cling to you like a koala
• lotus position is his #1. instead of properly riding him, this position allows you to just grind against him and do like. all of the work. and since he’s the king of dry humping they do this clothed sometimes too
• choso turns into a whimpering mess that melts beneath you every time you two have sex like this, pretty brown eyes rolling back in his head while he squeezes you close in a hug… my shaylaaaaa 😭😭😭
• his second favorite position is having sex on their sides ESPECIALLY when y’all are spooning. he reaches around you to roll his nipples between his fingers. always grasps your jaw/chin and turns your head so that he can kiss you while rocking into you
• missionary is another go-to of his. loveslovesloves the intimacy of it, how he can pepper you in kisses, maintain eye-contact as he praises you, asks if he’s doing good, how you’re feeling, what you need. always guides your legs to wrap around him so that they can be impossibly closer
• satoru and suguru are the reigning champions of munching but best believe choso is on their heels! you’re breakfast lunch and DINNERRRRR he’ll do anything to get his mouth on you. megan thee stallion voice THAT AINT MY BAE HE REALLY MORE LIKE MY BIDET sorry. he doesn’t stop until you’ve cum all over his face and in his mouth multiple times
shoko ieiri:
• no matter what position it is she’s absolutely slaughtering your meow meow 1000
• ive written something about this before but mmmm shoko on top while they scissor and she smokes while intently watching you, those low eyes of her never missing a thing. usually lifts one of your legs or fully drapes it over her shoulder so that she can turn her head and mouth at your leg, squeezing the top of your thigh all the while
• if she’s doing paperwork at jujutsu high or at her desk at home, half the time you end up sitting on her lap so that she can finger you while getting her shit done. or shoko just lets you ride her thigh, occasionally bouncing her leg a bit to hear the way you hiccup as you squirm atop her. she’s addicted to having you on her lap
• shoko also looooves resting on her stomach, reading something or scrolling through her phone while you hover behind her and rub your cunt against her ass. she makes casual conversation or ignores you entirely cos my gawwwdddd she eats up the way you progressively get more and more desperate and needy cos it’s not enoughhh and you want attentionnnn. but something about grinding on her ass makes you cum every single time without fail. and that gets shoko going which is why they end up doing this often
• often guides you to sit between her thighs with your back to her chest so that one hand can reach around you to palm your tits while her free hand goes to town on your 🐱. uses toys like vibrators and dildos on you in this position too
• and speaking of toys… her strap game goes CRAAAAAZY. prefers fucking you like this in missionary, dropping her whole weight on you so that their tits press together. always sucks hickeys into your neck too
yuki tsukumo:
• CERTIFIED FREAK SEVEN DAYS A WEEEEEEK
• walk with me MOTORCYCLE SEX. does that count as a position Idk but I’m rolling with it anyways
• I need to write a fic about this SO. BAD. but she sometimes lets you drive her motorcycle so that you’re in front, and when they get back home and park, yuki’s instantly reaching around you to grab the handlebars and revs the engine. she kisses your nape and whispers teasing words into your ear as the two of you rock against the vibrating seat of the harley. grins like the cheshire cat when you cum in your pants… but she’s quick to follow
• you riding her strap in cowgirl or reverse cowgirl? OH SHES IN! you start internally singing LET ME SIT THIS AAAAASSSSSSS ON YOU from that one beyonce song as you lower yourself down onto the strap
• for a few minutes you’re under the impression that you’re in control, setting the pace as she drags her hands up and down your body and showers you in praise. that is until she grabs your hips and fucks up into your cunt and cheerily smiles as you instantly lose it
• yuki definitely switches positions a lot. she’ll either keep going like that or eventually flip them both over to peg the shitttt outta you. from there, there’s a 70% chance that she’ll pull out and maneuver you into doggystyle
• and speaking of being on top she also likes being on top when they scissor. guides you to lie down halfway on your side cos yuki is a tits And ass woman so she wants to see both jiggle as she grinds down against you. and yes she’s always grabbing and smacking both
• the queen of 69ing truly… she’s an eaterrrr she has the time of her life whenever you ride her face while you bury your face between her legs. yuki wants that cookie so effin baddddd 😭😭 she tends to accidentally break your concentration cos my gawd she is SLUUUURPING on that thang like it’s her last meal
#aisha’s answers#jjk#jjk headcanons#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk fanfic#satoru gojo headcanons#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x reader#suguru geto headcanons#suguru geto x reader#geto x reader#toji fushiguro headcanons#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x reader#choso kamo x reader#choso kamo#choso headcanons#choso x reader#shoko ieiri headcanons#shoko ieri x reader#shoko x reader#yuki tsukumo headcanons#yuki tsukumo x reader#yuki x reader#jjk smut
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☆ trophy wife!
synopsis: you and oliver aiku were married — had been for what felt like ages now. everyone knew it: the media, his fans, his teammates — everyone. but what they didn't know was that... it was a marriage of convenience and that you were nothing more than a trophy wife. but then, why — after three years of ignoring you — was oliver aiku backing you into the wall and telling you he needed you? pairing: afab!reader x oliver aiku [aged up.] wc: 5.7k cw: NOT PROOFREAD. dual pov. loads of mutual pining. idiots to lovers pairing. both of them are pretty pathetic, i swear. marriage of convenience trope. i'll write smut if anyone wants it mwuah mwuah. m.list
.࣪ ִֶ☾. part 01: through her eyes.
30th of june, 2:33 a.m. incident: AITA for freaking out when my husband tried to kiss me on his birthday?
you were well-prepared. you knew what was to come. there was absolutely nothing that could throw you off - other than this.
"a-aiku..?" your breath hitched, eyes widening as the man backed you into the same room you both has chastely slept in for the past 3 years.
the lights were off, the city right outside your window was buzzing, and you swore you felt like you were losing you mind as aiku drew out his long steps towards you.
thump! the back of your knees made contact with the wooden frame of the bed.
having nowhere to hide anymore, you stared at him — all but going insane, "hey."
"need you."
"aiku, listen—" you tried again, words laden with apprehension, eyes jittery as if one look away from him and he'd disappear, "you're drunk."
"no." his heterochrome eyes fell to your red-hued face, and he brought up a thumb up to swipe up at your bottom lip. as the tip of his finger made contact with the soft pout, he almost hissed, "'m not."
"you are." you repeated, deflecting his hand with a careful hit, "you're drunk."
but the man persisted, annoyingly again bringing up his hand up to your cheek and planting it there. his voice was soft, the question so innocent, "so what?"
"you'd—" your eyes met his, lips wobbling as he bent towards you all so greedily slow, "you'd regret... this."
"so what?"
so... what?
how could he ask you that knowing very well that he was breaking rule number 04 of your agreement?
━━━━━━━☆⭒⭒☆━
three years ago, you and your husband spent your entire wedding night setting down rules.
you clad in a white dress that had wrinkled by the time the filtered sunlight had streamed through your window, and him in an expensive suit he didn't give a shit about — his heterochrome eyes had met yours in a careful dance.
"i know you didn't want this. me neither." your legal husband sighed, a broad hand sifting through his dual toned hair as regret interwove into his low decibles, "and i know i cannot make it any better but—"
he sled the piece of paper that you both had spent hours perfecting towards you. the white sheet against the mahogany table, such a striking contrast — and, there was fine-print with two blanks for yours and his signs at the very bottom.
"so this is... final?" dragging the sheet towards yourself with your index, your gaze ran across the rules that you both had thought would make this 'marriage' thing work.
"hm." he nodded, "technically, this is a legally binding document."
your eyes shifted over the words, taking in the phrases you were to consider your holy commands from now on.
there were four simple rules, to be specific:
1. don't interfere in each other's sex lives. 2. don't get caught up in any scandals. be careful. have affairs in private. 3. pretend to be the most perfect couple on camera. no matter what it takes — lies, pr, more lies. whatever. 4. kiss, kiss, don't fall in love!
your brows knitted together, a frown across your painted lips as you read the sheet again and again, and then, once more for good measure. "you want me to be nothing more than a trophy wife, right..?"
"yes," the ex-captain huffed, looking from you to the sheet he had co-authored, "and i promise to be nothing more than your legal husband."
"I'll do my part, you do yours." oliver gave you a re-assuring smile, the kind that made your stomach coil inwards at it's polite implications, "and none of us fall in love with the other."
hopefully.
━━━━━━━☆⭒⭒☆━
being the only daughter of a high-ranking national sports committee member, the starstruck fans and fame-hungry reporters had chalked up your and aiku's pairing to the fates.
"the pro-player and the daughter of the sports committee member," they had discussed in loud whispers, "no wonder they're getting married. so romantic!"
"he was such a womanizer before he met her, you know? who knows what he's like now? probably the same." one school-girl probably had scoffed on the subway, and another had retorted, "that's because it's true love, idiot. people change for love."
"how did they never get caught, though?" others had asked, "it's like their marriage came out of the blue. but well, i guess — when it's fate, then, it's fate!"
well, what they all didn't know was that 'fate' was your father and aiku signing a bunch of paperwork in an office a few days before your wedding ceremony, binding you both to this twisted relationship. not so romantic now, is it?
but eitherways, both of you did your part diligently — that's how this had worked out for so long. this arrangement had worked more than well enough for the past three years.
during his matches, you were dressed in his jersey, his number, cheering his — no, yours — family name as loud as you could. after the same match, aiku would come running upto you and hug you till you felt his tensed muscle slacken against yours like he wanted to hug you. you didn't quite miss the way he whispered against you, "sorry for making you do this, ma."
in the interviews afterwards, he would call you his lucky charm. he would laugh, the sweat beads trailing down the planes of his handsome, perspired face, "what can i say? it's probably my girl that makes my game."
'his' girl? right.
when on a pre-planned date night, he would catch your smaller palms in his, and hover his lips over your skin — fooling the world into believing his lips ever touched yours. next morning, you'd find your faces plastered in the morning tabloids.
oliver aiku was such a good actor, it was sickening.
during every red carpet, you and him were dressed in complimentary suits and dresses, smiling up at each other as if you weren't stuck in whatever the fuck this relationship was.
and when the interviewers would ask him one fine evening, "mr. oliver, you're presenting the award this time, we've heard."
"hah, yes but have you seen my wife yet?" he would gush expertly — somehow even turning his nose and ear tips appear red on command, a pro liar. "i am afraid i wouldn't be able to remember my lines on the stage if i look at her."
and you would look on from the side-line, amazed, because how could that man lie so easily? lie to everyone — the media, his friends, to himself? how could this man tell the cameras you were the very thing he adored, and then go home just to fall asleep after a simple goodnight?
most importantly, how could you ever trust such a big liar? a liar who could even make you believe for a fleeting second that he loved you (even though, according to rule number #4, that was prohibited.)
how, oh how, did oliver aiku make you feel so utterly stupid? how did he even fool you into thinking he may love you?
━━━━━━━☆⭒⭒☆━
3rd of december, 1:06 a.m. incident: my husband comes back from a long night.
"aiku..?" a soft sigh of his name tumbled past your lips, your eyes narrowing at the figure standing at your shared bedroom door in the middle of the night.
it was one in the morning, and you were sure under that once-crisp linen shirt lay foreign lipstick stains and faint whispers of feminine perfume. it was normal — this was normal — your husband getting home late at night after being with another woman. this was normal. and according to rule number 01, you weren't supposed to care about it.
and yet, your mouth grew drier as the same husband walked into the room in the dark — agile footing easily navigating through the learned pathways.
"aiku?" you tried again, this time a bit louder as you sat up on your shared bed. the fabric shifted under your hips, your eyes trying to trace out his outline in the comfortable darkness.
at the sudden sound, the man jumped. flicking on a light with a quick click of his finger, he stared at you all wide-eyed, "you're still up..?"
you nodded and the man cocked an eyebrow, nimble fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt, "why so late?"
well, who was supposed to tell aiku that it was the third anniversary of your 'marriage' — or rather, the contract? who was supposed to tell him that you had stupidly cooked a meal and thought you two could celebrate this utterly dogshit arrangement of yours? who was supposed to tell him? definitely not you.
after all — according to rule number 03 — you didn't need to behave like the perfect wife when the cameras weren't rolling. and according to rule number 04 — no falling in love.
so instead, you pressed your lips into a thin line, "jus' couldn't sleep." forcing your lips into a smile, you asked, "you were out late. had fun tonight..?"
aiku shrugged, "eh, nothing special."
and despite rule number 01 still in effect, you bit out a meek, "jessica?"
you had heard the name slip past his lips once late night and immediately associated the name with a beautiful, striking woman — a woman aiku could possibly love. not you.
"nah..." aiku hesitated for just a second, and some selfish part within you wondered if he was about to lie just to keep your heart. if he was about to say 'i saw nobody' just to make you feel like you meant something to him — but the man crushed whatever hope you had under his boot, turning it to ash and soot. "it was crystal, actually."
crystal..?
pulling his closet door open, he didn't even bother turning to look at you, "'m gonna shower and then sleep, kay? you should go to bed."
crystal...?
"yeah, right." at his casual demeanour, at his absolute nonchalance at whichever woman he was currently seeing — you brought your knees up to your chest, a disgusting pang in your ribcage that traveled down your spine and to your toes, "well, i made some pasta if you're hungry."
"oh?" shimmying off his shirt, you watched your husband flex his well-trained muscles involuntarily as he searched for another shirt in his closet, "you cooked? something special tonight, ma?"
"no."
aiku glanced back, the muscles in his shoulders shifting at the action, his eyes narrowing just a little bit, "sure?"
"mhm." you nodded, trying to take your position back on your usual side of the bed, "anyways, eat up if you get hungry. i'm... off to bed. goodnight."
"g'nite."
this was normal.
and according to the rules you both had set, oliver wasn't breaking any. then, why did you have that death grip on your sheets as you heard him close the door to the shower? why did you still cling onto the name 'crystal' like it was your very last thought before death?
23rd of december, 6:54 p.m. incident: my husband's busy (again.)
"'m not sure if green is my colour." you confessed as you gawked up your own reflection in the humongous fitting room.
"oh no! you worry too much, madam." the manager of the clothing studio grinned, fanning a hand at you as if it would make your worries disappear, "you look phenomenal!"
still looking at your reflection in the mirror, your brain tried to scramble helplessly for any excuse for you to not go to the charity ball tomorrow. flimsily searching for your salvation, your eyes drifted to the man seated on the sofa behind you — busy sifting through his phone, unbothered to your very presence.
he didn't care for you — he never did — but maybe, he could validate that green wasn't your colour. maybe he could give you an excuse to not go to that charity ball... because it hurt to see your husband pretend he loved you in front of the cameras, it hurt to know that he could love you that way if he wanted to and he just didn't want you.
biting down whatever traces of self-esteem left within your system, you called out for him, "does this look... okay?"
at the mention of his name, he lifted his gaze from his phone to you. taking in your figure once, twice — he nodded satisfied, "yeah, you look good, ma. don't worry."
a soft ping! of his notifications drew his gaze back to his phone screen. your fist tightened, nails digging into the soft skin as you went back to being ignored. there goes your excuse to skip tomorrow night.
it would always be some event — a charity ball, a reunion, a sports meet, a fucking conference or whatever — and you had to doll up just to smile up at him. it didn't matter if you didn't feel like going, or if it was a pain, or if that shade of green didn't go well on you.
it didn't matter, as stated by rule number 03.
"—and not to mention that green is really mr. oliver's colour." the same manager prattled on, cashmere words as she tried to persuade you.
your eyes still bore against the man as if the staring at him would be enough for him to understand your grievances and bail you out from this hell. but ofcourse, oliver aiku was only the perfect husband on camera.
the woman concluded with a well-practiced, corporate smile, "—and you both have to match, right?"
ofcourse, you both had to fucking match — courtesy of rule number 03 yet again.
even after moments of heating staring, your husband was more busy on his phone than you.
"i guess if he likes it." you finally shrugged, losing your resolve to the 2v1 match going on in the fitting room right now, "we'd take this, then."
"wonderful choice, madam!" and with that the woman clapped, happily guiding you to a private room so that you could take the dress off.
as you followed her, you looked back at oliver once more — as if you'd catch him staring or something equivalently stupid. instead, the man stayed engrossed on his phone — furiously typing.
probably texting jessica, or crystal, or whoever was interesting enough for oliver aiku to fuck into rented hotel sheets — whoever it was that wasn't you.
9th of january, 7.23 p.m. incident: WAG duties.
here you were, sitting in the same spot in the VIP seating area as you had for three years.
his jersey number proudly flashing on your back, you brought your hands up to your mouth to cheer and clap as oliver defended yet another goal, "go, baby! you're doing so well!"
you knew the camera was on you — it was half of the time. the audience ate up every crumb of your relationship online. so, you just smiled, clapping proudly.
honestly, it wasn't hard to fake the genuine enthusiasm every time he skillfully stole the ball from the opposing team — you were proud of him. after all, three years of being someone's greatest supporter eventually becomes a habit, not a chore.
"didn't you get super lucky with oliver?" someone next to you mumbled.
snapping your head towards the sound of the voice, you saw a pretty redhead — oh, chigiri hyoma's sister.
you frequently ran into the woman on and off the field, and had struck up some semblance of friendship with her.
"hah, nice seeing you here, koyuki." you hoped that the laugh didn't sound as strained as if felt in the back of your throat. chasing the pathetic laugh with a practiced smile, "sure did get lucky, but why do you ask?"
"ah, nothing." the redhead grinned, a teasing lilt to her carefree voice, "just that it's been three years and aiku still tries to catch a glimpse of you whenever he defends. if that isn't love, i don't know what is."
love? love?? LOVE???
"oh?" eyebrows bunching together, perhaps you were taken aback with what a good actor oliver was. you were always so caught up in giving the right reactions for the camera, that maybe you didn't see how well he played his side of the loverman role.
but even as koyuki pointed it out, you were too hesitant to actually check for yourself. what if she was wrong? what if you actually saw him looking at you? what if you fell for the elaborate act like a fool yet again..?
so, still focused on the woman in front of you, you spluttered out a pathetic script, "i mea—mean, yeah he just absolutely spoils me."
"i can see that." the woman laughed, "but you're always there to support him too, so I'm sure you spoil him back just as much."
"m-yeah..?"
you spoiled him? no, obviously not. because that wasn't mentioned in any of the rules, was it?
at the stutter in your words, koyuki jutted her bottom lip out, a sorry expression on her face, "oh come on now, don't give all the credit for your marriage to aiku. it takes two to make it work."
"hah," you nodded, coughing up yet another laugh to mask your half-baked lies, "yeah, i guess it does—"
"—i just really, really hope," the redhead cut you off, clasping her nimble fingers together, "that someday I can find a love as adorable as yours."
and at her words, you couldn't help the slight waver in your smile, couldn't help as your eyes drained themselves of any tangible emotion, "o-of course, you will. don't you worry."
"a love as pure as yours"? funny. cause you were yet to find that kind of love three years down the line.
━━━━━━━☆⭒⭒☆━
࣪ ִֶָ☾. part 02: through his eyes.
3rd of december, 1:03 a.m. incident: shit, my wife's still up.
oliver aiku had made the genius decision to avoid you the entire day before, even going out of his way to make sure he didn't step inside your shared apartment before the clock struck twelve.
a simple man may question his actions and ask 'why?' and the answer was as simple as it came: oliver aiku knew it was your — technically, his too — anniversary.
oliver had woken up by the reminder on his phone that read "anniversary.", he had driven and got you a bouquet of flowers, he had even contemplated asking you out for dinner. and then, he had chickened the fuck out. oliver aiku had chickened out for the third time in the row.
see, the first year, he avoided doing anything because it was the first year. the next year, it felt even more awkward cause he hadn't even wished you on the first anniversary so why on the second? he had planned for the third, and that... also went to shit.
truth be told, oliver didn't want to seem like the fool who was holding onto a fake relationship by remembering or bringing up pointless things like this. cause that was just pathetic, right?
so, of course, he did the smartest thing a man could do — avoided you like you were the fucking plague. even if it meant sitting the entire night away in his car and waiting for the perfect time to return back home.
"aiku?" at your sudden chirp, oliver almost felt a wayward shiver run down his spine. flipping on the switch with a practiced flick, he found you sitting up in your shared bed, "you're still... up?"
and though oliver knew there was no way you knew he had been waiting in his car, his heart genuinely caught up a wicked pace. trying to distract himself — and perhaps, you — he undid the buttons of his shirt, "why so late?"
as you gave him a smile, the man knew something was off. shit.
you spoke so softly, looking so beautiful even in the absolute middle of the night, "jus' couldn't sleep... you were out late, have fun tonight?"
"eh," aiku tried his best to appear nonchalant, trying to be truthful amid the chaos of his mind, "nothing special."
he hoped, he stupidly hoped that you'd say goodnight and go to sleep. instead, you further enquired, "jessica?"
and despite being a sharp man who could lie to god while looking in his eyes, aiku turned his back to you — scared he may fumble in front of you that he hadn't seen another woman for the past three years. he started softly, "nah..."
opening the door to his closet, he tried to think of another name — any name. oh, what was that thing sendou was talking about a few days ago? crystal chandeliers? crystal? cry—
"—stal, actually." the pro-player lied through his teeth. rummaging through his closet, he tried to distract you, "'m gonna shower and then sleep, kay? you should go to bed."
"yeah, right." and oliver aiku almost confessed all his sins just at that 'right'. but instead of further grilling him, you just said, "well, i made some pasta if you're hungry."
"oh?" peeling the familiar shirt off of his body, for a moment, the man believed that you knew what yesterday was. but how could you? you had never been more than what he had asked of you — you had never been more than a contract, a trophy wife.
eitherways, he asked — to confirm. "you cooked? something special tonight, ma?"
but your answer was swift. a straight, sweet blow: "no."
and despite the answer, oliver allowed himself to glance back just this once, "sure?"
"mhm. anyways, eat up if you feel hungry." you nodded, shifting to go to sleep, "I'm off to bed. goodnight."
oliver turned his face back to the closet door, mumbling out, "g'nite."
as the man closed the door to the shower, he clenched his fist and unclenched it. what was he even so frustrated about? he had set the rules with you, didn't he? and you weren't breaking any of them.
you were the most perfect trophy wife, after all, weren't you?
23rd of december, 6:54 p.m. incident: my wife's dad sucks.
oliver aiku was sure he could rip his hair out right now.
aiku: listen, she has nothing to do with it. aiku: i said i don't feel like taking her to the charity ball. dad 2: Why not? Did she say she doesn't wanna go? aiku: for the last time, i said i don't wanna take her. dad 2: Did she do something to trouble you Mr. Oliver?
jesus fucking christ. oliver aiku could really rip his hair out right now.
as dense as he'd like to believe he was as behaving like an actual husband, aiku could still see that you truly did not want to go to that stupid charity ball. the entire ride to the fitting, you had been sitting far too still in your seat — asking him questions like, "is it important for me to go?"
you never asked for anything from him.
each game, you showed up. each event, you dressed to the nines and put on that painfully pretty yet fake smile. each day, you put up with him. and however bad of a husband aiku may be, he didn't want to discomfort his own wife for the sake of some stupid rule, or the sake of that old man who happened to be your dad.
you distant voice kissed his ears, "'m not sure if this shade of green is my colour."
your statement was followed by some candied prattle by the saleswoman, but aiku was too busy re-reading your father's heinous texts to actually look up and check for himself.
dad 2: If she has inconvenienced you in any such way, please let me know.
"—aiku?" and the soft sigh of his name past your heavenly lips, oliver's gaze immediately shot up. you met his eyes in the reflection of the mirror, "does this look okay?"
'okay'? you were beautiful beyond words.
hair hastily tied up, makeup not yet glam enough, dress not fitted to your measurements, only held up by clips — and yet, aiku almost lost his breath when looking at you.
thumb still hovering over the virtual keyboard, he took in your figure once, twice and nodded — all but dazed, "yeah, you look good, ma. don't worry."
he was about to say something more when another stupid ping! brought his attention back to his phone.
dad 2: Or you can reprimand her yourself, if you'd like. We have no objections to it.
'reprimand'?? what the actual fuck did that old geezer mean by that?
aiku felt his fingers gliding furiously across the keyboard, words nothing if not laced with the absolute venom in his system — because nobody talked about his wife like that.
aiku: listen here. aiku: i don't need your input on how to treat my own fucking wife. so, if i hear one more word out of you, just know that i will make you regret it. aiku: that's all. take care, dad.
aiku shut his phone, tearing his gaze away from the screen to where you were standing only to find you already gone.
he was late, like always.
9th of january, 7.23 p.m. incident: scatterbrained on the field.
oliver aiku knew nothing more than the adrenaline rushing through his veins, the blood that roared in his eardrum, the thoughts that bolted through his brain, the overhead lightings that blinded him when he jumped up to defend the incoming attack — oliver aiku knew nothing more than the ball and the field in front of him.
atleast that's what he had always felt when he played. keyword: had.
but lately, his brain was scattered — thoughts a jumbled incoherent tune that only sung to rhythms of your name. every time he closed his eyes, every strained breath, every involuntary flex of his muscles — you were there. you were there in the very fiber of his being.
so, ofcourse, when he defended yet another goal and the ball was expertly deflected off-field, he didn't care about the cheers of his name, didn't care about the teammates that whooped and ran to their spots, didn't care about anyone or anything that wasn't you.
lifting his gaze straight at the VIP box, his eyes frantically searched for you. and there you were — wearing the jersey that he had brought for you, smiling so wide as you clapped and aiku swore for a second, he froze.
no, ofcourse, his body kept moving — muscled thighs sprinting across the field like it was second-nature and eyes scanning for constant threats, oliver aiku was still in the game physically. but mentally? my god, weren't you the prettiest thing he had laid his eyes on?
stealing scarce glances away from the soccer ball, the man found you talking to a familiar redhead. you laughed at something she said, and oliver felt a feverish pang run it's course through his chest. did you ever smile at him like that? or at all, for that matter? did he—
"—AIKU. WHERE'S YOUR FUCKING FOCUS?" his teammate yelled, and the ex-captain's gaze tore back into the field instantly. his teammate ran across the field, chasing the opposing team as they brought the ball into oliver's side of the court, "AIKU, DEFEND. FOCUS."
focus..? focus?? what was that?
because even as the man shielded the defense line with his hulking body and fast-paced thoughts, he couldn't help but steal a glance at your still-conversing self.
what was a fucking match when compared to his wife, anyways?
30th of june, 2.23 a.m. incident: AITA for kissing my wife on my birthday?
oliver aiku was about to lie through his fucking teeth, and it was about to be as pathetic as he could get. but fuck it, how many more years of heartache should he have to endure without giving it a shot?
"a-aiku..?" your voice was so soft, that aiku couldn't help but walk onwards, backing you into the room even despite his clenched fist and trembling calves.
a soft thump! indicated the back of your legs hitting the bed — or wait, was that the sound of his heart dropping into his stomach..?
another soft hiss past your lips, "hey..?"
"need you."
frankly, aiku himself didn't know what the fuck he was on about. thank god, you cut him off.
"—aiku, listen." your eyes were frenzied, and aiku swore he saw your gulping harshly in the darkness, "you're drunk."
he was not... but he was pretending.
oliver aiku had come up with the most perfect plan. he would pretend to be drunk on his birthday and kiss you. if you slapped him, or threatened to divorce him, he could always blame the alcohol.
"no." he purposefully slurred, using his hazed state to bring up a careful thumb to your bottom lip. under his soft swipe, your lips wobbled and aiku felt his knees almost give up whole. keeping up the act, he pathetically worded, "'m not."
"you are." you pushed his hand away and aiku found himself yearning for your touch — even if was to push him away. you repeated, "you're drunk."
you sounded so scared, and aiku almost forgot his well-rehearsed script. as he stared at you, he started considering that perhaps this wasn't the smartest of ideas. but well, he didn't come this far to only come this far, so, instead he brought up the hand to your cheeks daringly.
you didn't slap his hand away, or flinch. so, he softly planted his calloused hand against your soft cheek and bet his sanity on a losing match, "so what?"
okay... maybe he did come this far only to come this far.
"you'd—" your words fell down in sordid syllables, and he took the soft parting of your lips as an invitation to bend forward. your eyes widened at his action but fuck it. here goes nothing. yolo or whatever. "you'd regret... this."
"so what?"
and he truly meant it. if kissing you once meant he would have to give up his sanity — oliver aiku was ready to trade. he was ready to go ahead and trade everything unholy and sinful he was for you. he was ready.
drawing closer, your warm breath fanned against his face and the man couldn't hold back physically. bringing up another hand to your waist, kneading the skin under the luxurious silk dress you had wore for his party, the man delved in to devour you.
his lips against yours in a lewd dance, and oliver almost fucking gasped from how sweet you were. despite dreaming on and on about this exact scene, he could have never assumed how fucking sweet you'd be. how he'd be able to taste the flavour of your gloss, how he'd be able to sync up his ragged breathing to yours, and how instead of pushing him or kicking him in the family jewels — you'd kiss back.
࣪ ִֶָ☾. part 03: through their eyes.
wrapping your shaking hands around oliver's neck, you found yourself pressing your body against his muscled ones. tongue against his, eyes clenched shut at the taste of whiskey in your mouth and his large palm on your skin.
the man pressed against you harder, his body heat almost setting you ablaze — and you let him, pressing against him with just as much fervour.
"a-aiku..." your serrated words got lodged in the back of your throat as the man kissed down your jaw— his actions so primal, unrelenting. you gasped at the soft nip of his teeth against the column of your throat — the action so dangerously intimate. straining, you repeated his name, "aiku...?"
"keep sayin' my name." his heterochrome eyes flicked up to yours, and the man lost all cognitive senses to come back and kiss you on the lips again. his actions were rough — depraved. and even when his lungs ached for oxygen, he used up the last in his body to utter out, "say my name."
"mmph— aiku..!" your kiss-bitten lips against his, the strings of saliva between you two. you repeated, chanting the word like a mantra, "aiku, aiku, a-aiku—"
"—fuck." his broad palm pulled up your dress, bunching up the fabric at your waist to expose your naked thigh.
what was happening? all you could feel and touch and know happened to be oliver aiku.
were you actually kissing him? was he actually kissing you? or was this another stupid plan of his... were there paps to catch this and post about it tomorrow?
at the absurd thought, you pushed him away.
the man looked far-gone. his pupils blown wide, cherry-red lips swollen, and spit drabbling down his jaw — in fact, oliver looked at you as if you had committed blasphemy. his words wobbled, "w-what?"
"why are you kissing me?" and you're sure you meant it genuinely, but the words came out so horrified. wiping your lips frantically, your unsteady gaze scanned the room, "why...? i-is there someone in the room?"
"huh?!" oliver's jaw slacked open at your question. were you drunk? he spluttered, "what..?"
"why are y-you... kissing me, aiku?" you asked, words tattered and confidence lost, "have you lost your mind?"
"i—" he stepped back, horrified he may have done something wrong. his tongue felt thick in his mouth, voice uneven, "di-should i not have kissed you?"
"the rules." your eyes widened, "we... you're not supposed to kiss me."
"but i just did."
"that's what i'm asking," your voice shot up a note, gaze growing hazy at the implications of him toying with your heart yet again, "why did you?"
"we are married." and you swore, you heard the tiniest twinge of disappointment woven into his fact-like statement.
"we are pretending to be married." you bit back, eyes clenching shut at his flimsy excuse.
"s-still married."
"still pretending." your eyes shot opened, the whites now tinted red, you spit, "i'm just your trophy wife, right?"
and at the phrase, aiku sifted his palms through his already tousled hair. eyes frantic, words maddened, "what... what if i don't want that anymore? what if i-i... want you."
what? how drunk was he?
"i want you." he repeated, and you couldn't decide whether the phrase was a curse or a blessing. he stepped closer, if that was even physically possible — hysterical, "i want you."
he wanted... you?
the same man that had ignored you for the past three year wanted you?
a/n: my fucking god, I LOVEEEE pathetic men hahaha. no smut in this one guys cause i was too consumed writing the mutual pining. tagging: @heartbingers @moodswing101 @isabellalovesyou @adollsdarkdiary [just tagging the people on my last oliver post.]
#blue lock#bllk#blue lock smut#bllk smut#oliver aiku#oliver aiku smut#aiku smut#oliver smut#oliver aiku x reader#oliver aiku x reader smut#bllk x reader smut#bllk x reader
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I’ve been in tears over a cat video who had been sent back to a shelter and she’s been confused and sad over it (she got adopted thank god-❤️)
And I had a little idea of a certain idea-
Gun x f!reader:
The rain wouldn’t let up, he regretted parking far as his expensive brogues crunched beneath his weight over the stony path way. His umbrella veiled over him, his reversed eyes remained sharp and intense beneath his sunglasses, always observing, always knowing.
After all he was Gun Park. The Hunted one. Ever since he was a child. It’s all he’s known, repeatedly being the one surrounded, bloody, broken and alone.
Well…….atleast that was the past.
His pocket vibrated as he pulled out his phone to see your text message.
“Get home safe! ❤️”
“Love you ❤️”
“Ew- forget I said that-“
A smirk pulled up his lips as he examined the words of a certain someone, a stirring of warm honey pouring and coating over the ice surrounding his heart that slowly melted into a sweet goo of love, swirling into his bloodstream and carrying over to his hormones, leaving him pleasantly discombobulated.
His lithe fingers glided over the keyboard of his phone.
“I don’t forget anything.”
He sent that without regret. The first person who didn’t stir such an irritation within his closed off mind.
His leather brogues continued to crunch under him before his sharp attention spotted a paper in the window of a warm looking store.
He stopped, his feet stubbornly planted with his morals as he read the curly fonted words.
‘My name is Mimi, I’m 1 years old. I’ve been in this shelter for 368 days. Please adopt me!’
A picture of an animated cat with teary eyes lay beneath as the rest of the words stated how she had been abandoned.
He almost stepped away before a slight tug of his heart remained his stubborn feet rooted.
He blinked.
A retrospect of abandonment, hunted, loneliness, loss, sadness, unexpressed sadness…….he had the words to express his grief……..
Mimi didn’t.
He turned back and headed into the store, a bell jingled and he heard a greeting meow.
His eyes lock onto a grey striped cat walking over to greet him hello, rubbing along his legs as her big green eyes stared into his sunglasses clad eyes.
“…..you recognise your own huh? Impressive. Suppose you won’t be too bad.”
His eyes flick to the cashier, she looked hopeful.
“…..ill take her.”
——————————
Leather brogues crunched small stones beneath his weight as he walked the streets. His umbrella veiling over him and the cage he held in his left hand. The meowing of a curious little fur ball, swatting the rain drops that slid down her cage door.
He walked up a familiar set of steps, before knocking on your door.
The door opened to reveal the only source of his serenity.
“About time!”
You pull him in before pulling him into a melting kiss. His plush lips brush against yours gratefully before he whispered.
“Room for one more?”
He holds up the cage, your jaw fall agape, your forefinger stroking over Mimi’s paw as she held the bars.
“Who’s this….?”
Gun smirked and gently placed the cage down. Letting her out the door. She tentatively stepped out and smelling your slippers.
“…..another stray you’d love.”
BONUS:
Goo dangled a feature tied onto a string as Mimi crouched into a hunters stance with dilated pupils.
The blonde laughed and kept bouncing the feather.
“Come on babes~ show daddy whose-“
Mimi pounced without warning and Goo screamed before slipping over the sofa.
Gun scoffed.
“Weak.”
(Something heart warming and something to soothe my heart.)
#lookism webtoon#lookism#lookism comic#lookism x reader#gun park#gun park x reader#park jonggun#gun x reader
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SHENANIGANS: where Mai gives headcanons to the Voices in your Head ™️ based purely off vibes.
This episode: The voices at bedtime!
((I know some of you need to go to bed, so consider this a call-out/jk. Anyway, get your plushies some water, we're tucking our lil voices in for bed!!
Voice of the HERO: rarely sleeps late, Hero falls asleep fast. With the exception of some emergencies, Hero will go to bed at a reasonable 10-11 PM. She is also a fast sleeper, as well. However, if something happens, she is the first to wake up and check it out. Her spears makes her ideal to deal with home intruders (not that they had any...;3)
Voice of the PARANOID: He TRIES to sleep early at around 9 PM, so she has the time to stew in bed to let the energy out. That backfires as they spent so so SO long worrying about every shadow and creek in the night that actual sleep time is around 12 to 3 AM. And that's not including the nightmares. Often, you find em making something in the kitchen to try and burn off the energy. It works roughly 50%. Then it's off to Hero to share a bed.
Voice of the SMITTEN: he ALSO sleeps at a reasonable time at 10:30 PM. It would be earlier, if not for his meticulous grooming ritual. He takes his time getting ready for slumber. And Long Quiet forbid you interrupt him, mid ritual. There are few things the Voices share a fear in. One of them is a Smitten who couldn't finish his 1000 stroke brushing routine.
Voice of the COLD: man wears a bathrobe, so everywhere is his sleeping spot. He sleeps whenever he feels like it, going for days, pushing his physical body's limits until those limits are reached and he crashes somewhere. And when he wakes, he documents the result and push it more. So far, his record for staying awake is 12 days. And that was cut off because Hero had to step in. Thankfully, when he crashes, he's light enough to be carried to his room.
Voice of the SKEPTIC: As if he's any better than Cold. If he finds something to sink his claws into, he will stay up studying it for days at a time. The only difference is that he knows his limit and is out like a light. And I mean OUT. You ain't waking him up until at least 7 hours. It got to the point where Hero has banned late night books just so She didn't had to deal with 2 chronic stay-awakers.
Voice of the CHEATED: she sleeps a little later, mainly due to waiting for the drugs to kick in and some evening workout so she doesn't wake up with sore limbs. She will always be out by Midnight, and will stay down until morning. Despite her aching bones, her body LOVES to move during the night, so she has to crash fast. As a result, the only time you are waking her is at minimum 5 hours later. She doesn't like sleeping alone, as it often caused her nightmares, so Broken is always with her.
Voice of the BROKEN: ironically, a night owl. She sleeps the latest, roughly around 2 AM. so she and Paranoid have a lot of kitchen talks. Granted, this is mostly because she spent a lot of her day "sleeping" in the Networked Wild, so her circadian rhythm is off kilter. Attempts to fix it have proven fruitless, so they just accepted it. Plus, it's not like she's any worse at night, than during the day.
Voice of the OPPORTUNIST: whether with Thorn, or another voice (coughstubborncough), Oppy sleeps better with company. His nightmares aren't frequent, but they aren't infrequent either. So he often seeks solace in another body, at the dead of 1-2 AM. When he can't find anyone, he sleeps with a knife under his pillow. Many have complained about it, but it's not his fault he finds comfort in it. "Steel can't lie" as Paranoid once said.
Voice of the STUBBORN: he sleeps normally. I don't know what to tell you here. Aside from some pre-sleep work out, he sleeps fine. Though, in the night, he's susceptible to cramps easily so he is often rudely awakened to take care of it....oh and he sleep fights. His room is away from most other Voices because the noise he makes are Loud. Sometimes literally, if he somehow turn on his radio for some scene-appropriate training music. When awake, he recalls none of it, but will agree to cleaning up the best.
Voice of the HUNTED: while incredibly comfortable sleeping in a nest, he is the lightest sleeper, outside of Hero. He usually wakes up first to any commotion, but if Hero is up, he takes it as a sign of things being cared for and go back to sleep. He always offer them to sleep in his nest ("so the flock can be safe" he reasoned), but few took up on his offers, unless the nightmares are THAT bad. His nest is always big to accommodate all of em.
Voice of the CONTRARIAN: She makes a big deal about going to bed around 9 PM, showing signs of fatigue around that time. But when it is time to actually sleep, she waits in her room, until everyone is out cold (or the Night Owls were in another part of the house), before exiting the house and exploring. Sometimes she visits the Princess's cabin and screw with them. But most of the time she visits the Outside World, and get her hands on all she could find, before slipping back into bed, with a Gameboy or smth. No matter how little sleep she gets, Connie will be bright and loud in the morning, much to most everyone's dismay.
BONUS: The voices sleepwear!!
Wears a shirt and shorts: Hero, Cheated, Connie, Oppy
Proper sleep robes/pajamas: Cold, Smitten, Skeptic
Wears what they have: Broken, Hunted, Paranoid
Sleeps in the nude: Stubborn
#mai talks#mai rambles#mai art#mai headcanon time#stp voices#((this is also a call-out to myself))#((i can't help it!!))#((anwyay anyone still up to read this))#((do as i say and not as i do))#((bed))#slay the princess
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Fernando Alonso All-Time Race Record
As voted by you, we start the break-down of the All-Time race records with forever rookie himself Fernando Alonso. With his first full year on the Grid being 2003 and taking 2019-2020 off to race in other series, he has completed a total of 20 SEASONS on the grid as a F1 driver. He has survived the addition of points, major regulation changes, three kinds of engines, multiple styles of cars/teams, and is getting ready to enter his fourth major change in 2026 with the rest of the grid.
He has achieved 2 World Drivers Championships with Renault (Alpine) and was runner-up 4 times (1 - McLaren, 3 - Ferrari). Throughout his first Decade on the grid he only finished outside the points 13 times and only DNF'd 29 times; whereas in his 2nd Decade he has been outside the points 39 times and DNF'd 42 times, almost all of which was gathered during his 2nd stint with McLaren from 2015-2018.
His potential 3rd and 4th WDC's would have been in 2010 and 2012 respectively while he was driving for Ferrari and going head-to-head with the original Red Bull G.O.A.T Sebastian Vettel. As in 2010 he missed out by only 4 points, due to a DNF in Malaysia because of an Engine Failure after 54 laps. Then again in 2012 he missed out by only 3 points with the two DNFs being Belgian and Japan GPs; in Belgium Romain Grosjean squished Lewis…which then caused Lewis to spear Sergio Perez…which then Sergio went airborne and landed on Fernando pushing him out, and in Japan Fernando took turn 1 to close to Kimi Raikkonen who then punctured Fernando's rear tyre and sent him into a spin.
After the 2014 season he went back to McLaren (after they failed him once I might add) in which he had his worse stint in his whole career. This made him decide to step away from F1 with his perception that "The races were predictable, the media is overly harsh, and the fan base is falling." In which he took two years and drove within WEC and Off-roading series before ultimately deciding to return to his original home of Renault in 2021.
Since he has become at peace and just loving to drive for as long as he can, all while knowing it won't last forever; so he is choosing peace and stability over fighting for championships 24/7….hence why he is okay taking time with Aston Martin and is not actively fighting to switch teams; maybe with 2026 bringing back smaller cars and Adrian Newey plus multiple heavy hitters up and down the grid joining Aston he can finally get his 3rd WDC and retire with a smile on his face.
#f1#f1 analysis#data analytics#f1 history#f1 wdc#fernando alonso#reanult f1#alpine f1#mclaren f1#ferrari f1#aston martin f1#formula one#felipe massa#sebastian vettel#romain grosjean#kimi raikkonen#sergio perez#lewis hamilton#nelson piquet#jenson button#stoffel vandoorne#esteban ocon#lance stroll#jacques villeneuve#giancarlo fisichella
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This is my VERY first Fic Writing year-end round-up and I'm really thankful to anyone who's ever read my fics and grateful to all the amazing friends that I have made due to writing fanfiction. It's truly been one of the best things that this year has brought me 💖
I was tagged by @firenati0n, @0npurpose, @sophie1973 @thesleepyskipper and @clockwrkpendrxgon !!
My details:
My ao3: KBee81
My fandom: Red, White & Royal Blue
Total no. of fics in 2024: 36 (33 oneshots and 3 multichaps with 1 that is still in progress)
Total word count: 135,989
JANUARY
🌟Lay Your Hands On Me (2.5K | Explicit)
Henry comes back to the Brownstone-and Alex-after being away. They missed each other (like always) but Henry missed a few things in particular.
FEBRUARY
🌟I don't want to dance (if I'm not dancing with you) (9.4k | Explicit | 2 chapters)
Alex is on a mission to "get plowed." Henry offers to help. Based on a rizcriz prompt.
🌟The Princess Question (1.1K | General)
Henry and Alex talk about princes and princesses with their daughter. She comes to some interesting conclusions.
🌟I'm a fire (I'll keep your brittle heart warm) (1.8K | Teen)
Henry and Alex have a different first meeting. Henry is a little awkward when confronted with Alex in a swimsuit. Based on a prompt from DIBS (@rwrqueer on X).
🌟all I know is (everything has changed) (1.3K | General)
Alex crashes his cart into Henry at the grocery store, causing a BIg realization.
MARCH
🌟the truth(or dare) from my red lips (4.5K | Teen)
Alex and Henry play Truth or Dare. They both come out winners.
🌟dancing round the kitchen in the refrigerator light (2K | Teen)
Inspired in part by geonBAEeee's art. Henry and Alex, now living in the Brownstone, celebrate Henry's birthday.
🌟Kiss and Tell (2.7K | Teen)
Inspired by @everwitch-magiks, a Kissing Booth AU of a Kissing Booth AU.
🌟make the friendship bracelets (2K | General)
Henry Fox wears friendship bracelets and Alex wants one too. Inspired by a post by @yrsdiaz and the Red, White and Royally Old group chat.
🌟champagne bubbles and buttercream kisses (2.1K | Explicit)
Henry helps Alex celebrate his birthday with champagne, a cupcake with buttercream frosting and a blowjob (a missing scene from CMQ's novel).
APRIL
🌟settle into slumber (deep as love) (1K | General)
Henry is putting his daughter to sleep with a bedtime story and Alex falls asleep too. Inspired by hn @shitsidrew on Twitter.
🌟never before and ever since (loml) (2K | Teen)
Henry and Alex ended things. But a few years later, Henry came out and abdicated. He moved to New York City to start a new life.
He finds a familiar pair of warm brown eyes in the crowd one night. Inspired by hn @shitsidrew art.
MAY
🌟I choose you and me (religiously) (7.7K | Mature)
Henry's POV of the Storming of Kensington and the V & A scene.
JUNE
🌟you'd have to stop the world (just to stop the feeling) (5.1K | Explicit)
Henry uses a condom as a bookmark but Alex finds a better use for it. Inspired by a tweet from mari @undrthe_figtree.
🌟cross your thoughtless heart (1.1K | General)
It’s a normal, ordinary Tuesday when Alex finally has the realization. He isn’t really sure how it began or when it started, but one random Tuesday, when he’s at work, he finally notices. Henry has been packing him lunches.
JULY
🌟summer lovin' (happened so fast) (3.8K | Teen)
Henry works up the courage to get Alex to sign his yearbook. It's the beginning of a summer romance...but what will happen in the fall? Inspired by Poms (@princebambiuk on Twitter).
🌟karaoke crimes (this song's for you) (1.3K | General)
His witness is unable to visually identify a suspect from the line up, so Detective Alexander Claremont-Diaz uses an unconventional method to pinpoint the perp. Inspired by Brooklyn 99.
🌟you kiss me (it stops time) (1.3K | Teen)
Alex and Henry are shoved in a closet for Seven Minutes in Heaven.
🌟everything you lose is a step you take (1.2K | Teen)
Alex moves to London and gets a UK phone number. It just so happens to be the old phone number of Arthur Fox. Every holiday, anniversary, or important day ever. Henry texts that number because it’s been vacant since his dad died. (a rizcriz prompt)
🌟Whisk-y Business (2.2K | Explicit)
Henry attempts to make a quiche. Alex is a little...distracting OR a fic based on @0npurpose's prompt "Take one more step and I can't be held accountable for my actions." (Part of Summer Switcheroo exchange)
🌟your future history (it's time) (739 | Teen)
Alex and Henry, both rugby players at the Olympics, take part in the tradition of switching shorts after the game. Henry wants to start a different tradition OR me getting inspired by a tweet about the Olympic rugby players switching shorts...
AUGUST
🌟swing with you (for the fences) (2.3K | General)
Olympian Alexander Claremont-Diaz-Fox has a very special cheering section when he swims for a medal. Inspired by @oohthephysicist's tweet.
🌟this happens once (every few lifetimes) (2.1K | General)
What happens when Alex and Henry go inside Alex's childhood home in Austin after the reelection. (A Missing Scene)
🌟save a horse (600 | General)
Inspired by a tumblr post from @rockingtheorange, Henry and Alex meet at a karaoke bar (a short drabble).
SEPTEMBER
🌟I bet (you can't only have one) (3.8K | Teen)
Alex and Henry have a Kissing Bet.
OCTOBER
🌟my beloved ghost (and me) (2.1K | General)
Alex is not crazy or insane, but he’s pretty sure that his apartment is haunted.
It’s a new development. Only in the last couple of days has he felt like he’s not alone, like there’s another presence in the apartment with him when he’s supposed to be by himself.
He has acquired a ghost, somehow. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.
🌟Talk Turkey to Me (1.5 | General)
Henry teases Alex about The Great Turkey Calamity.
🌟hooked on you (2.1K | General)
What he really needs is a distraction - something to get his mind off of how it feels like they are driving over large potholes in the sky. Something that takes all of his focus so he’s not thinking about all the ways he could die in this flimsy held-together-with-duct-tape-and-dreams bucket too many feet away from the sweet, safe and reliable ground beneath his feet.
Alex is running through a list of possible distractions when the ball of yarn hits him on the foot. Inspired by a post by CMQ during their travels for The Pairing book tour.
NOVEMBER
🌟you can see it (with the lights out) (6K | Teen)
Alex freezes, hands clenched at his side. The hair on the back of his neck stands up. “Wait,” he says slowly. “Are you telling me that I am not alone on the ship?”
His mother’s voice hums. Even though she’s not here, Alex feels like he can almost see her small smile. It was the same look that she gave him when she was helping him with his homework when he was little, and he got the answer right.
“Yes, Alex,” OS answers. “You are not alone.” A Darkness Outside Us AU.
DECEMBER
🌟the warmest bed (I've ever known) (7.2K | Teen)
Another caketastrophe, a few misunderstandings and OPERATION ONE BED.
🌟Spotify Wrapped Drabbles 2024 (1.6K | Teen)
A collection of drabbles inspired by my Spotify Wrapped.
🌟all dressed up (in stardust & tinsel) (3.4K | Teen)
Alex has had a long and storied love of Christmas trees and by extension, Christmas tree decorating. There’s a science to it. A method to the madness for maximum Christmas spirit and festivity.
Whatever Henry is doing? Well, it’s not it. It’s not even close.
OR Alex helps Henry decorate a Christmas tree and learns something new in the process.
🌟got my love (to keep me warm) (4.5K | Teen)
He plans to say something sweet perhaps, or at least something less abrupt and awkward. But like always, his mouth moves faster than his brain and he ends up blurting out “Do you think anyone actually knows what fun it is to ride a one horse open sleigh, or are we all just taking their word for it?”
Henry lifts his head up, and looks at Alex, fighting a smile. Alex can see the laughter in his eyes.
OR Operation One Bed continues when Alex and Henry go for a winter sleigh ride.
🌟take me home (forever and ever) (1.6K | Teen)
Alex has a proposal plan that doesn't, well, go according to plan.
🌟kiss me at midnight (4.8K | Teen)
Henry hates New Year's Eve, until he doesn't.
WIPs & UPCOMING FICS
🌟grab my hand (don't ever drop it) (36K | 6/? chapters | Mature)
This is a The Charm Offensive AU - Alex is a producer on a reality dating show where Henry is a reluctant Prince Charming who's dating a large group of women. When true love happens, it doesn’t always follow a script.
I WILL NEVER ABANDON THIS but I lost a little motivation for it. Finishing this fic is one of my goals for 2025.
🌟I have a few other things in mind and I have an upcoming fic for the Wrap It Up exchange. Looking forward to seeing how much I can improve as a writer and where writing takes me in the next year. Thank you all for your support and words of cheer because they really do encourage me!
If you have not been tagged, please use this as an open one and I will also tag a few people that I don't think I've seen fic round-ups from (no pressure):
@miharaikko @jafffacakess @msmarvelouswinchester
#rwrb#firstprince#red white and royal blue#henry fox mountchristen windsor#alex claremont diaz#rwrb fic#the charm offensive#christmas#fic roundup#year in review#wrote more than I thought I did
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fujo gf who gets w a celebrity so she can better critique the rpf she reads of him and his costars
#step 1: get him to fall in love with you.#step 2: ask him to fuck his coworker.#step 3: take notes?#step 4: profit.
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Portal 2 replay review: Hrmnnngggngmngm 💕💖💝💞✨❤️💗
#WPP#WPP2#Portal#I've only just revived GLaDOS (obviously had to play at least that far lol) but like hhnnnrgng <3 <3#The graphics! The space! The levels from Portal 1! The cutesy Aperture animations and the three(!) voice actors!#I've completely fallen in love with GLaD's P1 design but honestly what could possibly compare to her P2 design she's so pretty <3 <3#Stepping over her corpse to wake her up I'm normal I'm fine#And that we start in Test Chamber 1 and then fast track to 19 and end up in the toxic goo ravine fjdlsakfjsdf#I'm Fine I Swear#I forgot so many little details like the floor falling out or the buzz of the portal device (don't like but! Learned a new thing! -#- If while you're carrying Wheatley and you want the buzzing to stop just ''set him down'' - since he can't be set down lol#It cancels the noise :) Much nicer on the ears)#And Wheatley's voice actor ♪ His little flusters and chuckles hehe he's quite personably#I am So excited to get to the audio commentary fdjsalkjfdsf I found it and I'm biting biting biting#I have taken so many screenshots don't even get me started#Like all told for Portal 1 I probably took what like maybe 50 total? I'm probably already at 20 lol#Oh and I picked up a turret and it exploded on me :( I'm so distressed#I only want to knock over turrets I don't want them to explode!! Weh#Hhhh looking forward <3 Yay finally <3 <3#WPVG
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Season 3 Elias is so goddamn fucking funny to me I forgot what a rollercoaster he was during my first listen.
Like the s2 finale has Jurgen Leitner giving Jon the whole "monsters are real speech" and Jon's like "I need a cigarette. NO ONE get brutal pipe murdered while I'm gone" and Jurgen fails step 1 because Elias walks in and grabs Jon's point-and-click-adventure pipe he'd been carrying around and Brutal Pipe Murders. Which, of course, Jon walks back in on and is prime suspect #1 due to literally every single feature trait and word he's said in the entirety of s2.
So naturally s3 starts with Jon on the lam and Officer Tonner like "I'm gonna arrest him for brutal pipe murder" and I'M like "Shit. I hate this. Elias is going to SO easily pin it on Jon and get away with it."
EXCEPT Elias walks in and is like "hello Ms. Officer no Jon Archivist did not kill that man, also I won't tell you anything else, also this is what you sound like" while reciting all her childhood trauma and all her illegal activity that will get HER sent to jail for brutal murder of the non-pipe variety and now I'm like "....huh." He's also like "Jon didn't do it but you can kill him if you want maybe :)" Elias your alibi????
And then we come BACK with Jon storming Elias's office with his two lesbian bodyguards as back up and he's like "I'm gonna use my powers to make you confess to pipe murder!" At which point Elias is like "It doesn't work on me. But I'm having fun so Martin go get everyone I need to tell you all how I committed pipe murder." and Martin does and Elias is like "Yes I pipe murdered. I also killed Gertrude. I love murder. You will not be compensated extra for this time. Get back to work." And they... DO... just go back to work. Because work is haunted. One of the lesbian police officers works here now, too. This just happened. "Also living dolls from Russia are about to Apocalypse the world, Jon go stop it," Elias says, while also saying "no I'm not gonna tell you how to stop it."
Okay???? Mr. Elias man??? And you're like "maybe he's a ruthless tactician? Maybe he's brutal but it's all in the interest of stopping the doll apocalypse??? He wants to save the earth???" Except THAT'S not even true it's actually more like he's trying to get the Russian dolls kicked out of line at Disney World so HE gets to meet Mickey Mouse first by which I mean, start his OWN Apocalypse, because if the dolls do it first well then what's the point of apocalypsing a planet that's become someone else's sloppy seconds.
Anyway Elias's master strategy here is to bring the human equivalent of a drowned cat to the gun fight and just sit back and watch Jon fall down every set of stairs he finds while Elias goes "This is good. This will work." His name isn't even fucking Elias.
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OBSESSED. ☆ SYLUS QIN.
📰 extra, extra! why is your bodyguard so obsessed with you? girl, you wanna know...
warnings. fem! reader, popstar! reader, bodyguard! sylus, established romantic history ( very brief ), pet names, semi-public, fingering, oral ( fem. receiving ), cowgirl, unprotected p in v. wc. 4.6k.
an. reused the header and a bit of the plot from an aaron hotchner fanfic i wrote on wattpad in like… 2021??? tweaked most of the details obvs but ig i was born as a bodyguard au lover
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request
Your bodyguard was such a buzzkill.
Dragging you out of every party you make an appearance at, replacing your shots with water once he believes you’ve had one too many, watching you like a hawk no matter where you are or who you’re with...
You despise those who have an inability to have fun, so as far as you’re concerned, Sylus is the devil reincarnated. You aren’t exactly shy about your opinion of him either, and perhaps in hindsight, that is exactly why he was currently pacing through the party you’re in attendance of to try and ruin your night yet again.
(Ruin your night or… do his job? Hell if you care about the logistics of it all. Two sides of the same coin, you think.)
His protective instinct only grew more intense ever since the two of you shared a kiss before a concert of yours that left your lipstick smeared over your face like there was no tomorrow…
And what did that asshole do? Nothing. It was in his nature to make your life miserable after all. Sylus let you walk out in front of your thousands of fans, makeup messy and appearance disheveled all from his mouth on yours alone.
And boy, did the tabloids have a time with that one… Who was the culprit? A new fling of yours? Fiancé? Possible baby daddy? Each and every news outlet had some uniquely wrong to say. Can’t a girl have a makeout session with her bodyguard in peace?
Unfortunately for you, the paparazzi have been hounding you ever since that day, itching to get the 4-1-1 on your love life.
And ever since, you haven’t given many people the time of day—including Sylus. Tonight, you’ve managed to stay two steps ahead of your dear bodyguard and evade eventual capture for just a bit longer. You’re currently surrounded by a few of your friends, socialites and actors alike.
Your lips seem to flap freely when you have a few drinks in you, but tonight, you’re sober but even more talkative than ever. Your chosen topic of conversation? Your overbearing and stupidly handsome bodyguard, of course.
Too lost in your story, waving your arms around to your theatrical pleasure, you hardly noticed the way your friends’ faces paled to a ghostly shade of white, their eyes nearly bulging out of their heads and their lips parted as if they had something to say but… couldn’t.
All the while, you were too busy blowing off the steam that you’d acquired from your last encounter with the forsaken bodyguard. “…And I was like, why are you so obsessed with me?”
As fate would have it, you hear a throat clear behind you followed by an annoyed sigh that you’ve grown to know like the back of your hand. You spin around, already wearing a scowl.
“Obsessed with you, hm?” Sylus says, his voice low and seemingly dangerous, though your utter distaste for the man rids him of his intimidation. “You’re quite self important. I could never live in a world where I’d fall at the feet of an egotistical popstar.”
You roll your eyes at that. Who does he think he is? Everyone loves you—all except for the disgustingly handsome man standing in front of you.
“Mm… well, you can always die an untimely death and never have to work for me again,” you reply, giving him the most passive aggressive smile known to man. “Hopefully that gives you an ounce of hope.”
“It does,” he replies, returning the same expression that you gave him.
It’s borderline infuriating how undisturbed Sylus was. No, it is infuriating. No matter how many insults you chucked his way, he never cracked. (And the one time he did, it led to the two of you playing tonsil tennis in your dressing room...)
You shake your head, huffing in utter annoyance. You then hold your wrists up for display, cocking your head to the side as you give him a mock puppy dog expression. “Sooo… are you here to take me away, Officer Buzzkill?”
Sylus merely blinks in response to your taunting, taking a firm grasp on one of your wrists before he tugs you through the sea of partygoers. He laces your fingers together, squeezing tight as to not lose hold of you.
“Must you always make things so difficult?” he asks, keeping his eyes ahead.
You shrug your shoulders. “More or less.”
“More or less?” he echoes, glancing over his shoulder to properly look at you. “I suggest you try a different style of communication, sweetness. Your clipped attitude will get you nowhere.”
“Oh? But it’s gotten me so far already…” you trail off, glancing at his lips for a few agonizingly long seconds before a smirk tugs on the corner of your mouth. “In fact, I think it can get me even further.”
Sylus’s jaw tenses, his eyes slipping shut as he tears his gaze away from you. He can’t handle the way you’re looking at him—so unbelievably beautiful with those siren eyes of yours, the mere sight of you already stirring something unwanted within him.
He turns around to continue leading you through the crowd without a reply. You begin to glance around yourself, attempting to plot your brilliant escape.
“Don’t,” he flatly states, his iron grip tightening on your hand.
“Why not?” you ask, your voice holding a strong tone of defiance.
Sylus gives your hand one solid tug before you’re standing in front of him, his free hand pressing onto the small of your back as he keeps you pressed to his chest. “If you haven’t noticed, you brat, I will always chase you. I’ll find you just the same.”
You almost deflate under his intense gaze, his deep red eyes piercing through your own. It wasn’t often that Sylus manhandled you, but when he did, it made you feel… different. Intrigued, maybe.
“How touching,” you deadpan, “but you still get on my nerves.”
Sylus clicks his tongue. “Tch. Oh, I’m sorry… when have I ever cared about what you think?”
“Never,” you say with a dramatic sigh. “You know… if you hate me so much, you should just quit on me.”
Sylus rolls his eyes, his red irises drawing you in like no other. “I don’t… hate you. You should be rather thankful that I don’t, because I’m doubtful that anyone else would want this job of mine—you’re quite the handful.”
“Mm, I’m only saying,” you murmur with a shrug, giving his hand a harsh squeeze as if the roughness of your grasp would make him let go, but he, of course, does not. “You don’t need this job, and yet, here you are.”
He raises a brow. “What do you mean by that?”
You smile, the same shit-eating grin that he has grown to be all too familiar with. “Give me your wallet.”
Sylus huffs, his broad shoulders deflating as he fishes his black leather wallet from his back pocket and hands it over to you. You take it with ease, taking your hand from his as you crack it open.
You slip his Black Card from the sleeve, proving that he truly didn’t need the job for any monetary gain. And then, a triumphant smile graces your lips as you pull out none other than a Polaroid photo taken of you—backstage at your concert just before the kiss you two shared.
“Ooh… what’s this?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.
Sylus reaches forward to try and snatch the tiny photo from you, but you are far too quick. “What are you revealing exactly? That you were secretly snooping in my wallet prior to now?”
“Yes,” you admit without hesitation, “and that you’re secretly rich and in love with me. Does that make us even?”
His jaw sets, his piercing gaze set on yours. He works to snatch the photo from you, tucking his belongings back into his wallet before he slips it into his pocket. “No. Maybe if you were less of a pain, we could be even.”
You wiggle your eyebrows in suggestion. “You’re not denying being in love with me, dear bodyguard of mine.”
Sylus gives you a deadpan expression. “Must you always be so self righteous? God forbid I am proud of you and your success.”
The genuine nature of his words set you back a step, your brows knitting together and your lips parting. If Sylus noticed the shift of your expression, he didn’t mention it. Thankfully. His cold fingers lace with yours once more, continuing the stride towards the exit of the party.
“Rather than putting on this show of yours, you truly should be thanking me for saving your reputation,” he quietly adds, his hand now curled around your waist as you approach the exit. “There is a swarm of paparazzi outside who are desperate to get their grimy hands on a picture of their beloved popstar doing something remotely scandalous.”
(And if Sylus knows anything about you, it’s that you love scandals. According to you, they ‘make life worth living’. Tch. Diva.)
You chuckle. “Aww, you care!”
“Do I care, or is it my job to look after you?” he asks, plucking his sunglasses from his pocket to place them on your face, shielding your eyes from the rapid camera flashes of the paparazzi. “Public intoxication numerous times a week is not a very good look for you, sweetie. Incredibly frowned upon.”
Your jaw sets as you listen to his words. While they are undeniably true, you don’t have any plans for admitting that—not now or in the near future.
“Making out with my bodyguard is frowned upon as well, but you didn’t seem to be complaining about that bit,” you say under your breath.
Your voice was low enough that your weighted words were almost drowned out by the booming music of the party and by the chatter of the photographers you’re about to be engulfed in. Almost.
Sylus flashes you a glare. “You shouldn’t mumble. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”
“You heard me,” you state.
He did hear you, that was exactly the problem. It was no coincidence that the two of you haven’t spoken much since your very intense lip lock. You’ve been avoiding each other, evading the invisible string that connects the two of you like both an electric current and a noose.
The tension between the two of you was tangible, palpable even—you could practically taste it just as well as you could still taste his lips on your own. It was intoxicating, imprinting, searing.
It managed to distract you from the flashing lights of the cameramen who were swarming you, capturing flick after flick of you being led through the crowd.
You chew on the inside of your cheek. “You know, you can help me out with all of this,” you murmur, gesturing towards the paparazzi. “My publicist came up with an idea that will get them off my back for a while. Give them the answers they need and… whatnot.”
“Is that right?” he asks, glancing your way. “Do tell.”
You swallow the lump in your throat, tuning out all of the chattering paparazzi who are currently surrounding you. “Be my impromptu mystery man for the cameras. I’ll give you anything you want in return, I swear it.”
Sylus hums, the sound omitting a deep rumble into the air. “Anything I want? My, my, sweets, you’ve made me an offer I cannot refuse.”
You huff, grasping onto the collar of his jacket as you pull him into you. “Just go with it.”
“Just go with wh— mmph!” Sylus’s words were muffled by your lips slotting against his in a searing kiss, his hands instinctively finding their home on the curve of your hips.
The kiss was… tame. It was supposed to be, after all. It was merely for the cameras, a way for you to put an answer to the questions that have been flooding your inbox and left your name circulating in the news for days on end.
But when Sylus’s tongue brushes against your bottom lip, you slightly pull away, muttering a faint, “Sylus, what’re you…” before he pulls you right back in, his large hand now resting on your cheek.
“If you’re going to use me like a whore at your disposal, I’d suggest you let me enjoy myself and taste you properly,” he sporadically says into your mouth, his hand shifting to tangle in your hair as he tilts you to his liking, your tongues meeting in with gentle swipes. “See? I knew you could do better than that.”
True to his suggestion, you kissed him like there was no tomorrow, your hands fisting his shirt in your palms as your lips moved in tandem with his. Lipstick and paparazzi long forgotten, you find yourself getting lost in the moment, a soft whimper leaving your mouth as his hands give your hips a firm squeeze.
The moment he hears that sweet, impossibly faint sound of your pleasure, he knows that he’s in for it now. That’ll do it for him.
He abruptly pulls away, clasping his hand onto yours as he continues pulling you through the now stunned crowd of paparazzi. Sporting an erection and your lipstick smeared on his lips makes no difference to Sylus—if anything, he enjoys the world knowing that he has the hots for the woman who he has sworn to protect.
Sylus helps you into the passenger seat of your black SUV, closing the door behind you before making his way to the driver’s seat. He peels off, driving with intention through the streets of the city.
It was now evident to you that he was driving the SUV in pursuit of his favorite lookout spot, one that overlooks the bustling city from a distance. Sylus had taken you there once before as per your request to ‘stay out a bit later’. Nothing happened then, but you have an inclination that your luck has changed.
“I know what I want from you,” he states, placing a hand on your thigh.
How did he already manage to figure out what he wants in return for helping you? A raise? A car? The blood of his enemies? You’re intrigued, raising a brow. “You do?”
“I do,” he confirms without missing a beat. “Get into the backseat.”
A gasp leaves your kiss swollen lips as you mull over the utter implications of his words. It didn’t take a genius to understand them, but you were… surprised to say the least. “I think you’re overstepping your boundaries, Mr. Qin.”
In a literal sense, sure he was. But if the two of you were going to judge based on what you two want, he absolutely wasn’t—you both knew that.
He chuckles, the sound low yet infuriatingly sexy. His hand slips beneath your skirt, his middle finger brushing along the damp spot of your panties. “Your body seems to disagree with you, ma’am.”
And if you weren’t already wet before, hearing him call you ma’am was more than enough to do it for you. “Shut up,” you grumble.
“You can make me,” he suggests, setting the vehicle into park before giving your thigh a few pats. He nods his head towards the backseat. “Go on.”
Without hesitation, you kick your heels off and crawl into the back of the vehicle, thumping down on the seat with a sharp sigh. Sylus follows you within the blink of an eye, his knees settling on the spacious floor of the car.
“What’re you…” you ask, though your eyebrows raise as the pieces of the puzzle click together in your mind. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh,” he repeats, his warm hands rubbing your knees as he spreads your legs apart, his lips finding the tender skin of your inner thigh. “You know… you truly should be resting for your show tomorrow evening.”
“Should I?” You bite on your bottom lip as he leans forward, nosing at your clothed pussy with a muffled moan of his own. He inhales deeply, the scent of your arousal driving him to the brink of insanity.
“You should,” he answers, pressing an open mouthed kiss on your cunt through the fabric of your panties. “You should stop talking too. You need to rest your voice just as much.”
You swallow hard, whimpering ever so softly as his fingers hook beneath the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs to give himself access to your glistening core.
His eyes are set on your heat, his cool hands hiking your thighs over his shoulders. He rests his cheek on the warmth of your inner thigh, glancing up at you. “Because believe me, sweetie, the things that I want to do to you will not be in favor of that beautiful voice of yours.”
“Oh?” you ask, titling your head. “What will they be in favor of?”
He grins, wicked and devilishly handsome. “I’m glad you asked, because there’s someone else I’ve been wanting to hear from.”
Before you have the chance to reply, he’s already got his face delving deep between your legs, the filthy sounds of squelches and slurping filling the otherwise silent car.
“Oh, I— mmh, you didn’t answer my… my question,” you stammer out between breathy moans, your head tilting back on the headrest as your eyes flutter shut.
Sylus smiles into your pussy, pointing his tongue to accentuate the squelching noises that your heat was making, entirely wet and dripping for him.
“Can you not hear her?”
Never in your life did you think that having a man on his knees talking to your cunt would be this arousing, but… you’re fucking soaked.
“I-I can,” you gasp, cracking your eyes open to look down at him. “Fuck, you can talk to her in fifty languages for all I care, holy shit.”
He quietly chuckles, the sound sending a spark of vibrations onto your already sensitive clit. Your thighs tense, aching to close on him, but he keeps them spread with his strong hands on your thighs.
Your lips part as a string of breathy sounds leave you, beautiful moans and needy whimpers alike—all of which play as music to Sylus’s ears. It was nice to know that your mouth was good for more than just singing and bickering at him…
Teeth nibbling into your bottom lip, you glance down at him, only to be met with the most crazed eyes known to mankind. So disheveled, your slick leaking down his chin while his tongue delves into your heat like a man starved. He looks like he’s in his own pussy drunk heaven.
When you feel his pointed tongue begin to curve and lick in ways it hadn’t before, you do your best to follow his movements.
S-Y-L-U-S he spells on your puffy cunt with his writing tool of choice—none other than his stupidly talented tongue.
“You’re so—”
“Shh,” he cuts you off, his voice more like a husky whisper now. His pupils were dilated to the size of saucers, sucking on your clit before releasing it with a harsh pop.
Filthy sounds fill the air, your own breathy moans spilling from your swollen lips in tandem with the messy sucks of Sylus’s lips on your cunt. Not to mention, your girl truly was loud.
“Singing so beautifully for me,” he rasps, his eyes flitting up to watch your blissful expression. Lidded eyes, parted lips, flushed skin—an absolute wet dream of his come to life.
You bite your lip, hardly focused on the words coming out of his mouth. “Mmh, what…?”
“Quiet, sweets,” he repeats, hooking his hands even tighter around your thighs as he gives your heat a few more harsh licks. “I told you I was talking to her, didn’t I?”
It doesn’t take much longer for your legs to begin to tremble, your body writhing in his grasp as he sets you any way but loose. Your hips buck up, your core grinding against his wet muscle as you chase your release.
Sylus was more than eager to give it to you, redoubling his efforts while locking his hands over your legs to keep you steady enough for him to pleasure you effectively. The warmth pooling in your belly was far too much, far more intense than anything you had ever experienced before.
“Mmh, I… I’m coming,” you warn through an airy whine.
And when you do, Sylus swoops in even more greedily than before, his flat tongue lapping at your honeyed release. There was no way he would ever be able to go without tasting you like this now that he has. Fuck, he’s such a goner.
As you come down from your high, you grin with a few pants. “Look at you, falling at the feet of your ‘egotistical popstar’—mmph!”
Sylus plunges two fingers into your mouth to shut you up, rising to plant himself onto the seat beside you. “That’s hardly an insult to me anymore, my dear. I know what I am.”
He pulls his spit slick fingers from your mouth, bringing them to your pussy as he gently circles your sensitive clit. His free hand guides you through the motion of straddling his lap. With a simple nod of his head, he gestures for you to lift your shirt up, and you do.
“And what’s that?” you ask, watching as he leans forward to mouth at your breasts through the fabric of your bra.
“I’ve already told you,” he murmurs, bringing his free hand to his belt to free his cock from the confines of his pants. “A whore at your disposal.”
“I knew it,” you chuckle, though the sweet sound is interrupted by a breathy moan that he coaxes out of you once he slides his fat cockhead along your folds.
He clicks his tongue, tilting his head to the side. “Are you not going to reciprocate my affection?” he teases, grasping tightly onto your hips. “Or do I have to work a bit harder for it, ma’am?”
Your knees would have certainly buckled if they weren’t firmly planted on the leather seats of the SUV. Who would have thought that you had a thing for white-haired bodyguards who call you ‘ma’am’?
Sylus raises a brow, a cocky smirk tugging on his lips. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”
You feel your face heating up more and more the longer you look him in the eyes, shifting your hips so that the tip of his cock finally meets your entrance. “Just… shut up and put it in.”
“How demanding,” he hums, smirking ever so slightly as he uses his grasp on you to make one sharp snap of his hips, burying balls deep inside of your heat. “But as you wish, pretty.”
You cry out immediately, the burn of the stretch fading into unfolding pleasure. Eyes locked on each other’s, breaths mingling with ease, skin slicked with sweat, it was…
“Perfect,” he whispers, smoothing his hands along your hips before one reaches up to cup your cheek. He pulls you into a deep, searing kiss. “So, so perfect.”
Your movements are timid at first, you were merely testing the waters that had yet to be explored. His cock stuffed you full, his tip kissing your deepest points with ease, earning a muffled whimper from your mouth that his lips swallowed up eagerly.
Sylus begins to help you move a bit quicker, rocking your hips forward in smooth rolls, earning moans from the both of you that seemed to come straight from your guts.
“Give it to me how you like it, baby,” he encourages, both of his hands planting firmly on your waist. “Use my cock however you need it, sweets, it’s yours.”
His words have your clit pulsating around his thick shaft, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you begin to work up a pace of your own that has your heart beating wildly.
“I always… fuck—I always knew you were obsessed with me,” you jest, your grin stretching wide.
Sylus hums, the sound low and deep, his iron grip on your hips helping you maintain the intensity of your movements whenever your muscles beg for a break. “Yeah? Needed me to be buried inside of you to have that bit of confirmation?”
You nod with a smile, hands wrapping around his neck as you plant your forehead against his. He smiles too, a breathy moan leaving his mouth as you circle your hips in a way that has him seeing stars.
“Fuck yeah, I’m obsessed with you,” he admits without a semblance of shame, tilting his head back on the headrest.
Already feeling your second orgasm approaching, you bury your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne and sweat that made a musk that was so beautifully Sylus. His hands smooth over your backside, giving your ass a squeeze.
“Tch, let me see that pretty face,” he demands, nudging you with his shoulder so that you were sitting up once more. “You look so beautiful like this.”
You struggle to form a sentence, bouncing unabashedly on his cock, skin slapping together in an erratic pattern that spurred you even further. A string of whimpers and whines leave your puffy lips. Though your reply lacked words, it perfectly communicated what you wanted to say.
“Oh, I know it, baby,” he rasps, tilting his head back again as his eyes slip shut. “Pussy’s addictive—shit, I’m obsessed with her too.”
You begin to lose yourself all together, reduced to nothing more than a blissed out woman riding her bodyguard’s cock. “Sylus, I… mmh, I’m gonna cum.”
He nods in understanding, smoothing his hand through your hair as he brings you in for another kiss. It’s all teeth and tongue, messy and drooling in the most beautiful way possible.
“Gonna come inside you if you keep riding me like this, baby,” he warns, pulling back to look you in the eyes.
You feel his cock twitch inside of you, as if it were confirming his words. You don’t do this often, contrary to popular belief, but you are on the pill. Luckily. “Please do.”
Sylus pants through a smile, licking his lips as he guides you through a few more fleshed out grinds on his lap. “Huh… you really are something special.”
A deep groan leaves his mouth as he dips his head, grip tightening on your waist as you ride him through your shared orgasm. You aren’t sure where yours ended and his began, or if you had gotten the order wrong entirely. All you know is that in that moment, the two of you became one.
Panting, your hand plants on the fogged up window of the vehicle, leaving your handprint in its wake. Sylus lets out a breathy chuckle, raising his own shaking hand to the window.
You watch through lidded eyes as he draws a tiny heart, writing his and your first initials inside of it with a little + in the middle. How cute.
Sylus then turns to face you again, bringing his hand to your cheek. You nuzzle into his palm, placing a kiss on his skin. “I have something to admit.”
He nods his head a single time, beckoning you to continue. “What is it?”
You give him a wry smile. “My publicist never gave me the idea for that publicity stunt.”
“…I figured that much, sweetie.”
note. bodyguard! sylus, my glorious king… ok i lowkey hate this but it holds no purpose saving up space in my drafts so :D pls interact if you enjoyed, rbs are greatly appreciated <3 thank you for readingggg !!!
new note: a part 2 of this fic is in the works! if you want to be tagged, comment or send me an ask ♥︎
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request
#♥︎ tojicide#sylus x y/n#sylus x you#sylus qin#l&ds sylus#lnds sylus#sylus smut#sylus x reader#love and deepspace sylus#lads sylus#sylus#love and deepspace#love & deepsace x reader#love & deepspace#lnds smut#lnds#lnds x reader#au
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Baby Girl Norris
Lando Norris x pediatrician!Reader
Summary: you know what you have to do — track down a world-famous Formula 1 driver, tell him about his newborn daughter, and maybe, if he’s willing, help him navigate single fatherhood — falling in love with their little family was not part of the plan … but doing so changes all your lives for the better
You take a deep breath as you enter the nursery, steeling yourself for the task ahead. As a pediatrician at the Princess Grace Hospital in Monaco, you’ve cared for thousands of babies over the years. But this case is different.
Baby Girl Norris, born just two hours ago, is now legally parentless after her mother signed away all parental rights. Hospital protocol demands you track down and notify the father before assuming guardianship. Easier said than done when the father is Formula 1 superstar Lando Norris.
Approaching the clear bassinet, you gaze down at the sleeping newborn. Wispy dark hair peeks out from under her pink cap. Ten tiny fingers curled into fists. She has no idea how complicated her life is about to become.
You flip through the chart again, verifying the details. Mother is French, here on a student visa. Refused to even look at the baby after a 27-hour labor, immediately signing away rights. Father listed as one Lando Norris of the United Kingdom.
You sigh, picking up the phone to dial the number listed. It rings five times before disconnecting. You try the landline for his Monaco residence with the same result. Probably outdated.
Time for plan B. You search the McLaren Racing website until you find a generic service line. Heart pounding, you dial.
“McLaren Technology Centre, this is Marie speaking.”
You take a breath. “Hello, I apologize for the strange request, but I need to reach Lando Norris as soon as possible. It’s … it’s regarding a private family matter.”
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Norris does not accept unsolicited communications. Have a nice-”
“Wait!” You interject. “Please, I am calling from Princess Grace Hospital in Monaco. We have a newborn baby girl here, and we believe Mr. Norris may be the father.”
Marie hesitates. “Hold please, I’ll transfer you.”
Your pulse quickens. This may actually work! But your hopes are quickly dashed.
“This is Andrew from McLaren Racing public relations. May I ask who I’m speaking with?” His tone is suspicious.
You explain again about the baby, her mother, and the situation.
Andrew sighs loudly. “I’m sure you understand we get calls like this constantly. Lando isn’t even in the hemisphere right now. I’m afraid we can’t help you.”
“No, wait, please!” But the line goes dead.
You frown, gears turning. The team must think you’re some obsessed fan or scammer. You’ll have to get creative.
Over the next two days, you call every related number you can find. Each time you’re met with more resistance. They must have flagged your information as a nuisance caller.
On the third day, you’re signing charts at the nurse’s station when a colleague walks by. “Did you hear? Lando Norris is coming to take a tour of the hospital next week. Some charity thing.”
Your eyes widen. This is it — your chance to intercept him in person!
You spend the next few days obsessing over what to say, how to convince him. Baby Girl Norris needs her father.
The big day arrives. Heart hammering, you lurk near the lobby, peering around the hallway corner as Lando walks in flanked by handlers. He looks exhausted but flashes his winning smile at the staff welcoming him.
You watch them start down the opposite hallway for the tour when you make your move. Rushing forward, you plant yourself firmly in his path.
“Mr. Norris! Sorry, I need just a minute of your time, it’s urgent-”
A member of his team immediately swoops in, pushing you back. “Ma’am, please. We kindly ask that you step aside.”
“No, wait!” You raise your voice over them. “Mr. Norris, my name is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. I’m a pediatrician here. I’ve been trying to reach you for days now regarding your newborn daughter!”
The team looks exasperated, but Lando holds up a hand. “It’s okay, let her speak.” His eyes bore into yours warily.
You take a breath. “I know this sounds insane. But a baby girl was born here last week to a French student named Celeste Dubois. On the birth certificate, she named you as the father before signing away parental rights.”
You continue explaining the situation rapidly, watching Lando’s eyes widen in shock.
One of his handlers steps in. “You honestly expect us to believe this wild story? We’re on a timeline.” He tries to tug Lando along.
“No, it’s okay.” Lando stands firm, studying you intently. “What proof do you have of any of this?”
You hold his gaze. “I can show you the birth certificate, but a DNA test would confirm if you’re the father. It’s hospital policy to notify and provide the father an opportunity to assume custody.”
Lando chews his lip nervously. His team murmurs among themselves.
After a long pause, he speaks. “Even if this is some scam or mix-up, that poor child deserves to have answers. Please, lead the way for a test.”
You breathe a sigh of relief. Wordlessly, you turn and lead Lando to the lab. His team protests but he insists on following through.
In the lab, you supervise as the technician takes a simple cheek swab. “24 to 48 hours for results,” she confirms.
Lando nods, looking dazed. “Right. Okay. If she’s really mine, I want to step up. Just call me, yeah?” He extends his number on a slip of paper.
You smile and promise to be in touch. As he turns to leave, you feel swarmed with emotions. One major hurdle down, but nothing certain yet.
The next 48 hours pass at a snail’s pace. When the lab calls, your fingers shake as you unfold the results. Positive. A 99.99% match.
You pass along the news and arrange a meeting at the hospital. The press can’t know about this yet.
Approaching the secluded waiting room, you pause to observe Lando through the window. He paces nervously, running his hands through his hair again and again. His usual polished veneer is gone, replaced by a young man anxiously awaiting life-changing news. Your heart goes out to him.
Finally knocking, he whirls around as you enter. “Well? Is she really mine?”
You nod, holding out the results. He accepts them with unsteady hands.
“I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” he says quietly. “This is just ... a lot.”
“I understand. It’s a complicated situation. But you’re here now.” You offer an encouraging smile.
Lando takes a deep breath. “Can I meet her?”
You lead him to the nursery viewing room. He presses against the glass, eyes scanning until they settle on bassinet D7. His brows knit together.
“That’s her?” His voice wavers slightly.
You nod. “Would you like to go inside and hold her?”
He hesitates. “I don’t want to confuse or upset her.”
You gesture reassuringly. “Newborns seek warmth and a gentle touch. She’ll appreciate the contact.”
Looking uncertain, Lando follows you into the nursery. You lift the swaddled baby, carefully transferring her into Lando’s awkward embrace. He peers down at her, his expression unreadable.
“She’s so tiny ...” he murmurs. The newborn girl yawns, eyes still shut, snuggling instinctively into his chest.
Lando’s guarded facade finally cracks, eyes glistening. He adjusts his arms to cradle her more securely.
“Hi there,” he whispers. “I’m your ...” He trails off, not quite able to say it.
You touch his shoulder gently. “You’re her father. And she needs you.”
He nods, never breaking his gaze from the newborn’s face. “I’ll do right by her, I promise. Whatever it takes.”
Relief sweeps over you. While an arduous legal process awaits, this sweet child will finally have a real family.
As Lando rocks the baby gently, he suddenly laughs. “She’s a real beauty, isn’t she? Look at that hair. Thick and curly, just like her old man.”
You chuckle. “It appears so. Have you thought about a name?”
He hums contemplatively. “I’ve always been partial to Georgia. Gigi for short.”
“Georgia Norris,” you say with a smile. “It’s perfect.”
The new father beams down at his daughter. “Welcome to the world, little Gigi. I can’t wait to take you home.”
As you observe this tender moment, your heart swells for both father and daughter. With someone as loving and dedicated as Lando by her side, Gigi’s future looks bright indeed.
Watching them meet for the first time — seeing a family begin to blossom out of hardship and uncertainty — is the greatest reward of your job. As you quietly slip out to give them space, you can’t hold back a smile. Everything, after all, is turning out exactly as it should.
***
After spending over an hour bonding with his newborn daughter in the nursery, Lando reluctantly hands her back to the nurse for feeding time. He turns to you, smiling but still looking dazed.
“I can’t thank you enough, Y/N. Really. You’ve given me and Gigi a new start.”
You touch his arm warmly. “Of course. I’m so glad I could help connect you two. She’s absolutely beautiful.”
Lando grins proudly. “She really is perfect. I already love her so much, it’s mad. I just ...” His face falls slightly. “I don’t have the first clue how to actually take care of a baby. Let alone with my job, traveling all the time for races and training. What have I gotten myself into?”
He runs an anxious hand through his curls. Your heart goes out to him.
“Hey, it’s okay.” You gesture for him to follow you out to the waiting room for privacy.
Lando collapses onto the sofa, head in hands. “Sorry, I’m just now fully realizing what this means. A baby, she’s completely dependent on me! I don’t know the first thing about babies. I’m barely an adult myself!”
You sit beside him. “Lando, look at me.” He lifts his head reluctantly. You offer an encouraging smile.
“It’s normal to feel overwhelmed. But you stepped up when Gigi needed you most. That’s what matters. With some guidance, you’ll be an amazing father.”
He doesn’t look convinced. You continue gently, “Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll give you all the essential information for first-time parents. I’ll even set you up with parenting classes, and we have a support group-”
Lando groans loudly, letting his head fall back. You suppress a chuckle.
“Okay, forget classes for now. Just focus on learning the basics. Things like feeding, changing, bathing. Infant CPR. I’ll give you my cell to text with questions anytime. Day or night.”
You jot down your number and hand it to him. He nods, looking slightly encouraged.
“We’ll also get you connected with services that can assist first-time parents with supplies, nutrition consultants, and childcare options.”
His eyes widen again. “God, I haven’t even told my family yet! Or bought anything she’ll need!” He scrubs at his face anxiously.
You lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Breathe. Setbacks are expected. But you’ll get there.”
Lando takes a deep breath, regaining some composure. “You’re right. Sorry for the meltdown. I really appreciate you talking me down.”
“Don’t apologize. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t at all anxious about this huge life change.”
You smile warmly. “But you accepted your daughter unconditionally when it mattered most. Not every man in your position would do that. I know you’ll figure the rest out over time. It’s a process.”
He nods, starting to calm down. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. We’ll take it step by step.”
You spend the next hour walking Lando through all the basics — safe sleep, feeding schedules, hygiene, developmental milestones, and pediatrician visits. He takes vigorous notes on his phone, determination returning to his face.
“Clothes, blankets, nappies, bottles ...” He mumbles to himself as he types. “Maybe pick up a parenting book or two as well ...”
You grin, happy to see him growing more at ease and optimistic. When the nurse returns with a sleeping Gigi, Lando immediately takes her back into his arms.
“We’ve got this, little one,” he whispers to her. “I’ll give you the absolute best in life … starting with a nice new flat for us here in Monaco.” He looks back at you questioningly.
You nod in approval. “Giving Gigi a stable home should be your top priority.”
He smiles down at the baby, gently stroking her cheek. “Daddy will take good care of you. I promise.”
Your heart swells at the natural bond already forming between father and daughter. In this moment, any lingering doubts fade away. However difficult the road ahead, together they’ll be just fine.
After another hour visiting together, it’s time for Lando to head out. He’s clearly still anxious but also radiating love when he gazes at Gigi.
“Thank you again for everything,” he says sincerely, shaking your hand. “I’ll call my parents when I get home. Figure out how to break the news and beg for their help.”
He chuckles and you join in. “Don’t hesitate to text me anytime. About anything.”
Lando glances down at your scrawled cell number, then back up with a crooked grin. “Careful or I might take you up on the anything part.”
You blush slightly, waving him off. “Get out of here, you charmer. Go buy a crib and get some rest. Your life is about to get very busy.”
With a laugh, Lando walks backwards toward the exit, pointing finger guns at you. “Yes ma’am, Dr. Y/L/N. Catch you later.”
You stand shaking your head as he disappears from view. What an interesting patient case this has turned out to be.
Over the next several weeks, you and Lando text constantly. He sends cute videos and photos of Gigi along with his near-constant questions about her care. You don’t mind at all — you’re happy to guide him through this life transition.
True to his word, he quickly finds and furnishes a family-friendly luxury apartment in Monaco. He introduces Gigi to his stunned but excited parents via video call. He adjusts his training schedule to maximize time with her.
When his race travel resumes, he arranges for his parents or a local nanny to assist with Gigi full-time. Still, being apart takes an obvious toll on him.
The day before he’s set to fly to Australia for the first race of the season, Lando texts you a selfie looking forlorn, with Gigi snoozing on his chest.
Can you believe she’s already a month old? I don’t want to leave her!
You grin down at the photo. Gigi’s little rosebud lips are slightly parted as she sleeps. Lando’s staring at her adoringly despite the bags under his eyes.
I know it’s hard being away from her. But Gigi knows she has a father who loves her so much. Focus on making her proud out there!
You always know just what to say, doc. I’ll text you after the race!
You smile softly as you set down your phone. Over the past weeks, you’ve found yourself looking forward to Lando’s frequent messages and photos. He’s relieved when you reassure him he’s doing a great job as a new dad. And seeing Gigi thrive and grow under his doting care makes your heart fuller.
Professionally, your work is done now that Gigi and Lando are connected. But you can’t help feeling personally invested in this little family you helped create. You make a silent vow to always be there for them both, as long as they need you.
***
Weeks later, you’re jolted awake by your ringing cellphone. Bleary-eyed, you check the time: 2:37 am. Who could be calling at this hour?
You don’t recognize the number on your buzzing phone. But you answer anyway, just in case it’s an emergency.
“Hello?” You mumble into the phone.
“Y/N? Oh thank god!” The panicked voice on the other end makes you sit bolt upright.
Lando.
“Lando? What’s wrong?” Worry floods your system, instantly washing away any grogginess.
“It’s Georgia,” he cries. “She woke up crying and felt so hot. I took her temperature — it’s 39 degrees! I think she has a fever?”
You’re already throwing off your blankets, phone tucked against your shoulder. “Okay, stay calm. How is she acting otherwise?”
“She’s crying and really fussy. Won’t take her bottle. I don’t know what to do!” Lando sounds near tears himself.
“Shhh, deep breath,” you soothe. “Fever in babies this young is serious. You need to take her to emergency department right away.”
“Right, emergency, of course-” Lando rambles nervously.
“I’ll meet you there ASAP. Princess Grace Hospital, yes?”
“Yes, please hurry!” He ends the call abruptly. You scramble for clothes with adrenaline pounding.
In under ten minutes, you’re peeling out of your driveway towards the hospital. Even at this hour, Monaco’s streets remain congested. You drum your fingers anxiously on the steering wheel, praying Georgia will be okay.
Once you’ve parked, you race inside the ED doors. Your eyes scan the crowded waiting room until you spot Lando pacing in the corner, Georgia whimpering against his shoulder.
You rush over. “Lando!”
He turns, relief washing over his features. “Y/N, you came. Thank you.”
“Of course.” You squeeze his arm comfortingly before looking Georgia over with practiced eyes. Her cheeks are flushed, eyelids fluttering as she whines. Definitely not well.
Lando bounces lightly, trying to soothe her. “They told me it’s at least an hour wait. She’s getting worse though.” His eyes glisten with tears.
Your protective instincts flare, seeing them both so distraught. Striding to the check-in desk, you put on your most authoritative voice.
“Excuse me, I’m Dr. Y/L/N. I have an infant patient here who needs immediate evaluation.”
The nurse scans the packed waiting room. “I’m so sorry doctor, we’re doing our best. If you could just wait-”
You interrupt firmly. “This is a seven week old with a spiking fever. She requires urgent triage and treatment, not a waiting room. I must insist we be seen next.”
The nurse purses her lips, but can’t really argue with your reasoning. “Of course. I’ll let the charge nurse know to get you back immediately.”
You nod curtly before returning to Lando, who looks awed. “Blimey, remind me not to get on your bad side.”
The hint of a smile on his lips relieves you. Georgia’s still fussy as you both follow a nurse back moments later.
In an exam room, you help transfer the baby from Lando’s arms to the table. Her pitiful crying tugs at your heart.
Lando hovers anxiously as you take Georgia’s vitals and change her into a hospital gown. 39.1°C — higher than the concerning range for an infant. You frown in worry. Poor little love.
Soon the attending pediatrician arrives to assess her. You explain the situation from Lando’s frantic call to racing over. The doctor asks questions while examining Georgia’s ears, throat, and reflexes. Lando clutches your hand tightly the entire time.
After what feels like an eternity, the pediatrician steps back. “Given the fever with no apparent source, I’m concerned this could be a serious bacterial infection. We’ll run labs to check for things like meningitis. Start IV antibiotics and paracetamol to bring her fever down quickly.”
Lando pales, swaying slightly at the onslaught of medical terms. You slip an arm around him supportively.
“You’re saying she might have meningitis?” Lando chokes out.
The doctor holds up his hands. “It’s just one possibility. We’re not sure yet. The labs will tell us more.”
Lando buries his face in his hands. Your heart breaks seeing his shoulders shaking.
After the doctor departs to order tests, you guide Lando to sit down, keeping an arm around him. “Hey, try to breathe. Georgia needs her daddy calm and strong right now.”
Lando drags a hand over his wet eyes. “God, I’m trying. But she’s so little and sick. What if … what if it’s something serious?” His voice breaks again.
You turn him gently to face you, hands on his shoulders. “Listen to me. Whatever is going on, we will figure it out, okay? I’m right here with you both.”
He searches your face before nodding unsteadily. You draw him into a fierce hug.
“We’ve got this,” you whisper.
A nurse entering startles you apart. “Alright, time for labs.”
You both watch anxiously as she collects blood and other samples from a deeply unhappy Georgia. Her shrieking cries at the poking and prodding are harrowing. Lando has gone deathly pale.
Once finished, the nurse situates an IV line in Georgia’s tiny hand, securing it with tape and popping a pacifier in her mouth. Her eyelids droop, cries fading to soft whimpers as medication starts flowing.
You glance at Lando. “Why don’t you hold her again? Skin to skin contact will help soothe you both.”
Looking relieved by the suggestion, Lando strips off his shirt and takes Georgia, nestling her against his bare chest. You drape a blanket over them before rubbing his back comfortingly.
Georgia’s fussing settles as her father hums softly, eyes never leaving her face. The pure love between them makes your throat tighten.
Despite the uncertainty ahead, you know Georgia couldn’t be in better hands. And you silently vow to remain steadfast by their side, for whatever comes next.
Eventually Georgia drifts to sleep. The pediatrician returns shortly after with test results. “Good news. All the cultures are negative so far. With the antibiotics and paracetamol, her fever is already decreasing.”
You and Lando both sigh in relief.
“So no meningitis?” Lando asks hopefully.
The doctor shakes his head. “Doesn’t appear to be. We’ll repeat testing tomorrow, but likely just a minor bacterial infection. She’ll need to stay a few days for monitoring and fluids.”
Lando clutches Georgia closer. “Anything she needs. Thank you, doctor.”
Once you’re alone again, Lando gazes down at his sleeping daughter. “I was so scared,” he admits softly.
You nod, squeezing his shoulder. “I know. But she’s getting great care now. Try and rest — it’s been a long night.”
Lando glances at the empty cot along the wall. “Stay? Please? I … I don’t want to be alone right now.” His voice sounds so small and vulnerable.
Your chest tightens. “Of course.”
You help shift Lando and Georgia onto the little bed. She stirs slightly as you both get settled on either side of her.
Lando strokes Georgia’s cheek tenderly. “My brave girl. You’re going to be just fine.” Glancing up, his eyes meet yours. “Thank you, Y/N. For everything.”
You offer a tired smile, taking his hand. “That’s what I’m here for. Get some sleep.”
Exhaustion quickly pulls you under. But Lando’s hand remains wrapped firmly in yours until morning.
A strong bond has formed between the three of you. And you know that whatever the future brings, you’ll be facing it together.
***
A few weeks after the scare, you’re finishing paperwork at your desk when your cell rings. Lando’s name pops up, making you smile.
Since the hospitalization, you and Lando have fallen into a routine of near daily calls and texts about Georgia. You don’t mind at all — you adore hearing the latest antics and milestones of your special little patient. Not to mention Lando’s voice tends to brighten your day.
You answer warmly. “Lando! How are my favorite patients today?”
He chuckles. “Well, Georgia just mastered holding her head up while on her tummy. She’s getting so strong! But uh, that’s actually why I’m calling ...”
You detect the hesitancy in his tone. “What’s up?”
Lando sighs. “So McLaren just sprung a mandatory sponsorship meeting on me last minute. It’s in like an hour. I don’t have any childcare lined up though.”
You frown sympathetically. The demands of Lando’s career often collide with new parenthood. “Oh no. Can you reschedule or bring Georgia with you?”
“I tried, but it’s impossible to postpone. And definitely not an ideal environment for a baby,” he laments. “I don’t have any family nearby and my usual nanny said it’s too short notice.”
Your thoughts race, heart sinking at imagining his distress. “Hmm. Well, do you happen to have any trusted neighbors or friends there who could babysit?”
Lando makes a frustrated noise. “I’ve barely met my neighbors. And my mates, well, most are even less qualified than me for childcare. I’m stuck.” Defeat colors his tone.
You bite your lip, hesitating only a moment before saying gently, “Lando, I could come watch her.”
“What? Really?” He sounds stunned. “But isn’t it your day off?”
“It’s no problem, truly,” you insist. “I don’t live far. Be there in fifteen?”
“I-I don’t know what to say. You’re a lifesaver, Y/N. Thank you, thank you!” Lando gushes gratefully.
You smile, already grabbing your keys. “Anytime. See you soon!”
On the drive over, butterflies flutter in your stomach. You adore Georgia, of course. But something about visiting Lando’s home, being fully immersed in his world, feels monumentally intimate.
Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself that your priority is helping a friend in need.
You park outside Lando’s sleek modern condo building and take the elevator up after checking in with the concierge. Before you can even knock, the front door swings open.
“Y/N, thank god,” Lando sighs in relief. He looks unfairly attractive despite being slightly disheveled in a dress shirt and slacks. “Please, come in.”
Stepping inside the open concept condo, your eyes sweep over minimalist furniture and racing memorabilia decorating the shelves. Cozy baby items like a playmat and bouncer provide stark contrast. It’s uniquely Lando.
“Nice place,” you remark sincerely.
“Thanks. Still feels empty sometimes, but slowly making it a home for Gigi.” He smiles softly. “Speaking of which ...”
You follow Lando down a short hallway to the nursery. Your heart melts at the sight of Georgia kicking on a playmat, wearing a pink romper with a giant bow.
Lando swoops her up, blowing raspberries on her cheek. “Daddy’s got a big important meeting, princess. But Y/N is going to play with you instead.”
He passes the baby over. Georgia gives you a gummy smile, cooing.
“There’s my sweet girl.” You tickle her belly, eliciting a giggle. Lando beams proudly.
“Alright, her bottle is prepped in the fridge, and there’s clean nappies on the change table. Call if you need anything at all.”
Lando leans down to kiss Georgia’s head. “Be good for Y/N, monkey.”
With a final grateful smile your way, he heads out. You settle on the nursery floor with Georgia. “What adventures shall we have today, miss?”
The next few hours pass in a blur of playing, feeding, changing, and rocking little Georgia. You even manage a nap time by singing softly, something that always seemed to soothe her in the hospital.
Watching her sleep, you feel a rush of tenderness for the tiny being who has depended on you since her first moments. You vow to always be there when Lando and Georgia need you.
Soon enough, Lando returns home looking drained. But his whole face lights up seeing you and Georgia on the floor.
“How’d it go?” He asks, crouching down to tickle her toes.
“Perfect. We had lots of fun, isn’t that right, lovebug?” You hand the baby over for cuddles.
“Daddy missed you.” Lando nuzzles Georgia, before giving you a grateful smile. “I can’t thank you enough. Truly. You’re a natural with her.”
You wave off his praise, but can’t deny the warm spark his words ignite.
After chatting a bit more about Georgia’s afternoon and Lando’s meeting, it’s time for you to head out.
At the door, Lando halts you with a gentle hand on your wrist.
“Hey, let me take you to dinner this week — a proper thank you,” he entreats. “Anywhere you like.”
Your pulse quickens. It sounds suspiciously close to a date. But Lando’s smiling hopefully, and you find yourself nodding before overthinking it.
“I’d love that.”
Lando grins, looking both relieved and excited. “Brilliant! I’ll text you details. Have a safe drive home.”
Strapping into your car, your thoughts race wildly. This man and his daughter have captured your heart. What started as a professional duty has grown into so much more.
As you drive away, Lando and Georgia waving from the window, you can’t keep the giddy smile off your face.
Your lives are intertwining in the most marvelous ways. And you can’t wait to see what adventures are in store next.
***
The following Saturday evening, you stand in front of the mirror, fussing with your hair and makeup. Glancing at the clock, you feel butterflies swarming. Lando will arrive any minute to pick you up for dinner.
You smooth non-existent wrinkles from your knee-length black dress. It’s daringly low cut for you, but you want to feel beautiful tonight.
A buzz from your phone makes you jolt. Lando is here! Taking a deep breath, you grab your purse and hurry downstairs.
Stepping outside your apartment building, you freeze in awe. Gleaming in the golden hour sunlight is a sleek dark blue vintage supercar unlike any other you’ve seen before.
The driver door opens, and Lando steps out looking devastatingly handsome in a tailored suit. He beams. “Wow, Y/N. You look absolutely stunning.”
You blush at the sincerity in his warm gaze. “Thank you. This is … quite the car!”
Lando grins, patting the hood affectionately. “She’s my baby — a Lamborghini Miura. Isn’t she a beauty?”
You take in the aerodynamic lines and what you can only assume is a very powerful engine. “Gorgeous. And probably costs more than my yearly income.”
Lando laughs. “But she’s perfect for impressing a lovely date.” He winks before opening the passenger door for you.
You carefully climb in, hyper aware of the tiny black dress riding up your thighs. Lando’s eyes trace your legs appreciatively as you smooth your skirt.
Soon you’re zipping through the seaside city, wind whipping your hair through the open windows. Lando navigates the roads expertly.
He glances your way. “Hope this is alright! Wanted to take the fun car out while the weather holds up.”
You grin at him. “Are you kidding? I feel like a movie star!”
He looks delighted, picking up speed as you both relax into the ride.
Before long, you pull up at the legendary Hotel de Paris Monte-Carlo. A uniformed valet opens your door. Taking the proffered hand, you step out feeling like a princess.
Lando offers his arm. “Shall we?”
Inside the opulent restaurant, you’re quickly shown to an intimate table beside a window overlooking the glittering Mediterranean sea. Soft piano music fills the space.
“Lando, this is incredible,” you breathe, taking it all in.
He smiles, eyes never leaving your face. “Only the best for you.”
You blush again at his sincerity. A waiter appears to take your drink order. When you request just water, Lando insists you pick any wine on the menu.
You settle on a creamy chardonnay that pairs perfectly with your scallops and Lando’s steak. Thoughtful touches like him pulling out your chair or refilling your wine glass make the lavish meal all the more special.
The conversation flows effortlessly from racing to traveling to favourite films and music. More than once, Lando’s foot brushes yours beneath the table, sending sparks skittering across your skin.
After dessert, you both linger over coffee, hands unconsciously joined on the pristine tablecloth between you. The connection humming between you feels profound.
When Lando finally checks his watch with a reluctant sigh, you’re surprised to see you’ve been there for over three hours. It felt like mere minutes.
On the drive back, you steal glances at his sharp profile in the fading light. Joy bubbles inside you. The evening exceeded your wildest expectations.
Too soon, you’re pulling up outside your building. Lando hurries around to open your door, ever the gentleman. Clasping his hand, you step out onto the curb together.
Turning, you find him watching you closely. “I had the most wonderful time tonight,” you say sincerely.
Lando’s face breaks into a grin. “Truly magical. Thank you for coming, Y/N.” He squeezes your hand, thumb tracing delicate circles.
On impulse, you lean up and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Lando.”
With a final squeeze of his hand, you turn and walk inside, casting a coy look back to see him touching his cheek in wonder.
Safely in your apartment, you kick off your heels, collapsing onto the sofa with a giddy smile. The evening played in your mind like a movie — the fancy car, exquisite dinner, effortless conversation. And that powerful connection with Lando blossoming into something new and tender.
What started as a professional relationship has organically grown into a deep friendship over your shared love of little Georgia. But tonight awoke a yearning for more. You sensed the same from Lando in the way he looked at you — with affection, wonder, and desire.
You drift off on the couch still reliving each vivid moment. This feels like the start of something life changing.
Meanwhile, Lando remains fixed outside your building, fingers brushing the spot your lips graced. The soft press seared an imprint deep within him.
People had warned him pursuing anything romantic with Georgia’s physician was unwise. But from the instant he saw you holding his fragile newborn girl, instinct told him you were special. That only grew each day as your compassion and devotion soothed his frightened heart.
Tonight confirmed what he felt blooming for weeks now — he’s completely enchanted by you.
With your laughter still echoing in his mind, Lando finally drives off into the night. He knows his future, wherever it leads, must have you and Georgia in it. He’s falling, fast and hard.
And for once, recklessly chasing his heart feels entirely right. He just hopes you’ll take this leap with him.
***
On a sunny afternoon, you’re sitting cross-legged on Lando’s living room rug playing with Georgia. At nearly four months old now, she’s mastered rolling over and absolutely loves tummy time.
You grin as she determinedly pushes up on her hands, rocking back and forth. “That’s it, clever girl! You’ve almost got it.”
Georgia gives you a gummy smile before toppling over with a huff. Behind you, Lando chuckles from the couch where he’s on hold with a takeaway place.
“I swear she gets more stubborn every day. Definitely takes after me,” he remarks fondly.
You smile. “She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to work for it. Sound familiar?”
Lando laughs. “Too right. At this rate, she’ll be racing cars herself soon.”
You’re about to respond when the sound of the front door opening makes you both freeze. Before you can react, an accented female voice calls out excitedly.
“Lando, darling! Surprise, we’ve come to visit!”
Lando flies off the couch just as his parents round the corner. “Mum! Dad! What are you doing here?”
He embraces them both tightly while you hover awkwardly behind Georgia. What must Lando’s family think finding a strange woman playing with their grandchild?
But before you can open your mouth to explain, Lando’s mum spots you. Her face lights up. “Y/N! How wonderful to finally meet you in person!”
To your shock, she swoops down and hugs you like a long lost relative. Bewildered, you return the embrace.
Over her shoulder, Lando rubs his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, I may have told them a fair bit about you and Gigi ...”
His father approaches next, politely shaking your hand. “Lando speaks very highly of you, Y/N. Thank you for taking such good care of our boy and the little one.”
“Oh, um, of course!” You manage to stammer out. Lando mentioned you to his parents? The thought makes your heart flutter wildly.
Before you can dwell on it, Georgia lets out an impatient shriek from her abandoned tummy time.
Cisca gasps, immediately scooping her up. “Oh my goodness, look how big you’ve gotten, baby girl!” She tickles Georgia’s belly, eliciting sweet giggles.
Lando smiles softly at the sight. You feel privileged to witness this intimate family moment.
Soon you’re all seated around the living room, chatting comfortably. Adam keeps throwing not-so-subtle winks Lando’s way whenever you and Cisca fawn over Georgia together. Lando just shakes his head, cheeks slightly flushed.
Later, his parents insist on taking you both out to dinner at a nice restaurant. Over the meal, you observe how Cisca’s animated mannerisms and Adam’s dry wit remind you so much of Lando. He clearly inherited the best of both.
Walking back to the car afterwards, Cisca links her arm through yours fondly. “I’m just thrilled Lando has you looking after him and little Georgia. It takes a very special woman to so selflessly love and support someone else’s child.”
You squeeze her arm, touched. “Well, they make it easy. I’d do anything for those two.”
Cisca pats your hand knowingly. “I can see that, dear. Don’t ever let my son take that for granted.”
Glancing ahead, you watch Lando swinging a sleepy Georgia in his arms, gazing down at her with pure adoration. Your heart clenches.
“I don’t think that’s possible. He’s the most devoted father imaginable,” you reply softly.
Cisca follows your gaze, smiling. “He is at that. Just like his own.”
Adam wraps an arm around his wife, kissing her temple. Cisca leans into him with a contented sigh. Their easy intimacy and abiding love is relationship goals.
You find yourself sneaking another peek at Lando, imagining strolling arm in arm like that one day. But it’s too soon for such daydreams.
Still, meeting his wonderful parents today, seeing how he talks about you … it feels like things are shifting into place.
That night, as Lando walks you to your car, he stops you with a hand on your wrist. “Thank you again for today. You were brilliant with my parents — they’re absolutely smitten.”
You grin. “They’re lovely. I see where you get it from.”
Lando rolls his eyes but smiles bashfully. An impulse has you leaning in to kiss his cheek.
“Goodnight, Lando.” With a little wave, you slip into your car before he can respond.
But the awestruck look on Lando’s face stays with you the whole drive home. Something big is on the horizon, you can feel it.
And if the way his family embraced you today is any indication, you have their full support too. You’ve never been more excited about what the future holds.
***
A few days later, you’re rushing around your apartment getting ready. Lando invited you over for dinner and a movie tonight while his parents watch Georgia. You’ve been looking forward to the rare child-free evening all week.
After debating outfit options, you decide on form fitting jeans and a silky camisole. Casual yet flirty. Dabbing on a bit of perfume, you check yourself in the mirror. You want to knock his socks off.
Precisely at six, your phone chimes with a text from Lando that he’s waiting outside. Taking a deep breath, you go meet him.
As expected, he looks effortlessly handsome leaning against his flashy car grinning at you. “Well don’t you look gorgeous tonight,” he remarks, opening your door.
You smirk, settling into the low seat. “Not looking too bad yourself, Mr. Norris.”
Lando just winks before speeding off into the golden hour sunlight. You chat easily throughout the short drive about your days apart. When you mention missing Georgia, Lando smiles softly.
“Me too, constantly. But she’s in great hands with my parents tonight.” Reaching over, he gives your hand an affectionate squeeze that makes your heart race.
Soon you pull up outside Lando’s sleek condo building. He leads you upstairs, fingers entwined.
Inside, mouthwatering aromas fill the air. You follow Lando to the kitchen where pots bubble away on the stove.
“I hope you’re hungry. My dad’s recipe for chicken curry.” Lando stirs one of the pots before glancing at you shyly. “I may have been practicing all week.”
You grin, touched that he went to such effort. “It smells incredible! I didn’t know you could cook.”
“Full of surprises.” Lando winks. “Now you just relax while I finish up.”
You perch at the kitchen island while Lando works. The domesticity of it all makes your chest feel warm. You could definitely get used to this.
Soon dinner is served along with a crisp white wine. You compliment Lando between bites, making him preen. Everything is delicious.
Over dessert, your feet become entangled beneath the small table. The simmering looks passing between you leave no doubt this is a date.
With dishes cleared, Lando leads you to the living room. “Now, the entertainment portion of the evening.” He gestures grandly towards the large TV.
You settle onto the plush grey sectional while Lando queues up your chosen rom-com. Before pressing play, he pauses.
“Do you maybe want to get more comfortable?” He gestures to the blanket and abundance of throw pillows nearby.
You smile, touched at how he’s trying to create a cozy movie watching environment. “That sounds perfect.”
Working together, you both strip down to t-shirts and lounge pants, then arrange the pillows and blankets into a comfy nest. Your heart races at the intimacy of it all.
Lando opens his arms for you to curl against his chest. You sigh, breathing in his comforting scent. His steady heartbeat thrums beneath your ear as the movie starts.
About halfway through, you glance up to see Lando staring down at you tenderly, movie forgotten. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, fingers trailing down to tilt your chin up. Eyes fluttering shut, you lean in as his lips meet yours in a soft, lingering kiss.
Everything around you fades away. The only sensation is Lando’s gentle lips moving with yours, laced with warmth and affection.
When you finally break apart, faces lingering close, he exhales shakily. “Wow. That was ...”
“Perfect,” you whisper, caressing his stubbled cheek. Lando nuzzles into your touch.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” he admits with a crooked smile.
You grin. “What took you so long?”
Lando laughs, pulling you closer again. Your lips find their way back together naturally. With your legs entwined and his hand trailing up and down your back, you lose all track of time and space.
Eventually you pull back just to catch your breath, lips pleasantly swollen. Lando strokes your hair tenderly.
“Y/N, you must know by now how truly special you are to me. From the moment we met, I felt fate bringing us together. And I never want to let you go.” His eyes search yours intently.
Your pulse quickens. “Lando ...”
“What I’m trying to say is ...” He takes a deep breath. “Will you be my girlfriend? Officially?”
Joy erupts inside you as you throw your arms around his neck. “Yes, I’d love nothing more!”
Lando’s delighted laughter vibrates against you as he squeezes you tight. You stay locked in an embrace, trading giddy kisses until sleepiness inevitably sets in.
Lando carries you to bed, tucking you both under the covers with your head pillowed on his chest. You drift off smiling, his steady heartbeat your lullaby.
Waking wrapped in Lando’s arms the next morning feels like pure bliss. He stirs, blinking awake to see you watching him fondly.
“Morning, beautiful.” Lando caresses your cheek before capturing your lips in a tender good morning kiss.
You hum contentedly. “I could get very used to this.”
“Well luckily, you’re my girlfriend now. So you’re stuck with me.” He grins playfully.
You snuggle impossibly closer. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”
***
On a sunny spring morning, you’re in Lando’s kitchen pureeing some bananas for Georgia’s breakfast. At nearly one year old now, she’s mastered eating soft finger foods.
Lando wanders in with Georgia propped on his hip, her dark curls tied up in adorable pigtails. “Someone’s ready for her breakfast!”
You grin, smoothing Georgia’s hair back to kiss her chubby cheek. “Morning, my darling! Got your bananas all ready.”
Lando settles Georgia into her high chair, handing you her baby spoon shaped like a rabbit. “Not sure who’s more excited about mealtimes now, her or me,” he jokes.
You laugh. “Gotta get our girl fed so she has energy to get into everything!”
Georgia bangs her hands impatiently on the tray until you scoop up a spoonful of bananas. “Alright, here comes the Formula 1 car!”
You zoom the spoon around playfully before popping it in her mouth. Georgia squeals in delight, kicking her little feet.
Lando leans against the counter smiling as you continue taking turns feeding her. When the last bites are finished, he grabs a washcloth to wipe Georgia’s sticky face and hands.
“Who’s my big girl eating like such a pro?” He coos, tickling her belly. Georgia dissolves into adorable giggles.
Setting the washcloth down, Lando brushes a stray banana strand from her hair. “You’re the sweetest, most beautiful girl in the whole world. Yes you are!”
Georgia beams up at him, waving her hands excitedly. Then clear as day, she exclaims “Mama!”
You freeze in shock. Did she just ...
Lando’s eyes fly to yours, equally stunned. An awkward tension instantly permeates the room.
“I-I never encouraged that, I swear,” Lando rushes to explain, panicked. “I always call you by name when I talk about you to her.”
“No no, of course, I didn’t think-” You halt, flustered. “I would never try to make her call me ...” You can’t even say it, heart pounding wildly.
A heavy silence falls. You avert your eyes, anxiously twisting the washcloth between your hands.
Lando scrubs a hand down his face. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know why she ...” He trails off helplessly.
After a long pause, Lando touches your arm gently. “Hey, look at me?”
You reluctantly meet his earnest gaze. Lando takes your hands in his, tone serious.
“Y/N, you must know how much I respect your role in Georgia’s life. We’re partners in this, fully. I would never try to force a maternal label on you.”
His obvious sincerity makes you instantly relax. Offering a small smile, you squeeze his hands.
“Of course. I didn’t think that. It just took me by surprise is all.” You take a deep breath before continuing hesitantly.
“But, well … the idea of Georgia seeing me that way doesn’t scare me. Not if it happens naturally.” You chance a glance at Lando through your lashes.
His eyes soften. “Truly?” At your shy nod, a smile spreads across his face.
“Because, well, I was thinking the same.” Lando cradles your face between his palms. “You already are a mum to her in every way that matters.”
You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Joy and relief flood your system.
Georgia makes an impatient noise, breaking the tender spell. You both chuckle.
Lando lifts her from the chair into his arms. “Don’t worry princess, your mama isn’t going anywhere.”
Hearing those words from Lando sends your heart soaring. You join the cuddle, Georgia nestled happily between you.
“Our sweet girl,” Lando murmurs, meeting your gaze over her little head. The pure love reflected back at you erases any lingering doubts.
You place a soft kiss to Georgia’s curls, then lean up to capture Lando’s lips. The promise of your future together never felt stronger.
Many more milestones await, for Georgia and your relationship both. But you know without question that the bonds between you three will only continue growing deeper.
Of all the twists and turns on this journey, your little family is the sweetest gift of all.
***
The day of the Monaco Grand Prix dawns bright and clear. You finish braiding Georgia’s hair as she babbles happily. At 18 months old now, her vocabulary expands daily.
“There we go, pretty girl! All set to cheer on Daddy!”
Georgia grins. “Dada race!”
You smile, smoothing her dress. “That’s right, darling!”
A knock sounds right before Lando pokes his head into the nursery. “My two favorite girls about ready?”
Scooping up Georgia, you turn so he can admire her race day outfit. “Well don’t we look beautiful!” Lando tickles Georgia’s tummy before pulling you both into a hug.
“I can’t tell you how much it means to have you both here today,” he says softly.
You squeeze him tight. As a pediatrician, getting full weekends off for races proved nearly impossible. But for Monaco, you moved mountains.
“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you assure him. Lando’s responding smile warms your heart.
The energy at the track is electric. Georgia’s eyes widen taking in all the sights and sounds. You carry her through the paddock towards the McLaren garage, Lando greeting various people along the way.
Inside, Lando steals a quick kiss. “I better go get suited up. See you after?”
You nod, adjusting a squirmy Georgia on your hip. “We’ll be cheering the loudest!”
Lando changes into his race suit, then leads you both over to his car. Georgia is mesmerized, reaching a tiny hand towards the shiny machine.
“That’s right munchkin, this is what Daddy drives!” Lando points out key features, then grabs a helmet from a crew member.
“Want to try it on?” Not waiting for an answer, Lando gently fits the helmet over Georgia’s curls. She immediately shrieks in delight.
Laughing, Lando scoops her up, zooming her around like she’s driving. “Look at you, a future champion in the making!”
You snap some photos of the adorable scene until it’s time for Lando to go off with his performance coach. After one last kiss for both of you, he disappears into the controlled pre-race chaos.
An assistant escorts you to the McLaren hospitality suite overlooking the pit lane. The view of the gleaming harbor and yachts reminds you this race is unlike anywhere else.
As start time nears, you cuddle a restless Georgia close, pointing out Lando’s car lined up on the grid. “See? There’s Daddy! He’s about to go racing.” Her little brow furrows, not quite understanding.
When the lights go out, Georgia startles at the loud roar of engines. Rubbing her back soothingly, you keep your eyes glued to the screen as the cars hurtle towards the tight first corner bottleneck.
“Come on Lando,” you murmur under your breath. He emerges from the chaos in 4th position. Off to a promising start.
Over the next 90 minutes, you fluctuate between pure elation and anxiety as the race unfolds. A collision forces Lando to pit unexpectedly. Just as your heart rate settles, another car spins right in front of him, spraying debris across the track.
But Lando holds his nerve, keeping the car under control to cross the line in P3. You leap up, cheering loudly with Georgia.
Soon Lando emerges, hair damp from the obligatory champagne shower.
His race suit is unzipped to the waist as he sweeps you both into an exuberant hug. “You did so good,” you murmur into his neck. Pulling back, Lando caresses Georgia’s head where it rests heavily on your shoulder.
“Little one tuckered herself out cheering for Daddy, hmm?” He takes her gently as she nuzzles into his chest with a yawn.
“Let’s get my best girls home.” With Georgia cradled in one arm and the other around your waist, Lando leads you out of the paddock like a proud family man. Your heart feels fit to burst.
That night after Georgia is tucked into bed, you curl up together on the couch. The TV plays highlights of the race you lived firsthand.
Lando absently strokes your hair. “You know, the lads invited me out to celebrate tonight.”
You lift your head. “Oh really? You should go have fun!”
But Lando just smiles, pulling you closer. “And miss this? Not a chance.” He kisses you tenderly. “Partying in Monaco holds nothing on being with my two favorite people.”
You kiss him again, touched. However far Lando’s career takes him, you know his heart will remain right here with you and Georgia.
***
Summer finally arrives, bringing a short respite between races for Lando. Eager to make the most of it, you suggest visiting your hometown to introduce him and Georgia to your parents.
“They’d love to finally meet you both,” you say over breakfast one morning.
Lando smiles, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “That sounds brilliant, love. I can’t wait to see where you grew up.”
You grin excitedly. “It’s nothing glamorous like Monaco. But I have so many good memories there.”
With plans made, you set off early one sunny Saturday morning, boarding a flight with Georgia securely buckled into her carrier. She babbles happily for most of the flight, enchanted by the clouds and miniature landscape passing below. Lando keeps one hand firmly clasped in yours the entire time.
Late afternoon, you finally pull up outside the cozy house you grew up in. Taking a deep breath, you unbuckle a sleepy Georgia from her seat.
“We’re here, Gigi! Ready to meet Grandma and Grandpa?”
She rubs her eyes with a tiny fist, still drowsy. Lando comes around to lift her into his arms.
“Someone’s a bit tired from all the traveling, huh? Maybe a quick nap first?” He kisses Georgia’s fuzzy head as she snuggles into his shoulder.
You nod, smoothing down her rumpled sundress. Taking Lando’s free hand, you head up the front walk.
Before you can even knock, the front door swings open. Your mum stands beaming at the threshold.
“Y/N! Oh, let me see her!” She sweeps you into a tight hug before immediately cooing over a now awake Georgia. “What an absolute darling!”
You grin. “Mom, meet your granddaughter, Georgia.” Saying it out loud sends a little thrill through you.
Your mother gently strokes Georgia’s dark curls. “Look at all this beautiful hair! Those eyes are all her daddy though.” She smiles warmly at Lando.
“It’s lovely to finally meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Lando says politely, shaking her extended hand.
“Oh please, call me Y/M/N! Now come in, come in!” She ushers you both inside the familiar cozy house.
Your dad appears from his office to exchange hearty handshakes and hugs. Lando looks slightly overwhelmed by the enthusiastic welcome.
Sensing this, you squeeze his arm reassuringly. “Why don’t I put Georgia down for her nap? You guys chat.”
Lando shoots you a grateful smile. You disappear down the hall to your childhood bedroom, now converted to a cozy nursery space. Georgia is out like a light before you’ve even finished tucking her in.
Returning to the living room, you pause in the doorway, heart swelling at the scene. Lando sits between your parents on the sofa as they animatedly show him your baby photos. His eyes shine taking it all in. This is the sense of family he’s long craved.
Eventually Georgia wakes, cranky and clingy. You scoop her up, breathing in that sweet baby scent as you rub her back.
“I know, lots of new things happening today. But you’re being so brave.” Dropping a kiss to her curls, you return to the living room.
Your mother immediately reaches for Georgia, who goes willingly into her arms. “Come sit with Grandma, sweetheart.”
Settling on the couch between your parents again, Lando slips an arm around your shoulders. Georgia babbles happily from your mother’s lap.
The rest of the day passes comfortably as your parents dote on their new granddaughter. Watching your mom help Georgia toddle around the yard, your dad pushing her on the tree swing, Lando’s arm stays wrapped securely around you.
That night after Georgia is down, you find Lando out on the back porch gazing up at the stars. You join him on the steps, leaning your head on his shoulder.
“You okay?”
Lando looks down at you with a soft smile. “More than. Today was really special.”
He brushes a strand of hair from your face. “Seeing how your parents just immediately welcomed us into the family … it means everything. I never expected to find this.” His voice turns thick with emotion.
You lift your head to meet his sincere gaze, heart brimming over. No words needed, you convey it all in a tender kiss.
When you eventually pull apart, foreheads touching, Lando exhales shakily. “Being here with you and Gigi, it just feels so right. Like we were always meant to be a family.”
Joyful tears prick your eyes hearing him voice the same feeling living inside you. You cradle his face gently.
“We were, Lando. From that very first day in the hospital, I knew fate brought us together for a reason.”
Lando’s responding smile could outshine the moon and stars overhead. He kisses you again, soft and unhurried, arms encircling you on that familiar back porch.
***
Two years to the day after that fateful first meeting, you’re finishing rounds in the maternity ward when your supervisor requests you in her office. Brow furrowed, you make your way down the hall and knock lightly.
“Come in!”
You step inside to find her beaming behind her desk. “Y/N! Please, have a seat.”
Perplexed, you settle into the plush chair across from her. “Is everything okay?”
“Better than okay, I’d say.” She grins and slides an official document across the desk towards you. “Take a look at this.”
You scan the letter, eyes widening. It’s a notice of a 250,000 euro donation to the hospital’s maternity ward and nursery … made in your name.
“What? This must be a mistake, I didn’t ...” You trail off, completely baffled.
Your supervisor laughs. “Oh it’s quite real, I assure you. In fact, the donor himself insisted on being here today to celebrate.”
Before you can respond, a knock sounds. You turn to see Lando stroll in, right on cue, with a grinning Georgia perched on his hip.
“Lando!” You gasp. “Did you … is this from you?”
He smiles almost shyly, setting Georgia down so she can toddle over to you. “Wanted to do something meaningful to mark the anniversary of when we first met.”
You stand frozen in shock as Georgia crashes into your legs. Scooping her up, you turn back to Lando with tears in your eyes.
“This is too much, I … I don’t know what to say.” You glance between him and your equally emotional supervisor.
Lando moves closer, taking your hands in his. “Say you’ll come with me for a proper celebration? Just the three of us?” He brushes his thumbs over your knuckles, eyes twinkling.
Unable to form words, you simply nod. Lando’s face lights up with that smile that still makes your heart skip.
After signing some paperwork and hugging your supervisor profusely, you allow Lando to lead you out to the car, Georgia babbling happily between you. But instead of heading home, he drives to the glittering harbor front.
There, you gasp to see a magnificent yacht floating ready at the dock. A crew in crisp white uniforms wait nearby.
Lando grins at your stunned reaction. “Told you we’re celebrating in style today!”
The staff smiles warmly as you board, cooing over Georgia toddling around excitedly. She especially loves watching the foam trail behind the yacht as it pulls away from shore.
You stand wrapped in Lando’s arms, his chin resting on your shoulder. “I still can’t believe you did all this,” you murmur.
Lando presses a kiss to your temple. “You deserve it all and more, my love.”
You pass a blissful afternoon on the water, enjoying a gourmet lunch and each other’s company. Lando is attentive as ever, making sure you want for nothing.
As the sun dips low, a crew member approaches. “So sorry to interrupt, but we’ll be arriving shortly. Please follow me downstairs to prepare.”
You glance questioningly at Lando, but he just smiles and urges you to follow with Georgia. Down in your luxurious cabin, an elegant evening gown awaits on the bed alongside a tiny version for Georgia.
Your heart flutters wildly now. Lando is clearly planning something major. You help Georgia into her dress, your hands shaking slightly with anticipation.
A knock at the door announces the crew member has returned. “We’ve arrived back at port, whenever you’re ready.”
Back up top, Lando stands waiting in a sharp suit, holding a bouquet of roses. He looks devastatingly handsome.
Taking your hand, he leads you down the gangplank onto the dock where a car waits to whisk you away into the hills overlooking the sea. The sunset bathes everything in golden light.
When the car stops at a secluded lookout point, Lando helps you out then retrieves a sleepy Georgia. Hand in hand, you approach the cliff edge.
Down below, a massive light display flashes to life along the shoreline. You gasp as the glowing words become clear:
Y/N, will you marry me?
You clap a hand over your mouth, spinning to Lando with tears pooling in your eyes. He’s down on one knee, Georgia sitting next to him playing with flower petals.
“Two years ago, you came into our lives and changed everything,” Lando begins emotionally. “Your compassion and selflessness as a doctor saved my fragile new family.”
He takes a shaky breath. “But you gave me so much more than that. Your kindness, your beauty inside and out, your incredible love for me and Georgia … you’re my dream come true.”
Tears spill freely down your cheeks as Lando pulls out a glittering diamond ring. “So Y/N Y/L/N, nothing would make me happier than for you to officially become my family. Will you marry me?”
A joyful sob escapes you as you sink down, throwing your arms around him. “Yes, Lando, a million times yes!”
His relieved laughter vibrates against you. When you pull back, Lando takes your hand gently to slide the exquisite ring onto your finger. A perfect fit.
Georgia seems to sense the significance of the moment and toddles over to wrap her little arms around your legs. You lift her into a fierce hug between you.
“I love you both so very much,” you whisper emotionally. Lando’s responding smile outshines the luminous lights along the shore.
Cradling your faces in his hands, he seals his proposal with the sweetest kiss as the sunset fades to twilight.
You linger wrapped in Lando’s arms, Georgia nestled between you, as the first stars emerge overhead. Right here, surrounded by your little family, you’ve never felt happier or more at peace.
It’s extraordinary what two short years can bring — unexpected joy, profound purpose, and a love greater than you dared dream.
The brightest days are still ahead. But tonight, in this perfect moment, you know you’ve already found everything you’ll ever need.
***
The day of your wedding to Lando dawns bright and sunny — perfect weather for an outdoor ceremony overlooking the glittering Mediterranean sea.
Inside the bridal suite, your mother puts the final pins in your elegant updo while your bridesmaids fuss over the train of your lace gown.
A knock at the door announces your father’s arrival. When you turn to face him in your wedding finery, his eyes well up.
“Oh sweetheart … you look absolutely beautiful.”
You immediately tear up too, embracing him tightly. “Don’t make me ruin my makeup before I’ve even walked down the aisle!”
He laughs wetly, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. “Couldn’t help it! My girl is all grown up.”
Looking in the mirror, you hardly recognize yourself in the exquisite dress and pinned-back curls. But the overwhelmed bride staring back has the same little girl dreams you harbored all those years ago. Dreams that are finally coming true today.
Another quick knock precedes Georgia toddling in, chubby legs pumping. Your flower girl is absolutely angelic in her silky dress.
“Mama, pwetty!” She declares, rushing over for cuddles. You scoop her up, breathing in that sweet baby scent you adore.
“You look so beautiful, my love.” Blinking back fresh tears, you smooth down her unruly curls. “Ready to walk down the aisle with flowers?”
Georgia just grins and reaches for your necklace. You tickle her belly, making her dissolve into adorable giggles. Your heart swells with love for your daughter.
Too soon, the wedding coordinator is poking her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but it’s just about time!”
Butterflies erupt as everyone hustles to line up. Your father tucks your arm through his, beaming with pride. Just outside the doors, Georgia toddles down the petal-strewn aisle ahead of you both.
Then the soaring orchestral processional begins, and you step out into the golden afternoon sunlight. Gasps and murmurs rise at the sight of your dramatic gown trailing behind.
But your eyes lock instantly on Lando under the flower-woven arch, looking devastatingly handsome in his slate grey suit. His face lights up, and you know that your own mirrors the same wonder and joy.
The ceremony passes in a blur of emotions. Before you know it, the officiant instructs you and Lando to face each other and take hands. Time for the vows.
You go first, hands shaking as you pull out your prepared words. But speaking from the heart comes easily.
“Lando, when we first met under the most unexpected circumstances, I had no idea of the amazing journey we’d go on together. My job was to ensure your new daughter received the care she deserved.”
Your voice wavers slightly. “But so quickly, you both became so much more. Being welcomed into your family was the greatest gift. Watching Georgia grow, guiding her first steps and words ...”
You have to pause, blinking back more tears. Lando squeezes your hands encouragingly.
Composing yourself, you continue thickly, “I vow to always provide that same nurturing love and support. I promise to be your safe place to call home after long days apart. And I pledge to show our daughter daily what it means to be a strong, compassionate woman.”
Taking a shaky breath, you finish softly, “You two are my entire world. Loving you is life’s greatest joy.”
Lando’s eyes glisten as he brushes away the single tear trailing down your cheek. His thumbs linger, cradling your face tenderly.
Clearing his throat, he begins his own vows, voice wavering with emotion. “Y/N, you appeared in my life like an angel that frightening day at the hospital. I was so lost, overwhelmed by the massive responsibility of suddenly having Georgia.”
He glances down at your joined hands. “But your compassion and wisdom guided me through those uncertain early days. You made us feel safe.”
Looking up, his eyes pierce yours intensely. “What started as our doctor-patient relationship grew into the most important friendship I’ve ever known. And then, miraculously, into true, deep love. Thank you for loving Georgia as your own and showing me what true partnership means.”
Lando’s voice cracks. He pauses to take a shaky breath. “So I vow to spend every day reciprocating that love and support. I promise to shield you from the chaos of my world and provide a peaceful home for our family.”
Then he turns, taking a folded paper from the best man. “I asked Georgia if she wanted to say anything to her mama today.”
He opens it to reveal a drawing of three stick figures, one much smaller than the others. Scribbled hearts surround you all.
Lando’s voice thickens. “She said to tell you she loves you ‘this much’ and that you’re the best mama ever.”
A sob escapes you as Lando refolds the cherished drawing and hands it over. You press it to your heart, blinking back a fresh wave of tears.
Finally, you slip the wedding bands onto each other’s fingers with whispered words of eternal love and commitment.
When the officiant pronounces you husband and wife, Lando sweeps you into his arms for the kind of kiss that steals your breath and stops time.
You are finally, officially, wholeheartedly one.
The reception flies by in more happy tears, moving speeches, delicious food, and dancing under the stars. Watching Lando twirl Georgia around the floor tugs at your heart.
Later, as you slow dance wrapped in your new husband’s arms, Lando kisses your hair and whispers, “Ready for this new adventure together, Dr. Y/L/N-Norris?”
You beam up at him. “Absolutely. Lead the way, Mr. Norris.”
No matter where life takes you next on this journey, your family will thrive and grow stronger. Lando’s love lifts you up in ways you never imagined possible. And you vow to cherish and repay that gift until your last breath.
***
Returning home from a blissful honeymoon, you settle back into domestic life with Lando and Georgia. Mornings are spent over pancakes, playing hide and seek, and dancing around the living room. The pure joy of your little family never ceases to warm your heart.
One evening after putting Georgia to bed, you curl up with Lando on the couch and hesitantly broach something you’ve been thinking about.
“So I wanted to discuss something with you. It’s just an idea, and please don’t feel pressured at all.” You take a deep breath. “What would you think about me officially adopting Gigi?”
Lando’s eyes widen in surprise. You rush to continue explaining.
“I don’t want you to think I need a piece of paper to love her with my whole heart, because I already do. More than anything in this world.” Your voice cracks slightly.
Reaching out, you grasp his hands. “I just want to make sure that no matter what, I have a legal right to take care of her. But only if you’re completely comfortable with it!”
Lando is quiet for a long moment, studying your anxious face. Then a smile spreads across his face. “Love, I think it’s a beautiful idea.”
You sag in relief. “Truly? I wasn’t sure if it was too much ...”
Lando silences you with a tender kiss. “Gigi is the luckiest girl in the world to have you as her mum. I want the whole world to know that too.”
Tears prick your eyes as Lando caresses your cheek. “The day you promised to love Georgia as your own was the moment I knew you were different. I see how you are with her — the time, the care, the unconditional love ...” His voice cracks slightly.
“You gave us the greatest gift. I want you to have the same security that she’ll always be yours.”
A single tear traces down your cheek. Lando brushes it away gently before drawing you into his arms. You cling to him, heart overflowing with love and gratitude.
When you finally pull back, Lando is dabbing at his own eyes. “So,” he says with a watery chuckle, “How do we make this official?”
You explain the process — paperwork, a hearing, lawyer fees. He waves it all off.
“Whatever it takes. I’ll call our attorney first thing tomorrow.” Lando squeezes you tight. “Soon you’ll legally be Gigi’s mum too!”
You grin and kiss him soundly. With Lando fully on board, excitement takes root.
Over the next weeks, you go through the steps — filing petitions, scheduling court dates, and explaining the process in age-appropriate ways to an occasionally grumpy Georgia when she can’t go play outside instead.
Finally, the big day arrives. You dress Georgia in her favorite pink checkered dress and do her hair in perfect pigtails.
“My beautiful girl,” you murmur, smoothing down a flyaway curl. Her answering smile melts your heart.
At the courthouse, you all meet the social worker assigned to your case. She questions you and Lando gently about your relationship, home life, and approach to parenting. You cling tight to Lando’s hand the entire time.
Finally, it’s time for the hearing before a grandfatherly judge. He smiles warmly, peering over his glasses at you all.
“Well, I must say, this is one of the more straightforward cases to come before me. I can see clear as day how much love exists in this family.”
Relief floods you. The judge continues, “Therefore, I am more than pleased to grant the petition to finalize the adoption of Georgia Senna Norris by her mother, Y/N Y/L/N-Norris.” He bangs his gavel with an air of finality.
Joyful tears pour down your face. Lando whoops and sweeps you into a spinning hug. Even Georgia seems to realize something momentous just occurred, clapping her little hands.
In a daze, you sign the final paperwork making it official before emerging from the courthouse into the warm sunlight, your family now fully complete.
That evening, after Georgia is asleep, you curl up with Lando in bed, reliving the special day. He kisses your hair and murmurs, “I’m so proud of you, Mama.”
You grin against his chest. “I never thought I could feel so much love. She’s changed my life in every way.”
Lando tilts your chin up, eyes glowing. “That’s exactly how I feel about you. My girls who make life beautiful.”
***
One sunny afternoon, you’re in the kitchen prepping a snack for four-year-old Georgia when she comes bounding in from preschool.
“Mummy, guess what? My friend Amy at school is gonna be a big sister!” She hops up on her stool, eyes bright with excitement.
“Oh really? That’s fun!” You slice an apple into bunny shapes.
Georgia nods vigorously. “Yeah! Her mum has a baby in her tummy. Can I have a brother or sister in your tummy too?”
You freeze, knife hovering over the apple. Slowly setting it down, you turn to face her. “You want a little sibling?”
“Yes yes yes!” She bounces in her seat. “I asked Daddy already and he said I should ask you too.”
Your mind spins. A baby … it’s something you and Lando have only vaguely discussed as a someday possibility. But with Georgia asking so eagerly, the concept suddenly feels very real.
Just then, Lando walks in from his office. Georgia immediately appeals to him. “Daddy, tell Mummy we should have a baby! I wanna be a big sister.”
Lando meets your startled gaze, scrubbing a hand through his curls. “Well, uh, what do you think, love? Could be kinda nice to add to our crew.”
You glance between their hopeful faces, heart swelling. “I think … that could be really special for our family.”
Georgia cheers while Lando grins, coming over to wrap you in a hug. “A mini you running around? Sign me up.” His smile falters slightly. “Only if you want to though, truly.”
You squeeze him back. “I really do. We’ve come so far since the days of newborn Georgia. I’d love to go through it all again with you.”
The joy lighting up Lando’s face erases any lingering doubts.
That night after Georgia is asleep, you curl up together to discuss logistics. “I’ll need to give notice at the hospital once I’m pregnant so they can find someone to cover my maternity leave.”
Lando waves dismissively. “Don’t worry about any of that. Focus on growing our little muffin and I’ll handle the rest.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Our little muffin?”
“Or crumpet. Jellybean. Peanut.” Lando grins. “Take your pick, I’ve got a million terrible nicknames ready to go.”
Laughing, you swat his chest playfully. Sobering, you add, “It won’t be easy juggling a newborn and busy four year-old. But I can’t wait to see Georgia as a big sister.”
Lando smiles tenderly, threading his fingers through yours. “You’re already the most incredible mum. Our kids are so lucky.”
Your throat tightens at the absolute faith in his voice. No matter the challenges ahead, you’ll get through them together.
When you share the news with Georgia, she screeches loud enough to wake the neighbors. Her enthusiasm never wanes over the following months.
Finally, the big day arrives. After a long but relatively smooth delivery, your son enters the world screaming indignantly. The sound is music to your ears.
Lando cuts the cord with shaking hands before your little boy is placed in your arms. Love surges fiercely and instantly.
“Hi Maddox,” you whisper through joyful tears. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Lando presses a kiss to both your heads before going to bring Georgia in. She gasps softly, climbing up to peer at her new brother with wide eyes.
“He’s so little!” Reaching out a gentle finger, she strokes Maddox’s downy cheek. Your heart clenches watching your babies meet.
Georgia cuddles close as you adjust her arm to help cradle Maddox. “I’m your big sister Gigi! I’m gonna help take care of you.” She drops a sloppy kiss on his forehead.
Blinking back a fresh wave of tears, you meet Lando’s equally wet gaze. The road that first led you to Lando has become so much more than you ever imagined. But you wouldn’t change a single unexpected twist or turn.
***
You link arms with Lando as you make your way through the familiar Silverstone paddock. The distinctive smell of race fuel hangs in the air, mingling with the buzz of excitement rippling through the crowd.
Georgia skips ahead, her brunette curls bouncing with each step, while Maddox clings to Lando’s free hand, his eyes wide with wonder. Alexa, your two-year-old, nestles securely in your arms, her tiny fingers clutching the McLaren teddy bear she insisted on bringing today. A small smile tugs at your lips as you glance down at her cherubic face, so much like Lando’s. Your heart swells with love for your beautiful family.
“Mummy, look!” Georgia calls out, pointing towards the McLaren garage suite. “Can we go in and see the car later?”
“We’ll see, darling,” you reply with a wink, knowing full well that Lando will ensure a special tour for the kids.
Lando squeezes your hand, his warm eyes twinkling with adoration. “Anything for my favorite girls … and Maddox,” he teases, ruffling Maddox’s hair playfully.
Maddox giggles, his freckled cheeks dimpling. “I’m your favorite boy though, right?”
“Of course,” Lando assures him with a conspiratorial wink.
As you continue down the bustling pathway, a Sky Sports reporter spots your family and rushes over, microphone in hand.
“Lando! Dr. Y/L/N-Norris! Do you have a moment for a quick interview?” He asks, his cameraman already rolling.
Lando nods, ever the professional. “Sure, mate. Go ahead.”
The reporter flashes a bright smile at the camera. “We’re here at the Silverstone Circuit with McLaren driver, Lando Norris, his wife, Dr. Y/N Y/L/N-Norris, and their children, Georgia, Maddox, and Alexa. It’s the weekend of the British Grand Prix, and the Norris family has been a fixture in the paddock for years.”
He turns to Georgia and Maddox, crouching down to their level. “So, you two must love coming to the races with your dad. What’s your favorite part?”
Georgia’s eyes light up as she launches into an enthusiastic explanation about the cars and the pit stops, her hands gesturing animatedly. Maddox, the quieter one, simply mumbles “the colors” with a shy grin.
The reporter chuckles, clearly charmed by the children’s responses. Straightening up, he addresses you and Lando. “And how about you two? Managing a hectic F1 schedule with three young kids can’t be easy. What’s the secret?”
Before either of you can respond, Georgia pipes up, “But it’s not three kids, it’s five!”
You tense, shooting Lando a panicked glance. This wasn’t how you’d planned to share the news of your pregnancy.
“Five kids?” The reporter’s brows furrow in confusion.
Georgia nods matter-of-factly. “Yep, there are two more babies in Mummy’s belly!”
A hush falls over the small crowd that has gathered nearby, and you can feel dozens of eyes trained on your still-flat stomach. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively place a protective hand over your abdomen.
The reporter blinks, clearly thrown off-script. “Well, I … congratulations! That’s certainly going to be a handful.”
You force a laugh, leaning into Lando’s solid frame. “Yes, well, Lando’s always said he wants a football team.”
Your husband grins, that cheeky grin you fell in love with, and wraps an arm around your waist. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.”
The crowd titters with amusement, and you can feel the tension dissipating.
“I can only imagine,” the reporter replies with a smile. “Well, thank you all for chatting with us today, and congratulations again on your growing family!”
As the reporter and his crew move on, you turn to Lando, your eyes shining with unshed tears — a heady mix of residual mortification and overwhelming love.
“I’m so sorry,” you murmur, stroking his stubbled jaw. “I know we wanted to share the news on our own terms.”
Lando silences you with a tender kiss, his lips warm and achingly familiar against yours. When he pulls back, his gaze is soft, adoring.
“Are you kidding? There’s no better way to announce it than through Gigi,” he says with a wink. “Besides, I’m just happy the whole world knows that I have super sperm.”
You laugh despite yourself, shoving his shoulder playfully. “You’re impossible.”
“But you love me,” he counters, that infuriatingly irresistible grin stretching across his face.
“God help me, I do,” you sigh, melting into his embrace.
Georgia bounds over then, Maddox and Alexa in tow, her expression a mixture of exhilaration and uncertainty.
“Was I not supposed to tell, Mummy? Did I do something wrong?” She asks, her eyes wide and questioning.
You quickly kneel down, gathering all three children into your arms and peppering their faces with kisses.
“No, my darling, you didn’t do anything wrong. You just … surprised us, that’s all.” You share a look with Lando over their heads, a look that conveys a thousand words — your hopes, your dreams, your boundless love for this incredible little family you’ve created together.
Lando reaches down, ruffling Georgia’s curls with one hand while gently squeezing your shoulder with the other. A silent promise, a vow to always be by your side as you navigate the beautiful chaos of your life together.
Rising to your feet, you adjust Alexa on your hip and take Georgia’s small hand in your own. Maddox slips his hand into Lando’s, and you set off once more, the television crew long forgotten.
This is your life — a whirlwind of races and airports, photoshoots and interviews. But it’s also quiet nights cuddled on the sofa, re-watching Disney movies for the millionth time. It’s family hugs and sloppy baby kisses, skinned knees and endless giggles. It’s laundry piled to the ceiling and sleepless nights spent pacing the nursery.
It’s messy and magical, exhausting and exhilarating. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
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Celebrate Pride with Tor Publishing Group!
The Water Outlaws by S. L. Huang
Mountain outlaws on the margins of society, the Bandits of Liangshan proclaim a belief in justice—for women, for the downtrodden, for progressive thinkers a corrupt Empire would imprison or destroy. They’re also murderers, thieves, smugglers, and cutthroats. Together, they could bring down an empire.
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Somewhere Beyond the Sea by TJ Klune
The long-awaited sequel to The House in the Cerulean Sea is a story of resistance, lovingly told, about the daunting experience of fighting for the life you want to live and doing the work to keep it. Welcome back to Marsyas Island—home to six magical and purportedly dangerous children. This is Arthur’s story.
The West Passage by @jpechacek
When the Guardian of the West Passage dies in her bed, the women of Grey Tower feed her to the crows and go back to their chores. No successor is named, and no hand takes up the fallen blade, so the West Passage—the ancient byways of the beast—goes unguarded. This is a weird and delightful journey across a deliriously medieval landscape where decay thrives in abundance and giant Ladies rule a palace the size of a city.
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On the thirtieth anniversary of the largest magical massacre in New Orleans history, Clement and Cristina Trudeau mourn their father and care for their sick mother. But their mother isn’t sick, they learn: She’s cursed. Cursed by a member of the same magic council over which she used to preside. Cursed by someone who will come for Clement and Cristina next.
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Bury Your Gays by @drchucktingle
After so many years, Misha’s big Oscar moment is here. All he has to do? Kill off the gay characters in his long-running streaming series, “for the algorithm.” Misha refuses, but that’s hardly the end, because monsters from his old horror movie days have begun to step out from the silver screen and stalk him.
The Brides of High Hill by Nghi Vo
The Cleric Chih accompanies a young bride to her wedding to Lord Guo, the aging ruler of a crumbling estate, but amid the elaborate courtesies and extravagant banquets, they realize something haunts the shadowed halls. As the big night nears close, Chih will learn that not all monsters dwell in shadows; some hide in plain sight.
Remedial Magic by Melissa Marr
1) An unassuming librarian falls in love with a powerful witch.
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Swordcrossed by @fahye
Part-time con artist / full-time charming menace Luca Piere didn’t expect to get blackmailed into teaching a chronically responsible merchant Matti how to wield a sword. He also didn’t expect to find his charge so inconveniently handsome, or to get so entangled in his tale of intrigue, sabotage, and matrimony.
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,, Love Quest ''
Background character male reader x Protagonist oc
Part 1 Part 2
Tw/s: dub-con at the start, dacryphilia, rough sex, semi-public sex, overstimulation, multiple rounds.
In a world where everyone's assigned a role they have to be, you were one of the many unlucky yet common ones to get the role of a background character. One who couldn't even interact with the protagonist if you wanted. The way it works is through the system. There is a system that essentially controls the world. This system can create scenarios, assign roles, etc. This whole world was built by it. Everyone has to obey it, excluding the protagonist themself, that is. Some even say it's possible for the protagonist to control the system itself but, that's just a rumour.
Of course, the role with the most power is the protagonist. Anyone would dream to have that power. To be the protagonist and have everyone fawn for you, throwing themselves at your feet, worshipping your every step. Not only that, his love interest is the best of the best, the prettiest girl you'd ever be able to lay your eyes on, the one you'd never be able to get with if you weren't the protagonist. Just like any other previous protagonist in this world, the current one is an extrovert, River Sterling. He's a perfect guy in every way. He's very well known due to being the protagonist, but also, he is very talented. It's as if there is nothing he can't do. He's even the top 1 on campus. Very rarely is he seen getting anything under an A+. Despite everyone constantly praising him and falling at his feet, he remained humble.
Just like any other day, you enter the building with books in your hands. You had to return these to the professor after borrowing them for a day. No matter how much you studied, you always remained top 2, and because of that, you were annoyed by River. Of course, it's not his fault that he's the protagonist, but you couldn't help but still feel negatively towards him. Going up the many many stairs, you overhear a girl yelling, maybe at a guy? You're not sure what kind of situation it is, but you guess it is a fight between a couple. "You never even spend time with me! Am I not enough!? Destiny binded us together, and yet here you are, doing nothing to please me, your girlfriend!", it sounded like Aria, the protagonist's main love interest. "Aria, well how would I be able to spend time with you when I feel nothing towards you", River says with a nonchalant tone, shocking you a bit, you've never heard him using that tone before. You stop in your tracks, right in front of the door, where you can hear Aria yelling at him. "Y-you...what!?", you can hear Aria say in disbelief. "H-how is that even possible! I'm who you're supposed to be with, I complete you, I'm your other half!", even without being able to see her, you can tell she's tearing up, probably with a red face. Though despite her crying, you don't hear River comforting her. Which is again, very out of character for him.
Next thing you know, you hear a very loud slap accompanied by running sound towards the door. Before you could even react, the door swings white open, a blonde haired girl running out of the room, knocking you down in the process. You stare at the direction she runs to. "Who are you, why did you eavesdrop", you turn back to River, looking down at you, glaring, even. His once gentle eyes seem to be clouded. You don't even recognize him. "[N-Name]", you gulp, you felt as if the man in front of you was going to eat you whole if you said the wrong thing. "[Name]..? I've heard of you, the top 2, right?", he asks in an almost curious but borderline mocking tone. You remain seated on the floor, books scattered everywhere. "Are you not going to explain yourself?", he raises an eyebrow, walking towards you. Taking this as a sign to get the fuck out of there, you quickly grab the books and try to run off, only to have your shirt grabbed by the tall guy.
"Running off are we?", he looks at you with a questiong expression, why would you avoid him, he wont eat you, will he? With the clock ticking, both of you know that soon, this hall will be packed with students, fortunate for you, unfortunate for him. He doesn't want you to go before he can pry some information out of you.
Thinking of a plan, he quickly drags you to the room, shutting the door behind him so you won't be able to run out without him stopping you mid-way. With his hands crossed, he asks you once more, "Why were you eavesdropping?", his tone even more demanding. "I was on my way to the professor's office, I just overheard some things. Can I go now?", you give a quick explanation, wanting to get out of this situation as quick as possible. Though, he wouldn't allow it. "How much did you hear?", "not much, please let me go now," you walk towards the door, turning the door handle only to see it's locked. It shouldn't be. The door can only be locked from the inside, and by the looks of things, River didn't have time to lock the door.
[System: Love Quest]
In order to proceed, please engange in intercourse.
And just as the system suddenly appeared in their face, a percentage bar appeared in the corner of the room and it stood tall, at 0%. With one look, the both of you knew what it wanted. "What the fuck!?", you yell, looking at the window and then at the protagonist who clearly isn't phased. He only sighs, rolling his eyes, as if he was annoyed by this notification. "This shit again", he whispers, loud enough for you to overhear on accident. He's gone through this before..? is what you were thinking. You've almost never gotten a window from the system, let alone one with any sexual themes. If River wasn't shocked, that means it's probably a common occurrence for him.
The two of you stare at one another for an uncomfortable period of time. As if time stopped for a moment. "This is getting real annoying", he says, sighing and stepping towards you. You back away until your back is pressed on the door making you unable to escape as he grabs your chin, lifting it up and looking at you. "You'll make do", he says before pressing his lips onto yours. Out of shock, you try to push him off, wanting to yell at him. How could he, a protagonist, be kissing someone like you? You're what others would perceive as not worthy of being in his presence let alone be kissing him. Yet here you are, getting your mouth explored by the man himself. Your eyes were opened from shock but you closed it after a few seconds, wanting to savour this moment. His hand made its way to your cheek. He was very gentle with both his hand and lips, making you lean into his touch. Before long, you felt as if you were running out of breath, how long can he even kiss you for!? Fortunately for you, he let go of the kiss, panting and trying to catch his breath after that incredible make out session. "We're not done yet", he says, pointing out the elephant in the room which is the percentage bar which still stands tall at 0%, no progress has been made, making the room inaccessible from the outside. The doors being magically locked also kept anyone from getting out before the goal was met. You knew you had no other choice but to do this in order to get out, as much as you were annoyed by the guy as a student, you couldn't deny his charm, the way his eyes looked into yours, the way his grazed his thumb over your lips. Who wouldn't fall head over heels for him? Anyone would die to be you at this very moment.
Without any hesitation, you managed to gather the courage to pull him into another kiss, you could feel him smiling into the kiss as he reciprocated. Moving his hands to your hips, trailling down to your clothed butt. Gropping and fondling it before he eventually unzips your pants, letting them slide down to your ankles. Leaving your bottoms almost bare if not for your briefs covering your private part. "Ahm...agh", the both of you moaned into the intense kiss before letting go. "You're a good kisser", you comment, gasping for air once more. He smirks, "of course, I'm not the protagonist for nothing", he chuckles a bit. You felt hands slipping into your briefs, making its way to your ass, gripping it even more now. He really seems to be enjoying gropping you. You felt his fingers move closer and closer to your hole before he inserts a finger into you, causing you to grip his arms in shock. "A-agh..!", you let out a surprised moan, his finger wiggling around, trying to get your hole to relax a bit, "you're so tense, [Name], loosen up a little", his inserted another finger, making you unable to keep your composure no matter how much you try to.
You feel his fingers thrusting into you, as if trying to get you to cum from his fingers alone. His long and slender fingers were quite deep in you. It wasn't long before he added another finger. And now that three fingers are going in and out of your hole, you feel as if you're aboit to reach your climax. You close your eyes, moaning loudly. He took notice to this and immediately stopped his fingers as if knowing you were about to cum. You're now puzzled by his actions, why did he stop? "I don't want you cumming from just my fingers, that wouldn't be fun now would it?", you then hear the sound of pants unzipping, realizing it was from him. He pulled his hard cock out of his briefs. You stared at it for a while before he snapped you back to reality, "eyes up here, angel", he teased, giving you a pet name while he was at it. "What? Have you never seen a cock this big?", you definitely haven't. It wasn't just long, just looking at the girth of it made you shiver a bit, how will that even fit. It was befitting of a protagonist, he's perfect in every way, even in his physical attributes. "Enough staring, angel", he says as he suddenly picks your legs up. You instinctively put your arms around him tightly so you don't end up falling, "hey!", you yell, this wasn't a pleasant surprise, you could've fallen, "relax, you're quite light", he is very strong afterall, he's joined almost every single sport available at this point.
You decide to put your trust in him, he's able to hold you up for over a minute now, there's no way he'll suddenly drop you, that'd ruin the moment on top of you getting hurt. After the shock wore off, you notice something poking at your hole, "hm..?", you let out a hum of confusion, turning your head down only to see his cock at your entrance, wanting to be inside you. "Are you ready to be filled up like you've never had before?", the now cocky-like protagonist asks with a slight chuckle at the end. You nod and immediately feel his cock thrust up inside of you, almost halfway in already. He grunts at how tight you are despite him having prepared your sweet little hole for his cock beforehand. Trying his best to get his cock all the way into your hole as you moan out in pain and pleasure, "relax why don't you?", he gives a teasing smile. Leaning in for a kiss, he manages to get you to relax and without another word, thrusts the rest of his cock into you, shocking you once more. You accidentally bite his lip in the process, drawing a bit of blood. "Agh!", he pulls back, tapping his finger on his lip and seeing that blood is coming out of the wound. He focuses on you once more, as if signifying he's about to move. You give a slight nod and he starts to thrust in and out of you, slowly and sensually at first. "You're really warm inside", he comments while thrusting into you, looking into your eyes as you manage to keep them open.
After a while of the sensual and slow fucking, he gets tired of it, wanting to thrust into you quicker. And so, he does as he wants. Thrusting into you quicker this time, rougher. You close your eyes and tighten the grip on his upper back, scratching his skin through his shirt. Your moans are no longer considered quiet, you're full on moaning your head out. That was before you realized the bell had rung, students were on their way to class and they'd pass by this specific room. You bite your lip in order to muffle out the moans, keeping it somewhat quiet in order to not get caught. River on the other hand, didn't like this one bit. He wants to hear your delicious and sweet moans, you should let them out for him to hear. "Stop biting your lip, angel, let me hear you", something in his voice made you want to obey his words, and for some reason, you find yourself no longer biting your lip, now you're just letting it all out, moaning and crying out for him.
The faster he went, the more you felt like you were about to reach your climax. He also seemed to be close. The both of you sweating, moaning, grunting. "I'm, agh, gonna cum...!", he says as he shoots his load all in you, coating your inner walls with his seed, some even dripping out. At that moment, you also came, releasing your juice all over your stomach. With the two of you now panting and gasping for air, River carries you to a nearby table, letting the two of you rest for a while. Just then, the door swings wide open, "Who the fuck was making all that noise!?", a teacher yells into the room, seemingly staring straight at them. The teacher looks around in confusion, "huh...I was so sure there was someone here...", He then turns his heels and walks back out, closing the doors on his way. You who were covering your face due to this, looked in the direction the teacher was in confusion, "did..he not see us..?", you ask River, to which he replies, "the system did that, probably", as if the system heard the man, it dings and the both of you turn your heads towards the bar of percentage now sitting at a solid 30%, "huh? 30%?", you say out loud in even more confusion, "it wants us to have sex and get it up to 100%", River says without missing a beat, "ready for round two?"
———
"Agh..! To..oo big, ahghh...", you try to say in-between moans, overstimulated by his cock and the way he bites your nipples. "You're taking me so well", at least he's enjoying it, a lot. You even wonder if he has an infinite stamina, but of course your thoughts were drowned by the time he came in you for the third time. How many rounds has it even been? The bar has been stuck at 99% for so long, when will this end..You're so overstimulated at this point, River's cock has been relentlessly fucking you dumb. You can't even think anymore, nor can you let out any coherent words. It's been at least a couple of hours since the both of you started this, why hasn't it ended. Your cheeks are wet, wet from the tears which had been and are still rolling down your face. He loves witnessing your debauchery. Your clothes have been discarded to the side by now, you don't know where but they're on the floor somewhere. His thrusts get faster and faster, you didn't even know he could go this fast but here he is, fucking you with inhuman speed. "C'mon..ah..come with me, my angel...agh", he moans and grunts while saying this. Then his thrusts stop and you feel even more liquid filling your already over-filled hole, making it impossible to be kept inside and most of it dripping out your hole and onto the floor which has a pool of both yours and his cum. At that very moment, you feel your whole body give out as your vision blurs until you eventually black out.
———
What happened in the room stayed in the room. Your life went on as usual, the normal schedule. Though, one thing has definitely changed. That is the fact that you are now dating the protagonist despite still having the role of a 'background character' . Everyone was shocked but learned to accept it. Who are they to defy the protagonist's wishes? One person in particular wasn't happy about this. None other than his ex, Aria. Everyone saw that coming from a mile away, though, so nobody paid her any mind. After that, River took any and every class you took. Science? You'd see him sit there with an empty seat next to him, looking up at you and asking with a big smile, "come! Sit here, angel!", while patting the seat next to him to signal for you to sit. PE? He'd always get you into his team no matter what. No matter how bad the other team wanted you on theirs, they'd never have you as you now belong to River. Being in the same class as you had its advantages. That is, being able to fuck you in class without anyone noticing. To be frank, the both of you found it out on accident. It was during class when the both of you got a new love quest. You thought of leaving the class to finish but the system didn't let you. It wanted the both of you to do it at that very moment. When he took the initiative and pulled your shirt up to bite your nipples, not a single student nor the teacher had any reaction, it was as if the both of you were protected by an invisible bubble that allowed the quest to take place. That, combined with the fact the teacher couldn't see the both of you the first time, confirmed your suspicions that they were indeed unable to see you.
From that day forward, the two of you almost always got a love quest every single day of school. The session would last at least 2 hours, leaving both of you a hot sweaty mess once it was over and done with. You'd always be embarrassed and extra tight during these. The way you felt eyes on you, it was as if they could see you, but in reality, they really can't. You'd tighten up at the thought of them watching you, making River grunt even more due to your tightness. He'd smirk and ram even harder into you once this happens. "Naughty boy, you get off to the thought of people watching, huh?", he'd always tease you. These love quests would be random, though. Despite it happening every day, the two of you could never predict when it'd occur. It could be very early in the morning, in class, or even during an activity. It was always random, so why would you always see River getting hard even before the love quest appear...? It's probably nothing. You're just paranoid.
☆☆☆☆☆
Apologies for the wait. My schedule's been real hectic lately. This is not proofread, so please excuse the probably many mistakes/typos!
I hope you enjoyed it! If you have any questions/reqs, please do send them my way!<3
#male reader#oc x reader#lgbtq#gay#x male reader#oc x male reader#oc#top male character#bottom male reader#oc smut#「 by the hands of xin 」#Xin's River Sterling ☆
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𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 as much as you wanted to stay by his side, you couldn't bear the thought of watching him fall in love with other women while you're stuck at the kitchen washing dishes and measuring ingredients. so you dreamt of leaving, of traveling to different islands to share your lovely songs and tunes; but the more your desire to leave grows, the more sanji finds himself drowning in your warmth.
or,
you and sanji over the years, wherein five times you tried to leave him and the one time you finally did, despite his refusal to let you go.
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 musician reader, 5 + 1 things, pining, unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, heavy (kind of) angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 HERE IT IS! the response to the sneak peek was crazy, and so i rushed to get this done. i only watched the live action so beware of minor mistakes if you ever saw one. english is also not my first language and you are welcome to correct me anytime for any grammatical errors. title is a lyric from the last time by taylor swift ft. gary lightbody. this fic is also posted in ao3 with its full summary and WITH A BONUS CHAPTER. enjoy reading!
𝐰𝐜 11.3k
"There you are."
Your soapy, wet hands almost dropped the ceramic plate you were currently washing in the dirty kitchen sink as soon as you heard a familiar smooth and honeyed voice. Abruptly turning off the sink so that the sound of his approaching footsteps were clear to your ears, you wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand before turning your body towards him.
He was carrying a stack of plates, a fresh batch to add to the pile you had to wash, with an obnoxious yet handsome smile plastered on his lips. You took a deep breath to calm the growing irritation at the bottom of your stomach, reminding yourself that this was your job and you only had a couple of hours to endure until you're free to lock yourself up in your bedroom. You were particularly looking forward to writing today, and the thought of finishing the lyrics to your new song tonight slightly eased your mood. Accepting your fate, you pointed to the remaining space beside the sink.
"Place it there." You told him, albeit begrudgingly as you turn on the sink again and pour more soap on the battered sponge.
You took a mental note to ask Zeff later about buying new sponges, and if you were lucky to catch him in a good mood, you'll put in a request to get the sink fixed and cleaned. Your eyes scanned over the grime and rust around the area. If you were going to spend the rest of your life washing dishes, then you might as well get a proper kitchen sink to do so.
An amused laugh fell out of the golden haired man you grew up with, surprised at your compliance to do the job you hated. The sound nearly sent your poor heart into a dizzying whirlwind of little nuisances called emotions. "What a hardworking woman."
"I could say the same to you. It seems like you have a new record today." You said while you splashed dirtied bowls with soap water, smiling at him teasingly, "Thought you would've been kicked out of the line by now."
"The old man just can't help but to accept the fact that I am a greater cook than him." He smirked, wiping a knife with a dish cloth. Trying not to roll your eyes, you shook your head at his usual display of arrogance, yet you can't help but to grin as you began to hear scratching sounds against the floors.
"Then you better get those chopped carrots ready." You replied, and when you got to finish your sentence, the doors to the kitchen swung open, revealing the head chef.
Zeff's cold and steely eyes immediately landed on the blond. He walked towards him with a fast pace despite only having one leg, his braided mustache bouncing in each step.
"Aye, aye, aye. Why haven't you started on the carrots yet, little eggplant? Can you get any slower?" He scolded, loud enough for the whole staff to hear, but none of them even flinched. You returned back to your plates and glasses, smiling softly. This was part of your routine everyday: to listen in their silly arguments.
However, before the younger chef can reply, you butted in, "Sanji fetched some of the plates for me. Since there's a lunch rush, I couldn't leave the kitchen."
Zeff let out a low hum. You couldn't even see Sanji's face, but you knew him well enough to know that he was smiling triumphantly, knowing that he won this time. After a few minutes of contemplating, the head chef clicked his tongue. "Don't defend him, little lass. But I'll let it slip this time. What are you waiting for, then? Start cutting them!"
"Yes, chef." Sanji answered in a jovial manner, placing the carrots on a chopping board.
Twisting the faucet lever so that the water flow from the sink is gentle and quiet, you then paid attention to their little banters every now and then. You brought up a wine glass and positioned it by your side to try to get a glimpse of the two most important men in your life. Through their reflection on the glass, you can see Zeff hunching over Sanji's knifework, nodding every time the vegetables were correctly sliced.
On the other hand, Sanji was unbothered by the head chef's observations and continued to cut the ingredients calmly. Some of the strands in his hair fell down on one side of his face, covering an eye, and most people would think that it was an unusual way of styling hair; yet it was one thing out of many that you loved the most about him.
You accepted it years ago.
You accepted the fact that you somehow fell in love with Sanji Vinsmoke along your weird journey of working in a sea restaurant full of former pirates and making music while at it. How the pesky feelings grew and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. Maybe it was when he learned to cook your favorite food and gave it to you afterwards, or the way his crystal blue eyes reminded you of snowflakes every winter.
Or maybe it was when he pulled your hair out of jealousy the moment he learned that Zeff would be taking in another child in his care, but brushed it and even braided it after the latter cleared the misunderstanding. Maybe it was when he supported you in your dreams and told you they weren't silly, maybe it was when he fought off drunk men that were trying to hit on you. Or maybe it was the way his voice would drop an octave lower whenever he asks you for a favor. The list could go on and on and you still wouldn't know the reason why. It doesn't matter anyway. You tripped, you fell, and now you're pining.
Drying off the last of the plates, you washed your own hands after and patted them dry on your skirt. You were the last one to leave the kitchen, the other staff already back in their quarters after a long, exhausting day of cooking. You fixed the signature blue bandana tied in your hair then went on your way towards the upper deck.
You weren't blessed with a talent in cooking, so you offered to do chores instead. Washing the dishes, cleaning the restaurant, and doing the laundry were few of the things you do in the Baratie. You can't say that you enjoy it, but you were beyond grateful that Zeff gave you a chance despite his opposition to let a woman work inside his restaurant.
As you were about to go to the newly laundered clothes you hung on a thin wire earlier that morning, you heard two voices speaking. You also smelled cigarette smoke wafting through the air, and you only knew one person who could be smoking at this hour. Your breath hitched in anticipation.
"You bringing a woman to your bed again, Sanji?" The other person asked playfully, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You carefully took a peek so you won't accidentally reveal yourself and be accused of eavesdropping. Two people came into view with their backs facing you.
"Now, what are you talking about, Patty? I am a gentleman. I only had a nice chat with the lovely lady and escorted her back to her ship." Sanji interjected, a cigarette hanging on his lips.
Patty huffed. "I didn't know that chatting included kiss marks on jawlines."
This caused Sanji to laugh and say, "Not my fault she was charmed by my food."
"The boss man ain't gonna like it when he finds out about this."
"He's not gonna find out." Sanji assured him, wiping off the said kiss mark on his jaw. You stared at him as he did so, and you pitied the woman who planted that kiss, knowing she was just one of the many beautiful ladies Sanji had flirted with before. However, a tinge of pain in your chest said otherwise, taunting you that it was not pity you're feeling, but foul jealousy.
"Why don't you look for more decent women, eh? How about 'little lass' for a change?" Patty suddenly suggested.
It was like someone had hit your stomach with one of the metal pans in the kitchen with the way it lurched in surprise and nervousness. Your heartbeat started to quicken the longer you waited for his response, making your grip on your skirt tighter. In moments like these, you allowed yourself to hope, to wish that he saw something in you and that he finds you beautiful and lovely enough to be the person standing by his side.
But his answer made all that hope crumble down into nothing but dust.
"I don't see her that way." Sanji said after a long stretch of silence, taking a long drag from the cigarette then releasing the smoke in a single breath.
Ah.
You blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from forming. It's always been like this, so why can't you get used to it? Taking a deep breath, you gulped away the knot forming in your throat and decided to leave. You can grab the clothes later.
"You're too kind for him." Someone behind you spoke, making you jump and tense up. Turning around, you saw Zeff looking at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes and his hands on his hips, almost like he knew your secret. Of course he does. He always sees everything.
You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"
"That boy is always up to something." He began, switching his attention to Sanji. "One minute he's stubbornly immature in the kitchen, and the next he'll be a thirsty man staring at women like they're liquid booze."
Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.
"Well, he can be a lot sometimes." You agreed, remembering the days when the two of you would fight over irrelevant matters. Then you chuckled and continued, "But he's kind. He's gentle, and lovely, like a freshly made poem you keep repeating in your head. But then he's also confusing, hot-headed, and reckless. He's like the sea, isn't he? Calm yet wrapped with mystery, dangerous yet beautiful..."
You trailed off, an unbearable heat rising up your cheeks and neck once you slowly began to realize that you just ranted out your feelings to the head chef. You glanced at him with wide eyes, preparing to see a disgusted look on his face; however, Zeff didn't appear to be repulsed by your little speech. In fact, the corners of his lips were slightly quirked up.
"But I cannot swim. If I were to drown, he wouldn't save me." You quickly added, hoping to shut down the topic.
He sighed. "You will meet someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them, little lass." He simply said. He then laid his hand out, and on his palm was a little box poorly tied with a ribbon. "Here, for you."
Altnough you were a bit confused at the random gift, you accepted it and cradled the box to your chest. "I'll be okay, Zeff." You insisted, grinning cheekily. "When I become famous, I'll sing my songs here in Baratie, and people would flood the restaurant to hear my singing. And to eat your food too, of course."
The head chef nodded, relief flooding his expression. "I look forward to that." He said while awkwardly returning your smile.
That night, when you were sure that everyone in the Baratie was asleep, you opened the loose floorboard on the floors of your bedroom and grabbed the wooden box you kept hidden for a long time now. You opened the lid and began counting the Berry you saved for the past few months.
Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.
You just can't stay here. Yes, you had a roof over your head, delicious food to eat everyday, and clean clothes to wear but you were so miserable. This wasn't the life you wanted. You wish to go out there, sing your heart out, and fall in love with someone who actually loves you back.
A knock on your door made you freeze. You held your breath as the person on the other side continued to knock a few more times. "You awake?"
Pain surged through your veins, your chest twisting in agony. Sanji.
"You didn't come down for dinner. I guess you're too tired, hmm?" He said, his muffled voice gentle, and the sound almost prompted you to stand up and open the door for him. But you dug your fingernails in your palms and resisted, because you can't just let this opportunity pass by.
You heard a brief clinking sound before Sanji spoke again, "Sweet dreams, ange."
Once his footsteps faded away, you cautiously moved towards your door and opened it as quietly as you can. There, on the floor, was a small plate with a slice of your favorite desert: angel's food cake, topped with fresh cream and strawberries.
You bent down and saw a note beside the plate. And when you got to read the contents of the note, you burst into tears and sobs that wracked down your entire body.
Happy Birthday
— S.
You ate the cake with tears silently falling down your cheeks, and that was the first time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.
⸻ • ⸻
Today was the day, and you won't allow anyone to ruin it for you.
You had saved enough Berries to travel around the world and sustain yourself for the upcoming months. Your notebook containing the lyrics of the songs you wrote laid open on top of your bed as you spent all night revising them while planning out an itinerary. Then you'll find a place to settle in, a stable job that required doing what you loved the most, and overall just be peaceful and free from pirates and chefs and pirate chefs. It was perfect.
Folded clothes surrounded you everywhere, ready to be packed in your bags. Once you finished stuffing them all in, you grabbed your treasured instrument, the one thing you couldn't live without: your guitar, which has been with you since you were a little child. It was given by your mother and you've been attached to it ever since.
It has scratches all over its wooden surface, and the strings needed some fixing occassionally, but you wouldn't trade it for the greatest treasures in the world. You ran your fingers over it, suddenly feeling like it was lacking something. Seeing the paint chipping off at the corners, you figured that it needed a little color. You'll need lacquer, and paint if you managed to find some.
You set the guitar aside and left your bedroom to head downstairs to the kitchen. As you were about to push the doors open, a loud, angry shout made you stop in your tracks.
"I won't ever become a pathetic waiter for you!" Sanji's thunderous yells can be heard from outside. Your shoulders tensed up. It was a good thing that brunch was over and all the customers had left.
Zeff's own furious voice followed, "Leave then, for all I care! You can do anything you want, but don't you ever serve one of your shit dishes in my kitchen!"
A frown settled on your face. Their fights were a normal occurrence to you, but this one sounded more grave than usual. Crossing your arms, you stepped in closer to the entrance and hesitated whether you should go in or not. Before you could make a decision, Zeff beat you to it by pushing the doors open, rage emanating from his figure as he ignored and walked past you.
Without hesitation this time, you entered the kitchen, greeted by the sight of Sanji bowing over the counter, breathing heavily, his face covered with his hair. He didn't move an inch even as you approached him, the clacking of the heels in your boots echoing throughout the room.
Both of you were silent as you rummaged through cabinets, trying to find lacquer to cover your guitar with, while he tried his best to calm himself down after his outburst. Many cupboards later, you finally found a small can of used up lacquer, but as you started to reach for it, your hand completely stopped mid-air.
You looked over your shoulder, and found Sanji already recovered from the argument seeing that he was on the move again, preparing a cut of beef tenderloin and other ingredients he needed for tonight's dinner.
Slowly, you closed the cupboard and went closer to him. He still refused to look at you. And so you watched him place a bag of flour on the countertop, slices of cold butter, and a variety of spice bottles to season the meat with.
Sanji began to wrap twine around the beef tenderloin. You sighed, and before you could stop yourself, you grabbed a bowl and decided to help him. Your guitar can wait.
It was rare for you to cook inside the kitchen, having so little knowledge about food and how they were prepared, but you knew this recipe well. You poured two cups of flour through the sifter, followed by placing heaps of the cold butter in the mixture.
The moment you started to mix the dough for the puff pastry, Sanji quickly pointed out in a monotone voice, "You're adding too much butter."
You raised your head and glanced at him, his attention now on the meat he was searing on a skillet. You smiled, glad that he was speaking again.
"You're beginning to sound like the old man himself." You joked lightly.
His jaw clenched. "Don't compare me to that shitty geezer."
In a softer voice, you asked, "What happened?"
"The usual." He replied curtly. "Didn't approve of my dishes."
You perked up upon hearing about a dish he made himself. Sanji was talented when it comes to creating his own recipes, and sometimes, you would be the person he chooses to test them out. Every time he lets you taste them, your chest would feel warm and you wouldn't be able to sleep for days because you'll keep replaying it in your head. "What did you make this time?"
"It doesn't matter. He'll never agree to any of them."
"Maybe I can—"
"Drop it. Don't poke your nose in things you're not involved." Sanji cut you off, his hardened gaze meeting your concerned stare. You only blinked at him, straightening up.
"I see." You muttered, eyes landing on the bag of flour. You looked at him, then at the flour, then back at him. A smile began to form on your lips as a devious plan formulated itself in your brain. Sticking your hand inside the bag of flour, you took a fistful of the pillowy powder and threw it straight into his face.
Sanji jumped back, flinching and closing his eyes when some of the flour's particles managed to enter them. His jaw dropped open in surprise, hands quickly removing themselves from the skillet's handle to dust off the flour that rested on his now white hair. You tried to stifle a laugh as you watched him struggle getting the flour out.
Once he managed to clean himself, he stared straight at you and said in the calmest way possible, even if you knew deep inside that he was fuming, "What was that for?"
A high-pitched snort left your mouth. You covered it to prevent yourself from laughing.
You cleared your throat and smiled at him innocently. "Am I involved now?"
His piercing blue eyes then started to sparkle with mirth, amusement replacing the vexation previously swimming in them. He also looked to be trying to push down a smile, and that made your heart skip a beat. "You're insufferable."
He reached for the bag of flour. You squeaked and took off running, trying to escape from his attack, but he still managed to throw a small amount on you. Giggling, you ran the opposite direction to confuse him, and yet he caught up with you, throwing another round of flour. This time, it hit your cheeks, making you laugh loudly. He laughed along, pointing a finger at you because you probably looked crazy at the moment.
You tried to take the bag of flour away from him, but he just took it an as opportunity to catch your arm and grip it firmly. He pulled you into his chest, caging you completely.
With your cheeks warm and your breaths short, you tilted your head up and looked at him, noticing the way that you were both covered in flour; and not only that, you also noticed the short distance between your bodies and how your noses were almost touching. His pupils were dilated, black dominating the alluring blue shade that kept haunting your dreams. You drank in the attention he was giving you, the breathing coming out from his soft lips, and the comfortable silence that wrapped around the both of you like a safe little bubble.
"Caught you." Sanji muttered, voice deeper and huskier, making you let out a quiet sigh. His arms snaked around your waist as he leaned in closer. A million questions started to run inside your head, begging to know what this situation was and how you got into it. "Nowhere to run now, darling."
A slamming of doors shattered the secret moment you shared, and you immediately pulled away from each other. You pushed down your disappointment and hid it in the secret crevice in your heart as the two of you faced your intruder.
Zeff observed your flour-laden figures, his thick eyebrows scrunched together in irritation. He then demanded, voice seething and dripping with anger, "What in the hell are you two little brats doing?"
Sanji blurted out in defense, "Zeff, we—she was the one who started it!"
"And you went along with it!" You accused incredulously, grinning from ear-to-ear. Sanji grinned back, shaking his head and biting his lower lip.
"Oh, shut up before I stitch your mouths! Just by looking at you two, I already know that you snot-nosed shits are both at fault!" Zeff shouted, clicking his tongue at the sight of the half emptied flour. "Wasted them good flour for your childish fights. You're even worse than fatwits. Get out and clean the toilets!"
"Not the shitty toilets!" Sanji groaned, and you couldn't blame him for it. The bathroom area smelled revolting and the floors were always wet for some reason.
"I don't wanna hear complaints from you when you've dirtied my kitchen! Off you go!" Zeff dismissed, and you can't help but to laugh again when you saw Sanji pout like a little kid.
The head chef watched the two of you leave the kitchen together while giggling and exchanging fond looks. Patty, who also saw the whole situation unfold, suddenly appeared beside him, snickering, "I can already hear the wedding bells ringing."
Zeff took a deep, tired breath.
"Oh, they're ringing alright."
You cleaned and scrubbed the toilets the entire afternoon with the man you're in love with, flushing your plans down the drain and forgetting all about them, and that was the second time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.
⸻ • ⸻
You didn't know how you ended up in a ship full of pirates.
Well, maybe you knew. A little. But it wasn't supposed to be like this.
Your knuckles were beginning to turn white with how tight you were clenching them. A mix of emotions swirled around in your chest, namely confusion, impatience, and hesitation, pondering about whether you should be irritated at yourself or at Sanji.
The opportunity was there, handed to you like a steak on a golden platter, or a miracle that suddenly fell from the sky. The day you met Luffy and his strange pirate crew was the day you immediately realized that he was the key to your exit from the Baratie. He was friendly; a good pirate, according to his own words, so you figured he would allow you to tag along for a while until you find an island to get off to. You just had to ask for his permission and wait for his reply.
Luffy agreed. And you were ecstatic. You were finally going to leave Sanji Vinsmoke and your pathetic, unrequited feelings behind.
Or so you thought.
You watched in horror as he followed you when you boarded the Going Merry, also carrying a bag of his own. He said something along the lines of Luffy needing a cook for the journey to the Grand Line but you couldn't care less. You got here first. Why was he here?
So here you were, sitting in a corner, lonelier than ever and regretting your life decisions. You watched Luffy and his friends celebrate after defeating the pirate Arlong and saving Coco Village from his inhuman hold over its people, but Sanji and the beautiful orange haired Nami were nowhere in sight.
The thought of them being gone together at the same time left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue.
Nami. The first time you laid eyes on her, ethereal was the word that came up to your mind. With soft deep saffron locks that framed her small face and a wide blue eyed gaze, she would have the cruelest of men begging for mercy and affection at her feet.
Unfortunately, Sanji was one of those men.
Fuck, you cursed mentally, rubbing your face with your hands to try and forget about the times he flirted with her and the moments he wouldn't stop talking about her or kept asking about her favorite food or dessert or if she's into blonds. Your already battered heart doesn't need the usual reminder that he'll never see you that way, that you weren't going to experience his sweet words and his loving gazes.
You took a sharp breath. It's okay, you tell yourself over and over again until they were buried in your heart. They'll make a great pair, Sanji the cook and Nami the thief. A strong man with an equally strong woman. Yes. That makes sense.
You'll leave soon anyway, and you'll no longer have to worry about seeing them or how they were going to end up together.
And yet you can't help but to think about the things that could've been if you were the one he was in love with instead.
You were crossing your arms and hugging yourself as the crisp afternoon air was getting chilly when a hand gripping a shot glass filled with amber liquid appeared in front of you. Looking up, you saw Luffy smiling widely at you, waving the glass encouragingly.
"Come on, just one drink! Usopp poured this for you!" The captain exclaimed heartily, obviously trying to uplift your spirits and to make you feel welcomed in his crew, even though you did nothing but to guard the Going Merry while they were fighting for their lives.
You shook your head and smiled politely. "No, I don't drink. Sorry."
Luffy's smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. He nodded, setting the glass down on top of a barrel. "Well, okay." He said, then turned to Usopp, who was currently downing a whole bottle of whiskey. "Hey, where's Nami?"
"Oh, she's with the cook," Usopp replied cheekily, wiping his mouth after drinking. There was a teasing tone in his voice as he continued, "Someone's getting a boyfriend tonight!"
With that said, you reached for the shot glass that Luffy was offering you earlier, grabbed it swiftly, and poured the whole thing down your throat. The whiskey tasted unfamiliar, and it burned and made you dizzy at first taste, but it doesn't matter; as long as it can make you forget just for a little while, you were willing to drink more of the horrible beverage.
Zoro, the green haired swordsman and the captain's first mate, stared at you as if you had lost your mind, but a tinge of concern was visibly written on his face. "Woah, slow down." He warned sternly.
"I thought you didn't drink." Was all Luffy said, blinking in confusion. You chuckled tiredly.
"Now I do."
Drink after drink, glass after glass. You lost count on how many times Usopp poured whiskey for you, or how many times Zoro shook his head in disbelief. Luffy was the same old happy-go-lucky captain throughout the disaster that was starting to brew inside you, turning your brain into mush. You can barely lift your head or your fingers as you asked for another shot in an incoherent voice. Luckily, Usopp was still able to understand you, tipping the whiskey bottle yet again towards your glass.
You started to raise the glass to your lips, eager to just get severely drunk and be over with it already. However, you suddenly felt strong fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you from drinking; and when you caught sight of a familiar silver ring with Baratie's jolly roger inlaid upon it, you didn't need to look up to know who it was.
Sanji's voice was unnervingly calm as he questioned the crew, but the slight shake in his words lets you know otherwise. "Which one of you allowed her to drink?"
"No one. She took the glass and made the decision herself." Zoro drawled, challenging the chef, "The last time I checked, waiter, you were supposed to be the one responsible for her."
Sanji ignored him and turned his attention to you. He stole the shot glass away from you, then kneeled and held your hands comfortingly, smiling. "Come on, ange. It's time for you to rest now." He said quietly, yet loud enough for only you to hear.
You stubbornly shook your head repeatedly and whined loudly. "No! Don't touch me!" You cried, prying your hands away from his, "I don't like you...!"
Zoro huffed in amusement at your declaration. Sanji glared at him for a short second before looking at you again. This time, he stood and gently placed his arms under your shoulders to raise you up. Once you were standing on your feet, he swept you up and carried you bridal style with ease. Another whine escaped your lips.
"Put me down! I want another drink, please, just one more!" You pleaded while throwing weak punches on his chest. Sanji only smiled and began to lead you towards the sleeping quarters. You continued to thrash in his arms as he walked slowly and in small steps so he wouldn't drop you.
Sanji carefully set you down on your hammock. "No drinks for you until you actually learn how to take them." He told you, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek and rubbed it in circles, noting how fast you were heating up due to the alcohol. You pouted.
"Pretty please, Sanji...please..."
He chuckled, staring at you intensely. "Maybe some other time, ange."
You went quiet, staring back at him with half-lidded eyes. Then, you crossed your arms like a child and asked, "Why do you keep calling me that?"
Sanji raised a brow. "Call you what? Ange?"
You nodded. "I don't like it."
He began to smile, the dimples on his cheeks appearing. You briefly wondered if he'd allow you to poke and feel them. "Why?"
"I don't know what it means. Is it an insult?" You wondered aloud, your eyes widening in curiosity.
A hearty and warm laugh came out from Sanji, his eyes forming half-moons as he cackled at your words like they were the biggest joke he heard in his entire life, "Oh, my dear girl, how could I possibly insult you?" He managed to speak between laughs, "It means angel. You're an angel, to me at least. My angel."
Oh.
Your lips parted in surprise. Blinking, you simply said, "You're not Sanji."
He's not Sanji. He wouldn't call you angel; you're not even sure if he found you beautiful or attractive. You wear the same old tattered dresses that Zeff bought for you a long time ago, and you didn't even bother to style your hair or put on face powder like all the other beautiful ladies do. You look nowhere near to an angel.
But Sanji only grinned. "I assure you, I am very much Sanji. The little brat who pulled your hair when we were barely eleven years old."
Your breath hitched at the thought of him remembering one of your fond memories in your childhood. "You remembered."
"Of course I remembered." He whispered, cupping your cheek one last time before he got ready to leave. He turned on his heel and was about to walk away when you spoke.
"Are you going to see her again?" You asked, and he quickly noticed how broken your voice sounded. Sanji faced you in concern and was taken aback with how deep you were frowning. He figured that you were just drunk and women tend to be different when they were intoxicated. You were no exception to that, it seemed.
"Hm?" He hummed, prompting you to elaborate further.
Tears began to form in the corners of your eyes. You shakily mumbled, "Nami...you're going to Nami, aren't you?"
Sanji froze, an icy cold rush filling up his body. A knot formed in his throat, and it continued to tighten the longer he stared at your face. You looked so hurt—like he just destroyed your beloved guitar into pieces. Your lower lips were trembling, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. For a moment, he couldn't find the courage to answer you, feeling like he could die at any second now if he answers your question.
But the answer was simple.
"Yes." He breathed out, a sharp pain stabbing through his heart.
And it only became worse when a teardrop finally rolled down your cheek. "Why?" You rasped, and Sanji didn't know that a single word can hurt this much.
He tried to give you a reassuring smile but awfully failed to do so. He started to explain, "We were just discussing something—"
"Why not me?"
Those three words coming out of your mouth felt like a final blow to his heart. He can feel himself bleed, drained of life and soul because of you and your words alone, and he let you. He let you kill him, he let you make him swim in his own guilt and he doesn't why, why, why.
More tears fell out of your angelic eyes, staining your cheeks with wet trails, and he tried to hold himself back from wiping them off. You choked out, "Why not me, Sanji? I have been asking myself that question for the past decade, and it eats my brain every night like some kind of plague, but I let it anyway. Because why? Why can't you just recognize me and appreciate me and see me? Why can't you go to me if you want to talk about your dreams, or what dish you're planning to create? Why do you have to seek solace in other women when you have me standing by your side everyday, me who is willing to listen to you and whatever you have to say?"
Angry, red rimmed eyes glared at him. Your hair strands stuck to your skin and framed your face as sweat began to form on your forehead. Teardrops clung to your wet eyelashes and your face was drenched like you just took a swim in the ocean. You were burning with fury and rage and want, struggling to breathe properly after your little rant, and Sanji thought you couldn't be more beautiful. You were so beautiful.
"Oh but I couldn't blame you for that. She's just so beautiful, so perfect, and so strong. She could give you anything you wanted and she could be anything that I never was." You hiccuped, smiling forcibly, "But in the end...I will still love you. I will always love you. I think."
You scooted closer to him, leaning in until your faces only had a few inches apart between them. You didn't notice how his lips were slightly parted in shock, nor his eyes that were starting to glisten with his own tears. "No matter where I flee to, or where I lay my heart on, or which skies I look at—it's always you, Sanji. It's always been you."
"I had been so selfless all these years, Sanji. So please, can you pretend to like me too, just for today, before I leave?" You whispered meekly, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands. Numb and completely speechless, Sanji simply gave you a single nod as a response.
You gingerly pressed your lips against his, and he immediately tasted the saltiness of your tears. But your lips were soft, as he expected from an angel like you. And so he couldn't help himself; he closed his eyes and delicately kissed you back, repeating your name in his mind like a sacred prayer and wishing to the stars above to not let the moment end.
However, you broke the kiss by losing consciousness and falling down on your hammock, knocked out and peacefully snoring.
Sanji spaced out, not moving from his position. No. It's not that he didn't want to move—he couldn't move. He couldn't feel anything except for the drumming of his heart, knocking on his chest desperately. His lips were still tingling and his ears and neck were warming up.
He gulped, loosening the collar of his shirt to cool himself down. He needed a cigarette. And a drink.
Scrambling to get up even with his trembling legs, Sanji managed to stand properly. He avoided your sleeping figure and decided to get out of the room as soon as possible. However, when he took a step forward, his foot touched a notebook lying on the floor.
Sanji bent down and took the notebook. He flipped it open, and after reading only the first page, he finally came into a conclusion.
Heartbroken, drunk, and unaware, you dozed off the rest of the afternoon. When nightfall settled on the azure horizon and dusk fell on the rough surface of the sea, you missed the chance to walk away from the crew yet again; and that was the third time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.
⸻ • ⸻
The next morning, you woke up feeling much better with only the memory of you drinking and crying yourself to sleep and nothing else. Everything was normal, and the crew began to make plans for their next adventure during breakfast.
Everything was normal, except for Sanji, who was quiet throughout the whole discussion. And of course, just like always, you were the only one who noticed his strange behavior. You tried to catch his eyes, but he looked at everywhere except you.
When he finally met your gaze, you gave him a soft smile, hoping he would smile back and everything was fine and you were just overthinking it.
He doesn't.
⸻ • ⸻
"Are you really going to leave?"
Taking your gaze away from the heart shaped cloud you spotted on the clear blue sky, you faced the person who asked the question you were dreading for some time now. Luffy was staring curiously at you, awaiting your answer. You can't help but to smile softly at the captain, whose kindness you have yet to repay.
"I believe we already talked about this, captain." You said, recalling your short conversation last night. He kept asking you if you were really sure about your decision while his eyes darted to a certain blond haired chef every time he shoots you the question. It was strange, and you felt even more suspicious when Sanji pretended not to hear your answer and even refused to glance your way.
Luffy put his hands on his hips. "You know, you're welcome to stay and be a part of my crew."
You crossed your arms, smile growing wide. "And what, pray tell, is my role? Sing battle songs and chant your names while you swing your gummy arms at pirates?" You joked playfully.
The young captain stroked his chin in deep thought, almost like he was considering your suggestion. "That's not a bad idea."
You bursted out laughing, shaking your head in disbelief, "I'll leave first thing in the morning. I told Nami to dock at a nearby island."
"What about Sanji?" He suddenly questioned, leaving you flabbergasted for a split second. You weren't prepared to hear Sanji's name after days of not talking to him properly.
Him not speaking with you wasn't a strange occurence at all; back when you were still in the Baratie, there would be days when Sanji wouldn't bother to acknowledge your presence and would completely ignore you. This would happen whenever he was extremely busy with his cooking or he had a disagreement with Zeff.
And it seemed like this was one of those days, seeing that he had been ignoring you for about a week now. Yes, you have been keeping count. Although he doesn't appear to be angry with you, the short-lived exchanges and the abrupt cut-offs before you could say anything deeply concerned you more than it should have.
You tried to rack your brains for reasons on why he was acting like this. Maybe Nami had rejected him for the hundredth time, or Zoro kept throwing insults in his direction—or maybe his cigarette packet had ran out. Maybe his kitchen knives weren't sharp anymore and he was struggling in the kitchen.
Should you ask him? Should you go to him and demand him to tell you what's wrong?
You pressed your lips together. It sounded like the worst idea you've thought of so far. You convinced yourself that Sanji was fine and he'd be back to normal in no time; there would no need to talk to him.
"What about him?" You faltered, chuckling to ease the tension in your body.
"You care for each other." Luffy explained bluntly and matter-of-factly, "What does he think about you leaving?"
A shaky sigh made its way out of your lips. How will you tell the captain that his cook has been avoiding you like you were some kind of rotten fish these days?
"I..." You stammered, gathering the courage to lie to Luffy even if you thought it would be the gravest sin you could commit, "He...agrees. Yeah. No need to worry."
Luffy grinned, but it didn't look normal at all. You winced in embarrassment. He knew that you were lying and was totally unconvinced.
Luckily, he didn't voice it out. He only nodded and said, "Great! Oh, I have an idea! Why don't you sing for us before we part ways? Think of it as a farewell party for the crew."
Hearing the pure and genuine excitement dripping from his voice, you couldn't turn him down. It was a good idea too, and now that you thought about it, you haven't performed for them yet. "Sure." You agreed, shrugging.
He raised his fist up in the air and cheered. You smiled, watching as he shouted for his crewmates' names to come down and listen to you sing. You prepared yourself for an impromptu performance, making sure that your guitar was properly tuned and your voice was clear enough to give you the best version of your singing. Sitting on top of a barrel, you faced your audience of four, all their eager eyes watching your every move.
As you struck the first chord to your song, you tried hard not to think that Sanji wasn't there to watch you sing the song you secretly dedicate to him.
In the kitchen, Sanji busied himself by plating the food that he'll serve to his fellow crew mates for dinner. He grabbed a large plate and placed the chicken drumsticks that his captain favored, but Luffy wasn't the one in his mind when he cooked those. Looking at the food, he wondered if you would love them too.
He shook his thoughts off and took the plate with him outside. Approaching the crew, his steps slowed down when he heard a familiar singing voice and a melodic tune of a guitar.
Sanji almost dropped the plate.
It was you. Of course it was you, you were the only one he knew who had a voice like that. It was you, and you were singing with a lovely smile painted on your sweet lips, the very same lips that touched his a few days ago, resulting in him not getting a wink of sleep every night. The beam of the sunset right behind you colored your hair in the different shades of the sky as the dulcet-filled notes you made echoed throughout the vast sea. For a moment, he was worried that you were going to attract ferocious sea beasts with your angelic voice and steal you away from him.
He could hear his blood pound in his ears the longer he observed you from afar. You looked happy. Happier than you were when you stayed with him and Zeff. His chest tightened, knowing that you leaving and go on adventures on your own was probably the best decision you could make, even if that means leaving him too.
You were finishing up your song by the time you saw Sanji standing behind Usopp, silently listening. He met your gaze, and for the first time ever, you couldn't read his mind. His expression was blank as you stared at each other, and as you opened your mouth to say something, he cut you off.
"Dinner's ready." Sanji announced shortly, setting down the plate in front of Luffy and then walked away without saying another word.
That was your final straw. You immediately put down your guitar and followed him into the kitchen. You didn't care about how you felt Nami's watchful eyes on you as you went after him, nor how Luffy was scarfing down the dinner and was definitely going to finish it all before you could take a bite; you just chased the blond with determination oozing out of you.
You roughly pushed the door open and found Sanji washing the pans he used for cooking. He glanced at you briefly then quickly looked away after. This irritated you even more as you demanded, "Is there something bothering you?"
"You should eat before the food gets cold." He said with an empty voice.
"Sanji!"
He stiffened. You rarely raised your voice at anyone. Sighing in defeat, he dried off his hands and fully faced you.
Your eyes were sharper than his knives, cutting straight into his soul. "I've known you for a long time now, do you think I don't notice whenever you have a problem?" You glowered, taking a step closer to him, "You have a problem. What is it?"
It happened fast. His hand landed on the small of your back and pulled you to his chest, and the other was placed on top of your cheek, and in a single motion, Sanji captured your lips with his. You gasped in the kiss, your heart dropping to the soles of your feet when he tilted his face to deepen it. Your fingers tightly grasped the sleeves of his shirt for support as he passionately moved his lips against yours. A pleasant heat ran down your spine, your whole body tingling and warming up. You were simply drowning. There was no other way to describe it, and it was only caused by his fervent kisses.
Sanji pulled away, resting your forehead on top of yours, and you took it as an opportunity to breathe in air that you lost. "You are the problem." He murmured lowly, eyes darting down to your swollen lips. Confused and lightheaded, you didn't get the chance to retort.
"Ever since that night, ange, you occupy my thoughts. You gave me a taste of your lips and you didn't even remember the next day. Do you know how that feels, hm?" He said, pecking your lips once again. You made a noise in the back of your throat, turning your head sideways so he couldn't kiss you anymore, but he took your chin and hungrily connected both of your lips.
He spoke between kisses, "You torture me. Ever since I read those songs you wrote about me in that little notebook of yours, you torture me with your presence."
That was when you snapped out of your daze. With all the force you could muster, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him away. Sanji stepped back, surprised at your reaction.
Without giving him a chance to ask you anything, you ran off and left the kitchen, slamming the door loudly so you wouldn't hear him calling your name and be tempted to go back in his arms again.
You arrived in the sleeping quarters, locking the door behind you. You were sure that the others would understand you needing your alone time. Once you made sure you were on your own, your body collapsed altogether, your back sliding down against the door as you panted heavily.
He knows, was all you could think about. He knows about the songs. He knows about your feelings.
Well, you finally got your answer to your previous question, but a more complicated one replaced it. With trembling hands, your fingers raised themselves to your lips, touching its surface. You hated the way that you still felt his warmth on top of them.
A lone tear slid down the side of your nose. He was cruel. Sanji was cruel.
You didn't come out of that room for days, refusing to talk to anyone as you gathered your scrambled throughts and pulled yourself back together, and that was the fourth time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.
⸻ • ⸻
A stack of books, most of them being a collection of maps compiled in one, rested beside you while you flipped through the pages of the one you chose among them.
Nami has been lending you her books ever since you shut yourself out from the crew. You ignored all of them and only let Nami in, hoping that she'll be able to understand you; and she did. She was a good listener. Although you weren't particularly close with each other, you trusted her and told her everything: your dreams, your problems, your feelings, and Sanji. In return, she confided in you too.
"Here. So you can finally decide on where you will go to," You recall her saying while she handed you her collection of world map books, "and to distract yourself, of course."
"You're too kind, Nami." You said in admiration. Maybe this is why Sanji was enamored with her. She was a beauty inside and out.
Nami shrugged, yet she was smiling. "Just helping a fellow woman out."
The books did take your mind off the stubborn blond haired man that was still resting inside your heart, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. You tried to search for islands that will be suitable for you to start your career, narrowing some of them down into choices, but your eyes wil always lead back to where the Baratie was stationed.
You leaned back against your chair, letting your head hit the wall with a soft thud as you released a sigh of frustration. Not only will you need to prepare yourself for a journey all alone, but you also have to talk to Sanji sooner or later, whether you like it or not. The kiss distracted you more than the books Nami gave you. You think of it in the morning and dream of it at night, and it only got worse every time you remembered that he kissed you like he loved you.
Relaxing in your seat, you closed the book and listened to the silence.
The Going Merry docked for a quick trip to a market to gather fresh ingredients for food. Sanji will be gone for the meantime and you were free to roam around the ship without his heated stare boring holes in your skin.
But the peace was ruined by rushed footsteps and Usopp breaking into the room, almost destroying the door with his brute force. You frowned, standing up on alert when you saw how nervous he looked.
"Sanji's injured!" He exclaimed, which got your brow raising, knowing that he had a long history of lying to people. However, he forcibly pulled Sanji inside, and you were greeted by the sight of a bruised man, whose lips were bleeding and cheeks were starting to yellow.
You immediately sprang into action. You took the first aid kit you packed in your bag and grabbed his arm, making him sit down on your chair.
"How did you get into a fight in just a span of ten minutes?" You asked in irritation, wetting a cloth with saltwater to wipe off the blood on his lips.
Sanji grunted, tensing up when you took a hold of his face and dabbed on his lip using the cloth. "Some petty vendor was selling overpriced onions, and they weren't even the best of quality."
You stopped for a minute, glaring at him. "So you decided to punch them instead of talking it over?"
He only huffed in reply. Pursing your lips in annoyance, you continued to treat his wounds in silence, noticing him flinching and wincing in pain whenever you compress the bruised area with ice. "Who's being petty now?" You scolded impatiently, "Stay still."
The only sound that filled the room was you hastily rummaging your kit trying to find an ointment and an awkward silence that made you want to jump into the sea and never swim back to the surface. You unscrewed the lid of the jar of ointment and scooped some with your finger, looking at Sanji as you did so. He looked back at you quietly, and you tried hard not to think about the fact that you have to touch his lips in order for you to apply it.
It seemed like he realized that too, glancing down at the dollop of ointment on top of your finger, then back to you. You just gave him a small, uneasy smile, showing him that you weren't uncomfortable even though you were, and shyly took a step forward.
As gently as you could, you spread the ointment on the wounded area on his lips, reminding yourself to not be distracted on how soft they looked.
"A busted lip because of overpriced ingredients...it almost feels like you're doing this on purpose so I wouldn't get the chance to leave you." You half-heartedly joked to lighten up the atmosphere. However, you were greeted by nothing, not even a smart comeback or a funny joke from the blond. You hesitantly observed his reaction, and saw that he was grim and serious, guilt swimming in his beryl blue eyes.
The realization began to sink in.
Oh.
You should've known from the start. Sanji was a great fighter; he wouldn't be injured in the first place. "Sanji..."
Sanji took your wrist and held on it tightly. Your breath hitched, only then realizing how much you missed his touch, his warm, gentle, and loving touch.
"Let me go." You weakly said, even though deep down, you didn't want him to.
"Tell me you're not in love with me." He said, sounding utterly desperate that it almost made you fall down to your knees, "Tell me, and I'll let you go."
When you didn't answer, he stood up and cupped your cheeks with both of his hands. He pleaded, "Look at me. Look into my eyes and tell me you don't love me."
"Please don't do this." You whispered in pain as you tearfully shook your head.
"Stay. Please, stay." Sanji begged, pressing his forehead against yours, "What can I do to make you stay? Tell me. I'll do anything. Do I need to kneel? To beg for your forgiveness? Tell me what you want. I'll do anything in my power to make you the happiest woman in all of East Blue. Just please, don't leave."
"I can't." You answered, closing your eyes, a few tears streaming down your cheeks. You hate the way he was making this so hard for you.
He only continued, "Hate me, curse me, shout at me, if you must. Anything but you leaving me. Or do you want to make me yours? Then I am letting you. Whatever you want, mon ange—my heart, my soul, my attention, they're all yours. I'm all yours."
"No..."
"The crew will be incomplete without you." Sanji insisted in anguish.
"I have dreams, Sanji. Just like you and the rest of the crew." You explained softly, placing your own hands on top of his in attempt to comfort him and relieve him from his confusion.
However, he was persistent, "You can achieve your dreams without leaving. You can stay, and I will support you in everything you do. You're better off staying with me—with us."
You said firmly, "I will not spend the rest of my life doing what I don't want."
"Even with me by your side?"
A few second pass before you finally reply, "I'd be miserable."
Pain flashed on his face, making you want to take back your own words, yet you remained strong and unyielding. Sanji took a deep breath and stepped away from you, saying, "I'd rather have you miserable here than go out there and encounter ruthless pirates."
The statement quickly irritated you, frowning at him deeply. "You think I'll have problems with pirates when I've been serving them for years?"
"Oh, darling, you wouldn't be able to say that once you've encountered worse ones, with bounties higher than you could ever imagine." He snapped, voice raising with each word.
"I can manage on my own!" You bit back frustratingly, your tears evaporating into anger.
Sanji scowled at you, impatiently running his fingers through his hair. "You can't fight!" He shouted, voice breaking in the process, and with it, your heart too. It shattered like glass and the shards landed and pierced through your lungs, rendering you breathless. Your eyes widened, mouth dropping open in shock.
Seeing your expression, he immediately snapped back to reality, regret writing itself on his face. You shook your head in disbelief and let out a humorless laugh, "Are you telling me that I'm weak?"
"I didn't say that." Sanji quickly said in a hushed manner.
"But you're implying it!" You choked, still can't believe that he doesn't trust you. He doesn't trust you enough to accomplish your dreams on your own, and that he was not confident that you'll succeed without him by your side.
You wanted to ask him about the passionate kiss you two shared, about his loving gestures that confused the hell out of you, about his fresh bruises that he received on purpose so that he can get you to stay, and why he did all of that. You needed confirmation. But the question that left you was, "What am I to you?"
Sanji stayed quiet, and your heart broke again once more. Deciding that this was the last time he breaks it, you walked away and left him alone to tend to his own injuries.
He lit up a cigarette as he listened to your fading footsteps. A single teardrop fell down from his eye the moment he placed the cigarette between his lips, and all he could think about was that you hurt more than the bruises on his cheeks.
You packed your bags and spoke with Nami, telling her that you were ready, and that was the fifth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke—and tomorrow, you'll finally succeed.
⸻ • ⸻
The sun had just risen, and the early morning breeze smelled of the ocean, the calming sound of waves filling your ears. It was one of those days when the sky was clear and the sunlight wasn't harsh but pleasantly warm on your skin, making it the perfect day to start working on a new song and strum on your guitar for the melody.
But today was different. You were standing on the first step of the ship's staircase that leads to a docking station and a wooden walkway towards an unfamiliar island that was soon to be your new home. Your fingers clenched on the strap of your bag, finding this moment to be surreal. You have tried many times to leave, and here it was, right on the palms of your hands.
"So. This is it, huh?" Your trance broke as Nami commented beside you. She was the only one to bid you farewell and watch you leave, since the others were still asleep. You thought of Sanji and how he looked like when he was sleeping, staring at his handsome features so you can memorize them and implant it in your mind. He was your first love; you didn't want to forget him.
You smiled. "Thank you, Nami." You said earnestly, "I would've liked to spend more time with you. It's tiring to speak to men sometimes, don't you think?"
She laughed. "Yeah." Then, she caged you in her arms and hugged you tightly, surprising you for a second before you laughed too and returned the hug. "Stay safe out there."
"I will."
"So you planned to leave? Without saying goodbye?" A new voice interrupted, breaking the hug you and Nami both shared. You swiveled to look behind you, and there stood Sanji, appearing to have just woken up, with the strands of his blond hair sticking up in different directions. You observed his dejected expression, the downward tilt of the corners of his lips, and the glistening of his tired eyes. You stared at his crumpled suit and his crooked necktie. Despite how messy he looked, he will always be perfect to you.
You walked forward and looked at him fondly, with your eyes full of so much love reserved for him and him only. "Thought it would hurt less." You said, raising your hands to touch his hair and brush it down, "And I was right. How can I leave now when you're standing in front of me?"
He sighed shakily as he felt your soft fingers threading through his hair. "Then don't." He whispered. You only smiled at him. He didn't smile back, but that didn't stop you from taking both of his hands and caressing his knuckles using your thumb.
"Every night, I'll look at the moon and think of you. I'll tell my stories, sing my songs, and whisper my secrets to it. Just like what you and me would do when we were little." You told him softly and endearingly, "Would you be so kind as to look at the moon too and think of me?"
Sanji's eyebrows were scrunched together in agony, muttering, "I can't make you stay, can I?"
When you didn't answer, he just nodded his head, understanding what you wanted to stay. He forced a smile and tightly squeezed your hands. "I'm sorry."
"I'm yours." You answered, placing a soft kiss on the back of his hands. After letting your lips linger on his skin for a while, you slowly let go, and with one last glance at his face, you stepped back and made your way downstairs to the docking area, leaving before you could change your mind.
Sanji watched you go. While you walked away from the Going Merry, from the crew, and from him, not once did you look back. He just watched as you went farther away and became smaller in the distance, until you blended in with the crowd and you were just another person in a sea of people. And then you were gone.
It was the sixth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke, and this time, you finally did.
⸻ • ⸻
The red velvet curtains began to draw in front of you, gently falling back down on the stage as you said your final good-byes to your audience for tonight, a bouquet of roses cradled in your arms while you blew delicate kisses towards them. You can still hear their loud cheering and clapping even as you retreated to your personal room backstage.
A middle-aged woman greeted you inside when you stepped in the room and closed the door behind you, whistling. "There she is, our talented rising star!"
You only laughed at the silly nickname, setting the bouquet of roses that one of the people gave you in tonight's show on top of your vanity table. "You exaggerate, Madam. I have only performed two shows in your beautiful theater."
The madam, who was the owner of the theater you were currently working in, shook her head in disagreement. "And those two shows are sold out!" She informed you proudly, placing her hands on your shoulders, "Let me know if you want to add more, you are welcome to perform here anytime."
"I'll think about it." You replied, smiling. The madam patted your shoulder twice before she left you alone, humming happily to herself. You huffed in amusement, fully aware that she doesn't appreciate your talents at all, but only cared for the money.
Regardless of that, you were happy. It has been a couple of years since you left the Strawhat Pirates and pursued your dreams all on your own, and you've been traveling to different islands across the seas to perform. You never had a permanent home; being a musician meant going to many places from time to time to share and spread out your music.
Yet you can't help but miss life on the sea.
You missed washing dishes on the Baratie and the late night conversations you had with Zeff. You missed Luffy and his weird antics, Usopp and his jokes, Zoro and his blunt comments, and Nami and her kindness.
You missed Sanji and everything that he was.
You stared at your reflection in the vanity mirror on your desk. Your hair was pinned neatly, you had make-up on and you were dressed fancily for your performance. Years ago, you wouldn't look like this. It was hard to believe how much you've grown and changed, but these days, you felt like you wanted your old self back. Slowly, you took the itchy pins off your hair, and cleaned your face with warm water and a cloth. You replaced your dress in a more comfortable one and went outside.
Looking up at the night sky, you saw a bright full moon with no stars in sight. It was just the moon and its beauty, illuminating the pitch black sky with its glow. You silently watched it, a smile growing on your lips as you felt a tug on your heart.
"I wonder what you're up to, Sanji." You thought aloud, cheeks heating up at the memory of your first love and his golden hair and his contagious smiles. Then, to your surprise, a voice spoke unexpectedly.
"Well, I am fortuitous to have met such a beautiful angel."
You froze. No one referred to you as angel except for one.
Sanji.
As you turned around, he was already walking towards you. And there you both were, bathing under the moonlight, with him grinning at you mischievously and you looking at him lovingly. You didn't know how he found you, but what mattered was that he searched for you and now he was here, and he was still making your heart beat fast in your chest just like all those years ago.
How the pesky feelings stayed and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. But maybe it was because he was standing in front of you, and the way his next words made you run into his open arms and kiss him until you were both breathless,
"There you are, ange."
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